A/N So after intending to take a fic break, of course I get pulled back in by a plot bunny, which was mostly more of a dare by Wolfmusic. Since I love to write angst and that's where my comfort zone is, she suggested I try my hand at a little fluff piece. So here's my offering. This is as angst free as I could get it, but you guys be the judge. Hope I made her proud.
Disclaimer = I own nothing you see here.
Carter's bare feet touched the carpet on her bedroom floor as she emerged from the en suite bathroom. Her towel was wrapped around her, and tiny beads of water left a sporadic trail on her shoulders and arms, remnants of the shower she'd just had. She felt refreshed, awake, and ready to start the day.
She removed the towel and ran it across her skin, removing the last bit of moisture that clung to her. Lotion applied and clothes on, she gazed at her reflection in the mirror, putting her hair up in a neat ponytail. She turned her head sharply, hearing movement in the kitchen downstairs. Before she'd gone in the shower, Taylor had come to her room already dressed for school and said goodbye. She thought he'd be gone by now, but he must have decided to get something to eat first. As she put her brush on the dresser, she smelled bacon, eggs, and the distinct aroma of coffee; one that wasn't her brand. It was something different, richer, and she wondered where it came from. She shoved her feet into her bunny slippers and went downstairs to investigate.
"Taylor!" she called out, but he didn't answer.
She passed the staircase and went down the hallway to the kitchen, doing a double take when she saw just who it was. John looked up briefly from the frying pan and the eggs he was scrambling. His jacket was off, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up almost to his elbows. The early morning sunlight framed his face beautifully, and the warm smile he offered her made him look incredibly handsome. He looked perfectly comfortable and at home in her kitchen, and for some reason she found that incredibly…sexy.
"Good morning, detective." His morning drawl did nothing to help the onslaught of feeling this little scene awakened in her. It'd been a while since a man had fixed her breakfast, but she quickly brushed aside the sentiment and looked around the kitchen, her gaze falling on the island and the two plates on top of it. There was a small pan of cinnamon rolls, in addition to a can of coffee that she knew she hadn't bought.
"Well good morning to you," she said.
"Before you even ask…Taylor let me in."
She resisted the urge to laugh at his reference to his penchant for appearing in her house unexpectedly and without using the front door. She was pretty much used to him 'breaking in' whenever he felt like a visit.
"So you've been here a while, and you've been quite busy I see."
"Not that busy," he said, plating the eggs next to some bacon, and he sprinkled some shredded cheese onto the eggs. She walked closer to get a better look and had to admit it all looked very savory.
"I'd say you were, my kitchen doesn't see this kind of action this time of the day. In the morning it's usually just coffee or toast if I have the time. And that smells good I must say."
She picked up the coffee container, reading the label, and he explained that he'd had a cup of it at a bakery just a few blocks from his place. He wanted to share it with her and bought her a bag.
"Well that was thoughtful of you," she said. He poured her a cup and she took it enjoying not only the aroma, but the rich blend as it slid over her tongue.
He stood in front of her, watching as she swallowed, a familiar smirk on his face. "Tell me you don't like that," he teased. "I dare you."
The combination of his proximity to her and the coffee was surprisingly intoxicating. Why was his simple act of making breakfast so damn disarming right now? She fought to regain some composure. "No, you were right. This is good." She followed him to the breakfast table and sat down opposite him. "So what do you want, John? Spill it."
The only time he ever tried to bribe her with food was when he wanted something. But as she bit into her bacon and the absolutely delicious cinnamon bun, she knew whatever he wanted had to be big. Still, he feigned innocence.
"Nothing, Carter. I swear."
"You don't want a sealed file? An expunged record?" She continued to tease him and he grinned, the flash of teeth was cute, adorable. She started to question what was in the coffee she was drinking. The aroma and taste had to take the blame for finding him adorable.
"Suppose I just wanted to spend some time with you?"
"Unh uh, I don't buy that at all."
"Why not, Carter? After all we've been through together, the things we've faced…I do think of you as a good friend. Is it really out of the ordinary for me to want some quiet time with you?"
