She slips her key into the lock and turns slowly, hoping to limit the sound of her entrance. It's late, very late, and the loft is immersed in shadow and silence. She tiptoes into the hall and lightly drops her keys into the bowl on the table just beside the door. There's no point in turning on the lights. She knows how to navigate in the dark without trouble because she's done this dance more times than she can count.
A part of her wishes she hadn't. That she'd lumber around with inexperience as she came home from a late night at work, muddled by the abnormality of the loft cast in darkness. But she's not. This is practiced, routine, something she's long grown used to. Though only now does she resent it in a way she never had before.
Her shoes come off at the door so the heels don't clank against the solid wood. Her coat goes in the hall closet, which she closes deliberately slow, minimizing the clicking of the mechanisms within the knob. She tiptoes barefoot past the kitchen, careful to avoid the chair which someone always seems to leave untucked from the table. And she makes her way up the stairs with agile steps.
The bedroom is darker than the rest of the apartment, shuttered in for the night, but she can just make out his form tangled in the lilac sheets.
He's breathing softly, his hair tousled, limbs splayed out across the bed. Ruggedly handsome as ever. Maybe more so now, the gray at his temples lending character to his features.
She sheds her work clothes and pulls on one of his oversized t-shirts. Climbing into bed, she takes care not to jostle the mattress too much as she slips under the covers and slides towards his warmth.
"Mmm, you're home," he mumbles, lifting his head to look at her through half-closed eyes. So much for not waking him. "Did you catch the bad guys?"
"Of course," she whispers. "Now go back to sleep. It's late."
"Too late, I'm awake," he says, very clearly not awake, and turns on his side, pulling her close to spoon into the curve of his body.
"What kept you?"
"Suspect put up a fight, had to file a report." She rests her head on his bicep and wriggles to get comfortable.
"You okay?"
"'Course, took him down easy enough."
"God, you are sexy."
"I even got to use my handcuffs," she teases, nipping his arm with her teeth.
"So hot," he murmurs before burying his head in her hair and inhaling. She misses this. Laying in his arms, being enveloped by his body, just being still. Together without the rush of daily life tugging them left and right. It's been too long since they slowed down, since she's felt her heart beat in time with his. She longs to rekindle that connection, the spark that got dimmed by distractions and obligations.
"Yeah?"
"Oh yeah."
"Then show me."
He pulls her hair from her shoulder and feathers a kiss on her neck. The whisper of his breath against her skin sends a shiver down her spine.
"Bossy tonight."
She nods, cheeky grin and all, as she turns her body to face his.
"What happened to 'go back to sleep'?"
"Sleep is overrated."
Her tongue darts out in a taunt, so he goes chasing after it with his mouth, locking her in a war of lips and teeth and tongue.
He settles above her, the weight of his body a welcome pressure with her legs hooked around his waist.
She slides her fingers along his back, scratching her nails in a figure eight under his shirt, bunching it up under his shoulders. But he still has her pinned and shows no sign cooperating with her plans to divest him because he seems more intent on sampling the skin of her throat where the neck of her oversized shirt allows him access. He runs his palm up the length of her bare thigh leaving goosebumps in its wake and she feels the stress of the day scrubbed away with his touch.
When he grinds into her she can't help the whimper that escapes and she pulls his face back up to hers so she can have something to do other than paw at him urgently.
Her ears perk up at the padding of feet in the hallway.
"Mommy?" A voice asks tentatively from the doorway to their bedroom.
"Fuck," he grunts for only her to hear as he stills and rolls away.
She takes a ragged breath, pushing the hair back from her face as she attempts to do the same to the clawing arousal still stirring in her core. After a beat, she sits up cross-legged to acknowledge the timid little girl peeking her head through the door, which she'd carelessly left open.
"Hey baby, come here," she coaxes, patting the bed beside her.
The five-year old scurries forward with a sleepy smile, hops onto the mattress and throws herself into her mother's arms.
"I missed you mommy."
"Oh Jo-Jo I missed you too." She hugs her tight, brushing her fingers through the girl's soft, chocolate brown hair.
"Daddy, mommy's home." Kate's heart breaks a little. Because she should have been home to tuck her into bed. Her daughter shouldn't have to miss her.
"I told you she would be sweetheart," Rick says, now sitting up next to them.
"I had a bad dream."
"I'm sorry baby, how can I make it better?" She hugs her just a bit tighter and rubs her back in circles to soothe the tension.
"Make Daddy tell a joke," she says, voice muffled by the fact that her face is still firmly mashed against her mother's shirt.
Kate rolls her eyes. As if he needs permission to tell jokes – usually bad ones. But she plays along, shaking her head in amusement.
"Alright Daddy, tell girly a joke."
Rick regards her with a sly smile.
"Okay then, knock knock."
Jo squirms with delight and removes herself from Kate's embrace just enough to peek out and answer, "Who's there?"
"Interrupting cow."
"Interrupting cow wh-"
"MOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Rick blares while he reaches out to tickle his already giggling daughter. She shrieks and clings to Kate for support, her wild convulsing toppling them both back against the pillows.
As Jo's joyous laughter fills the room, Kate's joins her, until the entire family melts into a cackling mass of limbs. All thoughts of nightmares and late nights at the precinct banished by a soaring cheer.
When they recover enough to breath, Rick catches her eye and winks.
"Again! Again! Again!" Jo bounces between them.
He smirks and lifts his eyebrow. Permission?
"If you must," she replies, her face flushed with delight at the effortless glee of their little girl.
"Alright, knock knock..."
And as her daughter dissolves into another round of uncontrollable giggling, Kate muses on interruptions.
Maybe they aren't so bad after all.
A/N - So there you have it. I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks to dave-ck, fooxoo, and trinxy for all their help and support.
As always please review. I really do want to hear your thoughts, so don't be shy. Remember "like," "dislike," or a dissertation on the meaning of life, I cherish every review I get.
Fight On and You'll Never Walk Alone