I need a fix of the first time Erin calls Jay babe. Like how at first it was an accident and she gets all embarrassed to now when she just is flowing it out in front of everyone! Please if you have time!
To be honest, I was thinking two days tops and maybe a few hundred words for this prompt and yet, here we are, six days and 3,320 words later, with the prompt finally filled.
There are five vignettes, that start quick and end the same way, progressing from the first use of the endearment “babe” and ending with a short prose retake of the ending scene of CPD 3x15. The second one is mildly inspired by one of my meta bullets. And apparently I can’t go long without PTSD!Jay, so you’re warned.
(Random: It’s like “Hey, Jude” except not in the slightest.)
Hopefully this meets your expectations well enough, Anon! As always, I covet your guys’ thoughts and opinions.
The third rumble of her belly in ten minutes finally gets Erin’s attention. It’s almost eleven at night, she’s finally getting drowsy, and she’s comfortable, leaning back against her partner with his legs boxing in her own and causing a source of amusement during commercial breaks. Erin, refusing to take the blame for ticklish feet, had offered, quite magnanimously, to go sit at the other end of the couch.
The shell of her ear is still warm from his offended nip.
Needless to say, it’s a very inconvenient time for the munchies.
A quiet breath escapes her. Fine. Jay, engrossed in their late night movie, doesn’t notice for several long moments as she pinches at his hands where he’s laced them together across her stomach.
“Jay, come on, I’m starving,” Erin lets her head back to rest on his shoulder, lower lip jutting in some semblance of a pout that gets him out of the movie a lot faster then digging her nails into his skin.
His gaze drops straight down a couple of inches and yes, she definitely has his attention now. “What did you say?”
Leaning in a fraction, just to tease him with the proximity, Erin smirks. “Let me up, I’m hungry.”
Jay blinks a couple of times before his brain cells reconnect and he casts her a flat, unamused look at her underhanded tactics. His grip does loosen though and Erin extricates herself with care, unable to help from grinning but not wanting to add injury to insult by elbowing him in the gut.
If there’s an extra swing to her hips as she walks away, well—Jay doesn’t call her on it.
so, this happened by accident, and there’ll probably be more in another couple of days and i only cried writing one of them.
some of you might remember mentions of “keller” from previous meta sets. just so there’s no confusion, he’s a random addendum and i like him.
Jay Halstead as a former Marine sniper and now first-time attendee of the Summer Olympics. Being heralded as one of the most anticipated athletes of the year as he lent his wartime combat experience to three separate Shooting disciplines. Alvin accompanying him as his longtime mentor and first coach.
Erin Lindsay as a returning athlete for women’s Boxing, having won a bronze medal eight years ago and planning on bringing home gold this time. Antonio as her coach since she started her Olympic venture and Hank as her surly father-figure of a security detail, there to look out for both her and Antonio after Erin’s split from the Fletcher family.
They meet in the stands of the first women’s beach volleyball tournament when Hank and Alvin spot each other from afar, having saved each other’s lives during the Korean War. Erin and Jay steal away to get food, leaving the old war buddies to their reunion.
It’s no surprise when the two groups switch flights to fly home together, Jay with two gold medals and Erin towing a silver that doesn’t smart as badly as she thought it would. Of course, the pleasure in Jay Halstead’s smile when she evicts Alvin to go sit next to Hank helps a lot.
Jay Halstead as a discharged veteran, traveling through America with nothing but his motorcycle and Keller’s dog-tags. Breaking down outside of Rivers Church, Nowhere in the middle of the Midwest and walking his bike back three miles to the dot-on-a-map town. Feeling something twist in his chest when he meanders into the only auto shop and she has green eyes, a black tank top, and the most endearing smudge of grease across her forehead he’s ever seen.
“I was 14 when I first walked in on my way home from work. Well, work was running dime bags for an SGD name Hard Boy, he lived upstairs. He used to slap me around. But after a few lessons, I showed him. I was at that point, you know? Fork in the road. Then this place introduced me to the Police Youth Boxing League. Saved my life.”
We interrupt your regularly schedule headcanon posting for a hypothetical drabble on CPD 3x17 before I have to bolt out the door to church. Enjoy!
Hank cuts Erin a look where she stands as her partner storms out of the garage, which is unnecessary because she’s already moving to follow him, taking the stairs two at a time to catch him before he can get back to the bullpen where they won’t get a moment of peace. Of all the mornings to get pulled into a paperwork glitch with Platt and running all over Chicago ferrying sensitive information, it had to be this one.
Jay’s shoulders are in a tight, severe line when Erin is finally within reach, grabbing his arm and wrenching him around. “Hey! Slow down, Jay.” She has to fortify herself against the grief carved into his features, the harsh, angry lines. This is a Jay she doesn’t know, has never been allowed to see before. Voice gentling, she prompts, “Talk to me. Come on.”
“You want to know what’s going on? Terry’s dead, Erin. He’s dead. He was going to be a dad and now his wife is alone.” Jay lashes out with his words, unforgiving, but Erin knows him well enough to see that his fury is directed at himself. He never feels like he’s enough.
Lips parting to take in a quick breath, she edges in closer, catching her partner’s hands, trying to ground him with her touch, her presence, like when his PTSD gets bad. “Jay, there was nothing you could’ve done. I talked to Antonio, those guys were fast, organized.” You’re lucky they didn’t kill you too, but those words get stuck on Erin’s tongue, because she hadn’t processed that yet. He’d been ten feet from being the one lying on a slab in the morgue.
He wrenches out of her hold though, hands raised as he takes a step back, shaking his head. “I could’ve stopped him. I could’ve made him stay under cover. Terry is dead because I couldn’t protect him, Erin!”
Grief of her own chokes her. “And you could be dead too right now, Jay!”
“Maybe I should be! Who’s going to die next because of me? You?” And just like that, the cutting reason behind his storm is clear.
Erin’s tongue is lead in her mouth, her stomach plummeting.