A/N: So I wrote this short oneshot while on vacation. It's inspired by the song Delicate by Damien Rice. It works the best if you listen to the song while reading the fic but either way I hope you enjoy! Right now it's a oneshot but I am currently being persuaded to add another chapter. We will see.
It's not that we're scared, it's just that it's delicate.-Damien Rice
"Hey." He said softly, walking into her office. It was late, as usual and she was working, as usual.
He mostly dragged her out of the office to eat or to make her sleep but tonight was different.
Tonight he knew she needed to be here, needed to push the horrors of their most recent case away. Fill her mind with facts and logic so she didn't see the four brutally murdered children who had lain on the tables in front of her.
And while she needed her science, he needed her. He had long acknowledged the growing attraction between them but he had meant it when he said he couldn't cross the line.
He couldn't lose her. It was as simple as that.
But as he watched her type furiously at what was probably the latest chapter of her book, he had a desire to pull her to his arms. So they could fix each other.
She nodded in response and continued working, the steady taping of the keyboard echoing off the walls.
He wasn't going to let her go that easily.
He had no words to say, nothing that could erase the vision of those children that he knew permeated both their minds.
So he reached out and gently touched her shoulder.
Immediately she stopped typing and closed her eyes.
He slowly spread his fingers and moved them up her shoulder blade. His hand moved over her silken blouse to the base of her neck.
And then it was skin on skin and they both let out a breath they didn't know they were holding. He curled a tendril of hair around his finger and moved it gently away from her face.
He moved closer to her, breathing in her scent and he felt dizzy. His desire and love for this woman was clouding his thoughts, leaving him unable to remove his hand from hers.
As he traced her jaw line with his hand, he knew that this was wrong but he needed to touch her so badly, to maintain that connection that they shared. They knew each other like no one else did or ever would.
She arched into his palm as he traced the soft skin of her eyelids, down the bridge of her nose and then finally her lips.
She turned her head towards him as he caressed her cheek and then he was kneeling, his face inches from hers as her eyelids fluttered softly.
This he definitely couldn't do. Not when they were both emotionally vulnerable. It would be called a mistake and it would be one that would ruin them.
He moved his hand off her cheek and swung it down by his side but she caught it at the last second and intertwined her fingers with his.
And then, for the first time since he began touching her, she opened her eyes. They were glassy and full of unshed tears.
His heart pounded as she lifted her other hand and began to softly trace his features as he did to her.
As her hand traced his lips he felt her moving closer and then her lips touched his, ever so softly.
Pulling away, she rested her forehead against his and they stayed in that position for a long time, both content to continue the connection that made them both feel whole again.