Title: Scent of a Woman
Rating: G
Pairing: DRR all the way, baby!
Disclaimer: not mine, don't sue
He was a man who noticed things.
As a Marine, he'd been trained to notice things that could indicate weakness in an enemy combatant: fatigue, fear, a simple lack of paying attention. As a cop, he'd used his attention to detail to eke out clues in cases that were seemingly unsolvable. And as an FBI agent, he'd managed to pair his powers of observation with his underused logic skills, and had made his mark in the Violent Crimes unit.
It was because of this precise attention to detail that he was caught off-guard, unaware, by something so simple and yet so profound that it hit him right in the solar plexus, causing him to lose all sense of time and space and do something he'd been too afraid to do.
It was the way she smelled.
He was a smart man, he had spent inordinate amounts of time with her-in the office, on stakeout-he knew how she felt about him. The depths of emotion in her warm chocolate eyes sometimes betrayed the sunny smile on her face and showed just how much she wore her heart on her sleeve. He'd have to be a complete idiot not to know, especially after their little 'cat people/dog people' chat a few weeks ago.
He knew. What he didn't know was how to tell her he felt the same.
He had resigned himself to being alone, being a divorced man of a certain age with all the baggage that came with it. Who'd want him? Certainly not her-ten years his junior, sunny and bright and full of life, she could have any man she wanted.
And yet, she wanted him. This both thrilled and frightened him.
It hit him in a crowded elevator, full of other agents scurrying to and fro, as the elevator slowly descended the floors to the basement. Once they were alone, headed for the basement, he realized two things: it was her scent that was enveloping him, and that he was a damn fool.
He couldn't place why her scent was having this effect on him, couldn't figure out why it gave him a feeling of excitement, of joy, until she moved slightly and the smell of cocoa and cinnamon filled his lungs. Suddenly his mind's eye was filled with happy memories: Christmas, his grandmother's cookies, a bike with a bright red bow, the feeling of complete and utter joy that only a child can experience on a cold December morning.
Happiness. She smelled like happiness, like joy. Like home.
The elevator dinged as the doors opened to the basement, and as they walked towards their office he felt butterflies of anticipation in his gut. He hadn't felt this way in ages, hadn't remembered how good the pleasant fluttering of happy nerves could be, and he realized that he could feel this way every day if he would just let himself. In that moment he decided that he never wanted to feel any other way, and as if propelled by an uncontrollable force he put his hand on her hip.
She turned to him, into his arms, and when his lips met hers he could feel her surprise. The surprise soon gave way to desire as she kissed him back, her hands on his neck.
"Guess you like my new perfume," she quipped with a small smile, pulling just far enough away to see his face.
He laughed. It was so very Monica of her. "Let me buy you dinner tonight."
She raised her eyebrows. "Dinner, not just drinks? That almost sounds like a date, John."
"It's not 'like' a date," he replied with a smile. "It is a date."
A flush crept up her cheeks as she fought off a grin. "If I had known all it would take to get you to ask me out was a new perfume, I'd have done it months ago." Her brow furrowed slightly. "No, really, what changed your mind?"
He shrugged. "Just realized I was missin' out on life."
He watched as she smiled, and slowly extracted herself from his embrace. "Glad you finally came to your senses," she quipped as she sat down and began reading.
"Me, too."