Carter was slightly taken aback at his admission. It was true; they had been through a lot together, gotten each other out of more scrapes than she could count. But they'd never verbalized what they'd begun to mean to each other, and truthfully she unconsciously thought that maybe that was best. After all she was a cop, he was an ex CIA vigilante that worked on the opposite side of the law. Admitting that they were actually important to each other might not be the best choice for either of them.
"I guess not."
Did he really want a favour from her, or were his motives completely innocent as he'd claimed?
She smiled, relaxing in her chair. "You know, once a week Taylor and I try to do this, sit down and have breakfast together. We talk about what's going on with each other, and I tell him what I can about work. He tells me all the details he feels he can about school. Still haven't been able to crack that proverbial 'safe' open when it comes to girls. I wonder sometimes if he wishes his father was still in the picture so he could talk about stuff like that man to man."
He smiled at her and took a bite of his cinnamon roll. A tiny bit of cream cheese frosting was left on the corner of his mouth and she stared at it.
"What?" he asked, noticing the distracted look on her face. "What is it?"
"You've got a…" she raised a napkin to his mouth, gently wiping at it. "…a little bit of frosting right there. Got it." Her hand only briefly touched the napkin to his face, but he held onto it before she put it down.
"Thanks, Carter," he said. His voice was husky, entirely too deep for her liking, and the brief touch left her warm.
"You're welcome," she said, a blush staining her cheeks.
"I think it's great, your relationship with your son," he admitted quietly.
She often wondered about his family. Up to this point, she knew very little about them, his early childhood, or what he was like growing up. She knew where he was from, knew his last name, but the intricate, personal details of who John was, were still mostly elusive.
"My father was big on discipline, routine, and everything being in its perfect place. Took a lot of getting used to growing up. I had my share of rebellious moments trying to find my own way. Can't say I felt close to what you have with Taylor, but every Sunday when my father was on leave, he'd fire up the grill in the back yard, and we'd have hamburgers, hot dogs, the works. Fruit punch all around, races in the pool, and…we felt like a happy family."
Carter saw the look of retrospect on his face, the hint of nostalgia, and she gulped back a feeling of strong emotion. She didn't feel pity for him as he spoke about the memory. She didn't feel it was necessary. The story could have been sad, could have sparked regret, but for John it was a delightful recollection, and she was happy he chose to share it with her. It was another layer of his life that he was allowing her to see. And though it was but a small glimpse, she liked what she saw.
She squeezed his hand for a moment and smiled. He mentally shook himself, bringing his thoughts back to the present and squeezed her hand in return.
"Now," he said, looking at her crossed legs under the table. "Let's talk about these bunny slippers."
3 Days Later
Carter sat at her desk doing paperwork, writing up reports, one of the most tedious and underappreciated parts of being a cop, she thought. Some people only recognized the collar, the perp you finally caught, but putting it all together at the end of a case and wrapping the whole thing up, was more time consuming than most people realized. Her hand was getting tired, and she felt slightly irritable. She wanted to go home.
"Do you know that before the 1870's it was illegal to use paper money in California?"
Fusco's voice caused her to look up, and she wondered at his question. "What?"
"Yeah, it was. Everybody used coins. Can you imagine having to carry around a change purse everywhere you went? I think it'd be pretty heavy."
"Depends on how rich or poor you were, I guess."
Fusco laughed and adjusted his glasses on his nose, still staring at his computer screen. "I guess you're right, Carter."
"What's with the American history lesson, Fusco?"
"Looking up some information on an elderly couple for Glasses and Wonder Boy. You were unavailable for this one, I guess."
"You're a regular comedian today," she replied.
"It's okay. This one I don't mind so much. At least I learned a little something."
"What's it all about?" she asked, and walked over to his desk. He was staring at photos of an older African American couple; Alice and Robert Mitchell. Both retired, both in their sixties, both looked as harmless as ever. He was checking to see if either of them had had a criminal record. They'd come up with not so much as a DUI.
