"I… I'm going to make us some coffee," she said quickly, avoiding his gaze. She just turned around and walked toward the kitchen.

Jay ran a hand through his damp hair as he watched her back off once again. He didn't stop her—didn't dare push any harder. He couldn't. He knew she was right, but he couldn't ignore the way every fiber of his body ached for her. He regretted every single day that had passed since he walked out of her apartment five years earlier.

He let out a breath and followed her into the kitchen. The early morning light filled the whole apartment, making it even more cozy and inviting. He looked around taking in all the beautiful details.

"How about I make those pancakes you liked?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. His mood was already starting to lighten up.

"I don't know if I have everything you need…" she teased, raising an eyebrow of her own as she eyed him.

"Can I?" he asked if he could take over her kitchen.

"Sure! You can do whatever you want…" she shrugged innocently, even though she knew exactly what it was implying. She knew she was driving him crazy with all the push and pull. But she was absolutely enjoying it.

He raised his eyebrows, his smirk widening. He was about to say something but stopped. She caught that little twinkle in his eyes. He didn't need to say a word—she knew exactly what he was thinking.

She leaned against the counter on the other side of the island, watching him totally take over her kitchen. He looked totally at home, like he'd been living there forever. It felt… domestic.

She couldn't help but smile as she watched him get to work. He looked like a man in his element. He grabbed a bowl and started mixing, his focus was so intense that it was kind of funny to watch.

He opened the fridge expecting a mess, but everything was surprisingly neat.

"Oh wow! Grace must be a saint to keep up with all your mess!" he called out in surprise, clearly impressed. He had opened the fridge the day before to get the beers but he was not really paying attention.

She tossed a chocolate chip in his direction. It hit him perfectly in the chest before plopping into the batter bowl.

"See! You're messing up my recipe already!" he teased with a grin.

"How is chocolate messing it up, Halstead? I'm just improving it!" She shot back, grabbing another chocolate chip and tossing it right back at him, her aim was impeccable.

"Give me that jar," he demanded with a playful grin.

Without warning, she slid the jar across the counter, a sly look in her eyes.

He had to lean forward, stretching himself across the island in a dramatic, exaggerated move to catch it before it toppled to the floor.

"Whoa! Careful!" she laughed, watching his theatrical rescue.

He just shook his head in mock frustration, a playful scowl on his face, though his eyes sparkled with amusement. She looked sorry for a split second, but then she couldn't help it—her grin broke loose, and she burst out laughing.

"This was going to be a disaster," he muttered, shaking his head again, but clearly enjoying every second of it.

He cooked the pancakes with a surprising amount of care, spreading Nutella generously on top, then adding perfectly cut strawberries like he was plating a work of art.

She slipped behind him, brushing against him just enough to feel his warmth. She could've taken the longer route, but she just liked being close to him.

She reached into the fridge and grabbed a can of whipped cream. When she turned around, his eyes locked onto it like she was holding a dangerous weapon. He knew it was about to get interesting.

She could feel the tension crackling between them, so she played along. Slowly, deliberately, she walked toward him without breaking their gaze. A sly smile spread across her face, and she bit down gently on her bottom lip, her eyebrows lifting just enough to make him squirm. She could feel the heat between them.

She moved closer and closer until she was right in front of him. Then, just when it seemed like something might happen, she broke into a playful grin and gave him a gentle shove. 'Excuse me,' she said sweetly as she slipped past him. Picking up the whipped cream, she gave a pancake a quick swirl and topped it with a smiley face, clearly loving how much she was messing with him.

"You're really playing with fire, you know," he said, his tone amused but with a hint of a challenge.

He snatched the can from her hand, but she tried to grab it back, only for him to hold it out of reach behind his back. Their bodies pressed against each other while he extended his arm further back, deliberately. She pulled away slightly with her heart racing and watched as he put a dollop of whipped cream on his finger, then teasingly hovered it near her lips. Her heart seemed to stop, wondering if he would actually dare. They both knew if he touched her lips there would be no way back.

