Author's note: After reading some really lovely Linstead fanfiction on here, I thought I'd try my hand at it myself. I am totally new to any creative writing, so I am sort of testing the waters with this story. I intend to make this a series of oneshots to go along with the canon storyline (Assuming I don't totally suck and you don't tell me to stop). So this chapter starts with their first night together, because where better to start than at the beginning, right? Fair warning, I am not a native speaker, so there are bound to be some mistakes, although I did my best at proofreading and double checking. If you find any, let me know. Comments and constructive criticism are very much appreciated, thank you. So without much further ado, enjoy!

Moments and the spaces in between…

Chapter 1

It is shortly after 7 when Erin finally leaves the office making her way to her car. 'It is only your first day. It wasn't even really a bad day. Mendoza didn't get away. The rest might get better' she tells herself with little hope und less conviction.

Once inside the car, she takes deep breaths, trying to let the frustration and anger of the last few hours go. It doesn't really help. With every exhale she only feels more disappointment settle in; disappointment at how the task force handles their cases and their Cis (how they handle everything, really) and disappointment at how useless this makes her feel. If it wasn't for intelligence they probably wouldn't even have found Mendoza. Kylie might not have made it out alive (She still isn't getting any money). In the end it is her team – her former team, she corrects herself; she is no longer part of it – that makes the difference, not the DEA task force, which, as it turns out, is really more a bunch of pencil pushers and ladder climbers making themselves look good on paper. This isn't her and she doesn't want it to be, ever. So when Lang asks her to attend the press conference, she opts out. You never get your picture in the paper.

She is still sitting in her car in the parking lot with the engine turned off when it dawns on her that she may have made the wrong choice. The things she loves about being a cop and the things that make her who she is (she cares for people) are a footnote at best in her new job and it bothers her immensely. But she is also Erin Lindsey. She doesn't just accept it when something is unacceptable and she doesn't want to let the new job change the kind of cop she is. So with a determined look in her review mirror she starts the car and decides that maybe she needs to be on the task force, precisely because she cares when they don't.

She briefly considers heading to Molly's, because the team is probably there and she could really use a beer (or rather three plus some tequila), but ultimately decides against it. As much a she misses them, she doesn't really feel like talking about her fiasco of a new job to the people she used to work with.

Of course, that is not entirely true, a voice in her head (or is it her heart?) whispers. She could really use some venting to the person she still thinks of as her partner. She doesn't really know how to label their relationship now and she is not sure she even wants to. Now that he is less than her partner he is somehow more, because there is a possibility for them to be more, if she just lets them. She doesn't know if she can. What they could be terrifies her and she doesn't want to mess things up. He is her best friend, her "go to person" and she can't imagine him ever not being. But at the same time she wants that 'one day' with him so desperately that she might just not care about the rest.

By the time she is parked in front of her apartment building that little voice in her head is all but yelling at her to just go over to Jay's. And when she looks up to the windows of her empty apartment, it takes her a fraction of second to decide to turn the car around.

It doesn't even occur to her until she stands in front of his apartment door that she probably should have called ahead. He might not even be home. But he is and she hears him shuffling to the door moments after her soft knock. When he opens the door, he seems surprised to find her on the other side, but he smiles nonetheless.

She tells him "hey", and almost cringes at the way it comes out, nervous and slightly sad. He doesn't seem to notice and gives her a friendly "Hi" in return. He is dressed so casually in black sweatpants and a t-shirt that Erin suddenly feels a little insecure about disturbing him. But he tells her he is watching her press conference and asks her to come in. So she walks past him and stands behind the couch, watching the rest of the press conference unfold.

"So this is how you're spending your evening? You must really miss me!" She teases him, although on some level she hopes that he actually did watch the conference because of her.

He comes to stand next to her, hands in his pockets, and lets out a soft laugh,

"They didn't let you do any of the talking… No offense to Lang, but you're a little easier on the eyes."

He almost grins at her as he says it. His tone is lighthearted, but Erin is not really in the mood for their usual flirtatious banter, so she answers him seriously after barely repressing a sigh. That whole press thing isn't her scene, plus she still follows Voight's rule about not appearing in the paper, or in this case on TV.

