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geekystudmuffinTitle: A Temporary Madness
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
innerslytherin and severity_softly
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Rossi/Prentiss
WC: ~5200
Summary: Emily heard what Dave said in the interview room, and she didn't like what she heard. Dave didn't like Emily's reaction.
Notes: Betaed by the lovelyresolucidity. SPOILERS FOR "The Reckoner".
"Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being 'in love' which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident." -St. Augustine
Dave had loved Emma. He'd loved her more than anything, and the memories this case had dragged up were painful. He tucked the little locket in his breast pocket, running his hand down the front of his coat to ostensibly smooth it, though he was paying more attention to the way his fingers ran over the little bump it made under the fabric.
He knew he was going to have hell to pay when he got home, but for the brief time he was on the jet, he let himself be lost in memory after Aaron went back to his reading. It was a lifetime ago, and it was the past. And in the present he loved Emily deeply, but that couldn't ever change his feelings for Emma. He couldn't turn off his emotions. He just hoped Emily would understand that.
Of course the bigger problem was that Emily only heard his lie, and not what he'd told Aaron. When Emily swept right past him off the jet and then out of the bullpen without so much as looking at him, Dave sighed and wondered if she would beat him with the bouquet if he brought roses with him when he showed up at her brownstone.
Probably.
But he had to show up at her place anyway. This wasn't something he could just let sit if he didn't want to lose Emily too.
There were faint lights showing through the windows--the kitchen downstairs and the upstairs hallway--but he wasn't surprised when the door was locked. What did surprise him was that the deadbolt was locked too. And the chain.
There wasn't exactly a key for the chain.
He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, then called through the barely open door. "Emily," he said. He could buy her a new chain if he had to break this one to get in, but he didn't think that would make her any more likely to forgive him. Or even listen to him. "God damn it, don't do this."
He could hear her moving around inside. She was still wearing her shoes, which meant she was probably expecting him inside at some point, and had made a point to stay dressed so he wouldn't get his hopes up for forgiveness any time soon. He waited for a long moment for her to say something, and when it was apparent she wasn't speaking, he sighed and leaned on the door frame.
He stuck his foot against the door so she couldn't slam it, then said, "I'm letting the moths in."
Her footsteps approached, swift and clicking against the tiles, and he found himself being grateful for sturdy shoes as she shoved the door hard, pinching his foot. "You're letting a lot of hot air in too," she snapped, and then she was gone in the direction of the kitchen.
"With the freeze radiating off you, it's balancing out," he said, frowning. He heard her footsteps stop dead.
There was silence for a few troubled heartbeats, then she snarled, "Oh, fuck you. I'm sure you can find some married woman to warm you up."
He clenched his jaw, trying not to get pissed off, but she was villainizing him without giving him a chance to speak. "Yeah, I probably could, if I wanted to," he said matter-of-factly. It was probably dumb, but she should know better about him. "Let me in or I'm going to break your chain."
"Why not, you've been yanking it for two years now!" she shouted back, and her footsteps retreated quickly up the stairs.
"Damn it," he grumbled, then took a step back. When her bedroom door slammed shut upstairs, he groaned, then took another step back before kicking in her door. It was surprisingly easy, and he made a mental note to replace her door frames with sturdier wood. Of course, whether he actually did had a lot to do with how this conversation went.
He picked up the wood shards on the floor and trashed them, then locked her door again and headed upstairs. "You could at least talk to me," he said, loud enough to be heard in her room from the stairwell.
"I think you did plenty of talking back at the Long Island police station," she retorted through the door. She must be leaning against it, to be that close. "I'm not sure what else you think you have to say."
"Well, for one thing, I wasn't talking to you in that station, was I? That makes a difference in what I have to say," Dave said, his voice lowering as he got close to her door too.
"Yeah, it means I get pretty lies," she said. Her voice was shaking. She hated losing control of her emotions like this, and he knew it. She would be blaming him not just for what she thought she knew, but for the way he was making her feel about it.
"Emily," he said, his voice gentling. "Please open the door." He wondered if she'd locked it. He took a breath when she didn't say anything, and put his hand on the knob. It wouldn't turn. "Emily." He wanted to pull her into his arms listening to her sound like that, but he'd probably get shot right now. "I never slept with Emma." She still didn't speak. "Pretty or not, that's not a lie."
She didn't answer, but he could hear her breathing unevenly through the door. After several long moments he heard something crash inside the room, and then the door handle stopped resisting him. By the time he got inside, Emily was halfway across the room. She was only wearing one shoe. A broken picture frame rested on the floor under the other shoe.
He stared at it for a moment, then looked over at her. She'd dropped onto the edge of the bed and had her head in her hands. "I never slept with Emma," he repeated. His body told him he needed to walk over there and comfort her, but his brain told him that would be idiotic. "You haven't ever lied to an unsub before?"
She took a couple of breaths, then whispered, "Not like that."
"You're capable," he told her. Of course, the difference here was that Dave had lied about sleeping with a woman he really loved, and he had damn well deserved her more than their unsub ever could have. But that was beside the point.
"Lying to him worked out really well, didn't it?" she asked bitterly. He could see that the tip of her nose was red. She still wouldn't look at him.
He shook his head. "I can't predict the future." He was still standing just inside the door, and he glanced down at the picture on the floor again. It was one of them together when Dave had taken her to meet his parents the first time. He sighed. "So I got a little upset, a little angry that she'd married a shit like him. He didn't deserve her, and it was vindictive of me; I'll give you that. But you know me, Emily. You know me better than that."
"Do I?" She shook her head. "I didn't know about Ray Finnegan or Emma Schuller either one. So how well do I really know you at all?" She finally looked over at him for a moment, her dark eyes wounded. Then a spasm of hurt crossed her face and she looked away again.
His chest suddenly ached. That was what this was about? For some reason Dave hadn't thought about it quite that way. He sighed. "How much would you hurt me if I came and sat down next to you?" he asked quietly.
