A/N: Thank you for all the lovely reviews! I'm so glad to hear you're enjoying these, cause there are a LOT more that I'm going to post.
This one though, is fresh and new. I worked super hard on it, and I would love to hear your thoughts!
xoxo
She walks through the door that day, with Jay walking behind her holding a bag of his things. Her mind carries weight, the worry lines on her face standing out. Her hands are shaking, ever so slightly, but she hates that she can't stop them from trembling.
He's warned her, in the car, that he would understand if this was something she wasn't comfortable doing. It is potentially putting her life in danger too. She doesn't know what answer he expected, but she just shrugged, and shook her head. Her partner needs backup, and that is exactly what he will get.
"Nadia has the second room, so I guess that leaves the couch," she starts, when he puts down his bag.
"The couch is fine," he assures. "As long as it doesn't try to kill me in my sleep."
She rolls her eyes at him. She knows he's trying to make light of the situation, but it isn't light. Anything but. Erin tries desperately to shake the dread creeping in her bones. The dread you feel when the people you love are in danger.
"You know where everything is. Just make yourself at home," she says, when coming back with a stack of linen. He's been there many times before, even stayed over once or twice, when their minds were too heavy to count the beers after a case.
"Towels are in the bathroom, under the sink," she adds, in case he forgot from the last time he slept over and took a shower in the morning.
"Thank you." Their eyes meet, and she knows he's not only thanking her for the towels.
"You would've done the same thing if it were me."
He nods, shuddering at the thought of Erin in that kind of danger. But it's not unthinkable. The perils of their job are just something they both have to accept. He doesn't know how he falls asleep that night, with all the heavy thoughts weighing on him, but he wakes up the next morning, feeling rested and a notch calmer than the night before.
"Okay," Nadia starts in a hushed voice next to her. "I know you say you're not into him, but he looks so damn good in the kitchen." The young brunette looks back to the man standing in front of the kitchen counter, while they're sitting at the dining table, finishing the last bits of the breakfast Jay insisted on fixing them.
"Stop it!" Erin almost chokes on a bite of waffle.
"Also, these waffles−I'd sleep with him just to get the recipe." Erin rolls her eyes, cursing her skip for the tell-tale blush spreading across her cheeks. Because the waffles are that good, and that wouldn't be much of a sacrifice, she thinks, eyeing him carefully.
"You can say whatever you want, but you've thought about it."
She's just about to possibly murder Nadia with her own bare hands, when Jay jumps in, and asks is the food is okay. Nadia turns around and gives him her most pleasant smile.
"Delicious, thank you! Stay as long as you want," she adds, as if the place were hers to decide. He chuckles, and they continue with an easy banter.
It's just the first in the row of mornings she'll have to put up with this, but at least the excellent coffee is making it worthwhile. Or, who is she kidding, it's her gorgeous partner, who looks like he belongs in her kitchen, with the kitchen towel casually thrown over his shoulder.
As Nadia excuses herself to getting dressed, he chuckles, which makes Erin turn her attention back to him.
"So, have you? Thought about it?"
She almost spits out coffee at the thought of him hearing their entire conversation, while he chuckles deviously. Damn Nadia. She murmurs an apology, and makes her exit to the bathroom, where she proceeds to throw cold water in her face until she no longer looks like a rotten tomato.
Because she has thought about it.
He's getting more and more frustrated when no new leads pop up. Everything seems to be calm, and except for a minor scare, there has been nothing indicating somebody is trying to kill him. He's not happy about it, because he keeps wondering when it will happen.
But living with Erin has been nothing but great. The three of them have fallen into a comfortable routine, and he will be almost sorry to leave. He'll be glad to have his bed back though. This couch, though comfortable, cannot compete with his anatomic mattress.
His longing for his bed is interrupted by the sound of somebody entering the apartment. He tenses, until he hears the familiar footsteps. It's funny how he can so easily identify her solely on the way her footsteps sound.
"You're home early," he comments, when she walks in, and lock up behind her. She has insisted on adding another lock on the door, after he started crashing with them. He didn't insult her by protesting. He knows both of them sleep with their gun under the pillow.
He wasn't expecting her so early, since she told him she was meeting Kelly. He doesn't know what exactly is going on between them, and he was surprised she had a date, since he hasn't heard his name come up in quite a while.
"He's not in a good place right now," is the only explanation she offers.
"Meaning what? You broke up?"
She nods, a mixture of relief and sadness on her face. His heart makes a quick jump at the thought of her being single, but he maintains a neutral expression. She joins him on the couch, two beers in her hands, and passes him one.
"Want to talk about it?"
She shakes her head. "Not really."
"Well, then here is to the single life."
"What about the waitress?"
