A/N: WE'RE HALF WAY THROUGH. I may actually believe I'll make it to 50 haha. I wanted to do something different, so I hope you like this. Please let me know because I'm a nervous wreck about this one. Thank you for all your reviews and support, and without further talking …

Prompt #25: Sex. - It was good. No, it was earth-shattering.

Word count: 3,243

She never knew there was such a thing as too much sex, until she got into bed with him.

Sex has always been a weird subject to her, since she's been introduced to the world fairly early on. It shames her to admit that in her early years she often used it as a tool to get what she wanted. But she's come to enjoy it later on in her life, realizing it could indeed bring pleasure if you were engaging in it with the right person and in the right way.

But what she was not prepared for, apparently, was Jay Halstead.

At least that's what she keeps telling herself as she waits for her doctor to come back with the results, of what Erin already figured out is a very painful UTI.

"There could be a variety of reasons for this infection," the doctor tells her. She asks a couple of personal questions, taking notes. "Any sexual activity in the past couple of days?"

"Uhm, yes."

"How much?"

"3 or 4 times," she admits, recalling last night.

"Per week?" Now that makes Erin blush fiercely.

"Per night." Now she has it, for not being able to keep her hands off of him since this thing between them started that night.

"That's your likely reason then." She explains all about how the bacteria spreads. "I advise against sex for the duration of the antibiotics. When your symptoms disappear completely, and you are off antibiotics, you're in the clear. You don't want to get a second infection. You'll get a prescription when the culture comes back, so we know what kind of bacteria you have."

"Okay."

"Meanwhile I suggest lots of fluids. A heat pad to ease the pain."

She nods knowingly, but it's not that she ever had one before, so she isn't really prepared for the discomfort, or the shame that overwhelms her when she even thinks about it. So, she packs up on cranberry juice and analgesics, ditching all the calls from the unit, and Jay in particular. She shoots out a text to Hank that a medical situation came up, and she'd be back to work tomorrow, because she just can't interrogate a suspect with a painful bladder. Hopefully she'll be feeling better soon.

Then she curls up on her couch with a gallon of water, knowing she'd be making frequent trips to the bathroom.

She's dodging his calls and his texts. It takes him by surprise, because the last couple of nights have been going ridiculously well, and he has no idea what has changed. Just last night he spent a night at her place, and they watched a movie, or well half of it, before she distracted him with her hands, which ended up with them in bed.

He is beginning to get worried that he somehow managed to fuck things up, and not to make a big deal out of it, but he is freaking out just a little bit.

Can we talk? -J

The happiness of finally being able to be together is replaced by worry. He was certain she felt the same way. He held her in his arms, and he was so sure they were on the same page regarding this, and now he has to face the reality that maybe they were not; that maybe it wasn't mutual.

And Jay does not like this feeling at all.

She should have known he'd show up, even though she's avoided every single call and text. It was something so embarrassing and personal that she couldn't let herself share, not even with her partner of a couple years. Not when they've just recently gotten together.

But he's there, looking all worried, and she does feel bad for him. And he looks damn cute when he's worried too.

"What's going on?" He glances at her pjs, and her messed up hair, and he figures she's been in bed for the better part of the afternoon. "Are you sick?"

"In a way," she admits partially, and he pushes his way into her apartment.

"Talk to me, Erin."

"I can't, Jay. Not about this. It's too personal."

"Bullshit. What's going on?"

She mumbles something incomprehensible that has him asking to repeat it.

"I have a UTI," she replies, clearly this time, but obviously mortified.

"Just assume I'm clueless about it and explain it to me," he asks, allowing her to settle on the couch.

"It's an infection women can get." She keeps it vague, but knows she'll have to get it out eventually, as he doesn't show any sign of leaving until she does. "It can be caused by a lot of things. One of them being too much sex apparently."

"Oh." He seems lost for words, and she gets it. This, whatever it is, between them just got very real very fast. He looks a little smug, and that is something she wasn't expecting, so she mock punches his shoulder.

"You're gloating!"

"You just told me I sexed you up so much you got an UTI. Can't help but be a little proud."

"Ugh!" The next hit he gets isn't mocking anymore, and he winces in pain. She really does have a good swing going for her. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry." He chuckles, and his shoulders relax when she smiles back, obviously realizing his joke was only meant to ease the awkwardness of the situation. "And really I am sorry you're in pain because of this. It's not exactly a consequence a guy goes for, when having sex with someone, trust me. But I still don't understand why you thought you couldn't tell me."

"It's just embarrassing." The same reason you don't send the guy you occasionally slip into bed with for tampons (no matter how good those slips into bed are).

"But you don't have to be embarrassed about it. Especially because I'm part of the reason you're like this."

"I know. I'm a lousy patient. Can we just write it up to that?"

"Sure." He smiles down at her. "Something to do with your childhood?"

