~28~


Title: Landslide
Rating: strong PG-13 to R.
Warnings: sexual situations; sorry guys…I just couldn't help myself (neither could Sheridan and Luis, lol). Not what I originally had planned for this chapter, but our stubborn hero and heroine wouldn't have it any other way (especially with the way I'm denying them in Anna Begins).
Characters/Pairings: Emma, Gwen, mentions of Ethan, Spencer, Hank, Sheridan/Luis, original places ;)
Summary: prompt: lipstick. "The way I figure it, this first date is over five years in the making."


Sheridan retied the drooping yellow ribbon in Emma's curly hair, pressed a noisy kiss to her little daughter's cheek that effectively transformed the slight pout of her pretty mouth into a giggling smile, and straightened, rubbing at the faint lipstick remnants left behind by her show of affection. "You be good for Gwen, Emma-bug, and have fun with Spencer. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes, Mama," Emma dutifully promised, the pout returning to her pink lips a mere second later as her clever brain caught up with her mouth, and she posed a rather pertinent question in her argument. "Why can't I go with you? You always let me go with you and Hank." Sheridan couldn't rightly refute her daughter's astute observation, and at a loss to explain the complexities of the human heart, in this case the complexities of her differing feelings toward Hank and Luis, she could only emit a helpless, sighing exhalation of her daughter's name. "Emma."

Thankfully, Gwen stepped in and saved the day, or what remained of it. "After the movie, I was thinking we'd stop at Middleton's for sundaes, and then, well, I was thinking, if you and Spencer weren't too tired, we might go for a little late-night swim before bedtime."

Emma's already big blue eyes had widened at the mention of ice cream and gotten progressively (comically) larger, and by the time Gwen had finished saying her piece, her change of heart was complete, and she was rushing upstairs, excitedly, in search of her bathing suit.

Sheridan could only laugh in response. "Thanks," she said, tucking a wayward blond curl behind her ear as she regarded her friend. "I owe you, big time."

Gwen shook her head, waving off Sheridan's expression of gratitude with a smile of her own, one teasing, knowing. "The way I figure it, this first date is over five years in the making. As much as Luis adores Emma, and he adores her plenty, I don't think he planned for your big night to include her. Actually," she amended after a moment's quick reflection, "knowing Luis, he probably did." A throat cleared behind her, and before she turned around, Gwen knew exactly who it was by taking one look at Sheridan's face (soft, adoring, radiant, head over heels in love).

A grin tugged at Luis's lips when he felt Gwen's eyes fall on him, but he only had eyes for Sheridan, saw only her.

Gwen felt herself swoon a little inside. Always handsome, the man was simply breathtaking free from the bonds of self-denial. Belatedly, she realized he was talking, and though his eyes never left Sheridan's beaming face, he was addressing her.

"Did what?" Luis repeated, finally wrenching his awestruck gaze from Sheridan and regarding Gwen with slight amusement when it soon became apparent to him that she was a little dumbstruck.

Shaking her head a little embarrassedly (Sheridan's soft, knowing laugh definitely wasn't helping matters any), Gwen finally rediscovered her powers of speech and ignored his question, calling up to Emma. "Need some help up there, Emma? Ethan and Spencer are waiting for us."

Emma clattered down the stairs some minutes later, joyfully launching herself into Luis's waiting arms at first sight of him.

Sheridan and Gwen wisely gave the pair time for their goodbyes, retreating into the kitchen where they packed Emma's purple swimsuit in her backpack with the rest of her little girl things and stowed away some of her favorite snacks for good measure. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and knowing the intensity of her daughter's fear of storms, Sheridan retraced her steps to the foyer, Emma's backpack slung over one slender, bare shoulder, expecting to find Emma attempting to sway Luis with her considerable tools of persuasion (those eyes, that pout), convince him to let her stay, tag along, but that wasn't what she found at all, and she turned just slightly when she felt Gwen's hand rest gently against her arm, just above her elbow. "I don't...she's not…Gwen. What do you think is going on?"

