Title: Green Light
Author: rekkidbraka
Rating: T
Pairings: EJ Barrett/Mike Renko
Category: Romance
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.
Spoilers: None
Summary: Will EJ and Mike take things to the next level?


He'd been watching her all day. Cleaning up things that were already clean. Her way of working off stress. But they hadn't even started their next job for Hetty yet. What did she have to stress out about?

Well, there was the matter of the kiss that never happened the night before.

She'd been playing it off like it was no big deal. But it had been.

"You know," E.J. began, a little frustration creeping into her tone, "you COULD give me a hand."

Mike smirked and, putting his beer down on the coaster he'd placed on the coffee table, clapped. E.J. shot him a dirty look and threw a dishrag at him.

"Hey, you asked," he said, wrinkling his nose at the dishrag.

"Dishes, Renko," E.J. snapped, not kidding. "Wash. Dry. Put up."

"You're not the boss of me, Barrett," Mike muttered.

"Actually, I am," E.J. said. "Ask Vance. Or Hetty. So move it."

Mike sighed, finished his beer and, mumbling some obscenities, made his way to the sink. He wasn't scared of her. Much.


She'd gone out that evening for a couple of hours. Running. Working out. Some lame excuse to get away from him. When she got home, she'd showered. He'd slacked it on the couch all day, hung over from all the whisky the night before. He had to cut back.

E.J. entered the large living room / kitchen area and, without a word for Mike, got a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

"How long's this gonna go on?" Mike asked. "The silent treatment?"

"I'm not giving you the silent treatment," E.J. said defensively.

"You're not talking to me," Mike shot back.

"I just did," E.J. snapped. "I'm talking to you now, in fact. See? Speech."

"You're pissed about last night," Mike said.

E.J. narrowed her eyes at him. Her face flushed red.

"Nothing happened last night," she hissed. But he'd hit a nerve. She was hurt, not mad.

"We gotta work this out," Mike said quietly.

"Work WHAT out?" E.J. replied in a brusque tone.

"C'mon... " Mike said, challenging her. His green eyes were fixed on her. She wasn't sure what to do. He was staring at her intently and she was getting mixed signals.

Was she reading him right?

The way he was sprawled on the couch was an unspoken invitation to join him. Not to make a place for herself independently of him, but to lay with him, mesh her body into his.

She hesitated.

Getting involved with a man she worked with had never turned out in her favor before. She didn't want to screw up this second chance the Director had given her. Yet she couldn't lie and tell herself she wasn't attracted to him. She had been since their first meeting. Mike had been the one who'd backed off last night. But now he was looking at her like he wanted her. What had changed?

She knew that she wanted him.

"Come here, Barrett..." Mike whispered as she approached the couch.

And then she was fitting herself against him, loving how it felt to be in his arms, tasting the sweetness of his tongue as it pressed against hers, probing gently.


He hadn't been in his own bed for nearly a month since E.J. had moved in. And now he was flat on his back, naked, letting her explore him. As her tongue caressed his neck, working its way to his chest, he flashed randomly on how clean the sheets felt underneath him. She wouldn't have it any other way.

One hand stroked the smooth skin of her back, the other tangled itself in her hair. The sensation of her lips, her tongue on his skin was making him crazy. He growled deep in his throat. The pain in his groin was agonizing. He needed her now, no more waiting.

But she was, by nature, a tease. And teasing him, making him wait until she was ready to have him, was part of the game.

She straddled him, pressing down on his groin, but didn't take him inside. He moaned softly, even pitifully. She tossed back her hair and smiled down at him.

"Soon..." she whispered, her lips brushing his. "Soon..."

Maybe the other guys had all waited for her, done it her way, but he couldn't.

He wouldn't.

"Now..." he groaned, pulling her down hard against his body.

She was breathing as heavily as he was; she wanted it just as much.

They locked eyes for a minute. Who would break first?

"Say please," she whispered, barely able to speak.

He swallowed hard, closing his eyes. This was torture.

"Please..." he moaned, unable to continue.

Then she offered him a soft smile. And made love to him more tenderly than any woman ever had.


