#Dwayne Pride fanfic

[cinnikiroll]

the unspeakable secret (dwayne pride x reader)

Summary: When Dwayne and the reader get married for an undercover case, the reader questions whether Dwayne loves them or not. When something terrible happens, Dwayne realizes his mistake.

Word Count: 1,814 words

Trigger Warnings: Blood and injury

If you like this fic, please do check out my other fanfics on AO3 under the username cinnikiroll. Here is a link to my profile, where I have fics from other shows for your viewing pleasure!

This fic was a request! If you want to make requests for fics, you can either do it in my asks here or in comments of any of my fics here or on AO3. Thank you to the lovely human that requested this, I hope it is to your liking! ❤️

It was hard to be a wife.

You had already known that, but you underestimated just how hard being one would be, especially when your husband didn't love you back.

Although it was hard to blame him for his lack of love. The two of you were just meant to be married for an undercover mission. It wasn't supposed to be official at all, and you were meant to break up and never speak of it again the moment the mission was over.

But, unfortunately, there was a mistake with the registrar's office, and now you were officially filed as a married couple.

At first, you had been in denial over it. Surely this had to be a joke, right? There was no way that such a great mistake could have occurred. Dwayne was just trying to play around with you, trying to make the typical fear you felt during an undercover operation disappear.

But when the realization set in, you were rather pleased.

You'd never admit it, but you had a crush on Dwayne ever since your first day at the New Orleans field office. His deep baritone voice, easy smile, and fatherly demeanor brought comfort to your heart, even on your hardest days.

Denying those feelings were useless. They were evident in every atom of your body, every breath you drew into your lungs, filling the air around you with the sweetness of love.

But being Dwayne's wife?!

Now, there was a dream you never thought could be fulfilled until now.

When the two of you returned home from the undercover operation, the team constantly teased you over your newly created bond. Percy bought you matching tumblers, LaSalle saved you in his contacts with Pride as your surname, and Sebastian exclusively called you, 'Dwayne's spouse'. It was irritating at first, but it became endearing in a sense after a while.

You had never really lived in a great apartment all your many years in New Orleans. The one you lived in currently was moldy, with peeling wallpaper and neighbors that would constantly have fights with one another seemingly uncaring of the early hour during which they were having their rather loud altercations.

Dwayne, out of the kindness of his heart, offered you a room in his apartment above the Trutone free of charge. At first you were hesitant to take it, not wanting to infringe on his already limited space, but after he made a joke that, "It's the least a husband could do," you begrudgingly accepted.

Living with him was good, at first. The two of you didn't disturb each other's lives at all, even though you woke up at similar times and had to share things like a closet, one chest of drawers, and the bathroom- which was a hard commodity to learn to share.

But then, time passed, and your relationship remained stagnant. The inaction Dwayne took to show any kind of affection towards you, despite the two of you being married, irritated you greatly. You tried to express your emotions to him, to tell him that you craved more affection than he most likely could ever show you, but every time the two of you got somewhere in your conversation, one of you was summoned back to the office for a case.

One night, the two of you were sitting at the dinner table, eating a very pleasantly spiced jambalaya, when you decided to bring up the topic of your relationship again.

"Dwayne?"

You murmured in a soft voice, noticing that he looked deep in thought.

Your hand unconsciously moved closer to his, trying to link together, but he jerked away from your touch as if burned. When he spoke, his voice was rough and husky with unspoken emotions, a sign that something was definitely on his mind.

"Yes, darlin'?"

Darlin'. You call me that, yet you never show me any evidence that you truly love me. You're just a liar...

You thought bitterly, trying not to let your anger show.

"We need to talk about us. About this relationship."

Your firm tone caused Dwayne's brow to furrow in concern. His hand, which had previously moved away from yours, now grasped yours tightly, stroking your knuckles slowly with the pad of his thumb.

"What's wrong with us?"

He asked, genuinely sounding concerned.

"You never-"

Your explanation was cut off by your ringing phone. Sighing deeply, you pulled it out of your pocket and answered, knowing already who had called you and where you needed to go.

While still on the phone with LaSalle, you grabbed your sweater and car keys, looking back at Dwayne sadly.

Guess tonight's not the right time either.

You thought somewhat angrily as you left for the NCIS office.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Dwayne awoke from a rather restless nap with a burning headache and the distinct sense that something was terribly wrong.

Upon completely examining the whole apartment three times to find no problems, he still couldn't banish the feeling of dread that was swimming around in his gut like an extremely tenacious fish.

Distracted by worries of what this feeling could mean, he didn't expect his phone to suddenly ring. The loud sound made him jump out of his skin, but he quickly recovered, rushing over to his bedside table to grab his phone and answer it.

"Dwayne..."

Your voice was speaking on the other end, but something was clearly wrong with you. You never sounded that quiet before... and was that a moan of pain he could hear?!

"Darlin'?! It's four thirty in the morning! Where are you?"

Dwayne tried to keep the overwhelming feeling of panic that was suddenly flowing through him out of his voice, but it was hard. Hearing you so weak, clearly injured... it triggered feelings in him he didn't know he had.

Well, he admitted begrudgingly, I knew I loved them since the first day we met. I was just too shy to admit it...

As he dwelled more and more on his unspoken love for you, a realization came to him that stopped his heart for a moment. He froze, overcome with sorrow, and the waves of panic threatened to drown him.

What if he could never express his love?

What if you were dying, out somewhere in the cold city, alone, without him by your side?

What if you breathed your last breath not knowing how much he loved you?!

No! He couldn't let that happen! He couldn't!

With tears threatening to spill from his eyes, Dwayne grabbed his car keys and raced down the stairs two at a time, trying to comfort you as he frantically rushed to be by your side.

"Baby, where are you?! I'm coming right now, just tell me where you are!"

Your weak voice managed to say your location, and then the line went dead.

"No! No, darlin'! You can't do this to me! You can't! You have to stay alive, you hear me?! Please..."

Dwayne stepped on the gas as hard as he could, willing to risk anything to reach you as fast as possible, even if that consequence turned out to be personal injury.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Breathing was becoming more and more difficult as the minutes passed. The pool of blood you were lying in widened, flowing over the rocky ground you had forced yourself to lie prone on after the shootout.

The suspect you had been pursuing turned out to be more adept with weaponry than you or the rest of the team had expected. Unfortunately for you, you had to learn that lesson the hard way, and now you were paying the price.

Moaning softly, you pressed your hand to the wound on your side. It had most likely ruptured or at least scratched a kidney, judging by your extreme pain there and the great deal of blood you were losing. If you didn't get medical attention soon, your chances of survival were dismally low.

Where's Dwayne, anyway?

You wondered, slowly turning your aching head to examine your surroundings. Try as you might, you couldn't see your husband anywhere, at least not anywhere nearby.

That asshole! He said he'd be here, that I had to hold on for him! Hold on for what? He's not even coming!

Closing your eyes, you let out a soft sob that turned into loud, body racking wails. It was quite possibly your last minutes on this earth, and Dwayne still couldn't bring himself to be by your side. What a good for nothing excuse of a husband he was!

As you cried, losing yourself in the excruciating pain you were suffering mentally and physically, a gentle touch on your injured side was unnoticed.

But when you heard a familiar baritone voice whispering in your ear, comfort flooded over you, and you looked up with teary eyes to see Dwayne's concerned face looking back at you.

"Oh, darlin'... you're hurt bad..."

His voice was choked by tears, a rare sight to see.

Your body was getting colder every second, and your vision was slowly giving out. In one monumental effort, you brought your hand up to caress your husband's cheeks. They were damp with tears, so you used the pad of your thumb to brush them away.

"You're... here..."

Speaking was a painful affair, your straining lungs unwilling to let you get more than a few syllables out before seizing up with flashes of lightning-shock-like pain. But you needed to. You had to express what you never could all those nights you tried to, had to get your true emotions out even if they were your last words.

"You... never... loved... me..."

Each word was a Herculean effort, and you could feel the darkness closing in on you quicker with every letter you uttered. Your breathing was becoming shallower and occurring less often, your heart was slowing. You knew this was the end.

In your last moments alive, you looked at Dwayne's face, at the pain etched so clearly into every tiny wrinkle. And you had a realization, one that warmed your halted heart.

"You... do..."

With a slight shudder and one last wail, you breathed your last breath.

Your features were peaceful in death, a stark contrast to the cringing bundle of pain you had been moments before. A small smile graced your lips, as if you were only sleeping and having a pleasant dream. The only proof that you were actually dead was the pool of blood surrounding you and the hole in your side where the bullet had struck you.

Lifting your body gently into his arms, Dwayne kissed your forehead, hoping whatever remnants of your spirit remained within you could feel comforted by the simple show of affection he had waited far too long to show you.

"I love you," he said, repeating it until his voice was hoarse from the effort.

But there was no reply.

You were already gone.

[le-amewzing]

Don’t Flinch

I haven't been able to stop thinking about this smol cross-over idea for months, so I finally sat down and wrote it! :'D

Fic: "Don't Flinch" [FFN] [AO3]

Pairings/Characters: Lucy Tara (brief mentions of Lucy/Kate Whistler) & Meredith Brody, Jane Tennant, & a cameo from Dwayne Pride

Rating: K

Words: ~2,330

Additional info: gen fic, friendship, 3rd person POV

Summary: When Lucy's hesitancy to take the agent afloat position risks her dragging her feet and losing the opportunity, Tennant pulls some strings so Lucy can chat with someone who's been there before.

      "They're going to want a decision, Lucy. Soon."

      Lucy blinked and finally raised her eyes from the folder in Tennant's hands. Her mouth popped open, in a small "o," but no sound came out. That made sense; she'd already blurted to her boss exactly why she'd applied for this agent afloat position what felt like a lifetime ago.

      Tennant's expression softened. She gave Lucy a fleeting smile, and her shoulders sank a smidge as she set the assignment aside on her desk behind her. "There are a lot of things you'll have to do, before you go, if that's what you choose. I know you don't have a lot of time to decide."

      Lucy bit her bottom lip.

      "You do still want this, though, right?"

      "I…" Good grief, Jesse was always teasing her for being a chatterbox—but where had her words gone today? Lucy took a breath and squinted at the older woman. "I need time to think," she admitted in all honesty. "I mean, what would you do, in my shoes?"

      But Tennant shook her head, not falling for the bait. "You know I can't answer that. Around your age, I was CIA and married and a mother already. That's comparing apples to oranges and wouldn't help you at all."

      Lucy ran an anxious hand through her hair but nodded. "Yeah…"

      Yet, after an odd beat, Tennant had that creative twinkle in her eye, the one Lucy and the others usually saw either just before they closed a case or before they blew one right open. "Actually, you have a good point. You do need time to think, as well as some help with the pros and cons." But, at the same time, Tennant turned her junior field agent around and ushered her out of the SAC's office.

