A/N: John and Aaron get some air and a little Christmas treat. Emotions run high between John and Joss once they get back home. This one's kind of lengthy, so I hope you have a little time on your hands for it all (but then, when aren't my chaps long as heck, haha?). As usual, thank you for reading and enjoying the journey thus far. Sorry for any typos.
"Waaa' too...waa'toom, dah-deeee...umuhh myyy..."
Aaron softly cried and spoke to his father, while John, completely in love with his son—but steadfast—shook his head in understanding and gentle refusal.
"No, baby," he said softly, a knowing, pensive smile on his face. "It's too hot for you to have some. I'm sorry."
Aaron's sad eyes widened, while fat tears, which threatened to spill, filled them. He went quieter at his daddy's pronouncement that the hot chocolate he'd bought for himself wasn't fit for him to share. It was indeed too hot—almost too hot for John to drink. A little cold milk had done wonders, but it was still not fit for Aaron to have any.
While he seemed, on the surface, to take the bad news in stride, having a look around the small delicastessen that served as one of their unofficial neighborhood hangouts, Aaron was only taking a breather. After a few seconds of observation and hair pulling, he began to get fussy again—whining here, sighing there, pleading here—until his daddy, broken hearted by his little boy's distress relented on the hot chocolate, to a point. Too hot for the baby to have a little from the cup, John had another idea.
"Ali, my friend," he called, in good spirits, "could I have half a dozen of your cake doughnuts?"
Ali, the owner, and oddly enough, a former number of Team Machine's, gladly found six freshly made doughnuts for him in the bakery case, and wrapped them up in tissue paper before brown bagging them. Walking them over to the table from behind the counter, he smiled at Aaron, and noticed the little guy's face.
John made a point of pulling out his wallet, so as to pay for the doughnuts and the hot chocolate. As usual, Ali refused whatever John's payment was for any food received. John would insist, Ali wouldn't hear of it. However, John always found ways to sneak money underneath the counters, so that Ali would be sure to get it. It was a dance they'd done many times over the intervening months.
Ali, in turn, would take the money and donate it to the local food pantry, along with a few donations of his own. All in all, it was a most interesting process.
"Oh, mawlud," he said, softly. "What is the matter?"
"A case of wanting whatever Daddy has to eat or drink, I'm afraid, even if he doesn't really like it all that much. Cocoa is not one of those things, however," John said, smirking and nodding in the direction of the hot chocolate. "Happens quite a bit, actually."
Ali laughed. "Yes, I know that one. My two little daughters, they are the same. I can eat nothing on my own at home! But if I make them plates of their own, they don't want them. Kids, eh?"
John laughed in kind. "Yes. They often don't make a lot of sense, do they?"
"I suppose they make sense to themselves, my friend," Ali replied. "Here are your doughnuts. Eh, would you like a little more milk for the chocolate, too?"
"Yes, that would be good, thanks," John replied.
"Coming right up." To Aaron, "it's okay, mawlud. Today is a happy day. Christmas, no?"
Aaron stopped his fussing for just a moment to acknowledge Ali. The deli owner was a portly older man with grey hair and sun-kissed skin, much like Aaron's. He had left his native Syria decades earlier, and had been in the delicatessen business for many years before a gang of well-dressed thugs tried to shake him down out of his life's work—and a certain Man in the Suit and his bespectacled partner put a stop to it. It hadn't made him rich; however, he had managed to have a very good life in Queens, raising two children to adulthood, and two others younger still, with his wife Malia.
Aaron continued to stare while blowing a spit bubble here and there, and making propeller noises with his bow mouth and chubby cheeks. He was observant to a fault, just like his detective mother and vigilante-soldier father, and the deli owner never failed to catch his gaze whenever he and his father went for a visit.
However, his attention span was still that of a near-fourteen-month-old baby, and accordingly, his sights were then caught on the blinking neon sign outside the deli that signaled to any and all stragglers on this Christmas Day that the Corner Store Delicatessen was open for business. He made a gesture towards it while looking back at Daddy for acknowlegement of the sign's existence.
"So, my friend," Ali said, "other than the joys and pains of fatherhood, how are you? It has been a few months since you've come in with the little one. Are you finding things well?"
"Yes, everything's great," John answered, with a pensive smile. It was the truth. In fact, not since the incident at Montauk Beach where he learned in that harrowing way that Joss was carrying their third child had anything really been amiss in his life. Nothing could be better—even with the headahces and challenges of parenting and expectant fatherhood.
"Ah, you seem...happy, my friend. At peace. At long last. So, does this really mean no more living the life of the guardian angel?"
"No, my friend. No, time for that anymore. Joss and the kids need me. Especially now that our family is growing even bigger. A man does not have nine lives to spare when his family needs him."
Ali brightened. "Yes. Yes, this is true. You are to be blessed with another child very soon, no?"
John smiled and nodded his head in confirmation, in that proud and satisfied way that a man does when discussing his future offspring with another man who is also a father.
