thelongdormantcop | (no subject)

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grace faraday

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They wake up like this most mornings now, curled together, in one or the other's bed. Though it's been months now since they both got here, Jerry still finds that he has trouble getting used to it, despite the fact that he's pretty sure they've had just about as long, if not longer, in Darrow than they did sneaking around behind Cohen's back. He just never thought for a second, back then, that they'd get to have this. Hell, he wasn't even sure if she'd want it, no matter how logical it might have been. (It wouldn't have made sense, after all, for her to go to all that trouble and take all those risks if it were just about getting laid.) Now, even if they haven't exactly clarified what this is or what they're doing, it's at least a lot clearer now, when it couldn't have been before. That's what really matters to him.

It just makes it all the more breathtaking to wake up beside her, knowing that neither of them really has to rush off anywhere. Even on days when he has to get to the station, or when she's had work to get to, neither of them is as pressed to get out the door as she used to be, or even as he was when the squad started requiring so much of his time. They can have this now, no more hurrying to someone else or pretending like they don't wish things could be different. Strange as living in this city is, as much as there are aspects of it that he finds unsettling, even unlikable, what they've gotten in return is more than worth it. He worries more than he'd care to admit about what would have happened back in Los Angeles, but he isn't sure he'd trade this freedom for anything. They both did more than their share of fighting. They deserve the break they've gotten from that, he thinks.

Whatever else has changed, he still gets up early, too used to it not to, the sun slanting through the blinds drawn over his window. At his side, Grace is still asleep, or she looks like it, and he considers for a moment waking her, but he doesn't have the heart to. She looks too peaceful like this, too beautiful. Though he wouldn't know how to tell her so, he's long since thought that she looked best this way, without makeup, her hair a little mussed, not pretending in the slightest. Now is no exception. It keeps him from looking away from her as he starts to carefully draw himself away, not wanting to stir her, but figuring he might as well start breakfast or something. He doesn't get very far before he can't help reaching over, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, chest tight as he does. "I love you," he says, soft. It's been true for a long damn time now, he thinks, and maybe he wouldn't know how to tell her directly, but there's still something almost relieving in saying so, proof in itself that it's more than true. He's goddamn crazy about her, and he can't pretend otherwise.

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Jerry just about smiles at that, though it isn't much of one, soft, fond, his fingers brushing against her cheek. She's as good as just asking him to say it again, but he doesn't mind that. Little as he knows about all of this, he's pretty sure it isn't the sort of thing to establish once and never give voice to again, and especially when he didn't mean for her to hear it, he probably owes it to her to tell her the right way. It's certainly more than true enough. It has been for a long time, and he thinks maybe he should tell her that, too, but he doesn't know how. For the time being, this is enough.

"I love you," he says, voice still quiet, leaning in for another kiss once he's spoken. "Grace —" That's it, though, all there really is to say, even if it feels like there should be more, like just that much isn't sufficient. It hardly seems to sum it up, how crazy he is about her, how absolutely lost he was without her, but he'll just have to hope all of that speaks for itself.

That moment of hesitation is enough for Grace to arch up and kiss him again, deep and slow, if only to hide how terribly moved she is to hear him say that. Even knowing it's the sort of thing other people get worked up over, too, it flusters her to let on how much it means to her, even as she tries to let him know. If she's honest with herself, she'd stopped thinking anyone was ever going to love her until he came along. Young though she is, it seemed as if all her chances had passed her by already, and love a part of another life she's left behind.

"Jerry," she says, a soft exhale. He can't know how she's waited for this, perhaps more even than she realized. "Oh, Jerry. I love you so." She'll never get back any of what she's lost, but now, at least, she has something to hold to, someone to hold her.

It isn't even the first time she's said it, but it just about stops Jerry's heart to hear, or at least it feels like it. Maybe it should have been obvious before now. Hell, maybe it even was. There's a far cry, though, between that and having it put into words, and when he hadn't even intended for her to hear him, it means more than he wants to admit to have her saying it now. That alone makes any worries he might have had more than worth it. In retrospect, they seem pointless, anyway.

