This little Grownup Christmas story is dedicated to my friend, CMGuysGirl. I borrowed some of her prompts in the You Give Me Fever forum; Erin sleeping with her ex and feeling shitty about it. Dave tries to boost her confidence.
He calls her Beautiful as a term of endearment and Dave saying to Erin, 'I didn't know you were a freak.'
Enjoy!
Erin sat back on the couch, surveying her living room. Classical Christmas music played softly through the surround sound. Candy-filled stockings hung over the fireplace, the 7ft douglas fir sat in the corner, dripping in tinsel and ornaments. Its soft bright lights were the only source of light in the room. It was her first Christmas, post-rehab.
She loved the holiday season, especially when her kids were small. Now, they were all off at college and she was left alone in her big, empty house. She should have let her ex keep the house. She didn't need so much space.
She knew when she started decorating that she would be the only person to see it. Unless her ex-husband dropped by, for his occasional roll in the hay, before he went back to his flavor of the week. She was prepared to tell him 'no. Absolutely not.' The last time was four months ago and it would be the last time Walter Joseph Strauss would touch her.
She had no reason to entertain him. She knew it, but he must've missed the memo. He called her that night. He wanted to make plans with her. How considerate, he wanted to pencil in a meaningless fuck into their schedules. She hung up on him and told him to never call her again.
That didn't make her feel better.
Spending Christmas alone and sober was better than being with people who made her feel shitty. Even the kids had gone their separate ways, with their respective significant (she used the term significant, loosely) others. So she wouldn't see any of them until Spring Break. It was probably for the best, her relationship with them was strained, at best. At worst, it was explosive. Maybe this is what adults did, when their kids moved out? Still, the grown-up Christmas was starting to suck.
Still, she thought the lights and the general sparkle of Christmas decor, would put her in a better mood. Instead, it just made her sad. Spending Christmas Eve alone was harder than she thought.
Standing up, she grabbed the T.V. remote off the coffee table and turned it on, she flipped mindlessly through the channels. Ten minutes later, she was on her feet, flipping the cushions off the couch. Surely she'd hidden something, before she left for rehab. The mini bottles of alcohol were great, they were easy to hide.
She huffed in aggravation, tossing the cushions back onto the couch. Then went into the kitchen, pulling out drawers, she slid her hand underneath them, feeling for the strip of masking tape. Walter cleaned her out, before she got home from the center.
Bastard.
She weighed her options. She could go get a bottle, but what were the chances? Glancing up at the clock, the gas station down the street was open. No. That wasn't an option. She wasn't that weak. That was a lie, she was weak. She slept with her ex-husband at least once a year because he was familiar, she liked being touched, even if it lasted less than one night. She was weak against the temptation for alcohol and worse still, she was weak for a certain subordinate.
It was fine to enjoy sex, it was okay to like attention, but it wasn't okay to use someone to get the sex and attention. That didn't stop her from picking up her phone and dialing his number.
She held the phone against her face like her life depended on it. He answered on the second ring.
Shit. Now she had to talk to him.
"Hey, Beautiful."
"Uh- um…Dave. Hi. What are you doing?" She tried to keep the stress out of her voice.
"I'm-" he stood up and shut his laptop glancing out the window at the pouring snow. "I'm at the office, why?" He pulled on his coat and hurried out of his office, locking the door behind him. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Can you come over?"
"Are you sure?" He hustled down the staircase, heading for the elevator. "You don't sound so okay."
"You didn't answer my question."
"I'm on my way over." He assured her, pressing the button for the elevator.
"I know we've never discussed holidays, but I thought-"
"Erin-" he interrupted her tirade, "I said I'm on my way over. I could use a... well, a more,shall we say..a grown-up Christmas. How about you?"
"Oh…" she cleared her throat, heat crept up her neck. "Thank you. Uh, yes. Me too." She hadn't expected him to say yes so quickly. "Drive carefully-the snow is really coming down."
"I'll go slow," he assured her, stepping out of the elevator and into the parking garage.
