#also yes i did have a word document on my computer titled ‘neck fic’

[unbridgeabledistances]

ian + mickeys neck (was thinking of the drunk ian fic and wondered if you would be interested in pursuing this idea further?) <3

anon i am CRYING thank u so much for this!!!! i have been feeling like i need to make my contribution to the “mickey’s neck” discourse for a while lmao and this is my opportunity (esp bc ian holding mickey in the 11x12 stills wrecked me)

in the spirit of following up 11x10 i decided to write this based on an amazing post @mickey-millagher made/a prompt that @pombby sent me about ian teaching mickey to swim at a public pool during lockdown at some point early s11- i hope u enjoy<3

(this is the tiniest notch steamier than what i usually write but it isn’t smutty fyi- tw for descriptions of choking😌)

--

There was no one at the park— the air hung heavy and humid over the empty picnic tables and wooden benches that punctuated the fields of dying grass. As much as people on the Southside were definitely not taking any part of this lockdown shit seriously, it didn’t surprise Ian how silent the public park was— there was still a scarcer number of people out on their stoops or lounging on street corners this summer. Ian guessed that the few people who didn’t think that this was a hoax realized that this COVID shit was serious enough that they couldn’t afford healthcare if they got it, or whatever— but regardless, that meant that this Southside summer was weirdly stagnant somehow, and felt different from the noisy and crowded rhythms of summers past.

It was the late morning, just as the air started heat like a convection oven as the sun rose over the skyline— and Ian had his heart set on teaching Mickey to swim today. The conversation had come up last night at dinnertime, when Debbie was complaining about the heat wave— and they had all started reminiscing about the rickety, tin-sided pool they used to put up in the backyard years ago until Carl had taken a hatchet to it when he was 11 when he was trying to tear it down. Sitting next to Mickey at the kitchen table, thighs pressed where their chairs were scooted close together, Ian had suddenly remembered his words from their road trip to the border, years ago now:

“You could try swimming across the border.”

“I never learned how, man.”

And he’d immediately opened his mouth, not catching the words before they moved from his brain to his mouth, and asked Mickey in the middle of the dinnertime chatter: “Hey Mick, did you ever actually learn to swim?”

It was funny, and arbitrary, and stupid; they were married now, but for some reason this small fact about Mickey, the fact that he used to not know how to swim and by now he might have learned without Ian’s knowledge, made something warm pool in Ian’s stomach. He’d known Mickey, and had been itching to be closer and closer to him, for a full decade—and there were still so many things that he didn’t know. And this was proof, this question that Ian still didn’t have the answer to about some weirdly fundamental aspect of Mickey’s identity— he was always going to want to keep asking things about Mickey. And he was always going to get to.

Mickey had looked him with daggers in his eyes, then flickered a defensive glance at all the smirks growing on Ian’s siblings’ faces. “Fuck you. I was doing plenty of other shit in Mexico, didn’t really get the chance to lounge on the fucking beach.”

Ian had reached under the table and placed a hand on Mickey’s knee—a peace offering, an apology for whatever Mickey-can’t-swim quips Carl and Lip would inevitably think up as a low blow the next time they all butted heads at breakfast time— but as the chatter about backyard pools and heat waves continued at the dinner table, Ian felt an idea stirring.

Which is why the next morning he’d woken his husband up by pressing a tender kiss to his jawbone, both of their skin damp and clammy from the heat in the stuffy bedroom, and whispered into his neck:

“I wanna try something today.”

Mickey’s mind had immediately veered in… other directions, his eyebrows raising in vaguely disappointed disbelief when Ian had explained his idea to go to the public pool and teach Mickey to swim with an exuberant grin on his face; but after some very enticing morning persuasion that had a lot to do with the fact that Mickey was still half asleep while Ian had pressed kisses down his spine and dragged him out of bed and handed him a pair of swim trunks, now they were at the public pool in the nearest park at midday, with Ian leading the way and Mickey dubiously and sleepily straggling behind him.

Ian slid open the lock on the chain-link fence that surrounded the pool, the same pool that was usually crawling with groups of teenagers smoking weed and toddlers in floaties who were sticky with melted ice cream on a summer day like today. And maybe he was just all hopped up on nostalgia, but Ian was feeling cheerful— there was a lightness to the blinding summer sunshine, radiating through him as it pooled on his skin, that made him feel weirdly exhilarated and giddy about teaching Mickey to swim in this grimy Southside pool, just because he could.

“I still can’t believe you never learned how to swim.” Ian said it over his shoulder as he strode through the gate, holding it open for Mickey.

Mickey just flipped him off, following behind him and setting down two towels and the 6-pack of beers he’d grabbed from the fridge as they’d shuffled out the door minutes before. Ian grinned. He knew the beers would be warm and syrupy in minutes—the air was muggy and humid, without any hint of a breeze for relief. Ian could already feel the sweat dripping down the back of his t-shirt; he peeled it off as he walked over the sunwarmed concrete towards the pool’s edge, crumpling the shirt and throwing it on top of the pile with the beers and the towels. Mickey was hesitant, not following Ian to the border of the water just yet.