"Gracie," he murmurs, ignoring the way his voice wavers slightly. Hand trailing down her neck and over her shoulder, he kisses her again, not wanting to move yet. Distantly, he remembers having intended to make them breakfast, but that seems considerably less important after this. With as long as he waited to say anything at all, food can wait a little longer now, too.

Grace wouldn't move from here for anything, not until he wants to, maybe not even then. It's still early enough she doesn't have any qualms about staying in bed, languid beneath him, content enough she might as well be purring. Before this and him, she can't recall having had the urge to say those words to any of the men she's known, not in any serious way. She's put more emotion into the recitation of lines than her love life. Now, though, she thinks she gets it, the pleasure of saying it as well as hearing it. It slips out so easily once said, and the way he says her name is the second-best thing she's ever heard. Hands sliding down over his back, she arches up against him, a leg hiking up against his side to keep him close. Just the way he kisses her feels like hearing it all over again.

Jerry really isn't expecting her to try to keep him here like this, though maybe he should have, but he responds to it almost instinctively, his hand hooking against her thigh, holding her close. There isn't anywhere he'd want to be right now anyway, thoughts of cooking breakfast all but gone. At a time like this, it only makes sense to stay near her, lips parting against hers as he leans into the kiss, her words still playing like an echo in his head, more stunning than he'd have expected. On some level, he knew she had to love him, but it's different put into words, especially after all they've been through. It's just like she said, really. Much as it might have stung to think she didn't already know he loved her, that knowing is a far cry from hearing it, which just makes him want to tell her again. He will, he thinks, when he can bring himself to draw back.

It's not at all how Grace expected this morning to go when she fell asleep last night, too sleepy and languid even to trouble fully dressing again, assuming everything would go the same as usual. It's easily the nicest surprise she's ever had, though. Even now, she just keeps replaying his words in her head, arching up against him. His body warm and solid against hers, she lets out a soft sound against his mouth, fingers sliding into his hair. Today of all days, she's in even less of a hurry than normal to get out of bed or to stop kissing him, not caring about her breath or her mussed hair or anything like that. Lingering here with him feels like the only thing that matters.

It's nothing new, when it comes to Grace, just how easily he can get lost in her, lose any focus on anything else. Now, Jerry thinks it might be truer than ever. Though he's too preoccupied with kissing her to free his mouth to speak again just yet, it's about all he can think, that he loves her, an easier thought to bear now that he's said it out loud to her. He's loved her for a long time, he knows, longer than even makes sense, but he isn't sure he knew just how much until now. Still clasping her leg against his side, he echoes the sound she's made, only half-aware of it, eyes shut as he leans into the kiss.

Breaking away for a moment to catch her breath, Grace laughs, a low, throaty sound, her head spinning. It feels too good, being here like this, all wound up in him, his voice in her head. Time and repetition haven't made this any less wonderful to her, only moderately less exciting because of the lack of danger, something that's exciting to her in and of itself. Hearing those words still feels like something akin to a miracle, dreamlike after having wanted it so badly for so long. "Now this," she sighs with another quick kiss, "is what I call a good morning."

"Yeah?" Jerry asks, grinning as he leans in to kiss her again. Whatever nervousness he might have felt, whatever confusion there might have been earlier, all of that seems worth it now to hear her sound like this, so warm and pleased, and to know he was the cause of it. Even now, it almost doesn't make sense, like something that shouldn't be possible. That's all the more reason not to take it for granted, as if that were even possible. She's right, after all. It really is a good morning. That doesn't mean there's any reason to leave it at that. "I bet I can make it a better one."

Grace arches an eyebrow, smiling wryly. "Is that so?" she asks, though she has no doubt that's the case. Hell, he could lie here and just keep telling her he loves her, and that in itself would make the morning absolute bliss. She has a pretty good idea what he actually means, though, and she can scarcely conceal her approval. Just because she can guess doesn't mean she doesn't want a demonstration. "Well, how do you mean to do that?"

