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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"Well, it's true," Jerry murmurs, absently stroking her hair with his free hand, expression nothing but fond. He wants her badly, that hasn't changed, but it isn't enough to have him in any kind of a hurry. That's not the point, and even if he doesn't think he could hold out all that long, for the moment, he's more than content enough just to lie here with her, keeping her close. This is hardly how he anticipated this morning would go, but he's pretty fucking glad that it has. "Gracie."

It leaves her reeling, knowing how hard it hits her to hear him say these things. It's as if she hasn't known that for months, somehow. Grace knows he loves her, she's known it for ages, but this now, this is something altogether different, her heart full to bursting, as if she might cry with happiness. She hides her face against his neck, glowingly bashful as she could never be around anyone else. She forces a deep breath, letting out a shaky laugh. "Do you know," she says, "I don't think I've ever been so happy as you make me." It's a bittersweet thing, a reminder of a lonely life, but for now, she prefers to think of the sweet.

It's not as nice to hear as it probably should be, if only because Jerry doesn't like to think about the reasons why that's the case. On one hand, it does mean a lot that he can be that for her, especially when he remembers too well not being the only guy in her life, and when it took so long for them to get here at all. For a while, he hadn't thought that they ever would. Even so, despite the fact that he wouldn't know how to say so, he wishes things had been better for her before. Ducking his head to press a kiss to the top of hers, he shrugs easily. "Yeah, well," he says, "I could say the same."

There isn't a thing in the world that could make Grace stop fighting for more than she's got, but here and now, his arms around her, the ghost of his kiss against her hair, she's content all the same. It's easy with him to think she could be happy just as she is, her life quiet and simple. Though she isn't sure she's meant for that sort of thing, he makes her want to try, at least. Pressing a kiss to his neck, she smiles, lifting herself a moment later to lean over him, kiss him on the lips. "Good," she says softly. "I'm glad. I want to make you happy." They've both had a hard enough time of it already. Surely it's time for a change.

"You do," Jerry says, fingers running absently through her hair. Though he thinks it should be obvious, he's at least figured out that he can't really count on that being the case. That hardly matters, though, when he has no reason to mind saying so, when he spent so long not really able to. He could have, probably, but it wouldn't have been fair to either of them back home, just like doing anything more to try to get her to stay that morning wouldn't have been. Now, though, it's all different. He can be as selfish as he damn well pleases, at least where Grace's affection is concerned. "Of course you do."

Grace knows that, of course. He can't be happy all the time, but she sees the way he looks at her, the way she can make him grin sometimes doing nothing at all. Moments like those mean the world to her. He doesn't have to say a word and her whole heart lights up with it, warm and satisfied. She couldn't ever tire of hearing it, though, nudging gently against his hand before she presses a kiss to his shoulder. "Well, at least there's one thing I'm good at," she jokes. "Good thing it's an important one."

There's plenty she's good at, Jerry thinks, though he doubts the point is for him to just go on and on about it. He wouldn't know where to start, anyway. He just knows that, while some of the more conventional things may not be her forté, there's a lot more to consider than just that, especially since he doesn't care much about any of it. "Goes a pretty long way," he says, clearly teasing, the corners of his mouth lifting a little higher. "I mean, I'd say it counts for a lot, anyway."

"You would," Grace says lightly, raising herself up to kiss him again. She would, too, though. Oh, she used to think those girls were silly, but she's not like them even so. His happiness may be the most important thing to her, the best thing she can do, but it isn't as if she's given up on her own dreams. She means to have her own career even if he marries her one day, and she can't imagine Jerry's the kind of man to expect otherwise. Smiling, she leans close, eyes closed. "I love you."

"Yeah," Jerry says, soft. "I love you, too." It's been true for so long that saying it still feels a little strange, though not in any kind of way that he minds. If anything, it's all the more reason to keep telling her as much, something he doubts she'd have any kind of objection to. Kissing her again, he draws back only to shift beside her, doing his best to roll them over so he can be on top of her. Lying in bed is all well and good, but he can't hold out forever.

Grace laughs, rolling easily at his urging, her arms wrapping around him again. Maybe it's unnecessary to keep on saying it, but oh, she loves to hear it. It feels as if she's waited her whole life for it, as if those words have brought an unexpected release, a relief. She has somewhere she belongs, someone to belong to. "It's so silly," she says. "I already knew you did. I don't know why it means so much to hear." It's not like it changes anything. He's loved her for a long time now, she knows he has. And yet, it matters so much.

"Yeah, I don't know either," Jerry says, kissing her jaw, her neck, his hand trailing from her waist down over her hip and thigh, mostly just to keep touching her. For that matter, he doesn't know why it took so long to say, when he knew he did all that time, too -- knew it practically since he met her, he thinks -- but that doesn't have to matter now. What does is that he has said it, that so has she, that there's still a whole morning ahead of them to spend like this. "But I'm glad it does."