"Ah, how wonderful for you. And you, mawlud!" Ali said, referrring to Aaron again.
John leaned in slowly then, gravely, his gaze fixed on Ali.
"And how are you? I haven't heard of any issues on the street concerning the Maldano crime syndicate that would give you anymore trouble. But of course, I've been out of the loop a little bit. Has anyone tried to contact you that we didn't clamp down on before? Any unorthodox communications? We dampened their energy, but we didn't put them completely out of business."
Ali sighed and shook his head. "No, John, thank Allah. I have had no problems since you intervened on my behalf. Forever grateful to you and your associates for all of your help. Without you, my family and I might be dead. Certainly, I would have been out of my livelihood here."
"You're a good man, Ali. You and your family deserve peace and happiness. I was just glad to be able to help."
"You, too, are a good man, John. I knew it even before we spoke officially, before you came to tell me of what you and your associates knew of my situation. It was Allah's will."
"Well," John said. "I'm not sure of that, but I thank you for the sentiment."
"Perhaps it is also Allah's will that you take this time for your family? A greater purpose in store?"
John reached down to pull up a bib from Aaron's carriage to fasten around his neck in anticipation of the mess to come. "Perhaps that's so, Ali. Perhaps. I do know that I'm happy. Happier than I've been in a long time."
"I'll get you the milk, my friend," Ali said with a knowing and affectionate nod.
"Thanks, Ali," John replied.
When John got the refill for his chocolate, he took a little more of it to the sweet brown mixture, turning it a light tan color. He tried it. As he suspected, it was still a little too hot for Aaron, but if Daddy gave him a piece of doughnut dipped in the chocolate, he'd be able to share with him, while still not getting his little tongue and mouth burned.
Taking out a doughnut from the bag while never taking his eyes off Aaron, John grinned as he watched his boy react to what seemed like an even better deal than the hot chocolate. Aaron sat up at attention in his baby carriage, and began to kick his little feet where he sat. He also put out a hand to grasp the doughnut, while pleading his case for such a yummy snack.
"Meee aaahh...uuummmuh...yaaa...daaaah-dee...dah, dah..."
"Okay, okay, son. I know. Just hang on a second. Let Daddy have a taste first," he said.
Breaking the treat in half, John dipped one piece in the hot chocolate, careful to do so on the side that still had whipped cream, took a small test bite, and proceeded to put the rest to his boy's mouth, upon finding it sound. He could hardly give it to him fast enough before Aaron's little fists opened and grabbed the pastry out of his hand. John laughed more. No one could ever say his boy didn't eat good.
Bear, who was a hearty dog, waited patiently outside, leash tied to the front pole. There was little to no wind then, so his remaining outside, acting as their sentry, wasn't so big a problem. They would go soon as it was-though Bear loved being outside-so his exposure to the elements would be curtailed.
Aaron happily nibbled on the doughnut dipped in hot chocolate. In his joy, he extended his arm and hand, in a gesture of sharing more with Daddy. While the doughnut had seen better days before Aaron had gotten said hand on it, John gladly obliged him, dipping his mouth down and taking just another tiny bite of the food his son fed him.
"Mmmm, thank you. So yummy!" he said. At that point, John found his phone and decided to roll the vid camera on Aaron while he ate. Tormenting him with it when he was older was an absolute certainty.
"Aaron, over here. Yum, yum, yuummm! Say hi, Aaron!"
Aaron continued nibbling on the doughnut and looked up at his father, before breaking out into a happy squeal and bounce in his carriage. He took a big bite, losing some of it to the floor, earnestly rolling and chewing the cake with deliberate purpose, as best he could. His teething drool mixed in with the sweet treat made a mess of his chubby cheeks. Thank goodness for baby bibs, his father thought.
John, while still filming, grabbed the diaper bag from the handle of the stroller, deciding that he needed a little something more nutitious for his son's snack besides doughnuts. Rustling through a number of small and tasty portions Joss had packed before they headed out on their walk, he found the baby bowl of homemade apple sauce and spoon, along with containers of strained baby peas and mashed sweet potatoes, cut chicken nugget pieces, and Aaron's sippy cup of water.
"Oooh, lookit, Aaron. See what Mommy sent you! Nom, nom, nom. Oh, you're lucky. Yes, sir! You've got your chicken nuggets and your favorite, sweet potatoes. You know, I wish Mommy had made me a lunch like this. Hmm, maybe you can share with your old man?" John asked, while managing to get in a few kisses and nuzzles while Aaron wiggled and tapped atop the carriage tray.
"Aboozzz..mmmm," Aaron replied, his curiosity now piqued by the containers Daddy was pulling out with one hand.
John grinned. "Okay, son. It's all yours."
John soon switched off the video on his phone and got Aaron's meal ready. He had been able to get hold of a plastic platter from Ali, which would make serving a little easier, though Ali had apologized for not having any available high chairs. John was fine though, considering the many times he had fed Aaron while watching the news or football on TV. He'd certainly make do there.
