Author's Note: This story is part of my "Spaces In Between" series - see reading order on my profile page. There are specific references to events in "Broken Together" and "Can't Trust That Day" along with the season 6 episode "Haunted".
"We could have stayed for the second set, if you'd wanted." John followed Fin inside his apartment as Fin placed his keys on the hook by the door. "It's not as if we have to get up early for work tomorrow."
"Nah. I was good leavin' when we did." Fin slipped off his coat, then took it and John's to hang up in the hall closet. "Had a good time, but I haven't packed yet. And I thought you wanted to get on the road early tomorrow."
"Early as in before noon, not the crack of dawn. Traffic through Connecticut can be a bitch, but after that we should be fine."
"However you want to do it. I'm just enjoying the time off."
Somehow John had managed to get a week's vacation right when the captain demanded Fin use his remaining leave, which he'd never really taken after his shooting. They'd spent their days so far simply taking it easy in the city, relaxing and enjoying New York during the holiday season as they normally never could. Tomorrow was Friday and they were headed to Vermont for the weekend, some ski resort John promised would make for a nice quickie getaway even if neither of them had the slightest bit of interest in hitting the slopes.
Fin didn't really care where they went so long as there was a comfortable bed in their room and not much reason to get out of that bed for the next few days except to eat, shower and take a piss. Without the pressures of the job looming over his head, he'd been feeling positively insatiable when it came to sex—something in which John was always willing to indulge him.
Indeed, Fin turned around after hanging up their coats to find John behind him, arms gathering him close for an embrace to chase away the December chill from outside. His lips were slightly cold against Fin's but warmed quickly to their kiss, one that promised the night was far from over.
"I had fun tonight," John said when they finally paused for breath. His hands sought out the hem of Fin's sweater and his t-shirt beneath, their touch icy against bare skin but arousing. One of the best thing about winters in New York, Fin had decided, was warming up from the cold with John. "Admit it, this was a nice change of pace from beer and burgers at O'Malley's."
"I ain't arguing with you on that," Fin conceded. John had reserved them a table at a jazz club in the Village that night—dinner and an early set by some Afro-Caribbean quartet touring through from Miami. Neither had heard of the group before, but by the end of the night they'd left with the band's two cds to add to their growing (and slowly coalescing) collection.
John had been trying to coax Fin out for more evenings like this for ages. Break up their usual routines, he'd always say, do more things together than merely grabbing drinks or food before heading to one of their apartments for a fuck. And Fin was starting to enjoy it, as long as they eventually got to the fucking part of the evening.
That was rather high on his list of priorities at the moment. He not-so-gently started urging John in the direction of the bedroom, a well-trodden and known path they could follow in the dark. "I've got your second set right here, baby." Fin reached down to give John's ass a firm squeeze. "And maybe an encore if you like it."
"In that case," John answered, "I'm putting in my request for 'Free Bird' now."
"Yeah? I'm putting in my request to get into my bed so I can get inside you."
"Your wish, my command." Fin let go of John long enough to allow him to sit on the edge of the bed and kick of his shoes, leave his glasses on the night stand. He turned on the bedside light, casting a warm glow on the room and revealing the same eager desire in his eyes that Fin felt burning through his body.
Fin had no patience for undressing before continuing his attack, pinning John onto the bed for another kiss, this one more demanding than before. The music tonight had him all wired up—that and maybe the extra round or two of drinks he'd had earlier, more than he'd typically allow himself when work could call at any time. "Still don't know how you pulled this off, man," he said, brushing his lips along John's jawline.
"Mmm, what's that?" John arched his neck in appreciation of Fin's mouth against that tender skin.
"Getting time off to match when I'm taking mine. Never thought the cap'n would go for that."
"I assume he's noticed what a bag of nerves I've been since you got shot. No doubt he figured I needed the break as much as you did."
Fin thought John was probably correct. The man hadn't been acting quite himself since then: moody, edgy, prone to getting set off at the littlest things. Fin knew he too had been distracted and distant immediately after the shooting, wrapped up in his head and trying to sort out various demons from his past who had returned to haunt him.
He'd thought they'd cleared the air between them over it all, but perhaps there was still some lingering tension to resolve. Maybe that's why he'd been so insatiable in his appetite for pleasing John as well as himself these past few days.
Fin reached under John's sweater and tugged impatiently to get it off. They'd be warm enough in short time; no need for heavy clothes, or the thick down comforter on the bed with what Fin had in mind.
"Easy," John cautioned. "That's a Ferragamo. Cost me most of a week's paycheck."
"Don't care what it is 'cept it's in my way." Fin did take a little extra care easing the garment over John's head, amused as static electricity spiked up with his silvery hair. John was usually Mr. Well Put-Together, and that was hot, but Fin liked it when he could leave him a little messed up and disheveled. That was extra hot.
