Title: Forever in Blue Jeans
Rating: PG
Category: D/R UST, a little DRR at the end, Reyes POV
Summary: Movies, beer, and Neil Diamond.
Spoilers: nope
Disclaimer: I do not own them;
Therefore, I make no profit.
Suing would not be nice.
See authors notes at the end.
Monica Reyes's Apartment
7:29 pm
I've just finished slicing limes when I hear the jangle of keys at my door, and a moment later John appears before me, pizza in hand.
"Hope you don't mind sausage," he says, setting the pizza on the counter. "I wasn't sure if you'd gone all vegetarian on me."
I look at him, laughing. "As much as the idea of becoming a vegetarian appeals to me, John, I don't think I could ever give up cheeseburgers."
"Good." He gestures to the limes with his head. "What's with the limes?"
"Goes with this." I open the door to the refrigerator, showing him the contents. "Hope you like Corona." I hand him one and then take one out for myself.
"Works for me." He opens his beer and takes a lime slice from me, sticking it down the long neck with one of his fingers. He moves away, wandering around my apartment. "You've done a lot since the last time I was here." He moves around the loft space, touching things as though trying to divine some sense of who I am from my objects. "Who's this?" he asks, holding up a small elephant figuring with its trunk upturned.
I laugh, walking over to him with a plate of pizza. "He doesn't have a name, but my abuelita gave him to me before I left for college. Apparently an elephant with an upturned trunk is supposed to bring good luck."
"Handy to know." He takes the plate from me and heads for the living room, where I have moved the television for this evening. "So what're we watchin' tonight, Mon? Some sappy chick flick?"
"I don't know what offends me more-the fact that you think chick flicks are sappy, or that you think I watch them." I sit down next to him, remotes in hand. "You've got your choice of Monty Python and the Holy Grail or Beetlejuice. Pick one."
He turns to me, laughing. "That's it? Monty Python or Winona Ryder?"
"You said a comedy."
"I guess I shoulda been more specific." He nudges me playfully with his elbow. "Monty Python it is then."
"Good." I get up and slip the tape in the VCR, then dim the lights before sitting back down next to him. I make sure to sit closer than I was before, hoping he'll notice. I casually brush my leg against his as I lift my bare feet to rest them on the coffee table, and he responds by brushing my leg right back.
This is gonna be fun.
Once I see that he is engrossed in the movie, I sneak a glance at him. He's dressed casually, in jeans and a tee shirt, and somewhere between my front door and the kitchen, he's lost his shoes and socks. I like this: sitting next to him, watching funny films, and I wonder if I brushed his hand if he would recoil or if he'd go with it. Instead, I lean closer and inhale as subtly as I can-yep, it's that good, clean John Doggett smell, of Tide and Old Spice. Same as it always was and most likely, always will be.
He notices me leaning in and leans in as well. "Do I smell or somethin'?" he stage whispers, and I almost snort beer out of my nose.
"No..I'm sorry. Something smelled nice and I figured it was you." Lame, lame, lame, but I was caught off guard.
He tried to look at me seriously, but I could see the tips of his ears turning red with embarrassment, and his eyes were smiling even though his face wasn't. "Are you flirtin' with me, Agent Reyes?"
"Maybe."
His façade cracks and he laughs, slinging his arm around my shoulders. "You need to work on your lyin' skills, 'cause I don't buy that for one moment." He pulled me closer, and I lay my head on his shoulder.
"I'll work on it."
We watch the movie in silence for a moment, and then he speaks again. "You know, maybe we could go out sometime. You know, like to dinner or a movie. Not just pizza and beer."
"Are you asking me for a date?" I ask, raising my head to look at him.
This time it's he who lies to me. "Maybe."
I can't help but grin. "Maybe I like beer and pizza at my place."
"Maybe I wanna take you out an' show you a good time. Show you I'm no cheapskate."
"What? You always bring the food." I place my head on his shoulder again, and I feel his hand reach up to touch my hair. I sighed; I could get used to this.
"You okay?"
"I'm better than okay."
"Well, do you think if I got up and came back in, say, 45 seconds, you'd still be better than okay?"
This time I sit up. "What's wrong?"
He gestures to his empty beer bottle with his head. "Too much beer and not enough pizza. Where's your bathroom?"
"Just past the bedroom," I reply with a laugh. He extracts himself from me and heads for the bathroom. I pause the movie and sit back, waiting.
"What's that picture in the bathroom?" he asks, sitting back down and putting his arm around me again. Like a true man, he takes the remote from me and starts the movie back up.
"It's the Lincoln Tunnel. I got it from this street vendor in New York before I left. I just thought it was such a unique picture…very New York."
"Right," he says, and I can hear him rolling his eyes. "If you turn up with a picture of the Jersey Turnpike, I'm having you committed."
"You wouldn't do that," I replied.
"It's for your own good."