It was also necessary to pull Aaron out of the stroller, so as to feed him on John's lap, from the table. The snowsuit and sweater would also have to come off.
Aaron had no problems switching gears on snack, which had actually turned into his lunch time. He loved his finger food nugget pieces just the same, and was even cool with Daddy feeding him apple sauce with the spoon, instead of trying to do it himself. He was only partially keen on the peas, but he ate his fill of them before turning his nose away for any more. He indeed loved sweet potatoes.
When Aaron was finished, John got out the wipes to clean his hands and face.
"You full now, son? Yeah? That should hold you until we get to Grandma's for supper." He made a few googly faces at him—which surely made Aaron giggle—before leaning down once again to run his fingers through his hair and plant yet another little kiss on his lips. Aaron had to be the most kissed baby in the world at that point.
Aaron cooed at Daddy, while once again exploring the deli and focusing on no one thing in particular for very long. He then returned his attention to his sippy cup of water.
"Thirsty, son? Here. Here's your water," John said.
John watched his son while he sat back against his daddy's belly and sucked down his water. He sighed. It would be time for them to head back home soon. Hopefully, Joss had been able to rest a while before they all made their way to Corinne's for Christmas dinner. The fact that there would be one less place to set for the table recast the pall over the occasion for John. The memory of the brief yet terse exchange between himself and Paul Carter made the pall even heavier.
Having had the walk with Aaron and Bear helped to clear his mind a little as they passed tree lined Brooklyn streets, practically deserted on that holiday morning. As Bear tottered along, John pushed the carriage through the park, and then, the basketball court he and Taylor practiced their game year-round on and where they had only just done so but a few days before, cold weather be damned.
Of course, he knew that he wasn't Taylor's biological father. Taylor knew that John wasn't his biological father. But the fact of the matter was, they had a bond, a very close bond. All of them, with Joss being the center of that, the connector that held all of them together. He was a part of her, her first-born child; he was a part of Aaron as his older brother. And he was a part of John, too, as the child of the woman he loved more than life itself. And it was more than likely because of the fierce love she had for both of them, for all of them, that made the relationship between Taylor and John so special.
They were family. Whether or not there was a genetic connection, they were family. Taylor was like a son to him, and he would do anything for him, just as he would Aaron and their impending little girl. And Taylor knew that John loved him, and he John in kind—which is why he went out of his way to keep his father from having anything to do with his "Pop." He didn't want to be caught in the middle of that. He didn't want John to be hurt for joining up with him and his mom; didn't want his mother to have to answer for that, to be punished for moving on with someone else after so long. But of course, all that happened. He just hoped to God that Taylor was all right, and would still manage to have a good few days with his dad, despite what had taken place in their living room.
But it wasn't in John's nature to let that kind of thing slide. From that point on, he had bones to pick with Paul Carter. Himself, he didn't care about. But Joss and the kids? Dealbreaker. And unlike Paul, he would do his best to be respectful of Taylor, while making sure that his lady and his children were protected.
That conversation wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
But still, something gnawed at him, something that he and Joss hadn't much discussed, but that, with Paul in the picture, hung over the wonderful life that had just now began to hit its stride.
His thoughts returned to Joss. They would have to talk. Air needed clearing. On Christmas of all days, yes. But it had to be. It wasn't something he looked forward to, however.
John returned his attention to Aaron, who had found his binky on top of the carriage bar and was now contentedly sucking away on it, having discarded the sippy cup. He shook his head and sighed again, while the deli door opened and a patron came through. Up to that point, it had only been John and Aaron in the establishment, the Christmas holiday making business slow, even in multifaith Brooklyn. It was just about that time to go and get Bear out of the cold. The little guy also hadn't had his nap, and that would be a necessity if he was to be in any shape for Corinne's later that afternoon.
"Hasn't been too bad a Christmas, though, has it, son? I mean, you got your trike and your football, and you got doughnuts. And Grandma has some special treats for you too. Speaking of which, we better get going. Naptime, honey," he said, gently tickling his chin and giving him a nuzzle before getting his hat and other winter items ready for their departure.
Aaron gave his daddy a slow, big binky smile just before breaking out into a double sneeze. The goo from his nose bubbled out, and John growled and made another face at him as he wiped the goo away.
"Grrrrrr...my son, the snot factory. You just gotta love it. And I do. I do love it," he said, in his best Mr. Magoo impression. Then, more googly eyes and silly Daddy voices to make Aaron laugh, which only failed sometimes.
##
Once it was all put to rights, John packed the remaining treats, got Aaron dressed, and cleared off their table before shaking hands with and waving goodbye to Ali. He wheeled Aaron out of the deli. Bear, upon seeing them both, stood and wagged his tail furiously while John got him unhooked from the pole only to hook his leash to the carriage.