"Let's just say, Bunny usually made me feel guilty for being sick, because she had to stay home, so somebody taking care of me is still a weird concept."

He nods. "Do you need to go to the doctor? Need me to get you any medication?"

"I've already been, so no. Just hold on a second, cause I really have to go to the bathroom."

He nods, letting her stand up, shooting a quick text out.

When she comes back, he's gone, and her face falls pretty fast. She really can't understand why he'd say one thing and do another, but she goes to curl up on the couch, not expecting him to be back in ten minutes. But he is, and he's holding pizza (which he knows to be her comfort food) and cranberry juice.

"You didn't have to do this."

"Yes, I did. Consider it an apology for giving you a UTI." She wants to jump in, saying that he technically didn't give it to her, because it's not an STD, but she shuts up noticing another detail.

"How did you know about the cranberry juice?" She just notices the bottle he's placed on the counter.

"I asked my brother."

"What? You told your brother, who I've never met, that I have a UTI?" She looks pretty upset, and he doesn't want to upset her anymore.

"He's a doctor."

"Unbelievable. That'll be a great first impression," she mutters, sulking all of the sudden. "So what else did he say?"

"Cranberry juice and lots of cuddles." She gives him a look—the one with raised eyebrows and all—until he amends his former statement. "Okay that last part was me. I just can't take you being in any kind of pain," he admits, nuzzling into her neck. "I just need you to know this isn't some friends-with-benefits thing for me. It's more."

She nods, cuddling closer. "Yes, it is." They put it out there for the first time since that talk they had in the break room when they thought she was leaving for six months. And it's funny, because these moments in relationships, when something shifts and it becomes more serious or fades away usually scare the shit out of her, and she tends to avoid them like plague, but now, the words Yes, it is slip from her tongue willingly, not at all forcibly.

She realizes that she doesn't mind, because she's known this is more than just sex from the moment it happened, and even though the sex is great—earth-shattering, mind-blowing really, it's not all it is. Erin is actually half convinced that the sex is as great as it is, because they share a deeper connection.

"And there are so many other things we can do, even if we can't have sex. I can take care of you. I'm reportedly very good at it."

"Says who?"

"My ex-girlfriends."

"Cocky much?" She asks, still sulking.

"We can talk. Maybe play 20 questions. Or Scrabble."

"Stop! Playing Scrabble with you is what got me in this mess. Besides it's not fair, because it's making me want you and I can't have you."

"I know. I'm irresistible."

"You're mostly cocky."

"You still want me, cocky and all," he teases, causing her to roll her eyes back.

"Yes. I can't explain it, but for some reason I do." She knows very well it's just a part of his charm, and she's not really upset at him for messing around. It's already a weird situation, and she doesn't want it to be weirder. "You start."

It takes him a second to realize she means the questions. "Okay. Does it hurt?"

"A bit. I took a mild painkiller. It's mostly annoying and uncomfortable." He stands when it's her turn, walking to the kitchen, bringing back a fresh glass of water and a heating pad. She whimpers when it touches her lower stomach because of how good it feels. He drags the cover over her, and finds a comfortable position on the couch next to her.

"Who taught you to drive?" She asks curiously. "Because those stops are horrendous."

"My dad did."

She frowns at that. "I thought you didn't get along."

"We don't. He taught both of us with Will—not that he was patient or anything, though Will was apparently a natural at it, and I was the disappointment." She gathers that this is how is always used to be with them, and wonders how it's possible that he remained so kind and so wonderful, bearing no resentments towards his brother, who was obviously the favourite.

"Does it bother you that I drive all the time?" She asks softly, curious about his answer.

"It's my turn." His eyes flicker to her hands. "What colour nail polish do you like wearing most?"

The question takes her by surprise, and she shows it by raising her eyebrows. He chuckles, pointing at her blue fingernails. "It's a part of you. I want to know."

She shrugs. "Dark red. It was the first nail polish I ever owned. Camille got me one. It wasn't exactly on my list of priorities when we had no food on the table." He frowns, thinking about all the things she didn't have that others take for granted. "My turn again. Does it bother you that I drive all the time?"

It seems as if it genuinely concerns her.

"It used to. But not anymore." It would be nice if she let him take the wheel once in a while, but he doesn't complain about it further, and she takes the answer. "Where did you get this scar? I was meaning to ask you about it for some time now." He strokes his finger over a spot on her neck, just under her left ear.

"Bunny was high. She pushed me, I fell and hit the coffee table." She doesn't tell him she needed three stitches. That the glass coffee table shattered from the force with which she hit it.

"Sorry. If I ask something you don't want to answer, feel free to refuse."

"It's fine. You know most of it anyway."

She has shared most of it because she had to, but also because she wanted it. When the whole Charlie thing happened a few months ago, her partner was supportive and not too intrusive. But he made sure she knew he had her back, and after he dropped by one time and they watched sitcom re-runs on tv with Nadia, who fell asleep on the couch, she told him most of what her life was like back then.

