Four Days, Wide Awake pt.1 (The Closer: Sharon/Will)
Title: Four Days, Wide Awake (1/4)
Rating: MA
Words: ~3600
Disclaimer: Characters property of their creators.
Will Pope watched Sharon Raydor pace the length of his office. Whatever was on her mind, she was struggling to get it out, and in his not-yet caffeinated state, Will didn't have the patience to let her work at her own speed.
Sharon Raydor was never the first person he wanted to see in the morning, given that her presence meant that either an officer-involved shooting had occurred the night before, or she had some complaint to lodge about Brenda Johnson or another of his staff.
"Captain Raydor," he barked. "I don't have all day."
Sharon stopped mid-stride in front of Will's desk. Though her feet had stilled, she continued to fidget, alternately adjusting her glasses, scratching her head, and worrying the single sheet of paper in her hands. She opened and closed her mouth several times, still hesitating to speak. Finally, she thrust the paper forward, then crossed her arms and turned to begin marching the span of the room again.
Will pulled his glasses to the end of his nose and skimmed the report before him.
Domestic abuse. One of her subordinates. No wonder she was upset.
He placed the paper down on his desk and looked up again to find Sharon stopped in front of him once more, wringing her hands and watching him intently. In her expression he read anger, frustration, and something else, something he'd never seen on Sharon Raydor's face before: supplication.
She was asking for his help.
"Captain Raydor," he said, softer this time, and gestured for her to take a seat. "You know what needs to happen here."
Sharon nodded. '"I know that an assault on an officer requires an investigation by Major Crimes."
Will nodded. "Chief Johnson will handle the case. Are you prepared for that?"
Sharon didn't answer, but crossed her arms again and looked away, petulant.
By now, Sharon and Brenda's feud was so well-known it had become locker room talk. On more than one occasion, upon entering the gym, or the cafeteria, or the bar the beat cops frequented across the street, Will had overheard jokes about the two women, jokes that always seemed to end with a punch line along the lines of "cougar fight" and be accompanied by hissing noises and lewd gestures.
Perhaps if Will only heard about their bickering secondhand, he'd find it a turn-on too. But as he was the one who had to step in to resolve their disputes, their rivalry was primarily an inconvenience to him.
"I'll bring Chief Johnson in here in an hour. You'll brief her then."
"Yes, sir." Sharon stood and smoothed her clothes. Will noticed the tremble in her hands as she clutched the hem of her jacket.
"Sharon."
She started at his use of her first name.
"We'll get this straightened out."
"Yes, sir," Sharon repeated. She stood up straight and strode out.
Will landed a final bout of blows on the punching bag before him, then stepped back, breathing hard. He checked the clock on the wall. 8:26 p.m. It had been a quick workout, but he felt much better for it.
As if he didn't have enough to handle in his regular course of duties, Raydor and Johnson had been at each other's throats all day, Brenda's team fueling the fire with their own comments and artistic activities.
Agitated by the irritating but predictable events of the day so far, Will had walked down to FID in the early afternoon to check on Sharon and remind her of her proper role in the Moore investigation. Set to lay into her about her confrontation with Brenda, Will barged straight into Sharon's office.
He stopped short at the sight in front of him.
Sharon was sitting in her chair, tissues in her hands, her eyes red and puffy. Her glasses lay on her desk next to an untouched salad.
Photographs of bruises-fingermarks and deep purple welts-were strewn out before her.
Sharon jumped at the intrusion and stood, holding her hands behind her back to hide the tissues from him. "Chief Pope, what can I do for you?"
Will's intent to deliver a stern reminder of her role in this case was suddenly tempered by empathy, and more than a glimmer of wonder at the gentler side of Sharon Raydor that was emerging before him today. That look was back on her face, the one he'd seen that morning when she'd handed him her statement. She looked at him expectantly, hopefully, and he realized she thought he was there to deliver news about the case.
She wasn't anticipating a reprimand and in that moment, Will decided not to give her one. Instead, he stated, "I understand that Chief Johnson's team was unable to turn up anything in their canvass of Moore's neighborhood. I'm sorry."
Sharon seemed to shrink in on herself at the information. She dropped into her chair and turned back toward the photographs, shaking her head. She sat there, raw and exposed before him.