The space between them was electric. His finger was less than an inch away from her lips. She parted them slightly, instinctively and she could almost taste the whipped cream, almost feel his lips on hers. But instead of pushing forward, he pulled back, sucking his finger painfully slowly, deliberately, and she felt an immediate flush run through her.

She gave him a playful push, smirking. "I'm the one playing with fire? I could frame you for arson right here!"

He laughed, "You think so?" he said, drawing a heart with whipped cream on his plate as if to challenge her. "Get this the hell out of here," he said with a laugh, handing her the can.

She grabbed the can, pushed it far back into the fridge, but when she turned around, he had switched their plates, giving her the one with the heart.

"Aww," she teased, "so sweet."

He shot her a wink, his grin getting wider. She grinned right back, feeling something blooming in her chest as they quietly soaked it all in.

They ate their pancakes side by side in a comfortable silence, exchanging glances between bites. The warmth of the moment felt almost too perfect.

"Soooo messy…" he muttered with a teasing smile, reaching over to swipe some whipped cream from the corner of her lips with his finger. He slowly brought it to his mouth and licked it off, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Jaaayy…" she protested, her voice melting, with a mix of amusement, mock disapproval… just burning inside for him.

"It was distracting!" he said, grinning and raising both hands in an exaggerated shrug. "I had no choice—I had to clean it up."

She rolled her eyes with a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

He just laughed, knowing he'd gotten under her skin in the best way possible. The air between them felt lighter, full of easy, playful energy.

He finished cleaning the dishes, effortlessly restoring the kitchen to its usual pristine state.

"I could replace her with you, you know… Grace," she said, her eyes glinting with mischief.

"To clean up after you?" He raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Uh-huh," she replied with a shrug. "She comes every Friday from 9 to 5. You want the job?"

"Mmm… to clean your mess? That would need to be a full-time gig. 24/7," he said, grinning as he leaned against the counter.

"That works too. You can start whenever you want," she laughed, shaking her head.

She took a deep breath and softened her expression. "Okay, enough goofing around… we've got some serious stuff to talk about."

"Do we?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, pretending to be confused. He knew they were playing a dangerous game, but he was not really willing to stop it.

Without saying anything else, she took his hand and tugged him toward the couch. The teasing vibe faded as she led him to sit next to her.

"You never finished telling me about how you got the army offer last night…" she prompted, leaning in slightly.

He adjusted himself on the couch. Even closer this time. There was no space between them.

He hesitated, unsure if he wanted to get into it again, but the way she looked at him said he didn't have a choice.

"Hmmm… Lenny… the guy who saved the pregnant lady," Jay began, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "While I was investigating, trying to figure out how to avoid bringing his name into everything, his buddy, Nolan, stepped in to help. I'd met him at the hospital when Lenny died. He was also a soldier. He said they needed people with my experience, and a few days later, I got an envelope with an official offer."

She let his words sink in for a second, then asked, "You didn't talk to Mouse… you didn't talk to Hailey… so, who did you talk to about all this, Jay?"

"You?" he said quietly, his eyes locking with hers.

She rolled her eyes, a little frustrated. "You didn't even know if you were going to see me in front of that building…"

"I'm lucky I did," he said, his voice soft as he reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from her face.

"Jay, I'm serious… You got the offer and just signed up like that? You didn't even talk to anyone? Why are you really doing it?" she asked, her tone gentle but digging for the deeper truth behind his decision.

"I told you," he said, looking away. "I need the structure. I need to feel like I have control over my life again. In the army, I don't have a choice but to follow the rules. Everything's by the book. And I need that right now. I can't stay under Voight's wing forever."

"Under his wing?" she asked, a small frown knitting her brow.

"Yeah, you know what I mean," he said, frustrated with a shrug. "He always finds a way to bend the rules, to cover things up, to make it all go away. For himself and for the team."

"He doesn't measure his ways to put away the bad guys…"

"I know it's all somehow good for the city," he continued, his words measured but heavy. "I know he's worthy, and I know Chicago needs him. I get all that… and that's the second reason why I stuck around on the team for so long."