He turns more serious as he watches Erin's somber expression. He asks her if she wants to talk about her day. His voice is soft and the look he gives her makes her feel like he already knows about all of it and understands. It really shouldn't come as a surprise to her (after all, they have always been attuned to each other), but the realization that he really does know her and cares for her somehow still amazes her. And it makes all the difference. She already feels so much better because of him. She doesn't want to talk about how crappy her day was, because, really, it doesn't matter that much anymore. She feels happy and cared for when she is with him… And right now that is all she wants.

She tells him she doesn't really want to talk. The implication of what she wants from him, but isn't saying hanging in the air between them. She can hear herself speaking the words. They come out almost as a question and make her sound vulnerable even to her own ears.

She inhales deeply in an attempt to calm the nervousness that is spreading through her veins as he turns to face her with an expression that she can't quite read. Gone are the traces of his usual easy smile when is with her, replaced by something akin to wonder, maybe tenderness. He keeps his eyes on hers as he steps towards her, almost asking her if she is serious, daring her to back out before it's too late. But she is and she doesn't. So she stands there unmoving, staring at him until he is only inches away from her.

He is still looking at her with the same tender expression and she gives him a soft smile, because this, him, is what she wants. The corners of his lips turn up in response to her smile as his right hand comes up to the side of her face, his thumb swiping across her cheekbone. She isn't sure whether she is still breathing properly or if there is even any oxygen left in the room. Then, with a slight tug he pulls her face towards his, his other hand going to her waist, and the remaining distance is gone.

His lips are soft against hers. It feels so right, but it also isn't enough for her. She craves more. So she pushes herself up on her toes and closer to him. Her hands gripping his shoulder as she tries to eliminate any space left between them. The kiss becomes hungry, almost desperate, as she pulls him towards herself while he pushes against her until her back hits the wall. Or is it the door? She really doesn't care.

He pulls his head slightly back to look at her (maybe to make sure she still wants this), but she doesn't want to be separated from him so she tries to follow until her lips can't reach his anymore. When she finally moves back down, her eyes never leave his face. He looks at her with those eyes again and it makes her thoughts even more incoherent, if possible. She feels lightheaded; the blood is rushing in her ears and her heart hammering in her chest. The loud breathing is probably hers, too. But before she can make sense of anything, his hand is holding her jaw and a small smile escapes her lips before they reconnect with his.

The kiss is deeper, but slower, their tongues exploring each other. He is pushing her jacket off her shoulders and she can't get rid of it fast enough as she clumsily wiggles out of it, all the while trying not to lose the contact of his lips. Her hands find their way under his shirt, roaming over his torso as his hands fumble with her blouse. She tugs at his shirt and he moves to lose it in one swift motion. The rest of their clothes follow soon until there is nothing left but the thin material of their underwear.

They separate only for a brief second (she needs the oxygen) and in her blissful haze she wonders why they haven't done this sooner. He is holding her so gently and kissing her so passionately it makes her entire body ache. Then his hands find her thighs and she feels him lifting her up. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she swears her skin is being scorched by his touch and it is burning her alive. A smile spreads on her face, because it's the best feeling in the world.

He carries her to the bed easily, her arms still around his neck. When he lowers her on top of the sheets, he hesitates for a moment and standing back up looks at her with a slightly goofy smile. She lets him and gazes back at him, because in that moment she feels so safe and warm and real… and he looks at her like she is the most beautiful woman in the world to him. Then, she pulls him back to the bed. Right now she wants to be as near to him as possible. And even when they are skin on skin with no barriers left, it is still not close enough. She buries her face in his neck as they become one, but he moves to look at her before finding her lips again. She is drowning in glorious ecstasy moments later and he follows soon after.

When it is over, she moves to lie next to him, her head on his chest, while he is drawing patterns on the bare skin of her back. "Wow…" is all she manages to say. She is still basking in the afterglow, her body tingling all over.

"Yeah, that was… wow." He responds with something between a laugh and a content sigh.

She tilts her head up to look at him and drops a kiss on his chest before settling back down.

"Yeah."

It doesn't take long for her to fall asleep after that.