Everything but Temptation
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS; it is the property of its respective creators.
"I can resist everything but temptation."-Oscar Wilde
The story of Eve and the apple is from the Bible. No copyright infringement is intended to either of these works.
Written for the No Names and Women of NCIS challenges on NFA.
Spoilers: Set in a vague late season 7 to early season 8 timeline. No spoilers for either season.
A big 'thank you' goes out to tigyr for beta-reading this.
Warning: There is a line in this story that infers blink-and-you'll-miss-it dubious consent. Only that one line, but please don't read this if that upsets you.
There is also an implied sexual relationship of two of age consenting characters. It happens off screen, but again, if you don't like that, please do not read. Thanks, and enjoy!
"We can not keep doing this."
"This is the last time."
They both know the words are for show. They knew better before they ever let it go past flirting and sly glances. Knowing better didn't stop them the first time, or the second, and so on.
What's that quote? "I can resist everything but temptation." It was in a movie, surely, but he has no idea which at the moment. That about sums it up, though. Everything but temptation.
Work will start soon. She is glad she put an extra outfit in her backpack. She does not want to deal with the others questions. He brushes her shoulder on his way into the bathroom.
Goosebumps startle her with their abrupt and unwelcome visit to her skin. She hates the power he now holds over her, but not enough to stop.
She is Eve, she has tasted the forbidden fruit and she will welcome damnation for just one more bite. Now though, she must figure out where they discarded her shoes last night.
The first time was when he found her crying in the gym. It was late, and everyone else had already left to go do whatever they did to try and forget. The case had been brutal, and everyone had been on edge. He had been worried about her. The case must have hit her the hardest out of them all. And that was saying something; the back of his head hadn't hurt so much in years.
He'd seen that her car was still in the garage when he went to get his overnight bag, so he'd checked the usual places. She hadn't gone home with the others, he'd phoned them. She wasn't in the men's room, the hallway, the lab, or the morgue. Most of the building was locked this time of night on a weekend, but he knew she could break into someplace with their simple locks in her sleep, while wounded. (And why were their locks so simple? He'd have to do something about that.)
Finally, the gym was the only place left. And there she was. Her knuckles were bloody from pounding the punching bag with no gloves on to protect them, her hair was a sweaty, tangled mess, and her face was swollen from tears and the effort not to shed them. He'd thought she'd looked beautiful.
Somewhere in between sitting next to her and holding her while she cried, muttering words that held no true comfort, she'd kissed him. And he'd kissed her back. Then stopped because, "she was upset and he wouldn't take advantage of her."
And she'd laughed a wet, broken, humorless laugh in his face. Her wild, tangled, brown hair had followed her as her brown-eyed gaze pieced and held his green one.
"You would not be the first person to take advantage of me. And this time I'll welcome it."
Her slightly manic smile had faded at the sorrow and compassion on his face. A missing piece to the puzzle of understanding her had been added, and he didn't like how much it explained.
It took her one word to break his resolve, and more courage than it took for her to kill to say it.
"Please."
The drive to his apartment was quiet. The night wasn't.
After, he'd held her and she'd slept safely in his arms until sunrise.
That was the first time.
There wasn't a 'rain or reason' to when it happened. It didn't take a hard case or a bad day, and sometimes when those days did happen they needed to be alone. Sometimes they just needed to feel less alone, which led to bed, or some nights just two friends watching a movie. She liked them all.
They've given up saying it was the last time. They both knew it wasn't. When she stopped to truly think about it, she wasn't sure why it hadn't just been a one-time thing on that desperate night when she needed to feel alive, and he'd answered her plea.
It could have been. They could have gone back to their friendship-partnership on eggshells, flirting on something more thing of before. She thinks that, but she knows better.
When he is injured and her heart stops for a second and her vision goes red, she knows why they couldn't go back to just friendship, why it wasn't just one desperate night.
When she has to stop herself from pounding the dirtbag that hurt her partner into the ground, when she rushes to the hospital, breaking all traffic laws to see for herself that it is truly just a shoulder wound, a through-and-through, when she avoids the knowing blue eyes watching her, the feel of their burning gaze on her back, she knows.
That night, after she has reassured herself that he is alive, and mostly unharmed, she knows that this will not stop until something forces it to. She knows that a mere taste of this forbidden fruit on that night would never have been enough; for either of them.
They're playing with fire, and someone, one of them, maybe both of them, will get burned. They will not stop, though. The fire has yet to touch them, and together, they feel alive.
His green eyes seek out her brown ones. She squeezes the hand of his uninjured arm. Yes, Eve was damned for eating the forbidden apple. But the taste of something so amazing was worth the inevitable fallout. It had to be.
Written May 18th, 2011
Valerie Portolano