Title: Love Her Madly
Author: rekkidbraka
Rating: T
Pairings: EJ Barrett/Mike Renko
Category: Romance
Disclaimer: No infringement intended.
Spoilers: None
Summary: Mike takes EJ on a "real" date — at her insistence.
It occurred to E.J. that she and Mike had been moving fast — maybe too fast — in their relationship.
She'd slept with plenty of guys on the first date. But at least there had always been a first date.
She and Mike had never actually gone out on a date. They'd skipped the buildup and gotten straight to the climax, literally and figuratively. She loved Mike; it was weird, but she just did from the minute she met him. Now she wanted to start having... well... a real relationship with him. They knew each other but they didn't.
They had the sex; it was time for the romance.
"You're taking me on a date, Renko," E.J. said, not looking up from her work. "Tonight."
"We're past the dating stage, Barrett," Mike replied, looking only half-awake as he studied the cover of an X-rated film that would be key to the next undercover assignment he and E.J. started. "That happened when you gave me that full-body scrubbing behind the ears the first day I met you."
Mike sighed. They'd be working to bust a porno producer suspected of kidnapping an 18-year-old Navy enlistee, drugging her, filming her and then killing her. Hetty had a personal interest in this case because the victim was so young and she intended that the creep be brought to justice, as she put it, "off the books, Mr. Renko." Vance was backing it, as always. The work he and E.J. did was always off the books but this was black ops stuff. No witnesses. Like it never happened. Hetty's way. Vance's too. Mike raised an eyebrow at an act depicted on the poorly-produced cover. He and E.J. tried a lot of things in bed (and many other places) but... not that. That was disgusting even to him. E.J. was a lot of things and he knew all about her reputation coming up through the NCIS ranks but she had standards. Surprisingly high ones, he'd learned.
He was finding that out now.
"A real date. With flowers and dinner and wine and candles," E.J. went on, undeterred. "I think we'll dance, too. Slow. You better know how to dance."
She wasn't going to bag the date thing, he realized. Also, it hit him that he — no, they — would have to watch this porno. Together. Because the victim was featured in it. The really sick thing was, a lot of their clues would come from this filth. Damn, this was going to be a nightmare. The porn-watching. And, well... this stupid date jazz, too.
"Sounds fun. You have a good time. I'll be three deep into a six pack," Mike muttered.
"Date. Tonight. Dinner. Out," E.J. insisted. She was tired of Mike's snide comments. "It will happen. You will be there. Oh, and guess what? You'll wear a suit. With a tie."
"You don't own me, Barrett," Mike growled.
"PINK tie, Renko," E.J. threatened, snickering as she stole a glance at Mike. "And wash your hair."
"The blindfold suits you, Barrett," Mike teased, leading E.J. into what he'd told her would forever now be "their special place."
"Shut up," E.J. shot back. This putting on the blindfold idea wasn't sitting well with her, no matter how cute Mike thought it was. She felt like an idiot.
"Matches your dress," Mike went on, eyeing the simple, off-white summer dress E.J. wore. He'd thought she would pick something flashy. But no. She looked incredible. The dress softened her. It was a nice change.
"That pink tie?" E.J. hissed, not smiling. "I'm going to feed it to you as an appetizer, you..."
"Maybe next time I'll see how this blindfold fits around your mouth," Mike noted. E.J. blindly took a little swing at him, nearly losing her balance. He grinned, holding her steady.
"Jackass," she hissed. "JERK! You have NO sense of..."
The tirade she'd planned was put on hold when Mike suddenly removed the blindfold.
She gaped at the surroundings, awestruck.
"Is this your idea of a joke, Renko?" E.J. asked when the blindfold fell from her eyes, surveying the horribly tacky Mexican restaurant Mike had chosen for their date.
"No," Mike said defensively. "It was listed under 'Restaurants - Mexican' in the phonebook, not 'Jokes,' Barrett."
"Sometimes I just don't understand you," E.J. said dismissively, tossing back her long, strawberry blonde hair.
"Only sometimes?" Mike asked.
"Believe me, I don't understand THAT, either," E.J. replied, forcing a smile as the waiter, who wore an oversized sombrero, approached to show them to a table.
"I ask you to take me out on a date..." E.J. began.
"Tell me..." Mike corrected, studying the menu. He felt a taco craving coming on. Also a need for mas tequila.
"I ask you to take me out on a date..." E.J. repeated, undaunted.
"TELL me to take you out on a date," Mike insisted, not letting it drop.
"... and you bring me to this..." E.J. frowned, taking in the tacky decor of the hole-in-the-wall restaurant, "... this dive masquerading as a place where people dare to eat. God, I bet the Health Department hasn't checked this rathole out in years! Maybe I should make a call."
"They have the best tacos in town," Mike muttered.
"Tacos. Tacos? Really." E.J. folded her arms over her breasts, determined that Mike wouldn't get a look. He was going to pay for turning their date night into this cheese-fest. "Why didn't we just hit the drive-thru window at Taco Loco and call it a night if you wanted tacos? I wanted romance, OK? I wanted a nice night out with you and here's what you give me — tacos."
