Chapter 18
“Eric.”
The name rolled effortlessly off her tongue, an instinctual plea for more, grounding her in an unexpected way but also leaving her weightless as she ran her fingers through his curls, pushing him closer against her.
At work, at crime scenes, even in the super market, he was always Turner to her. He was Turner when he teased her to the point of blushing.
He was Turner when he came up with a crazy plan to catch a kilier.
He was most certainly Turner when there was a complaint on her desk from a disgruntled suspect who had been cleared. However, there in her bedroom, as she felt his warm, soft lips and curious tongue on her skin, he was always just Eric.
Without his work, without mischievous looks, and without pretense, he was just the man who knew how to touch, kiss, and tease her into submission.
Thre was only room for sensation, seduction, the sliding of skin, and shivers as she grabbed the hand drawing patterns into her thigh, if only to brace herself against the pressure building inside, anticipation growing in wait for that elusive feeling, that sweetness only he could give her.
...and with a flick of his tongue, she unravelled, involuntary spasms overtook her as his name spilled unconsciously from her lips. Her orgasm consumed her and enthralled the man who kissed the curve of her hip, before sliding up beside her. The heat of his breath on her neck made her shiver, the intensity of his blue stare made her toes curl.
They laid in silence for a moment, secret smiles exchanged without words, as Watson reached out to run her thumb against his lip, unable to resist the urge to trace his jaw line as Turner watched her intently.
She was barely touching him, but it was enough to captivate them both, so that when a foreign sound broke the quietude, they both had to take a moment to realize where it was coming from. The recognition presumably reached Watson first, because the brunette shot up from the bed, eyes wide.
"Shit, you're not even dressed," she exclaimed, a flash of black lace disappearing beneath her dress as she ran to her vanity to run a brush through her hair.
Turner watched her with amusement from his relaxed position on the bed, and Watson turned around, looking at him annoyed, "what are you smiling at? That was the door bell."
"I know," he moved off the bed and reached calmly for his shirt, buttoning it up slowly much to Watson's irritation, "you didn't seem too concerned with that just a few minutes ago," he added cheekily, and Watson had the biggest urge to throw her brush at him.
She should be downstairs, opening the door for her guests, but instead she was here watching him get dressed. Perhaps her body hadn't really caught up with her mind. Either way, the involuntary blush coating her cheeks wasn't abating and Turner's smug facial expression was still very much frustrating.
"Oh bite me," she rolled her eyes, obviously not expecting that a moment later, Turner wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her slightly off the ground as he gently nipped at her neck, "be careful what you ask for, woman." He cautioned her and then he was gone, light steps down the stairs before Watson even had a moment to collect herself.
Murmuring dark things about the man playing co-host, Watson took one look in the mirror and made her way down the stairs, only to be greeted by her team standing in her living room, with a pretty, dark haired woman tucked to Ng's side.
"Watson," Turner exclaimed, "so good of you to join us finally."
"Oh, so good of you to get the door, " Watson replied through somewhat gritted teeth, annoyance dissipating as Turner shot her a mischievous but honest smile, a secret look exchanged between them as she approached.
"Hi everyone," she smiles.
"Your home is lovely."
"Thank you, Grace." Watson said, accepting the homemade apple pie in Cranston's hands.
The young woman blushed and nodded, a vibrant smile on her face as she slipped off her coat and Turner quickly took it off her hands.
"Oh, here," Ng extended the bottle of wine he and his date brought, which caused Watson's gaze to fall on the petite woman standing somewhat uncomfortably by the his side.
"Thanks," Watson nodded, ready to introduce herself when Turner said, "Oh Natalie, this is April."
"It's so nice to meet you, April," Watson extended her hand.
"Likewise." April responded, taking her hand.
"Something smells great, Natalie." Barnes announced, an all too familiar look of excitement on his face at the prospect of food.
"Well thank you. I suppose we shouldn't keep the turkey waiting," Watson smiled. "Turner, you're in charge of the coats," she added, without looking at him.
Turner's smile faltered just slightly but he accepted the task, taking Barnes's, April's, and Ng's jackets and heading back up stairs to the guest bedroom, as Watson escorted the rest of the team to the table.
