I got very tired of super short little chapters, so here you go.

Thanks for the reviews, and enjoy. :)

After

Juice was in the den on his laptop when Olivia got home. He glanced up, seemingly nonchalant, and then went back to what he was doing.

"Expected you later," he said. "Or is the infamous Jackson Teller a five minute man?"

"There's no need to be crude, Ortiz," she said. She hung her jacket in the foyer closet and paused a moment in the doorway. The idea of sitting down next to him was suddenly daunting. She didn't want to have this conversation. At all. "Want a beer?"

"Yeah," he said. "I guess."

She nodded and headed toward the kitchen, but he set his computer aside and followed her. He hovered behind her, angry for a reason he couldn't quite name. Or wouldn't, because it was stupid. They'd talked about it. He'd known her plan. He'd known the second he got her text what she had in mind.

"I was going to bring it to you," she said without turning around.

He made a frustrated noise and shut the refrigerator door when she opened it. She spun toward him with a frown. "What? I thought you wanted a beer."

He lifted her chin to get a look at the marks on her neck, and she jerked away, suddenly furious.

"Don't you dare look at me like that," she hissed.

"Like what? You text to say you're gonna be late, then you walk in covered in hickeys. How do you expect me to look at you?"

"Jesus Christ, Ortiz, we aren't actually married!" She shoved past him and stormed up the stairs, and he chased after her.

"I know that, Olivia. You think I don't know that? It doesn't mean I don't care about you, or worry. You're my partner. It's my job to look out for you."

She paused at the door to her room and shook her head. "I don't need you to worry. I can take care of myself. And I think we both know partners aren't all they're cut out to be."

The door shut behind her with a final sort of thud, and he stared at it, at a loss.

Normally he respected her space. When this whole thing had started they'd been complete strangers, and he knew how important it was that they maintain a certain distance. But he was angry, and the conversation wasn't over. He was tired of her always calling the shots between them.

He shoved into her room, startling her. She had her shirt half over her head, and when she saw him she yanked it back down again.

"What the fuck?" she cried. "Ever heard of knocking?"

He ignored her. "If you want to fuck Jackson Teller, I'm not going to stop you, but you should know I think it's a huge mistake. You're better than that. You deserve better than that. When I came up with this idea I never meant—and now that I know you I definitely didn't mean—" He made an impatient gesture. "There are other ways to get what we need. You planted the virus. Give it a chance to work!"

"Goddammit, Ortiz, I didn't fuck Jackson Teller!"

His mouth fell open. "What? But the—the…" He waved at her neck, dumbfounded.

She sighed and scrubbed her hands over her face before she sank down on the edge of the bed. "I had him," she said. She flicked her fingers toward her throat. "Obviously. I didn't do this to myself. We easily could have fucked."

He hesitated a moment, then slowly eased down next to her. "What happened? He didn't—he didn't hurt you, did he?"

"No." She managed a brief smile. "No, nothing like that. We kissed. It was actually—I mean it was fine. Nice, even. Then we were on the bed, and…I don't know. I couldn't do it. I stopped him, and to his credit he was a perfect gentleman about it. Walked me to my car, even."

"Forgive me if I don't applaud Jackson Teller for not raping you, Olivia."

She made a face at him. "It wasn't like that. I said no, he stopped. Period. I'm not saying he's some saint or he deserves a medal—I just mean there are guys, especially guys in his position, who wouldn't have. That's all."

He decided to let that lie. "Why did you stop him?" he said, quietly.

"I don't know."

"Look at me, Olivia," he said, his voice soft and urgent.

"Juice, it's not—"

"Look at me."

She did, finally, and her expression was as vulnerable as he'd ever seen. "I planted the virus. I want it to work."

"I do too," he said. He scooted a tiny bit closer and brushed his fingers against the back of her hand. "Why did you stop him?"

"He's not who I wanted to be kissing," she blurted.

He tried not to smile. "Who, then?"

"Don't be an asshole," she said.

"I can't believe he gave you hickeys," he said with a scowl.

"Oh my God get over it."

He ran his thumb along her arm, then over the marks on her neck. "I should be the one giving you hickeys," he said, low and warm. "The only one."

She shivered, but tried to cover it with a laugh. "Not really married, Ortiz," she murmured.

"I don't give a fuck, Liv. I don't want him even looking at you. The last thing I want is him touching you."

"Don't you think it's my decision who touches me?"

He let out a sigh. She was probably going to punch him any minute. He might even deserve it. "Of course it is." He started to move away, but she grabbed his hand.

"Good," she said. "Then it's you. I want you."

"Please tell me you're not messing with me, because if you are—"

"Shut up, Juice, please," she said and kissed him.

She curled her fingers in his t-shirt and for a moment he had no idea what to do with his hands. Finally they settled, one on her shoulder and the other tangled in her hair. He sucked her lower lip into his mouth and rubbed his tongue across it, and when she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her body against his he groaned and somehow managed to break away.