Will felt a sudden urge to go to her, and under other circumstances he may have. But this was Captain Raydor, this was a case, and they both had work to do. He excused himself quickly and left.
Will removed his gloves and began slowly unwinding the tape from his hands. He drained the remaining contents of his water bottle, then headed out to the main area of the gym to refill it.
The gym was empty at this time of evening-Will always tried to get his workout in during the hour before a shift change, before the off-shift beat cops descended and turned the place into a cacaphony of clanking barbells and macho grunts. The only other people in the gym were a few officers doing a circuit and a lone woman running at the far end of the long row of treadmills.
Sharon Raydor.
Will had to do a double-take, unaccustomed as he was to seeing her in the gym. Sharon's hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wore a slim tank and half-split shorts. The cut of the shorts exposed almost the entire length of her leg, and Will found himself momentarily mesmerized by the way her quadriceps defined on each step.
She ran at a quick pace, her movements economic. On the few occasions Will had allowed himself to think about Sharon's body at length, he'd surmised she was a runner-the shape of her calves was a good indication. Now he was sure of it. Her skin glowed with a thin sheen of sweat, but she didn't appear to be laboring.
She hadn't spotted him and Will realized he could sneak into the locker rooms undetected if he wished. But Will had felt guilty all afternoon about the way he'd left her upset in her office. He could at least have the decency to check in on heronce, apart from the case.
Will refilled his water bottle at the fountain near the free weights and then made his way toward Sharon. She didn't notice him until he was nearly upon her, so lost was she in her thoughts or whatever she was piping into her ears via the earbuds she wore.
Will halted in front of her machine. Sharon watched him, but made no move to stop.
He peered over the front of the treadmill to look at her mileage. Shaking his head, he reached up and over the control panel to turn off the machine.
As the belt slowed beneath her, Sharon eased into a walk and finally met his gaze. "Can I help you, Chief?" she asked, pulling out her earbuds.
"That's enough. You should go home. You've had a long day."
"I'd like to finish my workout first."
Will could tell she was trying to sound unaffected, but he'd gotten better at reading her over the course of the day and he knew she was still uneasy.
"Eight miles in under an hour is plenty, Captain. Go home and rest. You've done all you can do for her today."
Sharon continued to walk. Will offered her his water bottle and after a moment's hesitation, she accepted. She took several small sips and then dumped some water into her hands to douse over her face and neck.
Will watched as several droplets of water trailed down her chest, finally disappearing beneath the low neckline of her tank. When his eyes met hers again, she was smirking slightly. Will cleared his throat and took his water bottle from her outstretched hand. Sharon stopped her treadmill and stepped off, and the two made their way toward the exit.
Outside their respective locker rooms, Will slowed. On a whim, fueled perhaps by guilt at his earlier coolness toward her, perhaps by lingering concern over her worried state, and perhaps, just a tiny bit, by the way those drops of water had run down her chest, Will blurted, "listen, Sharon, would you like to grab a drink, maybe something to eat?"
Sharon studied him for a long minute, her eyes narrowed and her head tilted. She seemed skeptical, like she was trying to deduce what nefarious intent he might have with the invitation.
Will tucked his boxing gloves under his arm and placed his other hand on his hip. "I just thought maybe you'd like some company tonight. If you don't, or if you have other plans..."
"No," she interrupted. "That's very kind of you. I'm just surprised. No one ever-" She stopped and shrugged, a slight flush now creeping across her cheeks. Will couldn't help but chuckle.
The tension eased for the moment, Sharon spoke again. "I don't know that I have the energy for a bar. I was planning to go home and order in some Thai. You'd be welcome to join me."
Will smiled. "I'd love to."
Sharon's apartment was open and light, and very neat. Will toed off his shoes inside the door when he saw Sharon do the same, then followed her back to her kitchen. "Twenty minutes," she informed him after placing their order. "Would you like a drink? I have a bottle of pinot grigio open."
"Terrific," Will answered.
She poured a glass for him, then one for herself, and gestured for him to follow her to her couch. Will sat, and Sharon took a seat next to him, tucking her bare feet up beneath her.
"You've been good to me today. Thank you for your help, Chie- Will.." she corrected tentatively.
"Will," he affirmed, nodding. "Nothing to thank me for. You did the right thing, reporting Detective Moore's injuries. I know it was difficult. And I know working with Brenda doesn't excite you but there was no way around that."