Fin got his hands in that hair to muss it up further while they kissed again, grinding his trapped erection against John's body. For once John was leaving Fin's own hair alone—so far, at least. He didn't mind the way John enjoyed playing with it except it could mean a lot of work at the end of a weekend getting it neatly braided again.
Fin started on John's t-shirt next, pulling it off with no special care so he could get his hands on that skin. John made appreciative noises and Fin returned to his neck, hungry to suck on it, bite down, maybe leave a good mark or two that would last through the weekend. It wasn't as if they had to worry about what anyone at the 16th might say or think tomorrow.
"Fin...fuck, that's...oh...wait, hold on."
"What now?" Fin wasn't in the mood for John's teasing or fussiness tonight. He just wanted to give the man a solid fucking. Or maybe a good blow job first and then a fucking. But pulling away slightly he saw an anxious look in John's eyes, one that quickly turned Fin's desire into worry. "What's the matter?"
"Nothing. Nothing's wrong," John started reassuringly, reaching up to put his hand on Fin's cheek. But his expression clearly suggested otherwise, and Fin knew when he was holding back. "Just...something I wanted to wait until this weekend to bring it up, but I don't think I can wait another day."
Fin shifted to lay side by side with John, trying to quell his increasing nervousness. He liked it when things were easy, fun, playful between them, when they didn't get hung up on deeper stuff. "Sounds important."
"It is."
"Something I'm not gonna like."
"No, I mean...I certainly hope that's not the case." John sat up on the bed, tucking his long legs in under his knees. Fin figured this meant he'd better sit up, too, and that left him even more anxious. They didn't generally "do" serious talks like this, save for the occasional argument that rarely lasted longer than a few minutes and usually started over something stupid like who forgot to throw out the moldy leftovers in the fridge from three weeks ago. John attempted a smile, as if to put Fin at ease, but it failed miserably. He reached out to take one of Fin's hands and squeezed it lightly. "Fin...we've been doing this for, what...about two years now?"
"I guess." He hadn't really been counting, but that sounded about right. He could only assume John meant having sex when he said "this", because he couldn't think of anything else that would require some kind of late night confessional between them.
"And it's good, isn't it?" John asked.
Fin shrugged. "I ain't kicked you out of bed yet."
That earned Fin a more genuine smile. "I appreciate things the way they are, I'm not looking to change that," John continued. "But I do want you to know—if it's not obvious already—that this isn't just about the sex for me anymore. Truthfully I don't know if it ever was. You're my best friend, a partner I wouldn't trade for anyone...and I love you, Fin."
Fin blinked, uncertain how to respond. He wasn't...surprised, not if he really took a moment to think. But it was the saying of it, the putting into words of what they had in a way Fin didn't usually choose to analyze that closely that unsettled him. "Wow. Okay."
"I don't want you to feel like you have to say anything. Not now. But I finally had to say it so you knew, get it out before you could joke away the moment."
"When would I do that?" Fin asked, confused.
"Right after you got shot. And I came by because you were being a stubborn ass about everything."
You tryin' to tell me that you love me, Munchy? Fin's own teasing words came to him as he thought back. "Oh. Right."
"Yeah. So no joking here. I mean it. I love you. If something were to happen again...something one or both of us don't walk away from...I didn't want you not to know."
Fin nodded, and placed his free hand over John's in silent thanks. He really didn't know how to respond, he was thrown off his game, and he didn't want it to seem in any way as if he were cheapening John's confession by simply parroting it back at him.
Even if...even if he did feel the same way. Didn't he? If he stopped being so damn hardheaded for a moment and really examined his feelings.
"I appreciate that," he finally managed, and John seemed to accept it as enough. The anxiety that had darkened his eyes earlier was gone, replaced with love at last expressed freely and openly.
"So uh..." Fin started, hand running up John's forearm, "with that out of the way, can we get back to what we were doin' before?"
"You mean getting naked and fucking like rabbits."
"Yeah."
John leaned in and kissed Fin, and then pushed him down onto the bed.
The alarm clock on the night stand told Fin it was just past four in the morning. Not a glimmer of dawn broke into the room yet and the city outside remained quiet. John lay beside him, seemingly content in his lover's light embrace. That kept Fin from shifting or moving around, despite feeling restless, pensive, unable to return to sleep himself.
He'd been up for a while now, thinking, reflecting on things. Thinking about when he first got his transfer to SVU and met his new partner, vowing to himself that he wasn't going to get close. Thinking how it should be easy to do that, given they seemed to have absolutely nothing in common. No need to get friendly, let alone anything beyond that.
