A/N: So this was definitely supposed to be a quick little piece about the girls shopping together—and then this happened. Sorry about the long-ness of this, I can't seem to help it and I'm not the biggest fan of (writing) multi-chapters. I don't often write holiday pieces either, so this is a bit different for me. Merry Christmas everyone!
Silver And Gold
XOX
He's more myself than I am.
Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.
-Emily Bronte
XOX
"I have everything I need you guys. This really isn't necessary," Jane pleaded for the millionth time, useless as it was. The trio stood outside the massive department store. They hadn't even stepped inside and Jane could already feel the pressure crushing her.
She rubbed her arms furiously to keep her upper body warm, white puffs of breath following every word she spoke. With the weather turning colder, Jane had finally caved; allowing them to take her on this dreaded shopping trip.
Or maybe surrendered was a better word, as the two women had shown up on her porch, devious smiles on their faces as they claimed she was either going shopping willingly or they were forcibly kidnapping her. The choice—or lack thereof it—was hers.
Zapata snorted, eyeing Jane's current ensemble—a thin, white, long sleeve shirt and an equally lightweight jacket were all that protected her from the elements. "Two pairs of jeans and a bunch of monochromatic tank tops do not a wardrobe make, Jane. Suck it up. We're going shopping."
Patterson shot her a reassuring smile, linking her arm through Jane's. "I promise, it's not that bad. Plus it'll give you insight into what you like. Colors, textures, patterns…"
Jane sighed, overwhelmed. "Where do we even start?"
"We start by actually going inside," Zapata observed dryly, pushing the heavy door open as she sipped her coffee.
Unlike Patterson's cheery demeanor so early in the morning, Zapata's personality was rather biting without the rich, black liquid to sustain her.
Jane steeled herself as they entered the massive store. Everything was bathed in a soft, yellow light, and the décor was already gearing up for the holiday season. It seemed like everything her eyes caught glittered or shimmered in shades of red, gold, and green. It was absurdly distracting.
The front of the store was entirely made of displays of coats and cold weather accessories, exactly where Patterson herded them. Winter outerwear took precedent. Her menial assortment of sweat jackets weren't going to keep her warm for the bitter weather ahead.
"Okay," Patterson said with an air of authority, dropping Jane's arm. She peeled off her gloves, pulling a piece of paper out of her handbag. She unfolded it, skimming it over before saying, "You'll definitely need a heavy coat, a pair of gloves, a hat, and a scarf."
"You made a list?" Jane observed warily.
Patterson shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Of course."
Tasha tried to stifle her laughter. "We're not going grocery shopping."
"You laugh now, but Jane will be sorry if she goes home without…socks…or something," Patterson said defensively. Jane threw her a half smile.
Since David's death, Patterson had buried herself in work—in others. Jane had become her latest project. Tasha met Jane's eyes in a knowing look.
"You're right, a list won't hurt. Lord knows Jane is bound to try to get out of buying half of what she actually needs anyway," Tasha Zapata teased. "Here, gimme that piece of paper."
Patterson handed it over, holding Tasha's coffee cup as she scribbled her own additions to the list.
Jane huffed, peeking over her shoulder to see what she'd written. "I seriously doubt I need three pairs of high heels," she said, then flushed profusely as her eyes continued to scan the paper. "Or lace lingerie!"
"Please, Jane, every woman needs nice lingerie in their life. It makes you feel…confident," Zapata added with a shrug. Patterson bobbed her head in agreement. "Besides, the sports bras and boy shorts are sad. You're a grown woman, not a pre-teen in a training bra. It stays on the list."
Jane grit her teeth, snatching the list from Zapata's hand. Along with heels and lingerie, Tasha had scrawled jewelry and makeup.
"I don't think I wear jewelry—won't that get in the way in the field? And makeup—do I really need that?"
Patterson and Zapata shared a look.
"Well, you have pierced ears. I noticed that back when I first examined you," Patterson supplied, pulling a lock of Jane's hair away from her ear and pointing out the tiny hole in one of the many mirrors surrounding the columns in the store. "A pretty pair of studs wouldn't hurt. It's not like you're always in the field. You gotta have a little fun. I mean, what if you get asked out for a nice dinner—a date—and you don't have anything fancy to wow him with? We're only thinking of you," Patterson smiled, continuing at the sudden fear of having to date that flit across Jane's face. "All this FBI-issue-everything that you have is totally lacking any personality. And you have to admit, you liked the makeup you wore for that undercover assignment with Weller."
"Trust me, he liked more than that," Zapata added suggestively. Jane and Patterson turned to her, confused. "What? I talked to Allison. She said he could barely take his eyes off you."
At the mention of Kurt, Jane couldn't stop her cheeks from flaming. They hadn't discussed the kiss. Hell, they'd barely even spoken to each other. Between her abduction, the swift and sudden death of Carter, Oscar's appearance, and the video—the latter two a piece of the puzzle she hadn't yet mentioned to anyone—neither had gotten a minute to themselves.
It didn't help that Jane was never alone now. Kurt had upped her security, ratting out her nightly adventures to a less than amused Mayfair. Not that Jane could blame him. After what had happened, he was doing enough of that for both of them. At least, he thought he was.
The burden of that video and all it entailed haunted her. Every time her thoughts strayed to that kiss, or Kurt, she heard the video version of herself explaining that she'd done this—all of it—to herself. That it had been her idea to put his name on her back. Which led to the inevitable question: had she sought out Kurt Weller with the intent to get close to him in an attempt to infiltrate the FBI? Or was she truly the missing girl he so desperately wanted her to be and this was a convenient way for her to return herself to him? More importantly, if neither of those situations were the case, why had she done this to begin with?
Oscar had answered none of these. "It's not the right time," was all he said, before fleeing as the FBI burst through the warehouse, their footsteps echoing in the halls. She'd had precious little time to fabricate a story for what had transpired.
She'd kept it as simple as possible. The less detail in a lie, the better. A stranger she never saw fired on the men. He was wearing a mask. He cut her bindings and fled, the unsung hero.
Kurt had certainly seemed willing to buy it.
That made it worse.
"Jane, you okay? You're flushed," Zapata observed, a curious lilt in her voice.
"What?" Jane responded weakly. She really needed to learn how to rein in her emotions. She vacillated somewhere between a mess of tears and a blushing, love-struck teenager at any given moment.
"We mention Weller and suddenly you're a tomato. Care to share with the rest of the class?"
Jane swallowed thickly, averting her eyes. "Don't we have shopping to do, this list is…long."