"A lot," she said, but she sighed and slumped. "All right, I won't."
Dave nodded. Oddly, he still wasn't sure. He knew enough about women to know how they could get when they were this upset. Still, he walked across the room and sat next to her, leaning his elbows on his knees so he wouldn't touch her like he wanted to. He had a feeling this was going to take baby steps. "That's not who I am anymore," he said after a moment. "I tried to get out of going back, but with Reid out, I couldn't."
She didn't speak for a while, but finally she shook her head. "Was it all a lie, or just the part about sleeping with her?"
Dave frowned. "Be more specific."
"You ran into her at a hotel in Manhattan and tried to ruin her marriage?" she demanded.
Dave sighed and rubbed at his forehead. "Not exactly."
"Not exactly," she repeated, her voice flat. She looked at him again, her gaze demanding. And still hurt. Definitely still hurt.
"Emma and I were childhood friends. We were in love for a long time, but it never worked out. All those feelings were still there when I saw her a few years ago. They don't just disappear." Dave shrugged. "And it was still mutual."
"And she was married," Emily said. She got up and walked over to the window. He could see that her shoulders were tense again.
"She was already having trouble in her marriage. I know that's not an excuse, but like I said, the emotions were already in place. That wasn't something that was going to change." God, how was he going to explain this? "Neither of us acted on it, Emily, we just spent more time together after we met up again. It was... more bittersweet than anything else."
"Don't fucking justify it. You know how I feel about that," she said, her voice tight. She still had her back to him. She wrapped her arms around herself. "What are we doing?" she whispered. "Sometimes you're still such a mystery to me."
That fanned Dave's temper a little, but he tried to clamp down on it. What else was he supposed to do but justify himself? He sure as hell wasn't going to grovel or repent for his 'sins'. "What the hell do you mean, 'what are we doing'?"
"I don't know," she said, sounding miserable suddenly. "God, Dave, I just don't know. I love you, and I'm so damn angry at you, and..." She broke off, then whispered the last words. "And I'm scared."
Dave frowned, watching her for a long moment. His chest was aching again, even if he wasn't sure what she was talking about. After a moment, he got up and walked over to her. "What are you scared of?" he murmured, gently touching her arm. He could see her reflection in the darkened window.
She pressed her lips together, but leaned just a little into his touch. "The things I don't know about you," she said finally.
He took a breath, then moved closer, touching her other arm, rubbing his hands soothingly over her tense body. "That's it," he said. "If there's more, I don't really know what it is. I didn't even realize I hadn't talked about any of this. I don't like to think about it anymore."
"I shouldn't have let you be this important to me," she whispered. She turned and leaned against him, pressing her face against his neck. "I shouldn't have fallen for you."
He wrapped his arms around her, trying not to be hurt by that. "Why?"
"Because you're making me do scary things like trust you. I hate feeling this out of control." She slid an arm around him, holding on to him tightly.
"You're not out of control. I just broke in your damn door because I couldn't lose you." He pressed his lips to her hair.
"You're such a bastard," she said, but her voice was affectionate. She lifted her face to look at him, then brushed her lips gently against his before tucking her head down under his chin again. "I can't lose you either, Dave. But you sure as hell better remember I'm the jealous type."
"So am I," he said, stroking a hand down her back. "But you have nothing to be threatened by here." He turned his head to brush his lips to her ear, then whispered, "You really should take your other shoe off. It's hard to take you seriously when you're walking around lopsided."
She smacked his arm, laughing shakily. "God, you drive me crazy," she said, and stepped out of her other shoe. "Ugh, I broke the glass in the picture frame, didn't I?"
"Yeah. I broke your door frame. That chain was shit." He gave her a squeeze. "I love you."
"I love you too," she murmured. "And you're replacing that door frame."
"I'd planned on it." He sighed and pulled back to look at her, holding her gaze. "Are we okay, or do we need to talk about this more?"
She still looked unhappy, even if she obviously wasn't furious with him any more. She sighed through her nose and opened her mouth, then shrugged. "Why did you want to get out of going back there? What do you mean that's not who you are any more?"
"I'm not particularly proud of my connections back there. I mean, they helped this time, but..." He broke off and shook his head, looking away from her. "I don't really want to talk about it. And as far as Emma... I feel guilty." He looked back at her and stroked a hand over her cheek.
Her brows drew together and she cupped a hand against his cheek. She looked up at him for several heartbeats before speaking. "You can't always help who you care about," she said. "Ray Finnegan was your friend. It's not something to be ashamed of." She shook her head and kissed him softly. "Why do you feel guilty?"
"I really didn't go to her funeral. That part wasn't a lie." He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes, hoping what he was about to say wouldn't upset her. "I loved her. And she loved me. She was one of the best, brightest women I've ever known." He didn't add that if he'd married her, he doubted he'd be three times divorced by now. "And I've never even been to her grave," he finished grimly.
He felt Emily sigh, but then her arms went around him again and she leaned her head on his shoulder. "And if she loved you, she would understand that," she said quietly. "It's hard not to feel inadequate when you feel like you're being compared to someone like her. I don't feel threatened by your ex-wives, because you chose to end those relationships. She's different."
"She's also gone," Dave said, opening his eyes again. "And I fucked that one up, even if I didn't realize until too late." He kissed her cheek. "With you, I'm determined not to fuck up again."
She turned her head to kiss him back, her fingers slipping into his hair. "I love you," she whispered between kisses, "and that scares me."
"You think it doesn't scare me?" he asked.
"You're not allowed to be scared," she murmured. "You've done this before." She laughed a few moments later though. "I guess maybe that's why you're scared."
"Maybe," Dave agreed, but was struck with something when she said that. He knew she'd been in love before, and had had relationships before. Was she talking about marriage? He closed his eyes. He had fucked up with Emma. He let her slip away. And when he said he was determined not to fuck up with Emily, he meant it. But she was right, the thought of a fourth marriage was scary. He opened his eyes again, and kissed her hair. "I love you."