Before departure, however, John's phone rang. It was Joss.
"Hey," he answered.
"Hey," she replied. "Where are you guys?"
"We're just on our way out of the deli, heading back home. You okay? The baby okay?"
"Yeah, yeah. We're fine. I was just wondering where you were. Aaron being a good boy?"
"Always. He just had some lunch from the bag, and a doughnut. He's golden."
"A doughnut?" she asked, grinning. "Oh, I bet he is. I can hear him being all hyper right now."
"No, he's okay. Mellow."
"John?"
"Mm hmm?"
"I'm sorry."
"What do you have to be sorry about, babe?"
"About...not knowing how to pick 'em."
John closed his eyes, remembering the little jab he threw at her in light of Paul's boorishness.
"John? You still there?"
"Yeah. Well, I shouldn't have said that. I mean, if you hadn't picked him, we wouldn't have Taylor—and I wouldn't trade him for anything in this world."
"He is a great kid."
"That's because of you, sweetie."
"Thanks. Are you guys on your way?"
"Yeah. Aaron's gotta get his nap, Bear's getting frosty paw, so we'll be home in a little bit."
"Great," she replied, a tone of relief in her voice. "I'll see you then."
"Joss?"
"Yes, John?"
"I love you. Merry Christmas."
"You too, baby. I love you, too. Merry Christmas, John."
"We'll see you soon, okay? Aaron sure misses his mommy."
She hesitated for a moment, and if John didn't know any better, he'd have thought he heard the choke of a sob.
"Joss?"
"I miss him, too. And you. And Taylor. Hurry home, John."
##
When they got home, Bear scampered back to his corner near the fireplace, the warm bedding John left for him most welcome after the cool temps of outside. There were also a few doggie treats left for him, which he was also happy to get, and he settled himself in while partaking of his own snack.
Aaron, as his father suspected he would, began to get drowsy as they walked the eight blocks back to the brownstone. John's first order of business upon getting home was to get Aaron out of the carriage so he could be promptly put down upstairs for his nap. If he snapped out of it, it could be hard to get him back to sleep—and that would be a nightmare at Grandma's house.
Before he could get Aaron upstairs to put him down for his nap, however, Joss appeared, slowly walking out of the kitchen towards him. Her eyes were warm and wet, her face a quiet jumble of emotions.
"Hi," he said first, quietly. "We're home."
"Yeah. Yeah, you are."
He stood there, holding Aaron, rooted to his spot at the door. In his jeans and peacoat, he'd forgotten to wear his warm hat, and his salt-and-pepper hair was plastered loosely about his head. His nose had turned red, as had his cheeks, and he had the appearance of someone much younger, almost like a rather handsome Santa's helper. Aaron wasn't asleep at this point, but he was well on his way. However, upon hearing Joss' voice, his head popped up from John's shoulder and he waved slowly at her.
"Maaahh-meee," he said.
"Hi, baby" she said, a shy smile on her face, her voice unsteady as she walked over closer to them. "Did you have a good time with Daddy? I know you were a good boy. You're always my sweet, good boy. I'm so glad to see you."
"Yes, he was wonderful. Joss? Are you sure you're okay?"
Aaron in his sleepiness, and still in his snowsuit, reached out to take hold of his mother's shoulder, essentially transferring himself from his father's arms to hers. He sighed then, and snuggled up in the crook of her neck, rest now his for the taking.
And then, it all tumbled away. Joss' face crumbled into sadness, a sadness John hadn't much seen with her before, save for the odd pregnant mood swing. He had a feeling it was more than that, this time. And his own heart crumbled in tenderness and love in the face of it.
"Come here, baby," she brokenly sobbed while taking hold of Aaron. "That's it, baby. Come to Mommy..."
"Oh, sweetie." John responsed swiftly, catching both of them in his arms. Joss let it go then, let herself go, and as John's arms enfolded her and Aaron, she cried louder, clutching both her son and her man as carefully as she could.
"Oh, sweetie," he repeated over and over, now stroking her hair. "It's okay. Everything's okay. I'm here now. I'm here."
"John..."
"Yes, it's all right. I love you, Jocelyn. I love you. I love you so much."
He concluded his declaration with a kiss to her forehead, then her cheeks, and finally, her lips, the warm kisses mingling with fat, salty tears.
And he continued to kiss and hold his lady and their son, while their daughter gently kicked in Joss' belly.
The feel of her kicking was enough to garner a smile, a momentary respite from the turmoil she was feeling.
"Our little girl is awake, just as her brother is falling asleep," he grinned. "I guess I better get used to that."
Joss sniffed and grinned in kind. But the conflict from earlier on continued to wear on her heart.
"I don't why or how he can still get to me, John," Joss said, between quieter, yet still audible sobs. "After all these years, and all the effort to be civil for Taylor's sake, I just don't know why that ass can still have the power to make me doubt myself and the choices I've made. The main choice being getting rid of him in divorce was right. I know that. He didn't know how to be a good husband after a while. But he is Taylor's father, and I kept that relationship strained for so long because of our issues. Maybe that wasn't right? I don't know. I never know. Oh, God..."
