oltha_heri (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
oltha_heri) wrote2009-01-30 12:55 pm
oltha_heri) wrote2009-01-30 12:55 pm
Entry tags:
Life Fic: Step 2: They sleep together. Or: She officially goes insane.
Series: A Work In Progress. Or: How Reese Learned To Stop Worrying and Move in With Crews.
Title: Step 2: They sleep together. Or: She officially goes insane.
Rating: R
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff
Characters & Pairings: Crews/Reese
Summary: This is where future fic begins. It does exactly what it says on the tin. This story will chart the move from partners to living together for Crews & Reese.
Notes: Unbetaed as always, sorry. The A Work In Progress part of the title comes from the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
crews_reese community. So excuse the blatant ripping off.
A Work In Progress. Or: How Reese Learned To Stop Worrying and Move in With Crews.
Step 2. They sleep together. Or: She officially goes insane.
It had been an accident. It had been, she tells herself as she sits at the foot of his bed in shock. She had not only fucked him, she had slept with him. After fucking him, she had apparently, given how she had woken up, made herself quite comfortable against his side, and had fallen asleep. She needed to see a shrink. She needed to see several. Her boss, her partner, god what was next Stark! She buried her head in her hands, and let out a groan.
She looks up in panic, hoping he hasn't wakened. He hasn't and she holds in a sigh of relief. She's left enough men before they've woken that she knows how to get out silently. She stood on the threshold of his bedroom, and looked back, seeing the tuft of red hair, she shook her head to rid herself of the sentimentality that suddenly ran through her.
She's scared the following morning. Not that she'd tell anyone, not that she'd ever let it show, but she is. She is terrified that he'll make something of it, but he smiles, offers her an apple, and pretends like nothing ever happened. And she could kiss him for that, except that would kind of ruin the whole thing, and she buries the fact that she would really like to kiss him again.
For two months they work together like nothing has happened, and maybe nothing did, she thinks sometimes. Maybe it was a wayward dream. Maybe it was something that occurs eventually. And maybe it was nothing. The way he looks at her on occasion makes her seriously doubt it. They go back to their old ways and never see each other outside of work. She does occasionally look at him and see his face as he pushed into her, and look over to see his hands typing and saw them as they grabbed her breast, but on the whole, she's been okay with it.
Then she offers to drive him home.
She's tired, and his car is finally responding to the whole being shot at thing, and it is just so easy; easy to drive up the now well-known roads to his large house; easy to say yes to a cup of tea before she begins the descent back down into the city; easy to lean into him and finally kiss the lips she's been thinking about not thinking about for the past eight fucking weeks.
He pulls back. "Reese?" The word is a whisper, and she knows she should turn tail and keep pretending that she and her partner, are just colleagues. But the way he's staring at her with the mixture of a newborn's wonderment and a cynic's knowledge makes it so hard to know what he's asking, she wants to know though, and so she does the only thing she can think of. "Crews?"
He thinks for a few seconds about what he wants to say, and it takes every instinct she has not to run but she knows him, knows them well enough that running would be the worst thing.
"You didn't seem too happy with the outcome last time."
She doesn't quite know what to do, she doesn't know how to talk about her feelings, but neither does she know how to be coy about things. So she looks up at him and makes her decision.
"I'm not good at, at everything with people Crews. I'm good at his though. And right now, I know I want this." She doesn't tell him she's dreamt of nothing else for the past 56 nights. She doesn't tell him she wishes that she were better at everything, because she thinks she might just trust him enough to be able to do it with him. Instead she waits. Waits for him to tell her to go, and have them pretend nothing has happened. He finishes the cup of fruit tea ("Really?" She'd said, "I mean- Really?"), takes one of her hands and pulls her out of the kitchen turning off the light on the way. He stops before the front door; his hand rests on the light switch for the porch. The red light of the camera in the corner he'd gotten partially to satisfy her, and partially for fun, blinks, watching, waiting.
He turns looks at her and says: "I don't want you to run away again Reese."
She angles her chin into a defiant position, looks him in the eye, and says: "I can't promise." The unspoken I can try, lies between them, and she thinks he might kick her out, but instead he grins, and flicks the porch light off. He holds her hand tight as the lights downstairs get turned off. She follows behind him on the stair, her free hand resting between his gun and his hip as they ascend.
In front of his bedroom door he pauses, she steps closer to him her cheek resting between his shoulder blades she stretches her hand out past him and opens the door. He turns and draws her into the room with him. There is only a bed and a bureau in the room. He draws her to the bureau, and his hand finds her belt buckle which he slowly undoes, and he draws it off of her laying her badge and her gun on the bureau, he does the same with his own. She looks down at them, Tidwell's and hers never ended up like this, never ended up this close, never ended up looking that... appropriate. She is drawn back to the moment (and damn him for getting so far inside her head) when his hands pull her shirt out of his pants and begin unbuttoning it. She reaches under his arms and begins to undo his, their arms tangle as they push the clothes off of each other, and their legs intertwine as they fall into the bed, and their tongues meet as he strokes a hand down her side, and they join as she wraps her legs around his narrow waist.
She thinks, the following morning as she shields her bowl of sugary cereal the girl or Ted must have left from being bombarded by freshly cut fruit, that the fact that the warmth in her chest is something akin to happiness probably makes her quite insane.
