The Domestication of an Undercover Agent
Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: Miami or any of the characters.
Summary: He knew what he wanted and being just friends sure as hell wasn't it. [CaKe; Undercover Confessions tie-in.]
A/N: Hello all. This is my second CSI: Miami fic. I was prompted to write this after some reviews for my first fic expressed joy at seeing Jake's point of view so I hope everyone enjoys this.
I also want to thank everyone who reviewed the first part to this entitled: Undercover Confessions; this is dedicated to you guys for supporting my first CSI: Miami fic.
It was when his back cracked as he tried to climb through the window in the living room that Jake Berkeley decided he was old. He'd crawled through many a window in his day, most of them belonging to the owner of the house he was currently breaking into, for lack of a better term, and some not even on the first floor but this was the first time in all of his thirty five years that one had almost done him in.
Yes, he was definitely getting too old for this. And he was sure the art of window-climbing wasn't the only thing he was getting too old for.
As a teenager, being an undercover agent had been his dream. His mother blamed it on his father's love for James Bond movies while Calleigh blamed it on his need for adventure and restless soul. Whatever the reason, going under was a calling and it was one he hadn't been able to ignore for the life of him until recently.
Oh he'd wanted to give it up, especially after he'd almost been found out on his first assignment. Apparently screw ups were common for rookies and ATF had backup in place to pull him out should things have turned bad but the fear had been there and it had left its mark on him. Pulling out had also been a logical and serious line of thinking when it had cost him the love of his life way back when but he still hadn't been able to bring himself to go through with it.
He'd toughed it out for thirteen long years and, in that time he'd felt like he had been making a difference in the cold, cruel world he lived in. Recently, though, he'd begun to slow down. His assignments started coming fewer and far between, the risks involved at a considerably lower rate than that of his earlier cases.
As he wandered through the darkened house, the house he technically shouldn't even be in considering the hour and his lack of expressed owner permission, he thought about the reason for that. He'd gone soft, in a manner of speaking, for there was a time when he wouldn't have even entertained the thought of lessening his work load.
Work had been what kept him going, what kept him alive.
Throwing himself into his work had been a way to lessen the loneliness he'd felt after he'd lost her the first time. Working constantly had been enough to take his mind off of his personal life. During that period he hadn't even given himself time to ponder what to have for dinner let alone the loss he'd experienced.
He chuckled quietly as he maneuvered around wayward furniture, furniture that had most definitely been moved since his last visit. The second time around with her had been vastly different, from the way he'd handled the relationship itself to the breakup. He'd been more focused on her, even lowering himself to easing into homicide despite the fact that his blood yearned for undercover work and had only turned back to ATF full time after he'd sacrificed himself for her.
It had been a slap in the face to risk everything with the Crypt Kings only to find that she'd decided he wasn't worth the long absences his job demanded. He'd been more heartbroken than he'd wanted to let on, the pain a thousand times worse than the first time he'd lost her and, instead of drowning himself in work, he'd taken the time to step back and evaluate his life.
That had been the beginning of his professional downfall. He'd started working farther away where no one knew him and the chances of someone recognizing him were slim in an effort to forget her. When that hadn't worked, he'd reluctantly returned to Florida just to be closer to her. His assignments kept creeping toward Miami until, finally, he took the plunge in hopes of just catching a glimpse of her.
Finding his way back to her heart for a third time had proven to be even trickier than navigating her dark living room at three in the morning but he'd persevered and, well, beggars couldn't be choosers. His father had always told him that a woman worth loving forever was worth working for and damn it if he hadn't pulled overtime trying to worm his way back into her life and her heart. How he'd ever gotten her back from that salt of the earth CSI she'd been dating he'd never know but he counted himself lucky for this chance.
This last chance, because he wasn't screwing up again. Come hell or high water, he'd make an honest woman out of Calleigh Duquesne one day. She would be his because over the years he'd found he couldn't do without her; he didn't want to either, for that matter.
An audible sigh escaped him as he finally stumbled into the room he'd been avidly searching for for the past ten minutes and he could literally feel the anxiety and stress escape him in waves. He could barely see her, could scarcely make her out in the darkness but he could hear her soft, steady breathing and identify the smell of magnolias that permeated the air.