"Oh, I don't know," Jerry says, too casual, clearly not meaning it in the slightest, even as he lifts his shoulders in a shrug. "I've got a few ideas. I'm still deciding." Leaning in to kiss her again, he lets his hand drop lower, fingers brushing along the outside of her thigh. It's true enough that he does have a few ideas, but they're all related, and when he has no doubt that she knows that already, he might as well let her give him a few cues, too.

Humming appreciatively, Grace kisses him, trying to ignore how quickly so little can get to her. It's a lazy morning, and she can't see any reason to rush. "Who says you've got to pick just one?" she asks, tipping her head to press a kiss to his shoulder. Starting the day with him has become commonplace now, and, despite some of the obstacles still in her way, happiness isn't the stranger it us to be. Today, though, she's happier than she's been in quite some time, which is saying something. She could just about float away with it.

"Oh, I never said that," Jerry says, laughing as he shakes his head, kissing her again when he can. There's nowhere to be other than right here, nothing he'd prefer doing to being with her; he had no intention of just picking one option and settling for that in the first place. Even now, having all this time available to them seems like a luxury, and one to make the most of. If anything, he thinks he'd be crazy not to, all the more so at a time like this. "But I've still got to figure out where to start."

Grace hums, thoughtful, her fingers tracing along his side. "Well," she says, "I suppose that depends on what you want most." She wants so much to give him whatever will make him happy. Her skills are few and far between, and she knows she isn't like the other girls of her time, not really raised to be prepared for a relationship, but he doesn't seem to mind and she's got other talents to make up for it. She just means to do all she can to keep him pleased in her own ways. Arching slightly, she pulls the hem higher on her slip, easy enough to take off even from under him and all she could be bothered to put on before she slept last night. That, too, she figures, is a good enough place to begin.

"I suppose it does," says Jerry, all teasingly innocent, his hand sliding higher once she's started drawing her slip up so he can help tug it off her entirely. It's certainly not doing any good where it is, and even if it were, he'd be hard-pressed to ignore a suggestion like that at a time like this. Even without intending to hurry, he can't think of a single good reason why she should stay dressed if she doesn't want to be. She's beautiful, warm beneath him, all his, the latter of which still seems noteworthy even after months; she loves him, a thought that's headier than it has any right to be. He might not have meant for her to hear him, but he's sure as hell glad that she did. "Gracie," he murmurs against her mouth, "I just want you."

No matter how many times she hears it from him, Grace never tires of that. It's one of the few constants in her life, needing to be wanted in one way or another, and he fills it time and again, today more than ever. That it's not news makes it no less exhilarating. Kissing him, she runs her hands down his back, tipping her head to brush her nose against his cheek and kiss his jaw. "I'm yours, Jerry," she says softly. "All of me, every bit." Just saying it, she feels as if she's shaking. It's the kind of ridiculous, romantic thing someone might say in a movie, and she's alright with that, with playing as if everything is a film, but it's altogether different, even terrifying, when she means it. He's the nearest thing she's had to a home in such a long time.

At a loss as to how he could respond to that, Jerry just ducks his head to kiss her harder for it, hand skimming along her side. Even now, even with what he's just told her and been told in return, this is the best way he's got to tell her how much hearing something like that means, the language he's most accustomed to speaking with her. For a long time, or at least what felt like it, it was the only one they really had. Now, that's far from the truth, Grace's words themselves serving as proof of that, but this still comes more easily than anything else. He doubts — or hopes as much, anyway, for all that he's thinking about it at all — she'll hold it against him.

Grace hardly minds his silence on the subject; if anything, she's grateful for it, still not altogether certain how to broach this kind of intimacy, something that extends so far beyond the physical. Sex is simple, familiar. Love, before him, the romantic sort of connection that draws two people together, that was a mystery only glimpsed on the screen. There's a world between experiencing it and what happens in the movies, and she's still feeling her way through it, attempting to figure out how to say what she means without resorting to someone else's lines or being just a little afraid, even now, even with him, of being too honest, too vulnerable. It's easier to communicate like this, her body pressed to his, hand sliding down to find his so she can lace their fingers together.