After that we got quiet, watching the movie. He seemed rather impressed at my knowledge of the movie…and I confessed that I had seen this movie many, many times in college.
When the movie ended he rewound the tape, but he didn't make a move to leave. Instead, he said to me, "Now what?"
"I dunno. Music? I like to listen to music while I clean up."
He nods. "You clean up and I'll pick the music."
"Deal."
He walks over to my entertainment center, flipping through my CDs. "This is quite a collection," he said. "I don't think I know anyone with this many CDs. What are you in the mood for?"
"Anything."
"Buddy Holly?" he asks, holding up a CD. "I never would have you pegged for a Buddy Holly fan."
I turn, empty beer bottles in hand. "Everyone knows that if you want to have a true appreciation of modern rockabilly, you have to listen to Buddy Holly, the original rockabilly artist."
"Right." He nods. "I'll keep lookin'."
I chuck the bottles into the recycling bin and rinse the plates before sticking them in the dishwasher. As I walk out of the kitchen, I hear the sounds of Neil Diamond coming out of my speakers.
"Neil? I didn't peg you as a Neil fan."
"I could say the same."
I laugh. "A gift from my old college roommate. These people that lived on our hall junior year…they had a thing for Neil, would play him all the time. It was kind of a joke."
"So you don't really like Neil." He was smiling again; God I loved that.
"Let's just say he grew on me."
John flipped forward through a bunch of songs, and when he finally stopped I had to grin. "I love this song."
" 'Forever in Blue Jeans'? Yeah, I can see that." He moves closer to me and pulls me into his arms, and I put my arms around his neck.
"Care to dance?"
I nod, unable to speak. I couldn't believe this. I had sort of planned to move our relationship to the next level tonight, but I hadn't expected it to be this easy. He pulls me closer and we sway to the music, his lips next to my ear.
"I'd say this song just about sums us up, wouldn't you?"
I pull back, looking at him. "Yeah, I would."
Yay challengefic! The required elements were:
1) The story had to involve Neil Diamond's "Forever in Blue Jeans"
2) The story had to be DR UST or DRR
3) An elephant
4) Winona Ryder
5) The Lincoln Tunnel
6) Vegetarians or vegetarianism
7) Old Spice
8) Buddy Holly
Thanks to Sarah for the challenge elements-betcha didn't think I could do it, huh? ;) Also thanks to Lisa for reading all the stuff I send…you really ARE a good friend!
Feedback? Come on, you know you want to. All the cool kids are doing it! Send it to AnnieW177@aol.com What are you, chicken?
Rating: PG
Category: D/R UST, a little DRR at the end, Reyes POV
Summary: Movies, beer, and Neil Diamond.
Spoilers: nope
Disclaimer: I do not own them;
Therefore, I make no profit.
Suing would not be nice.
See authors notes at the end.
Monica Reyes's Apartment
7:29 pm
I've just finished slicing limes when I hear the jangle of keys at my door, and a moment later John appears before me, pizza in hand.
"Hope you don't mind sausage," he says, setting the pizza on the counter. "I wasn't sure if you'd gone all vegetarian on me."
I look at him, laughing. "As much as the idea of becoming a vegetarian appeals to me, John, I don't think I could ever give up cheeseburgers."
"Good." He gestures to the limes with his head. "What's with the limes?"
"Goes with this." I open the door to the refrigerator, showing him the contents. "Hope you like Corona." I hand him one and then take one out for myself.
"Works for me." He opens his beer and takes a lime slice from me, sticking it down the long neck with one of his fingers. He moves away, wandering around my apartment. "You've done a lot since the last time I was here." He moves around the loft space, touching things as though trying to divine some sense of who I am from my objects. "Who's this?" he asks, holding up a small elephant figuring with its trunk upturned.
I laugh, walking over to him with a plate of pizza. "He doesn't have a name, but my abuelita gave him to me before I left for college. Apparently an elephant with an upturned trunk is supposed to bring good luck."
"Handy to know." He takes the plate from me and heads for the living room, where I have moved the television for this evening. "So what're we watchin' tonight, Mon? Some sappy chick flick?"
"I don't know what offends me more-the fact that you think chick flicks are sappy, or that you think I watch them." I sit down next to him, remotes in hand. "You've got your choice of Monty Python and the Holy Grail or Beetlejuice. Pick one."
He turns to me, laughing. "That's it? Monty Python or Winona Ryder?"
"You said a comedy."
"I guess I shoulda been more specific." He nudges me playfully with his elbow. "Monty Python it is then."
"Good." I get up and slip the tape in the VCR, then dim the lights before sitting back down next to him. I make sure to sit closer than I was before, hoping he'll notice. I casually brush my leg against his as I lift my bare feet to rest them on the coffee table, and he responds by brushing my leg right back.
This is gonna be fun.
