The boxes of donuts and pizza sit mostly eaten. His treat this time and now the traditional (and delicious) end to a closed case. The room still echoes with the good-natured ribbing of sneaking more slices- Van Pelt shocking the table by reaching for a fourth helping of cheesy coated comfort food. The honey dip dispute between Cho and Rigsbywas another definite highlight.
Today being Friday, the team had made quick work of the takeout...and their going home excuses. The promise of 48 hrs of department-free duties was energizing after a hard case has effectively snapped the tension of numerous late nights investigating.
Any observant person could see the rising blush in Van Pelt's cheeks, the way Rigsby's discarded suit jacket seemed to sweep him just a little bit closer to the pretty redhead. Cho was a little harder but, if he was reading the nuances of the senior agent correctly (and he was rarely wrong), the man had plans with a nearby gun range- his own special brand of unwinding.
All remained animated...except her. He's watched the gradual slouch of her shoulders and the slow blink of her eyes. In the fading footfalls of their colleagues, he takes the opportunity to observe her.
She's languid, her voice slow as she wishes them a good night, fatigue clear in her movement and tone. Every gesture is sluggish but she's innately stubborn, shrugging the growing exhaustion aside with almost vice-like determination She doesn't realize what a sham the front is. Especially with him.
And now they are blissfiully alone. He pats the space next to him on the couch welcomingly. "Come."
"I'm not tired."
He gives his trademark smirk. "Of course not," he appeases as her arms wind defensively against her middle. "But I'm getting a rather uncomfortable crick in my neck looking up at you from this angle. Maybe you'll reconsider for the sake of my well-being?"
He expects her to rebound with a prickly barb, most likely referring to his clocked hours on said sofa, but she surprises him by shuffling closer. She drops with a gusty sigh, her knees knocking lightly against his.
Her fingers brush absently at an eyelid, almost against her will. She's half gone already.
Angling herself slightly he can now see her heavy-lidded gaze.
It's amazing how right it feels- being this close to her. Close enough to smell the orange blossom of her shampoo, the dab of perfume behind her ear. He's become addicted to sharing her space.
It's only been a week since their partnership shifted into something much more. How did they manage to dance around what they have...what they had even at the beginning...for so long?
Without effort, she's encouraged the affectionate, tender side in him, long-buried behind years of regret and hurt. In the last seven days, he's instigated more casual touches than he ever thought possible- a palm at her lower back, a soft squeeze of her shoulder, a quick kiss on her cheek. All giving him a heady kind of pleasure, magnified by the appreciative smiles and sudden flushes of the woman he's bestowed them on.
"Long case," he offers and she responds with a hum.
He moves on instinct, bringing his arm to the back of the couch, his fingerpads grazing the shoulder of her dress shirt. He drags a knuckle up and down her forearm.
"Jaaaaaaane."
The warning loses all of its bite when her back meets the sofa's, effectively pillowing his bicep with the nape of her neck. "Yes, my dear?"
He chuckles lowly at the shiver and breathy sigh the unexpected endearment causes. Pet names are even newer.
But oh she is stubborn. With a grouchy huff, she attempts to stiffen in the loose embrace.
"You're not helping."
"Hmmm. With what love?" His hypnotic fingers begin to trace small circles just above her elbow.
"You...you know with what." He can tell the ticklishly soft contact is making it hard for her to focus and his heart dips with in response. She is completely adorable when exhausted and obstinant.
"Jaaaane. Just...just stop."
Her lukewarm request is muttered while her body folds into his side, his hand an encouraging warmth at her back. His own chest expands when he can feel the rise and fall of her breath against him.
"You're going to make me..." her words are swallowed by a rather impressive yawn which she valiantly tries to hide behind a palm. It falls to his ribs in short order and he brings her even closer. "fall asleep."
"But you aren't sleepy," he murmurs. He deliberately keeps his tone lazy and slow. A cadence a parent would use when soothing a restless child.
"Right." The response is drawn out as her lids sink closed. "Not... sleepy."
It's his turn to hum as all fight leaves her, making her slump against him fully. He waits a few moments before chancing a kiss to the crown of her head.
"Sweet dreams Teresa."