He has seen her file anyway. Knowing he knew about the charges back then made her more ashamed than she thought possible. Especially, because it's been years since her past has come to haunt her, and Jay finding her CI file that day took her by surprise. He took it like a champ too, back when she spilled it. Listened carefully, but didn't make that judging face she half expected him to make. It was a reaction worthy of the man she knows he is.

And really, every time she doubts him, he ends up coming through, so maybe one of these days she'll just learn to really trust him. Especially because he keeps giving her reasons to. Like the fact she falls asleep sometime after bathroom break #3 and question #8 and wakes up in her bed, tucked in nicely with all the lights off at some point in the middle of the night. She happy to feel his body next to hers, his steady breaths lulling her right back, so she curls up against him wondering what she ever did right to deserve a boyfriend like Jay Halstead.

He doesn't really mention her situation again, clearly knowing that it's more than mortifying for her. But his care shows in the little things, like how he covers for her at work, so she can slip to the bathroom more often without everyone wondering what she's up to, or how he keeps extra bottles of water in the car, or how he doesn't let her drink too much coffee, because he googled it, and it's bad for her right now.

The truth is, Erin never had a boyfriend like that—that wasn't only for making those lonely nights less unbearable, but actually stayed when things got tough sometimes. That was there for the not-so-glamorous moments of her life. She never got this routine, so it shakes the ground beneath her slightly. What shakes her ever further is how much he knows her. So much, he gives her space without even asking, without her having to tell him.

And that is why she shows up at his place unannounced with a giant pizza and without regrets. Whether they wanted it or not, their relationship just got slammed on the ground. It seems to her they both passed this test with flying colours and deserved to celebrate.

His grin when he opens the door is totally worth it, and the pizza she places on the counter in the kitchen is momentarily forgotten as their lips slam together for a long overdue kiss. He deepens it lazily, and lacking the urgency their lips usually meet with, he slowly slips his tongue into her mouth.

The small sound she lets out makes him grin into her mouth even further, pulling away to be able to truly appreciate her smiling face and his favourite dimples.

"This is a nice surprise," he starts, pointing to the pizza and then to her body, still wrapped into his arms.

"I appreciate you giving me some space this past couple of days. And I also appreciate you taking care of me, even though I might now always show it. And thank you for not making this awkward situation any worse."

He traces her skin, making his way along the perfect cheekbone, then cupping her face with both hands. She smells like spring, hope, comfort—warm and cosy under his fingertips and he wouldn't have it any other way.

"You're welcome." He accepts her declaration quickly, knowing it must've cost her quite some pride to get those words out. Their eyes lock together, and he finds himself longing, craving to touch her. It's only been two weeks. What kind of monster did she create?

Judging by the mischievous smile she shoots at him, she's having identical thoughts, and his hands reach for her before she can say or do anything. She groans at the feeling of his fingers stroking her in all the right places.

"Can we? I mean?"

"All good," she confirms, and finds herself pressed against the nearest wall with his tongue in her mouth. His hands find her bottom, lifting her up, and she responds by wrapping her legs tightly around him, pressing the centre of her body against his growing erection. Now it's his turn to groan.

His bedroom is not far from the kitchen, but in this instance, it's not close enough. Neither is the couch for that matter, and the next horizontal surface he finds just happens to be the kitchen counter.

It's a shame, really, but she doesn't even take the time to appreciate the blue Henley, instead pulling it over his head so she can appreciate the muscles underneath, but really, they don't really appreciate much of each other this time. It's more of a frenzied blur of need and desire and hurry and clothes being removed by awkwardly tugging at them until they come off.

She slides a hand down between them and closes it around him. "Fuck, Erin." She smiles at the helpless gasp he lets out, applying more pressure. Jay grits his teeth, dropping his head against her warm skin, as he throbs in her grip. A low, raspy chuckle escapes her. She just really wants him inside her. Now. Even thinking about it gets her panties soaked.

Her moans turn into hums of approval, when he pulls off the only piece of fabric that's still separating them and pushes inside her—hot, wet and waiting for him. Her head falls back as he pulls her closer to him, sliding her butt forward on the counter so he can go deeper.

And then it's just a mindless race towards that brink and a reckless plunge over it as her body shakes in waves of pleasure, and her moan is enough to push him over as well. He buries his head into the crook of her neck and doesn't move until she brings him back to this world slowly, with gentle strokes on his lower back.

The words get stuck in her throat, everything she wants to say too sappy, too cheesy, too real to utter out loud. So she cracks a grin, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek. "Almost worth the UTI, huh?"

He chuckles, as expected, and they both shrug it off, especially when he recovers a few minutes later, carrying her naked warm body to the bed, where he can pay it the attention it deserves.

But they both know something has changed. This was a step forward in their relationship, and she finds herself looking forward to all that are yet to come. After all, relationships take effort, and she just found a guy who is more than worth it.

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