Her favorite lotion; had been since the police academy. For as long as he'd known her, she'd loved the smell and appearance of the large, waxen, white flowers of the south. The flowers had even been set to make an appearance at their wedding ceremony before...
Kicking off his boots and shaking his head to rid himself of that thought process, he crept closer. His breath caught for a moment when she shifted, afraid that she would wake and catch him unbidden in her house.
They'd been dancing around each other for months, ever since she and Delko broke up, trying to take things slow, to just be friends for a while but that was almost killing him. Sure he got to see her when he was in town, take her to dinner, occasionally come over and watch a movie but it wasn't enough. Not for him.
He knew what he wanted and being just friends sure as hell wasn't it.
Letting out the breath he'd been holding when she settled and stirred no further, he chanced another inch forward. After a moment of watching her, still paranoid that she might awaken and kick him out of her house, he laid down beside her still clad in his jeans and t-shirt. He didn't know what the morning would bring and the last thing he needed was to be thrown into the street at six o'clock in the morning without his clothes.
Hesitantly, he wrapped an arm around her and gently pulled her against him, relishing in being next to her and the sense of home she evoked in him. There had been a time when working undercover had been for him but not now. Now this was where he belonged; here with her.
He wanted to wake up beside her, see her face across the breakfast table, surprise her by sending her a turkey club from that little restaurant she loved about a mile from work, come home to her at night, snuggle with her on the couch and cuddle with her in bed. It had taken him long enough but he now knew what he wanted and he knew he wanted it for life.
Jake stiffened as she shifted unexpectedly and he warily spared a glance at her face just in time to see her eyes open, unnaturally bright in the darkness. Tightening his grip on her in an effort to pin her arms in case she decided to hit him for invading her sanctuary, he smiled down at her unsurely.
"Did you get the bad guy?" she wondered, voice hoarse from sleep; seemingly unsurprised at waking to find him there.
He laughed at the unexpected question and smoothed her hair away from her face as she yawned. "Yeah, I got the bad guy." Like she didn't get the bad guy every day herself.
Nodding tiredly, she leaned into him, burying her face in his neck. Assuming she'd drifted back off after a minute or so of even breathing and sporadic, slumber-like caresses against his throat, he was surprised when she suddenly lifted her head, looking a bit more conscious than before. "What's going on here?"
Sighing Jake prepared to explain his presence, all the while bracing himself for the violence that would surely ensue after he vocally confirmed that he'd technically committed a misdemeanor at the crack of dawn to climb into bed with her, but she cut him off with a flippant gesture toward his face.
"I mean what is this?" she asked again, reaching up and gently tugging on the beard that had begun to grow during his absence.
Laughing heartily as he caught onto her meaning, he pulled her closer. "I didn't have much time to shave while working the case." He paused to study the subtle changes in her expression at his explanation. "And it sorta fit in with the whole: masquerading as a druggie-thing. Can't be too clean shaven when you're supposed to be spending all your money on heroin, you know."
Calleigh thought on this newly revealed information for a moment before smoothing her hand over the foreign whiskers. "Well you're not undercover anymore so..."
"I'll shave it in the morning," he promised with a shake of his head. Leave it to her to be concerned with such trivial matters before daybreak.
Nodding, pure satisfaction gleaming in her eyes, she returned to hiding her face in his neck. He groaned when he felt her lips on him seconds later; she hadn't initiated a single kiss since they'd decided to try again and go slow.
This was a monumental moment for him that, coupled with his need for her and her resistance to his advances over the past six months, quickly had his blood boiling in all the right ways. Growling playfully, he pinned her to the mattress and nuzzled her neck, searching with insistent lips.
Calleigh giggled and weakly pushed him away. "Sleep first." And after a moment: "Shave first too."
Jake rolled his eyes and grumbled his disappointment when she turned away from him, apparently content to settle back in for a few more hours of slumber. She would start something with a sexually deprived man only to leave him hanging for however long she deemed fit.
Weighing his options, and the consequences he might face for potential methods of attempted persuasion, he came to a decision. While he was dead tired and sleep did sound pretty alluring, six months of being shot down combined with a month away from her entirely left him with zero self control.
Sure he could wait but to hell with that; he'd waited for her long enough.
And as he regained a dominant position over her, lips once again becoming familiar with the delicate skin of her neck, she uttered not one sound of protest.
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