“Seriously. I can’t count the number of times I was shoved into our bacteria-infested backyard pool when I was a kid. I’m pretty sure that Frank tried to drown me in there at one point.”

Mickey just shrugged noncommittally, his fingers slack around the bottom hem of his shirt and his eyes zeroing in on the pool of water. Ian thought Mickey would say something in reply— but the only sound in the air was the faint shouting of kids playing a basketball game the street over.

Holy shit. Ian had been so buoyant and excited about his nostalgia-fueled idea of going to the public pool on a summer day and teaching his husband to swim, dragging Mickey out of the house without a second thought, that he hadn’t realized it until now— Mickey was scared.

Ian swallowed down the grin that was threatening to overtake his face— one he knew that Mickey would immediately notice and hate, because he it drove him crazy when people gave him shit in vulnerable moments like this, when Mickey couldn’t do something. So instead Ian kept talking, hoping his chatter would loosen some of Mickey’s nerves.

“Didn’t you and your brothers ever go down to the other pool over on Trumbull?”

Mickey met Ian’s eyes then, raising an annoyed eyebrow. “Clearly not.”

And, okay. This was understandably bringing up some childhood shit. Ian tried to snap Mickey out of his head— he strode over to where Mickey was standing, a good six feet from the poolside, and snaked a hand onto the back of his neck, squeezing gently in what he hoped was a grounding and comforting touch that would drain the trepidation from Mickey’s defensive stance.

“One summer Debbie was so afraid of getting drowned at the public pool that she learned how to hold her breath for 4 minutes.” Ian grinned at the memory of Debbie dunking her head in a tub of water in the kitchen, making him and Lip time her. “Honestly, it was probably for the best you never went to the public pool. It was a shit show.”

Mickey scoffed, but the lightness was back in his eyes. “If I knew how to swim back in the day I probably woulda been the one doing the drowning.”

Ian barked out a laugh— and why did he immediately turn back into his 15-year-old self, with a god-awful crush on Mickey Milkovich, whenever Mick said shit like that? He pressed his lips into a smile, squeezing Mickey’s shoulder once more for good measure.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, king of the Southside. You ready to get in the water?” Ian’s hand trailed down from its grasp on Mickey’s shoulderblades, dropping to encircle Mickey’s wrist and guide him towards the water.

Mickey immediately recoiled, yanking his hand from Ian’s hold and taking a step back, squinting and holding up a hand to block the bright rays of sun out of his eyes now that he wasn’t standing in Ian’s shadow.

“Fuck d’you mean? I’m not just gonna fucking hop in there and drown. You gotta show me what to do.”

Ian grinned again, without being able to hold it back. He knew what Mickey was like when he was afraid of something— defensive and grumbly and avoidant to touch. He rolled his eyes. “Can’t really teach you to swim when we’re not in the water, Mick. C’mon.”

Ian walked over to sit on the edge, then slid his torso down into the pool. The water was lukewarm and tepid, barely providing any relief from the sticky air— but it felt nice. Ian let out a little breath of relief from the heat as he waded over to the shallow end. Mickey was still standing by the mound of the towels the ground, watching him warily. Ian raised his eyebrows.

“You coming?”

Rolling his eyes, Mickey aggravatedly pulled off his shirt, tossing it behind him— sunrays bounced off of Mickey’s pale skin, owing mostly to the fact that Mickey had barely left the house in the last few weeks because of their prolonged “honeymoon.” He slowly walked to the very edge of the pool and, in a movement that made Ian’s heart grow ten sizes, hesitantly dipped a toe into the water like a cat trying to paw at something. A corner of Mickey’s mouth flickered downwards almost imperceptibly, a worry line sprouting on his forehead.

“I don’t know, man.”

Ian breathed out a laugh. Leave it to Mickey Milkovich, shit-talking king of the Southside, to be afraid of the shallow end of a public pool. Ian reached out a hand in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, still smiling like a sappy motherfucker at his painfully endearing husband.

“C’mon Mick, just stand here with me first.” Ian was waist-deep in the shallow end, the water pressing against his upper thighs— he knew that at this height the water would be at Mickey’s waist, right where his swim trunks met his hipbones.

Mickey’s brows furrowed from where he was still perched on the concrete lip of the pool ledge, his two feet firmly rooted. “Explain what I gotta do first. To swim, or whatever.”

Ian blew out a breath, still grinning like an idiot. “It’s not that hard, Mick. You just gotta circle your arms and circle your legs. But you have to get in the water first.”

Ian treaded over, pushing through the water to where he could rest his upper arms on the edge of the pool beside where Mickey was standing, staring up at him with what he hoped was a convincingly pleading face. Mickey’s eyes were still fixated on the water, lapping at the pool’s edge from where Ian had rippled through it. And suddenly Ian had an idea.