He hadn't had a moment to reflect on their earlier conversation and found himself not wanting to, the dread and guilt that gripped him as he saw the photo of his family was still fresh on his mind.
However, when he returned to the staircase and stopped for a moment to watch Watson smile genuinely at something April said, there was a feeling of hope that fluttered inside him, something that has been skirting on the edges of his broken world for a while now.
Reminding him yet again that perhaps this year, he actually had something to be thankful for.
It was a seemingly innocent inquiry.
"So Natalie, how long have you and Eric been together?"
Posed between the clinking of forks and the moving of dishes, the question should have been just one in the exchanges between new acquaintances and old colleagues over a holiday meal; yet, the reaction it caused left no one with the impression that this was just a harmless query to be forgotten.
Particularly, because of the way Watson's cheeks seemed to turn into a shade of red similar to the color of the wine currently blocking the air in her windpipe.
Turner reacted instantly by patting her back with unabashed concern, perhaps only slightly tinged with amusement. It was even more of an indication that April's question, however simple, might not have such a clear-cut answer.
April shot Ng a panicked look, eyes surveying the rest of the stunned officers as even her date seemed to be surprised by her question and the subsequent reaction from their usually composed boss.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to pry, I just thought -..."
The dark haired woman rambled uncomfortably, leaning closer to Watson as the recovering brunette shook her head.
"It's quite alright." Turner interrupted, handing Watson a glass of water, which she tokk gladly, "I'm sure she'll be fine."
He shot the Asian woman a heart-melting smile, which did the trick in relaxing her, at least enough that she reclined back, allowing Ng to wrap his arm around her shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze.
"Are you alright?" Cranston eventually spoke, her voice incredibly gentle, almost fearful, as she shot Barnes a nervous side glance when his hand made it underneath the table to her knee, suddenly aware of their proximity.
"Yeah, I can usually get through a dinner without choking to death”, she said, giving April a warm smile.
She indeed appeared fine, very relieved, but she didn’t dare look at the man sitting to her right, the one whose touch on her arm seems to be burning her skin as she tries to focus her attention on anything but him.
Eventually the tension dissipated on its own when Barnes loudly announced that he was ready for more turkey, picking up the drumstick on his plate with the fervor of a five year old. Unable to resist the adorable look of satisfaction on the tall officer’s face as he chewed, the women dissolved into giggles while Turner and Ng exchanged amused looks across the table.
However, even as the conversation resumed and the atmosphere filled up with more wine and laughter, two observations don't escape any of the six people: one being that Turner's hand didn’t move from Watson's arm for the rest of the dinner and the other that April's apparently innocent question went unanswered.
The night was cool but not overly so. There was a light breeze that left goosebumps on her skin, but Watson didn’t mind. Her hand instinctively traveled to the cross that never left her neck.
Fingering the pendant, Watson tried not to think cynically about her mother's faith. After all, it shaped her to be the strong and brilliant woman Watson knew for so long, and perhaps she couldn't blame her mother's untimely passing on anyone other than the man who had too much to drink.
Still, after all these years, a part of her couldn't justify a belief in God, not only because of her mother, but also because of her job. The things she saw day to day, the very disturbed part of human nature, where God seems to play no role, didn’t allow her to have a strong allegiance to faith.
Shutting her eyes against the cold wind, Watson tried not to think about her mother, but found herself more terrified of reflecting on this evening. Her guests were still inside, but she doubted that even in a group so small, they would notice her absence, since Turner had decided to entertain Ng's girlfriend with tricks that April hadn't seen before. Perhaps the only reason Cranston and Ng stuck around to watch was Turner's decision to use Barnes as his assistant.
The thought of Turner putting Barnes in awkward situations brought a smile to her face, especially since she knew how hard the specialist tried to impress Grace. Watson might not be as perceptive as Turner, but she could tell there was something going on between them.
If before this evening, she was in a position to mention something to either of them, after her chocking incident and Turner's insistence on shadowing her every move thereafter, it was pretty safe to say the only people who've been ousted were her and Turner. She was not really sure how to react to that.