Zapata rolled her eyes as Patterson stifled a laugh. "It's okay, we'll get the truth out of you yet," Patterson said, nudging her elbow.
That's exactly what I'm afraid of.
The two women seemed to drop the issue for the time being, but Jane knew they'd circle back to the topic of Weller and her traitorous emotions eventually.
Zapata took the list back from Jane. "Let's worry about coats later. We should start with the basics," she began, ushering Jane towards a separate section of the department store.
"Good idea," Patterson replied, catching onto Tasha's train of thought, the devious smiles from this morning stretching across their faces once more. "Always start with lingerie. Clothes aren't going to look right unless you have the proper foundation."
"Of course, it doesn't hurt to get some less practical items, either," Tasha added devilishly, fingering the transparent mesh of a black lace negligee.
Jane sighed, still beet red, seeing the forest for the trees. It was futile to resist their impish insinuations. They'd read her expression, and knew her well enough to know something was going on with her and Weller, and they'd do everything in their power to poke that hornet's nest.
Besides, Zapata was right. The sports bras and boy shorts were more than sad—they were boring.
And boring she certainly was not.
Her thoughts strayed to the kiss once more as the pair chattered on, pointing out one unnecessary, fanciful item after another. Even if she'd formulated some diabolical plan to dismantle the government or expose corruption on a global scale, her feelings for Kurt were very real—whether she'd intended them to be or not.
And suddenly, surrounded by her two well-intentioned friends and all the lovely, delicate lace underpinnings the boutique had to offer, she very much wanted to feel as beautiful as she did when he looked at her. She wanted to bottle that feeling. Wanted to see that desire in his blue eyes every time she walked into a room.
Jane smiled, bracing herself for…well, everything.
"Okay, let's do this."
XOX
It was late in the evening by the time they'd shopped themselves out. Jane winced at the mountain of colorful bags and boxes that littered Zapata's car, not sure if the three of them would all fit in the vehicle now.
After hours of being poked, prodded, measured, pinned, and expertly fitted, Jane had called it quits. Her wardrobe was now to Patterson and Zapata's satisfaction, and they'd threatened her with bodily harm if she even dared to wear her tank tops after all that effort.
She knew they were serious.
Not wanting to break the spell the day had cast and head back to the loneliness of her safe house, Jane had declared they needed dinner—and drinks. Two Manhattan's later, Jane was feeling significantly more relaxed.
Patterson swirled her straw sloppily in her second Long Island iced tea, sloshing a bit of it onto the tabletop—easily the lightweight of the three women. "So Jane, why'd you get all flustered when I mentioned Weller?" the blonde slurred slightly, pointing her straw emphatically at Jane.
Jane tried to dodge the path of the flying droplets to no avail.
What did it matter if she smelled like liquor, it wasn't like she was allowed to drive anyway.
"Yeah Jane, I'm curious too," Zapata said, raising an incriminating eyebrow.
Tasha was perhaps the most perceptive of them all. Jane wondered if Kurt's sudden change of heart, after all but shutting her out on the false pretense of objectivity, had anything to do with Tasha's time spent with him in the backwoods of Michigan. He'd changed after that excursion. There was a light in his eyes that hadn't been there before they'd separated, out in the forest. Someday, she'd ask her.
Jane stared into her third Manhattan, taking a long pull of the liquid courage and closing her eyes tight. "I kissed Kurt."
Patterson's elbow—which had been propped on the table, her right hand cupping her chin—slid across the smooth surface, nearly knocking Tasha's glass over in shock.
Zapata pursed her lips, not nearly as surprised as a gentle smirk touched the edges of her mouth.
"What?" Patterson gasped. "Details…please!"
Jane bit her lip, blushing furiously once again.
"Wait, no. No, we shouldn't know this. This is as scandalous as you sneaking out," Patterson recanted, waving her hands in the air dramatically.
"Scandalous, really?" Tasha snorted. "It's not scandalous if it's inevitable. Though I'll give you credit, my bet was on anywhere between Christmas and New Years. So if you talk to Reade, this conversation never happened."
Patterson had the decency to look affronted for Jane. "You bet on when they'd kiss!"
"Since, like, day one," Zapata shrugged. As if she'd pass up a bet like that. Patterson eyed her dubiously. "And clearly, it's easy money."
"You're horrible," Patterson chastised good-naturedly. "Betting on our friend's love life. You should be ashamed."
Zapata popped a ketchup soaked French fry into her mouth. "You're just mad you didn't get in on the bet."
"Okay, maybe a little," Patterson grumbled, turning pink at her admission. Then she perked up, focusing once more on Jane. "Details."
Jane wavered for a second. Where did she start? What did they even want to know?
"I…um…well it was kind of…spontaneous. It's not like I planned it, it just sort of…happened when I went to see him. I don't know if I intended on kissing him when I showed up or if I just needed to see him. I didn't really think about it," Jane began, playing with the condensation on her glass. She smiled softly. "It was nice. I think I surprised him. It wasn't much of a kiss, really. But it was intense, and it felt…right—not that I have anything to compare it too. Besides, his nephew kind of…interrupted us before we could get into it."
"Kids are the worst," Zapata commented, a kind sarcasm lacing her tone. Patterson shook her head at her friend.
"So have you guys like…talked about this?" the blonde analyst pried gently.
Jane's face fell a little. "No. We've barely gotten a minute alone together. I don't know if he's doing that on purpose or if we just keep missing each other. He's been kind of distant, since the whole abduction thing."
"Weller's like…the most closed off person in the world. You already had to make the first move. In my opinion, you have two options here. You either give him his space and let him figure out what exactly this all means to him, or you march over there in one of these absurdly cute outfits we picked out for you and take what's yours," Zapata deadpanned, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrow.
"Tasha has a point," Patterson agreed. "Weller is a lot of things, but forthcoming is not one of them. And men are slow. I say go for it."
"Five minutes ago you said her kissing Weller was scandalous and now you're on board?" Zapata teased, sipping her soda.
"That was before I finished my drink," Patterson said, tapping her empty glass and trying to keep her words from slurring any worse than they already were. "Besides, Jane's not an FBI Agent. She's an asset. There's no rule against them dating."
"You're one of those true-love-conquers-all people aren't you?"
Jane smiled a bit at that. She felt gratified, knowing they were on her side. That they approved. It left a warm feeling in her chest as she watched them quip back and forth.
Even if she'd orchestrated this, down to the very last drop of ink on her skin, there were clearly things she hadn't accounted for in all that planning.
