A/N:This is an old fic from last year's Valentine's Day, but I thought today was a perfect occasion to post it on here too, for anyone who hasn't read it yet.
A/N2: Can Jay be my boyfriend đ
Erin forgets.
It slips her mind, and she forgets it's the 14th, despite the fact that this is the first time she is actually in love on this very cheesy holiday. Truth be told, she even forgets it's February. They are deep into a kidnapping case, and the unit spends most of the time in the bullpen, trying to find the two missing girls. The dread of a cold case is beginning to creep in. No new leads have turned up for days. Weeks even. Everyone is having a hard time accepting that some criminals get away.
Still, they are not ready to give up yet. The bullpen has turned into a sort of a living room, with empty pizza boxes and other takeout containers. It's always different with kidnapping cases, because they're fighting an invisible clock. It's like an hourglass, only the upper part is dimmed, and they don't know how much time they have left. If any.
It's Platt, who takes pity on them, and keeps carrying the boxes away, and at some point, she opens the windows, letting in some fresh air. The coffee maker burns out, and that's the final straw that makes Hank send them home for the night, telling them to get a good night's sleep and come back in the morning. Not before nine.
She doesn't even get suspicious because of the abundance of red roses and hearts everywhere.
But he doesn't forget.
They get home together, both more than beat from the non-stop work. Her shoulders are slumped, as if they carry the weight of the world, and she doesn't even resemble a human being anymore. She certainly doesn't feel like one.
So when her eyes widen at the sight of her bathroom, it's from the astonishment. Jay has been in there for almost half an hour. Erin was convinced he was taking a shower. How wrong she was.
She has never been one for the cheesy holidaysâshe doesn't even particularly enjoy celebrating her birthdayâbut the sight of a bubble bath, and a full gift bag of her favourite pampering products next to it, makes her want to weep with joy. Her eyes are dangerously close to filling with tears.
"Happy Valentine's Day," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around her from the back. He presses a quick kiss on her cheek. Meanwhile, she's miles away with her thoughts. "I thought you might like some pampering."
"It's perfect," she says with honesty, because this is the most caring thing anyone has ever done for her.
"Enjoy your bath, I'll make dinner."
So she does. She spends the next hour soaking in the hot bath, letting the hot water relieve some of the tension from her muscles. This is exactly the cure for the type of tired she is. The type of tired that sleep does not help with.
She exfoliates, and shaves, and does everything that makes her feel feminine. She goes through the gift bag, noticing with excitement that he didn't chose at random. He chose her favourite brands and her favourite products. She keeps wondering what she ever did to deserve Jay as a boyfriend.
When she exits the bathroom, her hair is wet, and a fluffy white towel is wrapped around her. Finally, after two weeks, she feels like a woman.
She takes her time getting dressed, and when he sees her, she knows her choice was correct. His eyes roam her body deliberately, so she stops walking and lets him.
The dark colour of a black satin robe creates a startling contrast against her white skin. She didn't bother tying the sash all the way, so it's falling open, revealing a matching black satin chemise with a daringly short hemline that stops high on her thighs. The top is sheer lace, leaving her breasts partly exposed.
"Happy Valentine's Day," she whispers in a husky voice as a reply to his earlier wish.
"Where on earth did that come from?"
"Just something I had lying around in the closet," she says and grins at how puzzled he looks. "Do you want to eat now? Or later?" After, is what she really means, and what he successfully reads between the lines.
He's there in a second, pulling her against him by the loosely tied sash. Their lips almost meet, but not quite yet, both enjoying the feeling of the palpable tension between them. He can feel her hot breath on his face, and from where he stands he can see her chest raising and falling with every strangled breath she takes.
"Later."
His fingers grab the sash, pulling it to untie. His movements remain slow, deliberateâalmost torturous. She gulps in anticipation, as he finally manages to untie the fabric. The robe falls completely open. He slides it down her shoulders, where it pools on the floor.
