Title: Before He Goes To Sleep.
Summary: He couldn't fall asleep, but that was nothing new.
Pairing: Grace/Boyd
Disclaimer: Don't own them, just borrow them from time to time and play with them.
..
Peter Boyd lay awake in the darkened room, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't fall asleep, but that was nothing new, especially with a complicated case going on. But tonight, it was not because of a case – in fact, they had solved it that afternoon. He smiled proudly in the dark. They were a good team, and even if he yelled at them a lot and never showed that he appreciated them, he was proud of them.
Spencer had wanted the team to go to the local pub to celebrate and Boyd had given in – he hadn't been difficult to persuade. They had enjoyed each other's company immensely, had joked and drunk their wine or beer.
The pub was crowded and noisy, but not to the extent that it was unbearable. The five colleagues were gathered around a table nursing each their drink and chatting amiably. Stella and Eve were already quite smashed and Spencer was alternating between flirting shamelessly with Stella and ogling the other women in the pub.
Boyd grinned to himself in the dark bedroom, remembering the reproachful look Stella had given the young man when he turned his head to look after a particularly well-endowed under-grad that had just walked by.
Stella finally seemed to have decided to simply respond to Spence's incessant ogling of other women by going up to the bar to get another round of drinks and flirting with a tall, handsome bloke, who then helped her carry the drinks back to the table.
Eve was people-watching in the corner, dividing her attention between Stella and Spencer's little fight for power and Grace and Boyd.
The older members of the team were quietly talking; commenting on Spence's choice in women ("Spencer's type is young, gorgeous and wears small skirts and tight tops," Boyd grumbled). They were each drinking their fifth glass of wine and Boyd could feel it getting to his head. It was embarrassing, but Grace could drink him under the table any day.
Grace said something that he couldn't distinguish from the din.
"What?" he asked, leaning closer. Grace leaned towards him, bringing her mouth close to his ear. He could smell her perfume and the shampoo from her hair and the scent combined with the wine he had drunk made him almost dizzy. He inhaled softly, subtly, ever the masochist.
"I said, I'm getting too old for this!" Grace repeated softly, close enough for him to hear it.
"You're not old, Grace," he replied courteously. She pulled away slightly, but remained close. Her eyes glittered, reflecting the flame from the candle on the table. She smiled.
"Thank you."
Boyd knew that Grace felt old, though, and he certainly understood that. There were days when he felt ancient, too, and Grace was five years older than him. It was odd, he thought. He never gave it a second thought that Grace was older than him. She was more mature, for certain, but then, Grace swore that she had met toddlers who were more mature than him. He had never thought he'd feel attracted to a woman who was older than himself. He was more the type of man, who'd fall for younger women. But there was something about Grace…
The evening wore on and Boyd and Grace both felt it. They were sitting closer together now, as Stella's conquest, who was, surprisingly, quite a nice bloke, had joined them at the table. Boyd draped his arm over the back of the bench seat, absent-mindedly tracing circles on Grace's arm. She stiffened for a moment, then relaxed, sighing almost inaudibly. He moved his fingers up to caress her neck and she shivered under his touch. Her neck was soft and he played with the hair at her neck for a few moments.
"Am I making you uncomfortable?" he asked, quietly. He could see her swallow something before shaking her head. He couldn't help but feel some satisfaction when he noticed that she seemed to have difficulties breathing normally. Her eyes fluttered shut.
Boyd knew that he shouldn't be doing this and that he was only doing it because he had had a bit too much to drink. If he had been sober, he would have stopped himself. Now, he didn't seem to be able to.
He hit a tender spot on Grace's neck and she jerked, goose bumps protruding on her arms. She leaned back her head, stretching her throat, and reached up to rub the spot he had tickled and Boyd found the movement incredibly sexy. Lowering her hand, Grace looked at him, her jaw dropping slightly at his intense gaze. For a few moments, they looked at each other.
God, how I want her, Boyd thought vaguely, his hand finding hers, fingers interlacing naturally in his lap.
Spencer interrupted the moment by announcing that he and Eve were going clubbing and asking if the rest wanted to join them. Stella declined, saying she'd rather stay at the pub for a while. Boyd and Grace both declined, too, claiming exhaustion.
Boyd helped Grace into her coat, surprised at how little the room seemed to be swaying. He then realised that he hadn't actually drunk anything for the last thirty minutes.
The cool air outside sobered him up even further, but he called a cab, knowing he was in no condition to drive. When the taxi arrived, he held open the door to let Grace enter first, then slid in next to her, informing the driver of Grace's address. Grace leaned her head against the headrest and closed her eyes. His arm was brushing against hers and his thigh was touching her thigh. She reached out for his hand and interlaced her fingers with his, placing their joined hands in her lap. He smiled at that, squeezing her hand lightly.
The ride was a quiet one. Finally, the taxi pulled up in front of her house. Boyd got out of the taxi and helped Grace out, too, asking the driver to wait a moment. He led her up the stairs to the front door and she dug into her purse, looking for her key. Finally finding it, she unlocked the door. But she didn't open it. Instead, she turned around and put her hands on Boyd's chest. His breath almost hitched as he rested his hands around her waist, pulling her closer. Her hands went higher, her fingers caressing his neck as his had hers earlier.
"Peter," she whispered softly. His hands let go of her waist and cupped her face instead, caressing her cheeks, tugging her hair behind her ears. His thumb outlined her lips slowly, sexily, before he lowered his lips to hers and caught them in a searing kiss. Grace moaned throatily, her hands snaking behind his neck, pulling him impossibly closer. His lips left hers and he gazed down at the small woman in his arms. Her eyes were darker, he noted with a satisfied smile, before catching her lips in another kiss. He deepened the kiss, revelling in feeling her tongue dance against his in a passionate kiss, before he finally pushed away.
"I need to go," he said, his arousal straining his voice. "Goodnight, Grace."
"Goodnight, Peter," she whispered, pulling him closer again and pressing her lips to his. He gave in and put his arms around her waist again, kissing her passionately, tasting the wine on her lips, one hand wandering up her torso, cupping her breast. She moaned and raked her fingers through his hair.
No, it was not because of a case he couldn't sleep tonight. It was because of the woman next to him. She snuggled closer to him in her sleep and he tightened his grip on her. He smiled in the dark. He loved her. He knew that for sure now. And she loved him. Grace Foley, forensic psychologist, shrink and his dearest friend loved him. He didn't fool himself; a relationship between them would be difficult. But she was willing to fight for it. And so was he. Perhaps it would work. He hoped so.
Before he closed his eyes to go to sleep, he decided that he would do everything he could to make Grace happy.
..
Author's Note: My first WtD fic, so please be nice.