Emily sighed and squeezed him gently. "I know. I'm sorry I locked you out."
"I don't care," he said, then a slow grin crossed his face. "Actually, you're pretty sexy when you're angry. It's only a shame I can't appreciate it until after the fact."
She made a face at him and slid a hand down to squeeze his ass. "You won't say that if I throw the shoe at you next time instead of a picture."
Dave just kept grinning at her. "You wouldn't do that. Might damage my roguish good looks."
She laughed and shook her head. "Yeah, and that's the only reason I keep you around, 'cause you're so sexy."
"I knew it," he replied, then cupped her cheek and kissed her slowly.
She hummed into the kiss, then pulled back and looked up at him. "You know I'm serious about you, right?" she asked quietly.
He ran his thumb over her cheek, and nodded. "You wouldn't have reacted like this if you weren't."
She nodded too. "Let's go to bed," she murmured after a moment. "Losing my temper wears me out."
He kissed her jaw. "Can I help you out of your suit?"
She tilted her head to give him better access. "That sounds nice, actually. Since you already helped me out of my shoes."
He pushed her coat off her shoulders, then started unbuttoning her blouse. He kissed over her shoulder as he revealed her skin. "I'm not going to fuck up with you, Emily, if you'll just be patient with me."
She let out a quiet noise and relaxed into his touch. "You're worth being patient for," she murmured. "And you've been plenty patient with me."
He kissed her collar bone, and slid his hands around her waist once her shirt was open. After a moment, he realized the day was catching up with him now that he was able to relax with her. He kissed her neck, then let out a heavy sigh and dropped his head to her shoulder. "Can we reschedule make up sex for tomorrow? I'm exhausted," he said, and lifted his head to look at her.
"Mmm." She ran her fingers through his hair and turned her head to look back. "I imagine you are." Her gaze softened and she brushed her lips gently against his. "I washed your pajamas the night before we left. They're in your drawer. Do you want something to drink?"
He smiled slowly, feeling a little warmed by her sudden care. He kissed her neck. "If you're drinking too," he said. He kissed her again, and went to change.
He listened to the rustle of cloth as she finished undressing, then glanced over in time to see her pulling her robe on. She flashed him a warm look and left the bedroom, so he assumed that meant they were both drinking. He finished changing and climbed into bed just as she came back, carrying two steaming mugs. "I used decaf," she said, which told him they were having Irish coffee.
She put both mugs on the bedside table, then hung up her robe and put on the dark blue silk nightgown he'd bought her on the anniversary of their first date. She turned off all the lights but the one beside the bed, then climbed in next to him.
He brushed his fingers through her hair, then leaned over to take his mug. He took a sip, then put it down on his nightstand and pulled her close. "I take it this means you forgive me," he murmured.
"Idiot," she said, snuggling against him. "Of course I forgive you." She splayed her fingers against his chest over his heart. After a while she said, "Are you okay?"
He took a deep breath and pressed his lips to her neck, then stayed there, enjoying the way she felt, and the smell of her soap. "I will be."
"Okay." She let out a long breath and he could feel her relaxing against him. "You're a good man, David," she said quietly. "I'm sorry that sometimes I let my own insecurity make me forget that."
"It's okay," he said, smiling against her skin. "I'm not going to let you run away from me if I can help it."
"I guess it helps that you're a profiler. You already understand my issues." She laughed. "I can't believe you broke the chain to get in. If I didn't already know how much you care, that would have told me something."
He chuckled. "Locking me out and then going upstairs to avoid talking to me counts as running away. I just told you, I can't have that," he said. He shifted closer and sighed, his mind drifting a little, back over their recent case. After a moment, he whispered, "Em," and kissed her jaw. "You're also one of the best and brightest women I've ever known."
She made a quiet noise and melted against him, slipping her arms around him and holding tightly. After a moment he heard her exhale shakily. Finally she whispered back, "Thank you."
He shook his head, a slow smile spreading on his face. "Don't need to thank me."
"Shh." She kissed him and rested her forehead against his cheek.
"Don't 'shh' me," he complained.
She made a noise that might have been laughter, but her breathing still sounded a little shaky, and she didn't speak. He hoped that was a good thing. He thought it was, so he reached over and took a drink of his Irish coffee. When he set it back down, his kissed her neck again, his lips hot from the drink.
"Mmm." She sighed. "I think you've ruined me for any other men, Rossi."
"Oh, good," he said conversationally, then slipped his hand down to her bare leg.
He felt her laugh. "I thought you were too tired," she teased, covering his hand with hers.
"You're very tempting," he murmured. "But I really just want to touch you." He really didn't think he was up to full sex. Not that he would turn anything she wanted to do to him down, but sex wasn't really the point. He wanted to feel her close, to know that what he'd messed up before was possible now, right here in his arms.
"I like the way you touch me," she said. She laced their fingers together and lifted her head to kiss him, then settled down again. "I like the way you hold me."
"You're beautiful," he whispered, then grinned. "I'm so lucky you find pigheadedness a turn on."
"Somehow you make it seem like an asset," she murmured. She pressed her lips against his skin so he could feel her smile.
He sighed, feeling warm and comfortable for the first time since they left for Long Island. "We should sleep."
"Mmhmm." Her fingers stroked lightly across his chest. "Love you, David," she whispered.
"I love you too," he said, and closed his eyes.
***
He slept late the next morning, waking momentarily when he felt Emily stirring next to him, but not rousing entirely. At one point he got up to use the bathroom and he could see it was light out, but he just did his business and collapsed back in the empty bed, feeling bleary and not awake enough. He was just dropping back off to sleep when he felt the bed dip under Emily's weight. She kissed his cheek and he opened his eyes long enough to see her putting a coffee mug on the nightstand on his side of the bed. Then her slender frame settled against his back and she wrapped an arm around his chest.