Of course, the question caught her off guard, which precipitated the embarrassing event that followed; however, now that she had time to think about it, she wondered what she would have answered if she'd been able to keep her surprise under control. Much like the Harper incident, she was in no way prepared for being asked this, and frankly is a bit surprised her colleagues hadn't figured it out yet.
Yet, where with Sam she was petrified when he found out, because it meant he had another reason to question her competency, with Ng, Barnes, and Cranston, Watson didn’t feel the same weight pressing on her shoulders.
There was no alarm or panic inside her and she was inclined to believe that means she trusted her team and subconsciously considerd them family. She never really knew what they did outside the PPB walls, except for Cranston, who Watson knew had taken up yoga after much encouragement on her part.
Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if the rest of the team knew about her and Turner, if anything it would probably humanize her to Cranston in particular; though the younger woman may consider Watson a bit crazy, since she's been privy to Turner's antics for quite some time now.
A particularly chilly breeze interrupted her thoughts, but instead of deciding to go back inside, Watson simply wrapped her hands around her favorite green mug and took a heavy sip from it, the cinnamon spiced coffee warming her from the inside.
She savored her favorite Christmas blend, not realizing she had company until a throw was placed over her and a soft voice tickled her ear, "Need some company?"
Despite the shiver that ran through her as she met Turner's eye over her shoulder, to retain some semblance of mind, she gave him a teasing reply, "Would you go away if I said I didn't?"
He looked put off for just a moment, before sitting himself down right besides her.
"Meh, probably not," he decided, nudging her just slightly. "Besides, I don’t think you could say no to my friend here," Turner added, producing a small bottle of Jack Daniels that Watson had no idea she still had.
It was interesting how long alcohol could remain untouched but still serve its purpose. She quickly realized that it was the same bottle they shared on her porch so many nights ago.
"May I?" Turner unscrewed the top and gestured to Watson's mug.
"By all means," she replied, watching as the amber liquid disappeared into the black in her cup. It was a dangerous combination, but she took a hefty gulp, the bitterness from the whiskey just the right adjunct to the spiciness of the coffee. Then Watson watched in surprise as Turner took his own cup and poured a generous amount from the bottle, setting it aside.
"Are you drinking coffee?" The brunette asked with exaggerated disbelief.
Turner gave her a side-glance before bringing the mug to his lips, "it's only tolerable with a bit of help from Mr. Daniels, otherwise it tastes like mud."
Watson rolled her eyes, perfectly aware of Turner's distaste for caffeine without him clarifying so, but an unintended smile fell on her lips as she watched him take a satisfied sip, not even grimacing at the bitter taste like he did before.
''That night seems so long ago." She said softly, watching as recognition crossed Turner's face, the muscles around his eyes softened as he returned her smile.
"Yeah, I remember thinking how dangerous you were."
"Dangerous?" Watson asked in surprise, but when Turner fixed her with a pointed stare, her bemused expression disappeared. "Is that why you left so abruptly that night?"
Turner nodded, wrapping his arm around her waist to bring her closer, his eyes never leaving hers as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "Yeah, I knew that if I stayed any longer, my self control would snap and I would-..."
"You would what?" Watson interrupted breathlessly, mind completely blank, focused only on Turner's intense gaze and the fact that his lips are now so close to hers, she could taste them. Turner didn’t say anything, instead moved the hand around her waist to her neck, burying it wrist deep in her hair before pulling Watson in for a kiss.
It was brief but deep, leaving her body humming, a distinct reminder of the activities her team interrupted prior to dinner. Turner didn’t let her go too far after parting, resting his forehead against hers as Watson savored the taste of whiskey and cinnamon on her tongue.
"I couldn't say I'm not upset that you left if this is what would have happened," she murmured, "but I'm glad you came back."
"Me too, " Turner said softly, his sonorous voice sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine as he looked at her with beaming eyes, fingers traced the chain on her neck. Watson leaned into his touch unconsciously, enjoying the companionable silence between them as she took a sip of the laced coffee.
Turner let the quiet overcome them for a moment, until he heard the voices from inside get closer and decided to make his move, "so if you hadn't been sipping on wine when the lovely April asked you about us, what would you have said?"