"These two are as clean as they come. But a few weeks ago they were redoing the deck in their back yard. A termite infestation finally forced them to dismantle it and have it repaired. The wife likes to sit in the back yard, soak up the sun, husband likes to garden believe it or not.
"I believe it. And it sounds cute."
"Yeah the two of them have been together for over thirty years, enjoying their golden years. Imagine them tearing up their deck and when the contractors pull up one of the posts, they stumble on about $9 million dollars worth of rare coins."
"Whoa."
"Exactly. Now they ended up on our mutual friends' radars. Trying to figure out who'd have something against these two."
"Well, with a jackpot of $9 million, there's bound to be family and friends coming out of the woodwork."
"You would think that, wouldn't you? But besides a nephew who's on the other side of world working abroad –who they rarely get to see I might add – there's really no other immediate family they could call on. They've only really got each other."
The look on Fusco's face was grim for a second. Only having your spouse and no one else to depend on could be romantic, Carter thought. But it also had the potential to be pretty sad. What happened when that spouse finally died? She imagined that the hurt and sense of loss that the person left behind would experience would be devastating.
It made her slightly uneasy for a while, and she couldn't shake it.
After a long day Carter sat at home, freshly showered, in front of the TV. Taylor was in his room, and though the sound of music coming from it was louder than she'd have liked, it was at an acceptable level. At least until she couldn't take it anymore and would be forced to tell him to turn it down or off.
She was watching a wedding show on TLC, and seeing the bride freak out over tiny details of the ceremony reminded her of her own wedding. It seemed like ages ago and she wondered if she'd ever end up like the Mitchells; growing old together with someone who'd take care of her, be everything that she needed. Thoughts of John came unbidden to her mind, and she remembered him cooking her breakfast, making fun of her bunny slippers. He said he found them cute, but the mischievous smile on his face said otherwise.
Did he think of her when he was at home? Did he wonder - like she did about him - what she did all day when he didn't see her? Of course he didn't, she scolded herself mentally. But there was a nagging feeling that maybe he did. A stroll into a café for breakfast, the taste of a new brew of coffee and all he thought about was sharing it with her, it meant something. John didn't make grand gestures, but whenever he did something, however small, it was meant to have impact. And whether she wanted to admit it or not, breakfast in her kitchen –among other little things he'd done lately – had hit her hard.
She reached for her cell phone on the table beside her and dialed his number. It rang just once before he picked it up.
"Hello detective." The word fell off his tongue more as a term of endearment than a title, but she fought the smile that easily came to her lips when he said it. "It's late."
"I know."
"Your shift at the precinct is long over. Thought you'd either be in bed by now or watching a special interest channel till you got sleepy."
His estimation at her routine couldn't be more accurate. "You know if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were spying on me."
"You mean like finding out your work shifts, your routines, figuring out what you do at home when you're alone? That kind of thing?"
"Yeah, that. Not to mention all those things are borderline stalker-ish."
"I beg to differ."
"Of course you would."
"In the CIA, all those things were simply done for research purposes. " The teasing in his voice was unmistakable. He was enjoying this banter.
"Except you're not in the CIA anymore."
"Once an agent, always an agent. Can't turn that off."
She could picture his casual shrug even on the phone, and she heard his footsteps on what sounded like tiled floors. She drew her legs underneath her and leaned into the cushioned back of the couch.
"So what trouble are you getting into tonight? I must admit I'm shocked I have yet to be called to a crime scene somewhere in the Bronx by now."
"Just finishing up some work at a law firm."
She rolled her eyes, shook her head and saw a mental picture of him breaking into a law firm, probably to retrieve some files or find dirt on a suspect in the case he was working.
"Can you please just try to leave things as you found them, John?"
"Oh I'm already out the front door. Why don't you meet me, Carter? I have one more stop to make for the evening."
"Meet you where?"
Carter spotted the Lincoln Town Car exactly where John had told her he'd be. He saw her in his rearview mirror and unlocked the doors so she could slide in next to him. They were across the street from the Mitchells' house; he wanted to check up on them for a while before they headed to bed. They were having a late dinner inside, and he wordlessly passed her some binoculars so she could see what he'd been doing before she got here. She was touched by the scene before her, the care with which Robert handled Alice. She witnessed their tender smiles, the way Alice rolled her eyes at something he said right before she dissolved into laughter. When their meal was done, he helped her from the table and they sat in front of the TV.
