"Ah," Abbie sighs, turning slightly as she slowly wakes. Her body feels heavy, her limbs not completely willing to move.
Despite this fact, she feels amazing. Really good. Warm, happy, and… aroused?
"Mmm," she hums, squirming, fighting between staying asleep and waking. She feels too good for this to be real; surely she is dreaming. But she tries to move again and finds she still can't.
There is something heavy holding her hips.
"Oh…" she moans, the pleasurable sensations of her dream growing too much to be contained, and her eyes open halfway.
She immediately sees a head of long, wavy brown hair between her legs.
"Ichab…" Abbie croaks. "Oh, damn…"
Crane briefly looks up at her, then returns his full concentration to his task, his lips and tongue doing the most deliciously sinful things to her. Then he slides two fingers into her, curving them just so, and a moment later she explodes.
"Ah!" she exclaims, attempting to close her legs on his head. "Oh… oh, stop…" she gasps, reaching down to pull him up.
He gives her a smug look, licks his lips, then kisses her.
"Baby, it's two a.m.," she says, still tired.
"I am sorry, Treasure," he replies. "I awoke and did not recognize where I was at first. Then, when I saw you, looking like a beautiful goddess beside me, I was overcome with the urge to slowly wake you in the most decadent manner I could contrive."
She slowly nods, a smile gradually spreading across her face. "Wait, wasn't doing that, like, illegal back in your day?" she asks.
He merely raises an eyebrow and gives her a wolfish grin.
She laughs and says, "I guess what goes on behind closed doors is nobody's business but the participants'."
"Quite," he says. "And I do truly feel bad for waking you."
"It's all right," she says, curling into his embrace. "I imagine it was pretty disorienting."
He kisses the top of her head. "Yes. Eidetic memory or no, I was, as you said, disoriented. Seeing you there brought everything back into focus."
"Good," she replies, kissing his neck. She shifts closer and feels something hard against her hip. He took care of me but not himself.
"In truth, I was a little afraid to fall asleep for fear I would not awake again," he confesses. Then he groans when her hand wraps around his cock. "Oh… or that I would somehow find myself returned to my… non-corporeal form," he manages just before he moves over her. He reaches over to the nightstand and pulls another condom from the box.
"I thought of that, too," she confesses, reaching up to caress his face.
He kisses her and says, "I am quite pleased to be here and," he pauses, putting the condom on as quickly as he can, "very much alive."
"Apparently," Abbie gasps as he enters her.
xXx
When Abbie wakes the next time, the sun is up and Ichabod is nowhere in sight. She can see the rumple where he slept, and when she places her hand on it, it is still slightly warm.
"Ichabod?" she calls, sitting up.
A moment later, she hears a muffled flush. She lies back down and decides to pretend she's still asleep, just to see what he does.
Of course, she can't help peeping her eye open to see him walking into the room, wanting to see what he looks like in the light.
She's not disappointed. And she almost gets caught. But she wills herself to be still, her body heavy, her face relaxed.
Then, just when she thinks he's going to leave her to sleep, she feels the bed dip behind her as he climbs back in.
She waits.
Then she feels his lips softly press her shoulder and his arm snake around her waist as he spoons behind her.
He nuzzles the back of her neck, then brushes his lips against the sensitive skin there, and whispers, "I know you're awake."
Abbie smiles, unable to stop it now, but she neither moves nor opens her eyes.
"I heard you call my name," he presses, nipping the edge of her earlobe.
"I was talking in my sleep," she replies, stubbornly keeping her eyes closed.
"Hmm," he says, his hand moving up to nestle between her breasts, "as much as I love the idea of you crying out my name in your sleep," he kisses her neck, "I somehow doubt the validity of your claim."
She unconsciously presses her hips back, nestling her butt against his groin, and he groans.
"Minx," he rumbles.
She giggles and finally turns her head, opening her eyes. "Hi," she greets.
"Good morning, Treasure," he returns, kissing her cheek, mindful of her wish to first brush her teeth.
"Did you sleep well?" she asks, turning around now.
"Like the dead," he answers, his eyebrow quirking up. "You?"
"I slept really good," she replies. "Oh. I need to…"
He opens his arms to let her out. She grabs his robe and quickly throws it on before walking out and to the bathroom. If I had to change one thing about this place, I would have an en suite bathroom, she thinks in the hallway.
She brushes her teeth before she returns to her room. His toothbrush was wet, so he must have also done so. She also takes the scarf off of her hair and throws it into a quick twist to keep it somewhat tidy.
