Blindspot Secret Santa!...
This is for the lovely and patient @charloedrama !!! I hope your Christmas was everything you hoped for!!! This fic was written just for you:) I do hope you enjoy!!
She sips her coffee while she watches the morning rays of sunlight push through the blinds, and play with the dust floating in the air. Sheās got one bare knee pressed to her chest, arms wrapped around it at she lifts her cup, the other is bouncing under the table in a rhythm that speaks to the anxiety battling the joy in her blood. She turns her cheek and letās the collar of his shirt wrap her in his scent. Sheād picked it up off the floor where she herself had tossed it some time late last night.
She woke just before dawn, the habit unbroken even by the presents of the soft, strong, male body in her bed. She had tried to bask in his warmth but couldnāt sleep, couldnāt lay there any longer and worry about the repercussions of her actions.
Theyād been stealing time lately. Finding ways to be together. Late night TV and Thai food, a Sunday drive out of the city, a second (much better), dinner with Sarah and Sawyer. Heād shown up last night with nothing but a smile and mouth full of kisses.
Heād kissed her breathless every time, but nothing more.
She knows he would have continued their pattern of quiet nights and soul shattering make out sessions if she hadnāt pushed him last night. She knows heās been burying his needs under the respect he has for her. He wears it like shield; protecting both of them; she knows heās been using it to keep himself from falling too far, too fully without knowing what she could possibly be to him. Sheās grateful for his restraint. Knows theyāre friends before theyāre anything else and that friendship is whatās kept her afloat through everything thatās come their way so far.
She doesnāt want to be the reason she can no longer turn to him.
Theyāve kept it quiet at work, have made a habit of staying out of each otherās way, of keeping the need out of their eyes when theyāre forced into the field together. Itās not an easy feat and sheās pretty sure they arenāt fooling anyone.
If sheās picked up anything along the way itās that life is way too short to waste time wishing and wondering. And yet here she sits; wishing for clarity and wondering if sheās ruined the single greatest friendship sheās ever had.
Thereās also a smaller, much softer voice in the back of her mind hoping for another opportunity to get him naked. She canāt fight the smile that pulls her lips as she sips the now tepid coffee and remembers how sheād been the one to bring her to this exact moment. How heād done his best, been a true gentleman, and held back from her advances as best he could.
Theyād been on the couch, just like the night before; his hands under her shirt, hers in his hair. His mouth a masterpiece of passion and patience, his body braced, muscles taught under her roaming hands. Somehow sheās in his lap, her knees flanking his hips and she can feel how much it takes for him to keep from taking them somewhere they both want to go but are too afraid to attempt.
She has no idea why but all of a sudden she couldnāt find a single reason of any relevance to keep them here in this moment, to keep them from making something more of all the emotion and need and passion thatās been building between them. She remembers rocking her hips against him, remembers the way the air vibrated out of his chest and into her mouth and how he couldnāt not push back. How he lifted his back off the cushions, how his hands ended up at her throat, than her face and how heād buried them in the hair at the at top of her spine. How he pulled his mouth from hers when she took the top two buttons of his shirt in her shaking fingers and started to part the soft cotton.
āJane,ā heād said it like he couldnāt catch his breath, as if his heart was beating too fast and too hard for him to fully wrap his tongue around the single syllable. She knows exactly how that feels.
Sheād lifted a hand to take his face, to pull him in until their foreheads bumped, met his eyes as she continued to slowly open the small, pearly, buttons down his shirtfront. Heād taken her hand and his eyes had gone still, theyād hardened instantly, giving off that defiant edge that sheās learned to love and hate in equal parts.
āKurt,ā she says his name and takes his mouth, once, twice, and pulls herself back before she can take them back under, āI wont hurt you, and I trust you not to hurt me.ā His grip tightens in her hair, on her hand, his eyes close as his almost even breathing picks up again. āNothing I can think of, nothing I can remember, has ever made me feel the way you do.ā Her words are all but a whisper at the end, the gentle lift in her voice lacing them in faith and a touch of persuasion. āYou canāt tell me you donāt want this.ā
Heād dropped his hands to her waist and his thumb had found her hipbone, fingers spread across the scroll inked on at her waist. When sheād started the pull his shirt apart again, he did not try to stop her.
And now here she is; lukewarm coffee, a hummingbird heart and the mans shirt wrapping her completely in him. Heāll wake at any moment and who knows what tone heāll take on the events sheād single handedly started. She instantly doubts herself and every decision sheās made since sheād gotten him naked last night. Sheās so wrapped up in her own worry she doesnāt hear him until heās made it halfway across the room.
Heād pull his jeans on but hasnāt bothered with the button so they hang on his hips and sheās appalled with herself when her mouth waters at the sight of him. He crouches down beside her chair, one hand reaching for the coffee cup in her hands, the other starts off in her hair and slowly makes its way down her back. Itās a gesture of comfort, of affection and itās more reassuring than any declaration of undying love could ever be. His face is soft with sleep and his eyes are full of questions, and sheās almost positive his mouth is smiling but she canāt see it behind the coffee cup heās stolen and lifted to sip from.
She rests her cheek along her lifted knee, wraps her hands around her shin and threads her fingers together above Anaās owl.
He makes a face and sets the cup back down, this time out of reach. āCoffees cold, Jane.ā He drops his hand to the arch of her foot where it rest of the chair, lets his thumb and his fingers play across the rise of her ankle. His other hand is rubbing circles along her back, small, soft motions that make her want to close her eyes and just lean on him. āCome back to bed,ā he whispers, āyour feet are cold.ā He stands and waits for her to follow, holds a hand out for her to take, and he knows she understands heās offering more than just a lift up from her seat. Knows heās giving her a part of himself, and asking her to do the same, all without having to say a thing.
Last night was her choice, and this morning is his.
She reaches for his hand and sets all her worries aside. Knows heās the most important person in her life; her greatest friend, and greatest love, knows she will do whatever it takes to keep that friendship first and to make sure that love has room to grow.
When she stands, steps towards him, meets his eyes in the morning light, his smile blooms across his face and she knows sheās spent the better part of the morning worrying for nothing.