Things like friends.
XOX
"You look…nice," Kurt said awkwardly, eyeing Jane. The quiet was stifling in the government issued SUV as they drove, and the sudden break in it made her flinch.
She shot him a small smile. "Uh, thanks," Jane replied, fidgeting with her hands. This was the first time they'd truly been alone together since the kiss, and that was three weeks ago.
After their dinner, the girls had gone about putting outfits together for her, showing her how to interchange them and what accessories to add. Since then, Jane had taken to wearing a pair of faux, black diamond studs in her ears and a thick, hammered silver ring on her left middle finger. They were minimal pieces that didn't interfere with her action in the field.
Patterson had been coaching her on makeup early in the mornings, before work—time which Jane actually found she enjoyed. Her expanded detail wasn't exactly thrilled about leaving earlier than intended, but Patterson had put an end to their complaints with a few sharp glares. They kept her makeup sparse—black eyeliner and dark mascara had become her staples, along with a few swipes of a pink, tinted balm that tasted like cherries when she licked her lips.
She'd made a slow transition into her new wardrobe. Everything she owned was still steeped in dark shades, but she'd at least expanded past hues of gray and white. Vibrant jewel tones filled her closet now; royal blue button downs, emerald green sweaters that, according to Zapata, brought out her equally emerald green eyes, and burgundy blouses in silk and cashmere and all varying fabrics and textures.
The rich, navy cashmere sweater she wore now was one of her favorite purchases. She couldn't stop herself from running her fingertips over the soft material, a habit Kurt hadn't missed.
"They took you shopping," he surmised. Since her abduction, she'd been…off. Wary of them all, to some degree. Kurt had graciously put distance between them, but he wasn't sure if that was for her benefit or his. Jane seemed the most at ease around Patterson and Zapata. Kurt had gone about speaking with some of Jane's detail, and they'd confirmed the two women had been spending an inordinate amount of time with Jane the past few weeks. It made him happy to know she had people to talk to, but was a bit disheartened it wasn't him she sought out.
"Yeah, it was surprisingly…fun," Jane replied, brightening considerably. "My closet is full of something other than tank tops now. The FBI probably wasn't happy with the bill though."
"I wouldn't worry about it. That dress you wore undercover was probably worth more than a year's salary," Kurt added, picturing her in the modest black number, a several million dollar diamond necklace around her delicate throat.
Jane swallowed hard, looking out the window. This was idle chitchat. Somewhat impersonal small talk that neither was any good at, and it was grating her nerves. "Did I…did I make this weird, between us?"
"What do you mean?" Kurt asked, knowing full well what she meant. His grip on the steering wheel tightened just a fraction.
"This is the first time we've been alone together since…" she trailed off, feeling silly. "I guess I just figured you were…avoiding me, again. I can, um…I can understand, if you want to forget it. I just wish you wouldn't ignore me."
Jane twisted the silver ring on her finger, like she'd played with the wedding bands not long ago.
"I'm not avoiding you," he said on a sigh. "I just, figured I'd give you your space. You went through a lot…it wasn't a good time to talk."
She shook her head, a small, sarcastic laugh bubbling up. "Patterson and Tasha talk to me just fine," she threw back at him. They pulled into a parking spot just outside the law offices one of her tattoos had led them to. Jane huffed at his lack of response, pulling her new, black, wool peacoat tightly around her as she stepped out of the SUV.
"I'm not a porcelain doll, you know. I won't break," she bit out, slamming the door and trudging up the snow covered steps.
Kurt rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose at the onset of the headache. Serves you right, he thought. These self-imposed silences he forced between them had already bit him in the ass once. The last thing he needed was another heart-to-heart with Zapata. With how closely the woman had grown to Jane, he was certain the next talking to he received would not be in his favor.
Jane waited for him at the reception desk, arms crossed defiantly. She didn't comment on his lagging behind. "We're looking for a Harvey Williams," he said to the secretary.
"Second floor, but I believe he's in a meeting," she replied, nodding towards the elevators.
"Thank you," Kurt said, catching himself before he could place his hand on Jane's back. He curled it into a fist at his side, fighting the temptation.
They rode the elevator up in uncomfortable silence.
"Wait here, I'll see how much longer this meeting is supposed to last," Kurt said tersely, not waiting for a reply. He was gone before she could protest his absurd order.
Jane shrugged out of her coat in the warm office, draping it over her arm. The firm was extensive, specializing in corporate law. "Lawyers, for the rich bastards on Wall Street," Reade had said, voice dripping with sarcasm. Indeed, the men and women were exquisitely dressed, no hair out of place. Everyone and everything seemed to ooze money.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" A man asked to her left. Patterson probably could've told her the designer of the perfectly tailored suit he wore, but it was lost on her. He was obscenely handsome—clean-shaven, squared jawline, thick, dark hair and bright blue-gray eyes.
"Oh, um, I'm just waiting for my partner," Jane said, waving a hand towards the room she assumed the meeting was taking place in. That was the direction Kurt had wandered off in, anyway.
"Oh, forgive me, is your husband in the meeting? I can take you to our lounge?"
Jane glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearly lunchtime—no wonder he assumed. "No, I'm not married," she quickly corrected him, not sure why she hadn't led with the fact she was part of the FBI.
He eyed her appraisingly, but politely, at that. He didn't let his gaze linger on her so long as to make her uncomfortable—just enough that she felt herself blush. She'd have to thank Patterson and Zapata later.
"I'm a consultant, with the FBI," she offered, tucking her hair behind her ear shyly.
"The FBI should be so lucky," he grinned, holding out his hand. She gave it a firm shake as her stomach flip-flopped. "I've never seen such a beautiful agent. I'm Andrew Carr, one of the partners here. Quite a pleasure to meet you, I hope we're not in too much trouble."
"Nice to meet you too, I'm Jane. We're just here to ask a few questions," Jane answered, unable to stop the way her voice pitched an octave higher.
Kurt chose that moment to return, cautiously eyeing the man speaking to his—what, partner? Asset? Friend? The rosy tint that played on her cheeks made him pause. Was she flirting with this guy?
They still gripped each other's hands when he cleared his throat, standing just behind Jane, a bit closer than he usually considered appropriate. "I can't get anything out of his assistant, won't know how long they're going to be in there," he said, irritation coating his tone.
Jane dropped Andrew's hand, startled.