"Are you hungry?" Abbie asks when she returns.
"Yes, but I usually am," Ichabod confesses. "My mother used to lament the amounts of food I would consume in my youth."
"And yet you are that skinny," she says, sitting on the bed. "It doesn't seem fair."
"My dear, you have an enviable figure," he reassures her. "If you knew how many appreciative glances – nay, stares – you drew whilst we were out marketing yesterday…"
She smiles and looks down. "Thanks. I work hard at it though. My job helps me stay active. I jog… well, sometimes I do, and do yoga. And I watch what I eat."
"Yoga… fascinating practice, that," he says, reaching out and taking her hand.
"You know about yoga?" she asks, surprised.
"I studied a wide range of cultures all around the world," he answers, still toying with her fingers. "Also one female resident of this house fancied herself a devotee."
"Really? Enjoy watching, did you?" she teases.
His eyes widen. "Certainly not. She was terrible at it," he answers.
She laughs, then leans forward and kisses him. "Come on, let's go find some breakfast," she says.
xXx
"I want to tell you about why I am taking this sabbatical," Abbie says, curling against Crane's side. They wound up back in bed after breakfast, because Ichabod wanted to take a shower and decided Abbie should join him. After plenty of messing around in between actually showering, they tumbled back into bed to finish what they started.
"If you are not ready, I can wait," he responds, kissing her forehead.
"Thank you, but I want to tell you. It doesn't feel right, you not knowing the full story. I know you've heard bits and pieces, but I still feel like I'm keeping something from you," she says.
"I understand," he replies with a nod, touched that she knows he is sensitive about secrets after what he's been through. "Though this is not something you are intending to keep from me with malicious intent or because you fear my reaction, so it is a different situation."
"True," she agrees, though she's not quite sure how he came to that conclusion. Maybe he heard enough of the bits and pieces I've discussed with Jenny. She hesitates another moment, deciding how to start. "Macey Irving is a young lady who just turned 18. I saved her life, but she is paralyzed from the waist down now because I didn't get to her in time." She looks up at him and sees him listening with his full attention, not wishing to interrupt. Listening without judging.
She puts her head back down. "Her father, Frank, was my captain when I was with the Sheriff's Department," she elaborates. "Shortly after I joined the FBI, Frank exposed a big drug ring and was key in helping us break it up… Sleepy Hollow was a key stop on a route transporting illegal drugs between New York City and Canada… and the leader, a man named Atticus Nevins, took it personally when his people were busted. He kidnapped Macey and threatened to kill her if we didn't back off and release his men."
"What a deplorable character," Crane softly comments.
"Yeah. He was a real charmer," Abbie drily agrees. "Frank turned to us – the FBI – for help, knowing this was bigger than the SHPD. We had worked together on the drug bust, too, so everyone was invested in getting Macey home safely. But we fully took over, and because of my connection to Frank, I was Point. Um, sort of the lead person for this case under the director," she explains.
"Reynolds?"
"Yeah. I didn't want the position. I was happy to be on the team, but I didn't want to be in charge. I told him I was personally involved with the Irving family and didn't want that to interfere. He basically told me he knew I could keep my feelings out of it," she continues, unsuccessfully trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice towards the end.
"Treasure, may I ask…?"
She sighs. "Reynolds and I had a brief affair during FBI training. We were in the same class. I broke it off before graduation. It was fun, but… he was more into me than I was him. And I didn't want to get involved with another agent."
"Hence the remark about keeping your feelings closed off," he guesses.
"You are remarkably intuitive," she replies.
"Well, 235 years of doing nothing but observe will develop certain skills," he reasons.
"Right. Anyway, after graduation, I figured I'd never see him again, and if so, only rarely. Imagine my surprise when he walks in as my new boss after six months," she says.
"You must have been quite peeved, especially considering the man was previously your peer," he remarks.
"Well, there was an element of that, but mostly it was like, 'Oh shit.' My previous director was killed on an assignment, and somehow Danny – Reynolds – was chosen as his replacement," she explains. "Anyway," she pointedly presses on, "I reluctantly agreed to head up the team; what choice did I have, really? I… I can't go into all the details, because the FBI is very strict about that kind of thing and I also," she sighs, "really don't want to rehash them, but the condensed version is there was a deadline. Nevins gave a specific time to meet and collect his men, so we set up a sting. A trap. Things went sideways, and Macey got shot in the lower back because I misjudged and didn't draw my weapon fast enough. He got her right in the spine."