What she didn't know was that he'd already planned to spend at least one holiday with her. Last week, when she casually let it slip that her kids weren't coming home for the holiday, he put a plan in motion.
That morning, he loaded his car with everything he needed to create the perfect day. Then, he went to the office, to work on his manuscript and time got away from him.
A box of her favorite chocolates sat on his passenger seat, along with an elaborately wrapped box from Macy's. Grocery bags sat in the trunk, containing all the ingredients for a perfect Christmas Eve dinner. The temperature hovered around 18 degrees, so he didn't worry about keeping the food in the car.
Erin paced the length of her living room, a thin sheen of sweat covered her forehead. She needed a drink. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her racing heart. Dave was on his way, if she left now she wouldn't be back in time to let him inside.
45 minutes later, he pulled up in front of her house, snow covered every single surface of the house. He could barely see the top of her car in the driveway. Shining against the flickering, yellow streetlight. It was as beautiful as it was terrifying, much like the woman who owned the house. He opened his door and carefully stepped out of the car.
The tread of his boots kept him steady as he tramped through the yard, towards the front door. The snow kept falling, doubling its pace. It came up to his shins, soaking the legs of his jeans. He kicked his way towards the lump that looked like her front steps. Until finally, a frozen eternity later, he was able to grab the wooden railing and pull himself onto the porch.
With a shaky, gloved hand; he rang the doorbell.
Erin threw the door open, Dave stood on her porch, the first thing she noticed was they way his snow covered hat drooped off his head.
"David-What are you doing? Are you okay?"
"It's f-freezing, B-babe-" he choked out, his teeth chattering.
"Come inside," she stepped onto the porch and put her arm around his waist to help him in the house. "Come in and get out of those wet clothes," she said, leading them across the threshold. "Here," she unzipped his wet coat and helped him pull it off. Then hung it on the hook beside hers. Her first aid training kicked in, almost immediately. "We need to get these off you." She pulled off his leather driving gloves and his wet hat and put them in the pocket of his coat.
"I-I'm okay," he bit out, his feet were made of lead as he crossed the foyer and into the living room. "It's just-cold."
"It's freezing," She helped him into a chair and started untying his boots. She pulled one off and sat it aside, before slowly pulling off his argyle sock. "Your poor feet," she said, tenderly rubbing her warm hands over his foot to bring back circulation as another violent shiver shot through him. "Once your boots are off, I'll get you some clothes. There's always a stray pair of sweatpants around here…" she prattled on, as she pulled off his boot and sock.
"I'll get you some clothes, build a fire…we can sit on the couch in front of the fireplace." She wasn't sure if he was listening, but taking care of him gave her something else to think about.
"Erin-" he hauled himself to his feet, he didn't know carpet could feel this warm.
"Sit down, David. You're practically a popsicle." she said, eyeing his lips and the weird gray tint of his skin.
"I'm a lot warmer now," he assured her.
"That's not saying much, considering." She gestured towards his sopping wet jeans, "I'll get you something dry. I hope you're okay with sweatpants from Target-" She ducked into the laundry room and rifled through the bags of clothes, in the corner. She kept meaning to drop them off at the thrift store, but hadn't gotten around to it. For once, her procrastination was useful.
She found a pair of black sweatpants and a long sleeved t-shirt and grabbed a pair of socks from the laundry basket as an afterthought. When she heard his heavy footfalls behind her.
"Sweatpants from Target sound great," he smiled, full of appreciation for the warmth she offered him. In more ways than one. He unhooked his belt, sliding it through the loops.
"Here," she passed him the sweats and shirt. "I can wash your clothes-" her hands found the buttons on his shirt. "I can't send you home in your pajamas-" she deftly slid the delicate buttons through their holes. Running her hands down his firmly muscled chest.
"Usually I'm the one doing the undressing," he teased, catching her hand against his chest.
"Sometimes it's good to be on the other side of things," she stood on her toes and shoved his shirt down his shoulders. "Now," her gaze dropped to his chest and the goosebumps, spreading across his skin. "A good host doesn't let her guest freeze, half-naked in the foyer. Or, send her guest home in his pajamas."