Watson looked up, rising abruptly from her position on his shoulder, green eyes looking uncertain for a moment before relaxing.
"In hindsight, I probably would have told the truth," she admitted and it didn’t seem as scary even when she said it out loud.
Turner's expression was blank, but his eyes conveyed contemplation, so Watson couldn't help but be curious and return the question.
"What would you have said?"
"I've never been ashamed of you, of us."
It was not quite the answer she was looking for but it filled her with a sense of calm she was not expecting.
"I know," Watson asserted, even though there was now a tiny part of her that felt more at ease than before.
"I'm the closest to happniess then I've been in years and I would shout it to the world if I could."
The admission was sweet, infinitely so, but the deep look of regret in his eye didn’t go unnoticed. With some men, it was all about figurative proclamations of love, exuberant lines meant to swoon, but those rarely ever held any meaning. With Turner, the phrase was quite literal.
They both knew there was a bigger reason to keep their relationship a secret beyond the PPB walls, away from the man responsible for stealing happiness away from Turner so long ago. Watson didn’t dwell on that fact, instead choosing to accept that as part of the reality, before just Turner's, but now hers as well.
She had always been defiant, an inherent trait in her personality, solidified especially after taking over the maternal role in her family and she refused to let the Red River Killer win. Won't let him force her and Turner apart, won't be afraid to reveal herself as someone important in Turner's life just because Red River might be watching. However, it was possible that Turner might not be as ready; after all he felt a personal responsibility for what happened to his wife and child.
It was apparent by his expression that he was terrified of the same thing happening to her, and although Watson wanted to shake him awake, let him know he wasn’t the same person as before, she knew he wouldn’t listen.
There were things that no amount of coaxing would change, so instead of pushing him, Watson scooted impossibly closer, hand reaching out to caress the smooth but strong line of his jaw as she looked on knowingly, "I know you would, but maybe we could start small, just a few friends." She suggested and found Turner agreed as he tightened his hold on her.
"Exactly what I was thinking."
"Glad we're on the same page," Watson responded, before pressing her lips softly against his, missing the mischievous look in Turner's eye right before.
The front door flew open causing Watson to push Turner away instinctively, only to find her team and April standing in the threshold, looking at her and Turner expectantly. Watson opened her mouth to speak, but Cranston beat her to it, "So we'll see each other on Monday then?"
She looked at Natalie without a hint of discomfort, which although surprising to Watson, also lifted a weight off her shoulders.
"Yeah. Thankfully we're not on call this weekend," Watson concurred, giving Grace a warm smile.
"Thank god. Poor Smith though. His team drew the short straw this year; the crazies tend to come out during the holiday season." Barnes chimed in, earning a few chuckles from the rest of the people on the porch.
"Well, we've got to be going, thank you for dinner, it was lovely." Ng announced, helping April into her coat.
Sometime between saying goodbye and watching as the two pairs drove off in their respective vehicles, Turner's arm slipped around Watson's waist, but she didn’t push him away. Instead she leaned against him, strangely not at all bothered by how calmly her team took the revelation. Of course, there was something else that dawned on her when she thought about how her team found out...
"Ow, what was that for?" Turner actually jumped away from her after she elbowed him not too lightly.
"You totally set me up!" Watson explained, more amused than furious, but he didn’t have to know that.
The sly smile that spread over his face was all the indication Watson needed that she was right. Instead of assaulting him once more, the detective pinned the advisor against the opposite pillar on her porch, a roguish glint in her eye as her fingers circled around the top button on his shirt, "I could shoot you right now."
"You could." Turner concurred, though the immediate physical threat didn’t deter him from settling his hand on her hip, her body flush against his.
"But I won't." She decided, finger flicking the first button open as she looks at him beneath hooded lashes, pink tongue darting out to trace over her lower lip, "on one condition."
"Which is?" his voice trailed off, trying to suppress a groan as Watson popped another button, finger tracing the exposed skin.
A whisper in his ear and then she was gone, hips sashaying to the door.
Turner took a deep breath, a play for self control, but when he saw Watson leaning against the doorframe with a darkened green gaze reserved solely for him, he realized he never stood a chance.