"And now Miss Macey is alive, but unable to walk?"
"Yeah," she answers, her voice soft. "Macey and her parents don't hold me responsible. In fact, they are… ridiculously grateful. To the point that it made me a little uncomfortable. Because I felt like I failed them."
Crane simply holds her, listening, his hands rubbing comforting circles on her back.
"My guilt was affecting my attitude and quality of work. So Reynolds basically told me to take the summer off. Said the mandate came from his superior. It was essentially 'take a break or take off.' So I took a break."
"By 'take off', they meant…?"
"Tender my resignation. If I can't handle the job, I shouldn't do the job. And they're right. I shouldn't do it if I don't have the balls for it. I also got the distinct impression that if I don't have my head straight by Labor Day, I should stay gone," she says. "So I bought this house as a project to give my mind something else to do. A little therapy via manual labor."
"Has it helped?" he asks.
She lifts up and looks down at him. "Between this place and you, my brain has been pretty busy," she says, smiling at him. "I haven't had the time or energy to punish myself."
"But have you had the time or energy to forgive yourself? Because it sounds like Miss Macey and Captain Irving have done," he gently asks.
She looks up, out the window, at the trees swaying in the breeze, at the bright, sunny day, at the room she has fixed up to her liking. She looks down at the wonderful, improbable man in her bed. He has done little more than listen and ask a few questions, but never once did he offer advice or try to solve her problem for her. She didn't even realize that was exactly what she needed until now. "I think so," she says. "I don't feel that uncomfortable hot knot in my stomach anymore when I think about the case or Macey. For the first time in months, I feel… content. Happy. And I have you to thank for it."
He smiles, but waves his hand. "I cannot accept all the credit, Treasure," he gently protests.
"Well, you'll accept some of my gratitude," she replies, tilting her head up to kiss his neck, her fingers stroking his beard.
"Oh, gladly," he agrees, then leans down and kisses her. "Have you corresponded with the Irving family recently?"
"No… I owe them an email or a call, I know," she confesses. "Macey sent me an email not too long ago telling me all about Tucson – that's in Arizona, which wasn't even a state back in your day – and how much she loves it there and that she's going to college in the fall. I need to write her back."
"I am sure Captain Irving understands your plight, being a man of law as well," Crane reasons.
"Yeah, he does. He's a great guy; you would like him. Very straightforward, very no-nonsense, but still likable. I always knew where I stood with him. We all did," Abbie says.
"Sounds like a very good man. And do you know where you stand with Director Reynolds?" he asks.
"Usually," she sighs. "I sometimes get the impression that he still has… romantic feelings for me."
"And how do you feel, Abbie?" he asks.
She props herself up on her elbows and looks down at him again. "I only have romantic feelings for one person, and it isn't Daniel Reynolds. Not at all," she answers.
Ichabod smiles more broadly than Abbie has yet seen. He pulls her close and says, "Good," before rolling them so he is over her once more. Then he seals his lips over hers in a passionate kiss that tells her in no uncertain terms that he feels the same.
xXx
"Rolling…"
"Rolling…"
"Rolling…"
"Rolling…"
"Rolling on the river…"
"Rolling on the riv—"
"Yeah, we're rolling…"
"Rolling…"
Abbie and Ichabod's duet along with Ike and Tina is interrupted by Abbie's phone.
"Hey, Joe," she answers as Crane hurries over to turn the volume down on the music. He resumes painting the dining room while Abbie talks to Joe.
"We found a nurse who's willing to come out to your house and not only give Crane his shots, but check him over as well," Joe says.
"Um, is that a good idea?" Abbie asks.
"Well, Jenny recommended her," he reassures her.
"Jenny knows her?"
"Yeah, apparently she's who she sees when she needs, um, discreet treatment. For work mishaps," Joe carefully explains.
"Right," Abbie replies, trying not to sigh as she wishes for the thousandth time her sister would find legitimate employment. "So she'll, what, stitch closed stab wounds and remove bullets without asking questions, is that it?"
"Something like that," Joe answers.
"Jenny is going to be pissed that she missed it," Abbie says, chuckling.
"Yeah, well, when Hawley tells her he needs her to go to D.C., she goes," Joe says with a sigh. "Anyway, Dora's shift ends in half an hour and she's agreed to follow me out to the house. You guys going to be… available?" he asks.