"Second?" she asked, curiously.

"Yeah."

"What's the first?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Just like when you said you used to call him after a bad dream…" he paused, his eyes darkening with memories. "Even though he wouldn't tell me about you, I could see it in his eyes. I could tell you were okay. I forced myself to remember every day how he was when Justin died… just to reassure myself that somewhere, somehow you were okay."

Her chest tightened at the rawness in his voice. "Jay…"

"But I can't keep doing it, Erin," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I can't go rogue anymore, break the law knowing he'll fix it. I can't keep acting like I'm above it all. It's not who I am. He used to say he sleeps like a baby at night, but I don't. All that guilt and regret—it eats at me in ways I can't handle anymore."

"I get it," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I feel the same sometimes."

"You do?" His eyes searched hers, looking for whatever she was keeping buried deep inside.

"There's so much in my past that keeps me up at night," she admitted, looking down as memories flashed through her mind.

"But that's not who you are anymore," he said, his tone gentle but firm.

"I like to believe it's not…" Her voice trailed off, uncertainty creeping into her words.

"I'm so proud of you, Erin," he said softly, his hand brushing against hers. "For how far you've come… for how you've turned your life around."

She wasn't sure if she deserved his praise, but his words wrapped around her like a warm blanket she didn't know she needed. "Thank you…" she murmured.

Her gaze dropped to the floor. She could understand his need to move on, but going back to the Army, after all he had suffered—all he had to overcome—didn't make sense to her.

"Tell me more about this mission… what are you going to do exactly?"

Jay took a slow breath. "It's a joint operation. My unit will be working alongside DEA agents and some local Bolivian forces. The main objective is to disrupt one of the big cartels in the Chapare region—take down their processing facilities, hit their supply lines, gather intel on the leadership. The usual… you know…"

"Chapare," she repeated, tilting her head slightly. "I thought most of the cartel activity was in La Paz."

"Chapare is where they grow the coca." Jay explained. "La Paz might see the money and the deals, but the raw material comes from remote regions like Chapare. That's where they set up labs, process the paste, and ship it out to other countries.

As he spoke, Erin couldn't help but imagine all kinds of danger that he could probably face in a remote and dense jungle-covered area—small mountain villages, muddy trails, hidden labs. She'd dealt with plenty of danger before, but this? it was all so different from everything she knew.

"In the middle of nowhere…"

"Pretty much. We'll be in the main base in the city, but yeah… we will have missions in these very remote areas."

Erin nodded, her brows furrowed. "So, what does that mean for you? I mean, day-to-day?"

"It means we'll be running a lot of intel missions. Surveillance, recon—finding out where the labs are, who's running them, and how the product is moving. Then, once we have enough information, we'll move in. Raids on the labs, intercepting shipments, capturing people who can give us more intel."

He paused, rolling his shoulders slightly. "It's not going to be easy. They're not just sitting around waiting for us to show up. They'll have guards, lookouts, maybe even drones. We'll be walking into a place where they already know the terrain better than we do."

"How long are you out there at a time?" she asked softly.

"Depends," he said. "A few days for some missions, longer if the situation calls for it. We regroup at the main base, plan things out there, but when we're out in the field, it's just us and the gear we bring along."

Erin's voice lowered slightly. "That sounds so dangerous."

He gave a faint, humorless smile. "It always is. You know… but we've got a solid team, good intel. We'll be careful."

She bit her lip, studying him for a moment before speaking. "I guess I worry because I don't fully understand…"

"It's not that different than when you go undercover, I guess."

"It sounds like a lot more than just some standard assignment."

"Yes," Jay admitted. "It is. But we're trained for it. And we'll be working with people who know the area—people who've been doing this for years. That's what I have to focus on."

He finally looked up, meeting her eyes. "Besides, it's not forever. We're not there to win a war. We're there to make it harder for these guys to keep operating. Every lab we shut down, every shipment we stop—it makes a huge difference. Not only for the area, but for the whole world. All this drug would end up here or in Europe."

"8 months sounds like forever," she said, looking away sadly.