"I can't take that kind of chance." It's already bad enough that he has to put Erin in danger, and he knows she can defend herself just fine. She's had his bag countless times. It's even worse that even Nadia is in danger, since she's living with her, but to put a completely clueless civilian in that kind of danger is challenging fate in his opinion.
"Besides, it was more casual to begin with," he adds. "Just having some fun, you know?"
She nods and clinks her bottle against his. The hint of a smile on her lips would be insulting, if his face didn't reflect hers. For a second he feels that one day, may not be that far away.
Living with a man has certain advantages. Things get fixed. Things Erin didn't even know were broken, all of the sudden start working again. She knows it's Jay's way of thanking them for letting him stay, but she honestly doesn't mind having him around.
It's been a while since she's lived with a man. Her relationships never got serious enough for her to move in with anyone, so the last male housemates she had were Justin and Hank. But Jay, she sees Jay in a slightly different way.
She would be lying to say she never looks. It's not like he parades around them naked, but every once in a while, she catches a glimpse of him with no shirt on, and she would have to be blind not to notice the muscles he's hiding underneath his clothes.
Nadia even teases him about it, in her carefree fashion, making him laugh that wonderful laugh of his, while Erin pretends to roll her eyes, but secretly agrees.
"I'm gonna catch the bus," Nadia calls out, hurrying out the door, barely stopping to grab a piece of toast. She has to stop at the library before work, and even though Erin offered to drive her, she said she didn't mind taking the bus.
The apartment falls into silence when she's out, and Erin breathes in. She forgot what it's like to be so young and full of energy. Sometimes it's exhausting, but she loves seeing the brunette so full of life, and so enthusiastic about the possibility of becoming a cop.
She finishes breakfast, glancing over to the sleeping Jay on the couch. It gives her the opportunity to observe his sleeping form. Her lips spread into a warm smile. He truly is one good looking specimen of a man. His mouth is slightly parted, and she feels an insane urge of reaching out to stroke his hair. An urge she fights with all she has.
Erin knows he hadn't had a good night's sleep, because she heard him calling out. It breaks her heart that she's not able to do anything about it, so she lets him sleep until the last possible minute. He has never slept longer than either of them, so she's never had to wake him up before.
She tries calling out his name, but he doesn't respond, so she approaches. Extending her arm, she touches his shoulder. His eyes snap open, and the next second he's pushing her away with so much force it knocks her off her feet.
"Oh my god, Erin…" His eyes fill with remorse when he realizes what he's done. She shakes her head, getting off the floor.
"I'm good. Just an accident. I should've…" the sentence hangs in the air, because she doesn't know what she should've done to avoid this situation. Because he hasn't told her. "It's not your fault. I should've been more careful."
He nods, though he obviously disagrees with her. "I'm really sorry."
"I get knocked on my ass every day at work. This is nothing," she assures, and means it too. She approaches him again, resting her hand on his shoulder. He buries his head into his hands, obviously feeling terrible.
They're going to be late, but she takes the time and sits with him there for a couple of minutes, while his breathing slows down, and he's able to shake the terrors from his dreams. And all the while they sit there, her heart breaks, because she finally understands why he is always the first one up.
Erin likes her morning showers. She doesn't always get the time to take one, but when she gets up in time, she enjoys the way in which the water wakes her up better than any coffee ever does. So she's feeling quite cheerful, humming her favourite song, as she makes her way into the bathroom, and freezes in place.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't−." Her words stop in her throat, when her eyes reach the end of the towel he has wrapped around his waist. There are still drops of water on his shoulders, the few he's missed with the towel. He's holding a razor, and judging by the white foam spread on his face, she's caught him in the middle of shaving. Her mouth dries up when thinking what she would've seen if she stepped into the bathroom a few minutes earlier.
He laughs at her reaction. "Don't sweat it. I should've probably locked the door, but I don't really do it at home. Habits." He shrugs.
She's about to say something, when she finds her words again, but is saved by the arrival of Nadia.
"Are we having a family meeting in here? And you didn't invite me?" She chuckles at them. "Kind of steamy in here. Maybe you should hurry things along, or we're going to be late."
Despite needing that shower even more after the bathroom encounter, Erin skips it and allows Jay to finish shaving. After that, he never leaves the door unlocked again, and she always knocks. But the memory of water drops falling down his body can never be erased from her mind, and permanently ruins her life every day since.
Four hours of sleep is not enough. Which is why Erin nods off at the table, while waiting for her morning coffee.
"She does this all the time," Nadia explains to Jay. "She just doesn't function until coffee. She's really not a morning person."
"Believe it or not, I've kind of noticed," he jokes, hurrying the coffee along, so maybe they can wake up the sleeping beauty at the table.
She's oddly adorable like that, with a sleepy smile on her face.