He rested his forehead against hers and hauled in a gasping, gulping breath. "Baby, we can't. I can't. I want you—God knows I want you so bad it fuckin' hurts—but not like this."

"Why? Because you're not the first man I've kissed tonight?"

He closed his eyes a moment. "That's part of it, but not for the reason you're thinking. What happened with you and Jax, it doesn't change anything. It doesn't change how I feel about you."

She ran her fingertips along his jaw. "How do you feel? Tell me, Juan Carlos."

"I—I like you. I care about you." He dropped her eyes. It wasn't exactly what he wanted to say, but he couldn't tell her the full truth. It was too much, and too inappropriate. "I want you," he finally said.

"Okay. I feel all of that about you, too. It's why I stopped him. It's why I couldn't go through with it. You have to know that, Juice."

"It's nice to hear," he said with a sweet smile. "I'd hoped that was why, but…it's nice to hear."

"So tell me what's wrong."

He rubbed his thumb across her mouth. "You're upset. It's been a weird day. I just don't think it should happen this way." He paused and dropped her eyes. "If it happens. If you want it to happen."

"I want it to happen," she murmured.

"Yeah," he said. "Me too."

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "All right," she said. "I'm gonna go take a shower. Please don't leave. Stay in here with me tonight. Nothing has to happen. I just—I don't really want to be alone." She chewed her lip, suddenly unsure. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah, Liv. I'd really like that."

"Okay," she said. She kissed him, soft and easy. "I'll be back."

"Okay," he said. When she started away he grabbed her hand and tugged her back. She tumbled into his lap, giggling, and he ran his hands through her hair as their lips met.

"I'll be right back," she said.

"I know. You said that." He kissed her again.

"You have to let me go."

"In a minute," he mumbled against her mouth.

It was another twenty minutes before she finally made it to the shower, but somehow she didn't mind.

For a split second before she opened her eyes she thought she'd gone through with it and was snuggled in bed next to Jackson Teller. But then everything that had happened last night came rushing back and she recognized Juice's familiar sandalwood-and-citrus scent. She relaxed, more relieved than she would've thought possible, and nestled in closer.

He lifted his head and pressed a soft kiss to her temple. "You okay?" he said, his voice hazy with sleep.

"Yeah," she said. She laced her fingers through his and pulled his arm more tightly around her. "Just forgot where I was for a sec. It's a danger in this line of work."

"You're here with me," he murmured. His lips brushed her ear and his breath was warm across her cheek. "You're right where you belong."

"Ortiz—"

"Hush. Don't shatter my illusions just yet."

She laughed. "I wasn't going to," she said. "I was just wondering what exactly that is digging into my ass."

"Um. Well, see, sometimes when a boy really really likes a girl…"

"Shut up, you idiot," she said.

"You're so mean." He bit her neck and she giggled.

"You don't seem to mind too much," she said, wiggling against him.

He hissed. "Liv, please. I can only take so much."

She turned over to face him and he let out a little sigh of relief. "When did you start calling me Liv?"

"I don't know," he said. "If you don't like it I can—"

"No," she said. "I do."

He brushed her hair back from her face and stroked his thumb along her jaw. "What time do you have to be at work?"

She sat up a little to get a look over his shoulder at the clock. "Two hours."

"Hhhmm. That might be enough time."

"There's only one five minute man in this neighborhood, and it's not Juice Ortiz," she said with a smirk.

"Exactly," he said. He rolled over on top of her and settled between her legs. She made a soft noise and shifted, and his forehead fell to rest on her shoulder. "We don't have to do anything. I can move."

"Do you want to move?"

"God no."

"Good. Then don't." She carded her fingers through his hair and their mouths met, slow and easy. "I knew you were trouble the first time I saw you," she whispered.

"Oh yeah?" He brushed his nose against hers and slid his hand under her shirt to caress the soft skin over her ribs.

"Mmhhmm. You were leaning against the wall, cocky as all fuck." She trailed her fingers down the back of his neck and along his spine.

He nipped at her jaw until her head fell back, then he traced a line of kisses down her throat. "You were wearing that top. The silk one. Did you bring that top with you?"

"No," she said. The muscles in his back rippled as she pressed her palms against him. "It didn't really seem Sophie's style."

"That's too bad." He sucked lightly at her collarbones. "I like that top."

"You wanna hear the story or not, Ortiz?"

"Yep," he said, kissing along the curve of her shoulder. "I was leaning against the wall, handsome as all fuck."

"Oh my God," she said on a laugh. "You're impossible."

"It's part of my charm," he said. "Just like arguing with every single thing I say is part of yours."

Her brow furrowed. "I don't argue with everything you say."

"Case in point."

"Juice!"

"Mmmm." He kissed her just beneath the ear. "Say it again."

"Get off me, you idiot!"

"Aw, baby, I haven't even started yet."