Later, as Mike slept, E.J. studied him in the moonlight. It had been so good, this night. He was better than she'd thought he'd be. And that was saying something. No man — and she had been with many — had ever satisfied her like he had. Not even Tony. Tony hadn't come close to Mike. There was no comparison.

Then again, she thought, Mike didn't call out Ziva's name at "that" moment. Tony had. He'd apologized, said it was the wine they'd had at dinner. But she knew the truth. She was always just his substitute for the real thing. If he couldn't have Ziva in bed, he'd pretend. With her. That had been the beginning of the end. She wanted a man who loved her — not someone who was lying to himself about his feelings for another woman.

Mike. He loved her.

She knew it.

She'd seen it in his eyes when he let go. He'd gazed up at her, then passed out for a few seconds. But before blacking out, he'd called out her name. Slurred it, really. He'd been unconscious when she released him. She'd had to slap him, gently, to bring him around.

But just now, he'd thrown one arm across her protectively, possessively. And he'd mumbled her name again.

Her name. Nobody else's.

She closed her eyes and let sleep overtake her as Mike pulled her gently to his body, groaning softly as she snuggled into him.

This was good. It was right.

And she slept for a long time, soundly, in Mike's embrace.


It took him a minute or so to realize that the pounding he heard was coming from the door to the apartment, not from his own skull.

E.J. was out. The hammering at the door wasn't waking her up. But he didn't want it to, either, so he got out of bed and, hastily pulling on his jeans, ran for the door. And whatever jackass was playing a drum solo on it at... 6 a.m? What the HELL?

He flung the door open, pissed to no end. Before him stood a kid — arguably the skinniest black kid he'd ever seen — with a huge '70s afro. He wore a Chicago Bulls t-shirt. Pretty bold in Lakers Land. He couldn't have been over 20. The kid, stopped in mid-pounding, flashed a huge smile at Mike.

"Yes?" Mike muttered, trying to be polite. If this guy was a tweaker looking for a fix...

"You Mr. Renko?" the kid asked, silly smile still plastered on his face. Mike eyed him cautiously.

"Why?"

"Espe-shee-al dee-livery for you, SIR," the kid said sarcastically, emphasizing the word "Sir." He handed Mike what appeared to be a square item wrapped pristinely in brown paper, tied with string.

Mike yanked the kid inside the apartment, slamming the door.

"Hey MAN!" the kid squawked, unhappy at being grabbed so rudely. "Git yo' hands OFFA me!"

"Who're you workin' for?" Mike asked in a low, threatening tone.

"Yo, I ain't sayin' NOTHIN', man!"

E.J., rousted by the noise, had slipped into a satiny robe. She pushed back her hair and casually strolled over to Mike's side.

"I'd talk if I were you," she told the kid, cocking her head over towards Mike. "I don't know what he might do if you piss him off any more than you already have. He's terrible until he's had his morning coffee."

The kid's eyes were wide as saucers. Mike loomed over him, snarling. E.J. yawned, stretched and somewhat flounced merrily over to the kitchen area.

"Well, whaddaya know..." she said, smirking as she opened a cabinet, looking back at the kid. "Looks like we're all out of coffee, babe," she said flippantly to Mike.

Mike narrowed his eyes at the kid and took a threatening step towards him. The kid stumbled backwards, nearly falling.

"Guess I better get dressed and go get some. You guys'll be okay by yourselves for a while, right?" E.J. slowly started for the bedroom.

"C'MON, MAN!"

The kid was panicking. E.J. smirked, waiting...

"A-IGHT! YO!" he hollered, terrified of Mike, who continued backing him down. At last, the kid stumbled in reverse until he fell onto the couch.

E.J. strolled over to where their visitor sat, trembling, on the couch.

"Spill it," she said, folding her arms as she joined Mike in giving the kid a death glare.

"Mister Leon!" the kid said, quaking with fear, "He told me to go see Miss Hetty, aight? And she gave me that for y'all..." He indicated the square package. "Tol' me to git y'all what y'all need, aight? She just hook me up with that lil' thing."

"Hetty sent you here?" Mike asked, squinting. He wasn't sure he was buying this but... it did sound like Hetty.