Andrew looked over at Kurt, holding his hand out to him in turn. "Andrew Carr, I was just introducing myself to your consultant. Mistook her for the wife of one of our associates," he smiled genially. Kurt shook his hand briefly. Jane ducked her head at what she could only assume was a high compliment, given the appearances of the lawyers in the firm.
"Special Agent Kurt Weller," Kurt said gruffly.
"Who is it that you need to speak with?"
"Harvey Williams, we just have a few questions we'd like to ask him."
Andrew nodded. "Let me see what I can do," he said, eyes falling back to Jane before he departed.
"Thank you," Jane said softly.
"What was that about?" Kurt asked her darkly, as soon as Andrew was out of earshot. She recognized the possessive tone—the same one he'd used when addressing both Rich Dotcom and his handsy security guards. She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes even as she felt an odd flutter in her stomach at his barely veiled jealously.
"You're the one that left me behind," she quipped, cocking her head to the side.
He certainly wouldn't be doing that again.
Any further awkwardness was cut short by the arrival of Harvey Williams, Andrew Carr following just behind him.
Both Harvey and the firm was a dead end. Forty-five minutes into the questioning and Jane was suddenly wishing she'd eaten breakfast. Coffee was not food.
Jane sighed, lingering in the doorway as Kurt finished speaking with Williams. Andrew caught her eye over Kurt's shoulder before he excused himself, approaching her. She found herself flattered by the attention he paid her. It was a grand departure from the kind of attention she received at the FBI—all clinical detachment and circumspect curiosity. She felt almost…normal, in the eyes of this man.
"If you ever need a lawyer…" Andrew smirked, handing her his card. The edges of Jane's lips twitched. "My number is on the back."
She turned it over. Indeed, his personal cell was written in blue pen.
Jane bit her lip, coyly replying, "I'll keep you in mind."
"Jane, you ready," Kurt said more than asked, eyes narrowed.
She nodded, slipping her coat on. This time, knowing Andrew was watching, Kurt let his hand rest on the small of her back.
XOX
"Jealous Weller, how was that?" Zapata inquired, eyebrow raised sky high. She sipped her margarita, watching Patterson flit back and forth in Jane's tiny kitchen.
"It was…interesting?" Jane replied, her forehead furrowing, searching for a better description. "I mean, it's not like I'm going to call this guy. He barely believed I was a consultant as it was."
"What? Why not! You said he was a hottie—what's stopping you?" Patterson lamented, mixing cookie dough in a giant green bowl she'd brought to Jane's apartment. Zapata grabbed the unused wooden spoon from Jane's hand, dipping it into the bowl while Patterson was distracted and popping a little ball of dough into her mouth.
Jane shot Patterson a look that said seriously? "You mean besides my security detail? How am I supposed to explain these tattoos all over me? They're bound to raise a few questions."
"I blame everything on either college or alcohol. And both of those excuses apply to tattoos so, you're good," Zapata concluded, going in for another spoonful of cookie dough as Patterson pulled the bowl to her chest, narrowing her eyes.
"These are not for you, Tasha," Patterson scolded.
"They're for the holiday party. They're for me by default," Zapata threw back.
"And when he asks why Kurt's name is tattooed on my back, what then?" Jane said, ignoring the two women.
It was something Jane thought about more often than she cared to admit. Maybe it was part of the reason she hadn't bothered to let herself be attracted to anyone else. His name was permanently etched on her body—a kind of self-fulfilling prophecy. No other man would understand why, and it was classified at that. How could she even attempt a relationship with someone who wasn't Kurt? Hell, even Oscar seemed hesitant around her, and he'd been her fiancé in her former life.
Patterson set the bowl down at her friend's crestfallen expression. She put her hand on Jane's shoulder, squeezing gently. "Hey, you're jumping to a lot of conclusions here. You're allowed to have fun, you know. Explore your options. Not every fleeting attraction leads to something. And no one is saying you should go round second base with this guy," Patterson advised. Jane scrunched her nose.
Zapata rolled her eyes. "No more pity party-ing. Drink," she demanded, pushing her margarita towards Jane. Jane did as she was told, finishing off the tart concoction in one long swallow. "There you go, that's it. Now, three more of those and maybe we'll get to watch you drunk dial your lawyer friend."
"You guys are terrible influences," Jane said, wincing as Zapata poured her another glass.
Zapata laughed. "Aww, that's what friends are for."
XOX
She held her liquor well enough to stay cognizant of her actions. Zapata and Patterson had departed a short while ago—a fresh pile of Christmas tree and star shaped cookies waiting to be iced tomorrow morning.
Jane sighed, weighing her options. While the attention had been flattering, even as she held Andrew's card, she couldn't bring herself to dial the number. He'd never be able to know her. What would be the point? She shook her head, letting the business card flutter into the trashcan. It would never work, she already knew that. Besides, the only number on her mind was Kurt's.
Maybe she'd been a bit harsh, berating him for putting this distance between them. She'd been tortured—not exactly the best time to bring up their lip lock in any universe. And could she honestly say she hadn't been grateful for the distance, given the revelations the video her disclosed? She hadn't exactly been beating his door down, demanding he speak to her.
Still, he had to stop treating her like she'd break under the slightest pressure.
Her thumb hovered over the '1' on her phone, the speed dial reserved for him, before thinking better of it. She'd made enough moves. If he wanted to talk, he'd have to make the effort.
Jane set the phone aside, pulling the collar of her shirt up over her shoulder, where it had fallen. She'd changed into an artfully oversized gray tee after she'd returned home, in anticipation of being covered in flour and dough. The indigo jeans she'd worn earlier in the day bore the brunt of the white powder, with dusty fingerprints streaked across her thighs.
She turned on the small radio she'd purchased and flipped the faucet handle. Washing the dishes from their earlier cookie exploits would be a welcome distraction for her busy mind. Patterson had offered to do them in the morning when she returned, but Jane had declined. They were all supposed to participate in the making of the cookies—but Tasha had decided eating the dough was more her speed and Jane was about as useful as the broken timer on her stove when it came to baking. So the pair had watched Patterson make them while they drank margaritas.
Washing the dishes for Patterson was the least she could do.
So caught up in her task, she missed the first knock that came at her door. It was quickly followed by another—louder this time. Jane dried her hands, turning the radio down.
She figured it was one of the girls, having forgotten something. She pulled the door open, surprised by her visitor.
"Kurt, what are you doing here?"
He moved to say something when the smell hit him. "Did you…bake?"
The suspicious grin on his face made her purse her lips, wondering if she'd uncovered some new talent. "No, Patterson did. Tasha and I just…drank, mostly."