"Apparently, she's having a good dream," he starts, when she lets out a weird sound.
"Did she just?"
She's standing in the kitchen, making coffee. She feels light and comfortable, and all she's wearing is a large t-shirt. A t-shirt that smells so good. She feels strong arms wrap around her waist from the behind and leans into the touch.
Jay turns her around. His mouth dips into hers, as he takes all the time in the world to explore her mouth. His hands settle on her hips, pulling the only piece of clothing over her head. The fresh air on her bare skin gives her goose bumps, and she can feel the familiar tension in her lower abdomen. He pushes her back, softly, yet firmly, until her back hits the kitchen counter.
He lifts her up on the surface, causing her to let out a loud moan, as his mouth feasts on her body. She sighs, his name a whisper on her lips.
Erin wakes up with a start, instantly missing his hands, his mouth… She blushes slightly, remembering the vivid dream. Then faces the two laughing idiots. She scowls at them, demanding coffee. They shut up pretty soon after that. Funny or not, she still owns a gun (which she also knows how to use, better than Jay let's be honest), and he knows from experience, she can throw a mean punch. He doesn't want to be on the other side of her rage.
It isn't until Jay goes to take a shower, that Nadia comes to tease her about it.
"Don't worry, I don't think he heard that you said his name. It was really more of a whisper, and the coffee maker was making some noise. But that moan, on the other hand…"
Her words are interrupted by a piece of fruit, flung at her by a very frustrated Erin.
She makes it a point not to fall asleep at the table anymore after that, so that if she does say his name in her sleep, it's in the privacy of her bedroom, and hopefully not loud enough for him to hear her.
They do his best to include him, but he likes to hang back and let them be together. Sometimes he feels like he's invading their space. On the other side, he thinks, while watching them cook, he couldn't be prouder of his partner for saving this girl. Maybe she doesn't even see it−the change in Nadia since she's moved in with Erin, but everyone at the precinct sees it. Jay the most of all.
He can't even believe that the smiling, healthy, beautiful girl making a mess out of flour, is the same girl they arrested a couple of months back. And his eyes fill with so much love, because this moment suddenly feels so precious, and he feels privileged to be here with them.
It slips out one time, when they're sitting next to each other on the couch watching an old movie.
"I've gotta say, you've been almost too gentlemanly about all this," she murmurs, eyeing him carefully.
He laughs. "I can't exactly make a pass, and risk you kicking me out."
"Just saying. You haven't even tried to play Scrabble with me once. I'm a little offended," she teases.
"Don't mistake my iron self-control for lack of wanting," he says. She expects him to smile, but he stays serious, and the dark in his eyes tells her he's not joking. Not even a little bit.
She feels the familiar pain between her legs, the one that tells her exactly how long has it been since the last time she had sex, and that maybe it was too long ago. Her mouth dries, like it always does when she's close to him.
She excuses herself to go shower, and makes it a damn cold one. And yet not even that cools her off completely. She still dreams of him, waking up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat.
Desperate, she slips her hand under her underwear, wishing more than ever that she didn't have to be so god damn professional.
Her mouth is dry. Her hands are still shaking, and the echo of the gunshot is permanently captured in her ear. It's not the first time she's shot her gun, far from it. And it's not the first time she's killed either. There is nothing in this scenario that hasn't happened before. But she still has a hard time letting it go.
There is something so definite in the way he's holding his bag−the bag he brought over that first night when he asked her if he could stay. She feels like years have gone since then, not days.
"Thought you'd be happy to get me out of your hair," he jokes, forcing a chuckle.
She looks at him, not even trying to hide all the emotions swirling beneath the surface. His smile dies.
"Where is Nadia? I wanted to say goodbye."
"She's cramming for some exam at the library. She says she can't study here." Her response is automatic, almost robot-like. Her face is the exact opposite of how she feels−calm. Void of the emotions that are bubbling somewhere inside of her, waiting for her to let them out.
Her skin is on fire, and yet she feels cold. Colder than she's ever felt before. Colder than the time Bunny left, and there was no one to pay the bills, so she was stuck at their place in the Chicago winter, with no heating.
Just so cold.
"Thank you," he murmurs. There aren't enough words to thank her for what she did for him, but he tries anyway. "Erin?"
It all comes at once. The terrifying dread she felt when the guy had Jay at gunpoint. The horrifying moment when two guns went off at once, and for a few seconds, she had no idea which gun, if either, had hit its target.
The hell she went through when she saw her partner on the floor, along with the shooter. The time it took her to tear open his vest to make sure the bullet didn't pierce it, was probably the longest few seconds of her life. And then he opened his eyes, and he was just so beautifully alive, she could only pull him into her arms, holding on for dear life.
She hears his bag hit the floor with a loud thud. "Erin−."