"Leon?" E.J. repeated. "You know Director Vance?"

"He tight with my Pops from back in the neighborhood - when they was boxin'," the kid said. "My mama said he called up a couple weeks ago sayin' he wanted me to hang up them spitbuckets back in the gym 'cause he was hookin' me up out here, aight? With a REAL job. My mama all proud 'cause everybody know Mister Leon a big man now. He fly me out here first CLASS, yo!"

E.J. winced. This loudmouthed kid got the red carpet treatment from Vance. She was barely worth coach.

"First lesson?" Mike told the kid, "You gotta learn to shut up more."

"But you ASK me..."

"SECOND lesson," Mike continued, "is there won't be a third lesson if you screw it up with Hetty and Vance. You got that?"

The kid pursed his lips, sighing in frustration.

"Dag... This job suck already..."

"Your name," E.J. demanded curtly.

"Dazz," the kid said.

"Your REAL name," she snapped. Just how was this kid supposed to help them? To "get them what they'd need?" Right. He looked like he could totally handle that. Sure. Yeah, that'd happen.

"DAZZ," he insisted. "Dazzler Davis Jr. My Pops was..."

"Dazzler Davis Sr.?" Mike finished for him. "I'm just guessing."

"You real funny, man."

E.J. picked up the package, untied the twine and carefully unwrapped the brown paper. It was a record. Frank Sinatra. Vintage vinyl. Expensive. Mike rubbed his chin, studying the album cover. E.J. cautiously slipped the record from the sleeve. It was in perfect condition. Never played. In fact, it was signed.

"Hetty - You were aces about Vega$. Doubling-down on The Sands. Love always, doll - Frank"

The woman really was everywhere, E.J. thought. Amazing. What hadn't she apparently had a hand in? Then again, E.J. thought, maybe it was better not to know.

A note then fell from the sleeve. Mike picked it up.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," he read.

"The hell does that mean?" E.J. asked, studying the note. It was typewritten on a machine that, judging from the lettering, was an old model. Definitely manual; not electric.

"Pancakes," Mike said, scratching his chest. Another missive from Hetty. Always looking out for her agents.

To Dazz, he nodded towards the door. "You know your way out, right?"


Their usual table at Spades. With the view of the car wash. A fine way to start the day, E.J. thought. Welcome to sunny Los Angeles.

Without even greeting them, Vi the Waitress slipped over and set coffee before them. Coffee black for the Hot Shot. Coffee clean spoon for the Cheerleader.

"The usual, Hot Shot?" Vi asked Mike, knowing the answer.

"Nah," he mumbled. "Think I'll switch it up today."

"Blueberry pancakes it is," Vi said, scribbling on her pad. "What about you, hon?"

E.J. actually considered the menu. She liked Spades but she didn't want to pack on pounds, either. Mike obviously had the metabolism of a teenager in a growth spurt. But she cared about what she ate.

"Wheat toast," E.J. said. "And scrambled eggs."

"Health Nut Special," Vi said, taking the order. E.J. smirked up at her. Vi winked back, then left for the kitchen.

Once Vi was gone, E.J. and Mike sat silently, neither knowing exactly what to say. They'd had their work routine down. Also their Odd Couple routine. Then last night had happened.

"So I was thinking if we pooled our cash," E.J. began, in an uncharacteristically nervous tone, "we could find a bigger place. You know, one with two bedrooms and..."

"Sorry I snore," Mike said, not taking his pale green eyes off of her. "That bug you? Keep you awake?" He sipped his coffee thoughtfully. "Maybe I can get one of those nose-clip things."

E.J. blushed, folding her arms over her chest. She looked down at the table, then back at Mike.

"Just so you know," she said, a little smile playing at her lips, "I can totally hog the covers."


"Don't forget your receipt, hon," Vi said, handing E.J. a ticket from her order pad. When E.J. looked at it, she noticed that an address was scribbled in pencil.

"Hey, Vi?" E.J. began, "I think this is the wrong..."

Vi leaned close, raising an eyebrow knowingly at E.J.

"Oh yeah, hon," she said, smacking her gum as she gave E.J. a conspiratorial wink, "Hetty? Says don't be late for your appointment."