He looked rather relieved at her explanation. "Can I come in?"
Jane nodded, moving aside to let him pass. He smiled, noting the small Christmas tree on one of her side tables. It was no more than a foot high, but it had tiny rainbow lights glinting from its fake branches, along with miniature, colored glass ornaments.
"Patterson got it for me. And Tasha and Reade got the wreath on my door," Jane said, following his gaze.
He could have taken her to get a real tree. It sat there, on the tip of his tongue. But he knew better than to say it out loud. She could already see it on his face.
"I'm sorry, for putting this…distance, between us," Kurt began, wondering how many times he'd said that to her in the months they'd known each other. "I thought I was helping, Jane."
Jane shrugged a shoulder, moving back into her kitchen. She pulled out two short glasses, grabbing a bottle of bourbon from a shelf—about as close to forgiveness as he was going to get. "It's fine, Kurt. Really. It's not like I made an effort to talk to you these past few weeks. Maybe I needed the space, too. I just…wish you didn't treat me like I'm made of glass."
She slid one of the glasses across the counter. He gave her a wry smile.
"Maybe you are, to me. I've never felt so…protective of someone," he said, taking a sip of the amber liquid. "Sometimes I think that if you break, I'll break with you."
And her abduction was a breaking of a sort. He'd let her go when he should have called her detail, should have driven her home, should have had her come up for dinner. All those possibilities. He'd been too enamored by that kiss to stop and think, and while she hadn't been broken, a part of her had certainly been fractured.
"Kurt…" Jane whispered. She wasn't sure what to say to that. Sometimes she forgot that he was in this as much as she was. He was just as invested, as unsure. Just as scared. "I made that choice. It wasn't your fault. Carter…he would have found another way. There was no stopping him."
He gripped the glass tightly, meeting her wide, beseeching green eyes. "But it had to be that night," he answered back, barely audible.
Had to be the night she so boldly kissed him. Had to be after the first happy memory she'd made of her own volition. Had to be the moment she realized she'd cemented her position within the team, that they accepted her. That she was safe.
This was yet another crime against her he'd fault himself for.
"Please, Kurt, I don't want you to blame yourself for this. And if you're so concerned about my wellbeing, ask me about it. You make these decisions for me, and it's not fair. I don't want you to think giving me space is helpful—it's not. It drives me crazy. If I want you to back off, I'll tell you," she said forcefully, even as she gave him a lopsided grin.
Kurt nodded, accepting her terms. The silence stretched between them, the air becoming thick and heavy. Here they were, alone again. Her pitch-black hair was disheveled, shoved behind her ears in irritation while she'd been baking—or at least, while attempting to help. Her loose shirt draped haphazardly, revealing one graceful, pale shoulder. Streaks of flour dusted the dark denim at her hips, as well as the delicate plane of her cheekbone. He fought the urge to touch her.
She was stunning.
Jane sucked in a quiet breath. The way his eyes roved over her felt entirely different from the way Andrew had appraised her earlier. There was a familiarity in Kurt's gaze that surpassed the underlying lust she'd seen in Andrew's eyes, a deep hunger in his quickly darkening blue depths—like he already knew her. Like she was the only thing he saw.
"Okay," Kurt agreed. He set his empty glass in front of her, suddenly glad the countertop separated them. He was hard pressed to resist the pull she had on him on a good day—right now they were both stewing in emotion. It would be better if he beat a hasty exit before either of them got caught up in something they couldn't undo. "I'll see you tomorrow, Jane."
As much as she wanted to walk him to the door, she couldn't make herself move. Perhaps that was for the best.
He turned back at the threshold, glancing at her tiny tree. "If you don't have plans, I'd like you to spend Christmas, with me."
Jane nodded, biting her lip to stop her growing smile. "I'd like that."
XOX
Jane hesitated outside the door, her fist poised to knock. She'd told Patterson and Tasha about Kurt's offer as they dropped green and red food coloring into the little bowls of icing.
"Sounds like fun," Patterson's eyes glimmered, before going a little distant. This holiday was going to be especially hard for her, but she took a deep breath, grabbing a tree cookie and a dollop of icing. "I'm flying out to see my family, otherwise I would have invited you over."
"I can't even get a date to this holiday party and here Jane is, not even trying, and she's got a guy asking her to spend Christmas with him. Maybe someone should wipe my memories and drop me in Times Square. Apparently it's an aphrodisiac," Zapata said sarcastically.
"Don't even say that," Jane admonished, a bit harsher than she intended. Patterson and Zapata paused, staring at her. "Sorry, I'm just…stressed out. Do I get him a gift, or anything?"
Zapata smiled cleverly. "I know what you could give him."
"Tasha, stop!" Patterson laughed, tossing a few colorful sprinkles at her friend.
"What, they're both single," she began, looking over at Jane. "Besides, it's not like you two don't mentally undress each other as it is. Just…go for it—the sexual tension is killing us. You'd literally be doing us all a favor."
Jane was bright red and speechless, but she couldn't exactly deny that what Zapata had said was exactly what she was thinking.
"And also know that when Monday rolls around, you're telling us everything."
Of course, standing here, now, she felt entirely out of place.
Before she could think about it anymore, she rapped her knuckles on the door, waiting. When no response came, she leaned in closer. She could hear the tv from somewhere beyond it, so they were most certainly home. She knocked again. When the door finally swung open, she was greeted by the smallest Weller.
"Hi," Jane said as the strawberry blonde boy studied her. Recognition seemed to dawn on him.
Sawyer turned to look over his shoulder. "Uncle Kurt! Taylor's here!" he yelled, drawing out each word. Jane flinched, more at the use of the name than the decibel he'd screamed it at. Sarah had introduced her as Taylor, after all. No one had corrected the boy after that fateful dinner months ago.
"Can I come in?" she asked. Sawyer nodded, closing the door behind her. He crossed his arms, eyeing her inquisitively.
"Are you my uncle's girlfriend? Are you gonna kiss him again?"
Jane felt her face burn. She didn't want to lie to the child, but she couldn't exactly be honest either. Hell, she didn't even know the answers to his questions. She opted for distracting him instead. "Here, this is for you," she said, setting down the bag she was carrying and swiftly pulled out a shiny, silver gift-wrapped box.
"Yay, another present!" Sawyer beamed, grabbing the box and unceremoniously plopping on the floor where he stood, the uncomfortable interrogation already forgotten. Jane laughed lightly as he tore into it.
