A/N: This will be a collaboration of one-shots with PiscesChikk based on the seven deadly sins.

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

Envy

John wanted to kill him.

He wanted to use every single one of his considerable, deadly skills to make Ian Murphy pay. To make him suffer in the slowest, most painful way possible. To make him wish he'd never laid eyes on Joss Carter.

With plenty of Grey Goose running through his system and an evening's worth of jealousy lubricating the wheels of his imagination, he mentally listed all the ways he could dispatch the younger man. Get him out of Joss' life for good. He could do it if he really wanted to. Do it and never be caught. He had talents that would make even the bloodthirsty and hard-to-impress Shaw raise her eyebrows in awe.

Fingers curled around the steering wheel of Finch's borrowed Lincoln so hard his knuckles turned white, he glowered into the darkness as he watched the debacle currently playing out on Joss' small front porch. He bit off a blistering string of curses, several in foreign tongues, as Murphy slid his arms around her small waist, pulled her flush against him and lowered his head, kissing her the way John had always wanted to. With passion and fervor and an ample amount of tongue.

As her arms slid up and around Murphy's shoulders, her fingers tunneling through the short, blonde hair at his nape, John abandoned his stranglehold on the steering wheel. It wasn't enough anymore; he needed something else to help ground him. Anything to keep him from bolting from the safe haven of the car and doing unspeakable things to his rival.

He felt hot all of a sudden. Strange. Out of balance. Completely unprepared and woefully inept to deal with the onslaught of emotions that seeing Joss with another man had rained down on him.

Beecher didn't count. Although she'd dated the former detective for months, he'd never once felt threatened by that relationship. Never once felt like she'd slipped from his grasp. But this felt different. Like something that could last. He could see it in the soft way she looked at the other man. Hear it in the sound of her musical laugh.

He hated it, but not more than he hated Murphy for being able to be with Joss in a way that he could not.

John could feel the possessive anger he thought he'd gotten under control raging like a fire through his veins once more, trying like hell to consume him. Clenching his hands into tight fists, he dug his blunt fingernails into the tender flesh of his palms, using the sharp pain as an anchor. A sorry, but necessary attempt to douse his rising ire. He knew he had absolutely no right to feel this way, but his heart wouldn't be dissuaded.

Jealousy was rare for him. He'd learned to accept his lot in life long ago, never spending much time wanting what other people had. It just had never been worth the effort. Even when he'd been homeless, surviving off of scraps and cheap booze, wandering the streets without purpose or aim, he'd never desired what wasn't his. He didn't have that luxury.

In his hands—hands that could maim and kill with frightening ease—envy could be hazardous. It could be explosive and dangerous, breeding simmering resentment and unwarranted fear. If he wasn't careful, if he wasn't always on guard, it could easily consume him. Swallow him whole and make him do something foolish. Coerce him into doing all of the terrible, highly illegal things he was contemplating doing right this very minute.

But he wouldn't. He couldn't. Not if he ever wanted a real chance with the woman he'd loved for far longer than even he wanted to admit. As much as he disliked the man that had been wining and dining Joss all night, he'd refrain from putting his CIA training to use. No matter how difficult it would be.

It would feel good to make Murphy see the error of his ways. Satisfying. Rewarding even. But facing Joss' disappointment wouldn't be worth it. So he'd done nothing. Said nothing. Kept himself from falling back on his natural instinct to eliminate what he saw as a threat.

Instead, he'd sat and he'd watched and he'd fumed.

All evening, John had remained a wraith, lurking in both the literal and proverbial shadows, a feeling of sick dread knotting his stomach as he watched Joss enjoy her date. Watched her laugh and smile and flash those gorgeous dimples that he'd always pretended were meant just for him.

He'd tailed Murphy's sleek black BMW through the crowded city streets, nearly sideswiping an idling cab when he observed the younger man gently tuck Joss' hair behind her ear with a lingering touch that lasted far longer than necessary.

He'd stood guard outside a Soho art gallery, his imagination running wild as he put himself in Ian's place. Every man in the room would be jealous of him, coveting the beautiful woman with the sunny smile and generous curves that her black, strapless cocktail dress did absolutely nothing to hide.

He'd occupied a back corner table at one of Manhattan's high-end restaurants, blending in perfectly with the wealthy clientele in his black designer suit and limit-free credit card. Forced to sit silently by as the enemy flirted shamelessly with her.

And even now, at the end of it all, as the kiss mercifully ended and Murphy climbed into his car and drove away, the irony wasn't lost on him that this entire catastrophe was his fault. Because he was the one who'd put Joss in Ian's path in the first place.

Using her as bait had seemed like a good idea at the time, but in hindsight, there had been other ways. Smarter ways. Less efficient ways, sure, but ways that wouldn't have put her on his radar.

Secretly, a part of him had hoped that with her online dating profile—as honest and straightforward as he dared to make it—Murphy would pass her by. But he should've known better. He should've known. Because there was no way in hell that he wouldn't end up wanting her. John knew that better than anyone. They were kindred spirits in that respect, both caught up in the beauty and goodness that was Joss Carter.

She'd brought him back to life so easily that it both amazed him and scared him at the same time. She'd taken a wrecking ball to his carefully constructed walls, peeling back the layers of his indifference like it was nothing. She'd made him actually give a damn. Made him want to try. Made him believe that he could have a normal life. Have a healthy, loving relationship.

With her.

His phone buzzed from its spot on the passenger seat, the intrusion pulling him out of his musings. He cut his eyes at the bright display, any annoyance that had started to blossom immediately fleeing when he saw who was calling. Joss.