      "Wait, huh? I'm confused," Lucy said. She glanced up at Tennant when the other woman directed Lucy back to her chair behind her own desk out in the bullpen. "You agree with me?"

      Tennant grinned—though, coupled with that twinkle in her eye, it wasn't as reassuring as Tennant might've intended—and twirled Lucy's chair so Lucy faced her computer. "Look, just. Distract yourself with the case at hand. Or even some old paperwork. I've a call to make."

      "To wh—"

      But Tennant wasn't sticking around to answer. The second Lucy twisted around to ask, Tennant had disappeared already.

      Lucy frowned. At a time like this, she partly yearned to be out in the field, canvassing with Kai or with Jesse…then again, Whistler had come into her own a lot and was meshing with the team really well as their FBI liaison lately, and Lucy didn't want to interfere with her girlfriend's place on the team. It was better that Whistler, not Lucy, was out with the guys right now.

      At the thought of the blonde, Lucy's eyes flicked back to Tennant's office, through the glass walls and to the folder waiting on Tennant's desk. If only this position hadn't come up now… If only Lucy hadn't applied in a desperate attempt to get off the island months ago…

      She shook her head and got to sorting through information on their current case as Tennant suggested. Nope, there was no point in crying over spilt milk. Tennant was right: Lucy had a lot to sort out before she made her decision.

      …Lucy had a lot of people to tell, before she made her decision.

      Her list wasn't a long one, but Whistler's smile kept popping up in front of her other thoughts whenever Lucy attempted to focus on the current evidence list. Ugh, casework wasn't going to happen while she dreaded bringing up an agent afloat position to Whistler just when they were not only happy but actually getting started. Practical though the FBI probie might be, Whistler's smile easily faded in Lucy's mind's eye as she imagined telling her about the hypothetical time away from Hawaii.

      Lucy glanced at her watch. Tennant had been gone for barely twenty minutes. Maybe she'd be back soon with whatever miracle she'd implied?

      When another fifteen minutes passed of Lucy mindlessly sifting through files and rereading witness statements without absorbing words, she yawned and knew she needed a change of pace. The guys hadn't returned yet, and her text history with Whistler left off with this morning's hearts and funny faces (cute, nothing new, but it did hit Lucy with a fresh wave of guilt). "Time to see what snacks Ernie's packing today," Lucy mumbled to herself as she pushed up from her chair.

      "Lucy!" Tennant called from the stairs.

      The petite agent jolted and glanced to where Tennant waited for her. "Yeah, Boss?"

      Tennant merely beckoned with a nod and a curl of her fingers.

      Lucy glanced around her, but the other agents in the office paid her no mind, so she scurried across the way and up the stairs after their SAC. But, upstairs with the big screen, Tennant wasn't alone.

      "Happy to do a favor for our sister office on the other ocean," said a much older man onscreen. His hair was mostly silver and a bit blond and white in places, and he had large, dark, drooping eyebrows over dark, drooping eyes that, coupled with his smile, reminded Lucy of a friendly neighborhood dog. He tore his eyes from Tennant for a moment when Lucy entered the room, and he tipped his head to her. "Well, now, you must be Special Agent Tara. Dwayne Pride."

      "My counterpart out of New Orleans," Tennant supplied, "the Southeast SAC."

      At that, Pride shook his head, though his smile never dimmed. "I tried tellin' the director that we did this dance before and didn't like it, but…after everything…Director Vance is willin' to give this another shot. So long as I get to supervise from the field, that is."

      He smiled while Tennant smirked. "I prefer to call it a 'hands-on approach,'" she supplied.

      Lucy glanced between them both before finally sliding in her own greeting. "It's—It's very nice to meet you. And to hear a somewhat familiar accent," she tacked on, chuckling and letting a little of her Texan drawl leak in for his reference.

      "Much obliged. If you don't mind me not beatin' around the bush—Tennant tells me you've got a mighty fine opportunity in front of ya, but you've gotta make a decision by tomorra?"

      "I, uh, yeah." Lucy swallowed a lump that formed in her throat in spite of the pleasant atmosphere.

      Pride nodded. "Yep, not easy, makin' choices this big at the last minute. But I have an old associate on the line, waitin' to speak with ya. Thought she might—help clarify things." His smile lessened for a brief moment, his lips a tight line and his eyes narrow. Lucy would've asked if something were the matter if he hadn't nodded to Tennant instead.

      Tennant, in turn, touched Lucy's shoulder. "You can have the room, as long as you need."

      Lucy furrowed her brow and watched Tennant go. Still bewildered, she faced the screen in time for Pride's feed to cut over, and a new face replaced his.

      This time, a woman maybe Tennant's age or a little younger greeted Lucy. Whereas Pride's backdrop had been the New Orleans office—his backdrop reminded Lucy a little of the main office's MTAC in D.C.—it was hard to make out this woman's whereabouts, since everything behind her was too dark and not well defined, all gray and black. With her dark hair, too, she would've blended in to her surroundings, if not for the way her computer screen lit up her pale skin in that ethereal, electronic manner; she might even be paler than Whistler, Lucy guessed. But her eyes—her eyes were bright, sharp, and piercing when they landed on Lucy.

      Lucy licked her lips. "Special Agent Lucy Tara," she introduced herself.

      The woman onscreen smiled briefly, but it felt…less friendly, perhaps pitying? Lucy mused. "Meredith Brody," she said.

      Lucy's eyes widened. Brody… Brody. Brody. The name tickled the back of her brain, especially today of all todays, with this job offer a hot topic— "OH!" Lucy couldn't help but gape and gesture at Brody. "You—! You're Brody! That Brody! You were the youngest agent afloat assigned to duty!" She grinned and nearly laughed in amazement. "Holy crap. I just—I can't believe Tennant managed to set this up and." She paused for breath and stared. "Oh. Oh, God. I hope I'm not imposing? I know there's, like, five hours between here and New Orleans—"

      Brody actually chuckled, which brightened Lucy's impression of her, and the other woman held up a hand to calm the junior field agent down. "Tara, Tara, don't worry about it. I'm not in New Orleans, but the hour isn't a problem. Plus, Dwayne Pride did a lot for me, back in my NCIS days. It's the least I could do."

      That splashed cold water on her excitement, and Lucy's cheeks reddened. "Oh, you're—you're not NCIS anymore?"

      Brody shook her head. She hesitated before saying, "No, I… I needed a fresh setting, so I took a personal contact's offer to work for DARPA, helping to manage security and assess threats. I see fewer people than I did in my old job, but I still get to flex my investigative skills." She shrugged.

      Brody played it off as though it were nothing, but Lucy's eyebrows hovered high. Mentioning DARPA so smoothly? She had been impressed to meet the youngest agent afloat before; now Brody was somehow topping that.

      "So, you have a chance to be agent afloat yourself."

      "Yes, I do. I'd applied months ago, actually." Lucy dropped her eyes to her hands, which she kept clasped in front of her, to prevent her from twiddling her thumbs. "…to be quite honest, I applied when my head was in a different space and I thought I had a million-to-one chance of landing this, especially being a junior field agent."

      Brody nodded. "No, it's not something they usually give to probies."

      Lucy tensed.

      "But everyone has to earn their experience somehow, and someone saw something in you. That's a good thing."

      She tentatively raised her head, trying to muster a smile at the encouragement. "Yeah… Yeah, I guess."

      Brody had to be sitting at a desk or table on her end, because she leaned forward and rested her chin on her hand while she studied Lucy closer, as though leaning in to the camera would give her better access. Brody narrowed her eyes, somewhat squinting, while she smiled. "Might be the right job but not the right time?" she surmised.

      Lucy frowned.

      Brody nodded again, but it was a small notion, mostly for herself. "I get it, having your reasons. Probably ones you might share and others you might not, for not jumping on the offer."

      "Was it the same for you?" Lucy asked. "Did you ever feel butterflies or—or dread before accepting your agent afloat position?"

      Brody paused before answering. "Not at first. Although the usual warnings you get, about 'finding your sea legs,' don't do being on an actual ship justice, so I can vouch for investing in decent seasickness meds if you opt to go."

      Ah, right. There was being on the water twenty-four–seven that Lucy would also have to overcome… She twisted her lips around, waiting for Brody's next piece of advice.

      But the older woman's humor mellowed. Her posture on the other end of the video call went somehow both tense and slack—Lucy read her body language as…apprehensive, yes, that was it—and Brody's eyes lost their focus or turned to something in the distance before she continued. "It's one thing once you get the hang of being an entire NCIS investigative team on your own, aboard a ship…" She paused for so long that Lucy thought the feed had frozen, when Brody resumed, "It's another if you're ever faced with a situation you simply can't prepare for." There, even with her eyes not quite on Lucy, Brody's expression darkened.

      Lucy waited a beat before asking, "Then…we just prep as best we can, right?" She timidly smiled, too, craning her neck a bit in an effort to catch Brody's attention, half wondering if this call really had been a good idea if it'd sent Brody down some dark trip on Memory Lane.

      Brody attempted to return the polite smile, at least. But she didn't expound on her previous thought.

      "…hey. Brody, did—did that happen? To you?"

      She paused, waiting for Brody to respond, but the dark look on Brody's face was clue enough: Brody expected Lucy either would've read up on more than just Brody's history-making assignment or she would do so after they disconnected today. So Lucy switched tactics.

      "What I mean is: What's your advice, in the event that…I encounter something unexpected?"

      Those same bright, sharp, piercing eyes that had first landed on her minutes ago bored holes into her now. "It's simple: Don't flinch."

      That plain response, said so steadily and without blinking, chilled Lucy. But it also oddly settled her nerves. About telling Whistler, telling her friends, even imagining being aboard that ship—these things didn't seem so scary anymore. Not that Lucy wanted her own unexpected moment, but Brody was proof that you could go in, face anything, and still emerge on the other side.

      Lucy couldn't see why she wouldn't take this job now.

      This time, when her mouth popped open, she wasn't speechless. "Thank you," Lucy said, her voice steady for the first time in hours.

      The darkness mostly vanished from her expression, leaving a haunted impression of Brody to Lucy, but Brody nodded and tried to smile, tired though the gesture was. "I wish you luck, Agent Tara." A second later, the screen faded to black.

      The second after, Lucy turned heel, exiting the room and making for the stairs, calling out, "Hey, Boss…!"