"I think," Gwen grinned in response, "Miss Emma's asking Luis what his intentions are toward her mother." Smart girl, good girl. Squeezing Sheridan's arm, she warmly reassured her, "Relax. That little girl of yours is not going to let a little thing like Mother Nature stand in the way of her fondest wish coming true." A little of the confusion clouding Sheridan's blue eyes cleared, and Gwen softened with affection when the reality of the moment finally struck Sheridan. "She'll be fine. I got this, Sheridan. I do," she insisted, gently propelling Sheridan forward as Luis relinquished Emma from his arms and the child looked over at them both, held out her hand for Gwen. "I'll even pick up Lucy, take her home with us for the night," she promised as she ushered Emma out the door, before she had a change of heart, lost her stubborn (so Sheridan-like) nerve.

When they had gone, when Sheridan and Luis found themselves alone, they could only stare at each other, words stolen from them, words too small for them, until Luis found some, gifted them to Sheridan, and made the first hint of moisture appear in her blue, blue eyes. "You're beautiful, Crane. That dress is fantastic."

Her lips twitched, and she fought against her warring emotions. A smile threatened, heart on her sleeve, wide open, breathless, giddy, but tears of disbelief brimmed, and Sheridan knuckled them away, laughed shakily. "You clean up pretty good yourself, Supercop."

A deep rumble of thunder sounded, closer than before, and Luis reluctantly tore his gaze away from her, glanced down at the watch on his wrist, smiled ruefully when the first raindrops started to fall outside (plop…plop…plop, plop*plop*plop). Then the heavens seemed to release in an abrupt torrent, and lightning started to flash in an increasingly impressive pyrotechnic display, and he sheepishly told her, "I didn't check the weather before I made our reservations at Renaldo's. I don't suppose you own some matching rain boots for that dress."

Sheridan suppressed a laugh at his helpless, chagrined expression, strode forward on the stiletto heels that made her already long legs appear to stretch on forever, reached up a hand to loosen the constricting tie at his neck. "I think they would ruin the effect, don't you?"

"Not completely," Luis smirked, settling a hand low on her exposed back, brushing his knuckles up and down the pearls of her spine and delighting in the ill-concealed shiver his actions elicited.

Sheridan used the ends of his tie to draw him closer to her as the lights flickered overhead, and her eyes twinkled at him, one regal brow arched, as she breathed out huskily, just a hair's breath away from his upturned lips, "Kinky." His responding grin made her giggle, and she dropped her head against his shoulder, slid her hands down to settle them over his chest.

Luis's hands moved over her sensitive skin, cupped her shoulders, lightly massaged them, and his mouth hovered over her ear as he apologized to her. "This isn't how I pictured this night going."

"Hmm," Sheridan hummed with pleasure as his hands continued their gentle kneading. "How did you picture it?" Unconsciously, her hand settled over his steadily thudding heart, traced it with her fingertips.

"Well," Luis's quiet, almost whispered words stirred the hair at her temple, "let's see. A private table on a seaside terrace, some of the best Italian around these parts, dancing, maybe a kiss goodnight, maybe two."

"Sounds romantic," Sheridan murmured, leaning back to meet his steady gaze, her blue eyes shining. "Just two kisses, Supercop? Why stop there?"

Luis took her teasing in stride, but his eyes were deadly serious, heated, as he let one of his hands slide around her shoulder, flirt with her enticing cleavage, on its way to her waist to pull her close again. "Because, Crane. If I don't stop at two, I won't stop, simple as that."

"Simple as that?" Sheridan's mouth brushed against his neck with each word she spoke, and she could literally feel the quivering power of his restraint beneath her palms with the unthinking action.

"Simple as that," Luis warned her again, his large hands cupping her hips as he gently, determinedly, pushed her away slightly.

His eyes were intense as they roved her face, catalogued her reactions to him, and Sheridan saw shades of the old Luis standing before her, only the old Luis was the new Luis was the same Luis she'd known all along, fallen in love with along the way, and she felt herself tumbling impossibly further down that precipitous slope. She mercifully decided to inject a little more levity into the conversation, back them up a few steps and onto more solid, familiar ground. "I don't know about the best Italian, but I'm pretty sure there's a brand-new jar of spaghetti sauce in the cupboard." Her effort, thankfully, proved successful.

Luis laughed, full and deep, kissed her forehead, and shed his dinner jacket as he headed for her kitchen.

Shapely legs dangling from the counter, Sheridan watched him cook for her, his sleeves rolled up, the top two buttons of his shirt unbuttoned.