And just like that, just like always, without even having to hear the sound of her voice, she was able to calm him. He had no idea why she'd chosen this particular moment to call, but he didn't care. Anytime was the right time as far as he was concerned.

He eagerly tapped his earpiece. "Hey," he said, not bothering to hide the smile in his voice.

"Hey yourself." From her playful, teasing tone, it didn't sound like she was trying to hide hers either.

"What are you still doing up?"

Like he didn't already know.

"I could ask you the same thing. Working a number tonight?"

It didn't even occur to him to lie to her. "No."

"So what are you up to?"

"Nothing much. Just had to take care of some important business."

"Important business, huh?" A soft rustling floated over the line, and he could picture her moving around as she settled down for the night. "How important?"

John stiffened against the car's dark leather seat. There was something in her voice, something besides her light-hearted lilt that he couldn't quite read. His well-honed instincts warned him to tread lightly.

"Extremely," he answered truthfully, making sure to temper his tone.

"Important like…a stakeout maybe?"

Just as his internal alarm started blaring in crisis, Joss' front door was pulled open and still clad in that incredible black dress, she stepped out onto the porch, her phone pressed to her ear. Surprised by her sudden appearance, John's eyebrows nearly shot into his hairline as her eyes carefully probed the shadowy nooks and crannies lining the deserted sidewalk. Not finding what she was looking for, she changed strategy, her sharp gaze checking each parked car in turn.

When her eyes finally landed on the Lincoln, she lifted one arched brow, the slow, victorious smile that lifted her lips clearly visible under the bright porch light. The curls in her hair, still loose and flowing like black silk against her shoulders, were starting to wilt in the balmy night air, but even at nearly one in the morning, she still looked like a million bucks.

"Gotcha."

"You always do," John murmured quietly, blown away by her skills despite himself. The fact that she'd been able to zero in on his position after he'd purposely sandwiched himself between two hulking SUVs forty yards away from her brownstone was impressive.

Simply put, she was amazing.

Out of habit, he carefully scanned the area, making certain there were no immediate threats to her safety. If there were, he would have seen them long before now, but he didn't want to leave anything to chance. The combination of the late hour and her ongoing beef with HR put him more on guard than usual, but he relaxed slightly when the most dangerous thing he saw was a fat gray tabby dart across the street near the far corner.

"How'd you know I was out here?" he couldn't help asking.

"Because you're you." He could see her shoulders rise and fall, the yellow glow cast by the light overhead, making her brown skin gleam like a beacon in the darkness. There was no censure in her voice. Just the same genuine acceptance he'd come to cherish. "So…was this your 'something important?'" She leaned a shapely hip against the black metal railing bracketing the short staircase that lead to the sidewalk in front of her house.

"Yes," he admitted reluctantly.

Instead of the disapproving frown he was expecting, she surprised him once again. Straightening and taking a step forward, she placed one hand on the railing in front of her. She was looking directly at him, and although he knew she couldn't possibly see his eyes from this distance, it felt as if she was staring straight into his soul.

"You were there for all of it then."

It wasn't a question as much as it was a bold statement of fact. She knew exactly how he'd spent his evening; she just wanted to hear it from him.

"I was." He hesitated then blurted before he could stop himself, "Unfortunately."

That perfectly arched brow climbed upward again, one corner of her full lips mirroring the gesture. "Jealous, John?"

The question completely blindsided him, and he hesitated longer this time, not sure how he wanted to answer. If the situation wasn't so serious, he'd laugh. She knew him too damn well. And he knew her. She wouldn't have asked if she really didn't want to know. If she really didn't want a straight answer.

For the first time since they'd met, John was tempted to tell a little white lie, but in the end, he tossed the idea in the trash where it belonged. Lying to her wasn't an option. He'd never done it before, and he didn't plan on starting now. But answering her with the full unvarnished truth would fundamentally change things between them; he didn't know if he was ready to go there.

Not yet.

Besides, if she knew just how jealous he'd actually been, the chaotic feelings and the rather violent thoughts that had accompanied them, she'd probably want nothing to do with him. But he knew he had to tell her something. She wouldn't let it go until he did.

"John?"

Deciding that it was safest to travel down the middle of the road, at least for now, he chose to answer her question with one of his own. "Would it matter if I said I am ?"

Stomach flip-flopping nervously, he held his breath while she seemed to give his semi-confession serious thought. He watched raptly as she paced in a small circle, head down, one arm wrapped around her waist. Suddenly, she stopped and looked back at him, lifting a hand to push her hair behind her ear in the way he'd imagined doing a thousand times over the years.

"It might," she finally said, her voice low, hypnotic. Without waiting for a reply, she reached behind her and opened her door. Turning to step inside, she paused and gave him a small, tender smile. "Goodnight, John," she said softly before the line went dead and she disappeared inside.

"Goodnight, detective," he replied quietly when he finally found his voice again, still slightly stunned by what she'd just revealed to him. If he wasn't over-thinking things—and deep down he knew he wasn't—she'd just told him in so many words that she was willing to move beyond friendship. That being with her in the way he'd always desired wasn't an impossibility. All he had to do was step up.

But he was also fully aware that she wasn't about to sit around waiting for him to get his shit together either. He'd been put on notice tonight. He could either pick up the ball she'd thrown in his court, or he could continue to sit on the sidelines.

Soon, Joss, he promised himself with a smile as he started the car and slowly pulled away from the curb.

Soon.