Beside her, Reese was busy adding sugar and creamer to a cup of coffee. She watched him tear the edges of the sugar packets, adding just the right amount before he reached for the creamer. He peeled back the small container, careful not to spill it, and when he was done he idly stirred it, mixing them all together. Carter thought of the brief process, two sugars, one creamer, and realized as he put the lid back on the cup that he was making it for her. He knew exactly how she took it without being told. She thanked him and raised it to her lips, handing him the binoculars.
Their eyes held above the rim of the cup, and the look of care on his face was startling. She found she was speechless for a while, and could do nothing but contemplate what was developing between them. She wondered if he sensed it, but knew that he had to. The question right now though, was, should they do something about it.
Two hours later, John was satisfied that the Mitchells were safe from any threat - for the night at least - so he took her home. The sidewalks were littered with parked cars and he eased into an available space at the end of the block. He switched the engine off and got out to walk her to her door.
"It's alright, John. The door's right there, and besides I'm armed."
"Just humor me, Joss. It's the gentleman thing to do," he protested, and continued walking alongside her anyway.
"And now you're a gentleman."
"A gentleman, a rogue, a personal chef, a friend…I can be whatever you need me to be, Carter."
They crossed the street together, and Carter felt her pulse racing, among other things. She was never the type to get excited over pretty words or sweet talk, but damn if his wasn't working tonight. She felt more aware of his presence than she'd ever felt before, and her attraction to him was strong, too strong. She fumbled in her pockets for her house keys, as they ascended the steps to her front door. He stood in the back of her on the bottom step while she slid the key into the lock. All she had to do was open the door, turn the knob, and say goodnight, but she heard him behind her coming up just one step higher.
She turned around slowly, and though she was on the top step, and he was one step lower, she was now at eye level with him. She stared at his mouth and the usual smirk was nowhere to be found. There was no grim line either, only what she felt was an invitation to come closer. She raised her hand, about to touch her fingers to his mouth, but she put it back down, clenching her hand into a fist. He sensed her hesitation, and she saw a fleeting glimpse of what looked like disappointment on his face before it disappeared without a trace.
Her mouth was dry, her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth and once again she felt at a loss for words. That was happening entirely too much lately. Every word she could think of saying was lost in her throat. Thankfully, he saved her from embarrassment.
"Thanks for meeting me, Joss. Goodnight."
The Next Day
Lawrence Reid had been a carpenter for ten years; he'd worked with Millers Construction for the last five of them. It hadn't been an easy time there, since Reid was a man who wasn't short on his words. They'd butted heads on a number of jobs, but David Miller had kept him around mostly since he was a distant cousin of his wife's and he was a damn good carpenter. but David was growing weary of Larry's attitude, and though he was good, there wasn't a shortage of carpenters in New York. Larry had heard rumors that he was about to be fired soon, and contrary to popular opinion, men gossiped just as much as women did. He was nervous. He couldn't afford to lose the job, not right now, and not when he was in it for $20,000 to a local loan shark with interest piling on since he hadn't met the payment deadline.
He was the one who'd made the initial discovery in the Mitchells' back yard, and the thought of the elderly couple having access to that amount of money needled him until he couldn't take it anymore. With $9 million dollars, he could tell David and his cousin to fuck off, he could pay off his debt, and he could retire on some remote island in the Caribbean. All he had to do was off the couple and take the coins. As far as he knew they had no family, and their only relative lived in Europe. They were still in the process of acquiring a lawyer to represent them in the sale; he had to take his chance now.
He'd made a mistake, and hadn't counted on John Reese being around to stop him. Carter watched as Fusco carted Reid away, an angry look on his face. The Mitchells were visibly shaken, and rightly so. Besides the discovery of the coins, this was the most excitement they'd ever experienced in their quiet life. Carter stood next to Reese as they both watched Finch hand the Mitchells a business card. He promised to have Stephen Ferrier give them a call, he was a numismatist who'd help them value, market and sell the coins. Robert Mitchell took the card warily, but when Finch shook his hand, his expression softened, and he took Alice back inside. It was early morning, and he needed to fix her breakfast.