With a teasing grin, he reached a wet hand out from the water and encircled it around Mickey’s ankle, splattering the concrete with drops of water. Mickey immediately jerked like an electric shock had jolted through his body.

“You gonna come in, or do I have to make you?”

Mickey tried to shake his ankle out of Ian’s grasp, but Ian had hold of him with an iron fist. Mickey leaned over and tried to swat at Ian’s arm without losing his balance on the pool’s edge.

“Cut that shit out right now, Gallagher.”

Ian just grinned, squeezing Mickey’s ankle like he was about to tug him in. “Come on, Mick.”

Mickey’s eyes widened and, just as Ian had imagined he would— he started to freak the fuck out.  

“Ian stop that shit right now, I swear to god I will fucking murder you if you—”

They were at the 6-foot marker in the pool, right where it was deep enough for Mickey to stand on the very tips of his toes; and with this knowledge, Ian tugged at Mickey’s calf— causing him to falter, his arms circling like a cartoon character before he lost his balance and crashed into the water on his side.

Ian immediately placed his hands on Mickey’s hips, standing him upright before his head even fell under the water— but Mickey was still sputtering and splashing, like the drama queen that he was. Once Mickey regained his composure and realized he was easily standing on the bottom of the pool, his head bobbing just above the water, he swiftly splashed healthy burst of water into Ian’s face, the chlorine stinging his eyes and nose.

“Fuck you, Gallagher!”

Ian coughed at the water that had shot up his nose, but immediately splashed Mickey back—and then, because there wasn’t any way this whole pool situation was going to go anyways, he and Mickey were immediately engaged in a life-and-death splash battle, circling each other in the middle section of the pool.

Ian was laughing so hard he felt a stitch in his side— and Mickey was finally grinning again, water dripping down his cheeks and clinging to his hair. After a few minutes Ian threw his hands in the air in surrender, the water cresting at his shoulders.

“Truce!”

Mickey splashed one more surge of water at Ian’s chest for good measure, grinning like a kid in a candy store— then he took a step closer to Ian, eyebrows raised.

“Truce.”

Ian beamed down at him, pressing a quick peck to the top of his damp hair. “Sorry for throwing you in the pool.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

“But in my defense, it had to happen eventually.”

Mickey shoved him squarely in the chest, taking a step back. “You ruined the fucking truce.”

Ian gave a smug smirk. “Do you wanna learn how to swim, or not?”

Mickey flicked another burst of water at him, just enough to cast a slew of droplets onto Ian’s cheeks. “Alright. Get coaching, Michael Phelps.”

Ian hadn’t really considered how he was actually going to teach Mickey to swim— but it couldn’t be that hard, right? He tried to think back to when Lip had taught him how to tread water, on an equally as sweltering day in the backyard pool, when the yard was packed with lawn chairs and drunk neighbors and smelled of ashy barbeque smoke.

“Okay. So you’ve gotta move your arms in circles, kinda, to stay floating. And your legs too.”

Ian swam over to the deeper end of the pool, just an arm’s length away from where he and Mickey’s feet could touch, and tried to demonstrate how to tread water. “I feel like the easiest way for you to learn is just by doing it. C’mere.”

Mickey looked at him reluctantly, brows furrowed again in an outward display of his bundled nerves. “No fucking way.”

Ian sighed in exasperation. “C’mon, Mick. I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let you drown, you can hold on to me the whole time.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow— but then hesitantly took a step towards Ian, the water reaching up to the bottom of his chin.

“Alright, good. Now step where you can’t reach and try to tread water like I did.”

Mickey stepped forward again, then started to circle his arms under the water— and he was doing great, for a second, before he seemed to get too in his head about the mechanics and started to grit his teeth.

“Little help here, Gallagher?”

Ian grinned and stepped forward. “Here, you can hang onto me.” He stood where Mickey could reach and grab onto his shoulders if he needed to— but Mickey seemed to regain his confidence, and was starting to steadily, if a little bit clumsily, tread water.

He kept it up for a while, until Ian could see that he was overexerting himself— waving his arms under the water with a little too much gusto, brows furrowed and his teeth digging into his lower lip in concentration.

“Mick, you’ve got it. Chill out for a sec.”

Ian reached an arm out, a branch for Mickey to grab on to— because he had been joking before, yes, but he really didn’t want Mickey to fucking drown— and when Mickey grasped onto it, Ian pulled Mickey towards him in the water, kicking backwards so they were suspended in the deeper end of the pool with Mickey clinging to Ian’s neck.

Mickey looked nervous as Ian veered them towards deeper waters, his eyes darting from side to side where they were floating, his fingers digging into the back of Ian’s neck— and Ian smirked at how freaked out he seemed, standing only a few feet from where they could both confidently stand on the tiled pool bottom. But Mickey didn’t resist, or try to propel himself back into the shallower waters— he let himself cling on to Ian, fingers interlaced behind the tops of Ian’s shoulders, as he kept them afloat. Ian laughed softly in a warm, wet gust across Mickey’s cheek. “You okay?”

