Note: I know this is chapter 9 of 13 so it's a little late for an Intermission, but that's how I view this chapter. A quick Season 3 emotions check before delving into Season 4 angst. You'll notice that the tense is different- I originally wrote this as a stand alone one-shot, but thought it fit perfectly here.
Chapter 9- The Scarlet Shadow (3.17) 2/13/94
He wants her.
This feeling doesn't surface often, carefully hidden away under layers of constructed, inherent rules. She is his best friend, partner, and confidant, untouchable for all the right reasons. Everything he's ever wanted in a woman, and yet it is a sacred line he'll never cross because she is sacred to him. Some things mean more.
But it's moments like this: storming into Cap's office, haughty, indignant, fighting for her integrity, a survivor. Challenging authority, putting her life and career on the line, that his love for her explodes. He wants to hold her, caress her, reassure her, tell her how proud he is of her. The things she'll say she doesn't want from him because she's independent and fierce, but he knows the truth. She deserves to be comforted, reminded of how loved she is, how this storm will pass, how he will always be there for her, and they will get their collar, with or without the department's help.
They have always been affectionate in ways they cannot reason away or explain. Their friendship encompasses respect and faithfulness; their partnership reflects oaths of protection and loyalty. They are companions, playmates, conspirators, accomplices, kindred spirits. He can tell her anything- they freely talk about relationships, sex, vulnerability, and trust. She knows more of his secrets, but he loves that when she does reveal something personal, he is the only recipient. Her past is a catacomb of pain and loss that she doesn't revisit often, but when she is sad or reflective and wants to take a walk through the tombs of her life, she always brings him along for the journey. Intimacy defines their relationship, and he cannot imagine this closeness with anyone else.
The touching. He can't remember how it started, when they became so comfortable and familiar with each other that it graduated to hand-holding, hugs, chaste kisses, and gentle massages. It just happened, as naturally as their friendship happened, never questioned or scrutinized. Cuddling on the couch, tousling each other's hair, leaning into one another for support- it just is. The familiarity and warmth found in each other's arms is a comfort no lover can give. Their bond is all-encompassing.
Something about tonight- seeing her in the scrap of silvery satin that she calls a dress, the one she wears in the name of the job, to walk the streets, find their witness, do whatever it takes to save her life, clear her name, avenge Robin Curry's death, and catch two dirty cops. Wearing that damn corset that he hasn't stopped thinking about since they were between the sheets at Pike's… he isn't supposed to be ogling her, but damn, every man has his limits. When they review their game plan in the car, it takes every bit of self-control to avoid running his hands over her silken thighs, inching his hands up to the garter belt he knows she's casually donning underneath. The fantasy alone sends electricity through his fingertips, and he grabs her hand instead to steady himself and prepare for the night ahead.
God, he wants to kiss her. To make her anger dissipate; give her something to smile about, even briefly. He has committed every detail of past kisses to memory: the outline of her mouth, pouty and full, the warmth of her upturned lips, a casual smirk lurking underneath that he could read better than his own mind. Desire simmering under the surface, her pride in driving him right to the edge, knowing that he couldn't react fully to her passionate display. All of their kisses have had their differences, unique and fascinating layers revealed. Their first kiss at the Cameron estate: surprisingly wild, lustful, and lingering. Their kisses at the Bingham mansion: first playful and fast, turned slow, realistic, and unexpected. Their treasured Soul Kiss: something they discussed and prepped for, pretending to kiss someone else, only for it to turn into an hour-long declaration of their love for one another. Lastly, their kisses at Pike's mansion: uninhibited and exploratory, rhythmic and familiar. A treasured role play, each time more daring, more meaningful, more like home.
He has fantasized about their lovemaking in numerous ways. Would their first time be hard and fast, one of their undercover gigs come to life? Or, would it be slow and sensual, admiring and relishing every spot of skin that he's dreamed of tasting and touching? It is becoming difficult to think of this in terms of if instead of when. He wouldn't trade these years of friendship for the world, but he'll give anything to succumb to the passion simmering under the surface.
Back at her place, debriefing, uncoiling, opting for coffee instead of alcohol, he feels this pull towards her even more. As gorgeous and powerful as she is in knockout dresses and killer heels, gun hidden with a magician's talent, he loves her best casual. Makeup off, barefoot, wearing one of his stolen tee shirts; it turns him on in more ways than he'll ever admit. But again, it is more, so much more. This is when they talk. Really talk. Share their fears about close calls and the perils of the job they love. Discuss what went wrong and strategize about how to fix it for next time. Pay up on any bets they made about suspects, joke about who was right and wrong. Tonight, however, the air is thick with sadness, anger, and loss. Even though they caught rogue cops in the act and Rita was rightfully reinstated, two of their fellow officers were dead, one of which was Rita's friend. There were no winners here.