And then...well. Realizing how completely wrong he was. Or maybe discovering how he enjoyed the challenge of someone who didn't have to always be or think like he did, that what mattered was having respect for their differences. Finding out slowly that John Munch wasn't the person Fin had pegged him to be, and deep down they had a lot more in common than he had dreamed possible.
Discovering, too, a desire that he had never known or acknowledged lived deep inside of him. Something that John had coaxed to the surface and had made so real, so vital, it was increasingly hard to know how he had gone through life so long without it.
John stirred, drawing Fin out of his thoughts. He rolled over and found Fin's lips for a kiss in the dark. "Can't sleep?" he asked softly.
"Was sleepin' fine," Fin said, "at least 'til I woke up a while ago and started thinking."
"And now you can't go back to sleep."
"Mm."
John sighed. "Guess I threw you for a loop earlier?"
"Kind of," Fin admitted, "but not for the reasons I know you're imagining."
"Oh, really? You can read my thoughts now?"
Fin grinned a little to himself. "You ain't as mysterious as you try to make out that you are, John. You're worried you've scared me off by admitting to having feelings. Guess I'm worried to have to think about my own."
"I told you I wasn't expecting or needing anything in return."
"I know. But that ain't fair when I'm just being stubborn to admit to things." Fin traced his fingertips over familiar skin, the curve of a lean collarbone and shoulder. John wasn't the lover he'd ever fantasized about, but somehow now he was the only one Fin could picture in his mind. And in the dark, he found the strength to speak of his feelings. "Comes down to the fact that I don't think I ever understood how being 'in love' was supposed to feel. Sure I loved my momma, my brother...I love my son more than anything even if he doesn't believe that I do. But that's family, that's blood. That's...different. That's not being 'in love' with someone, you know?"
Fin expected a typically Munchian sarcastic response, but John simply said, "I know," and let him continue.
"I got married 'cause it seemed like the thing to do, what everyone said I needed to do next in my life. Get married, have kids, be a good responsible man and father. But then all I wanted to do was to run 'n hide. Spend all my time undercover, be someone else 'cause it was easier than going home to a life that didn't feel the way I thought it should. That felt even more like a lie. That I tried to think was love but I know it never was."
Fin sighed, struggling a bit to pull his thoughts together and glad for John's silence, for letting him talk without interruption. "What I'm tryin' to say is...I understand that now, 'cause of what we've got here. It's real because it's not based on some bullshit idea of what love is supposed to be. It's about trust, knowing I can count on you when I need you. Knowing you don't push me to try to be something I'm not."
"But I will kick your ass when necessary."
"Same here," Fin agreed with a small laugh. But then he said more seriously, "I'd die for you, John, without hesitation, no regrets. That's how I know that I love you."
Fin heard John let out his breath with a deep exhale. He wished then that he'd had the courage to say all of this in the light of day, or with the lamp on, so he could see John's expression. But as John placed a hand on Fin's chest, he had the feeling he would have the chance to say it again, no doubt many more times in his life.
And that was perfectly fine with him.
"So we're on the same page," John said.
"Seems like it."
John slipped his arm around Fin, pulling him into a close hug. Neither spoke again for some time, for nothing else needed to be said. John eventually pressed his lips to Fin's forehead and said, "I'm glad."
"Me too."
Holding each other close, gentle touches and kisses slowly began to stir a waking desire for more. Lazy caresses started to become more insistent, hands moving lower to stroke and tease. They took their time with each other, savoring that they didn't need to rush to beat the alarm or else be late for work. By the time Fin had John gasping and spurting hot into his hand, and soon followed in his own explosive release, the first glow of morning had begun to creep through the bedroom windows.
"I don't want to move," John groaned into his pillow.
"Ain't got to yet. You said we didn't need to leave too early."
"Hmph. You know, we don't really need to go anywhere this weekend. We could just stay here and...well..."
"Celebrate not being stupid asses about this any longer?" Fin finished for John.
"Mm hmm."
"We could," Fin agreed, feeling similarly unmotivated to do anything at the moment. "But you wanted to go away, so let's do it."
"If you're sure."
"Yeah. Kind of like the idea of runnin' around in some snow that isn't all grimy with city dirt and trash for a couple days. Then getting you all cosy in some cabin...warmin' up in the jacuzzi..."
"Mmm...fine," John agreed. "Don't have to twist my arm. But I think I need a recovery nap first."
"Same." Fin yawned and pulled the blanket over them. An hour or two, he thought, then they could get going. That would be all right. Maybe he'd finally get some genuine rest now that he'd gotten through what he'd needed to say, and found it hadn't been so hard after all.
Love was easy when it was real.