He could feel the heat radiating off of Mickey’s body, squeezing up close against him— and Ian couldn’t help it, the wave of fondness that came over him as he looked down at where Mickey was pressed against his chest; trusting Ian to keep them above the water, trusting Ian enough to go along with his stupid plan to teach him to swim in a public pool on a random morning just because Ian wanted to. Ian couldn’t help but feel warmth in his stomach at this simple moment, at the two of them bobbing in the pool— at teaching his husband to swim, something Mickey’d never gotten to do as a kid but something that they had the rest of their lives to do together.

“Maybe we could teach Franny to swim next summer. If we have our own place.”

As he said it, Ian hoped that Mickey could see the flood of hopes that he had for them in his eyes— that he wanted a place with a pool, and a balcony, maybe a backyard, and maybe even a fucking garden—he’d always wanted to grow tomatoes. More than anything he wanted to build something sturdy, that could stand up to whatever ground would inevitably shift beneath them in the years to come— he’d been thinking about that a lot these days, especially with all of the pandemic shit that had pulled a rug out from under this entire neighborhood.

Mickey’s gaze flickered up from where it had been boring a panicky hole in Ian’s sternum, meeting Ian’s eyes at the phrase “our own place”— and Ian instantly knew that he got it, that he could see the dreams that Ian was building for the two of them right in front of their eyes. That after months and years of obstacles and chaos and other voices infiltrating their heads, now it was just them— now it was just Ian and Mickey, clinging to each other and drifting through the calm, chlorinated waters.

And maybe it was their proximity, or the intensity Ian knew he was pouring out in his gaze, but instantly the air between them shifted as Mickey looked up— starting to hang heavy like the press of the humidity in the air. Their faces were centimeters apart— and Mickey’s lips parted slightly, his eyes now cast downward at Ian’s lips. Ian could smell the sweet, warm beer on Mickey’s breath, mingling with his own; he looked at Mickey, whose arms were still wrapped around his neck, water dripping down his face from the hair that was fanning over his forehead—and Ian just had to pull him in, had to place a hand in the damp hair at the nape of Mickey’s neck and tug him closer, backing them against the tiled wall of the pool.

Ian could taste the faintest bitterness of chlorine on Mickey’s lips, from the water droplets lingering there, as he took Mickey’s bottom lip between his teeth. Mickey’s hands were still limply wrapped around Ian’s neck, keeping himself afloat— even though Ian had backed them against a wall in the shallow end of the pool again, and Mickey could probably touch his toes to the ground if he wanted to.

Ian raised his hand from under the water, wanting Mickey closer— he pressed a hand to the side of Mickey’s neck, slick with water, and slid a thumb over Mickey’s collarbone, pressing down with the pad of his fingers.

And Mickey gave a little involuntary noise from the back of his throat, sending a jolt down Ian’s spine.

Ian’s hands circling Mickey’s neck was definitely not a foreign concept while they were kissing—  it was something they did a lot these days, especially as their hours in bed had taken a turn from the crazed, I-missed-your-body-so-fucking-much sex they were having in the beginning days of being in prison together and those early months after Mickey had gotten released— but both in prison and during this fucking quarantine, they’d gotten a bit more experimental, and a bit more reckless—especially before Ian had gotten his warehouse job and they were still on their structureless “honeymoon,” spending entire days lounging in bed.

It was those days of lazy, languid kisses, after years and years of already knowing each other, that Ian realized that he was maybe a little bit obsessed with Mickey’s neck. He’d always joked about liking Mickey’s legs, and that was true too (if he was being honest, there wasn’t a part of Mickey’s body that didn’t make his blood run hotter)— but the first time Mickey had grabbed Ian’s hand and put it up to his neck while they were tangled together, pressing down until Ian’s hand covered most of his throat, Ian knew that they’d opened Pandora’s fucking box.

By this point, Ian’s hand was pretty much always on Mickey’s neck at some point while they were fucking or even just making out— if he was being totally honest, Ian’s hand was on Mickey’s neck more often than not in lots of contexts these days, once they realized how much they both loved it. But there was something about this current moment, of Mickey wantonly desiring a point of contact there, right now, while they were very randomly and decidedly making out while floating in a public pool on a lazy weekday afternoon, that made Ian’s blood run hotter than usual, and rush quicker through his veins.

Ian let the pads of his fingers creep up the velvet skin of the side of Mickey’s neck, pressing a little deeper, a prelude— he could feel the vibration of Mickey’s heartbeat starting to flutter from where Mickey was still pressed against his chest, still clinging to his neck in the water.

They’d already extensively discussed limits and everything, Mickey would tap his wrist twice if shit got too intense— but even with that in mind, Ian pulled apart from Mickey for a second, trailing ghosts of kisses up the side of his neck and nipping at the underside of Mickey’s jaw. Mickey stretched his neck back and gave a little involuntary sputter of a moan, bubbling out of his mouth before he could stop it. He fisted a hand in Ian’s hair, at the nape of his neck, and leaned forward again to press their lips together with more fervor.