With that, she got up and stormed off to the ladies' room. Mike sighed, watching E.J. go.
The waiter appeared with chips, salsa and a bottle of tequila. He plunked down two shot glasses.
"You will have your usual, Senor Mike?"
The waiter knew Mike as a regular. Everyone in the restaurant called him by name.
"Yeah. The No. 11," Mike told the man.
"And for the lady?" the waiter asked.
Mike pointed to an item on the menu. The waiter smiled and nodded.
"Excellent choice, Senor Mike," the waiter said, winking. Mike grinned back knowingly. "You would like us to use the special green salsa?"
"Absolutely," Mike replied, giving E.J. a long look from head to breasts to hips to toe to hips and back to breasts again as she glared at him, making her way back to their table from the ladies' room. That dress did her many favors, he thought.
"How?" E.J. demanded, fuming. "How am I supposed to eat Mexican food in this dress?"
"Very carefully," Mike muttered, crunching into his first taco of the night.
"If one drop of this green sauce gets on my dress, Mike Renko, you'd better have your funeral plans in order."
E.J. carefully took a bite of her dinner. It was the best Mexican food she'd ever tasted and she wasn't even a fan of Mexican food. There wasn't anything heavy about the dish Mike had picked for her — and she'd already given him hell for that, ordering for her. He'd just stared at her like he did when she started ranting. And so, when she realized that yet again she was the one doing all of the talking, she poured herself a shot of tequila and shut the hell up. Probably Mike's plan, she figured, but whatever.
"You like my tie?" Mike asked, wiping his mouth.
"Love the tie," E.J. replied. He was wearing a hot pink tie with a little tie tack. Her dad had liked tie tacks, too. It was a classy touch.
"This suit okay?" Mike continued, leaning back in his chair. He snapped out his arms, straightening the cuffs of his sleeves.
"Love the suit," E.J. said. Now Mike was getting into the spirit of things. He was playing with her. She liked this. Really liked it.
"Love the guy in the suit," she added with a wink.
"That dress isn't too shabby, either, Barrett," Mike said huskily.
E.J. poured them both another shot of tequila, bringing her glass suggestively to her lips as she looked directly at Mike from across the table.
"I'd loan it to you," she teased, taking a sip of tequila, "but I'm afraid I might never see it again."
"Ask me to dance, Renko," E.J. said, her blue eyes twinkling in the candlelight.
Mike sighed heavily. Dancing? Really? Slow dancing? Seriously really?
He looked down at the white tablecloth. When she stared at him like this... she knew he'd do anything she said. He'd been planning to dance with her, anyway. When he worked up the guts to make the move. Once again, her inability to wait for anything had proven lucky for him. She'd forced the issue, so...
"Let's polka, Barrett," Mike joked, rising from his chair. He helped E.J. from hers. They moved to the small, tiled outdoor patio.
Mike gently took E.J. into his arms and they moved slowly to the soft music coming from inside the restaurant. The house mariachi band was now playing a slow Spanish ballad. E.J. rested her head against Mike's shoulder, closing her eyes as she listened to his heartbeat.
"Best. Date. Ever," E.J. said softly, really meaning it. She soaked up the scent of Mike's cologne.
"The night's not over," Mike suggested. Then he pushed back E.J.'s hair, leaning in to plant a tender kiss on her full lips. She relaxed against him, taking a deep breath as his hips swayed with hers. Their usual idea of romance was the one-liner, the back and forth, teasing. But this — being out on a traditional sort of date night — was, while rare for them, surprisingly natural, E.J. thought. She could get used to this.
"You ... are ... amazing," E.J. whispered. "I love you."
She had no problem saying it first because she knew it wasn't easy for him to let down his guard, even with her. But when he was vulnerable, when she had him in her arms, she didn't need to hear the words to know Mike loved her, too. Just the way he breathed her name said it all.
But this night, his breath came hot against her neck. The words were husky in her ear. They sent a shiver through her.
"I love you, too."
"Man... you really are hot, Barrett," Mike said thickly, slurring his words. His green eyes were tinged red from too much tequila.
E.J., who'd matched him shot for shot, propped her chin on her hand as she tried to focus on his face. He wasn't classically handsome. In fact, he wasn't particularly good-looking. But there was just something about Mike that touched her in all the right places. She guessed that whatever it was, it must be like what junkies needed. Mike was her fix; she craved him. When she couldn't have him, the sense of longing gnawed at her. He was her annoying little itch and it felt so amazing, the inevitable scratch.
"Hot?" E.J. asked in a drunken, overly serious way. "That all you got for me, Renko? I'm a hottie?"
"You're my hottie," Mike slurred. "HOT-tie." Then he reached over, jabbed E.J.'s cheek and made a sizzling sound.
The waiter brought them a fresh bottle of tequila.
