She's illuminated in morning sunlight, wearing nothing but his white shirt from last night, with both hands wrapped around a steaming mug. She didn't want to crumple the sleeves by rolling them up, but they look like accordion folds anyway, draped over her wrists. The soft cotton outlines the rise and fall of her breasts, and falls to her shapely bare thighs. The contrast between the straight lines of the shirt and her sweet curves goes straight to his visual cortex, burning into his memory.

He wonders for a moment if he's dreaming. It's still that new. They knew it would be good, but...this? How could anyone deserve this? And the best parts are moments like these: the quiet, in-betweens of their lives magnified by each other's presence. He's not sure why that surprises him, or why he's scared to voice it. They've had that effect on each other from their first shift.

She smiles at him over her mug. She gets it.

"Hey," he says simply, coming towards her. She rises up on her toes and her eyes drift shut as he leans down to kiss her. She lets out a soft murmur of approval and kisses him back. It's not long before her coffee's safely on the kitchen island, and her fingertips are sneaking up the muscles of his back. He ducks and touches his lips to that little spot he's found on her throat. The subtle scent of her, just Eddie, has driven him mad for years, and he finally gets to drink her in. Her breath turns ragged as he goes in for a nibble, the way that makes her toes curl.

Then he's the one shuddering all over, with the bite of her nails and her harsh exhale fluttering past his ear. Her hand slides under his shorts to palm his ass and pull him in closer. Jesus. It's like they haven't cooled down in weeks. A look and a touch and the embers crackle into flame.

He backs her up, two steps, three, till she's pinned against the counter, and he plucks open the few shirt-buttons she's bothered with. Good God, she's a feast. The sweet yielding softness of her turns the pleasurable throb in his groin into a demanding rush and pulse. The sunlight catches her long lashes as her eyes widen at the feel of him, before falling heavy on his mouth.

"How much time – "

"Enough," he growls against her impatient sigh, and lifts her right up on the counter.

A couple hours later, changing into his uniform at work and feeling mighty fine, he glances down at the stripes on his sleeve. It's such a small outward sign that makes a world of difference to him, navigating the physical corridors and the social minutiae of his new precinct.

That's when the idea hits him.

While Eddie is out at kickboxing that evening, he sits at home and approaches the question with the same care as any exam. Start simply, fill in what you know for sure, and then go looking to fill in the blanks.

What would Eddie want to wear around here, to make her feel like she lives here? Like she belongs here?

He's already formed a plan to get rid of some of his unnecessary gear and clear out a drawer or two, and make some space in his closet for her. That shouldn't take too long. They started keeping emergency bags with spare clothes and things at each other's apartments years ago, and she's been using hers happily enough as an overnighter, but things have changed. He smiles to think of surprising her with something hanging ready in her half of the closet. Maybe joke about her not needing to steal his shirts anymore now that she has something her own size to wear.

What would she like? Something warm to curl up in and watch a movie? Something sexy? What does each one imply? Would both be overkill?

Buying surprise lingerie for women is a minefield, he knows. So many guys end up buying what they want to look at, even if they get the size and shape more or less down. And who knows what passes for a good brand, besides the dollar figure? He only knows the names of a few high-end brands by their reputation.

He thinks of asking Erin's advice, but that would be both weird and a little intrusive on Eddie's behalf. If Eddie had a best girlfriend, he might ask her. But Eddie's always had a certain reserve around women her own age. There isn't any best friend he can ask for advice, because she's picked him for her best friend.

Which still gives him the happy flutters inside.

Well, then, where would a best friend take her to look for lingerie, he wonders. Window shopping? Boutique establishments? Online?

A best friend, he thinks, would first ask, "What do you like?"

Eddie likes comfortable things, and she wears a lot of blue and black and white, because they go with everything, especially jeans. She can't stand itchy things against her skin, at least not under her soft armor. He does know she's a four on top and a six on the bottom, because they've pitched each other's uniforms in with their own often enough over the years, after shifts that could politely be called messy.

That's a start.

He pushes his empty dinner plate away on the coffee table, and pulls his laptop towards him.

"robe", "small", "blue" and "petite", he starts keying in, and then, thinking on the fly, "+retail" and "+shipping" and to cut down on some of the more blatant porn.

He's seen plenty of girls in lingerie on screen before, sure, but this isn't that. He tries to see past the models and think of how Eddie might feel, as hundreds of styles and shades of blue scroll past. As he's scrolling, he tries to put himself within her skin: what it would feel like to be small and slender? What might feel comfortable and casual to lounge around in, but sexy when she felt like it?