Ian pulled back again, his upper back resting against the concrete lip of the pool. Mickey looked disheveled and wrecked, half-dry chlorine-crusted hair sticking up from where Ian’s other hand had been cradling the back of his head, his blue eyes gleaming and catching the over-bright summer light. Mickey was still clinging his arms around Ian’s neck, holding on— they were in a fucking pool, and Mickey still couldn’t really fucking swim yet— and even though they were standing in a place where Mickey’s toes could certainly touch the ground, the whole thing felt weirdly insular and intimate, like they had to cling to each other.

Mickey raised his eyebrows at Ian, like he was daring him to keep going.  

Ian leaned forward, breathing heavily into Mickey’s mouth, but not pressing their lips together yet—and he reached a hand up again, against Mickey’s tender skin. Mickey’s legs were wrapped around Ian’s hips now, locked like a vice to keep himself upright in the water— and he pressed a little harder, gently pulsing at the sides of Mickey’s neck, in tandem with their lips pressing together over and over again as the warm waters surrounded them—the whole thing, the whole combination, made Ian feel indescribably floaty and weird and warm and blissed out; his skin stinging like ice and fire at every point of contact, electricity  zapping his nerve endings wherever his fingertips met Mickey’s skin. Mickey fisted his hand harder at the back of Ian’s hair, nodding slightly—and they were definitely not going to fuck here, in the filth of a Southside public pool, but this insular closeness, the knowing what they both wanted to right now, was equally as thrilling and fulfilling to Ian in the moment. He could almost feel his own heart beating, reverberating as it pressed against Mickey’s chest, vibrating straight through Mickey and back to him as they clung to each other in the water.

Mickey’s body was thrumming, letting out little gasps of breath between kisses and touches—and Ian pulled back and dragged his lips down the side of Mickey’s neck, inhaling the sunwarmed skin. Fuck. He was never, never going to get enough of this.

**

Later, they’d dragged their water-heavy limbs back through the still summer streets to the Gallagher house, their skin pink and their bodies exhausted from soaking up the sun— and they’d collapsed into bed, feeling the dried chlorine coating their skin.

Ian reached a hand up, rubbing a thumb over Mickey’s cheek, their bodies pliant and fatigued— and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Thanks for letting me teach you how to swim.”

Mickey had smirked. “Yup, that was definitely the only highlight of today. Swimming.”

#a fluffy premise AND ian being obsessed with mickey’s neck?? #what more could u want #*blows kiss to elias and stella* for u #also yes i did have a word document on my computer titled ‘neck fic’ #what about it #ty for the prompt anon this was truly an experience to write #ily<3 #gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless imagine #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian and mickey #ian x mickey #ixm #gallavich fanfiction #cw choking

[whatshouldjustbeours]

Take Me Home

A/N: Hi! This is not a mirage! This is my second fic on a very short time. I guess all the promos and spoilers inspired me. Also... ONLY NINE DAYS UNTIL OUR SHOW IS BACK! FINALLY! I hope you guys like this one! A special thanks to my beta reader and Blindspot partner Thaís. I love you!

This is also on ff.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12693509/1/

Title from Jess Glynne's song Take Me Home.

Summary: Jane and Kurt first day back to work after getting together. Patterson has an open and honesty conversation with Weller about Jane's heart and Kurt makes a proposition to Jane that will change their lives. Jeller all the way.

Set some days after season 2 finale.

Every minute gets easier The more you talk to me You rationalize my darkest thoughts Yeah you, set them free

Came to you with a broken faith Gave me more than a hand to hold Caught before I hit the ground Tell me I'm safe, you've got me now

Would you take the wheel If I lose control? If I'm lying here Will you take me home?

Take Me Home

Jane felt equally nervous and excited as she rode the FBI elevator for the first time since telling Kurt where she wanted to be and that she loved him. In fact, after her confession in his hallway, they hadn’t spent one second apart.

They just had four much earned days off. Four heavenly days when their phones didn’t ring, nor the world was on the verge of ending. Four days to themselves, and their love, and their lovemaking. She sighed as remembered all those moments and how she wished they hadn’t ended so quickly.

Now they were back and she had no idea how their work dynamic would change now that they were together, or where she was supposed to go after work today – her safe house or back to his apartment? - or how she was supposed to spend eight hours restraining herself from touching him when that’s all she’d done the last few days.

“Jane? Are you okay?”

It was his voice that brought her back, his hand quickly grabbing hers, squeezing it and letting it go.

She looked up at him, instantly feeling better, her lips curving up into a small smile.

“I’m fine. I just…” – Wished we had more time that was just us.

“I know.”

He smiled at her, wanting nothing more than to press the button that would take them back to the parking lot so they could get out of there and go back to being just them.

“We’ll have more time later, I promise.” – He winked as she blushed.

“I’ll hold you to that.” – Jane said quietly as the doors opened and they stepped out of the elevator.

