#wainwrightxreader

It was as if the whole thing didn’t happen.

That’s when he realized it.

Your approach was to just put it behind you and move on.

He expected nothing less.

There was nothing he could do about the matter, so he decided to focus on his job. It was the only thing he had that could squash the bitter feelings in his chest.

~

“Jane, I need your help.”

When you pulled him to the side, he could tell it was serious. He’s not oblivious to the tension. For the last couple days you haven’t so much as spared a glance in Wainwright’s direction. You’ve also started to take the stairs every morning from the sound of your winded breathing when you come in sometimes.

You’ve become cautious, careful. Jane is positive he knows why.

“What’s wrong?”

“I..I need you to hypnotize me.”

There’s a subtle look of confusion, then recognition.

“You want to forget about Wainwright.”

You nod, pulling at the bottom of your shirt.

“I have to do this job, I can’t do that knowing what I do. I need to forget, I have too.”

“You don’t mean that.”

You stammer.

“W-What are you talking about of course I do!”

“You think that’s the right decision, but I’m sure you realize that’s wrong. If you didn’t share those feelings you would have been able to easily look past it. If you forget, you’ll regret it forever.”

“Jane please.”

You’re begging and he shakes his head, taking your hand.

“I’m sorry but I can’t.”

It takes a lot for him to walk away, especially with you in that state. But he does, sending you a sympathetic smile.

You stand there, defeated. Jane was the only viable option.

What exactly are you supposed to do now?

Quit, change units?

No.

Wainwright is the one who started this mess. You shouldn’t have to pay for it. You just need to work.

Work will keep you grounded.

It has too.

For the next couple days, that’s what you do.

“Remember, just get him talking, we don’t have much on him so we can’t take him in. We just need to stall until Rigsby and Vanpelt find some evidence.”

You’ve done this more than once, so you don’t get why she’s being so overly cautious.

“I got it boss, I’m going in.”

So you did.

For the most part you did have it under control. The problem was he’d been trying to grope you all evening. Towards the end Lisbon had given you the signal. They found the weapon, as well as the bloodied clothes. So you were about to leave. With a friendly smile you made an excuse about needing to go because you were getting tipsy. You left the bar, and he’d followed you out.

At this point he was holding your wrist.

“I really should get going, Vince.”

“Come on sweetheart, don’t be like that, let's have some fun.”

His hand gropes your butt and that feels like the last straw. You spin around, landing a harsh blow. His head whips to the side, and you reach into your pocket, pulling out your cuffs.

“CBI, you’re under arrest.”

You shove him against a car just as Lisbon and Jane break the corner.

“She punched me in the nose!”

“You grabbed my butt, that’s assault.”

Jane is smiling as you restrain Vince. Lisbon takes over, sending you a look.

“Are you sure you’re okay (L/N)?”

“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?”

She says nothing, just nods, taking the idiot away.

“Nice hook.” Jane compliments.

Of course he would enjoy that.

After that, everything just falls in place. He’s being booked and it’s not even 4pm yet. 

Another win.

On to the next case.

“I think you should take the rest of the day off.” Lisbon says.

That’s not what you wanted to hear.

“What! Why? Because I sucker punched the guy? He’s a moron and a killer.”

“Yesterday you drop-kicked a suspect.”

“He had a knife!” You defend.

“Be that as it may, it's obvious that you have some things to sort out. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You can’t believe it. She’s benching you for doing your job. With a grumble, you pull your jacket off the back of your chair as you walk away angrily.

The days just seem to go from bad to worse lately.

~~

There’s a soft knock on the door. For a moment you assume it’s Lisbon, coming to give you a pep talk or inquire about what has you so agitated.

When you open the door, the last person you expected to see at your door late that night is Wainwright.

Although given your behavior lately you aren’t surprised.

“Sir, is there something I can help you with?”

You should remain professional.

“I’m just doing a wellness check, can I come in?”

You should scream no and slam the door in his face, but that will surely cause you to get fired. You’re on thin ice as it is.

“Come in.”

He enters, and you suddenly become aware that you’re not exactly sporting an outfit appropriate for company. You’re just in a baggy t-shirt. It’s long enough to hide the fact that you’re only wearing underwear.

“Agent Lisbon informed me of some incidents lately. Should I be concerned?”

You frown.

“No sir, everything is under control.”

“Really, because usually I don’t get complaints about my agents dropping kicking witnesses, or punching them in the nose.”

“He came at me first, I just reacted.”

“A drop kick seems more than excessive.”

“What exactly would you suggest I do then? Just let him jump me with a knife!”

It didn’t take a genius to see that you were annoyed. Wainwright stepped closer, eyes a bit worried.

