The Walls are Thin and the Ghosts are Many
Title: The Walls are Thin and the Ghosts are Many
Pairing: Reid/JJ
Prompt: stay in bed via cm_het_drabble
Rating: R
Warnings: sex, implied infidelity, spoilers for Exit Wounds
He knows her by her knock. JJ has a light touch, raps four times - one more than the average person - and the last one is the loudest and has a shorter echo, her hand resting against the door when she finishes.
When he opens it, she's slid it across to rest against the frame, and she's smiling. "Room for one more?" she asks, stepping through before he can answer.
Reid arches one eyebrow at her. "There's only one bed."
JJ laughs a little and flips the bolt. It stutters into place with a metallic rattle. "Well, look at you. Who taught you how to flirt?"
He shrugs and reaches over JJ's shoulder to slide the chain into place. "Keeping the brain engaged by learning new skills decreases the likelihood of various forms of dementia."
"So I've heard. I take it that," she nods towards the lock, "means you're up for company?"
"Of course. Always, if it's you." He's looking at her the way he always looks at her just before they start to undress: close, scrutinizing, searching. He always wants to make sure. If she didn't know better - and she can pretend she does - she would think he was looking for a reason to tell her no.
She kisses him before the look can creep under her skin and add an uncomfortable itch to the ache, pushes him backwards until his knees connect with the bed, climbs into his lap. Usually, she is gentler with him than this. She minds his knee with an almost maternal fretting. Maybe it's the cold - in Alaska, it's hard to escape the chill, no matter where you try to hide from it. Maybe it's something else.
He kisses back for a minute, his hands on her like he doesn't already know every dip and sway and dangerous curve, and when he reaches between her shoulder blades to draw her closer still, he smiles into her mouth and turns aside. "You're not wearing a bra."
"Are you complaining?"
Reid shakes his head as she bends for his neck and takes a bite. It's superficial, just a shadow of what she wants. She's careful. Intensely so. She holds back so much that it makes him wonder sometimes what the point of it all is. The act itself is irrational, need-driven, flagrantly rebellious. But she is so restrained within its boundaries that it can't possibly satisfy her. Unless it's really him that she wants and not the rush.
But why set himself up for disappointment?
"What did you tell Emily?" he murmurs as she reaches for his tie.
Her fingers are quick and confident as she pulls at the knot. "Nothing," she says, letting it drop onto the bed behind him. "She was asleep as soon as she sat down. She didn't even get undressed."
"I wish I could do that," he says, leaning sideways to give her access to his buttons. She ticks them apart like she's done it a thousand times.
"Me, too. She must have a clear conscience, hm?" JJ slides his shirt off his shoulders and kisses him, oddly, on the cheek. The gesture is almost chaste. Almost sad.
"Actually, it's probably..."
"Shhhhh."
He shushes. He has to. She covers his mouth with her own and stops his breath with a kiss that has the velocity of a bullet.
__________
They're pressed against the wall - the one to the outside, not one that divides rooms; sounds carry here - with JJ's hand scrabbling at the scratched-and-dug windowsill for balance, her legs searching for purchase at the small of his back, when they hear it.
He's inside of her, but they haven't found rhythm yet; they're just shrugging against one another in a chaos of sensation, silent in their focus, and the scream thrusts itself between them like a knife.
JJ's legs drop to the floor, and Reid leans in to pin her in place, wincing at the pressure on his knee. Their mouths stop moving, open against one another. JJ licks her lips to speak and catches his on the way. "That's Garcia," she hisses. "Shit, Spence, that's Garcia. Oh, my God."
"I know," he says.
Their bodies come apart with the resistance of a thin sheen of sweat, and they both scramble for their clothes. JJ is quicker - she has fewer layers, fewer fasteners - and heads for the door, but Reid grabs at her arm. "You stay." His other hand is fumbling with his buttons, getting them all wrong in his haste.
"What? No! I have to go right now. She's..."
"You stay," he insists again. "You don't have your weapon. You're not going out there without it."
"I can't..."
"Sit down on this bed and stay. Please." His fingers are hard on her now; harder than he ever touches her when they're naked and needy and on the edge of losing control. "Please, JJ. Stay until you hear Emily hit the stairs, then if you have to, go get your gun. You can't go out there if you can't defend yourself. I have to go, I... damnit..." The adrenaline is making his hands shake, making his buttons impossible.
Somewhere outside, Garcia screams again. At least she's still alive.
JJ takes a breath and bites her lip, then turns to help him, her fingers more capable. He looks at her with relief and gropes for his jacket. "Please?"
"Fine. Fine. Okay. Be careful."
"Right. Yes. Stay put. You can't... and don't... don't let anybody see you leave this room." His stomach tightens further even as he says it, balls into a fist like it wants to punch right through, but he is protecting her in the only ways he knows how.
"I won't," she says quietly.
"Sit down," he says, grabbing his weapon from the nightstand and reaching for the doorknob. "Sit down. Please."
He looks back over his shoulder as he cracks it open.
JJ sits, and a tense relief washes over his face as he bolts into the hallway and it slams shut behind him.
Alone, she closes her eyes, her pulse beating in her throat, and listens to him take the stairs three at a time. Four thuds to the bottom. The sound fades to an echo in the hollow chambers of her heart, where the walls are thin and the ghosts are many.
