Work Text:
“Tell me something that will make today better.”
JJ keeps her voice low, almost a murmur. It’s after hours, but half the team is still lurking around the building, finishing paperwork, playing waste bin basketball. She’s on her cell phone, not her office line, and Will’s response comes with a whisper of static.
“What do you want to hear, chère?”
She leans forward over her desk, resting on her elbows. Six hours ago she was lying to the camera, straight-faced and dead serious. If she lets the wrong details slip, people die.
Sometimes they die anyway.
“Anything. Anything good.”
“You’ve got a flight to New Orleans next Friday. The long weekend.”
Smiling might break her. Morgan’s head appears, peeking around her doorway. “I’m heading out, taking Reid with me. Kid doesn’t know how to have fun.”
“That documentary on the history of physics is fun!” Reid insists from the hallway. Morgan just shakes his head.
“Who’s on the phone, JJ?”
“My mom.” Will’s warm chuckle in her ear, and she can almost believe he’s right there in the office.
Morgan grins. “You coming? Prentiss is meeting us at the bar.”
She hesitates, and she can hear Will’s smile in his voice when he speaks. “Go, chère. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I’ll talk to you then,” she says, and hangs up under Morgan’s sharp gaze.
Her flight to New Orleans lands long after dark. From the airplane window, the city sparkles like it's never known disaster. She hasn't checked a bag -- no need, for just a few too-brief days -- and Will's waiting for her, leaning against his car.
He doesn't say how much he's missed her. He doesn't need to. They're both tired, and it's almost midnight by the time they slide their clothes off and climb into bed, but his hands are warm and strong against her skin. His mouth coaxes her masks away, and she doesn't have to lie here, lying in his arms.
A couple stolen nights, and she'll be back in D.C. for god knows how long, or another town, another case. Quick phone calls, texts she deletes before someone on the team can borrow her phone (with or without her permission, since she works with a bunch of snoops). Half an hour on skype at the end of day.
She never expected this to work, much less to last. But here she is. "You're the better thing," she whispers, after he's fallen asleep, and she lays her head on the pillow and lets herself rest.