It tore at John's heart to hear her beat herself up this way. That feeling was only just slightly surpassed by the lethal violence he was feeling towards Paul Carter.
But that thing that gnawed at him, that played on his mind showed itself then, with Joss' confession. And the conversation he'd been dreading was creating an avenue for intrusion.
"Listen, Joss. Listen to me," he said, looking dead square into her eyes. "I know the kind of woman you are. I know you better than anyone. And I'm telling you, there is no greater woman on this earth. Do you hear me? Paul Carter is a damned fool. His foolishness is my gain. He knows it. But he also knows he can get to you still, by hitting your vulnerable spots. But then-"
He stopped himself and became suddenly subdued.
"But then what, John? What?"
"Nothing. It's nothing. Not important."
"No, John, what is it?" she pressed. Aaron sighed again, and she held him closer.
He took a deep breath before answering, and for a second, wouldn't look at her directly.
"It's just that—my question is, why are those spots still so vulnerable?"
"What do you mean, John?" she asked, tears still falling from her eyes.
"I mean, me. Aaron. The fact that what we have is not 'traditional' in any sense, as much as we try—and succeed, I think—in giving him and Taylor the most stable and loved lives possible. The fact that, , in reality, to the rest of the world, save for our friends who understand, I'm a dead man. And that if I weren't I could be in a cage in any number of hell holes in any number of foreign countries. Hell, even as bullshit as it sounds, the fact that I'm white. The ladies in your church aren't the only ones who stare at us and our sons, and wonder what the hell is going on. It's everywhere, even in a city like New York. That's what I mean."
Joss froze, the blood in her veins seemingly stopping its run. More tears fell, as she couldn't believe what she thought she was hearing.
"John...really? Are you saying...you feel paranoid? About us?"
John hastily pulled off his leather peacoat and threw it on the bannister. Returning to the issue at hand, he spread his hands in a gesture of mild despair .
"Joss, no. No, I'm not. I'm—I just—"
"Just what, John?" she pressed further, not sure she really wanted to hear his response, but needing to hear it all the same.
"I just...I just wonder if sometimes...you're not paranoid about me. At least outside this house."
She stared at him for long seconds, an expression of defiant terror on her face, before wordlessly turning towards the stairwell with Aaron, who was still clad in his snowsuit, but was fully, blissfully asleep. It was probably for the best, as it looked as if his parents were about to have an argument that he really didn't need to be witness to.
"Joss?" he called after her. "Joss, wait!"
"I need to put our boy down in his bed for nap," she said, while not stopping, her voice unsteady. John hastily followed behind her.
"Joss, come on. Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"
She continued on, until she had Aaron on their bed to get his snowsuit off. She was careful to do so gently, so as not to wake him, even while her vision was blurred and hot tears fell on the zipper. When he was free, he wiggled in his sleep and stretched his hands over his head before he was still again. She got him to his crib and covered him with his blanket with a kiss, all the while silent in the face of John. He, in turn, followed her, determined to not let this drop, now that it had been raised.
"Joss, talk to me. Dammit, tell me how you're feeling," he implored.
"Why, John? All the time I've known you, I've had to pry shit out of you like I was pulling teeth. What you were feeling; how you and Finch got your information for those cases we worked on; who the woman was in your past that had made all the difference for you and how you lived your life. You never volunteered any of that. Remember? I had to find out on my own, until we got closer and you decided to let me in more. But by that point, I'd figured out at least some of that the way a good detective can. I still don't know how you and Finch got your information though...at least not exactly, anyway."
That last part she said quietly, her head turning away abruptly before he could, at last, betray himself. He wasn't in that life now, so it didn't matter. No, it didn't matter anymore.
"I had thought those days were long over. That if you had a problem with me or something you needed to get off your chest, we could be open about it, since we're raising children together now. But I guess I was wrong. And it what it sounds like to me is that it is you being paranoid," she replied, while brushing past him.
"Joss, that's not true, and you know it. I trust you completely. See, I knew getting into this would be a bad idea. But we're here now, and..." John protested, as quietly as he could while the baby rested.
"Well, John, you know, I'm sorry if I make you feel like I don't care about you when we're out in public, if that's what you think. Or that I still have some lingering feelings of anything other than contempt for Paul. He is a source of great stress, but it's not about you, baby. Paul's crap is his own doing, and he's been doing it for years. It does affect me and Taylor. I'm sorry, but it does. But then, I suppose I'm just not as good at keeping people at bay from my feelings the way you are. So much more inconvenient, much messier to let that get in the way. Yeah, you sure can pick 'em, too, huh?"
"Joss, don't..."