Carter smiled as Robert put his arm around Alice and ushered her up their front steps. Reese nudged her shoulder, and she looked up at him to see an identical smile on his face too. Finch ambled over, glancing between them both. "Good work, Mr. Reese. You too, detective."
"Me? I can't take credit for anything. Fusco's the one who saved the day on this one."
"You helped a bit here and there," Reese said, looking down on her. "They gonna be okay?" he asked Finch.
"I think they will be. Stephen can be trusted, and after the sale, they want to take a short vacation together. It's been overdue, according to Alice. They might pay a visit to their nephew in London."
"She's a feisty one," Reese said.
"She does seem to be, yes. She kind of reminds me of someone," Finch said, looking pointedly in Carter's direction.
"What?" she asked, and Finch nervously shook his head.
"I think I need to go walk Bear," he answered. "See you back at the library Mr. Reese. At least…when we get another number, that is. Joss."
"Bye, Finch."
Carter watched him walk off, and thought that his comparison of her and Mrs. Mitchell couldn't have come at a more opportune time. This case for some reason kept reminding her of what she'd had with John. Whatever it was had become important, had become routine. It had become something that both of them needed. She'd been thinking about it all night, in fact just before John had called her and Fusco down here, she' thought about the fact that maybe she wanted more. It was crazy, their lives were crazy and their circumstances would never be normal or ideal, but she couldn't fight it any longer. She couldn't fight what she felt when she was around him, and she was just foolish enough to think that maybe they could both try.
As the Mitchells went inside, she could see John was loath to move. He stood still next to her and she wondered at his thoughts. "Feel good?"
"Yeah," he said. "Better than the last few cases for some reason." He seemed both happy and embarrassed about that admission.
"Sometimes it's the people that touch us, remind us of who we are deep inside, what we stand for."
They moved in step together and walked down the street to his car. "I wonder why they never had kids. Why didn't they start a family?"
"They tried…in the beginning. Alice had two miscarriages, and after that…the doctor said it wasn't safe to try anymore." He seemed heartbroken for them despite the rich life that they seemed to have had regardless.
"You know, something tells me that they're going to be fine. They have each other, and they seem happy with that."
He nodded in agreement as they got to his car, and he paused on the sidewalk beside her. It was now or never, she thought, and she couldn't understand just why she felt like such a chicken shit right now. They'd fought side by side together, fearlessly, she thought, and one simple thought, one question, was so difficult right now.
"Listen John…I'm just gonna come out and ask you something before I change my mind."
"What is it, Carter?"
Her face was hot and she felt really uncomfortable. He looked at her in a way that made her wonder if he knew exactly what she was thinking. "I was just wondering…if you'd like to go out with me. This weekend. For dinner."
He looked surprised, she thought. He looked caught off guard, and he literally took a step backwards. She was a fool, she was an idiot, and now he would never let her live it down. What made her think that this was a good idea? Some breakfast in her kitchen, and a stupid cup of coffee in the front seat of his car on a stake out? She wanted to disappear, press the rewind button, do anything to erase her question.
He was smiling. Not a full on toothy grin, but his cheeks rounded, and he looked down. Maybe…
"You want to go out? On a date with me, Carter?"
"Forget it, I shouldn't have asked." She walked away, swallowing hard, wondering how in the world they'd work together after this. She felt his hand on her arm, and he was pulling her back.
"Wait, Carter," he said.
"No way. Not for you to make fun of me." She felt a little angry, stung at what she perceived as a snub.
"I'm not."
"You're not what?"
"I'm not making fun of you." He hadn't let go of her arm, and he spun her round to face him. She looked up at him, finding a bit of hope in the tender tone of his voice.
"You're not?"
He shook his head. "I would never. I'd love to. Go out with you, I mean. Just tell me when."
