A/N: I would set this sometime after season 1, because it was winter then, so that is the only thing that makes sense.
Prompt #28: Break Room - If the walls could talk…
Word count: 1,947
"Don't stay too late," Voight tells her, when it's five in the afternoon and she is still slouched over paperwork. The case has been tough, and the weather has been tougher lately. It's only five, but it's already dark outside. It's been snowing a little all day long, and they're calling for more snow later on.
"Promise," she replies, and he ruffles her hair with affection before heading downstairs. The bullpen is quiet, and there are only few of them left. She suspects Jay is also trying to catch up on paperwork. He has this cute little frown when he gets focused, and she has been staring at it for the past half an hour, forgetting all about work.
When Ruzek and Atwater head out an hour later, it leaves just the two of them, with the warning from the guys to head home before they get snowed in, because apparently the Chicago sky is laying it on very thick outside already.
She doesn't even mean to stay so long. She keeps telling herself, just one more file, and when she looks up, she sees Jay's still frowning, and the darkness outside has set completely. Jay looks up now, and glances at the time. She knows they're screwed the second she sees his expression, after he leaps to the window and looks outside.
"Shit. There is no way we're going anywhere tonight."
"What?" She joins him at the window, gasping at how much snow there is outside, and at how much is still falling. Fair enough, it has been snowing a little all day since morning, but it must have gotten worse while they were buried in files, because he's right. There is a real snow blizzard outside. And neither of their cars are equipped for those kind of extreme weather conditions.
"Just perfect." And she had been looking forward to a weekend off, catching up on sleep and maybe some reading. And now she's stuck here. With Jay.
With nobody but Jay.
Well there are other people downstairs, probably also stuck here, waiting for the snow to calm down before they head home, and other civilians who have come to the police station to weather this out, but they're alone in the bullpen. And with the growing tension between them lately, she thinks it can't be too good.
"Who are you texting?" He asks, probably realizing the same thing she just has.
"Hank. Letting him know we're stuck. He said to stay put and wait it out. It's chaos out there. Two major pile-ups already. I better text Nadia too."
"You know this could take a while? I mean they'll probably get the streets clean till morning, but still. We're gonna have to spend the night here."
"I guess I could think of a worse company to be snowed in with," she says with a wink. "I'm gonna get us some food from the vending machine. Do you want anything in particular?"
"Cheetos."
She grins, because she shouldn't even have asked. During their partnership, she has long ago discovered his affinity for the finger-colouring snack. When she returns, he meets her with a smile, and some blankets.
"These should come in handy."
"What, no pillows?"
"I was told I make an excellent pillow," he teases with a cheeky smile, which causes her to roll her eyes and shake her head with disbelief. If somebody was looking at them from the outside, they'd think she's annoyed, but he knows better, and true to that, soon enough the dimples appear on her cheeks.
"Toss a coin for the couch?"
"We can share. We're adult people, with no attraction for each other whatsoever, right?" He asks, trying to keep a straight face.
She bursts out laughing, and he joins her right after. Now that they've addressed the elephant in the room, it's easier to plop down on the couch, drag the table to the edge of it and pile their snack collection on it.
"I'll make some coffee," he offers, and she nods in reply.
Watching him move, Erin gets lost in thought. The guy knows his way around the kitchen. And he looks good doing it. For a moment, she can almost envision him making coffee in different circumstances. In the morning, before they leave for work together. Only she would be able to hug him from behind and press a kiss on his shoulder blade in her fantasy, like she has been dying to.
Jay setting a steaming cup on the table makes her jump out of her thoughts. "Thanks," she murmurs. "It's still wild out there. I don't know how I'm gonna get my car from under that pile of snow on top of it."
"That's a tomorrow problem."
"Do we have a today problem?"
As if on cue, the power goes off. The darkness around her makes her blink several times for her eyes to get accustomed. "Great," she mutters under her breath.
"You just had to say that, right? Don't worry, the generator should kick in soon."
But it doesn't.
"The desk sergeant said the generator only covers emergency areas, like the holding cells and the entrance area. Everything non-essential is in blackout," she explains after returning from downstairs. "And since it's chaos on the streets it's chaos down there."
"Glad to know we're unessential here."
"Yeah. Thank god at least the door works." The door which is powered by electricity. It makes her think about how they would work in such circumstances, and she makes a mental note to advise Hank to get their own generator up here. "Guess we're lucky to have those blankets."