"Sure. We're actually working, but thanks for the implication that we're living in a den of iniquity over here," Abbie answers.
"That was this morning," Crane comments, and Abbie snorts a laugh.
"What was that?" Joe asks.
"Nothing. See you in a bit. And thanks again," she says.
"Hey, no problem," he replies.
Abbie disconnects the call, then picks up her paint roller. "Joe is bringing a nurse over to give you a house call," she tells him.
"Ah, very good," he says. "Is that normal in this era?"
"No," she answers. "But apparently Jenny, once again, has the sweet hook-ups."
He pauses, processing the phrase, then says, "Very good."
"You followed that?" she asks, walking towards him. She reaches up and tucks a stray tendril of hair behind his ear.
"I believe I gleaned the basic meaning, yes," he assures her, then kisses her forehead. "Miss Jenny has helpful connections," he translates
"You got it, Baby," she says. "You are super good at that," she adds, noting his tidy work painting around the windows. "I always have to put tape up."
"Thank you. I have always had remarkably steady hands," he replies. "Not to mention the fact that your clever blue tape did not exist in my day. So we had no option but to take great care when painting around edges."
"Good point," she agrees. "In any case, we'll get done faster not having to tape everything off." She starts to walk away to resume her own painting, but then she stops. "I mean… assuming you want to… stay around and… help…" she hesitantly says, suddenly unsure of what the two of them are doing and where they are heading. They just sort of jumped into this with both feet, never once truly discussing anything long-term.
She feels him behind her. "Abbie," he softly says, "I would like nothing more than to stay here with you for as long as you will have me." He places one hand on her shoulder, then kisses the crown of her head, which is currently covered by a kerchief.
She turns around. "You… you don't think you'll want to strike out on your own once you have all your shots and papers?" she asks, looking up at him.
"Treasure," he says, wanting to erase the unsure look from her face as soon as possible, "there is nothing for me out there in the world without you."
"That's a pretty big statement," she whispers, her heart speeding up.
He is still holding his brush in one hand, but he wraps his free one around her waist and pulling her close. "I would make a bigger one, if you will allow it," he murmurs, his lips brushing her temple. "It is not my wish to overwhelm you, but I think you may already know the words that are all but bursting from my lips."
She nods, turning her face into his neck, her paint roller hanging from her hand. "I love you, too, Ichabod," she quietly says, then looks up at him with uncharacteristic shyness.
"I have never heard sweeter words," he whispers, then kisses her. "I love you, Abbie," he says, needing to say the actual words, then kisses her again. "I know how closely you guard your heart, Treasure," he adds, briefly touching his nose to hers, "so I consider myself immensely fortunate to be the person to whom you have opened it." He kisses her, then rests his forehead against hers. "I promise you I will not mistreat it."
"Thank you," she whispers, blinking back tears, unsure what she did to deserve this level of devotion. She wishes she could craft beautiful declarations the way he does, but she has always been better at doing instead of saying. So she lifts up on tiptoe and kisses him with everything she has.
"We should get back to work before we prove Joseph's assumption correct," Ichabod says, reluctantly pulling away from Abbie.
"Yeah," she says, laughing. "That would be embarrassing."
"Indeed," he agrees. "Oh dear," he adds when she turns around to return to her wall.
"What?" she asks.
"It seems I was not as good at keeping my paintbrush away from you as I thought," he says. "On your derrière," he adds, pointing.
She twists and looks down, then laughs. "No problem. These are my painting clothes," she explains, then shows him another spot on the front, which matches the kitchen.
"Excellent," he replies, relieved. He turns the music back up, and Marvin Gaye's voice surrounds them as they work. A few minutes later, Crane exclaims, "'Get it on'? Is that truly considered a romantic turn of phrase?"
All Abbie can do is laugh.
xXx
Forty minutes later, the doorbell rings, and Abbie and Crane pause their painting, wrapping their roller and brush in plastic shopping bags to keep them from drying out.
"Ingenious," Crane comments with a bemused smile.
Abbie opens the door to see Joe standing beside a very pretty woman with dark hair and olive skin. "Hi," she greets, then steps aside to allow them to enter.
"Abbie Mills, this is Pandora Marcus," Joe introduces.
"Please, call me Dora," she says, smiling and shaking Abbie's hand.
"And this is Ichabod Crane," Joe adds.
Crane gives Dora a slight bow, smiles, and says, "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Nurse Marcus. Thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to pay us a visit."