What will the neighbors think?" He quipped, stalling her hand against his breastbone. The pounding of her heart rivalled the rhythm under her palm.
"I do have a reputation-" She pretended to think it over, reaching for his fly.
"As do I," his eyes sparkled knowing that his reputation wasn't one she wanted to be associated with. "When did either of us care about that?"
She leaned in, impossibly closer. His breath beat against her breastbone. "You never have."
"Nope," he took her hand and pulled her closer. Wrapping his arms around her waist. "I didn't get a chance to say 'hello,' when I first got here." He said, the warm air from the furnace beat down on them, warming the space around them.
"Hi." She laid her face against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart while holding his waist.
He kissed the top of her head and rested his chin on her hair. "Are you sure you're okay?"
She blew out a breath, enjoying the close contact. "I don't know," it was probably the most honest thing she said in a long time.
He pulled back enough to look her in the eye. "What's to know?"
"Go," she waved her hand towards the bathroom door. "Go get dressed."
He squeezed her wasn't sure what was going on with her, but he had a pretty good idea. "Okay."
She waited for the bathroom door to close, before going into the living room. She knelt in front of the fireplace and tossed a stack of newspapers in the hearth and lit them with a match. Before adding kindling, gradually adding larger pieces of wood until the fire burned bright, warming the living room.
"I'm officially thawed out," Dave announced, lightly stepping into the living room.
"Good," she didn't glance up, instead, she stroked the fire with the iron poker that lived beside the fireplace.
"It's warm in here. I'm not complaining about the view either," he said, taking in the shape of her butt and the way her shirt rose up, above her waist; revealing the smooth skin of the small of her back and the way the firelight combined with the delicate glow from the Christmas tree, shadowed her face.
She stood up and went to the linen closet across the room, grabbing a quilt from the shelf. "I like decorating,"
"You're good at it," he said, scanning the room. Across from the tree in the corner was a small table, covered in white fluff that held an expansive Christmas village display. Complete with the figurines of porcelain houses, a post office and a ferris wheel in the middle. He walked over to the table, to get a closer look.
"Most of it is inherited from my grandparents. They had a huge set, but it was split up between the cousins," said, coming to stand beside him.
"How many cousins do you have?" He was genuinely curious.
"Seven on my father's side."
"Small potatoes," he boasted. Reaching out to touch the ferris wheel, he pulled back; surprised when it turned under his hand.
She shot him a look, "well, how many do you have?"
"25 and counting on my father's side."
"Goodness," she remarked, shaking her head. "I'm sure family functions are crowded.
"My grandparents were Catholic Italians. Five kids was considered a small family."
"How many did they have?"
"12. Until I bought my house, all family holidays were celebrated in June. It was the only time of year we could meet in a park."
"So, you have to host." She smiled at the idea of his 10 bedroom house full of people.
His face scrunched up, "Are you kidding? The last time I hosted, they showed up at my house. I didn't know until the alarm company called to say my cousin had broken a window and climbed inside."
"I presume that was the last time?"
"First," he shrugged, wrapping his arm around her waist; "and last."
"Good for you," she rested her head on his bicep. "It's hard to refuse your family." She thought back to her relationship with Walter. He wasn't family, anymore; but part of her felt obligated to him.
"Surprisingly," he led them back to the couch and sat down. "It wasn't that hard."
"Here." She patted her thigh. "Let me see your feet."
"Erin, I'm fine," he insisted.
Her chin jutted out stubbornly. "You're feet aren't."
"Fine." He huffed; pulling his legs onto the couch, stretching out until his feet were on her lap.
She smirked, he could be so petty. "That's more like it," she unfolded the socks and pulled them on.
"Are those socks…purple?" He asked, looking down at his feet equally amused and horrified at the dark, fuzzy socks encasing his feet.
"They're warm," she countered, fixing him with a glare. "You're welcome."
"It's alright," he shrugged and smirked slightly. "I'm completely secure in my masculinity."
"I'd rather wound your ego for the night than let frostbite permanently take your toes." She threw the quilt over his lap; before standing again.
