Author's Note: Wow, I can't believe it took me 43 chapters to heal Jane up (physically, at least)!
When he heard industrial rock music playing down the hallway, Kurt almost gave up on his plan to get a workout in before other agents started arriving. It was five-thirty in the morning; he hadn't been able to sleep, worries about Sandstorm and about his part in Shepherd's plan plaguing him. He'd decided to come into work early and use the gym while it was quiet, but it sounded like someone else had had the same idea. Someone with an angry taste in workout tracks.
After a moment, he continued down the hall. He was here, so he might as well get some exercise. The alternative option was paperwork, and he didn't feel like tackling it quite this early.
He reached the gym's doorway and stopped, surprised. Jane was laying into a punching bag with all her might, sweat glistening on her tattoos and dampening her clothing. She seemed oblivious to his presence, and as she fell back to circle round a couple of steps, he saw she was almost in a trance, completely in her zone.
It had been over a week since Rich Dotcom's dramatic re-entrance into their lives. He and his boyfriend, Boston Arliss Crab—who, as Patterson had suggested, wasn't dead—were back in prison, serving their sentences and awaiting trial for the extra crimes they'd managed to commit while on the loose.
Since then, he and Jane had been friendly, but by unspoken agreement had kept their distance from each other outside of work. Kurt had no idea what Rich had said to Jane while he'd been alone with her, but his extremely obvious, "Remember what I said, Jane!" before he'd been taken away by the real prison transport guards…that made Kurt nervous. He'd asked Jane what Rich had meant, but she'd just shrugged and told him it was just Rich being Rich.
Jane hadn't sought his company outside of work, and—conscious of the conversation they'd had after he'd kissed her neck in the locker room—Kurt had kept his hands and lips to himself while they were at the NYO. It seemed that what happened in Jane's living room stayed in Jane's living room, and Jane was happier that way.
He'd missed her, but instinctively, he knew she needed time and space. If she came to him again, it would be on her own terms.
Kurt stepped into the room, and Jane glanced over as she registered his presence. When she realised who had joined her, her face lit up. "Hey."
"Hey." He gestured to the punching bag as she crossed to the stereo system and turned down the music a little. "You're using your arm."
"Yeah. I got cleared for it last night, so…"
"And you've been here ever since?" he teased.
"Not quite. I did a quick set last night, but when I woke up early I figured there was no use lying around in bed. Are you here to work out? I could use a sparring partner."
"Sure. Let me get changed and I'll be right out."
He headed into the men's locker room, inwardly marvelling at the change in Jane. Her mood seemed lighter, her demeanour more open. He'd known she'd hated her injured body's limitations, but it was only seeing her like this that brought it home to him just how much. She was almost like her old self again.
He changed into his workout gear quickly, then headed back out. Jane had stowed the punching bag away, and was stretching her newly healed arm experimentally.
"Hope you go a little easier on me than you did on that bag," Kurt said.
She rolled her eyes. "Are you kidding? I punch like a toddler right now. I probably couldn't hurt you if I tried."
"Don't sell yourself short," he told her, as they squared off. "Sawyer landed some pretty hard hits on me when he was that age."
Jane smiled. "Don't go easy on me, okay? I'm out of practice, but getting my ass kicked helps me get better. I've been favouring this arm for so long that it's turning into a habit."
"You can probably still wipe the floor with me."
"Let's find out."
They started slow, circling each other, studying each other's movements for tension in a certain limb, a shift of weight in a certain direction that could indicate where the next strike was coming from. Kurt landed the first hit, taking advantage of her weak side. Jane didn't let him press the advantage, turning aside to dodge his next blow, then dealing a light, symbolic strike to his kidney once he'd committed his weight to the punch. Kurt twisted back, making a mental note that she was still quicker than he was.
"Nice," he told her, as they circled once more.
"How's your wound?" Jane asked, touching her collarbone to indicate the healing knife slash the Akkadian had given him.
"Not slowing me down, if that's what you're implying." He deflected her next punches, leapt over her crafty kick, almost managed to land a right hook of his own, but was caught off-guard by her pulling his arm into an arm-lock.
"I wasn't implying anything," she said breathlessly, keeping his arm twisted up and immobilised behind his back while her other arm snaked up around his neck, lightly simulating a choke-hold.
Kurt took a moment to appreciate the warmth of her skin against his before using his superior strength against her, flipping her up and over his back. She rolled into a soft landing and sprang to her feet, giving him a smile that made his heart somersault.
It had been so long since he'd seen real joy on her face.
He focused on parrying as Jane attacked, letting her land a few blows, content just to watch her enjoy herself. Then he grabbed her foot mid-kick and shoved her back, taking advantage while she was off-balance to sweep her other foot out from under her. She broke her fall on her forearms, kicked up into his midsection and regained her footing, shaking her head. "I should have seen that one coming."
They continued for a while, until Kurt judged that Jane had had enough. She was breathing hard, obviously not in discomfort, but her moves were beginning to get sloppy. He wasn't sure how long she'd been working out before he'd joined her, but she was in danger of overdoing it if he didn't stop them soon.
He waited for an opportunity to take her down and pin her, but his own distraction saw him spilled onto the mat, flat on his back.
Jane grinned down at him, staying just far enough away that he couldn't bring her down with him. "You done?"
Weller groaned, faking a cramp in his leg as he sat up. Concerned, Jane she stepped into arm's reach, intent on checking him over. "Did I—?"
Her words sheared off with a gasp as Kurt pulled both of her ankles out from under her, then helped to soften her landing as she fell on top of him. He wrapped both arms around her, rolled her onto the mat and pinned her wrists on either side of her head, immobilising her body with his. "I think this means I win."
Jane gave a token struggle, then went limp, laughing softly. "That was a dirty trick, Weller."
"We fight criminals for a living," he pointed out, gazing down at her from just a couple of inches above. "They won't always play fair."
"Huh." Jane's attention drifted down to his lips, then back up to his eyes again. Her amusement softening, she lifted her head and pressed a brief, breathless kiss against his mouth.
As she lowered her head back to the floor, he followed her down, capturing her lips and meeting her tongue halfway to his. They were both still catching their breath from their sparring session, breathing raggedly into each other's mouths, their growing arousal only making it worse. Kurt lifted his head, trying to give them some room to recover, releasing Jane's arms to support himself better and avoid crushing her.
The second she felt him give way, Jane rolled them over again, sitting astride his hips and using her upper body weight to pin his forearms to the mat. "Does this mean I win?"
"I could live with that." Weller grinned up at her. "What does the winner get?"
"Hmm…" She leaned down again, her hair falling around his face as she kissed him. Her hips shifted in a subtle rhythm against his growing hard-on, stoking the fire within him. He tried to move his hands to her waist, but she was still pinning him down.
"Jane," he murmured against her lips.
"Sorry," she said, as she sat up. Then she quoted his words about his locker room behaviour right back at him. "Momentary loss of control. Won't happen again."
With a mischievous grin, she rose from on top of him and left him, speechless and panting, on the floor of the deserted gym.
"I guess I deserved that," Kurt said to the ceiling, as he listened to the women's locker room door clicking shut.
After giving himself a moment to calm down, he got up and headed for the shower. As he stepped under the spray, he realised that by the rules she'd set the other week, this meant she owed him an orgasm.
Better make it a cold shower.