Done for the 5, 10, 20, 50, 70, 100 Fandoms Challenge as well as the If You Dare Challenge (for prompt #150: tick tock goes the clock) in the HPFC forum on FFN. As some of my pals know, I've actually had a smol 4-way xover planned for a while, but I need the time to sit down and write that (idc that the shows managed to do the 3-way xover…I miss NOLA…!), and then this idea cropped up, so this got written first. XD Funnily enough, Lucy and Brody aren't even my fav charries in their respective series (that'd be Kai & Pike, and LaSalle & Gregorio & Jimmy Boyd, respectively ;3), but when Lucy's temporary transfer cropped up during s2, I did get to thinking about both Brody's infamous time aboard the USS Moultrie and Tony's time as agent afloat when Vance briefly split up the MCRT. I went with some embellishes here for Brody, but it felt fitting that Lucy might focus on the positive instead of the negative… I also like the Pride cameo, as well as some hcs for where both he and Brody are at this point in the NCIS canon. :3c (I actually have sooo many NOLA ideas, which—yet again—some of my pals know, but I deeply crave the time to write them all. XD) This rly is just some Hawai'i and NOLA fluff, but I think it fits nicely with Lucy's predicament. And woohoo! My first Hawai'i fic! :D (And here's my plug for NOLA: If you still haven't watched it yet, I highly rec it! -w-)

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

[moonlight-breeze-44]

Bad Things Happen Bingo Prompt Fill - "Disowned by Family"

Shelter From the Storm

When Gregorio comes out to her mother, the fallout leaves her falling back into old habits. Pride, however, is determined to remind her that she isn't alone in her struggles and that there are people that care about and love her just as she is right there in New Orleans. Sometimes, family doesn't have to be blood. Sometimes family can be found.

Pairings: None main; background PerSalle

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Self-harm, self-worth/esteem issues, general mental health issues, homophobia, disownment, blood/injury

Read on AO3

Gregorio knew it was only a matter of time before she had to make the phone call, but it didn’t mean getting the courage to dial her mother’s number and press call was any easier.

Now, alone in her apartment, she wished her heart would stop pounding into the beginnings of a panic attack and let her fucking breathe. Her hands were so clammy with sweat that she half-expected the phone to slip and fall to the ground. She wondered if maybe it would be better if it did. It would mean she didn’t have to face this.

Gregorio loved her mom, but that was half of the problem. Her mother could be old-fashioned, and Gregorio had been raised in the countryside of New York with two dogs, an old cat, and no father to speak of. In some ways, Gregorio was a lot more like LaSalle than she wanted to admit.

As she waited for Emily Gregorio to pick up her phone, Tammy paced; she was her mother’s only child, and if what she said today devastated her like she feared it would, she doubted there would be another chance for them. This stupid fucking phone call was going to define their entire relationship, and the fear was enough to make Tammy grab the chair in front of her for support, nails scrabbling for purchase along the worn fiber.

No turning back now.

“Tammy?” Her mother’s voice, pragmatic as always, filled Gregorio’s ears and she flinched. Maybe she wasn’t as ready for this as she thought. “What’s wrong?”

It was a response that most other people would consider harsh or brusque, but in reality, Emily was just being realistic; Tammy almost never called unless she was backed into a corner and needed something. Her mother never called unless someone had died. It was a routine that Tammy couldn’t bring herself to feel bad for, considering her mother’s part in it and the lack of warmth between them. But their lack of contact made what Tammy had to say even harder to reveal.

“Mom, I have something to tell you,” Tammy breathed, trying to keep her voice as steady and strong as she could while the panic rattled in her ribcage. She could do this. She had to.

“Oh my god, are you pregnant?” Emily exclaimed, and Tammy heard the blatant delight in her voice at the thought. She shook her head, even though she knew her mother couldn’t see her. This was going to make it even harder to burst her bubble. When the silence stretched on a beat too long, she rolled her shoulders, shaking them out, trying to calm her nerves.

“Uh, no, Mom, I’m not pregnant,” Tammy replied, heaving a deep breath. “I, uh…I-I’m…”

“You’re what, Tammy? Spit it out.”

“I’m gay,” Tammy burst out, chest heaving with having the pressure of her secret released. She felt herself begin to tremble and leaned more of her weight onto the old chair in front of her. “I’m, uh, I’m a lesbian, Mom. I like women.”

The silence that followed her revelation felt like claws around Gregorio’s neck, choking and scratching into her windpipe. She waited with bated breath. Everything hinged on her mother’s reaction. Tammy’s hands were shaking with fear. Even if they weren’t close, she still loved her mother. She still wanted her to be a part of her life.

“Tammy, I…I’m not sure what to say.”

“Anything,” Gregorio begged, hating how desperate she sounded, but she couldn’t wait any longer. “Just say something, please.”

“Well, you know this isn’t what I wanted for you,” Emily stated, and Tammy knew it was true. Memories of her bisexual phase in high school rushed to the forefront of her mind, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe past the mental images of her mother’s disdain when she was fifteen and dating Zara Matthews. The coldness in her mother’s voice, then and now, felt like Tammy had swallowed a burning hot coal that was beginning to scorch her insides.

“How will you have children, Tammy?” Emily continued, obviously distraught. Tammy’s fingers tightened on the phone, and she tried to take a deep breath; get herself under control.

“I can adopt,” she replied calmly, “Or find a surrogate. Or…” She paused, hesitating. She was already six feet deep and buried with her mother, it seemed; why not put the nail in her own coffin? “...or maybe I won’t have kids.”

“Tammy,” her mother said reproachfully, “You have to have kids!”

“Says who?” Tammy retorted, her hands trembling where they still held the back of the living room chair for dear life. “I mean, look at me. I’m okay, aren’t I? I’m happy. I, I don’t have to have kids. Besides, I’m an NCIS agent. Who would want a mom who does what I do?”

“A child that understands the meaning of sacrifice,” Emily snapped. “Which you clearly don’t.”

“Mom, I…”

“No, Tammy, just don’t.” Gregorio fell silent, biting her lip hard to avoid letting out the tears that had gathered in her eyes sometime during the phone call. Her mother loved her, she was sure. But Tammy could never be who she wanted, either. And if she had learned one thing from her time in New Orleans with Ethan, before NCIS, it was that sometimes love wasn’t enough.

“Look, dear, I’m not going to say that this is the end of things.” Gregorio’s breath hitched, and she had to fight to keep her emotions in check. She knew that tone well enough to know what her mother was really saying, and it was the end of things. God, she knew her mother wouldn’t approve, but to know it and to have it confirmed were two very different feelings.

“But you should know how I feel about this,” Emily continued, ignorant to her daughter’s pain. “I don’t think it’s right. I don’t think it’s natural. I always thought you grew out of that phase you had in high school, especially after you married Ethan. Which, I know that didn’t work out, but one bad apple doesn’t mean the whole barrel is bad. I-I don’t know what you want from me here, Tammy. You are my daughter, and I love you. But I will not support this lifestyle. When you’re ready, you can come back home. We can work this out. But until then, don’t - don’t call. Don’t visit. Please. Spare us both. I’m sure you won’t feel this way forever, Tammy. When you change your mind, I’ll be here. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Mom - ”

“Tammy, please. Don’t make this any harder than it already is. Just-Just sort yourself out, okay? I’ll be here when you need me. I love you.” With that, the call dropped, and Gregorio sank to her knees behind the worn out chair, breathing hard and fast, on the verge of a fucking panic attack from the call. Emily was gone. She recognized the situation for what it was; her mother had given her an ultimatum. Become straight, or say goodbye to her and their home back in New York forever.

It wasn’t a choice at all.

With the sound of the dial tone in her ear, her mother’s final words before she hung up way too loud in her head, Tammy allowed herself to cry, the weight of the emotions she had struggled to hold back before escaping in full. She sobbed into her knees, her shoulders shaking. She couldn’t be something she wasn’t. She couldn’t change, even though there had been more than enough times that she wanted to. She couldn’t give her mother what she had asked for.

In all the ways that mattered, it was over.

She and her mother had never been close. The truth was that Tammy expected the call to end like this, but it was still more of a blow than she had ever expected to know that the woman who raised her would never accept her for who she was. Tammy felt lost, and cut open, like someone had twisted a knife in her and then left her to die on a street corner. She didn’t know what her next steps were, if there even were any, and more than anything, she felt vulnerable.

It was a feeling she wasn’t used to, between her secrecy about her private life and the walls she built around her heart, but it made her want to hide and protect her six from whatever was going to hurt her. But there was nothing to shield herself from, no imminent threat or dangerous gunman; just her own damage and that goddamn dial tone still humming in her ear, a reminder that she would never be able to call home again.

The thought of home sent a fresh wave of tears cascading down her cheeks, and Tammy finally ripped the cellphone from her ear, throwing it across hardwood until it crashed into the side of her refrigerator. She would regret that later, she was sure, but for now she didn’t care. She couldn’t. The only piece of herself that seemed to matter was in New York, probably opening a bottle of whiskey and no doubt planning to pray for her in church the next day.

Home was gone forever now, even if she hadn’t called it that in years. It was still the place where she was raised, and where she’d learned how to fight for herself in more ways than one. She loved the sprawling hills on their property, and the well where she had nearly drowned once as a child. She loved the fucking tire swing and the garden beds and the old barn where she used to go with the dogs when she needed to be alone. Their house and grounds were so beautiful that sometimes Gregorio hardly believed that she lived in New York growing up. All of it would become a memory now, and she would never be able to touch the wildflowers that grew along the fence line ever again. It shouldn’t have affected her so much, considering it had been years since she even wanted to go home, but the thought of losing it all forever was more than she could handle.

The tears, which hadn’t stopped or slowed in the slightest, were becoming overwhelming and almost nausea-inducing, so Gregorio took a deep breath, moving her hands roughly down her legs, then her calves, then her ankles, trying to ground herself and move away from the precipice of her breakdown. But instead of finding stability in her old brown Doc Martens, like she had hoped, her hand brushed a cold piece of metal, and it sent her heartbeat racing again.

She knew what it was, the feeling unmistakeable against her fingers. It was a sterling silver razor blade, years old at least, tucked into a fraying patch on her boots since November of 2018. She had played a dangerous game with it, allowing it so close; on one hand, it could become dislodged at work and she ran the risk of someone investigating her for psychological issues if they saw where it had been hiding. On the other hand, she could lose it in the field, and she would never have to worry about it, or remember the temptation, ever again.

Neither of those things had happened, apparently, and she knew from the feel of it against her fingers that, somehow, it hadn’t even been scuffed. It was the perfect deadly instrument, even after all these years. Gregorio’s hand trembled.

She hesitated for a second, but pulled the razor blade from the patch on her boot, turning it over and over in her palms like precious gold. A coil of longing hit her like a punch to the gut, and Gregorio tried to suck in a deep breath, wanted to put it back, wanted to throw it away and pretend it never existed, but she couldn’t bring herself to.

If this razor blade had somehow managed to survive three years working as a field agent for the FBI, and one as an NCIS agent, not to mention the countless parties and clubs she’d been to, it had to be a sign. Gregorio didn’t believe in fate, but maybe the gods that weren’t were trying to tell her something now.