“Is there something I should know about? Is everything alright (L/N)?”

The soft way he was now speaking just added to your frustration. It’s unfair. He has no right to look at you like that. Like he’d face the most awful criminal just to protect you.

“This is all your fault, why the hell did you have to tell me about your feelings! I even tried to get Jane to hypnotize me so I’d forget about it. All I can think about now is you and it’s driving me crazy. How am I supposed to do my job like this?!”

Confessing all of this was the last thing you should be doing, especially to your boss.

“Slow down, did you say you tried to get Jane to hypnotize you?”

You felt stupid.

Taking a step back you wrapped your arms around yourself protectively.

“I was fine when you were just this mean superior face we had to report to. Why the hell did you have to say anything to make that change..”

You look defeated, and he feels guilty.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t good enough.”

He knows that nothing he can say will make up for what has already been said. He sees the tears and it adds to his turmoil.

“Please, please don’t cry, I can't..”

He can’t deal with it, seeing you so hurt. Against his better judgment he moves in and you’re caught off guard when he hugs you. You should offer some resistance, but his hands wrapped so protectively around your body is heavenly. You’ve always prided yourself on being strong, independent. When he holds you, you feel like you can lower that guard. His hand slides down your back and you return the embrace.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry (Y/N).”

He keeps apologizing and you feel like you’re going to fall apart all over again.

This is his fault, so why are you feeling sorry for him? You’re the one in a shitty position. The one who’ll be judged if anyone found out. You’ve worked hard to get where you are. He more than anyone should understand that.

You should hate him for putting you in this situation.

Yet..

As you pull away, you look at him. Truly look at him.

His eyes hold such tenderness that warms you. Jane’s words are engraved in your mind. You know deep down he’s right. If you didn’t return those feelings this would have easily been brushed aside. Some part of you must feel this attraction, that’s why it’s so hard for you.

When you look at him, he almost forgets about it all. The fact that the last thing he should be doing is touching you so softly. There’s too much temptation standing here in your home. He should leave. You look calmer. He’s done his job.

“I should leave.”

You seem to collect yourself, and you nod.

He’s still awfully close.

“Of course, have a safe trip back home sir.”

Sir.

Why does that suddenly irritate him? It’s the distance, it has to be. That word is built on professionalism. Something that he’d very much like to get rid of right now. His hand brushes your cheek and you look up.

“Sir..?”

“Stop calling me that.”

He doesn’t voice those words. He wouldn’t dare too, but he wishes at that moment that he was someone else. He wishes he could get you to indulge his fantasy, but it would be wrong. You’re still vulnerable. You rely on him, he shouldn’t.

“Luther.”

That name surprises him, and he’s about to say something, but you pull him in. Eyebrows rising he nearly jumps out of his skin. It must be an illusion. There’s no way that you’re actually kissing him.

Not a second after he registers it, he’s kissing you back. His hands tighten on your waist and you gasp when he backs you into the wall. Everything about him exudes strength and you’re shocked yourself when you grab his free hand and press it against your chest. He squeezes and you moan, opening your mouth for him to explore. He takes the invitation happily. You’re both barely apart long enough to catch a proper breath. He’s touching everything, exploring everything. You barely process it when his hand finds its way under your shirt.

Another hand slides between your legs and you finally get yourself to pull away to level your breathing. He still has you against the wall and you’re looking at him with a hint of awe and lust. He takes it in. He knows it’s wrong, but he loves the fact that you’re so rattled by him. So responsive. You're gripping at his shoulder.

“L-Luther..”

You sound so desperate. He never thought it would sound this good, coming from your lips.

“I’m sorry.”

He’s still apologizing, because he’s the one that should have walked away. He’d accept any hateful words you would have right now.

When you look at him, hate is the last emotion you feel. You’re just so lost on how you never realized before. His eyes emit an attraction that was more than just physical. How have you been around him for this long and never once suspected it? Better yet, how has he been able to function with these feelings all this time. Any other person would have broken down much sooner. But he’d probably talked himself into it everyday. Maintaining the mask. Keeping a front. Protecting himself. The same way you were determined to shelter yourself from any pain.

Right now, there’s only one thing you both need more than anything.

“Don’t stop Luther.”

He shakes his head.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

He presses his hand to the wall as he finally releases you, burying his face into your shoulder.

“Please don’t say it..if you don’t mean it."

You’ve never seen this man vulnerable.

Taking his cheeks in your hands, you lift his head. His eyes search for it, that fear, or maybe even disgust. All you do is smile.

You really were blind.

“If you stop now I won’t forgive you.”

An empty threat that brings him comfort.

You squeal when he picks you up, and you hold on, staring at him.

“Please don’t let this be a dream.”