"Are you going to come sit with me anytime soon?" He grouched, moving over to make space for her.
"I will, do you want some coffee? Hot cocoa, maybe?" She picked up the remote from the coffee table and laid it on the wide arm of the couch.
He caught her hand, something wasn't right with her and he was determined to figure it out. "The only thing hot that I want, is standing in front of me." He said, pulling her until she was laying on top of him. With her head on his chest, her back pressed against the back cushions of the couch.
Warmth and affection for him spread through her, this was why she called him. He made her feel like a woman. Scratch that. He made her feel like a person, a human being with thoughts and opinions.
She grabbed the remote and turned off the stereo, then pointed it at the TV. "Want to watch a movie?" she asked, as the flatscreen came to life.
"What movie? Something seasonally appropriate?"
"Guest's choice," she handed him the remote and he scrolled through the option. Settling on 'It's a Wonderful Life."
"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" He asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Shh… We're watching a movie."
"We can rewind it, later." He grabbed the remote and turned off the TV.
She sat up and grabbed for the remote."Why did you do that?"
"Because we need to talk," he shoved the remote under his hip. "What happened tonight to make you want to drink again?"
She sat up to look at him, balancing her weight on her hand. "How did you-"
"The couch cushions aren't pushed back all the way, and when I passed through the kitchen; I noticed that three of the drawers in the kitchen are partly open. Suggesting that you searched the couch and the drawers looking for something. Two completely unrelated places, unless you were looking for something, that was supposed to be hidden."
"You're fun at parties," she deadpanned, rolling her eyes. "I thought there was a rule against inter-team profiling." She complained, an embarrassed flush colored her face.
He ran his hand affectionately down her back. Normally he'd goad her into submission. He'd hassle her until she gave it up, but somehow he knew that would only make things worse. "It's only fun when the circumstances don't suck."
She took a steadying breath and slowly exhaled. "Walter Strauss called."
"What did he want?" Dave asked, tightening his arm around her. Walter Strauss was a bastard on a good day.
"He wanted a rebound-I hung up on him."
"Have you…" he wasn't sure he wanted an answer to the question. "Have you done that before?"
"It was before you and I," she gestured towards him. "And it didn't mean anything." That was an understatement. Half the time, he left after he got his rocks off. If he stayed the night, he was gone before she woke up. She didn't think it would bother her so much, until he left a $50 bill and the alimony check on the nightstand.
"Are you sure?" Divorces were messy, he knew that all too well. Anything could happen between two people who might possibly miss each other.
"Positive. Just like our marriage, any time spent in bed with Walter Strauss was completely devoid of passion. I'm sure you've had a better time with hookers."
"I wouldn't know anything about sex with hookers," he said mildly.
"Oh." More heat went to her cheeks. "My mistake."
"It's okay, I can see why you'd think that."
They laid there, he kept his hand running down her back. "He makes you feel like shit, huh?" It was a lucky guess. The way she threw her arm across his waist as they laid there. How she tended to him, going overboard to keep him happy. It was what she was used to. Her role as a wife was to please her husband, no matter what.
"The last time…" she cleared her throat. A wave of shame swept through her, "never mind." she choked out, her mouth suddenly went dry. "It's not important."
"Yes it is. You can tell me."
"It's none of your business-"
"You made it my business when you called me over here and I came." He argued, frowning. "Whatever it is, it doesn't leave this room."
"The last time he came over," stubborn tears flooded her eyes. She blinked quickly, keeping them at bay. Walter didn't deserve her tears and she didn't need David to see her weak.
"Go ahead," he tightened his arm protectively around her. "Get it off your chest."
"His check bounced."
"What?"
When she spoke again, the words came out in a rush. If she didn't, she wouldn't be able to say it out loud. "We fucked, he left a $50 on the nightstand and the alimony check. The fucking check bounced. So, yes. To answer your question, he makes me feel like total shit."
His hands curled into fists and his pulse picked up, hammering against his breastbone. "He's a prick who didn't deserve you."