It's in this moment of raw vulnerability that he aches for her, longs for her, wants to forget the layers and the rules. But then he looks at her and realizes what that would mean. Partnership, gone: rules are rules. Friendship potentially damaged forever.
He can't risk it. He retreats to the familiar, back to the lull of their platonic companionship. He'll listen and laugh and hold her and cry. He'll have all of her and none of her. He can't lose her because she's more. So much more.
She wants him.
She always wants him most when she's angry. When she is thundering at the world, yet he stays to weather her storm. When she wants to push everyone away but wants to push him down and fuck him senseless. Tonight is one of those nights.
She thinks about when her anger began, the night she lost her gun to a suspect. Mad at herself for the mistake and relieved that the outcome wasn't worse. He tries to downplay it in his report and to their captain, but she is sent for requalification anyway. Deservedly so, but she won't admit that. Her pride is a tremendous asset but also her greatest liability.
He is always in her corner. The suspension, also deserved, still doesn't hurt any less. She's a raging vigilante, ready to take on the world by herself, but then he is there by her side. He lets her call the shots, willing to do anything to support her, including putting his own career on the line. This makes her want him even more. He is unselfish in every way; in his words, his actions, his loyalty.
God, he's a phenomenal kisser. She shouldn't know this about her partner, but fate throws them into situations now and then to remind her of what she's missing. When he first kissed her at the Cameron Estate, he rocked her to her core. That's when she discovered how lustful a relationship with him would be. A year later, a completely different experience. She delighted in seeing the camera first and threw him down on the bed, turning the tables as the shock waves registered. He responded in kind, playfully kissing her, laughing, having friendly fun, until the moment they looked into each other's eyes and she realized she loved him. That's when she discovered how passionate a relationship with him would be. Months later, a nerve-wracking Soul Kiss turned into the most beautiful hour of her life, and she admitted her platonic love for him. That's when she discovered how selfless a relationship with him would be.
And lastly, their undercover assignment a few months back. Watching him strip was a turn-on, even more so because she knew how embarrassed he was, which made him cuter and hotter. The only talk they did ahead of time was procedural, discussing fake lovemaking like a choreographed routine, ways to make it believable to Pike without making it believable to themselves. By now they were pros; she let him take the lead and responded aggressively, teasing him to watch his hands while hers were all over him. The thread of decency between them fraying, neither party concerned. That's when she discovered how thrilling a relationship with him would be.
She's not innocent- she has fantasized about going to bed with him countless times. She wonders of the four adventures experienced with him, which would dominate their lovemaking: lustful, passionate, selfless, or thrilling? She instinctively knows it would be all of the above and more. Sometimes she imagines lingering and sweet, and other times she imagines frenzied and breathless, him filling all of the empty places of her soul and pleasuring her in ways she's never experienced. He often tells her the stories of his sexual escapades because no topic is taboo for him, and she's listened with unaffected ears and a wild mind. She scoffs at him for telling her too much about his love life but secretly begs to hear more. Being the best friend of a gorgeous, loose-lipped man has its perks, that's for sure. He leaves nothing to the imagination, which adds to her explosive scenarios.
She wears the silver dress tonight to fit the role, but she also wears it for him. When she emerges from her bedroom, she sees his reaction; he avoids her eyes, and she knows he is turned on. She hides her grin as she straps on her heels and lets him help her with her necklace. His fingers barely graze her neck, and yet she feels a thousand watts of electricity from his touch.
He eases her nerves. Undercover roles are second nature to her. However, when they are personal, she loses faith in herself. She knows how important tonight is, knows this might be their only chance to catch these rogue cops and prove her theory correct. He senses her hesitation because he's talking to her, going over the plan, reassuring her in that warm, steady voice of his that centers her. He places his hand over hers and rubs her knuckles with his thumb, and she wills herself not to tremble against his touch. She feels the worry in his fingertips, the circular pattern he traces when he's contemplative and unsettled. She knows that he hates that she's putting herself on the line, but he understands why. He always understands.
When the craziness of the case ends, he is back at her place, and she is comfortable: barefoot, coffee, purposefully wearing one of his tees. This is the moment: when his arm is around her and the adrenaline still pumps through her veins. Where she wishes she could give in to the dance they've been doing for years, the tug of war between friendship and love.
But they settle in and they talk; about everything and nothing. He massages the knots that have formed in her neck and she disintegrates in his arms. Comfortable silences blend with the occasional conversation about all that transpired over the past few days. She thanks him for everything he put on the line for her. He tells her that his trust in her is unwavering, always. He chastely kisses the back of her head and whispers his love, veiled in words of comfort and healing. She relaxes, lets the anger melt away, lets the tears flow. This is the most important part of their friendship and partnership, which grounds her. He's her person; a role she could never take for granted or take advantage of; she loves him too much to risk losing him, forever.
She wants him, but she will tuck these feelings away because this is more. He's more. So much more.