Two hours later, Erin would kill for a generator. Of any kind, but preferably heat. The dark she doesn't mind so much, but the cold creeping in from the outside is murderous, and the two blankets wrapped around her aren't doing much anymore.
"Not that I'm coming on to you or anything, but you do know I'm warm right? And your teeth are rattling."
She needs no further invitation, pressing herself against him in a position she doesn't even care is wrong. All she cares about is getting warm. The rumble of his chuckle vibrates against her skin, and she buries her face into his chest in shame. But his arms are around her, and he is so warm that her teeth actually stop making that annoying noise, so she just decides not to care that the way in which their bodies are touching is too intimate for their definition of partners.
"Do you ever think about what it would be like? If there were no rules and regulations?" She asks, when she settles her head on his chest like she's been doing it for years, and he drapes a blanket over them. The question comes out of nowhere, surprising even Erin, since she is usually the last one to bring up this awkward situation of their pent-up feelings.
If he's surprised by her question he does not show it, or at least not in a way she is able to see. "Sure. You?"
"Yeah," she admits.
"In a perfect life, I'm thinking two kids and a dog."
She knows they're joking around, but she still gasps. "I'm not having two kids!" She exclaims, desperately trying to think of a way to sneak her hands under his shirt to press them against his warm skin. How is he so hot? Literally and metaphorically, she wonders. "How about one and a dog?" She settles. "And I'm not living in the suburbs. That is where I draw the line."
"Deal, I'll just convince you about the second one when we get that far."
She looks at him, realizing the absurdity of their conversation and laughs. "Sunday dinners with Hank?"
He cringes, not wanting to talk about the one person keeping him from doing what he wants to do most, which is kiss her until the world ends. "I'll sacrifice myself, because wait until you meet my dad."
"What's he like?" Jay almost never talks about his family, but when he does it's about his brother, Will—the surgeon, or his mom, who passed away.
He thinks for a minute. "Cranky. Bitter. Mean."
"It's funny how you're none of these things."
"I can be cranky," he admits.
"Before coffee," she finishes for him, and they lock eyes, both always surprised by finishing each other's sentences side of their partnership. "But you're not bitter. And you're certainly not mean. You must get that from your mom."
"She was …" his words trail off as he gets lost in memories. "She was the kindest woman. She loved with all of her heart, and got hurt for it many times. She loved taking care of people. It was her favourite thing. Sometimes I feel that she deserved better than us. But she never complained. Not even in the end."
"I think you're a lot like her," she murmurs, thinking about how much that description fits him. "You take care of people, too." You take care of me, is what she really wants to say, but it gets stuck in her throat. Judging by the sudden silence, he is aware of the hidden meaning behind her words.
Neither of them knows what to say, but he presses a soft kiss on the top of her head, despite knowing it falls under crossing the line of professional.
"Hey, I think the power is back on," she says, feeling the blast of heat coming from somewhere.
"That's great."
But neither of them moves to turn on the light, or to change their positions. Both of them are perfectly comfortable right where they are, as they slowly drift to sleep, dreaming of a world without rules and regulations keeping them apart.
It's only because of Jay sleeping with one eye open all the time that Voight doesn't catch them in this compromising position. So when the team gets there, with their sergeant leading the way, they're folding blankets and drinking fresh coffee. Their late-night conversation remains a secret they take with them, after Hank takes one look at them, and sends them home to shower and rest.
It's a secret that lingers in the car between them, as he drops her off at her apartment, because her car is boxed in the snow and she couldn't get it out. As fate would have it, the way from the precinct to her place takes a lot longer than normally, because the roads are still not in the best condition.
He stops in front of her building, getting her as close to the entrance as he can. "Here we are."
"Yeah." The longing between them—usually kept under a wrap—is more than present on this cold winter morning. "I'd invite you upstairs, but—I don't think it would be a good idea." After last night, she needs space to put up her walls and convince herself of all the reasons why they can't be. At least not yet.
If he came upstairs, she's not sure they could keep their hands off of each other.
His hand moves from the steering wheel to hover over hers, before letting his fingers wrap around hers. "I know."
Right before she exits the car, leaving the thing she wants most behind, he murmurs something, perhaps half hoping she won't hear.
"Someday it will be one day."
Maybe he said it to her, or maybe he said it to reassure himself. Whichever may it be, it is that sentence that puts a smile on her face as she walks towards her apartment. Because someday it will be one day.
And she can't wait.