"Thanks," she choked, against the lump in her throat, blinking back the tears of shame and embarrassment flooding her eyes.
"Okay…be straight with me here, why did you call me to come over? Are you looking to be comforted? Or, did you want to have sex and take your frustations out on me?"
"Is 'comforting sex' an option?" She asked, cracking a small smile at her own joke.
"It can be," he said, pulling her on top of him to look her in the eyes. "You know I'll never turn you down," he said, running the pad of his thumb gently down her cheek. "Walter's an asshole, who didn't know what a wonderful woman he had standing in front of him."
"You don't have to-"
"Yes. Yes I do, because you need to hear it." Clearly, she'd gone a long time without a compliment. "You're clean now, you did that all on your own. Sure, someone helped you get into the center, but you worked that program alone-"
"David, please…" she didn't want to hear it, she didn't want to hear him say those things about her. Not when she didn't deserve it.
"I can't tell you to forget about him, but I can ask you not to hang onto the things he did. Don't let him dictate your life now. Don't let him break you when you've come so far on your own. Don't give him that power."
"It's not just him," she bit out, before she could stop herself. "I feel like I can't get anything right-"
"You need a new voice in your head,and I'm determined to help you see what I see. If you decide you want to have sex tonight, you need to know that I'm not Walter. I won't leave money on the dresser. You won't wake up alone and I promise you won't feel like shit when we're done."
"I know you're not Walter. You're the complete opposite-" he cared about her and she knew it.
"As long as we're on the same page, I'm ready when you are. Look at that," he gestured towards his fly and the tent that formed in the sweatpants. "No blue pills needed."
"Since when?" She scoffed, he was nearing 60 after all.
"Since I started sleeping with you,"
"Liar." She thought he snuck them when he went to the bathroom.
"I wish," he scoffed. "I needed them all through my third marriage."
Her brows rose in amusement. "The one that only lasted six months?"
"Yeah and you can guess why,"
"Well," his erection pressed against her leg. "Let's not waste it."
"You're leading-" he announced, grinning from ear to ear.
She blanched, suddenly horrified. Every time she tried to take the reins with Walter, he ridiculed her later. Unhappy that she wasn't like the pornstar of his dreams. He liked things one way, his way. Or Vanilla there was no in-between. "You could have opened with that!"
"It's okay," Dave encouraged her, gently. "This is your show, you can do whatever you want-"
"I want to have an orgasam and you're incredibly good at getting me there."
"That, my dear is what every man wants to hear."
"If I'm the leader, then I'm choosing to delegate-"
"Nope," an amused smirk crossed his face. "That's not how this experiment works. How are you going to gain your confidence if you don't take control?"
"What do you mean?"
"Trust me, Erin." he leaned in to whisper in her ear. His warm breath sent chills down her spine. "There's nothing better than watching someone you love, writhing with passion because of something you did. I promise, it will boost your ego faster than anything."
"Suddenly," a saucy smile stretched across her face. "That's something I'd like to see."
"That's my girl!"
She kissed him, warm and wet. Their mouths danced against each other, tangling their tongues. Taking turns nipping and biting each other.
She lifted her head, long enough to move to the side of his neck. His pulse beat heavily against her mouth, just the thought that she was responsible for a sudden rise in his blood pressure shot heat towards her core.
Her tone turned husky. "How do you feel about hickies?" She sat up, straddling him, nipping down his neck.
"A little makeup before work, never hurt anyone." He ground out, pulling her sweater over her head.
"I thought men were supposed to hate makeup?" She asked, running her hands underneath his shirt. She loved touching him, he held some softness around the middle, but his strength was obvious.
"I do. But I like the experience of a hickey. That's a fair compromise." He said, before planting his lips against the softness of her stomach,she hated her stomach. The stretch marks, the pooch in her abdomen that she couldn't seem to lose, no matter what she did. All the more reason for him to pay it a little more attention. Sucking, licking, biting his way towards her breasts.
"Dave-" She said his name in a moan, pulling his shirt over his head. Nipping down his neck, leaving love bites across his shoulders and down his chest.