"Hi," she murmured, burying her face against his shoulder.
"Morning," he said, his voice hoarse from sleep. He thought about going for the coffee, but decided it was too much effort, so he just settled back against her. "Feels good to be home," he said, closing his eyes again. He remembered through sleep that this technically wasn't his home, but it didn't matter. "With you," he amended, because that was home.
She made a happy noise and tightened her arm around him. "Yeah," she whispered, and kissed his neck. "I always sleep better with you." Her breath tickled the back of his neck.
He hummed a noise of agreement, and ran his fingers over her arm. "Thank you for coffee," he mumbled.
"Would've been rude just to make some for myself," she said, her voice warm. She brushed her nose against his skin. "I like waking up with you."
"Probably better than sleeping with you, actually. Conscious to enjoy it," Dave said, smiling faintly. After a moment, he groaned and rolled over so he could kiss her. "I meant sleep literally. Otherwise it's a toss up," he said, sliding his hand down to give her a sleepy grope.
"Mmm." She arched into his touch and kissed him more hungrily than the first kiss.
"So incredibly sexy when you're just out of bed, looking sleepy, your hair all messy," he murmured, then kissed her with as much hunger as she'd kissed him, waking up slowly with each kiss.
She smiled at him. "Let's see what you think about that toss-up an hour from now," she said, stroking a hand down his side and kissing him again.
"Oh, sounds like a plan," he said, his tone suggestive. "Love you," he added, and she whispered the words back as he slid a hand down her thigh and back up, pushing her nightgown up as he did. God, she was wonderful, and she was his. His body was rested enough that it was responding much faster than it was trying to the night before. He hooked a leg around hers, and pulled her on top of him.
"Mmm, you are one sexy guy, Dave Rossi," she murmured, and leaned down to kiss him. Then she set about showing him just how sexy she thought he was.
Much later, when they were both catching their breath and tangled satedly together, Emily tracing lazy circles on his slightly-sweaty chest, she laughed. "You know, it's really pretty flattering that you kicked my door in last night," she teased.
He hummed a happy noise. "I figured it was less destructive than shooting through the locks," he joked back.
"Yeah, my neighbors might have wondered about that. It would be embarrassing to have a domestic disturbance call on us." She lifted her head from his shoulder and kissed his jaw.
"Yeah, that too," he said, chuckling and burying his fingers in her hair. After a moment he let out a content sigh and closed his eyes. "There's no toss up. That's the best way to wake up."
She hummed and snuggled a little closer. "It is pretty good," she agreed. "But of course, I was awake well before you were, so I don't know about the waking up part."
"Quiet," he said, and turned his head to kiss her forehead.
She laughed, then went quiet for a while, still tracing her circles over his skin. It was a comfortable silence, but he had the feeling she was thinking about something. He considered prompting her to say it, but decided to wait and see if she would come out with it on her own.
When she did, it wasn't what he'd been expecting.
"Dave," she said quietly, "will you marry me?"
He opened his eyes again, his brow creasing as a little jolt of something indefinable shot through him, then he shifted to look at her to make sure he'd heard correctly. "Did you... just ask me to marry you?"
She lifted her head and looked at him, her expression somewhere between excitement and what he thought was terror. "Yeah."
He opened his mouth, but then nothing came out. He didn't want that terror in her eyes to get any worse, but he was honestly a little shocked. After a moment, he exhaled the breath he'd been holding, then said, "This is a first."
Her eyebrows drew together and she bit her lip, then said, "A bad first or a good first?"
He huffed a breath, still feeling like it was hard to formulate full sentences. God, was this what happened to women when they got asked the same question? No wonder they always went a little weird afterward. "Not bad," he said, hopefully before she got less certain. She really had been talking about marriage the night before, and Dave's chest felt a little tight with sudden fear, but there was really only one answer. Anything else wasn't even something worth considering.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been silent, but Emily didn't look any more assured. Once he'd gathered his thoughts, though, a slow smile spread on his face and he leaned in and kissed her. "Good first," he whispered when the kiss broke. "You're amazing."
"Am I?" she said. She was a little breathless. "Is that a yes, then?"
"Yeah," Dave said, and kissed her again. "To both."
She let out a little noise of relief and slumped against him. "Oh good. God, now I see why men don't like proposing."
That pushed a genuine laugh from him, and he pulled her close. The laugh was genuine, but it was also sort of odd. After a moment, he couldn't deny that he was sort of terrified by the idea.
She hummed and kissed his throat. "I love you," she murmured. "And if I'm going to throw shoes at you, we ought to be married."
"I thought we agreed against that idea," Dave said. God, he was getting married. Again. And he hadn't even had the ring shopping and finding the right moment and all of that other stuff first to get used to the idea.
She laughed and snuggled against him. "Is this okay?" she asked. "I mean, really okay?"
"Yeah," Dave said. He wasn't quite sure how to explain what he was thinking, though.
"Hmm. Yeah, but?" she prompted.
"Not really a but," he said, stroking his hand over her skin. "I just..." He broke off and chuckled because he knew what he was about to say was sort of irrational. "I don't have a great track record here. I'd rather you be my girlfriend forever than become an ex-wife."
"Aww." She pushed herself up to kiss him softly. "How about your wife forever?" she murmured, brushing her thumb against his cheek. "I think we could manage that."
"Feels like wishful thinking," he said, hoping she would understand that he was scared and why without him having to spell it out.
She leaned in and kissed him again more slowly, then pulled back and met his gaze. "You deserve to have this last forever," she said quietly. "Whatever's happened in your past marriages, that's the past, and that's someone else. This is me, and you know damn well I'm not going anywhere." Her gaze searched his for a long moment, then she kissed him again.
He nodded slowly when the kiss broke, feeling the tightness in his chest loosen a little. He'd screwed up with Emma, but he wasn't going to here. She wasn't going to let him, and that was fine with him.