"Don't go," she begs. Her voice finally breaks. The suppressed sobs find their way up to the surface. She doesn't even realize that the tears are already falling; that her face is wet and her throat is burning. Because the way in which he says her name means everything.
She sees him nod through the blurriness, and then he's holding her, and his lips are on hers, kissing her softly, and his gentle fingers are holding her face, his thumbs wiping the saltiness away.
"I'm here," he whispers into her hair, as she clings to him desperately. Her fingers clutch his shirt. To keep him close. To never let him go. "I'm not going anywhere."
She has no idea how long they stand there. It might be a minute, or a day, or a lifetime. She just knows that after the tears subside, he guides her to the couch, and lets her curl up next to him (well more like on top of him).
She just knows that until he's there, next to her, everything is okay.
When her eyes flutter open later, she feels disoriented at first. Until she hears the steady rhythm of his heart under her. Then her lips turn into a smile.
Carefully, she lifts her head up. He's sleeping too, and that's the second time in days that she can observe him. Only this time she is closer than ever before.
She reaches out with a tentative hand, and strokes his hair, just like she wanted to that morning. He doesn't jerk awake like he did, but instead opens his eyes slowly. He holds her gaze, and she allows herself to get lost in it.
The buttons on his Henley are undone, and she lowers her eyes, tracing the tiny little bruise with her fingers. The silent reminder that not even vests offer complete protection. Too close to the heart.
Too close.
"Thank you for staying. It was just… too close of a call," she explains, struggling for words, and he nods.
"You don't need to explain."
It doesn't matter who leans in first when their lips finally meet after years of waiting. It's everything they ever hoped for. If that first kiss was meant to reassure and comfort, this one is purely selfish.
They surrender to each other, pouring all of the love, they have spent so much time denying, into each other. Their lips don't part, not even when he pulls her onto his lap, or when she straddles him. Their kisses burn the skin, and linger long after they pull back for air.
He slides his hands under her sweater, craving the touch of warm skin under his fingertips. He loves the way she arches against him, shuddering in his arms. She allows him to pull it over her head.
She needs him. She needs him to make her forget how he almost died in front of her today. But it's not just that. Somewhere deep inside she knows this is where she belongs. It's like her skin was made for his touch, and her lips were made to fit perfectly against his. It's like he already knows her, finding all the spots that bring her pleasure.
His hands leave her body long enough for her to pull his Henley (let's be honest, she loves him in that Henley, but even more without) over his head. It lands somewhere on the floor, and she dives in to explore the newly discovered territory.
Her hands trace hard lean muscles, making his tense under her touch. Her lips trace kisses down his neckline, paying special attention to the constellation of freckles on his skin. Each one just waiting to be kissed.
He smiles when he realizes what she's doing.
His hand supports her back as he shifts them, and dips her into the softness of the couch. The bed is still made as he left it this morning, when everything seemed so innocent and calm.
He hovers on top of her, smiling again, and if she had lasted that long, this is the moment the butterflies in her stomach take flight. And she knows she will never get enough of him. She will always crave more.
They get rid of the rest of their clothes between endless, unrushed kisses, before the need for more quickens their pace. Then he lowers himself over her again, enjoying in the feel of her body beneath his. The scent of her skin−a whisper of flowers, a hint of rain−is intoxicating, and it's easy to get lost of the sensations.
As she lets out a soft frustrated moan, he knows it has to be now. His legs wrap around him, as he enters her with one powerful thrust.
They move together in perfect sync, and she looks up at him. Her eyes shine vulnerable, wild. Reflecting everything he feels.
"Please, please, Jay−"
Then suddenly she is there. She is flying. Her orgasm washes over her, pulling her under. The force with which she shakes in his arms, pulls him down under with her. His hands grip her hips with a bruising force, as he buries himself inside her for the last time, before collapsing on top of her.
They're cuddled together on the couch. Jay has thrown a blanket over them, but she's not cold. Her skin is still warm, rosy and still tingling. He pulls her closer, allowing her head to rest on top of his chest. She hums with content.
"I can't believe I'm going to say this, but that was even better than I expected," she murmurs, and feels his chest shake as he chuckles.
"I don't think anyone could have predicted that." Because nobody has ever made him feel like that before. And he has a feeling nobody ever will again. He doesn't want anybody to.
She finds the bruise on his chest again, the one she was tracing earlier. The one that finally pushed them over the edge and brought them together. She could have lost him today. The bullet could have pierced the vest. The shooter could have gone for the head, like she did.
She never would have been able to tell him how he changed her life for the better.
"I love you." She doesn't want to hold onto the words anymore. Not when life is so short and so uncertain. Not when just a couple of hours ago she almost lost him. "I think I've loved you for a while now."
"I love you too."
And just like that, her world is whole again.