It had been five years. It had been half of a lifetime. Part of Gregorio didn’t want to risk it, after fighting so hard to get clean in the first place, but the other, larger part of her that wanted for the quick pain of metal against her skin argued that because it had been so long, it wouldn’t matter now. A relapse wasn’t really a relapse if it only lasted a day, and if she got her act together right after. She could do this, and hide it, then throw it away the next day and no one would ever have to know.

“It’s not like last time,” Gregorio muttered to herself, trying to believe it. “I won’t let it get out of hand.”

She didn’t know if she could keep the promise to herself or not, but it didn’t matter. Her mother’s words were still burning like acid in her lungs, and she just wanted the pain to be replaced with something new, something better, until she was able to get ahold of herself. It was the best, most efficient option, and then she would stop. One cut, she told herself, and after that she would curl up in bed and watch Desperate Housewives or something. One cut, and she would be okay.

Tammy rolled up her sleeve, took a deep breath, and pressed the razor blade to her wrist.

The relief was immediate, almost as overwhelming and euphoric as a drug, and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks at the feeling. It didn’t take away her mother’s homophobia, or the way her abandonment made Tammy feel, but it replaced the worst of it with white-hot pain and the familiar sting of a fresh cut instead. Blood welled like storm clouds in the wound, and slid down her wrist until it began to drip onto her pants. Lazily, Tammy remembered she needed to do laundry and didn’t have another pair of work pants. Another, bigger part of her, however, couldn’t be bothered to care.

Instantly forgetting the one-cut promise, Tammy sliced her way through six pristine cuts before stopping to take a breath, her chest heaving with the relief of giving into the old addiction again. She didn’t remember much from three years ago, the last time she cut, but she could swear it had never felt this good before.

Looking down at her arm, a pageant of crimson lines sluggishly bleeding, Tammy felt the calm settle into her bones, numbness chasing away the pain. She exhaled hard, letting her head thump against the forgotten chair in front of her. She got what she needed. She should stop.

She didn’t.

It was close to midnight before she threw the razor blade down and stopped to admire her work. She wasn’t sure how much blood she would have to clean up, or how much she had lost, and she hadn’t eaten today either. She knew it wasn’t a good idea to just sit there after what she’d done, but her head was swimming, and she was so exhausted that even attempting to get up would have been too much for her. So, instead, Tammy rested her arms on the bloodstained slacks, and let her head loll against the back of the living chair. She had slept in worse places.

~ ~ ~

In the morning, Tammy’s alarm came blaring to life at 6am, startling her awake from where she was slumped over next to the chair. Her arms felt like they were glued to her pants, dried blood sticking to the fabric, and she could feel a telltale crustiness on the seat of her pants that meant, somehow, she had managed to sit in a puddle of blood. “God, make it stop,” she muttered, and struggled to get to her feet to turn off the fucking alarm. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this bad.

By the time she made it to the kitchen, where her phone was at, miraculously not dead but down to the last 5% of its battery, it was almost 6:30 and she was going to be late for work if she didn’t hustle.

Tammy made it to her bedroom with less difficulty, though she still felt lightheaded, and got to work peeling the blood-soaked slacks off and painfully removing her shirt, which had a few spots of blood on it from her careless cutting the night before. She searched through her closet as fast as she could for the most lightweight long-sleeved shirt she had, that was a dark enough color to mask the blood if her cuts opened up while she was at work. After that, she selected a pair of dark jeans, even though they were against the agency dress code, and headed to the bathroom to do what she could for her appearance.

To her dismay, her eyes were still a little bloodshot from last night, and her hair was a mess. She would need makeup to cover up the circles underneath her eyes, evidence of multiple nights of restless sleep in preparation for the phone call with her mother.

The thought of her mother made Tammy’s heart seize up, and she pressed on one of the new cuts, hissing at the sharp pain it brought. It was enough to snap her out of her head, at least, and she got to work applying makeup to cover up what she could of her turmoil. Finally, she was able to run a brush through her hair, grab her gun, badge, and car keys, and head out the door.

Just before walking into the Navy Yard, Tammy hesitated, and considered calling in sick. But as tempting as it was to go back to her apartment and stay in bed all day, that wasn’t a good idea; the NCIS team was like a big fucking family, and they were sure to stop by if they got word she wasn’t feeling well. Not only was her apartment a mess, but the pool of blood by the chair in the living room, as well as the razor blade that had caused all of this damage, was still out in the open for any prying eyes to see.

Still, Tammy knew it would be hard to keep what she had done from her teammates. She would have to be on her guard. They were perceptive, even if they weren’t trained profilers like her, and much worse, they knew her. It would take all of her skills at hiding and lying and pretending to fool them into believing she was fine.

The cuts pulled tight as the fabric of her shirt shifted, making each step and movement she made towards the office painful. She had learned how to hide the pain a long time ago, but a part of her wished she had bandaged the wounds before coming in today, instead of hiding the first-aid supplies in her bag in case of an emergency and hoping for the best. But Pride was already going to kill her for being late, and it would take another fifteen minutes at least to deal with the fallout of her habit. She didn’t want to come off any more suspicious than she already was.

Taking a deep breath, Gregorio etched a smile onto her face, and walked into the NCIS office like everything was fine, as always. Nothing is different today, she warned herself, trying to drill it into her brain. Nothing has changed.

“There ya are, Gregorio! Was startin’ to wonder if we was gonna have to send out a search party,” Chris greeted her with a smile, and Gregorio gave him one of her patented bitchfaces in return.

“I got caught in traffic,” she lied, and watched his face for any signs of disbelief as she made her way to her desk. She clocked the slight raise of his eyebrows, his posture lengthening, and reminded herself to adjust her tone when she was lying.

“Didn’t think there was hardly any traffic on Bourbon Street,” Chris commented, and Tammy turned to place her bag next to her desk and start up her computer. It was easier to lie to someone when she didn’t have to face them.

“There isn’t usually,” she replied, keeping her tone light and casual. “Guess today was my lucky day.”

“Guess so,” Chris responded, and Tammy turned around just in time to see him giving her one of his famous, milliwatt smiles. She grinned back, bumping his shoulder playfully on her way into the kitchen. One down, two to go.

By the time she caught up with Pride and Sonja, it was almost midday, and the hot, humid weather prompted a picnic invite from Pride to eat lunch at the bridge in town. Chris, Sonja, and the others all agreed, leaving Gregorio as the odd one out. She knew she couldn’t decline without offering an explanation, lest they become suspicious of her motives, but she couldn’t accept the invitation when she knew either Chris or Sonja would try to roll up her sleeves the second they arrived, either to tease her or out of care for her wellbeing. Refusing their help against potential heatstroke when it was summer in the middle of New Orleans was a one-way ticket to having her secret revealed.

“Tammy, you’re not going to lunch with us?” Percy pouted, her eyebrows drawn up in that Percy way, that said she was more concerned than disappointed, but was too proud to put voice to her feelings. “Come on, don’t you want to hang with the gang?”

“As much as I would love to ‘hang with the gang’,” Gregorio used air quotes and gave Sonja a playful smirk, “I have a prior obligation.”

“Oooh, someone’s got a hot date,” Chris said, walking into the kitchen with an ice chest for their drinks. “So who is it, Gregorio? Black-haired beauty? Feisty redhead? That’s my type.”

“Excuse you,” Percy retorted, raising her eyebrow in his direction.

“Pardon me,” Chris corrected, giving Sonja a fond smile, “That’s usually my type.”

“Better,” Sonja affirmed, before turning her attention to Gregorio once more. “But seriously, T, where you goin’ that you can’t come hang with us?”

“Well, Chris wasn’t exactly wrong,” Gregorio replied, lifting her coffee mug to her lips to take a sip so she could avoid having to look either of them in the eyes. “A certain mayor’s secretary asked me out the other day, and I can’t leave her hanging a second time.” Though it was a lie that they had a lunch date, it wasn’t a lie that she’d been asked out, so Gregorio didn’t feel as bad as she maybe should for using Amber as her scapegoat.

“With that one, you better not,” Chris replied, chuckling. “I’ve heard she’s got some high standards.”

“Of course she does,” Gregorio retorted without missing a beat. “She’s going on a date with me, isn’t she?”

Sonja and Chris both laughed at that, the latter ribbing her good-naturedly for a minute or two before they calmed down. She allowed her smirk to play on her lips, knowing she could pass it off as satisfaction at her joke instead of her lie. They weren’t suspicious of her anymore, not after she’d thrown them a bone. For now, she was safe.

~ ~ ~

Later that night, when the team was getting ready to wrap up and head home, Pride caught her eye, gesturing her into the kitchen. Tammy dropped her bag and took a deep breath, heading in to meet him. She could feel her heart skip a beat.

Of all of them, Pride was the most likely to figure out that something was wrong, even if he was the least likely to react with anything other than kind, calm patience. Still, the idea of her boss finding out her most guarded secret was more terrifying than she could fathom.

Without speaking or otherwise acknowledging Pride, Gregorio took a seat on the barstool across from him, crossed her arms, and waited. She could feel her heart pounding in her throat, but forced herself to be motionless and keep her expression blank, lest she give away the anxiety she was feeling.

“So, Gregorio,” Pride said, taking in her position and folding his arms across the top of the bar, “Want to tell me what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Gregorio replied defensively, before she could stop herself and try to temper her tone. “What makes you think something’s going on?”

Pride raised an eyebrow at her, unimpressed. “Well, for starters, you came in late today, said it was traffic when traffic is nonexistent on your street, you’re actin’ awful odd, and then you lied to Christopher and Sonja about who you were with for lunch today.”

Gregorio opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, Pride held up his hand and continued, “I have it on good authority that the mayor’s secretary didn’t leave her office all day.” He softened, giving her a worried look, and said, “Just want to know you’re okay, and if anything’s goin’ on that we can help with.”

“It’s nothing,” Gregorio sighed, letting her shoulders slump in defeat. There was no use pretending she was fine if Pride already knew something was up. She didn’t have to tell him everything, but maybe if she told him about her mom, at least, he’d leave her alone.

“Just a little upset from a phone call with my mother yesterday,” Gregorio admitted, picking at her nails to avoid meeting Pride’s eyes. “I came out to her.”

Pride nodded, his eyes filling with support and kindness for her, and moved to wipe down the kitchen counter, in an effort to give her space to talk as much as she wanted to. Gregorio knew the tactic, was familiar with it from teasing the truth out of LaSalle when he was being particularly stubborn. Though she was loathe to admit it, she appreciated it. “How did she take it?”

“Not well,” Tammy sighed, pressing her nail into the pad of her thumb to resist the urge to burst into tears again. She had already done enough crying in the past 24 hours. “She basically gave me an ultimatum; stop being gay, or stop coming home. Permanently.”