Authors:
innerslytherin and severity_softlyRating: PG-13
Pairing: Rossi/Prentiss
WC: ~5200
Summary: Emily heard what Dave said in the interview room, and she didn't like what she heard. Dave didn't like Emily's reaction.
Notes: Betaed by the lovely
resolucidity. SPOILERS FOR "The Reckoner"."Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being 'in love' which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident." -St. Augustine
Dave had loved Emma. He'd loved her more than anything, and the memories this case had dragged up were painful. He tucked the little locket in his breast pocket, running his hand down the front of his coat to ostensibly smooth it, though he was paying more attention to the way his fingers ran over the little bump it made under the fabric.
He knew he was going to have hell to pay when he got home, but for the brief time he was on the jet, he let himself be lost in memory after Aaron went back to his reading. It was a lifetime ago, and it was the past. And in the present he loved Emily deeply, but that couldn't ever change his feelings for Emma. He couldn't turn off his emotions. He just hoped Emily would understand that.
Of course the bigger problem was that Emily only heard his lie, and not what he'd told Aaron. When Emily swept right past him off the jet and then out of the bullpen without so much as looking at him, Dave sighed and wondered if she would beat him with the bouquet if he brought roses with him when he showed up at her brownstone.
Probably.
But he had to show up at her place anyway. This wasn't something he could just let sit if he didn't want to lose Emily too.
There were faint lights showing through the windows--the kitchen downstairs and the upstairs hallway--but he wasn't surprised when the door was locked. What did surprise him was that the deadbolt was locked too. And the chain.
There wasn't exactly a key for the chain.
He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, then called through the barely open door. "Emily," he said. He could buy her a new chain if he had to break this one to get in, but he didn't think that would make her any more likely to forgive him. Or even listen to him. "God damn it, don't do this."
He could hear her moving around inside. She was still wearing her shoes, which meant she was probably expecting him inside at some point, and had made a point to stay dressed so he wouldn't get his hopes up for forgiveness any time soon. He waited for a long moment for her to say something, and when it was apparent she wasn't speaking, he sighed and leaned on the door frame.
He stuck his foot against the door so she couldn't slam it, then said, "I'm letting the moths in."
Her footsteps approached, swift and clicking against the tiles, and he found himself being grateful for sturdy shoes as she shoved the door hard, pinching his foot. "You're letting a lot of hot air in too," she snapped, and then she was gone in the direction of the kitchen.
"With the freeze radiating off you, it's balancing out," he said, frowning. He heard her footsteps stop dead.
There was silence for a few troubled heartbeats, then she snarled, "Oh, fuck you. I'm sure you can find some married woman to warm you up."
He clenched his jaw, trying not to get pissed off, but she was villainizing him without giving him a chance to speak. "Yeah, I probably could, if I wanted to," he said matter-of-factly. It was probably dumb, but she should know better about him. "Let me in or I'm going to break your chain."
"Why not, you've been yanking it for two years now!" she shouted back, and her footsteps retreated quickly up the stairs.
"Damn it," he grumbled, then took a step back. When her bedroom door slammed shut upstairs, he groaned, then took another step back before kicking in her door. It was surprisingly easy, and he made a mental note to replace her door frames with sturdier wood. Of course, whether he actually did had a lot to do with how this conversation went.
He picked up the wood shards on the floor and trashed them, then locked her door again and headed upstairs. "You could at least talk to me," he said, loud enough to be heard in her room from the stairwell.
"I think you did plenty of talking back at the Long Island police station," she retorted through the door. She must be leaning against it, to be that close. "I'm not sure what else you think you have to say."
"Well, for one thing, I wasn't talking to you in that station, was I? That makes a difference in what I have to say," Dave said, his voice lowering as he got close to her door too.
"Yeah, it means I get pretty lies," she said. Her voice was shaking. She hated losing control of her emotions like this, and he knew it. She would be blaming him not just for what she thought she knew, but for the way he was making her feel about it.
"Emily," he said, his voice gentling. "Please open the door." He wondered if she'd locked it. He took a breath when she didn't say anything, and put his hand on the knob. It wouldn't turn. "Emily." He wanted to pull her into his arms listening to her sound like that, but he'd probably get shot right now. "I never slept with Emma." She still didn't speak. "Pretty or not, that's not a lie."
She didn't answer, but he could hear her breathing unevenly through the door. After several long moments he heard something crash inside the room, and then the door handle stopped resisting him. By the time he got inside, Emily was halfway across the room. She was only wearing one shoe. A broken picture frame rested on the floor under the other shoe.
He stared at it for a moment, then looked over at her. She'd dropped onto the edge of the bed and had her head in her hands. "I never slept with Emma," he repeated. His body told him he needed to walk over there and comfort her, but his brain told him that would be idiotic. "You haven't ever lied to an unsub before?"
She took a couple of breaths, then whispered, "Not like that."
"You're capable," he told her. Of course, the difference here was that Dave had lied about sleeping with a woman he really loved, and he had damn well deserved her more than their unsub ever could have. But that was beside the point.
"Lying to him worked out really well, didn't it?" she asked bitterly. He could see that the tip of her nose was red. She still wouldn't look at him.
He shook his head. "I can't predict the future." He was still standing just inside the door, and he glanced down at the picture on the floor again. It was one of them together when Dave had taken her to meet his parents the first time. He sighed. "So I got a little upset, a little angry that she'd married a shit like him. He didn't deserve her, and it was vindictive of me; I'll give you that. But you know me, Emily. You know me better than that."
"Do I?" She shook her head. "I didn't know about Ray Finnegan or Emma Schuller either one. So how well do I really know you at all?" She finally looked over at him for a moment, her dark eyes wounded. Then a spasm of hurt crossed her face and she looked away again.
His chest suddenly ached. That was what this was about? For some reason Dave hadn't thought about it quite that way. He sighed. "How much would you hurt me if I came and sat down next to you?" he asked quietly.