"It doesn't please her either, working with the Wicked Witch of the West," Sharon quipped.
Will frowned. "You saw that, huh?"
"I did. Commander Taylor was a bit too slow to cover it when I walked in this afternoon. Purposefully slow, I'm quite sure."
"You can't take that too seriously. They're just blowing off steam."
Sharon tossed her head, her jaw set. "I know how it works. And I'm used to it by now."
Will wanted to reassure her but he couldn't think of anything to say about the importance of FID's work that didn't sound trite.
Silence fell between them until Will deadpanned, "I think it was the Wicked Witch of the East anyway, the one the house fell on."
Sharon struggled to keep a straight face, but quickly collapsed into giggles. It felt good-she relaxed back into the couch, laughing fully now.
Will grinned broadly. He didn't think he'd ever heard Sharon Raydor laugh before. Smirk, at best. But her full-throated laughter was musical. He didn't want it to stop.
He tried not to stare as, still giggling, she set her glass on the low table in front of them and removed her blazer. The way she rolled her shoulders, the arch of her back as she shrugged out of the garment, the strain of her full breasts against the slim-fitting shirt she wore beneath... Will looked down into his glass quickly before she could catch him ogling her.
Just in time to save him from embarrassment, Sharon's phone rang and she buzzed in the delivery person. Will cut her off as she moved toward the door, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. "I've got this," he told her.
Sharon quickly set her small dining table, and Will was pleased to see as he carried the large paper bag over that she'd seated them both on the same corner of the square table, rather than across from each other. Will was ceasing to deny to himself that he wanted Sharon close.
The two sat and dug into their food, Will pretending to be unable to use chopsticks just to receive a lesson. The two laughed at his bumbling and then settled back into easy conversation, until Will remarked, "It's nice to hear you laugh tonight. I'd never seen you as upset as you were today about Moore."
Sharon stiffened, her chopsticks stilling in midair.
"I'm sorry, I don't know why I brought it up again," Will backpedaled, mentally kicking himself.
"No, don't be sorry. I just, we were talking and it was nice and I was distracted when I should be worried about her. I amworried about her, oh god." Sharon stood and began pacing, much as she'd done in his office that morning.
"Sharon, I said this already-you've done all you can do. She's an adult. You can't protect her."
"I know, I know," she said, but she wouldn't sit down again.
This morning they'd been in this same position. Sharon had been agitated and suffering, and all Will wanted was to get her out of his office as quickly as possible. But somehow, over the course of the day, Will had done a complete about-turn. Now he was desperate for a way to distract her, to comfort her.
He watched her for several moments in the continued hope that she'd settle down on her own. When it became clear she was only becoming more animated, he stood, marched over to her, caught her by the shoulders and kissed her squarely.
Sharon froze, and Will wondered for an instant if he'd made a wrong move. But then Sharon leaned into him, pressing her mouth against his.
Will pulled back and leaned his forehead to hers. "You need to calm down. Take a deep breath," he commanded.
She acquiesced and inhaled, then exhaled slowly. She closed her eyes.
"There. Is that better?" Will asked softly.
"It helps," Sharon answered, taking another deep breath.
Will released her shoulders and slid his hands around to her lower back, where he began to knead gently with the pads of his fingers. Bending his head down, mouth close to her ear, he murmured, "does that help?"
"It helps," she repeated, as her hands found their way to his chest and she rested her head against his shoulder.
Will took his time massaging his way up Sharon's back. His thumbs slid up her sides as he went and he delighted in the feel of her, the curve of her hips, the sharp tuck in at her waist, the ridges of her bottom ribs, the softness of the outermost sides of her breasts. She let him go where he wanted, neither pulling away nor trying to guide his touch, and he felt pleased at the trust she showed him.
His hands reached her shoulders and he slid them beneath her hair to her neck, where he rubbed gently before sliding his fingers up along her scalp, fistfuls of her thick hair filling his hands. At this touch, Sharon did respond-with a whimper and a turn of her head.
"Did I pull your hair? I'm sorry," Will said, concerned.
"No, no." He felt her smile into his neck. "It feels so good."
Will continued his motions, alternately sliding his fingers up the back of her scalp and then combing them out through the long strands, until her breathing had completely eased and she rested languidly against his chest.