"I don't have any problem with you, John!" she stated emphatically, imploringly, but as quietly as that would allow, in consideration of a sleeping Aaron. "I love you. You are the man I have been looking for my entire life. Did I think you'd come in the package that you do? Hell no! But that's the funny thing about life—and what makes it all worthwhile. I love everything about you, John, even the shit that drives me nuts. But if you're a fool who wants to doubt my feelings, or to think that I'm somehow ashamed of you, then maybe you and Paul have a lot more in common than I thought."
Her words were thrown at him to wound him, and they worked. She wanted to wound someone. She wanted to wound Paul. But in some ways, that didn't even make sense, since Paul Carter was just being the way he'd been after the first few years of their marriage, and ever more so after his discharge from the military. She had been strong enough to confront and divorce him, but now? Now, he could push her buttons. It really made no sense.
It was the baby. All those mood swings and hormone fluctuations and weird cravings were coming to bear all at that moment. She'd had her weepy spells. She'd had her swollen ankles. She'd had all of it. When she was pregnant with Aaron, it was all about being ready for a nap at the drop of a hat. Fetuses had a way of making the most routine headaches larger than life. Paul was a routine headache. All the same—still a big headache.
"Okay. I deserved that," he sighed, his hands spread in a gesture of helplessnes. "I'm sorry. Look, tell me what to do. Tell me, sweetheart. Tell me how to make it better, and I will. Or spend the rest of my life trying to figure it out. Please."
She stopped at the break in his own voice, and suddenly, her anger at him was all gone, dissolved and drawn away like a retreating wave at the shore.
His face was ashen. The wetness she remembered from so many close encounters with the innocent dead at the hands of perps caught too late; from the stolen joys of expectant fatherhood when she was carrying Aaron; the birth and its aftermath, when he was able to rock his baby boy to sleep in his earliest weeks.
She let go of a sigh, while more tears fell from her eyes. "Just...just hold me, John Reese. I'm just...he does, you know. He does...get to me. Pushes those buttons, still. But it's...not because of you. It's me. I'm still trying to shake off..."
"Shake off, what, Joss?"
"That sense of...failure. I failed. I failed myself. I failed my baby. Taylor deserved better than what he got in our marriage. He did. He does. And I ruined that. Paul and I both did. But I did it more. I did it more..."
John could stand no more of her recriminations. He gently, wordlessly rushed over to her side to pull her up from the bed to do as she'd bade him. To hold her. To hold her and stroke her hair and back, to press her full belly against his body. To make it all better.
"Shhhh...shhh..." he whispered. "Quit it. Come on, quit it now...I'm not gonna let you do this to yourself, sweetheart. He's done it enough. And it stops. It stops right here."
"John..." She crumbled again, in his arms, allowing his strength to hold her up, as he willed her.
"I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it. And yeah, I do know how to pick 'em, baby. Because I been waiting for you all my life, too. And I held out, kept my heart close to me—until I met you. And until I got you. The best thing that's ever happened to me."
"Oh, John," she breathed, shaking.
Their eyes met in the languid space of love. She reached up to stroke his cheek, which he caught in his hand to kiss, much like the night HR nearly destroyed them both. He closed his eyes against the warmth of her soft skin, and held it there, until he replaced her hand with her own lips. He then placed her hand on his heart, the blood pumping strong and sure through the navy blue pullover, his chest rising and falling against her.
"You got my heart, Joss. Probably from the day I first saw you through that precinct window, you've had my heart. Even if I didn't know it at the time. Even if I did everything I could to run away from you then."
She smiled. "You didn't run all that far."
"Well, no, I didn't. Perhaps I wanted you to catch me. There was just a city to see about first. Maybe I wanted you to see that I could be a good man, despite everything I'd done."
"John?"
"Mmm hmm?" he hummed while wrapping both arms around her waist and inhaling the scent of her hair.
"Aaron's asleep, and..."
"And?"
"And we have this time, and this space and..."
John smirked at her before dipping his head to cut her off with a kiss. Upon breaking the contact, he touched his forehead to hers, but kept his eyes closed.
"Joss...I know we talked about this before...but are you sure Dr. Tillman says it's okay?"
Joss dipped her lips to catch his again, briefly, before wrapping her arms around his neck. "Yes, John. Our little girl is doing fine, I'm fine, thanks to you, and there's no reason we-"
"Good," he said, "because, honestly, if we start it up, I don't think I could stop..."
"Then, don't, John. Don't stop."
They caught one another's lips once more, but this time the kiss they shared was fraught with an urgency like that of two people starved for food. John's tongue slid into Joss' mouth, and with a whimper, she answered with her own, until the two lovers found themselves caught up in the maelstrom of desire that had been held at bay for months.