Even if everybody tried to be discreet, the pair felt all eyes on them. Jane was pretty sure her face was all red and with a quick sideways glance at Weller, their eyes locked for a second and she almost laughed when she saw him shaking his head. He knew it was his fault. It was him who declared himself to her with the comms still open.

She stopped at her desk and watched as he went on to his office. On his way there, he looked over his shoulder once at her, his eyes full of promises and they had a whole silent conversation. Then he turned back and reached his door.

She was almost sitting on her chair when Patterson’s voice reached her.

“Jane!” – The blonde analyst was suddenly in front of her, pulling her into a hug.

“Hi, Patterson.” – Jane hugged her back tight. She would always appreciate everything the other woman had done for her.

“I’m really glad we are all back.” – Patterson stepped back and sat on the edge of Jane’s desk. She looked over at Weller’s office, seeing him already behind his desk, some papers in front of him and then back at Jane. – “So… how were your days off?”

Jane followed Patterson’s previous line of sight and couldn’t contain the smile from appearing on her face. Kurt was already concentrating hard on some document, the whole world ceasing to exist as he focused on his job. She was lost in him until her friend cleared her throat.

“That good, huh?”

“Yeah. It was really good.”

Assuming a more serious expression, Patterson hopped off Jane’s desk and before departing, she put a hand on the other woman’s arm.

“You two deserve all the happiness you can find and I’m really, really glad you found it together.”

Jane’s eyes filled with tears and she nodded, not trusting her voice.

“I’ll see you later, Jane.”

The blonde had barely taken three steps away towards her lab when Jane’s voice stopped her.

“Hey, Patterson!” – Their eyes met and held. – “Thank you for…” – Jane shrugged, not really finding the exact words to convey what the other’s actions meant to her. – “For everything.”

“That’s what friends are for, Jane.”

Jane nodded, feeling once again blessed for finding these people and calling them not only friends, but family.

It’s been two hours since they’d gotten there and his neck was already killing him. It was so much reports to read and to write it was times like these he remembered why he never wanted a desk job in the first place.

Lifting his head and massaging his nape, his eyes were inevitable drawn to her. She was in her chair and Zapata was beside her, both of them looking at something in Jane’s computer screen. One second later, they were bursting into laughter and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Jane so happy.

There was no one who deserved to laugh more than she did.

He was so distracted he didn’t notice Patterson entering his office and stopping in front of his desk.

“I was almost afraid you wouldn’t listen to me.”

His eyes snapped to her, not expecting anyone to catch him drooling over Jane.

“What?”

“I told you that if you had something to say to her, you should say it. Part of me was terrified you’d let her go without her knowing how you felt.”

“I almost did.”

“You are an idiot, Weller.” – Patterson sighed and dropped on one of the chairs.

“I can still fire you, you know?” – Kurt grumbled but there was no heat in his voice. They both knew he would never do it.

“Jane is the best thing that ever happened to you.” – He was struck speechless by her honesty. – “And I can’t believe you almost let her go because you are too stubborn to say anything.”

“I was afraid she didn’t feel the same way.”

“Bullshit, Weller.” – His eyes widened and his mouth opened at her choice of words. – “Jane wears her heart on her eyes. She always has. You knew exactly how she felt. You just weren’t sure she’d choose to stay here despite of it.”

She didn’t need to list every reason Jane had to leave, including the ones he was responsible for.

His face fell as the things he did to Jane passed through his mind. He’d treated her horribly and he doubted he would ever forgive himself.

“I’m sorry.” – Patterson’s voice snapped him out of his dark thoughts. – “I didn’t mean to,”

“It’s fine. And you are right.” – He admitted, his eyes drifting to Jane and back to his friend. – “I was terrified she would pack her things and leave. I had absolutely no idea if anything I said would make a difference.”

“But it did.” – Patterson smiled, scooting her chair closer to his desk. – “She doesn’t hold anything over you. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” – He opened a little smile, eyes focusing once again on Jane. This time, as she pretended to watch Zapata return to her workstation, she stole a glance at his office. Their eyes connected for a brief second, a tiny smile flickering on her face.  – “She is just…” – He trailed off, not sure how to describe the woman who was everything to him without sounding too sappy.

As Patterson watched him watching Jane, she couldn’t be happier for him. They’d known each other for many years now and she had never seen him look at another woman – or any other person, for that matter - the way he looked at Jane. Nor she’d ever seen him look so happy. There was also a light in his eyes that’s never been there before.

“Jane is the strongest person I know but,” – She stopped, waiting for Weller to concentrate on her. Her pause had him raising his eyebrow and looking at her. – “She also has the softest of hearts. Don’t you dare breaking it, Weller because if you do, I swear to God I’m going to make your life a living Hell.”

He tried hard to look stern after her threat but he was pretty sure his face was showing his gratitude for the way she was looking out for Jane. God knew Patterson had been the only one in her corner when she returned to the FBI and he was glad she was there again now.

“I won’t.” – He’d die before he intentionally broke her heart again.

Of course there would be bumps along the way but they’d navigate it together.