"Sawyer, who was at the—oh, hey!" Sarah smiled, looking flustered as she gave Jane a quick hug. Jane still wasn't used to how affectionate Sarah could be. "Sorry, I forgot Kurt invited you. We were supposed to be gone an hour ago."
"Oh, am I interrupting?" Jane asked, a bit confused. "Kurt told me to come over when I was ready…"
"No, no. Our dad was here earlier to spend Christmas morning with Sawyer. Now we're off to spend the rest of the day with my mom. That is, if someone would finish packing?" Sarah replied, voice rising in a warning at the end of her sentence.
Sawyer ignored her quite splendidly. "Cool—a robot!" the boy shouted. "Mom, look!"
"You didn't have to do that," Sarah said softly. Jane shrugged.
"It is Christmas. I figured it's probably not a good idea to show up empty handed."
"Sawyer, what do you say?" his mother chastised gently.
The boy stood up, briefly hugging Jane around her hips. "Thanks, Taylor."
He unlocked the back of the toy, popping the batteries she'd thought to bring with it into their slots. The eyes glowed blue. "I'm gonna go show Uncle Kurt!"
"Hey kiddo, finish packing!" Sarah called out at his retreating figure. She looked back at Jane. "I'm so sorry, I didn't even think…we only called you Taylor once."
Jane shook her head. "It's okay. I don't want to confuse him."
Sarah paused, looking her over uncertainly. It wasn't okay; she knew that by the discomfort on Jane's face. "Hey, I have something for you," she said, rooting around under the decorated tree that flickered brightly in the corner. Bits of leftover wrapping paper and a few mangled bows littered the floor around it. Sarah stood, offering Jane a small package. "It's not much, but I wanted to get you something."
Jane nodded, peeling back the wrappings. "A camera?"
"I figured, you should start making your own memoires," Sarah intoned, hoping she hadn't overstepped. Jane floundered for a moment, unsure what to say.
"Thank you," she settled for, appreciating the thoughtfulness of the gift. As much as Sarah and Kurt wanted Jane to be Taylor, it seemed at least one of the siblings had come to grips with the idea that if she wasn't, she should be able to create a new life for herself.
She'd given Sarah a card that held a spa certificate inside. Sarah looked delighted at the prospect of a massage, and Jane was crushed in another hug.
Kurt finally appeared with Sawyer on his shoulders, the robot clutched in his hands. Jane's eyes went wide, as did Sarah's. "Kurt Weller, you put him down right now!" Sarah scolded, but it was half-hearted at best.
"Aw mom, but we're just having fun," Sawyer huffed. Kurt laughed at Sarah's dismay, but he knelt down regardless, his sister helping the boy off.
"Yeah mom, we're just having fun," Kurt repeated in the same tone Sawyer had. "It's bad enough Jane upstaged me with a robot, I had to win him back somehow!"
Sarah shot him a look, before rolling her eyes. Jane watched the exchange with interest. "I'm going to grab the rest of his things, no more shoulder rides," Sarah said firmly, heading toward her room.
Kurt still knelt in front of the boy. "Hey bud, listen to me," he began. Sawyer glanced up at him. "You can't talk about Taylor at grandma's, okay?"
"But what about my robot? Can I take him with me?"
"Yeah, you can. Just um, if grandma asks, you tell her Jane got it for you, okay?" Kurt said clearly, knowing this was confusing the child.
"But why?"
"Because…Taylor likes to be called Jane," he said casually. It wasn't a lie. "It's her middle name. She likes it better."
"Okay," Sawyer replied, already bored with the conversation.
"All right Sawyer, time to go, say bye to Uncle Kurt and Jane," Sarah announced, Sawyer's back pack in her hand, a small duffle bag of her own in the other. She set them down to pull on her coat and turned to Kurt, speaking low. "I'll call you when we get to mom's. She's gonna want to know why you bailed…"
Kurt sighed, running a hand over his face. "Just…tell her I had to work, okay? Have fun, and be careful, it looks like it's gonna get bad out there."
Sarah shook her head, wrapping her arms around her big brother. She pulled back, squeezing his upper arms as she watched Sawyer explain what the robot could do to a mildly fascinated Jane. "You have fun too, okay? You deserve it…so does she. Just…try not to be so…you."
"You're a terrible sister."
She tilted her head to the side, scrunching her nose. "But you love me."
"Yeah, yeah." Kurt said, handing her the colorful scarf that was draped over the couch.
Sarah quickly bundled up Sawyer, under his great protests. "Bye Uncle Kurt, bye Jane," he waved as they made their way onto the elevator.
Suddenly, the two of them alone together seemed final and considerably awkward.
She turned to Kurt, pushing her hair behind her ear nervously. "So…what do you usually do for Christmas," Jane asked, desperate to fill the growing silence.
"Well, I figured you probably couldn't remember any classic Christmas movies, so I thought we could start with that, if you wanted," Kurt said, moving to the table and grabbing a stack of DVDs.
"Probably a fair place to start," Jane admitted, unable to recall any of the movies he offered as she scanned the titles. She picked at an imaginary spot on the deep, emerald green button down she'd chosen. One of Patterson's immediate suggestions after she'd told them about his invitation. Paired with both her favorite black jeans and the new ankle boots Tasha had talked her into, she felt rather confident.
And if his lingering gaze was any indication, she'd chosen well.
"Did you want anything? We've got coffee, egg nog, hot chocolate," Kurt rattled off, moving to the kitchen. He held up what Jane assumed was a pancake, but was so blackened and stiff she couldn't be sure. "Sarah's attempt at breakfast."
"I think I'm okay," Jane replied, grimacing at the sad pancake.
"Don't worry, I'm cooking for us later," Kurt laughed at her expression. "What's in this giant bag of yours, anyway?"
An extra set of clothes, in case she stayed the night. Not that she was going to tell him that. The girls had encouraged her to pack—for any scenario. And she'd paid attention to the forecast this morning.
She cleared her throat, trying to squash the feeling of embarrassment. "Well, Sawyer's gift was pretty big, and there's some cookies Patterson made, and maybe a bottle of bourbon," she answered him weakly. He had to know she was leaving out a good portion of what the bag contained by the way his eyes sparkled.
He decided to put her out of her misery. "Relax, Jane. I called your security detail, told them to take the day after they dropped you off. You're more than welcome to stay the night, if you want. Doubt you'd be able to get home anyway," he said, nodding toward the window.
Her forehead creased, turning to the glass pane. Snow flurried in dizzying patterns just outside of it, sticking to every surface it touched.