The storm outside continued to roar and rumble, and lightning zigzagged in a sizzle of ozone across the evening sky, finally plunging the house into darkness and forcing them to share their meal by candlelight.

Graceful fingers wound around the stem of her wine glass, Sheridan smiled at Luis as he moved around her kitchen, afterward, putting things away with a familiarity borne of years, recalled another night that seemed so long ago now, laughed with the retelling of it. "Do you remember that night, when you came over, and it looked like a spaghetti bomb had been set off in here?"

Luis's teeth gleamed white in the lazy, wavering glow of the candlelight. "You were a mess, Emma was a mess. It took me hours to clean this place up."

Sheridan laughed softly, but her eyes misted, her throat grew tight with a realization that wasn't new but still had the power to amaze her, each and every day, all over again. "Even when you hated me, you always took care of me, took care of Emma. I don't think I can ever repay you enough, Luis. You don't know how much it meant to me, still means to me," she said sincerely, tears blurring his beloved face as it loomed nearer. Still, she felt him, his solid, heavy presence, absorbed his heat, melted into the safety of his touch when his fingers caught her tears, soothed them away.

"I never hated you, Sheridan," Luis told her, promised her. "The way you made me feel confused me, terrified me, and for the longest time, I tried everything I could to keep you at arms' distance. But nothing worked. Beth didn't work. Taking that job with the F.B.I. didn't work. Lying to myself didn't work."

"Hank didn't work," Sheridan bit her lip as more tears threatened to spill free, streak down her smooth cheeks, as she admitted the part she'd played, reactionary or not, and she felt the familiar guilt start to close ranks on her, claim a little part of her soul again, but Luis pulled her back from that slippery slope, grounded her.

"Hank knew the score, and he loved you anyway. He didn't blame you, Sheridan. He still doesn't. Me, on the other hand…we still have some issues to work through, but we're getting there."

"I'm glad," Sheridan turned into Luis's touch, feathered a barely-there kiss against his palm, parted her legs instinctively as he stepped closer.

"Me too."

They stayed that way for a long while, silent, serious, pondering the what-if's. What if Hank hadn't objected, had hidden himself, had protected himself from the truth? What if he hadn't loved them both enough to let her go, give them another chance at the love staring them in the face? What if…what if?

Luis's dark eyes glittered at Sheridan as her knees pressed into his sides, positively glowed with the truth he could no longer deny (no longer made any effort to), and she shivered involuntarily when one of his big hands drifted down to cover her knee, slid up the smooth, naked skin of her thigh, beneath the crimson skirt of the dress she wore.

"Sheridan," Luis husked, meeting her shimmering gaze head on and dwelling there until Sheridan cleared her throat and laughed somewhat nervously, breathed out his name.

"Luis."

"Sheridan," he repeated, the hand cradling her jaw moving onwards, sliding through her golden hair as he continued to search her eyes.

Sheridan fumbled behind her, nearly sent her half-full wine glass rolling across her kitchen countertop, placed one hand atop the hot hand blazing a lazy, teasing path higher and higher up her thigh, hooked the other one around his waist, grabbed onto his belt as an anchor. "I'm not usually so easy on a first date, Supercop," she whispered shakily, cheekily, before leaning forward and breaching the scant distance between them, kissing him once, twice, daring to kiss him again (the third time was, indeed, the charm).

Luis groaned, slanted his mouth hard over hers, meeting the challenge of her seductive kiss stroke for stroke, his tenuous grasp of control snapping with her unspoken consent. With Herculean effort, he gentled his bruising kiss, covered her hands with his own when they released the clasp and tugged at his belt, pressed his face into her neck, slender and sweet and smelling of perfume, when they carefully (eagerly) eased his zipper down. "Crane," he warned, shuddered when his belt slid free, its metal buckle hitting the tile floor with a clang that made him grip her hands tighter, squeeze desperately, hold on. "Sheridan," he threaded his fingers through hers, reluctantly pulled them away. "We don't have to do this. You don't have to do this."