Comments would be muchly loved. The next part will hopefully be up by Monday.
Title: Step 2: They sleep together. Or: She officially goes insane.
Rating: R
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff
Characters & Pairings: Crews/Reese
Summary: This is where future fic begins. It does exactly what it says on the tin. This story will chart the move from partners to living together for Crews & Reese.
Notes: Unbetaed as always, sorry. The A Work In Progress part of the title comes from the
crews_reese community. So excuse the blatant ripping off.A Work In Progress. Or: How Reese Learned To Stop Worrying and Move in With Crews.
Step 2. They sleep together. Or: She officially goes insane.
It had been an accident. It had been, she tells herself as she sits at the foot of his bed in shock. She had not only fucked him, she had slept with him. After fucking him, she had apparently, given how she had woken up, made herself quite comfortable against his side, and had fallen asleep. She needed to see a shrink. She needed to see several. Her boss, her partner, god what was next Stark! She buried her head in her hands, and let out a groan.
She looks up in panic, hoping he hasn't wakened. He hasn't and she holds in a sigh of relief. She's left enough men before they've woken that she knows how to get out silently. She stood on the threshold of his bedroom, and looked back, seeing the tuft of red hair, she shook her head to rid herself of the sentimentality that suddenly ran through her.
She's scared the following morning. Not that she'd tell anyone, not that she'd ever let it show, but she is. She is terrified that he'll make something of it, but he smiles, offers her an apple, and pretends like nothing ever happened. And she could kiss him for that, except that would kind of ruin the whole thing, and she buries the fact that she would really like to kiss him again.
For two months they work together like nothing has happened, and maybe nothing did, she thinks sometimes. Maybe it was a wayward dream. Maybe it was something that occurs eventually. And maybe it was nothing. The way he looks at her on occasion makes her seriously doubt it. They go back to their old ways and never see each other outside of work. She does occasionally look at him and see his face as he pushed into her, and look over to see his hands typing and saw them as they grabbed her breast, but on the whole, she's been okay with it.
Then she offers to drive him home.
She's tired, and his car is finally responding to the whole being shot at thing, and it is just so easy; easy to drive up the now well-known roads to his large house; easy to say yes to a cup of tea before she begins the descent back down into the city; easy to lean into him and finally kiss the lips she's been thinking about not thinking about for the past eight fucking weeks.
He pulls back. "Reese?" The word is a whisper, and she knows she should turn tail and keep pretending that she and her partner, are just colleagues. But the way he's staring at her with the mixture of a newborn's wonderment and a cynic's knowledge makes it so hard to know what he's asking, she wants to know though, and so she does the only thing she can think of. "Crews?"
He thinks for a few seconds about what he wants to say, and it takes every instinct she has not to run but she knows him, knows them well enough that running would be the worst thing.
"You didn't seem too happy with the outcome last time."
She doesn't quite know what to do, she doesn't know how to talk about her feelings, but neither does she know how to be coy about things. So she looks up at him and makes her decision.
"I'm not good at, at everything with people Crews. I'm good at his though. And right now, I know I want this." She doesn't tell him she's dreamt of nothing else for the past 56 nights. She doesn't tell him she wishes that she were better at everything, because she thinks she might just trust him enough to be able to do it with him. Instead she waits. Waits for him to tell her to go, and have them pretend nothing has happened. He finishes the cup of fruit tea ("Really?" She'd said, "I mean- Really?"), takes one of her hands and pulls her out of the kitchen turning off the light on the way. He stops before the front door; his hand rests on the light switch for the porch. The red light of the camera in the corner he'd gotten partially to satisfy her, and partially for fun, blinks, watching, waiting.
He turns looks at her and says: "I don't want you to run away again Reese."
She angles her chin into a defiant position, looks him in the eye, and says: "I can't promise." The unspoken I can try, lies between them, and she thinks he might kick her out, but instead he grins, and flicks the porch light off. He holds her hand tight as the lights downstairs get turned off. She follows behind him on the stair, her free hand resting between his gun and his hip as they ascend.
In front of his bedroom door he pauses, she steps closer to him her cheek resting between his shoulder blades she stretches her hand out past him and opens the door. He turns and draws her into the room with him. There is only a bed and a bureau in the room. He draws her to the bureau, and his hand finds her belt buckle which he slowly undoes, and he draws it off of her laying her badge and her gun on the bureau, he does the same with his own. She looks down at them, Tidwell's and hers never ended up like this, never ended up this close, never ended up looking that... appropriate. She is drawn back to the moment (and damn him for getting so far inside her head) when his hands pull her shirt out of his pants and begin unbuttoning it. She reaches under his arms and begins to undo his, their arms tangle as they push the clothes off of each other, and their legs intertwine as they fall into the bed, and their tongues meet as he strokes a hand down her side, and they join as she wraps her legs around his narrow waist.
She thinks, the following morning as she shields her bowl of sugary cereal the girl or Ted must have left from being bombarded by freshly cut fruit, that the fact that the warmth in her chest is something akin to happiness probably makes her quite insane.
Comments would be muchly loved. The next part will hopefully be up by Monday.
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