They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. When Patterson was satisfied her warning had been received, she got up, ready to go back to her lab.

“You only came here to threaten me?” – He joked, also getting up. It was almost lunch time and he couldn’t wait to have a moment alone with Jane.

Patterson stopped mid way to the door and she took some steps back in his direction.

“Yes. Jane’s been through hell in the short time I know her. And I can only imagine what she’d been through before, in her other life. The list of heartbreaking things she carries with her is horribly long and I really don’t want you to be another bullet point there. Make this right, Weller.” – One of her hands reached out and touched his arm, lightly squeezing it. – “I know you aren’t too good at communicating but you have this amazing woman that for some reason is crazy about you. She loves you and the only reason she decided to stay is because of you. So please, please, don’t hold back and just talk to her, say things to her. Speak from your heart. God knows I regret all the things I never said because I thought I had time.”

She didn’t need to tell him who she was talking about. He knew. And not telling David she loved him and that she wanted to spend their lives together would always be her biggest regret.

Having said everything she wanted, Patterson patted his arm and got out of his office, leaving a speechless Kurt Weller behind. Message delivered, she guessed.

Kurt ended up intercepted on his way to Jane’s desk. Hirst arrived just as he was going to ask Jane to have lunch with him and the Director requested a meeting in his office. It lasted four hours, going well into the afternoon and the whole time Patterson’s words were on his mind.

He was bad at communicating. One year with him and Allie got tired of his closed off attitude. He didn’t think he ever told her he loved her. But with Jane… everything was different since the beginning. She had found a way to tear down his walls from day one. And he would never forget the way he first told her he loved her, for literally everyone to hear.

All of this only told him it would be different this time. It had to be because losing Jane was not an option. Never would be.

He’d make sure of that.

Jane looked at the clock for the thousandth time. It was almost 7 p.m. and Kurt was still inside his office. They barely talked during the day since he was with Hirst and some other important people from the Bureau most of the time.

She was wondering if she should go talk to him and ask when he intended to leave or if she should leave alone and go straight to her safe house. Would he assume that if she waited for him it meant she wanted to go back to his apartment? Because even if she did, she definitely didn’t want to pressure him or make him do anything he wasn’t comfortable with.

She was still debating this inside her head when she caught a movement from the corner of her eye. Kurt was standing up and gathering his things. Was he leaving? Would he offer her a ride? Would they have dinner together? She really hoped so.

She remained on her chair, pretending to read something on her computer. “Hey.” – He stopped by her side and she lifted her head, a smile welcoming him. – “Are you ready to leave?”

“Yeah.” She shut off her computer and took her phone, ready to leave this place for the day and hopefully enjoy the rest of the night by his side.

She led the way to the elevator and they silently waited for it to arrive. Glancing quickly at him, she noticed he seemed nervous. Was he asking himself the same things she was? Did Hirst say something that was making him change his mind about them? She didn’t exactly help his career with her past as Remi.

“Jane?” She was so lost in her own mind she didn’t see that the elevator was on their floor. They both stepped inside and Kurt pressed the button to the parking lot.

“Are you hungry?” – He asked quietly, noticing her mood had shifted while they were waiting for the elevator. Had he already screwed this up?

“Yes.” – She was starving while she was waiting for him but now, she wasn’t as much.

Her answer didn’t sound so convincing to him but he didn’t care. Her days of skipping meals and not taking care of herself were done.

“What do you say we order some take out on the way to my apartment?”

She looked at him, brightening up at the prospect of actually spending the night with him. Maybe he was not regretting all of this after all. She smiled and nodded, giving him her answer.

They walked to the car side by side, his hand itching to take hers and lace their fingers together. Their eyes met and she threw him a lopsided shy smile, telling him she was thinking of the same thing.

She was making her way around the SUV to the passenger side when she felt his hand on her arm, turning her around and pushing her against the car. His hands were on her hair and his mouth was on hers before she could even fully process that Kurt I Don’t Show My Emotions Weller was kissing her senseless in the parking lot of the FBI.

She returned his kiss, her tongue invading his mouth to find and battle his. He took another step forward, his whole body pressing against hers and making her moan. It was the sound that made him stop and he took a hasty step back, letting go of her as fast as he had grabbed her.

She laughed, loving how the always composed Weller looked so disoriented.

“Are you okay?” – She asked, not moving, afraid her legs would give out after the way he had kissed her.

“God, Jane.” – He looked around, making sure no one had caught them. – “You drive me crazy.”

She only laughed harder.

“So this is my fault now?” – She asked in a teasing voice.

“Absolutely.” – He growled and started to go back to his side of the car. – “Get in before I do something like that again and someone sees us.”

She did, not wanting to waste any more time on that building. She wanted more of his kisses, more of his touch and couldn’t wait to get to his apartment. 

The feeling of arriving at Kurt’s apartment after a long day of work instead of her empty safe house was incredible. It hit her in that moment how her life would be different from now on.