Edited 2013-11-17 04:56 (UTC)

"Well, of course it does," Grace says, though she's just finished saying she doesn't know why. It still seems readily apparent to her that it would, after all. A declaration of love isn't easily come by. She'd hardly thought to receive any meant genuinely in her life, at least until he wandered along into her life. More than that, after everything they've been through, it feels good — a confirmation, perhaps, of why she fought to get here at all. Her eyes closed, she sighs, tracing circles against his shoulder. "It means everything to me. You do."

Lifting his head, Jerry leans in to kiss her properly at that, not sure, for a moment, what else he can do. Though everything's been different here, though he wouldn't have expected anything to be like it was before, it still means the goddamn world to hear that, to know she means it, that nothing's going to get in their way now. It's all been made simple, and just the fact of that is somehow stunning. Before they'd shown up in Darrow, he isn't sure he thought it ever would be. "I love you," he says again, soft, mouth still against hers. Just saying it — being able to — he thinks might mean even more than hearing it back.

Grace cups his face in her hands, kissing him slow and deep, smiling slightly. She thinks she could spend the whole day just listening to him say that, given the chance, and though in reality it might grow tiresome soon enough, she doesn't think the phrase itself would ever grow old. He could have passed her by in the club that night, but he didn't. He could have never seen her a second time, he could have been found out and killed or she could have been or she could have hit the road for good, or she could have found herself here all alone. There are so many ways they could have been, should have been, kept apart. For all her frivolity, she can't waste a moment of this. "Good boy," she teases warmly, hands moving down along his sides to his hips. "See, it's much nicer to say it when I'm awake."

"I'm not complaining," Jerry says, half-teasing in turn, his mouth curved into a crooked grin against hers. Maybe he hadn't meant for her to hear it originally, but that doesn't make it any less true, and there's no denying that this has worked out for the best. His chest is still tight with some emotion that he can't quite name, and that's her, he knows that, even if it isn't really that surprising that she's returned the sentiment, now that she's actually done so. He still wouldn't have wanted to assume. Now, though, that confirmation, it's worth a hell of a lot more than he'd know how to tell her. "Guess it's a good thing you woke up."

"Oh, very," Grace says, fingers drifting idly along his skin. It isn't as if it really changes anything, but she doesn't care. It matters all the same, and now they have this nice peaceful morning to themselves. That might have been just as true twenty minutes ago as it is now, but it's more special than it was then, her heart lighter, her smile softer. "I wish every morning could be this nice."

"Hey, the others were alright," Jerry says, though it's not much of a protest. He knows what she means, though to that end, it's not like this is something that could be replicated, which he has to hope won't make any difference. Oh, sure, he can tell her he loves her all day, but if it's the feeling that comes with hearing it for the first time that she's looking for, that's a one-time occurrence. (He wishes, more than anything, that he could stop fucking worrying, but as rarely present as it is anymore, he thinks it might always be just in the back of his head.) "But I know what you mean."

Grace laughs, rolling over to kiss him. "The others were better than alright," she says. "But you know what I mean, yes, yes. Well, and it's not every morning we get to just lie in like this, nowhere to be. I'm just happy you don't have to hurry off to work." There's plenty more she'd like to do before he goes anywhere at all.

"Yeah," Jerry says, fingers brushing along her cheek, "me, too." In that sense, this is fairly uncommon, though at least it's not such a rarity that there'll be no chance of a repeat occurrence in the near future. Even cops have to get days off sometimes, and when he does, he can't think of any better way to spend them than like this, not having to worry about anything or anyone else, nowhere that either of them need to be, no one who'll be wondering where they are. She might be glad that he doesn't have to go off to work, but he's glad that she doesn't have to go off to be with another man. "It is nice."

For a few moments, Grace just looks up at him, smiling, soaking in the luxury of nothing to do and nowhere to be and how good it feels to just lie here with him. And then she lifts herself up just enough to kiss him, drawing him back down with her, fingers curling in his hair. Sometimes actions say a hell of a lot more than words, and she just doesn't have words for this. It's not like she's got to say anything anyway when she's sure he gets it.

As soon as her mouth meets his, Jerry leans into it, kissing her slow and deep, letting her pull him down. Like she's basically just said, there's absolutely no reason not to, and she's irresistible. Just the fact that that can be true now, that he doesn't have to fight hard to ensure that it isn't, would be reason enough to follow through anyway, his hand skimming along her side, fingers ghosting over the curve of her waist and her ribs. She's all his now, she loves him, and he isn't sure he wants that ever to stop being remarkable.

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