... ... ... IN THEIR TEENS ... ... ...
Thoroughly kissing. Thoroughly touching. Ridding of some clothes to find themselves topless, bare chest to bare breast. And back to thoroughly exploring the skin. Doing that at the back seat of his car late after work, compensating for the lack of sensual contact during the day. While inviting him home - not yet, it'd be totally sleepless night than. But sleep is very important.
Thus, messed up he headed back to his place, feeling like a happy but delinquent teenager, switched roles with his daughter. Eluding greetings, foremost he hid in the bathroom to groom himself and change... his spoiled pants.
All past months he behaved strangely. But last week was just unbearable. Wreathed in smiles and almost singing. "What the fuck is going on?" Eva wondered. "Is he in love? Who is she?!" But asking her dad straight ahead she didn't dare so far, relieved when he gone to work, because that his shine plainly blinded.
Well, he had a reason for that besides making out before bed. Those last early mornings he was also advisedly let into her apartment to feast on each other on the sofa for fifteen minutes at least. No sex itself, but the same fleshy exploring, and orgasming is not forbidden. Teased enough and noone hurt, pleased enough and noone deprived. That thriving corrupted. Delightfully and dangerously.
Nevertheless, surprisingly they arrived in time at the department and functioned sane and mindful for job cases and details. But a single free moment to set - and they inflamed. "Fire! Fire!" someone could have legally joked. And yes, they didn't bother to cover they are finally moving somewhere from just blatant staring. They came together and left holding hands. Adorable to watch. Even Platt's heart secretly melting. Even Voight smirking at the sight of them.
"We need to talk," Eva informed. Her dad took a seat at the kitchen table of their home, while the girl stood and looked at him from her full youth height. "When will you get us acquainted?"
"Who?" he was taken aback.
"What woman... who makes you... beam... and hum. I can't take it anymore! Don't remember you like this even with mom when all was good. I need to know who you spend time with. With all respect. But, please, respect me too."
God damn, who raised that girl?! "Detective in blood, and tough, and regardful..." that guilty for his lately 'outrageous' behavior woman would then giggly say. "She's totally your daughter!"
But here he sat, bewildered and faltering, "I will... we just... began... seeing each other. But I will... We we'll... dinner sometime altogether... But you've met her already actually."
"I knew!"
And how could she know?! Detective in blood, god damn it. Yet, he didn't want his daughter to follow in father's footsteps. "Good then. Are we done? Good night, sweetie." So he escaped the continuation of that awkward and exposing talk.
This time he did. But soon there would be another one with his kid, much more awkward. About sex. And not between teenagers, but between mature people. What is love and what is sex, how these things coincide, how and when to do all right and when you know you love someone. An unthinkable and the most complicated conversation he'd ever had. But that also came much revealing for himself...