"What is it, Beautiful?" He unclasped her bra and yanked it down her shoulders, capturing her nipple in his mouth.
"Dave-"
He pulled back just enough to speak. "You said you wanted one orgasam, but we both know I'm an overachiever."
"I'm on top." She ordered, unbuttoning her pants.
"Okay, look." He shoved her jeans and lace panties down her legs, she kicked them off, leaving them in a heap on the floor. "Have you ever been on top?" They'd done the deed in every other position…at least that's how it seemed.
"No," she was almost ashamed to admit it.
"Good," he praised, "I'll teach you something new. When you get on, go slow. Then write the alphabet with your hips."
"What?"
"It sounds weird, but you'll like it-"
"And you're going to be… watching me, from this angle." Suddenly, that idea didn't sound so great…. Bouncing in his face, him watching the way her body jiggled. No. That wasn't going to work.
"I'm happy to," he assured her. "Come here," he guided her down, until his lips met with hers. He kissed her fiercely, letting all his passion for her fall into the kiss. "You got this, Babe."
Then he lowered his waistband, freeing himself for her control.
"Here," she slid her hand under his waistband, grabbing his ass before pushing his pants the rest of the way off. "Take these off."
"Yes, Ma'am. You're getting the hang of this, leading thing."
"Do you have a condom? Mine are upstairs."
"We've gone bareback before- we're both clean. Aren't you on the pill?"
"Well past that point." She said, "menopause, David."
"Then, I'd say I'm a lucky, lucky man."
"What letter was that?" He gasped, coming closer to the edge.
"D," she breathed out, trying to hold off as more waves of pleasure washed over her. She
"And that one?" His grip on her hips tightened.
"A. Now, V."
"Erin?" amusement lit his eyes. "Are you spelling out my name with your ass?"
"Trying-to."I don't think we're going to make it through Rossi,"
"That's okay-" he exhaled as they tumbled closer and closer to orgasmic bliss. He hooked one finger inside her, sending them both over the edge.
"How'd you like it?" He asked. She laid on top of him, his hands tangled in her hair. He kissed her sweaty forehead, holding her against him. Both naked and physically spent on her couch.
"How did you like it?" She countered, it didn't matter what she thought if he didn't want her to do it again.
"Damn, Erin." He whistled lowly. "I'm always impressed with your performance, but spelling my name was a nice touch. I didn't know you were a freak."
"Dave-" her head shot up, offended. "You can't tell me to get on top and then…"
"No, Babe, no." He chuckled, running his hand down her back, he squeezed her ass. "It's not like that. I've always liked the freaky chicks."
"Good," she sat up. Beaming from ear to ear. "Want to go for round two?"
"In the shower?"
"Is there anywhere else?" She asked, sashaying naked through the living room and up the staircase.
He smiled, watching her. That was the Erin Strauss he was used to; and he'd make damn sure she stayed that way.
Sunlight streamed through the eyelet curtains on Christmas morning. The light reflected off the six feet of snow outside, casting a bright glow in the bedroom. Erin rolled over, holding the flat sheet over her naked form. She stretched across the queen sized mattress, her eyes shot open. The space beside her, cold and bare. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing back the tears. She should have known he was a liar.
She got out of bed and pulled on some clothes. Her own clothes. She didn't need to flatter him by coming downstairs in his button down and panties. No. All she needed was a slice of toast before going back to bed. She pulled on her yoga pants and an FBI sweatshirt, before stepping into the hallway.
The familiar scent of bacon, frying in a skillet washed over her. Where did that come from? She went back into her room and grabbed her service weapon from the nightstand, then hurried down the stairs.
"Good morning." Dave turned the hashbrowns in the skillet without turning around.
"David-" She flushed, embarrassed and shoved the gun in her waistband behind her back. "I thought you left-"
"Why would I do that?" He turned around, "I was going to bring you breakfast."
"Oh…" she stepped into the kitchen, surveying the buffet laid out on the marble countertop. "Where did all this food come from?" She didn't have potatoes or bacon in her house, she never bought fresh fruit since it spoiled so fast. But there was a winter fruit salad sitting next to the stove.