Pairing: Reid/JJ
Prompt: stay in bed via cm_het_drabble
Rating: R
Warnings: sex, implied infidelity, spoilers for Exit Wounds
He knows her by her knock. JJ has a light touch, raps four times - one more than the average person - and the last one is the loudest and has a shorter echo, her hand resting against the door when she finishes.
When he opens it, she's slid it across to rest against the frame, and she's smiling. "Room for one more?" she asks, stepping through before he can answer.
Reid arches one eyebrow at her. "There's only one bed."
JJ laughs a little and flips the bolt. It stutters into place with a metallic rattle. "Well, look at you. Who taught you how to flirt?"
He shrugs and reaches over JJ's shoulder to slide the chain into place. "Keeping the brain engaged by learning new skills decreases the likelihood of various forms of dementia."
"So I've heard. I take it that," she nods towards the lock, "means you're up for company?"
"Of course. Always, if it's you." He's looking at her the way he always looks at her just before they start to undress: close, scrutinizing, searching. He always wants to make sure. If she didn't know better - and she can pretend she does - she would think he was looking for a reason to tell her no.
She kisses him before the look can creep under her skin and add an uncomfortable itch to the ache, pushes him backwards until his knees connect with the bed, climbs into his lap. Usually, she is gentler with him than this. She minds his knee with an almost maternal fretting. Maybe it's the cold - in Alaska, it's hard to escape the chill, no matter where you try to hide from it. Maybe it's something else.
He kisses back for a minute, his hands on her like he doesn't already know every dip and sway and dangerous curve, and when he reaches between her shoulder blades to draw her closer still, he smiles into her mouth and turns aside. "You're not wearing a bra."
"Are you complaining?"
Reid shakes his head as she bends for his neck and takes a bite. It's superficial, just a shadow of what she wants. She's careful. Intensely so. She holds back so much that it makes him wonder sometimes what the point of it all is. The act itself is irrational, need-driven, flagrantly rebellious. But she is so restrained within its boundaries that it can't possibly satisfy her. Unless it's really him that she wants and not the rush.
But why set himself up for disappointment?
"What did you tell Emily?" he murmurs as she reaches for his tie.
Her fingers are quick and confident as she pulls at the knot. "Nothing," she says, letting it drop onto the bed behind him. "She was asleep as soon as she sat down. She didn't even get undressed."
"I wish I could do that," he says, leaning sideways to give her access to his buttons. She ticks them apart like she's done it a thousand times.
"Me, too. She must have a clear conscience, hm?" JJ slides his shirt off his shoulders and kisses him, oddly, on the cheek. The gesture is almost chaste. Almost sad.
"Actually, it's probably..."
"Shhhhh."
He shushes. He has to. She covers his mouth with her own and stops his breath with a kiss that has the velocity of a bullet.
__________
They're pressed against the wall - the one to the outside, not one that divides rooms; sounds carry here - with JJ's hand scrabbling at the scratched-and-dug windowsill for balance, her legs searching for purchase at the small of his back, when they hear it.
He's inside of her, but they haven't found rhythm yet; they're just shrugging against one another in a chaos of sensation, silent in their focus, and the scream thrusts itself between them like a knife.
JJ's legs drop to the floor, and Reid leans in to pin her in place, wincing at the pressure on his knee. Their mouths stop moving, open against one another. JJ licks her lips to speak and catches his on the way. "That's Garcia," she hisses. "Shit, Spence, that's Garcia. Oh, my God."
"I know," he says.
Their bodies come apart with the resistance of a thin sheen of sweat, and they both scramble for their clothes. JJ is quicker - she has fewer layers, fewer fasteners - and heads for the door, but Reid grabs at her arm. "You stay." His other hand is fumbling with his buttons, getting them all wrong in his haste.
"What? No! I have to go right now. She's..."
"You stay," he insists again. "You don't have your weapon. You're not going out there without it."
"I can't..."
"Sit down on this bed and stay. Please." His fingers are hard on her now; harder than he ever touches her when they're naked and needy and on the edge of losing control. "Please, JJ. Stay until you hear Emily hit the stairs, then if you have to, go get your gun. You can't go out there if you can't defend yourself. I have to go, I... damnit..." The adrenaline is making his hands shake, making his buttons impossible.
Somewhere outside, Garcia screams again. At least she's still alive.
JJ takes a breath and bites her lip, then turns to help him, her fingers more capable. He looks at her with relief and gropes for his jacket. "Please?"
"Fine. Fine. Okay. Be careful."
"Right. Yes. Stay put. You can't... and don't... don't let anybody see you leave this room." His stomach tightens further even as he says it, balls into a fist like it wants to punch right through, but he is protecting her in the only ways he knows how.
"I won't," she says quietly.
"Sit down," he says, grabbing his weapon from the nightstand and reaching for the doorknob. "Sit down. Please."
He looks back over his shoulder as he cracks it open.
JJ sits, and a tense relief washes over his face as he bolts into the hallway and it slams shut behind him.
Alone, she closes her eyes, her pulse beating in her throat, and listens to him take the stairs three at a time. Four thuds to the bottom. The sound fades to an echo in the hollow chambers of her heart, where the walls are thin and the ghosts are many.