Taking some hints from the page information of some of the nicer robes, he adds "-lace" and "pale blue", "100% silk" and "knee length".

He's left with a lot of images still, but he's starting to get into this game. He clicks on a few of the ones he can really see Eddie in, and visits each site. He's surprised to find most of them are from Europe, but then, so is Eddie. Simple and elegant, and very well made.

After a while, he thinks he's narrowed it down to one retailer based in England, which (who knew?) has won awards at lingerie fashion shows across Europe, and only entered the American market a few years ago. Okay, that sounds sort of special, he thinks, and the prices seem to indicate their garments are special as well, without being crazy expensive.

He clicks around their catalog of robes, and picks one that he keeps coming back to. It's a true summer-sky blue, in 100% high-grade silk that "has the weight of rich satin" according to the blurb. It's a well-cut kimono that falls just over the knee of the petite model, with a smooth front and hidden pockets. (He does know something about women and pockets.) It's listed as having three-quarter sleeves, which Eddie likes: they come down nearly to her wrist and don't get in the way.

Would she hang out in this if she just wanted to read or watch TV or something, whether he was there or not? Probably, he thinks. Would she feel sexy as hell in it, too, if that was her mood?

Oh, definitely.

Well, that sounds all right. He scrolls down, and sees a few recommendations for add-on pieces. And grins to himself.

There's a matching chemise nightie in the very same silk, sleek and classy looking, with thin satin cord straps and a simple v-neckline, without any itchy lace or bows or complicated doo-dads. She'll look like a million bucks in it, and he thinks she'll feel like it, too.

He clicks on that page, and finds there are consumer reviews about the brand and the fitting. One happy commenter even mentions being short with curvy hips, which convinces him he's struck gold. He sends up a prayer of thanks for women looking out for other women, who might not even realize they're helping their partners out too, and adds both items to his online shopping cart. With the express overseas shipping, it's quite a bit more than he'd planned on spending, but it'll be worth every penny, and they'll arrive in a week or so.

It's certainly an erotic charge to imagine how she'll look in the set, but the thought of her face when she discovers it is what keeps him grinning like a fool. Okay, and just maybe he's getting an insistent hard-on at the thought of unwrapping her by layers, from slowly tugging the belt of the robe undone to sliding the little straps over her shoulders…

He checks the time. Eddie should be here any moment, all mussed and lit up on endorphins from throwing large men around the mats.

Well, then.

The perfect opportunity comes two weeks later, while she's soaking in a hot bath after a shift that went overtime. He's got the box hidden on the top rack of his closet, where she'd never see it without a footstool. While Eddie works her way down a glass of wine and starts to hum snatches of show tunes to herself as she washes, he scoops things off hangers and bags them in neatly rolled bundles to take to the donation room at church.

He pulls down the small, flat box and opens it on the bed, extricating the robe and chemise from their layers of tissue paper. He's no expert in lingerie, but he does know what well-made clothing and good materials look like, and these are all that.

He really hopes she likes them.

He shakes them out smooth and arranges them on a hanger among a dozen or so empty ones, waiting for Eddie in what is now, as of this moment, her side of the closet. He puts the box back up, and angles his bedside reading lamp towards the closet.

He really, really hopes she likes them.

It isn't long before he's sprawled on his couch again, just in his jeans, watching the late news with one arm hooked behind his head. Eddie is still humming as she emerges in a cloud of steam, a towel wrapped and tucked around her.

He regards the intimate vision of her with undisguised lust, from her messy damp hair to her scarlet toenails, and she smiles back.

"Your hot water is hotter than mine," she notes happily. "But getting out feels way colder!"

"I can help with that," he says, and nods to the bedroom.

"Yeah, thanks." She walks past him, clearly thinking of the t-shirts she usually borrows for sleeping in.

There's a moment of quiet as she steps into the bedroom. Then a small squeak.

"Jamie!"

"Yee-us?" he drawls, as if his heart is not pounding away in anxious anticipation. "You need something?"

"Did you – really? – get in here!"

He laughs in relief and gets to his feet. In his room, Eddie is still wrapped in her towel, holding out the silk set on its hanger with a look of transported delight.

"You bought me these?" she asks, breathless, as if to make sure.

"Depends. D'you like 'em?"

"Do I…" she gazes at the blue silk in her hands, and back up at him. "Seriously, this is nice stuff, Reagan. This is the real deal."

"Oh, good," he says. "I just, I wanted you to have something that says you live here. And room for your stuff. 'Cause you do live here now, when you want to…as far as I'm concerned."