"A lot," she said, but she sighed and slumped. "All right, I won't."
Dave nodded. Oddly, he still wasn't sure. He knew enough about women to know how they could get when they were this upset. Still, he walked across the room and sat next to her, leaning his elbows on his knees so he wouldn't touch her like he wanted to. He had a feeling this was going to take baby steps. "That's not who I am anymore," he said after a moment. "I tried to get out of going back, but with Reid out, I couldn't."
She didn't speak for a while, but finally she shook her head. "Was it all a lie, or just the part about sleeping with her?"
Dave frowned. "Be more specific."
"You ran into her at a hotel in Manhattan and tried to ruin her marriage?" she demanded.
Dave sighed and rubbed at his forehead. "Not exactly."
"Not exactly," she repeated, her voice flat. She looked at him again, her gaze demanding. And still hurt. Definitely still hurt.
"Emma and I were childhood friends. We were in love for a long time, but it never worked out. All those feelings were still there when I saw her a few years ago. They don't just disappear." Dave shrugged. "And it was still mutual."
"And she was married," Emily said. She got up and walked over to the window. He could see that her shoulders were tense again.
"She was already having trouble in her marriage. I know that's not an excuse, but like I said, the emotions were already in place. That wasn't something that was going to change." God, how was he going to explain this? "Neither of us acted on it, Emily, we just spent more time together after we met up again. It was... more bittersweet than anything else."
"Don't fucking justify it. You know how I feel about that," she said, her voice tight. She still had her back to him. She wrapped her arms around herself. "What are we doing?" she whispered. "Sometimes you're still such a mystery to me."
That fanned Dave's temper a little, but he tried to clamp down on it. What else was he supposed to do but justify himself? He sure as hell wasn't going to grovel or repent for his 'sins'. "What the hell do you mean, 'what are we doing'?"
"I don't know," she said, sounding miserable suddenly. "God, Dave, I just don't know. I love you, and I'm so damn angry at you, and..." She broke off, then whispered the last words. "And I'm scared."
Dave frowned, watching her for a long moment. His chest was aching again, even if he wasn't sure what she was talking about. After a moment, he got up and walked over to her. "What are you scared of?" he murmured, gently touching her arm. He could see her reflection in the darkened window.
She pressed her lips together, but leaned just a little into his touch. "The things I don't know about you," she said finally.
He took a breath, then moved closer, touching her other arm, rubbing his hands soothingly over her tense body. "That's it," he said. "If there's more, I don't really know what it is. I didn't even realize I hadn't talked about any of this. I don't like to think about it anymore."
"I shouldn't have let you be this important to me," she whispered. She turned and leaned against him, pressing her face against his neck. "I shouldn't have fallen for you."
He wrapped his arms around her, trying not to be hurt by that. "Why?"
"Because you're making me do scary things like trust you. I hate feeling this out of control." She slid an arm around him, holding on to him tightly.
"You're not out of control. I just broke in your damn door because I couldn't lose you." He pressed his lips to her hair.
"You're such a bastard," she said, but her voice was affectionate. She lifted her face to look at him, then brushed her lips gently against his before tucking her head down under his chin again. "I can't lose you either, Dave. But you sure as hell better remember I'm the jealous type."
"So am I," he said, stroking a hand down her back. "But you have nothing to be threatened by here." He turned his head to brush his lips to her ear, then whispered, "You really should take your other shoe off. It's hard to take you seriously when you're walking around lopsided."
She smacked his arm, laughing shakily. "God, you drive me crazy," she said, and stepped out of her other shoe. "Ugh, I broke the glass in the picture frame, didn't I?"
"Yeah. I broke your door frame. That chain was shit." He gave her a squeeze. "I love you."
"I love you too," she murmured. "And you're replacing that door frame."
"I'd planned on it." He sighed and pulled back to look at her, holding her gaze. "Are we okay, or do we need to talk about this more?"
She still looked unhappy, even if she obviously wasn't furious with him any more. She sighed through her nose and opened her mouth, then shrugged. "Why did you want to get out of going back there? What do you mean that's not who you are any more?"
"I'm not particularly proud of my connections back there. I mean, they helped this time, but..." He broke off and shook his head, looking away from her. "I don't really want to talk about it. And as far as Emma... I feel guilty." He looked back at her and stroked a hand over her cheek.
Her brows drew together and she cupped a hand against his cheek. She looked up at him for several heartbeats before speaking. "You can't always help who you care about," she said. "Ray Finnegan was your friend. It's not something to be ashamed of." She shook her head and kissed him softly. "Why do you feel guilty?"
"I really didn't go to her funeral. That part wasn't a lie." He drew a deep breath and closed his eyes, hoping what he was about to say wouldn't upset her. "I loved her. And she loved me. She was one of the best, brightest women I've ever known." He didn't add that if he'd married her, he doubted he'd be three times divorced by now. "And I've never even been to her grave," he finished grimly.
He felt Emily sigh, but then her arms went around him again and she leaned her head on his shoulder. "And if she loved you, she would understand that," she said quietly. "It's hard not to feel inadequate when you feel like you're being compared to someone like her. I don't feel threatened by your ex-wives, because you chose to end those relationships. She's different."
"She's also gone," Dave said, opening his eyes again. "And I fucked that one up, even if I didn't realize until too late." He kissed her cheek. "With you, I'm determined not to fuck up again."
She turned her head to kiss him back, her fingers slipping into his hair. "I love you," she whispered between kisses, "and that scares me."
"You think it doesn't scare me?" he asked.
"You're not allowed to be scared," she murmured. "You've done this before." She laughed a few moments later though. "I guess maybe that's why you're scared."
"Maybe," Dave agreed, but was struck with something when she said that. He knew she'd been in love before, and had had relationships before. Was she talking about marriage? He closed his eyes. He had fucked up with Emma. He let her slip away. And when he said he was determined not to fuck up with Emily, he meant it. But she was right, the thought of a fourth marriage was scary. He opened his eyes again, and kissed her hair. "I love you."
