A/N: This was supposed to be a one-shot, but it's a hot day where I am, and ice cream sounds like a plan right about now. And since John suggested it, why not?
Enjoy—and stay cool, people. :-)
"One chocolate and strawberry, one vanilla chocolate chip coming up," the server at Bowson's Deli and Treats said to Joss and John, respectively. They were fresh out of John's favorite cookie dough ice cream, so he opted for two scoops of vanilla chocolate chip, in a sugar cone. As they got their ice creams, Joss remembered that she was supposed to pick up some bologna for Taylor, as her teenaged son still liked his bologna and cheese sandwiches, just as he did when he was little.
"I better make sure I get this lunchmeat for him" she said, partially to herself. "He'll want to pack some sandwiches for basketball camp this week."
"Okay, Joss. I'll wait here. Let me hold your cone. Are...uh...you okay for money?"
Joss smirked at him and rolled her eyes. "You paid for the ice cream, but I can handle this."
Joss proceeded to order the meat, along with some more sliced cheese, pickles, a jar of spicy mustard, Kettle chips, and one of Bowson's famous apple pies. She didn't do that often, but for some reason, she felt like splurging on sweeties. The pie would be delicious heated up for a few seconds in the microwave.
"You look like you're buying enough to feed an army of four," John said, "You sure you're okay for money?"
"Yes, I'm sure. But thank you."
However, once Joss prepared to pay for the items she'd ordered, she dug out her wallet from her jeans pocket and realized that she didn't have any credit cards on her, which is what she would have used to get all the items. She then remembered that she'd switched wallets after her shift the other night, and the plastic was there, at home, and not with her.
"Oh, damn! My other wallet has my credit cards. Oh, I..."
"How much is it?" John piped in behind her.
The total, as it read on the register screen, was $21.67.
"I don't have but ten dollars in this wallet. I'm sorry, but I have to put back some things-"
Before she finished, the clerk was handing John back his change, and then began bagging the items that Joss had ordered. She turned to John, who looked down at her with hooded lids and his trademark smirk.
"You didn't have to do that, John."
"Well, think of it as me just helping a friend."
"Okay. Thank you. As soon as we get back to my house, I will pay you back."
"Sure. Got any lettuce and tomatoes to go with that bologna and cheese?"
##
The cop and the vigilante walked back to her house, their ice cream cones dripping spats of sugary stickiness on the ground. They managed to finish them before making complete messes of their hands and clothes, while John offered to carry the bag of supplies Joss had gotten for sandwiches. John insisted that his payback for footing the bill was to have her make him a sandwich before he headed off for his own place.
"I will pay you back the money, John. That's what's right."
"You let me be the judge of that, Joss. And I don't want the money. I want a sandwich."
Upon turning to her door way, she smiled sheepishly. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. You make me a sandwich, and we're even. I'm quiet a fan of bologna and cheese, too."
"What is it with you grown boys still eating like little boys?"
"The classics never go out of style, Joss. Not ever. I'll need to wash up when we get in," he said.
Joss unlocked and unpacked all the items, while John went down the hall to her guest bathroom to wash his hands. She did the same the kitchen sink, and then began the prep for the light meal of sandwiches and chips. Iced tea would wash it all down.
It was really lucky that he'd been there. She was saved the embarrassment of not having enough money at the deli. But now, he was staying over for what was, for all intents and purposes, supper. This was a first, in all the months she'd known him—and she wasn't quite sure what that meant, if anything.
Well, she wouldn't read anything into it. It was just a plate of sandwiches and iced tea. He'd sit down, eat, wipe his mouth, and leave. And they'd have another homicide to prevent—or investigate—the next day.
It was nice to take a break from all that, she had to admit. And even if that did happen with John, it was okay.
They would just eat. And not talk about that kiss he'd laid on her before going to the deli.
"Need any help, Joss?" he asked, coming into the kitchen, his now rather noticeable broad frame taking up the space of the entryway.
"Nope. This stuff will be ready in a few minutes. You go in the living room and make yourself comfortable. You like iced tea?"
"I do. Thank you. And I think I will go to the living room to await my payment. I'm hungry all of a sudden."
"Well, no one can live on ice cream cones alone. Go on. It'll come right up."
##
A plate of bologna and cheese sandwiches with cut crusts, spicy mustard, mayo, and lettuce and tomatoes sat next to a bowl of chips and a pitcher of iced tea on the coffee table in Joss' living room. John had turned the TV on to a belated Mariners' game and was now settled on the couch to watch it. It was the same time odd and somewhat comforting to have him in her house like this, to see his profile, his shoulders, on her sofa. When she gave the signal, he dug in, with thanks to the cook after a big gulping first bite, along with three more before the first sandwich was merely a memory.