As far as Jerry's concerned, he's heard everything he needs to, anyway. There's no way to beat what she's said already, and when it feels this good to kiss her, his body pressed close to hers, he can't imagine that there's really anything repetition could do for him that this doesn't. Even though he finds himself with the same words on the tip of his tongue again, he just slides it against hers instead, eyes half-shut as he leans into the kiss, hips rocking down before he's thought about it. No matter how much time has passed, there's still a part of him that feels like he has to get as much as he can while it's possible. Right now, he doubts she'll mind. Fingers still entwined with hers, he lifts her hand, holding it to the mattress near the side of her head. The sooner he lets go of her, the sooner he can get undressed, but that's not happening yet.

Grace stifles a moan against his mouth, fingers lacing more tightly through his. It's early, her body still heavy with sleep; she wants him all the same, sure she's more than up to the task even so. "Jerry," she whispers, hips rolling against his in response, "Jerry..." When she's still riding high on the happiness of finally hearing those words, she has no desire to do anything but drag this out, take their time enjoying each other, but she still wants something. She can feel heat and pressure tugging at her, a need she has no reason to conceal. Whatever he wants from her, she'll gladly give, but kissing him just isn't enough. It serves only to make her desperate for something more.

At first, Jerry's only response is a stifled moan of his own, a response he can't help to the way her hips lift in turn. These days, winding up like this is more common than not, something normal for them rather than a rare occasion to make the most of, but he's never enjoyed being with her any less because of it. If anything, he enjoys it all the more, not having to worry about how much or how little time they have, not needing to be careful not to leave a mark anywhere on her, not thinking about someone else being in his position. It's just the two of them now. She loves him, and that means a hell of a lot more than he could ever begin to say. "Grace," he murmurs, as if in response, ducking his head to kiss along her jaw. "What do you want?" Right now, he thinks he'd do just about anything she asked, though that's hardly uncommon.

It's not an unusual question from Jerry. He's thoughtful with her, more so than the men she's slept with before; he actually gives a damn what she wants. She's not entirely convinced the others even thought she would know what to say if asked. But that's Jerry. Long before they could admit to anything they felt, he showed her more kindness and affection than anyone else. Still, however common the question, it's still heady to be asked, her eyes closing as she tips her head back, lashes fluttering, and tries to find an answer and her voice. "Jerry," she sighs, fingers curling in his hair. It's an answer in itself, really. As long as he's here, she'll take anything. It isn't as if he doesn't know what she likes anyway. "I — your mouth." It feels so good on her skin, and it's too early for her to want to leap right into anything else just yet.

As soon as she's spoken, Jerry nods, though it isn't much of a movement when he gets distracted so easily by kissing her again. It's the simplest goddamn thing, but even that, he can never get enough of with her, at least at times like this, when they can afford to be slow and lazy about it, to take as much of their time as they please. They might have some other obligations here, but it's not anything like it was before; she's all his (she loves him), and that's worth everything. Even so, he breaks away before too much longer, lips trailing along her jaw again, then down to her neck, her collarbone, the soft curve of one breath. "Okay," he murmurs, though it comes out more a hum than a word, muffled against her skin. "Anything, Gracie."

Almost as soon as he starts to move, Grace is torn between urging him on and saying she's changed her mind. She wants to keep kissing him, to keep feeling his hands moving over her skin, though it isn't as if she can complain about the way his lips feel as he traces lower. The only thing she's utterly sure of is that she wants more — this and anything else she can get, everything there is he can give. A hand curling in his hair, she runs the other along his side to his hip and up again, just to keep touching him, as if that might steady her somehow. "Anything," she echoes, "I just want you." The particulars of it are hard to care about at the moment.

Though there's nothing especially unusual about this, in spite of the circumstances, there's something remarkably heady about hearing her say that, a quiet sound catching in Jerry's throat as he works his way lower. Even having had far longer here together than they did back in Los Angeles, stealing an evening or a few hours in an afternoon whenever they could, he isn't sure he'll ever fully get used to this; he doesn't think he'd want to. It's better to have it remain this significant, her words echoing in his head as he trails down, drawing her nipple into his mouth. That he just wants her, too, goes without saying. It's all he's wanted for a long time.

Edited 2013-06-23 18:39 (UTC)