“Oh, Tammy,” Pride breathed, sympathy pouring out of him and into her. “I’m so sorry.” He reached across the bar to lay a hand on her shoulder, and against her will, Tammy leaned into the touch.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, closing her eyes to avoid letting Pride see how glossy they had become. “W-We were never really close.”

“Still, that’s gotta hurt,” Pride said, withdrawing just enough to allow her time to fight back the tears and open her eyes once more. “Parents’ rejection is…one of the worst things that can happen to a child. No matter how old they are.”

“Yeah,” Tammy breathed, the weight of her own exhaustion hitting her as she slumped on the barstool. She couldn’t remember the last time she had let something damage her like this. Who knew her mother’s decision would have such an impact on her? She sighed and tugged lightly on one of her sleeves, until it was down far enough on her arm to cover her fingers. Pride caught the movement, but said nothing. “To make matters worse, she tried to frame it like she loved me, and she was going to be there for me.” Tammy laughed bitterly, emotion swelling up in her throat. “She’s so convinced I’m going to change, Pride.”

“Not the way it works,” Pride said fondly, giving her a warm smile. His hand, still on her shoulder, was like a grounding wire, keeping her settled, and she felt like she was being comforted by the father she never had.

“Yeah,” Tammy said, again, and her voice wobbled on the last syllable. Under Pride’s kind, supportive words and gentle ministrations, she could feel the dam in her chest threatening to explode, and she slid sideways off of the barstool, grabbing for her coat and heading towards the door. She had to get out of here, before she lost it completely. “Anyway, I should go - ”

“Wait,” Pride called, and moved to follow her, grabbing her wrist to stop her from leaving. Without thinking, still trying to calm the tidal wave of emotion in her chest, Gregorio hissed in pain.

“Tammy,” Pride said slowly, releasing her wrist with some reluctance, “There something wrong with your arm?”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Tammy replied, giving him a quick, panicked smile. “Just bruised it on the countertop when I was getting ready for work this morning.”

“That so?” Pride asked, and he sounded suspicious enough to make Tammy’s heart skip a beat in fear. She curled her fingers around her sleeves protectively. “Mind if I take a look at it?”

“Don’t bother,” Gregorio replied, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. “I told you, Pride, it’s nothing.”

“Didn’t sound like nothing,” Pride replied, and he reached for her wrist again. Determined not to give anything away, Tammy kept her face purposefully blank, allowing him to hold her arm in his hand even as his fingers pressing against the cuts felt like a sharp knife against her skin. “Thing is, Tammy…” Pride moved to grasp her sleeve, and Gregorio’s entire body tensed, waiting for his next move. This was not happening.

“You haven’t worn long sleeves this dark, especially during summer, all year,” he continued, “and that first time we talked, up on the balcony in your hotel when you first came here – you wore a tank top, and I don’t think you thought about it then, but I noticed something the others didn’t get the chance to see.” He lifted his gaze to meet Gregorio’s eyes, and she knew, without having to ask what he meant, that she was done for.

Pride knows.

“I’ve seen the scars on your wrists, Tammy,” Pride said softly, “And I’ve never mentioned it, because it’s not my business and I don’t want you to think I’m judging you for it. But if your arm is hurt…after all you’ve been through in the past few days, you understand why I need to check, right?”

Tammy nodded tightly, trying not to cry, as Pride moved to roll up her sleeve. At the last second, just before he could grab the cuff of her shirt, she blurted out: “And what do you think you’ll find, if you check?”

“I think you and I both know the answer to that,” Pride responded, his voice as kind and understanding as ever. Tammy choked on a sob, losing the battle against her emotions, and pulled away from him, running her hands through her hair so hard that she was sure she’d left red, inflamed scratches on her scalp. She heaved a deep breath and choked on it, trying to hold in the breakdown that wanted to happen, fighting to remain in control. Pride couldn’t see her like this. No one could.

“Just - Just please don’t demote me,” Tammy begged, straightening up and gasping for breath, wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans. “D-Don’t put me on desk duty. I can still handle myself in the field, I promise I’m not a liability, Pride.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Pride said, and her heart sank. “For now, we need to get you taken care of.” He glanced at his watch, and muttered, “Loretta might still be here, I’d have to check the morgue.”

“No – please,” Gregorio pleaded, embarrassment creeping up to settle like fire on her cheeks. “No one else needs to know about this.”

“They do, Tammy,” Pride argued, raising his eyebrows at her. “They’re your teammates. Your family. They care about you. Of course they should know about this.”

“Please,” Tammy said, raising her arms to hug herself, trying to get some semblance of comfort in the least embarrassing or incriminating way possible.

“Look,” Pride said, gesturing for her to sit down across from him in the kitchen once more, taking a seat opposite her on the island, “I know you’re scared. You’re worried about what the others might think. But they love you, Tammy, and they want to help you. I do too.”

“What if they hate me?” Tammy breathed, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. She knew she looked like a wreck, pathetic even, but this was her worst nightmare come true and she couldn’t pretend anymore. “Pride, I’m weak.” She gestured haphazardly at her arms, at herself, and shook her head, avoiding his gaze by staring down the marble kitchen tile. “They’ll see me differently.”

“Maybe so,” Pride conceded, “but not in the way you think. They won’t consider you weak, Tammy. I don’t.” He reached out to lay his hand on her arm, comforting and grounding her with the touch. “You’re one of the strongest people I know, Gregorio.”

“Even now that you know I - ” Tammy gestured to her arms once more, at a loss for words. “ - Again?”

“Even now,” Pride confirmed, giving her a firm nod and a steady look that swore honesty. “Tammy, no one on this team will think any less of you for struggling with this.”

“Promise?” Tammy whispered, letting some of the vulnerability she was feeling slip into her voice as she asked the question.

“Promise,” Pride affirmed, and gave her arm a soft, gentle pat.

Gregorio nodded, her shoulders slumping in relief as some of the tension was alleviated. “Do you have to tell them tonight?”

“No, not tonight,” Pride responded. “But soon.”

“I understand.” Gregorio looked away, the fear thundering back to life in her chest. For an instant, under Pride’s reassuring words, it had disappeared.

“It’s gonna be okay, Gregorio,” Pride promised her, moving from the opposite side of the bar to wrap her in a tight hug. “The team’ll take care of you.”

“Shouldn’t have to,” Gregorio protested weakly, but Pride shushed her with a hand in her hair, stroking gently.

“We want to,” he said, and Gregorio was struck with how much she wished he could have been her real dad. Maybe her future would’ve turned out better if he was. “This is somethin’ that everyone is more ‘n willin’ to help you with. We’re gonna get it taken care of. Got your back, Tammy, not just for work.”

“Thanks, Pride,” Gregorio whispered, too emotional to express her gratitude any further. She was sure Pride understood. In his arms, trembling, Gregorio could admit that maybe what she had really needed was the support and acceptance of her loved ones. Maybe her mother would never love her the way she was, but she had an entire family here in New Orleans that did.

Maybe that was what mattered.

And if, the next day, when Loretta called her down to the morgue and told Gregorio about her mother’s issues with self-harm while she bandaged the fresh cuts on Tammy’s arms, she felt a small piece of her heart begin to heal, she didn’t mention it. And if, when Sebastian gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek and offered to call her and ramble about whatever came to mind when she was having urges, she started to tear up, well, no one could prove it (she had threatened Sebastian with removing his Power Rangers collection from the lab if he told anyone). And if, when Chris said nothing but drew her into the tightest hug she could ever remember receiving, and Percy showed up at her house without warning to sit on the couch with her and watch basketball, she began to realise this was all the family she needed, she knew she could blame Pride for most of it.

Getting clean again, and resisting the urge to take a blade to her arms whenever she felt like her world was falling apart, was a fight that took months, and she did end up on desk duty for some of it, but despite the silence that stretched between her and her mother, she found that the most important thing was the family that she had right here.

Maybe she didn’t need what used to be her home when she had a better one here in New Orleans.

[cinnikiroll]

check out this lovely story by bullet-prooflove ❤️

they always write very good fics, you should check them out ^~^ i promise anyone who sees this (which might not be anybody but such is life) you will not be disappointed!

From the Don't Forget Me prompt list. 7 - "Stayin' up late, playin' our song" for Dwayne Pride? Please.

Tagging: @kmc1989 @mandy426 @keyweegirlie @luckyladycreator2@dizzybee03

Another Sunny Day In Georgia Series:

Just Another Sunny Day In Georgia - You and Dwayne have a code phrase.

Rain - Dwayne thinks of you everytime it rains.

Dance With Me -Dwayne's happily surpised when you return home.

Atlanta - Dwayne realises something happened in Atlanta.

Lullabies - Dwayne sings you to sleep.

When Dwayne misses you he puts your Norah Jones LP on the record player. He allows the album to play itself out while as he busies himself with paperwork because he doesn’t sleep well on the nights you aren’t here, especially since Georgia.

He worries that you’re tired, distracted, that it’ll affect your judgment in the field. The problem is he isn’t your superior anymore, he can’t pull you from the roster and you don’t have a team he trusts to back you up, to keep an eye on you. When he does try to raise the topic with you, you brush it off because you don’t see a issue but Dwayne, he knows the fall is coming, it’s just a matter of when.

Love Dwayne? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[dxivi]

okay

So who do I write for you ask? Very good question. I'll throw in some fandoms and put in who I'll write for. (Ill forget to put fandoms in without a doubt so someone remind me of fandoms)

Also I write all three. M!reader, GN!reader and F!reader. (Yes, that includes trans!reader as well)

Fandoms

Criminal minds

Aaron Hotchner

David Rossi

Spencer Reid (That's still a bit doubtful but ill give it a try)

2. COD MWII

Simon "Ghost" Riley

John "Soap" MacTavish

John Price

I will only do Gaz and any of the others when in combo with the above.

3. NCIS/NCIS:LA/NCIS: New Orleans

No one probably knows of this fandom but here;

Leroy Jethro Gibbs

Ziva David

Anthony Dinozzo

Abby Scuito

Mayyyybee Timothy Mcgee but doubtful

Dwayne Pride

Tammy Gregorio

Christopher LaSalle (i haven't watched ncis new orleans in a hot minute so shit might be very ooc)

Sam Hanna

Kensi Blye

G. Callen

Marty Deeks

4. Hawaii Five 0

Even less know abt this one but;

Steven J. Mcgarrett

Daniel Williams

Kono Kalakaua

Chin Ho Kelly

Catherine Rollins (if you dare ask me to paint her in a good light go screw yourself, she fucked up Steve so long. I will not alter her so shes suddenly amazing and heroic.)