"I brought it." He got up early and tramped back to his car to get what he'd brought. Who knew playing Santa could be so much fun? He spooned some hashbrowns from the skillet and handed her the plate. "Don't go in the living room yet."
She cleared her throat, thinking about the gun currently rubbing against her ass crack. "I'll uh…I'll be right back." She sat the plate down and hurried toward the staircase. Unfortunately, for her, the hem of her sweatshirt rose, displaying the handle of the gun.
"Uh…Sweetheart?"
She paused, just long enough for him to reach around her and grab the gun. "You were going to shoot me?" He asked, wide eyed.
"I thought you left," she rushed to defend herself. "Your side of the bed was empty, with the sheets pulled up!"
"Yes, because there's a guy out there, willing to brave six feet of snow, just to break in here and cook!"
"You know that's a possibility-"
He shook his head, mocking her now. "She was going to shoot me. I cooked her breakfast, ready to serve it to her and her big plan was to shoot me. On Christmas Morning, of all days."
"You're a jerk!" She swatted his chest, smiling wide. "You know it wasn't like that-"
"I know," he laid the gun on the counter and leaned in, kissing her sweetly. Her green eyes shone up at him. "Merry Christmas, Beautiful."
"Merry Christmas, David."
"I'll put this back," he picked up the gun. "Make a plate and sit down."
He came back two minutes later, she'd made his plate and poured two cups of coffee.
"Thank you," he gestured towards the plates on the table and pulled out her seat.
"Thanks for cooking," she sat down and lifted her fork. "It looks great."
They ate, enjoying each other's company. Erin couldn't imagine spending Christmas any other way.
"Come on," Dave pushed back his chair and stood up. "Let's see what Santa left under the tree."
"Dave-" she stood up, pushing her chair in.
"Don't argue with me on this. It's Christmas and I wanted to give you a good one." He went up behind her and covered her eyes. "You deserve this, let yourself enjoy it." He led her into the living room, then dropped his hands.
"Dave," she gasped in surprise. Under the tree sat several packages, on the mantelpiece were the stockings she hung with her children's names, that she'd already filled. Before she called Dave to come over. The one with her name hung empty in the middle of the mantle. Now, all four were full and Dave's hung beside hers, also full.
"Wait," she turned around to face him. "I have things for you, too." She went to the linen closet and pulled out a box, then withdrew each package, laying them underneath the tree. Complete was another stocking with his name on it.
"When did we become Santa's helpers," he quipped, passing her, her stocking.
"Apparently, the day we started caring about each other." She said, handing him his.
"I've always cared," he sat beside her on the floor, enjoying the warmth emitting from the fire in the fireplace. "I just couldn't do anything about it."
She looked up, surprised, "you could have."
He stared at her with a serious expression. "It wouldn't have ended well."
"You're probably right,"
"Let's get down to business here," he slid the contents of his stocking in a row across the floor. Inside, he found all of his favorite candy, a new monogrammed set of cufflinks and a bottle of his favorite cologne.
"I love these," he flipped open the box,containing the cufflinks.
"Good," He loved anything with his monogram on it.
"Thank you. What did you get?" He bounced up and down in his spot. "What'd ya get? What'd ya get? What'd ya get?"
She giggled, he could be such a little boy sometimes. She picked through the stocking, pulling things out one-by-one.
He wanted to rush her, tell her to dump it out, not to worry about making a mess; but kept silent. Instead, he watched her slowly peel back the paper on a small velvet box. "What's this?" She looked up, fixing him with a serious expression.
"It's not what you think-" he assured her, knowing neither one of them wanted to get married. "Just open it."
She flipped open the box, and inside lay a diamond bracelet.
"It's lovely," she beamed, "Thank you."
"The rest of this-" he gestured to the pile of gifts underneath the tree, it sounds corny-"
"Tell me!" She insisted, suddenly curious. "What is this?"