Sheridan lifted their joined hands, guided them beneath her crimson skirt, placed them high on her thighs, interspersed little kisses around his temple, his earlobe, as she spoke, "I hope you don't mind if we save the dancing for another night, Supercop." Slowly, she drew back, met his fevered eyes, moistened her lips with her tongue. Sheridan smiled at him, scooted closer to the edge of the counter and snaked her confident hands beneath the waistband of his pants, welcomed him in the snug cradle of her thighs. Her blue eyes grew hazy with desire, her breathing uneven with barely controlled anticipation. "I'm asking you not to stop. Simple as that."

Luis surged forward, and suddenly, his hands were everywhere (tracing her throbbing jugular, molding her breasts through the thin, silky material of her dress, shackling her wrists, cupping her there), marking their territory, claiming her in a different way than they had that cold January morning, heavy with tears and desperation borne of the fear of loss. There was desperation, still, tears, yes, but their frenzied efforts were compelled by a latent joy long-simmering beneath the surface.

Sheridan laughed as she shoved his shirt roughly from his shoulders, cried out, smiled big and breathless and brilliant as he slid home, trembled in his arms as she flew apart, clung to him, kissed his brow as he found his own completion in her arms. Then she helped him clean the mess they'd made (red wine dripped from the kitchen counter onto the floor, would later stain her sheets).

The storm had long passed, and lullabies had been sung to Emma (and goodnight said to Lucy) over the phone by the time they finally retired to her bed, upstairs (This is the bed where we're going to make our babies, he'd whispered in her ear, then kissed her until she was boneless, helpless beneath his sure hands). The house hummed with restored electricity, but the soft glow of candlelight illuminated them as they held each other, loved each other sweetly and slowly, basked in the open enjoyment of each other's company.

After, Luis's fingers traced the interconnecting ridges of her delicate spine, dipped teasingly into the welcoming hollow at the small of her back, found the dimple at the curve of her rounded buttock before he blanketed her with his body, sought out her hand with his own, covered it as he rest his head beside hers on their shared pillow. His smile lit his handsome face, echoed in his voice, melted all the way down to his heart as he dropped a kiss onto her shoulder, teased her with his goading words. "If I'd known you were such a cheap date, Crane, I'd asked you out years ago."

Sheridan's sleepy response was a half-hearted elbow to Luis's ribs, and a grumbling, muffled threat, meaningful and concise, filled with understanding humor. "Careful, Supercop."

Luis laughed into her soft, tousled hair, wisely heeded her warning, let sleep and the landslide drag him down.

The next morning, before he picked up Emma and Lucy, Luis stopped at the local jewelry store, picked out a pretty little diamond and slid it into his pants pocket. He didn't ask Sheridan to marry him on their second date, didn't even consider it on their third. Luis carried the ring with him always, for that right moment, that inevitable moment, that he knew would come.


First, mistakes are all mine. If you see something completely distracting, please let me know. Typos are not my friends. ;)

Second, I hope you didn't mind this little smutty departure from the norm. Really, Sheridan was insistent, and when that lady gets an idea in her head...

LOL!

Really, Sheridan thought (and I thought too) that she and Luis needed a night of passion that didn't end in a morning of tears and heartbreak before this story was over, and I couldn't help but indulge her wishes.

Tom, what did you think?

Hope it met your expectations. :)

You, by the way? Best reviewer ever!

Everybody else lurking and reading and holding back on me? What were your thoughts?

Only two chapters left, guys.

I'm getting a little sniffly thinking about it. :(

I am still contemplating writing those spin-off/companion stories that I mentioned earlier in the reviews, though, and they'd offer little sneak peeks into Sheridan and Luis and Emma's lives after this story ends while focusing on other couples in this universe. Nobody's seemed too receptive to the idea yet, though, so I'm still on the fence. We'll see what happens when that day comes. I could definitely be persuaded, but I do have a lot of dangling WIPs that deserve their own (hopefully) happy endings.

Until then...for your Sheridan/Luis fix, check out some of my other stories. The Unforgettable series is chock-full of Sheridan/Luis moments, Anna Begins is building toward their marriage of convenience transforming into something more, Imitation of Life is them at their angsty best, their official first meeting is inevitable in It Happened One Night (even if an update, seemingly, is not, lol), and The Story has twists and turns that I haven't even scratched the surface of yet.

And that's just my Sheridan/Luis-centered stories, lol.

Remember, feedback is love!

Thanks so much for reading!