It wasn't long before John destroyed his own flannel shirt in pulling it off her body, while she in turn pulled and wrestled him out of his pullover and shirt, baring his naked torso to her gaze. She feverishly ran her hands across his chest, his belly, and his shoulders, the need to touch his skin suddenly so strong, she could barely contain herself. John, in turn, lifted his hands and found the curve of her maternity bra, the full and luscious breasts straining against the fabric, the nipples and areaolas clearly visible. His fingertips found them with a groan, and his eyes were suddenly hot fire, appearing drunk with the possibility of promise behind her bra.
"God, you're beautiful," he whispered breathlessly, while moving to palm her full, pregnant belly, only to return to the maternity bra and back to her belly again. He was barely holding on to what little control he had, but he still wouldn't take a chance on rushing when their unborn babe was a factor in the proceedings. However, with her there, in her full splendour, the glow of her body unmistakably female, it was a monumental task to slow it down a little.
"You know, at the risk of killing this mood, I really have to say something," he began, a lilt of playful yet earnest seduction in his now deepened voice.
"Oh?" she replied, as much in response to his fingers weaving magic spells on her skin as to his statement. "What...what did you wanna say?"
"What I said before. That your ex-husband really is damned fool. That he didn't...know how to appreciate what he had in you. A woman with so much fire and beauty, so much strength...so much love. But I do. Everything...I have ever wanted in a woman, a life partner, a lover...a mother for my kids..is embodied in you. Do you hear me, babe? You are indeed what I've been waiting for, too..."
"Oh, John..." she sighed. His fingers and, then again, his lips, continued their magical spells over her face and body. She could feel herself getting hotter and dizzier in love with each nip of his teeth on her throat, each gentle pinch of his fingers through the fabric of her bra, each snake of his tongue through her lips.
"And now, look at you, gorgeous. You've given me the greatest gift a man could ever receive...carrying my babies...bearing me children...my children. My seed. Not his...mine...mine...ours. Our babies together...in love. And I am so fortunate to have had the privilege...and pleasure...of making you pregnant..."
"Yes...yes, John...you are my babies' father...the best I could ask for...strong and loving...I'd never had that before..." his words had the effect he had been looking for. She could barely slow her own need to possess him as her man, as her lover, and her hands began to roam from his chest to his belt buckle. Unfastening it and the button of his jeans, she found his erection rock solid, thick and ready.
A sharp intake of breath and a deep groan escaped him before he clenched his teeth and shut his eyes at the sensation too long denied him. The simplest touch of her fingers could set him off. She would never be unable to arouse him.
John continued after recovering from her action. He opened his eyes, and while they were clouded over in deepest need and desire, he was frank with her. "And when I say my children, Joss, I mean Taylor, too. He's my son. Because he's your son...he's mine. I'm his father. Biology...doesn't matter. Love does. And I love him...I love him very much...as I love you, sweetie. I love you..."
Joss stared at him for a long time, marveling at this handsome, sexy man who stood before her and made such a declaration in honor of her first-born child. This man she'd spent months chasing for the law, through murder investigations, bank jobs, knee-capped perps, now stood before her pledging his love and loyalty to a child that he hadn't created.
A fresh round of tears sprung into her eyes, and the look of gratitude she displayed nearly knocked John off balance. It was Joss, however, who quickly put it back on track.
"Make love to me, John. Right now."
Wordlessly, John grasped her head in both hands and landed a firm, hard kiss on her mouth before taking her hand and leading her back to their bed. The covers and blankets were still pulled back from her nap, and he gently lowered her down before removing her bra, leggings and socks. Still clad in her panties, John extended his foreplay by massaging her body, paying particular attention to her breasts and belly, the sensitive nipples swollen and strained against her mocha skin. She moaned as his hands contrasted with the dark of her skin. Pulling at her panties, he lowered them just enough to see the small thatch of hair just underneath the swell, and the visible stretch marks that trailed from her mound just midway up her belly. With his forefinger, he traced them before leaving a kiss on each one.
After several minutes of close and loving attention, it was time. John needed to be even closer to her, to join his body with hers. His jeans, socks and boxers came off, and he shuddered with the realization that this was about the happen, the first time they had made love since he'd returned home in the summer, unaware that he wouldn't be returning to the field, that he was to be blessed a third time in fatherhood. Could it be like the first time they'd joined as one, he wondered. That first time, so long ago now, after HR and Simmons and Quinn, all the vindication for the city he had come to love, and the woman along with it?
No. No, this would be better. A recommitment to themselves, a renewal. It would be the lovemaking of reconnection. In the flurry of birthdays and doctor appointments and basketball games and college scoutings and fevers and bottles and dirty diapers and sleepless nights up with miserable infants and toys on the living room floor they had lost a little ground. It happened to the best of couples. And on that Christmas Day, they would make up for that lost ground. Their little boy lay safely and soundly in his bed. Bear kept watch at the window downstairs. They would find one another again, through love and passion. They would rest—and then find one another once more.
John sank into the bed next to her, finding her lips once more before climbing to the other side of her.
"Turn. Turn over on your belly, babe."