5. Bones

Dr. Temperance Brennan aka Bones

Seeley Booth

James Aubrey

6. Top Gun/Top Gun: Maverick

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

Nick "Goose" Bradshaw (his death + fanfics with mav absolutely ended me- I still didnt finish the most hurtful one and its been over a year now)

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Possibly: Phoenix

7. The Mentalist

Patrick Jane

8. Sherlock (bbc & movies)

Sherlock Holmes

James Moriarty

John Watson

9. Supernatural

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester (as a side character)

Crowley

10. The Slasher Fandom

Michael Myers

Jason Voorhees

Bubba Sawyer

Thomas Hewitt

Freddy Krueger

Stu Matcher

Vincent Sinclair

(Probably more but I don't remember of the top of my head)

11. Marvel Universe

Tony Stark

Bucky Barnes

Natasha Romanoff

Peter Parker (no smut, kids a fucking minor)

T'Challa (as a loving father type figure but it might be very ooc)

Clint Barton

Honerable mentions for movies/shows/books I don't have enough braincells for to put in but will possibly write for:

The Da Vinci Code

Angels and Demons

Inferno

Dante's Peak

CSI: Miami

CSI: Las Vegas

CSI: NY

Fbi: International

Fbi

THE FUGITIVE (1993)

Law & Order: SVU

Bull (like the show, Dr. Bull)

Jason Bourne

House M.D.

The fallen triology (Olympus has fallen, London has fallen, Angel has fallen)

The Matrix

Rush Hour (i love them <3)

Michael Vey (book)

PJO fandom

HOO fandom

Without a trace

Castle

Elementary

Hannibal (really depends, i only know fanfic of them)

Winx Club (not fate you heathen)

And uhhh- thats it i think? This probably isnt everything because im in so many fandoms of which I didnt watch/see anything besides the fandom itself but yeah- (many of which are on this list, why'd you think dr who isnt here)

[navalcriminalimagines]

Can I pretty please request a Dwayne Pride x Fem!Reader fic where they’re having a lazy day and stay in bed with prompt #29.....the ones you found on Wattpad

TY 🖤❤️🖤❤️

29. “I know I’ve kissed you like, ten time, but just like another ten, please.”

Lazy day

When you learned why was Dwayne nicknamed ‘King’, you knew you weren’t dating a regular man.

But nothing prepared you for what it would be like. Him being a driven federal agent who loved his city more than reason. Dwayne’s ultimate wish was for New Orleans to be a safe place for its inhabitants and tourists, no matter that he knew it was impossible. He overworked himself and took uncontrollable risks everyday. Pretty much like when he got shot twice and almost died.

You were seriously getting worried about him. He wasn’t taking time for himself, always 100% into work even when he was at home. You even talked to his team and realized that they were worried too, but Dwayne was a stubborn man.

So you came up with a plan to force him to take a day off. You knew it was a risk. He wasn’t the kind of man to get mad at you - especially when your intention was to take care of him - but he could get frustrated with your plan. It could make things worse, but you had to do it for his own sake, for his health - physical and mental.

You planned everything with Tammy one night as the team was having a drink at the Tru Tone. And two days later, it was on.

You woke up before he did, and turned off his alarm. He was deep in his sleep, he didn’t even hear you getting out of bed. Tammy was waiting outside. You opened the door, gave her the keys and she locked the both of you inside. “Let him sleep as much as possible!” She winked and left.

You joined him in bed, and spooned him. For a moment you were afraid he would wake up but all he did was sighing before softly snoring again. With a smile on your face, you fell back asleep.

A little more than an hour later, you felt him rushing out of bed. You opened your eyes and watched him getting dress in a hurry. “I’m late, darling. And so are you, actually.”

He stared, puzzled that you were rushing like he was. “Drop the jeans and come back to bed.” You told him. “You can’t go anywhere anyway.” He looked completely confused now. “We’re locked in. Lazy day for the both of us.”

“Sweetheart, I can’t—“

You stood up on the bed, reaching for his shoulders. “I know I’m taking a risk here. But you need to rest, D. And since I know you won’t do it on your own, I’m forcing your hand.”

“Did you—hide the keys or something?”

“Would’ve been too easy. Someone locked us in. Only way out? Jumping from the balcony.” You watched him taking a look into the living area, where you could reach the balcony. “Tell me you’re not thinking about jumping your way out.”

“It’s not that high.”

“Dwayne Cassius Pride! Seriously!”

He sighed with a small smile. He grabbed you by your hips and pressed your body against his. “What are we supposed to do today then?”

Smiling, you kissed his jawline, cheeks and nose. “Absolutely nothing.” You pressed your lips against his. “Laying in bed, sleeping, eating properly, having sex.”

With his forehead against yours, he exhaled intensely, “that does sound really nice.” He held you tighter.

“So, you’re not upset?” You kissed his neck.

“I am—infuriated. But I’ll take it out on my team later. ‘Cause I guess they are in on it.”

It was mostly Tammy but you weren’t throwing her under the bus. So you just hummed in response, kissing him more intensely until he fell back into bed with you, his strong body covering yours.

He made love to you. It was slow and sweet and very Dwayne Pride. With your schedules, and how worked up he’s been for a year, you weren’t the kind of couple to have sex everyday. But you didn’t mind because when you finally had the opportunity to be intimate, Dwayne was fully there with you. You never admitted it directly to him but he was the best sex you’ve ever had.

As you were laying in bed, you told him the ground rules for the day. You told him that everytime he talked about work, and even think about it - admitting that you can see it on his face when he does - he’d lose ten minutes of his time with you.

“What?” He chuckled, holding you close to his chest.

“You heard me. If there’s a hint of shoptalk today, I’m depriving you of me for ten long minutes.”

He kissed your temple, agreeing to the rule.

You cooked him breakfast - that you ate in bed - and around noon, Dwayne was fast asleep. Laying shirtless on bed, the sheets only covering his legs, you were softly caressing all over his torso when your fingers focused around the bullet wound right above his heart. “If I’m not allowed to talk or think about work, you’re not allowed to think about this.” He said.

You leaned down to kiss his shoulder, close to the wound. “Just one thing.” He opened his eyes to look at you. “That was when I knew—that you were the love of my life, Dwayne.” You confessed, “I was losing you and I couldn’t help but to think that I’ve never told you just how much I love you.”

Dwayne smiled, squeezing your hand in his. “I knew it, darling. You never had to say it. You and Laurel were the reasons why I fought hard.”

You curled up against him, resting your head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat and you both took a little nap.

He failed to leave work out of the door. He checked his phone late in the afternoon, thinking that you were in the bathroom.

“Checking your phone is the ultimate offense, Pride. The ten minutes turned into thirty.”

“Aw come on sweetheart!” He whined, “Don’t do this to me.”

He tried to reach for you but you took a step back. You grabbed his phone to set the alarm thirty minutes later. “I’ll see you in half an hour. Nap on the couch.”

He tried to reach for you again but you rushed into the bedroom and locked yourself in the bedroom. You waited for the alarm to go off, and it was thirty very long minutes, knowing that he was just right there.

When you unlocked the door, Dwayne was standing there. Almost like he stood behind the door, waiting for the minutes to be over. He grabbed you in a second and threw the both of you onto the bed. His mouth was all over you. “Don’t ever deprived me of you again.” He groaned.

“You knew the rules.” You chuckled.

He held you and kissed you like he hadn’t seen you in months. Laughing, you tried to get out of his hold but he wasn’t letting you go. “I need to go the bathroom.”

“You had thirty minutes to go.”

“I didn’t want to and now I do.”

With a grown, he let you go. But as soon as you came back, he was all over you again, “I know I’ve kissed you like, ten times, but just like another ten, please.”

You pushed him to make him roll over. You straddled him, and you were the one kissing him. Neither of you had much clothes on, but what you had quickly ended on the floor.

“You wanna know when I knew I won’t be able to love anyone else no matter what happens between us?” He asked, between two kisses.

“When?”

“Today.”

[themadhalewrites]

Mistletoe

Fandom: NCIS: New Orleans

Character/s Included: Dwayne Pride, Christopher LaSalle and Reader

Word Count: 149

Walking into the office was nothing seemed abnormal, it was partly decorated for Christmas with a few coloured fairy lights hung across the ceiling.

Doing what you usually did which was walk into the kitchen to make a new pot of coffee but walking in you collided with Pride on accident.

“Sorry Pride” You mumbled and started moving away from him but was stopped by two hands on your shoulders which pushed you into Pride again.

“No skipping on tradition Y/N” you heard LaSalle say so you looked up.

“Who put the mistletoe above the kitchen door?” Pride asked before he glared at LaSalle.

LaSalle acted like he did nothing, “I wonder who put that up there, now hurry up with tradition we would all like to get in for coffee.”

You just quickly pecked Pride’s lips before pushing past him to the outdoor area out from the kitchen.

[quanticowrites]

Tonight’s the night pt. 1 (Dwayne Pride x Reader)

•• This started out just being a prompt request, but I got this done and the prompt’s not even in it yet so hooray a two parter...maybe three haven't decided yet, ❤️ Enjoy! ••

You walked into the office that morning with a smile spread from ear to ear across your face. It was (y/b/d), and you had a glorious night planned. You were gonna bar hop across the city and had the Trutone planned as your last stop, because hopefully, after a lot of liquid courage, you’d finally ask Dwayne out. However, first, you had to get through one more day or work. You walked toward the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee, exchanging greeting with everyone as you walked past. You stopped short and turned back to see everyone watching you. “Okay….” You drawled out. “Is there something on my shirt?” ”No, just making sure you didn’t walk into Christopher’s trap, I almost had the pleasure earlier,” Tammy explained, her finger pointing upwards. "I started looking up at doorways after my first week of working here." “Damn it, Gregorio, you’re no fun. I just wanted to give the birthday (girl/boy/pronoun) a present.” You looked up at the doorway to find a bucket tied to a string, that, of course, led all the way back to Chris’s desk. “Very mature.” You mused. Chris let go of the string and a shit ton of confetti fell onto the floor. “Hey, at least it wasn’t a fake rat.” “I was just trying to make ya feel more at home. Don’t they got some pretty big ones up in New York?” You rolled your eyes at their banter as you finally got into the kitchen and to the pot of coffee. Which was skeptically full...and had your favorite mug sitting beside it. When you heard a chuckle from across the kitchen it was fairly obvious who’d done it. “Dwayne.” You turned toward him after you poured yourself a cup. “Mornin’ birthday (boy/girl/pronoun). Hope ya like your fresh coffee.” You took a tentative sip and moaned. “It’s always the best when it’s the first cup.” He chuckled. “Come on now, it’s not better even if I made it for ya?” “Well, maybe a little.” “Any big plans for tonight?” You nodded, a bit of blush was more than plausible on your face. Your mind had abruptly shifted to the image of pushing Dwayne against the counter and caressing him until both your lips were numb. “Just a little bar hopping. You know.” You tried to sound as passive as possible. You didn’t want to blow the whistle on the office rumor that you had a crush on him. You wanted to address it in a more appropriate setting, and a touch of fermented liquor wouldn't hurt either. “Sounds fun. You should stop by the Trutone on your route. We’ve got a live band tonight. I might be performing a little piano.” “I just might-” “King! Director Vance on the telecom!” Chris darted his head in through the door, vanishing as quickly as he’d appeared. “Business calls I reckon.” He sighed. “Let’s hope it’s nothing significant. Wouldn’t wanna ruin your fun night out.” “Yeah..” That wouldn’t be all it would ruin.