She gives him a melting look. "C'mere," she says softly. He does. She reaches up to kiss him warmly, sliding her free palm up his bare chest so he purrs. He nudges her nose with his to make her smile, and rests his forehead against hers for a moment. "They're so much nicer than I'd have gotten for myself," she tells him dreamily, and kisses him again. "Let's try 'em on."

She steps back and drapes her damp towel over the bedrail. Next thing he knows, there's a nude, bath-rosy Eddie in front of him with her arms up, and he's hastily slipping the chemise off the hanger and over her head. They both watch it slide like liquid over her breasts and hips, with the swish that only real silk over skin sounds like. He can only imagine what it feels like.

"Ohhh," Eddie breathes. "Look, it's perfect."

She catches a rear-view angle of herself in the mirror on the sliding closet door, seeing the purity of the line and drape of the silk, and the seamless way it follows her body. The hem falls at just the right point on her thigh to bring out the toned curve up the back. The colour makes her residual summer tan glow golden, and, as she turns to him, the blue of her eyes seems fathomlessly deep.

His breath comes short at the sight of her, and the expression on her face. She's not just hot and feeling it, but she's enchanted, too. It's a good look on her.

"Wait," he murmurs, as she reaches for the robe. "Lemme just – "

He pulls the closet door closed, so the full mirror is showing, and turns her around by the shoulder so she's facing it, standing in front of him. Her eyes widen at the sight of them, and flick upward to meet his in the mirror, a knowing grin hovering at the corners of her mouth. This isn't something they've done before. At least not on purpose. Nobody's complained about catching glimpses of themselves in flagrante, though, so hopefully she'll be…

Oh, yes. She is.

Holding her eyes, he sweeps her damp hair from one bare shoulder, and nuzzles under her ear. She inhales in pleased surprise as he finds and sucks her sensitive earlobe. He feels her breath coming short and quick as he slides an arm around her waist and strokes his fingers down one arm, loving the contrast of her strong muscles and the petal-soft skin along the inside. Her eyes close blissfully, but only for a moment. She doesn't want to miss this.

"Damn, that's nice," he murmurs. The heavy silk picks up the warmth of his hand instantly, and feels like a living thing as it moves with her. She hums in agreement, and her fingers slide through his, at her waist, as she leans back against him.

"You like how that feels?" she murmurs. "We should get us some silk scarves to play with, maybe?"

"You think?"

"Could be fun."

"I'm in."

"What would you do to me?" she asks, her eyes darkening. Oh, damn, he thinks. This just got even more interesting in a hurry. His anticipatory hard-on is wide awake now and he's going to have to get out of his jeans soon.

He slides his hands around her wrists and grips them just tighter than she's expecting, bringing them behind her back. Her mouth falls open on a gasp, and the arch in her back makes her nipples stand out, the silk highlighting them even more. "Like that? So you can watch me touching you…and all you can do is feel it."

Holding her wrists in one hand, he brings the other up under her breast and slides his thumb very lightly over her nipple. He swears he feels an echo of the electric jolt that passes through her, every sensation heightened through the silk. She lets out a low sound he's never heard from her, and her head falls back against his chest. "Fuck me, Reagan."

"Shhh. You know I'm gonna…" he does it again, to each generous breast in turn, stroking and rolling her nipples till they're peaked and sensitive and she's pulling against his restraining hand as she shudders in his grip. He lets go, and she turns and takes his mouth in a scorching, needy kiss that leaves him groaning and hard as stone under her seeking fingers. She works at his fly and gets his jeans and boxers off him in record time, and urges him on to the bed.

Sideways as they are, they can turn and watch everything in the mirror. He waits for her, breathing hard, his cock eager and straining for her as she climbs over him. The blue silk settles around them both as she rises and up and takes him in her hand, her hips rocking against him as she works him into a mindless pitch of intensity.

"Do it again," she whispers.

He pulls just enough wits together to sit up a little and grab her wrists again, grappling them behind her back, immobile this time. She moans and rises up on her knees, and eases down slick and warm and snug around him, till he's deep inside her and they lose themselves in the rhythm. Her pants turn to whipped little cries, and he's barely hanging on, it's so intense tonight, but he'll do it for her. They can't take their eyes from the scene in the mirror, the two lovers twined together, hurtling towards release. He thrusts upward, hard, and all her little muscles ripple and clench around him, and again, and again, till with a final groan he breaks and spills deep inside, and she falls and convulses in his arms.

It takes them some time to gather their brains, but eventually Eddie presses a kiss to his chest and turns her head to tuck into his neck.

"Jamie?" she murmurs.

"Mm?"

"Should we see if the robe fits?"