"You weren't kidding about being hungry!" Joss marveled. "Please, save the sandwich maker at least one."
"Mmm, they're good, Joss. And I have my appetites."
"Do you, now? That's good, I guess."
"Mmm hmm. I do. Hearty ones."
"More than one?"
"Sure," he said, between sips of iced tea. "A man must be diversified, you know. Otherwise, he's a bore."
"Oh, I don't think anyone would ever accuse you of that, John Reese. I'm glad you're satisfying one of your appetites, at least."
John had picked up the second sandwich, only to pause and then put it down again. He picked up his glass of iced tea, the cubes clinking against the glass, and took another sip before putting that down too.
"Something wrong?" she asked, puzzled at his behavior.
"No. Nothing at all. I just think," he said, with a purse of his lips, "that I'd like to have some of that pie now, if I could."
"Oh! Yeah, sure. Coming up."
John got his apple pie, but this time, he didn't inhale it like he had the sandwich. He took careful, measured bites with his fork, as if he was studying the texture, the apples, the cinnamon. It was a strange way to eat pie—but John was a strange man, in his way, so she didn't put anything past him.
But then, he put the plate down on the table. And just as it had been in the deli, she wasn't ready for his quick reflexes and before she knew it, he had gently pulled her partially into his arms and captured her lips in yet another kiss. It was, as the one outside had been, slow and probing, his tongue softly demanding entry after a few strokes of his lips. Joss, to her surprise, found herself acquiescing to the pressure of his tongue, but he still broke the kiss to ask for more.
"Open your mouth, Joss," he breathed heavily. When he returned to her lips, she complied, and his tongue slid easily between the folds of her lips to find her own. She could taste the sticky sweet of the pie, the hint of apple mingled with the cinnamon. And it made her want more. Her hands raised up to his back and she pulled his head down to deepen the kiss. John groaned as his mouth explored hers, as his tongue continued to explore her mouth. His own hands found her hips, and pulled her closer to the heat that was his body, a heat that, unlike the burning sun outside, did not deter Joss. Her fingers dug into his hair, still slightly damp from her attentions with the bucket earlier.
John's hands began to roam, over her thighs, her hips, across her back, and finally, her hair, as he twined his fingers through the loose strands not being help by the clip she wore. But then, even the clip was fair game; he pulled it out, letting her mane cascade messily down her shoulders.
But soon, it was too much. Both of them were heading towards a doorway of no return. And one of them had to stop before they went through that door. Goodness knew what that would have been like in the aftermath, when they had to work with each other.
"John...mmm...John...hey...whoa...slow down...slow down..." Joss panted while his lips still stole kisses from her lips, her neck, and then the top of her chest where the t-shirt didn't cover her creamy mocha skin. "John!"
That last one reached him, and he stopped. Breaking contact, he moved away from her and ran a hand through his hair, the heavy sigh intermixed with the rise and fall of his chest and belly.
"Yeah...yeah, you're right...I'm sorry."
"It's okay, John."
He looked around, somewhat bewildered, his eyes darting from her to the TV, to the dining room table, to his shoes, and back to her before he ran his hand through his hair again. She had to admit to herself that it was amusing to see the bad ass vigilante flustered after that kiss. He spent so much time not being ruffled by bad guys and other threats that a kiss—a kiss from her—could get him all hot and bothered made her smile inside.
"I should, uh, I should go," he stammered.
"Yeah. I've got a double tomorrow, should get to bed soon..um..."
"Right, of course. Well, uh...thank you for the cool off and the...sandwiches...and the pie."
"Yes, the pie. You want to take some home? I can wrap this up, along with a couple sandwiches."
"Yeah, yeah sure. That'd be great."
"I could put them in an insulator bag with an ice pack. Against the heat, you know..."
"Yeah. Thanks."
"Still just helping a friend, John."
"A friend. Yes, of course. A...friend."
Their eyes met. Each one of them had so much to say to each other, but the words stayed locked behind their eyes. If the time ever came when those words came from their lips was anyone's guess.
"Okay, I'll get these things ready," Joss said.
"You do that, Joss," said John.
Upon his exit from her front door, John turned to her and bid her goodnight, while holding up the sandwiches and pie in his hand. She laughed in response.
"Hey next time you want ice cream, you let me know, Joss? I'm your man."
"Sure you are. Will do, John. Good night."
"Good night, Detective."
"Good night, John."
Her back fell against the door upon closing it. She touched her lips, slightly fuller, still tingling from John's kisses, and spotted her hair clip on the floor where he's dropped it.
Just a friend, Joss. Just...helping a friend. Just...a...friend. Damn, Joss. Damn!
A/N: Yes, Joss. You have to work together. You can't start sleeping together. Of course you can't. Right? Ahhh, we could take bets, haha!
Hope you enjoyed, and onward to the finale. Thanks!