Tag list: @stanathanxoox , @nikkiwierden , @malindacath , @havlindzk , @countrygal17a , @memyselfandmaddox , @octobersmog , @mizzezm , @diaryofafan17 , @emmitheacefangirl , @a-sad-excuse-of-everything , @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy

[wanna-see-my-lease]

16 + Dwayne Pride.

My Treat

Masterlist

Show: NCIS NOLA

Summary:  Why is it when you are alone the things you need are always just out of reach?

Pairing:  Dwayne Pride x reader

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count:  343

Reading Time: 1+ minutes-ish

Request: Prompt list requests are closed - new prompt list coming soon.

Prompt: #16. “I’ve got you.” 

A/N:  ♥ Almost caught up on the prompts. Have a few imagines to do as well ♥ Feedback is always  welcomed and requests are open (no prompts), and you can be added to the tag list XoX

Tags: @emilyymichelle @lucifersagents @ncisfanficsandmore @spaceemonkeyyxd @of-badges-and-guns  @criminal-navy-writings 

Looking around the kitchen for the spices you wanted, you huffed in frustration. You had planned on surprising Pride with dinner tonight, but for some reason he always kept the spices you like to use up high on the shelf. Spotting them you looked around for a way to give you leverage to reach the desired items. Spotting the small step stool, you went over and pulled it to the shelf. Knowing that the step stool was anything but reliable, you elected to use it.

As you placed your weight on the rickety stool, you reached up to try and grab the spices you wanted. Unfortunately it still wasn’t enough of a lift, as the spices were just out of reach. With a frustrating sigh, you placed your knee on the lip of the counter and leaned a little further up to grab the spice.

Soon as you had the spice within your grip, you felt the wood start to crack underneath your one foot. It was like slow motion as your center of gravity started to shift causing you too loose your balance. As you started to tumble backwards, you felt a pair of strong hands grip your waist to balance you.

“I’ve got ya.” Pride said as he helped you down from the perch you had once stood on.

Once your feet were on the ground, you looked up into his eyes, “Thanks.” You gave a soft laugh.

“What do ya think you were doin’ up there?” Pride asked, as you moved from his hands to the stove to put the right amount of spice into the concoction you were making.

“After this,” You answered holding up the spice. “I was gonna surprise you with dinner.” You answered while stirring the pot.

Pride came up and wrapped his arms around your midsection while looking over your shoulder. “Ya don’t have to do that,” He said and gave you a kiss on the cheek. “I woulda made us dinner.”

You turned your head and gave him a chase kiss, “My treat, handsome.”

[cinnikiroll]

you'll always be mine (dwayne pride x female reader)

Summary: You thought you'd escaped your relationship with Douglas Hamilton. But then he shows up when you least expect it.

If you like this fic, please do check out my other fanfics on AO3 under the username cinnikiroll. Here is a link to my profile, where I have fics from other shows for your viewing pleasure!

This fic is a request. If you want to request a fic, you may do so in my asks, my inbox, or in the comments on an AO3 fic! I don't guarantee I will write your request but I will try to!

The sweet scent of flowers wafted through the air as you cursorily scanned the wedding venue for what felt like the hundredth time.

You couldn't believe you were getting married to the Dwayne Pride, beloved by all of New Orleans. Any woman worth her salt would die to even be looked at by Dwayne, and here you were, the most unworthy human being in the city, marrying him.

After your past relationship, which was more than a little painful and traumatic, you didn't think you deserved anything good. It had taken a long while and a great deal of patience on both your end and Dwayne's to heal your wounds, and even then, there were still scars left behind. But he was a kind and loving man, and he accepted you for who you were, scars and all.

Hearing a wedding march being hummed behind you, you turned around to see Loretta Wade, her arms full of boxes doubtlessly containing decorations. When the two of you made eye contact, she placed the boxes down and rushed to hug her. Loretta gave the best hugs- warm, motherly, and full of reassuring strength. You could use all the strength you could get at this point.

"Anxious about tomorrow?"

She asked, her expert doctor's eye noticing the way you were shifting on your feet and playing with the hem of your shirt.

At first, you didn't want to admit how you felt. Why would you be feeling anxious on the day before the biggest event of your life? You were supposed to be happy, not sick to your stomach and going through scenarios in your head where everything went wrong.

But then you saw the genuine concern in Loretta's gentle dark eyes, and you sighed deeply, knowing that lying would be pointless.

"I don't know why!"

You exclaimed, the anger you were directing at yourself evident in your tone.

Loretta frowned at your sudden change in tone and placed her hands on your shoulders, directing you to look her straight in her eyes and never look away. She was about to lecture you, you knew it.

With yet another sigh, you made eye contact with her, and prepared to take your medicine.

"My dear. Being anxious before a wedding is normal. I know I sure was before my own!"

She laughed, but it was a bitter laugh, full of pain.

You knew that her ex husband had not been a good partner, what with his constantly controlling and possessive behavior. It killed you to know that such a sweet woman had to experience such pain. She didn't deserve it.

Nobody deserves to be in a relationship like that, you thought to yourself, then begrudgingly added, not even you.

Your ex boyfriend, Douglas Hamilton- yes, that Douglas Hamilton, the mayor of New Orleans- hadn't been physically abusive in any way, nor did he ever verbally berate you (at least, not typically). But he was a busy man, and all the work he had to do left his nerves constantly frayed. It was a constant struggle, coming home and not knowing whether he'd be in a good mood and snuggle with you or be in a foul mood and throw things around like an Olympic discus thrower.

Whenever you approached him and tried to address his volatile emotions, he would get upset and constantly tell you that "it's normal" and that you were "just overreacting". He constantly assured you that he'd never physically hurt you, that he loved you, but living in the same house with someone like him ended up doing irreversible damage to your psyche.

So you left him.

It was a messy breakup, to say the least. Douglas had screamed, thrown a glass at you and cut your forehead, and then proceeded to cry and beg you to come back to him, insisting that you didn't know and could never know how much he loved you.

You had wound up kicked out of the home you'd lived in for years- you had lived in Douglas' home, but when you broke up, he had kicked you out without even letting you gather your belongings first- and alone on a late night in New Orleans.

Terrified and injured, you ran to the first public place you found, which happened to be the Trutone. Dwayne had been closing up, but when he saw you, he gladly ushered you in, treated your wounds, and, after hearing your story, offered you a home in the spare room of his apartment.

At first, you didn't trust him at all, not wanting to get into yet another toxic relationship. But as time went on, you learned that Dwayne was nothing more than a teddy bear with a professional facade. He would gladly listen to your pain anytime, and always promised to be there for you when you needed him, and he was.

Years passed, and you never saw Douglas again. His behavior and the way he manipulated you would forever scar you, but with Dwayne as your caretaker and lover, you had nothing to fear. Even if your crazy ex boyfriend did come by to pester you- which you doubted very highly judging by the fact that years had passed with no sign of him- you were safe and secure in the knowledge that you would never be hurt by him as long as your boyfriend was there to protect you.

After five painstakingly long, excruciatingly beautiful years of dating, Dwayne proposed to you. The proposal was a simple affair, as befitting his personality, but you couldn't have asked for more. You accepted, obviously, and that had led you to this situation...

"Dear? What is it?"

Loretta's sweet voice was a dam in the flowing river of your memories, stopping them short and bringing you back to the current time.

"Just... remembering the past, Loretta."

Your tone was melancholy, and she noticed that immediately. Knowing you were most likely remembering your previous relationship with Douglas, she pulled you into her arms again and held you tightly, stroking your back with her strong hands. The repetitive smooth motions of her callused palms, felt through the thin material of your shirt, brought you comfort, and you smiled up at the medical examiner, who winked cheekily in response.

Eventually, after what felt like a painfully short duration of time, Loretta let go of you and picked up her boxes again, busying herself with putting the final touches on the wedding venue's decorations.

As you turned to go, she called out to you one last time.

"My dear?"

You perked up, and turned to look at her.

"Yes, Loretta?"

"Nothing is going to go wrong. Try to relax and be excited."

--------------------------------------------------------------

You almost believed Loretta's previous statement. After all, you were almost through your vows, and besides Percy and LaSalle getting into a fight in the back row over something that was most likely pointless, no major crises had occurred.

Dwayne was an Adonis in his simple black tuxedo. His gray-blue eyes sparkled enticingly in the bright natural light of the room, like a cloudy sky. You wanted to kiss him so badly, but you had to refrain from carrying out on your urge until the minister allowed the two of you to kiss.

"If anyone here can think of any reason why these two people before me should not be joined together in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace."

At first, there was silence, as expected. The minister opened his mouth to continue, and a voice called out from the back of the aisle.

"I'd like to give my reason!"

Hearing that voice sent chills up your spine, and you unwittingly leaned closer to Dwayne, needing his touch, his strength, to anchor you.

The whole hall fell silent, all eyes on the protestor, who happened to be your ex boyfriend, Douglas Hamilton.

"Speak, sir."

The minister instructed, looking as shocked as everyone else at the sudden incursion.

Douglas took a deep breath and tousled his hair before speaking. Every last word he said made you tremble, and you yearned, more than anything, for Dwayne's comforting arms to be around you in that moment. But he was distracted, eyeing Douglas with hatred so thick and palpable you could reach out and touch it.

"I'll put it to you plain and simple, Minister. This woman does not, and never will, belong to Dwayne Pride."

You noticed Dwayne's hands clench into fists at that, the anger in his body visible through the whites of his knuckles showing.

Looking up at him with tears in your eyes, you silently begged him to say something, anything, to end this nightmare. But he didn't. He just stood and silently listened to Douglas' barrage of lies.

"She was mine for several years. We had a pleasant relationship, an amicable one, full of mutual respect and other... good Christian values."

You scoffed at that and muttered, "Bullshit," in a low voice, not wanting the minister to hear your sacreligious language. Dwayne met your eyes and nodded, evidently agreeing with that expletive.

"But then, one night, she just left me. I didn't know where she was, I searched for years, worried sick!"

Silently, tearfully, you pleaded with Dwayne not to believe his lies, to keep on loving you. He still hadn't acknowledged you at all, minus that slight head nod earlier, and it was making you sick with anxiety. If only he could just hold your hand, pat it, anything to show that he still cared!

