Shelter from the Storm

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Standard fanfic disclaimers apply.

a/n I found this on my hard drive the other night. When I wrote it I was highly criticized for Joe bashing, so I put it away and forgot about it. But after reading 18, it just seemed apropos. And well, I still think it's amusing. LOL. Enjoy.

[Cupcake warning?] No spoilers. Rating changed to M.

Obviously it is out of order, should go right at the beginning of the story group. Zoë is newborn...

Chapter Eighteen - Dream a Little Dream

[Ranger]

I woke up and I was pounding away like a freight train into some poor girl. I lifted my head out of her neck and took a look. Oh shit! Stephanie? Babe?

My body seemed to know what it wanted to do and my hips kept humping hard and fast. I looked into Steph's eyes, trying for a quick mind read and I got a figurative yawn and Ho hum, Joe, can you just finish already? Then she started a list of chores for tomorrow.

What. The. Fuck?

I slowed down and she murmured, "Joe?" I was gonna say, no, babe it's me, but I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the back of the open closet door (open closet door? I never leave the door…) And there I was/ he was—Joseph Morelli's pale-skinned body and messy hair, his grungy sheets, his unvacuumed faded rug, his hairy white ass, his teeny tiny little dick…you get the picture…were fucking my babe. And I was in Joe's head.

I slowed down even more and Stephanie heaved a big sigh. "Are you done?"

"No, not yet, um, Cupcake." I shifted my weight onto one forearm so I could use my other hand to tilt her face up to mine, get a better angle. I kissed her slow. Hot. Deep. Her sighs turned to sighs.

Meanwhile I felt around in my mind for Morelli. Nope, he was AWOL, elsewhere, nada. And I looked at myself a bit more in the mirror, as I kissed my way down Steph's throat to her collarbone, a nip, a lick, another kiss. Yeah, baby—she was squirming now. My tongue touched her nipple and she bucked under me, I whispered something and she settled down while I worked her breasts.

Still doing the corner of the eye thing though…okay, my body wasn't so bad. I had hair on my ass and my back though, yuck! My biceps were bulging nicely and my white ass flexed without jiggling. Hmmm. I did the hip thrust again and Steph screamed, "OhJoeohJoe Oh—ah?" Ranger? she thought.

"Shush, mi corazon, es solamente un sueno—it is just a dream, enjoy." I slid my free hand down her satiny body, touched her like I remembered she loved. My mouth followed my hand's path and we shifted positions. Once more, then again. I sensed her puzzlement but when I entered her again using Morelli's apparently trademark hip thrust, she accepted me [him?] with sensuous abandon. She wrapped her pretty long legs around my waist and we went on to new heights of pleasure—at least for her with Joe.

…

Afterward, she rolled away from me to her side of the bed. Stunned and rejected, I hiked up on one elbow and looked at her. I said, "What's wrong, come here, ba-uh, Cupcake."

"Why?"

"So I can hold you while we sleep." I loved to hold her in my arms; to bury my face in her sweetly fragranced wild curly hair and drift off to oblivion.

"Joseph Morelli! Who have you been sleeping with? Because sure as shit in the ten or so years you've been screwing me, you never once wanted to cuddle." Stephanie sat up and stared down at me, mad. Really mad. "And when did you learn Spanish? Is this some sort of ploy to make me think about Ranger? What the hell…?"

"Do you think about Ranger? When we make love?" I couldn't resist asking.

"Morelli, we—you and I—do not make love, we have sex! Generally nice, athletic, balls to the wall, cannoli spouting, Cupcake frosting, wild monkey shagging sex. But making love—ha!"

We don't? I mean, you and Morelli don't? Then why…?

I said, "And with Ranger?"

"Ranger has no place here in our bed, Joe."

That's what you think, babe.

"Goodnight, Joe!" She rolled away again and went to sleep. Oh well. I'd get back to her later but for now I carefully examined the dim room. Okay...Gun on night table - check. Loaded. Check. Cell phone - check—um, not check. I could use his Beretta if I had to but I needed my own phone.

After a moment's thought I leaned across Steph and snagged her cell out of its charger. I whispered, "My phone died, I'm going to use yours, okay?" She nodded in her sleep. I got out of bed and hesitated, then pulled on a pair of Morelli's faded, not-very clean jeans. I went down to the kitchen and called Tank. Whispered, "This is an emergency! See if you can locate Morelli."