His hands travel down her body, fluttering over her hips lightly.
Their lips finally meet in a lazy, slow kiss that is everything. It's a tale of love, and partnership. It melts away the tiredness and the worries. The only thing left in the room is them.
Her hands slowly grab the hem of his grey t-shirt, with no hurry at all. She slides it up and off his shoulders, reveling in the feeling of his hard abs beneath.
Her fingers slide across his bare chest, caressing the soft skin beneath. "I love you," she murmurs. Her voice is merely a whisper, but the sudden stop in his movements assures her that he did hear it. At times, she thinks that perhaps she doesn't say it enough, but she does her best to show it.
She shows it now too, letting her hands speak, as she softly traces his back with her fingers. Her lips leave a trail of butterfly kisses down his body, until she reaches his pants. Her hands hook behind the elastic of his sweats and pulls down the rest of the clothing.
Her arms wrap around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. Her body presses against his, causing him to groan into her mouth, moving his kisses to her neck. She throws her head back, and enjoys the sensation of his stubble tickling the sensitive skin of her neck.
He turns her, so that her back is against him, and continues his kisses down her neck, while he fills his hands with the curves of her breasts. He teases her through the lace, enjoying the desperate whimpers coming from her mouth when he flicks her nipples softly.
Her hands reach back and grasp his sides, desperate to hold onto something, when his hands move lower. One hand remains on her breasts, while the other moves to her thigh. He starts low and moves up, scraping the skin softly with his nails.
It drives her mad.
"Jay, please." She's quivering slightly, pressing more and more against him for support. Her eyes are closed, misty with lust.
"I needâŚ" She doesn't get to finish her sentence before his fingers find her slit, and she moans at the sudden contact. He lets out a wild growl when he realizes how wet she is already. It doesn't take long for the pleasure to build up inside of her. He flicks his fingers over her clit once, twice, and she cries out, shuddering against him.
Still recovering, she moves her hands to remove the only piece of clothing there is left.
After that, they somehow make it to the bedroom in a frenzied storm of kisses. He lays her down on the middle of the bed. There are times where he can't control his urge to have her, where his lust gets the better of him (not that she's ever complained about it), but this time, he takes all the time to show her, exactly how much he loves her. And he loves her a lot.
When he finally slides into her, it feels like coming home. Her hands are digging into his shoulders, and her heels into his lower back, and it's perfect. They find their rhythm, and move slowly. His thrusts are torturously slow, giving her enough time to feel every movement. And she does feel it. She feels so much, it makes her throat burn and her eyes water. Because this thing she feels for him, there is no escaping him. And it terrifies her.
And when they come together his fingers entwine with hers, pressing their hands down into the pillow, and he buries his face in the crook of her neck, whispering her name over and over again. As a single tear escapes down her feverish cheek, she knows the love between them is worth all the fear of falling.
They eat in bed. She wears his t-shirt, which she claims her own from now on, but he knows he'll get it back when it stops smelling of him. She'll steal it again after he wears it, and he won't mind a bit.
The homemade pizza is a little cold by the time they get to it, but it's just as good. Maybe it's even better.
"This is amazing," she moans between bites, and he laughs.
"I'm glad. It's a family recipe."
"And this whole surprise, how can I ever thank you enough?"
"I think you just did," he teases and leans in for a kiss.
"Idiot."
"I think we needed this. This case has been kicking all of our asses."
"And such a cute ass it is," she says, her mouth curving into a teasing smile.
"You know I can think of better things to do with your mouth than teasing," he smirks, and leans over, capturing her lips with his.
The pizza is already forgotten, but one thing is abundantly clear. They might not be able to catch all the bad guys out there, but coming home to thisâa meal shared in bed, passionate lovemaking, midnight giggles, and the feeling of immense happinessâit makes all the difference in the world.
And tomorrow they'll have to go back, and face the cruel reality of the world, but for now, the night belongs to them.