"You're welcome," she answers, giving Abbie a brief glance.
"You'll get used to him," Abbie chuckles. "Living room all right for what you need to do?"
"Yes, that will be fine," Dora answers.
"Can I get you something to drink?" Abbie offers.
"No, thank you," she declines.
"Joe?"
"I'm good, thanks."
They file into the living room, and Dora begins by taking Crane's vitals.
"I did that already," Joe offers, sitting in a chair, watching. Abbie, mindful of the fresh paint on her butt, remains standing.
"Yes, and now I'm doing it," Dora calmly returns. "Ichabod," she says. "That is an unusual name." She looks up at him. "Speaking as one who also bears an unusual name, of course."
"Of course," he echoes, returning her smile. "It is a family name with which I was unfortunately saddled. At least you are able to shorten yours."
"Thankfully," she agrees. "My parents were scholars of ancient history and also had… interesting senses of humor." She begins withdrawing various vials and syringes, then adds, "I have a sister named Persephone and a brother named Achilles."
"I imagine your brother is happy they did not choose to call him Hades," Crane suggests. "Or Oedipus."
She laughs and says, "My sister and I are thankful that neither of us was called Aphrodite." Then she picks up a tourniquet. "May I have your arm please? I'd like to draw some blood."
"Certainly. May I ask for what purpose?"
She glances at Joe, who gives her a reassuring nod, then says, "It will tell us a lot about your health. Whether you have any diseases that need treatment. That sort of thing."
"Very good," he says, watching with fascination as she swabs his arm, then pokes into a swollen vein with a fine needle. She fills several vials, then bandages his elbow.
She gives him several shots and checks him over a little more thoroughly than Joe had done, looking into his eyes, ears, and throat.
"You appear to be in very good heath, Ichabod," she declares. "Especially considering you've had no immunizations. Joe tells me you were living a rather rustic life in England before moving here to be with Abbie?"
"Yes," Crane answers, remembering their story. "I am slowly becoming accustomed to the wonders of technology," he adds with a smile. "It amazes me that such small things can hold so much information and do so many things."
"People think they can't live without them, and here you are, living proof that it is possible," she replies. "Well, I hope you find America to your liking, and I'll make sure to send over the results of the blood tests as soon as I can," she says.
Abbie steps over, one of her cards in her hand. "Here," she says. "My home email is on the back, and you can reach me by cell any time."
"Thank you," Dora replies, pocketing the card.
"You're not going to get into any trouble with the lab, are you?" Abbie asks as they walk to the door.
Pandora smiles. "No. My husband runs the lab. It won't be an issue," she replies.
Joe chuckles, and Crane remarks, "It seems Miss Jenny isn't the only one with the 'sweet hook-ups'."
xXx
Just as they are cleaning up from their painting, Abbie suddenly looks up and says, "Oh, shit."
"What is wrong, Lieutenant?" Crane asks, walking over to where she is washing paintbrushes in the sink. He looks over her shoulder, thinking her exclamation was prompted by something she saw there.
"I forgot to take the chicken out of the freezer. I was going to cook for you tonight," she says. She dries her hands and walks over to the fridge, opening the freezer. She pulls out a whole chicken, which is frozen solid. She taps it on the counter and frowns at Crane.
"Ah. And I take it by your demeanor that there is no quick way to thaw that bird," he guesses, glancing at the microwave.
"No, that is one thing we haven't figured out yet," she confirms. "Another thing the microwave cannot do well, I'm afraid." She picks up the chicken and places it in a bowl, then sets it on the counter. "Tomorrow then."
"I will, of course, gladly eat whatever you choose to serve me," he says.
She stares at him for a long moment. "I know you probably don't mean that to sound as suggestive as it does," she finally says.
He blushes and drops his gaze, embarrassed but amused. He regroups a second later, clearing his throat and saying, "Well, it wasn't my intention," he pauses, stalking towards her now, "but if you are on the menu, it would be most… ungentlemanly of me to refuse." He is standing right in front of her, trapping her between his body and the counter.
She looks up at him, her lips parted. Her tongue darts out to moisten them, and his eyes track the movement, darkening as they do so. "I think you need to try Chinese food," she says, her voice breathy.
He blinks. "What?"
Her lips twitch, slowly curling into a smile. "Chinese food. King's Wok delivers," she explains. Then she quickly lifts up on tiptoe to peck his lips once before ducking out under his arm.
"Wait! Abbie…"