Emily sighed and squeezed him gently. "I know. I'm sorry I locked you out."
"I don't care," he said, then a slow grin crossed his face. "Actually, you're pretty sexy when you're angry. It's only a shame I can't appreciate it until after the fact."
She made a face at him and slid a hand down to squeeze his ass. "You won't say that if I throw the shoe at you next time instead of a picture."
Dave just kept grinning at her. "You wouldn't do that. Might damage my roguish good looks."
She laughed and shook her head. "Yeah, and that's the only reason I keep you around, 'cause you're so sexy."
"I knew it," he replied, then cupped her cheek and kissed her slowly.
She hummed into the kiss, then pulled back and looked up at him. "You know I'm serious about you, right?" she asked quietly.
He ran his thumb over her cheek, and nodded. "You wouldn't have reacted like this if you weren't."
She nodded too. "Let's go to bed," she murmured after a moment. "Losing my temper wears me out."
He kissed her jaw. "Can I help you out of your suit?"
She tilted her head to give him better access. "That sounds nice, actually. Since you already helped me out of my shoes."
He pushed her coat off her shoulders, then started unbuttoning her blouse. He kissed over her shoulder as he revealed her skin. "I'm not going to fuck up with you, Emily, if you'll just be patient with me."
She let out a quiet noise and relaxed into his touch. "You're worth being patient for," she murmured. "And you've been plenty patient with me."
He kissed her collar bone, and slid his hands around her waist once her shirt was open. After a moment, he realized the day was catching up with him now that he was able to relax with her. He kissed her neck, then let out a heavy sigh and dropped his head to her shoulder. "Can we reschedule make up sex for tomorrow? I'm exhausted," he said, and lifted his head to look at her.
"Mmm." She ran her fingers through his hair and turned her head to look back. "I imagine you are." Her gaze softened and she brushed her lips gently against his. "I washed your pajamas the night before we left. They're in your drawer. Do you want something to drink?"
He smiled slowly, feeling a little warmed by her sudden care. He kissed her neck. "If you're drinking too," he said. He kissed her again, and went to change.
He listened to the rustle of cloth as she finished undressing, then glanced over in time to see her pulling her robe on. She flashed him a warm look and left the bedroom, so he assumed that meant they were both drinking. He finished changing and climbed into bed just as she came back, carrying two steaming mugs. "I used decaf," she said, which told him they were having Irish coffee.
She put both mugs on the bedside table, then hung up her robe and put on the dark blue silk nightgown he'd bought her on the anniversary of their first date. She turned off all the lights but the one beside the bed, then climbed in next to him.
He brushed his fingers through her hair, then leaned over to take his mug. He took a sip, then put it down on his nightstand and pulled her close. "I take it this means you forgive me," he murmured.
"Idiot," she said, snuggling against him. "Of course I forgive you." She splayed her fingers against his chest over his heart. After a while she said, "Are you okay?"
He took a deep breath and pressed his lips to her neck, then stayed there, enjoying the way she felt, and the smell of her soap. "I will be."
"Okay." She let out a long breath and he could feel her relaxing against him. "You're a good man, David," she said quietly. "I'm sorry that sometimes I let my own insecurity make me forget that."
"It's okay," he said, smiling against her skin. "I'm not going to let you run away from me if I can help it."
"I guess it helps that you're a profiler. You already understand my issues." She laughed. "I can't believe you broke the chain to get in. If I didn't already know how much you care, that would have told me something."
He chuckled. "Locking me out and then going upstairs to avoid talking to me counts as running away. I just told you, I can't have that," he said. He shifted closer and sighed, his mind drifting a little, back over their recent case. After a moment, he whispered, "Em," and kissed her jaw. "You're also one of the best and brightest women I've ever known."
She made a quiet noise and melted against him, slipping her arms around him and holding tightly. After a moment he heard her exhale shakily. Finally she whispered back, "Thank you."
He shook his head, a slow smile spreading on his face. "Don't need to thank me."
"Shh." She kissed him and rested her forehead against his cheek.
"Don't 'shh' me," he complained.
She made a noise that might have been laughter, but her breathing still sounded a little shaky, and she didn't speak. He hoped that was a good thing. He thought it was, so he reached over and took a drink of his Irish coffee. When he set it back down, his kissed her neck again, his lips hot from the drink.
"Mmm." She sighed. "I think you've ruined me for any other men, Rossi."
"Oh, good," he said conversationally, then slipped his hand down to her bare leg.
He felt her laugh. "I thought you were too tired," she teased, covering his hand with hers.
"You're very tempting," he murmured. "But I really just want to touch you." He really didn't think he was up to full sex. Not that he would turn anything she wanted to do to him down, but sex wasn't really the point. He wanted to feel her close, to know that what he'd messed up before was possible now, right here in his arms.
"I like the way you touch me," she said. She laced their fingers together and lifted her head to kiss him, then settled down again. "I like the way you hold me."
"You're beautiful," he whispered, then grinned. "I'm so lucky you find pigheadedness a turn on."
"Somehow you make it seem like an asset," she murmured. She pressed her lips against his skin so he could feel her smile.
He sighed, feeling warm and comfortable for the first time since they left for Long Island. "We should sleep."
"Mmhmm." Her fingers stroked lightly across his chest. "Love you, David," she whispered.
"I love you too," he said, and closed his eyes.
***
He slept late the next morning, waking momentarily when he felt Emily stirring next to him, but not rousing entirely. At one point he got up to use the bathroom and he could see it was light out, but he just did his business and collapsed back in the empty bed, feeling bleary and not awake enough. He was just dropping back off to sleep when he felt the bed dip under Emily's weight. She kissed his cheek and he opened his eyes long enough to see her putting a coffee mug on the nightstand on his side of the bed. Then her slender frame settled against his back and she wrapped an arm around his chest.