She was giggling uncontrollably by that point, her entire body shaking with laughter. He leaned back and watched as her face turned red and tears rolled down her cheeks.

"What?" she said between gasps. "What is so damn interesting?"

He shook his head. "Just you," he said. He kissed away her happy tears and laced his fingers in her hair. She stilled, all of a sudden, and the intensity on his face made her bite her lip. "You're so beautiful," he mumbled. "First time you smiled at me I thought you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen."

"What?" she said again.

"Um." He flashed a sheepish grin. "I knew you were trouble, too. That's all."

"Uh huh," he said. "Hence that nonsense with the engagement story."

"You loved that engagement story."

She rolled her eyes and shoved at his shoulder until he flipped onto his back.

"Admit it," he said. "Doesn't do any good to argue."

"Yes!" she said. "Yeah, Ortiz, I fucking loved it."

He curled an arm under his head and smirked. "I knew it."

She smacked him on the chest with the back of her hand. "No one likes smug, Juan Carlos."

He grabbed her hand before she could pull it away again and kissed the tips of her fingers. "But you like me."

"Hum." She reclaimed her hand and turned over onto her stomach. "There are things about you I like."

"Oh?" He flipped over next to her and nudged her with his shoulder. "Like what?"

"I don't know," she said. She cut him a look. "Your smile's okay."

"Okay?"

"Not bad."

He kissed her shoulder, the exact spot that made her shiver. How'd he know that already?

"I like your butt."

"My butt?" he said, grinning.

"Yup. It's a cute butt."

He patted her ass. "I like yours too."

"I know you do," she said. "You check it out every chance you get."

He snorted. "You complaining?"

"Not really, no."

He nuzzled her shoulder in the same spot he'd kissed. "Olivia—"

Something about his tone made her nervous, and she pulled away. "Are you hungry? I'm starving. I didn't have supper last night."

"Me neither," he said. He rolled out of bed and waved her back down. "Stay here. I'll go find us something."

She blinked. "I don't mind—"

"I know." He leaned over her and braced his hands on either side of her head. "Just let me do something nice for you, okay? Because I want to."

Her mouth curved, just a little. "Okay," she said.

He kissed her, lingering over it, but when she reached up to pull him back down he stepped away. "Food," he said. "I'll be back."

"I'll be here," she said.

With a quick, charming grin over his shoulder, he disappeared into the hall. She laughed a little and stretched. They hadn't had sex last night. There hadn't been anything more than some light petting and kissing. A lot of kissing.

So why did she feel as good as if she'd had about five super-intense orgasms? Well. Maybe not quite that good, because there was still a lot of leftover hot-guy-in-my-bed-who's-touching-me-but-not-making-me-come tension. She sighed and turned onto her stomach. Curled her arms around her pillow and bit her lip around a stupid happy smile.

She could smell something cooking. Bacon, maybe? Jesus he was making bacon. He hadn't even gotten laid and he was making her breakfast in bed. Though of course he had every reason to think he would get laid, especially if he brought her breakfast in bed.

She rolled her eyes and wondered what it was like to not question the motives of everyone around you. It must be nice.

The sound of a ringing phone brought her head up off the pillow. It wasn't Sophie's phone. It was her emergency line. Like three people had that number, and none of them would be calling it unless something serious was going down.

She hauled herself out of bed and pulled her underwear drawer out. Flipped it over and freed the phone from its tape. Chibs. Why would Chibs be calling her at eight on a Tuesday morning?

"Gable," she said.

"One hour. Point B."

"What—"

"Can you be there?"

She bit her lip and went to the window. Peeked out through the curtains and took a long look at the quiet street. What was with this James Bond shit? "Yeah. I'll be there."

"Good." There was a brief hesitation. Then, "Get rid of this phone."

"Get rid—?" But she knew he was gone. She stared down at the phone with a frown of consternation. Rendezvous points? What the fuck?

She heard the sound of dishes rattling in the hall. Moving fast, she yanked the battery from the back of the phone and tucked the SIM card into the waist of her panties. The door behind her opened, and she already had the phone's shell back in the drawer and the drawer halfway into the dresser.

"What's up?" Juice said.

She spun toward him with a smile. "Sorry. I'm such an idiot. I forgot I'm actually opening today, and if I'm late it'll look bad after last night, not to mention Gemma might scalp me."

"Oh," he said. He looked down at the breakfast tray in his arms. "No time to eat?"

"No, babe. Sorry." She dressed quickly, grabbed a slice of toast and a few pieces of bacon, and dropped a kiss on his cheek. "See you tonight?"

"Yeah," he said. "Hey, wait."

"Hm?"

He smiled and set the tray aside. Hooked his fingers in her belt loops and pulled her against him. "I want a real kiss."

"Demanding," she said.

"Yup," he said as he lowered his mouth to hers. "I really the fuck am."

stop the cuteness 2k15.