Once I see that he is engrossed in the movie, I sneak a glance at him. He's dressed casually, in jeans and a tee shirt, and somewhere between my front door and the kitchen, he's lost his shoes and socks. I like this: sitting next to him, watching funny films, and I wonder if I brushed his hand if he would recoil or if he'd go with it. Instead, I lean closer and inhale as subtly as I can-yep, it's that good, clean John Doggett smell, of Tide and Old Spice. Same as it always was and most likely, always will be.
He notices me leaning in and leans in as well. "Do I smell or somethin'?" he stage whispers, and I almost snort beer out of my nose.
"No..I'm sorry. Something smelled nice and I figured it was you." Lame, lame, lame, but I was caught off guard.
He tried to look at me seriously, but I could see the tips of his ears turning red with embarrassment, and his eyes were smiling even though his face wasn't. "Are you flirtin' with me, Agent Reyes?"
"Maybe."
His façade cracks and he laughs, slinging his arm around my shoulders. "You need to work on your lyin' skills, 'cause I don't buy that for one moment." He pulled me closer, and I lay my head on his shoulder.
"I'll work on it."
We watch the movie in silence for a moment, and then he speaks again. "You know, maybe we could go out sometime. You know, like to dinner or a movie. Not just pizza and beer."
"Are you asking me for a date?" I ask, raising my head to look at him.
This time it's he who lies to me. "Maybe."
I can't help but grin. "Maybe I like beer and pizza at my place."
"Maybe I wanna take you out an' show you a good time. Show you I'm no cheapskate."
"What? You always bring the food." I place my head on his shoulder again, and I feel his hand reach up to touch my hair. I sighed; I could get used to this.
"You okay?"
"I'm better than okay."
"Well, do you think if I got up and came back in, say, 45 seconds, you'd still be better than okay?"
This time I sit up. "What's wrong?"
He gestures to his empty beer bottle with his head. "Too much beer and not enough pizza. Where's your bathroom?"
"Just past the bedroom," I reply with a laugh. He extracts himself from me and heads for the bathroom. I pause the movie and sit back, waiting.
"What's that picture in the bathroom?" he asks, sitting back down and putting his arm around me again. Like a true man, he takes the remote from me and starts the movie back up.
"It's the Lincoln Tunnel. I got it from this street vendor in New York before I left. I just thought it was such a unique picture…very New York."
"Right," he says, and I can hear him rolling his eyes. "If you turn up with a picture of the Jersey Turnpike, I'm having you committed."
"You wouldn't do that," I replied.
"It's for your own good."
After that we got quiet, watching the movie. He seemed rather impressed at my knowledge of the movie…and I confessed that I had seen this movie many, many times in college.
When the movie ended he rewound the tape, but he didn't make a move to leave. Instead, he said to me, "Now what?"
"I dunno. Music? I like to listen to music while I clean up."
He nods. "You clean up and I'll pick the music."
"Deal."
He walks over to my entertainment center, flipping through my CDs. "This is quite a collection," he said. "I don't think I know anyone with this many CDs. What are you in the mood for?"
"Anything."
"Buddy Holly?" he asks, holding up a CD. "I never would have you pegged for a Buddy Holly fan."
I turn, empty beer bottles in hand. "Everyone knows that if you want to have a true appreciation of modern rockabilly, you have to listen to Buddy Holly, the original rockabilly artist."
"Right." He nods. "I'll keep lookin'."
I chuck the bottles into the recycling bin and rinse the plates before sticking them in the dishwasher. As I walk out of the kitchen, I hear the sounds of Neil Diamond coming out of my speakers.
"Neil? I didn't peg you as a Neil fan."
"I could say the same."
I laugh. "A gift from my old college roommate. These people that lived on our hall junior year…they had a thing for Neil, would play him all the time. It was kind of a joke."
"So you don't really like Neil." He was smiling again; God I loved that.
"Let's just say he grew on me."
John flipped forward through a bunch of songs, and when he finally stopped I had to grin. "I love this song."
" 'Forever in Blue Jeans'? Yeah, I can see that." He moves closer to me and pulls me into his arms, and I put my arms around his neck.
"Care to dance?"
I nod, unable to speak. I couldn't believe this. I had sort of planned to move our relationship to the next level tonight, but I hadn't expected it to be this easy. He pulls me closer and we sway to the music, his lips next to my ear.
"I'd say this song just about sums us up, wouldn't you?"
I pull back, looking at him. "Yeah, I would."
Yay challengefic! The required elements were:
1) The story had to involve Neil Diamond's "Forever in Blue Jeans"
2) The story had to be DR UST or DRR
3) An elephant
4) Winona Ryder
5) The Lincoln Tunnel
6) Vegetarians or vegetarianism
7) Old Spice
8) Buddy Holly
Thanks to Sarah for the challenge elements-betcha didn't think I could do it, huh? ;) Also thanks to Lisa for reading all the stuff I send…you really ARE a good friend!
Feedback? Come on, you know you want to. All the cool kids are doing it! Send it to AnnieW177@aol.com What are you, chicken?