Title: Cold Turkey
Author: Kathmak
Category: DRR; Fluff; Romance; Humor
Summary: Monica kicks a nasty habit, with a little help from John.
Disclaimer: Same as always...I'm just borrowing these delightful characters.
Notes: I always wondered how Monica was able to quit smoking so quickly between seasons 8 and 9, so I decided to supply my own little explanation for that. Many thanks to Tracy for your Drippy input and assistance. You kick "you-know-what." :-)
Monica Reyes desperately wanted a cigarette. This week had been too stressful, too intense. She fished through her purse, in dire need of a nicotine fix.
"Lookin' for somethin', Mon?"
John Doggett sat across from his partner, studying her intently. They were in the midst of fulfilling what had become a tradition for them: every time they closed out another X- Files case, they celebrated by sharing a beer or two at their favorite watering hole in D.C. A little sports bar within walking distance of the Hoover Building, it was commonly referred to as "Copland" because of the large number of law enforcement types who frequented it. Both John and Monica looked forward to this little ritual more than they cared to admit because it meant they were able to spend time with each other outside the confines of their dingy basement office.
"I'm, uh, just looking for my lipstick," Monica replied, careful to not make eye contact with him. If he looked in her eyes, it was all over: John could always tell when she was lying. He knew her so well it was irritating.
John grinned at her like the proverbial cat that ate the canary. "You're not lookin' for these, are you?" He held up a crumpled pack of Morley Lights.
"You can't prove those are mine," she stammered lamely.
"Oh no? Well, I guess I took 'em from your evil twin, then." He was still grinning, and Monica wanted to slap him. She made an attempt to reach for the cigarettes, but he held them just out of her reach.
Monica was indignant. "I don't recall giving you permission to go through my personal belongings," she huffed.
"I didn't. I just happened to see them sticking out of your purse when you went to the ladies room before." John's expression turned serious. "Hey, what do you want with these cancer sticks anyway? I thought you quit."
"I did quit," Monica replied defensively. "Well, I quit for the most part. But every once in awhile I feel like I need one to calm me down." What Monica couldn't explain was that he was the main reason she wanted a cigarette so damn badly. Being this close to him day after day, week after week, smelling his aftershave and hearing his voice and looking into those eyes made her want to reach out and kiss the living daylights out of him. So close, yet so far. At times it was almost unbearable.
"You should quit for good. That crap will kill you, Mon."
"Why, John, how sweet. I didn't know you cared," she retorted sarcastically.
"Of course I care, Monica. How could you even doubt that?" John said, doing nothing to disguise the hurt in his voice.
Monica waved her hand dismissively. "Sorry, I was kidding. Anyway, John, sometimes it's nice to have a cigarette when I'm out at a bar. Gives me something to do with my hands."
"You have a beer in your hand," John pointed out helpfully.
She rolled her eyes at him. "Yes, but what about the other one?" As if to illustrate her point, she laid her unoccupied hand on the table, palm facing up.
"Maybe I can help you out," he offered. She watched in surprise as John reached over and covered her hand with his. A shiver ran through her when she realized that John was actually holding her hand– and in public, no less. His hand was warm and strong, and suddenly a cigarette was the last thing on Monica's mind.
"Will this do?" he asked slowly, his eyes never leaving her face.
Monica nodded slowly, momentarily unable to speak. She thought for a minute that she was dreaming; after all, the only occasion in recent memory that she could recall John intentionally holding her hand was the time she was about to step into the path of an oncoming car, and that didn't really count.
Monica couldn't help but smile at the man she was quietly in love with. She tried to command herself to stop smiling, but apparently her mouth had other ideas.
"You're smilin.' Now that's what I like to see. It suits you a hell of a lot better than that scowl you had on your face a few minutes ago."
"I'll take that as a compliment, I think." Monica laughed.
John's voice seemed to deepen an extra octave. "Oh, you can definitely assume that, Agent Reyes." He was still holding her hand, but now he was also gently caressing her wrist with his fingertips.
His hands are so big, she thought to herself. For a fleeting moment she wondered if it was true what she once heard about the size of a man's hands being directly proportionate to the size of his...
Oh, my. Monica felt her body go numb at the thought, and suddenly she was incredibly thirsty. She grabbed her beer and gulped down the remaining contents in one swallow. After wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she triumphantly set the empty bottle down in front of John.
She was emboldened by this quick burst of alcohol. "Look, John." Monica held her now empty hand out. "I have a free hand. Now give me my frickin' cigarettes!" She made another attempt to reach for the cigarettes that John still had in his possession.
He upped the ante. "You want 'em? Come and get 'em," he teased, wagging the pack directly in front of her. John then stuffed the cigarettes deep into his pants pocket.
For a minute she actually considered calling his bluff. It would teach him a lesson for being so damn smug. But she decided to try a different tactic. It would be interesting to see how far this little game would take them.
"Wow, John," she said, licking her lips suggestively, "I had no idea you were so anxious to get me into your pants."
Monica watched in amusement as his mouth dropped open and the tips of his ears turned a lovely shade of red. Ha! Take that! She gave herself a mental pat on the back for successfully rendering John Doggett speechless.
"Nice try, Monica," John said, attempting to recover his composure. "But sorry, you're still not gettin' these back."
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Well, I suppose I could just go up to the bar and bum one off of those nice gentlemen over there," she said, although she made no effort whatsoever to move.
His grasp on her hand tightened just a little. "You're not going anywhere. Not until I educate you on the drawbacks of tobacco," he said.
"Oh, so I suppose now Professor Doggett is going to give me a lesson on how cigarettes do horrible things to my lungs, and how they're going to shorten my life span?" Monica snorted.
John leaned in until his face was just inches from hers. "Nope. Actually, I was gonna tell you how much nicer it is to kiss someone who doesn't smoke."
Well, this is an interesting development. "Planning on kissing me tonight, John?" she croaked, trying her best to sound nonchalant.
"I was thinkin' about it," he smirked, "but not if you put one of those damn cigarettes in your mouth."
"Do you know of something better I can put in my mouth, then?" Monica blurted out the words without even thinking.
"As a matter of fact, I do," he winked.
Monica's eyes widened as the innuendo of her question to John finally sunk in. Her cheeks turned crimson with embarrassment. "Guess I walked into that one, didn't I?" she giggled self-consciously.
"You sure did. And I'm hopin' like hell that you never walk out." John stroked her face with his knuckles as he closed the gap between their lips and kissed her gently. She returned the kiss not-so-gently, with an intensity that almost startled her. It didn't seem to phase John in the least, though. His hand clutched hers even tighter as he broke the kiss and leaned over to whisper in her ear.
"Monica?"
"Yes, John?"
"Let's get outta here. I wancha alone," he growled, his eyes sparkling in the dim light.
It's about time, she thought to herself with relief.
"My place is closer," she said seductively. But let me do one thing first." Monica stood up and playfully reached into John's pants pocket. She was tempted to let her hand linger there but she was on a mission. He looked at her with mock surprise as she pulled out the pack of Morley Lights and abruptly dunked them into the half-empty water glass on the table.
"What're you doin'?" he asked, although Monica suspected he already knew the answer.
"I'm replacing one addiction with another," she said with a grin. "Now take me home so I can have my way with you."
John was halfway to the door before Monica stepped foot out of the booth. "I'll get the car," he called out over his shoulder.
End-