She didn’t have to worry about Sandstorm lurking in the shadows, ready to attack and kill her. She didn’t have to leave work and go home alone anymore. She didn’t have to find an excuse to spend time with Kurt after work during the week. And on the weekends, she’d have him all to herself and they could do amazing things together, like maybe visit places she always wanted to go but didn’t have the time or the desire to do it alone.

She didn’t know if she deserved this life she was getting but she vowed to herself to make the most of it.

“Why are you smiling?” – He was in front of her in the middle of the living room where she had stopped without even noticing.

She took the step needed to be right into his personal space, her arms going around his neck. His hands automatically drifted to her hips, holding her close.

“Because I’m happy.” – She said simply, letting her eyes show him the truth of her words.

Kurt felt his heart bursting with joy. Her smile had always been a rare thing to see but since they’ve stopped Sandstorm and spent all of their time together days ago, he’d seen more and more of it.

“You deserve all the happiness in the world, Jane.” – He whispered to her, Patterson’s words immediately coming to mind.

Jane’s been through hell in the short time I know her. And I can only imagine what she’d been through before, in her other life. The list of heartbreaking things she carries with her is horribly long.

“We both do.” – She echoed his words from the plane back to him.

“I’m happy too, you know?” – She titled her head to the side, sensing he was going to say more. One of his hands came up and caressed her on the cheek. Speak from your heart. – “And that’s all because of you.”

“Yeah?” – She was looking at him with so much happiness in her eyes that he felt like his heart was going to explode.

Say things to her.

“I love you so much, Jane.” – The words came effortlessly as if his heart had been waiting his whole life for her and now it could finally speak freely.

“I love you too, Kurt. Very, very much.”

They leaned forward at the same time, meeting haflway in a tender and sweet kiss. Time slowed down as the two of them enjoyed the moment together without fear of getting caught or interrupted.

“I thought you were hungry.” – Kurt muttered against her mouth, feeling her hands unbuttoning his shirt.

“I am.” – She said suggestively, quickly working on his buttons.

In a sudden move, he took her in his arms, one arm behind her knees, another behind her back and carried her to his bedroom.

They had dinner only after a long time.

After brushing his teeth, he thought he was going to find her curled up in her side of the bed but as he came out of the bathroom, she was nowhere to be seen.

He went to the living room in search of her and finally found her on the balcony, her back to him. He silently slid the door open and stopped directly behind her, his arms encasing her and his hands resting on the protective rail in front of them.

“Hey. Is everything ok?”

“Everything is perfect, Kurt.” – She snuggled closer to him. – “I was just appreciating the view. You can’t ever get tired of it, can you? It’s beautiful.”

She’d loved his balcony ever since she stepped on it for the first time on their second day together.

“It is.” – One of his hands left the rail and ended up on her stomach. – “I usually come here to think. And when I do that, it’s mostly about you.”

She chuckled, imagining him in this place, thinking of her with the whole NYC in front of him.

“Did you ever think one day we’d be together in this place?”- She turned around, her arms coming up to circle his neck. – “Like this?”

“I dreamed about it. About having you here in my arms and kissing you right on this spot.”

“You did?”

“Thousands of times.”

She smiled shyly, averting her eyes from his intense stare. She shifted, once again facing their wonderful view.

“This is a nice change from the lack of view of my safe house.”- It was a simple statement and he knew she didn’t mean anything by it but it broke his heart that she would never see her safe house as a home and would always refer to it as what it was: just a safe house.

There was one thing he could do about that…

Make this right, Weller.

“Speaking of your safe house,” – He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him again. He had to see her when he uttered his next words. – “What do you say we return it to the FBI and you can come and live here? You’d have this view you love so much whenever you want.”

Her eyes widened as he spoke, her mouth opening but not a sound coming out.

“What?” – She ultimately asked. Surely she’d heard him wrong. Mr. Choosy couldn’t be proposing what she thought he was.

“Move in with me, Jane.”

He waited anxiously as she processed his request. What is it too soon? Too much? Was she not ready for this next step?

“Yes.” – She interrupted his train of thought, her voice sure and her eyes sparkling. – “I’d love to live with you, Kurt.” – Her voice broke in the end, tears welling up in her eyes. She couldn’t believe what was happening. She couldn’t even phantom the idea of finally having a place to call home.

A place with Kurt Weller, the love of her life.

He hugged her tight, also not quite believing what was going on. Now he’d get to wake up with her in his arms every day. He’d be able to cook for her all of their meals. And they’d come and go to work together.

Together.

“Thank you.” – She whispered, kissing him on his cheek.

He shook his head, his hands framing her face.

“Thank you, Jane.”

They made love for the second time that night on the floor of the balcony she loved so much and that had just changed their entire lives.

Later, as he held her in his arms in their bed, he couldn’t help but imagine Patterson’s reaction to this news. He was going to tell her it would be his mission to give Jane a list of wonderful and happy memories to make her forget all of her heart breaks.

Today had just been another bullet point on this new list.

And he couldn’t wait to keep adding more.

#jeller #blindspot fanfic #blindspot #writing:mine #romance