Breathing The Same Air

He leans in close enough that she's tempted to kiss him and put an end to this never-ending dance they are in. She stops herself just in time.

His breath is warm on her face. For a moment she muses on the fact that they are breathing the same air. He exhales it, she inhales it and vice versa.

She can smell his aftershave, so sweet and intoxicating and everything him. It mixes with the fresh shampoo smell from his still wet hair. He'd just gotten out of the shower when she arrived at his place.

She takes a deep breath, almost tasting him by the simple action. Her senses are so overwhelmed by all that is John Doggett that it takes a second to register that he's speaking to her.

"Monica? Are you with me?" he asks.

She blinks and shakes her head to clear her thougths. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

He narrows his eyes at her. "You were staring at me. You had a strange expression on your face."

"Sorry," she excuses herself. "I'm with you now." She forces the forbidden thoughts from her mind and fixes him with a determined stare - this time to show she's listening to hijm rather than fantasising, though she hopes he doesn't realise she's been distracted from him...by him.

"Good to hear," he smirks at her. He gets back to talking through their latest case.

She goes back to daydreaming.

She doesn't bother telling him she'd already reviewed the file earlier.

She doesn't want to pass up the chance to watch him and to breathe him.

fin.