Later, they couldn't remember the cab ride home, except for the fact that it had been E.J.'s hand working its way around in Mike's pocket, finally finding just enough for the fare and tip. After that little scene, it had been all she could do to help Mike out of the cab and up to the small apartment they shared. He could hardly walk and it wasn't only from all the tequila. He'd tried getting drunkenly amorous in the stairwell but the thought of cops and paramedics finding them half-naked in a painful and compromising position if they fell to the landing below really didn't appeal to E.J.
So after a hastily whispered, somewhat slurred promise — a compromise, actually — into Mike's ear and a wet, heated kiss to seal the deal, E.J. had him right where she wanted him. Inside the apartment.
Exactly how they'd ended up on the floor, neither could remember later on. They did recall, somewhat hazily, that they'd started on the bed.
She'd been on top because... she liked being on top and he knew that. And he liked her being on top. She knew that. The man found ways to get out of work everywhere. Also, he enjoyed letting her dictate the terms. Most of the time. She was his boss, as he loved to remind her, so he had to do what she said. That night, she'd been on top because he'd passed out when they hit the bed. How the hell had she gotten that suit off him so fast, he wondered later. His blindfold? The one he'd teased her with earlier? Came back to haunt him when she'd placed it over his eyes, further disorienting him. But he was so drunk it didn't matter. She was wearing the hot pink tie. He'd noticed that right before she slipped the blindfold on him. The tie tack, though, was carefully placed on the side table.
The rest of the night — and it was a long night — was a dizzy, dark haze of pleasure and pain for Mike. E.J. was drunk, too, but true to form she'd managed to hold it together and maintain enough control for the both of them. This was why they worked. And for E.J., making love to Mike after their date was special. True, it wasn't as romantic as she'd wanted it to be. They'd both messed around and gotten much too hammered for that. But he'd made the sincere effort to prove that he loved her and he'd said the words. She felt a real bond with him when they'd danced. They were both misfits but they fit each other to perfection. In every way.
Still, what they both felt, lying awkwardly on the floor next to their bed as dawn broke, was the soreness of their muscles. Neither had the energy to climb back into the bed. And so, there they lay.
"I know we fell off. But I don't know when," Mike told E.J. as they lay staring at the legs of the table beside the bed. "Might've been when I dared you to prove it wasn't your first rodeo."
"God, this floor needs vacuuming," E.J. moaned, closing her eyes.
It was hard for E.J. to keep her eyes on the sickening acts depicted on the TV screen. She felt nauseous, watching their victim being forced to do the things she was doing in this "film." This kid who'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time, drunk at a bar and kidnapped by this sleazebag when she stumbled out to try finding a cab back to base — her life ended horribly, E.J. thought. This wasn't what sex was supposed to be like. She and Mike had their favorite moves, sure, and they had fun in bed. Sometimes too much fun, maybe. She twisted her neck from side to side. It ached from the previous night's sleeping arrangements. But this stuff happening in the porn film? Wasn't even on their radar.
Suddenly the screen went black. E.J., who'd been forcing herself to do her job and take copious notes on anything that looked like a clue in the movie, looked over at Mike. Just like always, he dominated the remote. And he'd turned off the sex tape.
"Why'd you flip it off?" E.J. asked. "I was getting some pretty good notes there."
Mike closed his eyes, running his hands through his hair as he lay back on the couch.
"I couldn't watch... that ... anymore. What he was doing to her." He sighed. E.J. noticed that he looked exhausted. "It's just so damn sick, y'know? That."
E.J. put her notepad and pen onto the coffee table and stretched herself on top of Mike, snuggling into his body. He held her fast but gently.
"Yeah," she said softly, breathing against his neck. "It is. It's not like... us. When we're together."
"No," Mike whispered. "That's not us."
E.J. noted how serious he looked. This was rare. They were both quiet for a while. Also rare. For E.J., anyway. Mike could be the quiet one. Mainly, to piss her off.
"You're the only guy I've ever let wash my hair. Did I tell you that?" E.J. asked suddenly, glancing up at Mike. He grinned down at her, chuckling. This was cute, how she was trying to change the mood. It had been a hell of a day.
"No kidding," Mike teased. "Man... Aren't I the lucky guy?"
"Hey, that was a big deal," E.J. told him. "I don't just let anyone into my shower."
"Mmmm-hmmm..." Mike grunted in agreement, knowing he must be exceptionally special since E.J. never turned him away from her showers. "So I was thinking if you're not busy Friday night, I should take you out again."
"Again? A second date?" E.J. shifted her body so that she was more face-to-face with Mike. "Careful, Renko, this could turn into a pattern."
"Yeah, looks that way, Barrett," Mike countered. "See, now I'm gonna have to go all romantic on you. Flowers... Candy... Guys dressed like gorillas showing up to sing you stupid telegrams... You created this monster. Nobody to blame but yourself."
"Damn," E.J. said, bringing her lips to Mike's, "Guess I'll just suffer the consequences."
"I want my pink tie back," Mike said huskily.
"You can have it," E.J. answered, her lips caressing Mike's, "when you give me back my dress."