Joss complied. She knew what was next and after having waited so long, she knew what her body was feeling, knew that, she was well and truly ready for him to take her.
Her panties were gently pulled down, and with each tug, John positioned himself to kiss her bottom here, there, everywhere.
Joss claspsed a hand under her belly. The touch of the bed fabric against her tender nipples sent ripples of need through her body.
"Ohhh, John, please..." she begged. Her eyes were wild with pleading, glassy from her previous tears. Her lips, parted sweetly, drew John like a moth to a flame, and he reared up to kiss her, deeply plunging his tongue into her mouth with a groan.
Finding her ready to take him, he positioned himself behind her and slowly found home. His thrusts were gentle, steady, a build up to climax that he didn't always take time for on their first go, so eager he'd be to have her. But this was a time for steady and sure, sweet and gentle.
Their breaths mingled in unison, their endearments filling the air with beauty. He could feel her tighten around him, could feel the sweet wetness that he'd missed, and he fought his own animal nature like a warrior, not wanting to come so soon after those blissfully hot strokes inside her. This love was for the both of them, for their daughter too. He would savor them both. He would savor their time.
They loved and teased and played with one another for hours, even as the winter daylight rode into darkness, even as they could hear their son next door awaken from his nap to play with his toys and sing to himself. He would be fine for a little while on his own, they reckoned. They still needed their time. And they had it. Lord knows they had it.
##
After a few hours in one another's arms, John and Joss rose to visit the bathroom and to get Aaron. They didn't practice modesty then, both of them going to him in to him in their nudity. He was in need of a change, and at that point, in need of a bath again. His happiness at seeing his parents was only rivaled by theirs in seeing him.
John went to the dresser to pull out a new set of baby clothes, socks and a diaper for him, as well as his lotion and diaper ointment. The diaper he wore was soiled, so off it came on the changing table, while John wiped him clean enough to get him ready for the bath tub. For a few blissful moments, while Joss went in to run the bathwater, Aaron got to toddle around in the nursery out of his diaper and other clothing, as naked as his daddy was.
Since it was nearly time to head over to Corrine's for Christmas evening dinner, Joss decided to place a call to her mother as well, explaining that they'd all be a little late, but they were sure to be there as soon as possible.
"I heard what happened today from Taylor. Good thing John was there. That damn Paul," she hissed. She had never approved of Paul Carter, which, at that time in her life, only seemed to make Joss want him more. Her mother never blamed her for her choices, only Paul for being a less than stellar example. She was grateful for that.
"Yeah, Mom. Can we—can we just have Christmas? I don't want to talk about Paul. Maybe after the holidays are all over. But today is about us, about family. Can we just do that?"
"That's fine, baby. You all just get here when you do. Dinner will be ready. Merry Christmas, Jocelyn."
"Merry Christmas, Mom. See you soon. And thanks."
Joss ran the bath water in the large tub. The plan was for all three of them to bathe together. With a little manuvering, and giving Joss the chance to get in the tub first, it was perfectly doable. Aaron was quite keen to splash in the water. It was all good.
After the phone call and tub fill, Joss joined her family in the bath. They bathed and rinsed. They laughed. They blew bubbles at each other, and they gently scrubbed their baby while he found climbing on Mommy's belly an interesting challenge. Kisses were never in short supply for any of them.
It was indeed Christmas Day. Although it had had its tense moments, it was a true Christmas. For both John and Joss had received a gift that more precious than diamond bracelets or any other material thing. They had been given the gift of each other. And tafter everything that had taken place since he'd come home that August, hat gift was rare—priceless, even—for sure.
A/N: See? Super long, haha. But I wanted to let John and Joss have a little time to just remove from one another for a little while, to sort of let his first real encounter with Paul settle in, as well as to show his (rare though they may be) his misgivings about how he fits into the whole scenario. Not saying he was being rational about it all, but since all the family connections he's had have had to do with Joss' relationships (save for Aaron, but including Paul), it's been an adjustment for him. And Joss will have to get over her guilt about her marriage not working out for Taylor's benefit. In the years since she began to feel this cloud of guilt, John has stepped up and stepped in, and Taylor doesn't resent her, loves her to bits, as he does John.
After their reconnection, she's begun that journey, but it will take some time to undue years of negative thinking. Lots of things to cover—and since Christmas tends to lend it self to family drama, why not here, haha?
John reassures her. He lets her know where his heart is and how grateful he is for her. I loved writing that part. Something rather primal about it all, as he stakes his claim to her children, including Taylor. Paul stands no chance.
I also enjoyed writing the beginning. Just John and Aaron chillin' at the deli. I also thought throwing a nod back to John's role in the community with the Ali convo, albeit under the table, was important—especially since trouble still lurks in that community.
Well! In any case, I hope you all didn't lose your eyesight taking this one on,. Soon, we'll move into the new year, and the countdown to baby girl Reese's birth. After that? Not sure. We'll see!
Thanks—and as usual, stay tuned!