Pause, then, "Boss, the tracker we keep on him—it's inside his cop shield—says he is at home-at his house. Ah—Stephanie is there too."

I hung up. Shit! Shit shit shit!

I sat at his kitchen table and rubbed my eyes, trying to keep calm enough to access my stealth half-brother Anthony.

Yo.

Yo, dude.

Can you hear me? Feel me?

Sure.

Am I—me?

Um, yeah. You been snarfing those magic mushrooms, man? I thought you gave that shit up years ago, that shit'll fry your brain, hermano.

No! No drugs, something—worse! Look, Antonio, you gotta try hard, look at me! Can you see me?

You gotta stand in front of a mirror, man, you know that. I can't just, like, see you. Geez.

I sighed and went into the powder room, turned on the bright lights. Stared at myself—well at him—Morelli—in the mirror.

Anthony thought, Dude. Oh ugly tattoo.

I heard the microwave ding. I hissed, Go back to sleep, I'll catch you later.

'Kay. Antonio out…ciao, baby.

…. ….. …

I pulled out the Beretta and racked the slide, chambering a round. God, I hope he keeps his gun cleaner than he does this house, I thought.

In the kitchen was a scrawny old white woman, all red hair and Botox. Familiar—oh. JE. JE, my—our—handler, I guess you could call her.

I sat down and aimed the Beretta between her frozen eyebrows. I said coldly, "What's going on, Janet?"

She tried to smile but I out-stared her. Finally she explained, "I couldn't ruin the series for the Cupcake contingent, but poor Stephanie is so miserable, Joe is a washout in bed and besides she's in love with you! So—I put you in his body." She smiled, an obnoxious satisfied cat-smile. I wanted to smack her.

I said, "I don't like his body! And this house is a pigsty!"

She smirked. "Waxing? Tanning salon? Good barber? A few sessions at Armani…ah, um,—Merry Maids twice a week?"

I said, "Plastic surgeon, lady? Look at this effin' tattoo." I gestured to my eagle-emblazoned hairy chest with the Beretta. The wings spread from nipple to nipple and if the damn bird crapped it would fill up my bellybutton. And it was bright red and royal blue!

JE said, "The hairy white ass is worse, you just can't see it."

I said, "The tattoo has to go."

"Oh okay, " said JE. "I'll write it out, I'll say it was a decal for an undercover sting."

"A decal that lasted 4—or 15—years, Janet?"

"Who's counting?" she shrugged.

"A lot of people, " I answered. "Less each year but still."

She looked offended and opened her mouth to reply, but I held up my hand in a stop motion and we both listened. JE whispered, "What is that sound? A baby crying?"

I listened too. Omigod, Zoë.

I sat up in a hurry and JE faded. We were in my bedroom—our bedroom—at Haywood Street, Stephanie cuddled against my side. I got up and went quickly to the nursery, picking up my wet and starving little princess.

A different unreality took over my mind. But a good one.

I changed Zoë and put her in a clean onesie. I can't believe I have to say 'onesie'. But what the hell else can I call it? Her little footie, stretchy sleepy pink thing? It has a freakin' pink giraffe on the front. Poor baby, I might not be the only one here with nightmares.

I microwaved a bottle for a few secs then we traipsed back to the master suite. Steph immediately curled tight to my chest on one side of me and Zoë nestled in the crook of my other arm, my hand aiming the bottle nipple into her tiny rosebud mouth. She sighed and crooned and slurped.

Steph crooned too and she woke up a little, said sleepily, "Are you okay, Ranger? Is Zoë?"

"Ssshhhh. I'm fine. We're all fine. Zoë's right here."

"What a good baby, Zoë! Did Daddy change you, you smell so nice," murmured Steph, half conscious.

I said again, "Everything is fine, babe." We're safe. It was just an awful dream….

She asked, "Did the baby wake you up?"

"No."

"What then? A nightmare?"

I leaned down and kissed the top of her head, then kissed Zoë too for good measure. I said, "You can't begin to imagine, babe."

the end of the story: because even badass mercenaries have nightmares—sometimes.

series tbc