"I bought you gifts, for every week you were in rehab. Just little things…Pens, journals, an I-pad….There's a box of freshly baked Italian Wedding cookies. Ya know, things like that. I wanted to bring them to you, but I uh…" he gaze dropped to the ivory carpet. "I wanted to bring them to you, but I didn't think you wanted to see me."
"I would have loved to see you," she laid her hand on his arm. "Thank you, for thinking of me." In rehab, she felt all but abandoned. It was nice to know that someone was thinking of her while she was gone.
"I missed you," he reached up and moved a tendril of hair behind her ear. His knuckles tenderly grazed her cheek, "I'm glad you're here now."
"Me too," she kissed him, running her fingers through his hair. Deepening the kiss, she tilted backwards, landing on her back. Pulling Dave on top of her as their lips tangled, Dave swallowed her moans of pleasure as he groped her breast under the FBI shirt.
"Erin-" he bit out, pulling back just enough for her to see the passion burning in his eyes. The passion that burned for her alone.
"Dammit," he growled, when the chime of the doorbell cut him off. "Are you expecting anyone?"
"No," She thought of the kids, but they were all out of state.
"Then, I'll get it. It's someone very stupid, if they were willing to drive through this weather." He gestured to the window, where the snow still fell. Then pulled himself to his feet.
He threw open the door, annoyed at the interruption. Then noticed who was standing in front of him. Oh joy. "Who are you?"
"Walter Strauss." The man held out his skinny hand. "And you are?"
"Why are you here?" Dave eyed the man in front of him, up and down. Walter Strauss looked as wormy as Erin made him sound.
"The better question," Strauss adjusted his round,nearly-coke-bottle, glasses, "is why are you here? She's my wife."
"Ex-wife."
"She belongs to me," Strauss barked, trying to push his way inside. Dave was bigger and blocked the door, pulling it closed.
"She doesn't belong to anyone." Dave stepped forward, forcing the other man backwards, he missed his step and nearly dropped off the porch. "I want to knock your ass off this porch and pray you break your neck."
"You won't," Strauss goaded. "I know you, you're David Rossi. You're FBI."
"It doesn't matter who I am." Dave growled, anger, boiling rage flashed across his face. Now, like I said," he continued, almost placatingly. "I want to knock you off the porch. I won't, but only because I think Erin deserves the chance to tell you off, before I do."
"You wouldn't dare-"
He stepped forward again, sending Strauss closer to the edge, his heels teetered on the wood. "Do you really want to play that game? I'll call her out here, but you need to know one thing. She deserves the world, you need to back off and stay away from her, so she can get it."
"David!" Erin stepped onto the porch, "don't drop him."
He turned his head, "Come on, Babe. We're just having fun."
She smiled a predatory grin spread across her face. "Walter. I don't know what you're doing here and I couldn't care less." The wooden porch creaked with every step she took. "I don't want you anywhere near me. The kids are adults, they can choose what they do with you," she stepped closer, stomping the wood with her boots. "I want you to stay." She brushed against Dave's shoulder, "away." Walter stumbled, but didn't fall. "Stay away from me."
"Erin!" Walter yelled, his heels rocked backwards and he flipped off the porch, tumbling into the snow."This isn't over! You bitch! You hateful, devil bitch!"
Dave flashed her a proud smile as Strauss scrambled to his feet and booked it back to his car. "That was brutal," he praised. "How did that feel?"
"It feels amazing." She was practically glowing with pride, "I enjoyed that."
He pulled her close, kissing her lips. Picking up where they left off. After a minute, he pulled back. "See, I told you, you were freaky."
She laughed, watching Strauss's car disappear down the road. "Where were we, before we were so rudely interrupted?"
"Before we pick up on that," Dave paused, hugging her close to him. "I want you to know that this isn't just a fling for me."
"It's not a fling for me either," she looked up at him, watching the way affection for her lit his eyes.
"I want to date you," he said, his tone turned husky. "I won't have you any other way."
"Lucky for you, I want to be courted." She stood on her toes, kissing him again. They were going to do it right. Or not at all. This was shaping up to be the best grown-up Christmas she could've asked for.