"Wow," she gasped, her sudden ire at him already forgotten. "It's beautiful."
She felt him approach. "It really is," he agreed softly, placing a gentle hand on the small of her back. She refused to look at him—she knew instinctively he wasn't talking about the blizzard brewing outside.
"So…maybe we start with this movie," Jane said, anxiously grabbing one of the titles at random. Kurt nodded, backing away just slightly at her reaction.
"Miracle On 34th Street it is, then."
XOX
They managed to power through Home Alone before Jane started to get restless. Quite frankly, Kurt wasn't fairing much better. They weren't used to sitting still for so long.
Sarah had called halfway through their second movie, letting Kurt know they'd made it safely, and then he spent twenty minutes arguing with his mother about why he failed to show up and if it was because of this Jane girl her grandson kept prattling on about. Overhearing a good portion of the phone call, Jane bit her lip several times to keep from laughing.
"So, what's next?" Jane inquired as he turned off the tv.
"Dinner, drinks," Kurt replied. .
"I'll grab the bourbon," she said quietly, moving to sift through the bag she'd brought. Once she'd acquired the bottle, she found two crystal glasses and offered a hearty pour in each. Not like they were going anywhere.
"I'll be right back," Kurt said, taking a sip of the bourbon before excusing himself.
In his absence, she found herself once again staring out the window, captivated by the snow. Jane hesitated, setting her glass down before opening the door to his balcony and stepping outside. Having no memory of the powdery substance, she felt an incredible desire to touch it, to feel how cold it really was. The bitter wind and icy snow pelted her delicate skin, stinging her cheeks as a sharp shiver went down her spine. She smiled through it all, tilting her head back and feeling childish as she stuck out her tongue like they'd done in the movies she'd just watched, hoping to catch snowflakes.
It was freeing and almost blissful, standing alone in the eerie silence that hovered over the city.
Kurt felt the cool breeze first, goosebumps rising on his skin. There was his beautiful partner, face turned toward the sky and backlit by the setting sun. He shook his head, somehow thinking that would clear his wandering mind.
"Jane?" Kurt called, following her path out onto the balcony, worry in his tone. "What are you doing?"
Jane whipped around. The smile still lit her face, even as her teeth chattered violently. Kurt grabbed her arm, pulling her inside and closing the doors behind her, eyes skimming over her as if she'd lost her mind. A small burst of laughter erupted from deep in her throat as he cupped her snow-stung face with his too-warm hands.
"I wanted to know how the snow felt," she gasped, shivering. Kurt moved his hands to her shoulders, rubbing her arms to garner some kind of warmth before pulling her into his chest. "I couldn't remember."
She felt the rumble of his laughter against her ear. "You could have just asked. We could have gone outside, with appropriate winter clothes on. Didn't have to go getting yourself pneumonia, Jane."
Jane shrugged. "Seemed like…a good idea at the time."
"C'mon, sit by the heater for a few minutes, drink your bourbon—you'll be good as new," Kurt chuckled, rubbing her back. He grabbed a blanket off the couch, wrapping it around her securely. "I'll get dinner started."
Kurt barely began prepping dinner when the lights dimmed overhead, flickering twice, before going out.
"What's going on?" Jane asked, immediately tensing.
Kurt ran a hand through his hair, muttering a curse below his breath. "Power lines probably froze. Happens sometimes."
"What do we do?"
"Light candles and wait," Kurt sighed, grabbing a box from under the sink. "Start lighting these. Could just be for a little while, or we could be in for the long haul."
Suddenly, she was very glad she'd packed that extra set of clothes.
XOX
The candles cast a soft glow amongst the couple seated on the floor.
Resting back against the couch, Jane passed the half empty bottle of bourbon to him—their dinner amounting to Patterson's Christmas cookies and whatever alcohol was lying around his apartment.
Soft music emanated from his phone, lying in the middle of the coffee table.
"Why did you invite me over for Christmas?" Jane asked, breaking the comfortable silence they'd settled into. "You obviously had plans—with your family, no less."
"But you didn't," Kurt replied. "There's no way I could let you celebrate your first Christmas alone, Jane."
She smiled at that, tilting her head. "I would have been okay."
Kurt realized he believed her. Having Tasha and Patterson as her friends, allies, had made her feel more accepted, less like the odd man out. The quiet of her safe house no longer felt so lonely. She'd changed, she'd grown, developed a distinct sense of self in such a small amount of time.
"I know," he agreed, even as she shot him an incredulous look. "But I wouldn't have been. I'd have spent the entire day thinking about you…wouldn't have been able to enjoy it."
A smirk touched her lips at his words. "So you think about me a lot?"
He watched the mirth dance in her eyes, made brave by the liquor in her system, no doubt. "More than I should," he answered honestly. Her playful smile ebbed away just a fraction at his serious tone.
"What do you imagine," She chewed her lip, her gaze hitting the floor. "When you're thinking about me?"
He nearly repeated his earlier sentiment.
More than I should.
"Us," he answered candidly. It wasn't exactly a startling revelation. She had to know that. She consumed nearly every thought he had, wedged herself into every corner of his mind. "I imagine us, Jane. What we are, what we could be. I think about how incredibly jealous I was of the Suit you flirted with and why I had no right to be. I think about that kiss, and where it could have gone if we weren't interrupted. I think about how I could never regret that moment, and that I certainly don't want to forget it."
Jane tugged the blanket he'd placed around her shaking shoulders earlier tighter to her body, shivering from something other than cold. She licked her lips, the candlelight lending itself to the suddenly charged atmosphere. They always ended up here, teetering on the edge of everything that could be until reality inevitably pulled them apart.
But there was nothing beckoning them tonight. No work call, no poorly timed nephew, no prying colleagues—no fear of rejection. And Jane realized in that moment he'd done all of this for her. He'd found the perfect setting, the perfect excuse, for them to decide what they were, how far they wanted to take this thing between them.
She felt herself flush at the unexpected implication. Jane cleared her throat, shifting closer to him. "Why me, Kurt? What do you see, in me?"
The question had fallen from her lips before she even had the chance to think about it. Something about the reason he'd invited her here catapulted her desire to know why—why her? Of all the other women he'd surely been with, what made her so special? The damaged blank slate with more secrets than truths, more questions than answers. He'd claimed to be too choosy as they danced in a mansion, dressed to the nines, posing as husband and wife. Too choosy to settle down and marry a fantastically beautiful and completely suitable woman like Alison. What was he waiting for? What was he looking for?