"Hi," she murmured, burying her face against his shoulder.
"Morning," he said, his voice hoarse from sleep. He thought about going for the coffee, but decided it was too much effort, so he just settled back against her. "Feels good to be home," he said, closing his eyes again. He remembered through sleep that this technically wasn't his home, but it didn't matter. "With you," he amended, because that was home.
She made a happy noise and tightened her arm around him. "Yeah," she whispered, and kissed his neck. "I always sleep better with you." Her breath tickled the back of his neck.
He hummed a noise of agreement, and ran his fingers over her arm. "Thank you for coffee," he mumbled.
"Would've been rude just to make some for myself," she said, her voice warm. She brushed her nose against his skin. "I like waking up with you."
"Probably better than sleeping with you, actually. Conscious to enjoy it," Dave said, smiling faintly. After a moment, he groaned and rolled over so he could kiss her. "I meant sleep literally. Otherwise it's a toss up," he said, sliding his hand down to give her a sleepy grope.
"Mmm." She arched into his touch and kissed him more hungrily than the first kiss.
"So incredibly sexy when you're just out of bed, looking sleepy, your hair all messy," he murmured, then kissed her with as much hunger as she'd kissed him, waking up slowly with each kiss.
She smiled at him. "Let's see what you think about that toss-up an hour from now," she said, stroking a hand down his side and kissing him again.
"Oh, sounds like a plan," he said, his tone suggestive. "Love you," he added, and she whispered the words back as he slid a hand down her thigh and back up, pushing her nightgown up as he did. God, she was wonderful, and she was his. His body was rested enough that it was responding much faster than it was trying to the night before. He hooked a leg around hers, and pulled her on top of him.
"Mmm, you are one sexy guy, Dave Rossi," she murmured, and leaned down to kiss him. Then she set about showing him just how sexy she thought he was.
Much later, when they were both catching their breath and tangled satedly together, Emily tracing lazy circles on his slightly-sweaty chest, she laughed. "You know, it's really pretty flattering that you kicked my door in last night," she teased.
He hummed a happy noise. "I figured it was less destructive than shooting through the locks," he joked back.
"Yeah, my neighbors might have wondered about that. It would be embarrassing to have a domestic disturbance call on us." She lifted her head from his shoulder and kissed his jaw.
"Yeah, that too," he said, chuckling and burying his fingers in her hair. After a moment he let out a content sigh and closed his eyes. "There's no toss up. That's the best way to wake up."
She hummed and snuggled a little closer. "It is pretty good," she agreed. "But of course, I was awake well before you were, so I don't know about the waking up part."
"Quiet," he said, and turned his head to kiss her forehead.
She laughed, then went quiet for a while, still tracing her circles over his skin. It was a comfortable silence, but he had the feeling she was thinking about something. He considered prompting her to say it, but decided to wait and see if she would come out with it on her own.
When she did, it wasn't what he'd been expecting.
"Dave," she said quietly, "will you marry me?"
He opened his eyes again, his brow creasing as a little jolt of something indefinable shot through him, then he shifted to look at her to make sure he'd heard correctly. "Did you... just ask me to marry you?"
She lifted her head and looked at him, her expression somewhere between excitement and what he thought was terror. "Yeah."
He opened his mouth, but then nothing came out. He didn't want that terror in her eyes to get any worse, but he was honestly a little shocked. After a moment, he exhaled the breath he'd been holding, then said, "This is a first."
Her eyebrows drew together and she bit her lip, then said, "A bad first or a good first?"
He huffed a breath, still feeling like it was hard to formulate full sentences. God, was this what happened to women when they got asked the same question? No wonder they always went a little weird afterward. "Not bad," he said, hopefully before she got less certain. She really had been talking about marriage the night before, and Dave's chest felt a little tight with sudden fear, but there was really only one answer. Anything else wasn't even something worth considering.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been silent, but Emily didn't look any more assured. Once he'd gathered his thoughts, though, a slow smile spread on his face and he leaned in and kissed her. "Good first," he whispered when the kiss broke. "You're amazing."
"Am I?" she said. She was a little breathless. "Is that a yes, then?"
"Yeah," Dave said, and kissed her again. "To both."
She let out a little noise of relief and slumped against him. "Oh good. God, now I see why men don't like proposing."
That pushed a genuine laugh from him, and he pulled her close. The laugh was genuine, but it was also sort of odd. After a moment, he couldn't deny that he was sort of terrified by the idea.
She hummed and kissed his throat. "I love you," she murmured. "And if I'm going to throw shoes at you, we ought to be married."
"I thought we agreed against that idea," Dave said. God, he was getting married. Again. And he hadn't even had the ring shopping and finding the right moment and all of that other stuff first to get used to the idea.
She laughed and snuggled against him. "Is this okay?" she asked. "I mean, really okay?"
"Yeah," Dave said. He wasn't quite sure how to explain what he was thinking, though.
"Hmm. Yeah, but?" she prompted.
"Not really a but," he said, stroking his hand over her skin. "I just..." He broke off and chuckled because he knew what he was about to say was sort of irrational. "I don't have a great track record here. I'd rather you be my girlfriend forever than become an ex-wife."
"Aww." She pushed herself up to kiss him softly. "How about your wife forever?" she murmured, brushing her thumb against his cheek. "I think we could manage that."
"Feels like wishful thinking," he said, hoping she would understand that he was scared and why without him having to spell it out.
She leaned in and kissed him again more slowly, then pulled back and met his gaze. "You deserve to have this last forever," she said quietly. "Whatever's happened in your past marriages, that's the past, and that's someone else. This is me, and you know damn well I'm not going anywhere." Her gaze searched his for a long moment, then she kissed him again.
He nodded slowly when the kiss broke, feeling the tightness in his chest loosen a little. He'd screwed up with Emma, but he wasn't going to here. She wasn't going to let him, and that was fine with him.
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Date: 2009-10-13 01:05 am (UTC)