"I know… but it's not," he said, reaching out his hand to stroke her face.

"I was going to La Paz… when I was working for the task force with the DEA, remember?"

"Oh yeah, I remember you telling me about that. Pretty clearly, actually." He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

She closed her eyes and smiled, flushing slightly. She also remembered very well telling him about La Paz, but especially the whole night before. The very first night they had spent in each other's arms.

"Ugh, I hated that job!" she finally said, chuckling.

"Well… I don't… it led you to my door…"

"That it really did…" she smiled again, rolling her eyes and looking away.

He smiled… he just couldn't get tired of her shy smile.

"You cold?" he asked, noticing her shivering.

"A little."

He reached over for the blanket at the end of the couch. He looked at her as if to ask permission then lifted her legs over his lap, turning her toward him before pulling the blanket over them."

She laid her head on her elbow, leaning on the back of the couch, looking at him and smiling. What do I do to you? She wondered. She loved those little gestures that showed he was really paying attention to her.

"Do you like your job with the FBI now?" he asked, his voice soft but curious.

"It was tough at first…" she began, her eyes distant as she thought back. "I mean, after all those years with Voight—working the way we did—it was hard to adjust."

He chuckled, the sound familiar but bittersweet. "I can imagine."

"There are times I go on undercover missions that last months. No contact with anyone—no personal phone, no messages, nothing. Not that I really have anyone to talk to anyway…" She trailed off, sad. "It's still hard, though. But I think the worst part is coming back home and feeling like it doesn't even matter."

"What do you mean?" His voice dropped slightly, his concern deepening.

She hesitated, taking a slow breath before answering. "Undercover or not… I come back to an empty apartment. Nobody waiting for me. Nobody who cares how long I've been gone. It's like I'm invisible when I'm not working."

"I never stopped caring about you, Er… not even for a second," he said quickly, raising his voice a little. "Not even when I was angry or frustrated."

"But still," she continued, her voice quiet, almost fragile. "I'd come back to this empty space. And it's not just about being alone. It's… I didn't have anyone to turn to."

"Because you pushed everyone away," he said quickly in frustration, his words firm, harsher than he intended.

"Like I had a choice," she snapped.

"Of course you had a choice. But you just walked away without looking back."

"Wow… that's what you really think?"

"I tried, Er… for over a year I tried to reach out… but you just ignored me like we were nothing."

"God, Jay! You walked away. You left me, remember!? Do you have any idea how bad that hurt?" she asked, holding back her tears.

"I was going to come back!" he said more quietly now, the sadness replacing his frustration.

"Yet you didn't." She winced, the truth of it cutting deeper than she expected. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady her heart. "Can we not talk about this just yet?" she asked, her voice shaking. She wasn't ready to dig into that well of pain again—not now. Not when everything between them felt so fragile. "I just… I just can't. Not right now."

He understood, more than she realized. He nodded, he knew they weren't ready for this conversation. And he didn't want to risk saying something he would regret later. Especially after she spent the whole night just listening to him. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too, Jay… really."

They both knew they'd have to face their past at some point. But not yet. Right now, they just needed space to breathe and exist without all the pressure

She leaned her head back against the couch, sitting sideways, and looked at him. He turned toward her, mirroring the way her elbow propped her head up. For a while they just looked at each other. She pouted and he reached out to stroke her cheek.

She gave a shy smile looking at him. She didn't need to look at the window behind her to know that the sun was fully up and that the sky was the most perfect blue. She could see it in the color shifting in his eyes. She really loved to look at him in the sunlight like that. His freckles would pop and his eyes seemed to steal the color from the sky, turning more blue than green.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing…just memorizing."

"Memorizing what?"

"Your eyes…"

He shook his head, rolling his eyes with a light chuckle before pulling her closer and wrapping his arms around her. She rested her head on his chest, the steady beat of his heart grounding her in the silence that followed. He kissed her forehead softly, and for a few precious moments, they just held each other—no words, no expectations, just the comfort of each other's presence. In that stillness, they both allowed themselves to process everything without needing to say anything else.