Kurt blinked, his eyes shuttering just a bit. "I…I don't know, Jane."
A blinding sadness crossed her face, and she recoiled just the slightest.
Taylor.
Would just she ever be enough? Would he not choose her, like he hadn't chosen Alison, if her fears were confirmed and she was just a stranger with no visible connection to him after all? Would he not want her, then, when he could no longer see the lost girl from his past inside her? When he knew the truth of the video?
Jane swallowed the knot in her throat, looking away. He hadn't brought up Taylor in awhile, and even though he hadn't said her name aloud, she could see it lurking just below the surface.
"If you're doing this…if the only reason you're letting yourself feel something for me is because you think…or you hope…that I'm her…" Jane blinked away the tears that rose, forcing out the words. "Then that's not fair, to me."
The truth was Kurt hadn't thought about Jane as Taylor since she'd kissed him. In fact, he hadn't thought about Taylor at all, really…not in weeks. His focus remained solely on the woman before him. He wasn't sure why that realization displaced him as much as it did.
Was this a kind of closure? Was it moving on or letting go? Had he spent so long clinging to the desperate hope of finding that little girl that he'd missed all his chances, and Jane was the universe telling him to give up the ghost?
Had she been sent to save him?
He reached up, cupping her cheek. "No, Jane. What I feel for you…that has nothing to do with who you could be, and everything to do with who you are," he whispered, catching one of her tears with his thumb.
Jane met his gaze, searching for any sign he was pacifying her. But he wasn't. For the first time he let her see past the walls he kept so high.
Her smile was watery, her face turning pink beneath his palm as she cleared her throat, not sure what to say to that. "I, um…I didn't get you anything, for Christmas. Nothing seemed…right. Couldn't think of anything you wanted."
"I don't need anything, Jane. I already have what I want."
Coming from any other man, it would have sounded like a line. The sincerity with which he said it, and the way he gazed at her so reverently, she knew it was the god's honest truth.
"I don't…not yet," Jane said, a bit breathlessly.
"What do you want, Jane?"
What does she want?
She wants to know what kind of person she really is. She simultaneously wants her memories back, and also hopes they never return. She needs to know why she chose Kurt Weller, if she loved him before she knew him, if she's the little lost girl he can't let go of, if she's a con-woman in disguise. But mostly…
"I want you."
Who was he, to deny her that which she wanted most?
His lips were slanting over hers as the last word left her mouth. She returned the kiss with equal fervor, one hand fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer as the other wrapped around his neck. Her tongue traced his bottom lip, demanding he let her in, and he did, without pause. The hand that had once cupped her face now wove its way through her hair, traced around to her neck, drifted over her collarbone.
Jane fought the burning in her lungs, tried to staunch the need to breathe for as long as she could. She was afraid to break the kiss, afraid to end the moment that was everything she wanted their previous encounter to be before it had been ripped away. He seemed to read her mind, easing away from her as they both gasped for air, despite her protests.
"I'm not going anywhere," he breathed across her cheek, the stubble of his beard sending a maddening shiver down her spine. Kurt cast a glance out the window once more, the snow falling in a steady holding pattern. "We're not going anywhere."
He watched her eyes go dark, her shy demeanor shifting into something un-nameable.
Kurt eased up from his position on the floor. He held out his hand and she took it, coming to stand a breath away from him. Gently brushing a lock of her hair over her ear, he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead, her cheekbone, her jawline. His fingers skimmed her sides, running the length of her torso and back up her ribcage through the thin material of her shirt—touching everywhere but where she wanted him too. Winding her up and playing with her senses, he nearly laughed at the anxiousness vibrating off of her. He would most certainly pay for this later.
Guiding her backwards, he held her waist firmly so she didn't trip in the darkness of the unfamiliar space, Jane's lips never leaving his. She felt her back hit something solid—a door, maybe a wall. Her nimble fingers attacked his shirt, a frustrated sound coming from deep in her throat as she tugged at the buttons and wished she could just rip the damn shirt off of him. He wasn't fairing any better with her shirt, and they both laughed at the ridiculousness of the moment. Felled by buttons—they had to be setting a record for the most awkwardly interrupted make-out's ever.
Jane closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. Slow down, she chastised herself. He's not going anywhere…least of all without you.
She leaned up, kissing him slowly, deeply, injecting every ounce of passion she felt into it, returning to the buttons and maneuvering them out of their tiny slots with a more graceful hand. His shirt fell away, dropping to the floor and followed shortly by hers.
She'd really have to thank Patterson and Tasha.
Jane could tell he hadn't been expecting the exquisite black and sapphire lace balconette to be hiding beneath the emerald top. It had cost a pretty penny, but she was quite happy she'd bought the not-so-necessary bra.
I guarantee you, if you wear this, he's going to lose it. It'll be the most rewarding ten seconds of gawking you'll ever have, before it ends up on the floor with everything else, Tasha had stated the night before.
And boy, was she right.
The seductive article of non-clothing was gone before she could fully enjoy his surprised expression.
"Remind me to give them a raise," Kurt muttered, pulling her from the wall and walking her back towards what she could only assume was his bedroom. Apparently, he found it necessary to thank her two cohorts as well.
He kissed down her neck, biting gently here and there, careful not to leave any suspicious marks. Kurt felt suddenly grateful she was covered in tattoos. His thoughts were cut short as she went for his belt, and they crossed the threshold of his room.
He kicked the door closed, ending all connection to the outside world.
XOX
Dawn was just breaking when she shifted next to him, curling into him as much as she could. The motion woke him from his light sleep. Who was he kidding, like he could have slept after that.
It was probably his favorite Christmas to date, and he doubted she had any complaints either. And while no gifts had been exchanged, he certainly believed she'd given him the best one of all. Her trust. Her love.
Because while it was soon—too soon for words like that—he knew.
Kurt brushed a strand of unruly hair away from her face, letting his fingertips graze the bird on her neck before coming to rest on her shoulder.
She slept soundly, peacefully.
Kurt smiled—a real, face splitting, happy smile. "You want to know why I chose you, Jane," he whispered to the beautiful woman in his arms, returning to the question she'd asked him earlier. "You want to know what it is I see in you?"
He rested his head back against the pillow, grabbing the hand of hers lying over his heart. His eyes fell closed, breathing deeply.
"I see the future. Our future. Everything."
Succumbing to sleep, he never saw the lovely smile touching the edges of her lips.
Jane glanced up, whispering softly.
"So do I."