He placed his thumbs along Sharon's jaw and tilted her head back to see her face. Her eyes were closed and her lips slightly parted-all the invitation Will needed to claim her mouth again. This time she opened to him and allowed him to caress her tongue with his. She sighed as he tilted her head back to devour her neck, his hand now braced on her lower back to support her.
Sharon's arms moved to circle his neck and his hands slipped to her waist, guiding her two steps backward to pin her back to the wall. Lifting her just slightly, Will slipped one thigh between hers and slid her down, the contact drawing a low moan from Sharon's throat. He drew her hips up again, encouraging her to rock against him, smiling against her mouth as he felt her take up the motion on her own.
Unable to resist even another minute, Will stroked upward from Sharon's waist to her chest, first ghosting his thumbs across her nipples, then palming her breasts fully. Sharon responded with a breathy "oh," and arched into his touch.
"Still good?" Will murmured into Sharon's neck.
"Yes," she breathed, her hands now roaming the expanse of his back.
"Couch, maybe?" he questioned with a suggestive roll of his hips into hers.
"No," she answered, shaking her head and pushing him away from her.
Will stood up straight and dropped his hands from her chest back to her waist. He raised an eyebrow in question.
"This way." Sharon took him by the hand and led him down the hall to her bedroom. Will stopped in the doorway and watched as Sharon closed her curtains and adjusted the small bedside lamp. She returned to stand in front of him.
"Are you sure?" Will asked her, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"You've been good to me today," she shrugged.
Will furrowed his brow, suddenly concerned. "I don't want a reward."
"You don't?"
"No, Sharon," Will scratched his head in frustration. He looked back to Sharon standing before him. Her lips were swollen and her cheeks flushed and he was dying to toss her onto the oh-so-inviting bed behind her, but first she needed to understand this.
"I don't want a reward for backing you up today. The idea disgusts me, actually." Sharon dropped her gaze at that but Will lifted her chin to force her to look at him again. "I want you."
"Me," she said slowly, comprehension dawning.
Will nodded. "You." He wiggled an eyebrow suggestively in the hopes of lightening the mood again. "The Wicked Witch of the East."
It worked. Sharon collapsed into laughter, clutching at her sides.
Will growled and tackled her back onto the bed.
They made short work of each other's clothes and then lay still, face to face on their sides. Sharon's leg was slung over Will's hip and he traced the underside of her thigh slowly with his fingertips. She leaned in to kiss him, then reached between them to take his length into her hand and guide it to her. She flexed her thigh around his waist, pulling him closer, easing him in.
She stilled, her breathing shallow.
Will kissed her and slid a hand down between them to stroke her clit gently with his thumb. Sharon hummed and clung to him, her arms around his neck. After a moment of Will's ministrations, he felt her ease to take him deeper. His hand returned to her thigh and he began to move them slowly, delighting at her soft moans and sighs.
She felt heavenly, tight and wet around him and the rest of her soft and pliant against his torso. He captured her mouth with his and they groaned into each other as Will began to thrust more forcefully.
It wasn't enough. He rolled Sharon onto her back and moved over her, drawing her other leg around his waist as well before resuming his motion. He drew columns of open mouthed kisses along her neck, feeling the vibrations of the hum in her throat. Sharon released Will's shoulders to grasp the headboard behind her, and Will covered her hands with his own.
"Faster," Sharon pleaded, drawing her legs higher around his torso in encouragement.
Will quickened his pace and changed his angle a bit and Sharon cried out long and low. He reached between them to urge her along and soon she was arching hard against the mattress, her fists white-knuckled in the sheets. Will followed her in release, her name on his lips.
As soon as awareness returned, Will rolled them back onto their sides and pulled Sharon close. Sleep claimed them both before either had the opportunity to second-guess what had just happened.
The insistent chirp of Will's phone roused him. Sharon woke as he tried to disentangle his legs from hers and watched him, heavy-lidded, as he searched through the clothing strewn over the floor.
He located his phone inside Sharon's pant leg. "Pope," he answered.
As the voice on the other end of the line spoke, Will met Sharon's gaze. She must have seen his concern because she sat up, pulling the throw blanket up to cover herself.
Will ended the call and pulled on his boxers before sitting down on the edge of the bed next to Sharon.
"It's Ally Moore."