"You and I both know that's a lie, Hamilton!"

Your pleas were answered, as Dwayne began to walk towards Douglas with his fists raised in a combative gesture. Loretta, LaSalle, Percy, and Gregorio all leapt up from their seats, ready for anything. You noticed the silhouette of a pistol in LaSalle's pocket, and silently prayed it didn't come to that.

The minister, who was now very confused and wanted desperately to avoid all out conflict, called out in a deep, resonant voice, hands raised to the sky as if he was praying during mass.

"Is there anyone here who can corroborate Mr. Hamilton's claims?"

"Mayor Hamilton," Douglas hissed angrily, always a stickler for making everyone know his rank and power.

"All men are equal in God's eyes, sir."

The minister retorted, evidently not a fan of Douglas' combative personality.

Nobody responded to the minister's previous question, leaving Douglas the lone supporter of his protest. One voice alone, raised in protest, led to nothing, and the NCIS team ended up escorting him out despite his protests and threats of violence against them.

While Douglas was being led away, you looked up at Dwayne, who still was visibly shaken and angry.

"Love?"

You whispered in a shaky voice, not expecting a response but deeply desiring one.

"Darlin'... you're safe. He's gone. We're safe."

His voice was gruff with emotion, and as he pulled you into his strong arms, you felt as if the world was melting around you, leaving the two of you alone together while everyone else disappeared.

"Everything he said-"

You said in a voice choked by tears.

"Shhh... I know. They're all lies. I know..."

"I'm sorry, I-"

"You may now kiss the bride."

The minister's consent shocked both you and Dwayne into silence, and the whole audience stared at the two of you as you stood in the middle of the aisle, looking up at one another with burning passion in your eyes.

"Dwayne-"

"I love you."

Dwayne locked his lips with yours, immediately seeking entrance with his tongue. You opened your mouth slightly, and his tongue entered, moving about and spreading the taste of bourbon and beignets all through your mouth.

You groaned softly, feeling your body grow pliant against his strong muscular chest. As you melted into a puddle in his arms, he finally decided to remove his lips from yours, and the audience cheered and clapped.

"You'll always be mine."

He murmured in a low, sultry voice, his lips lingering near yours again.

A soft moan was all you could manage as his lips connected to yours again, and the euphoria you felt repeated once again.

[cornishkat]

Masterlist

NCIS

Leroy Jethro Gibbs

Can’t Go On Like This - Chapter One

Can’t Go On Like This - Chapter Two

Can’t Go On Like This - Chapter Three

Can’t Go On Like This - Chapter Four

Can’t Go On Like This - Chapter 5

Respect and Understanding - Chapter 1

Respect & Understanding - Chapter 2

Respect & Understanding- Chapter 3

Respect & Understanding - Chapter 4

Respect & Understanding - Chapter 5

Respect & Understanding - Chapter 6

Blood & Tears - Oneshot

Help Me Make It Through The Night - Oneshot

Could Get Used to This - Oneshot

Mistletoe - Gibbs Oneshot

Christmas - Gibbs Oneshot

NCIS NOLA

Dwayne Pride

How Could you Think I Wouldn’t

Mistletoe - Pride Oneshot

Criminal Minds

Aaron Hotchner

Just a Dance - Chapter 1

Just a Dance - Chapter 2

Heaven & Earth - Chapter 1

Heaven & Earth - Chapter 2

Heaven & Earth - Chapter 3

Heaven & Earth - Chapter 4

Mistletoe - Hotchner Oneshot

Bond

Gareth Mallory

Just a Scratch - Chapter 1

Just a Scratch - Chapter 2

Just a Scratch - Chapter 3

Protecting M - Chapter 1

Protecting M - Chapter 2

Protecting M - Chapter 3

Protecting M - Chapter 4

Protecting M - Chapter 5

Are you Jealous? - Oneshot

Cormoran Strike

Right Here - One Shot

Sierra Six (Court Gentry)

Safe Haven - One Shot

Top Gun:Maverick

Jake”Hangman”Seresin

Just Friends - Chapter 1

Just Friends - Chapter 2

Just Friends - Chapter 3

Just Friends - Chapter 4

Just Friends - Chapter 5

Just Friends - Chapter 6

All I want for Christmas is You - One Shot

Midnight Kiss - One Shot

Robert “Bob” Floyd 

Everlong - Part 1

Everlong - Part 2

[moonlight-breeze-44]

Shelter From the Storm

Shelter from the Storm

Gregorio comes out to her mother. It doesn't go well. Pride is there to remind her in the aftermath, after Tammy falls into old, bad habits, that she has a team-family here in New Orleans that will always love her for exactly who she is.

Pairings: None main; background PerSalle

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Homophobia, disowning, mental health issues/self-esteem issues, self-harm, graphic descriptions of violence/self-harm, blood & injury

Read on AO3

Gregorio knew it was only a matter of time before she had to make the phone call, but it didn’t mean getting the courage to dial her mother’s number and press call was any easier.

Now, alone in her apartment, she wished her heart would stop pounding into the beginnings of a panic attack and let her fucking breathe. Her hands were so clammy with sweat that she half-expected the phone to slip and fall to the ground. She wondered if maybe it would be better if it did. It would mean she didn’t have to face this.

Gregorio loved her mom, but that was half of the problem. Her mother could be old-fashioned, and Gregorio had been raised in the countryside of New York with two dogs, an old cat, and no father to speak of. In some ways, Gregorio was a lot more like LaSalle than she wanted to admit.

As she waited for Emily Gregorio to pick up her phone, Tammy paced; she was her mother’s only child, and if what she said today devastated her like she feared it would, she doubted there would be another chance for them. This stupid fucking phone call was going to define their entire relationship, and the fear was enough to make Tammy grab the chair in front of her for support, nails scrabbling for purchase along the worn fiber.

No turning back now.

“Tammy?” Her mother’s voice, pragmatic as always, filled Gregorio’s ears and she flinched. Maybe she wasn’t as ready for this as she thought. “What’s wrong?”

It was a response that most other people would consider harsh or brusque, but in reality, Emily was just being realistic; Tammy almost never called unless she was backed into a corner and needed something. Her mother never called unless someone had died. It was a routine that Tammy couldn’t bring herself to feel bad for, considering her mother’s part in it and the lack of warmth between them. But their lack of contact made what Tammy had to say even harder to reveal.

“Mom, I have something to tell you,” Tammy breathed, trying to keep her voice as steady and strong as she could while the panic rattled in her ribcage. She could do this. She had to.

“Oh my god, are you pregnant?” Emily exclaimed, and Tammy heard the blatant delight in her voice at the thought. She shook her head, even though she knew her mother couldn’t see her. This was going to make it even harder to burst her bubble. When the silence stretched on a beat too long, she rolled her shoulders, shaking them out, trying to calm her nerves.

“Uh, no, Mom, I’m not pregnant,” Tammy replied, heaving a deep breath. “I, uh…I-I’m…”

“You’re what, Tammy? Spit it out.”

“I’m gay,” Tammy burst out, chest heaving with having the pressure of her secret released. She felt herself begin to tremble and leaned more of her weight onto the old chair in front of her. “I’m, uh, I’m a lesbian, Mom. I like women.”

The silence that followed her revelation felt like claws around Gregorio’s neck, choking and scratching into her windpipe. She waited with bated breath. Everything hinged on her mother’s reaction. Tammy’s hands were shaking with fear. Even if they weren’t close, she still loved her mother. She still wanted her to be a part of her life.

“Tammy, I…I’m not sure what to say.”

“Anything,” Gregorio begged, hating how desperate she sounded, but she couldn’t wait any longer. “Just say something, please.”

“Well, you know this isn’t what I wanted for you,” Emily stated, and Tammy knew it was true. Memories of her bisexual phase in high school rushed to the forefront of her mind, and suddenly she couldn’t breathe past the mental images of her mother’s disdain when she was fifteen and dating Zara Matthews. The coldness in her mother’s voice, then and now, felt like Tammy had swallowed a burning hot coal that was beginning to scorch her insides.

“How will you have children, Tammy?” Emily continued, obviously distraught. Tammy’s fingers tightened on the phone, and she tried to take a deep breath; get herself under control.

“I can adopt,” she replied calmly, “Or find a surrogate. Or…” She paused, hesitating. She was already six feet deep and buried with her mother, it seemed; why not put the nail in her own coffin? “...or maybe I won’t have kids.”

“Tammy,” her mother said reproachfully, “You have to have kids!”

“Says who?” Tammy retorted, her hands trembling where they still held the back of the living room chair for dear life. “I mean, look at me. I’m okay, aren’t I? I’m happy. I, I don’t have to have kids. Besides, I’m an NCIS agent. Who would want a mom who does what I do?”

“A child that understands the meaning of sacrifice,” Emily snapped. “Which you clearly don’t.”

“Mom, I…”

“No, Tammy, just don’t.” Gregorio fell silent, biting her lip hard to avoid letting out the tears that had gathered in her eyes sometime during the phone call. Her mother loved her, she was sure. But Tammy could never be who she wanted, either. And if she had learned one thing from her time in New Orleans with Ethan, before NCIS, it was that sometimes love wasn’t enough.

“Look, dear, I’m not going to say that this is the end of things.” Gregorio’s breath hitched, and she had to fight to keep her emotions in check. She knew that tone well enough to know what her mother was really saying, and it was the end of things. God, she knew her mother wouldn’t approve, but to know it and to have it confirmed were two very different feelings.

“But you should know how I feel about this,” Emily continued, ignorant to her daughter’s pain. “I don’t think it’s right. I don’t think it’s natural. I always thought you grew out of that phase you had in high school, especially after you married Ethan. Which, I know that didn’t work out, but one bad apple doesn’t mean the whole barrel is bad. I-I don’t know what you want from me here, Tammy. You are my daughter, and I love you. But I will not support this lifestyle. When you’re ready, you can come back home. We can work this out. But until then, don’t - don’t call. Don’t visit. Please. Spare us both. I’m sure you won’t feel this way forever, Tammy. When you change your mind, I’ll be here. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Mom - ”

“Tammy, please. Don’t make this any harder than it already is. Just-Just sort yourself out, okay? I’ll be here when you need me. I love you.” With that, the call dropped, and Gregorio sank to her knees behind the worn out chair, breathing hard and fast, on the verge of a fucking panic attack from the call. Emily was gone. She recognized the situation for what it was; her mother had given her an ultimatum. Become straight, or say goodbye to her and their home back in New York forever.

It wasn’t a choice at all.

With the sound of the dial tone in her ear, her mother’s final words before she hung up way too loud in her head, Tammy allowed herself to cry, the weight of the emotions she had struggled to hold back before escaping in full. She sobbed into her knees, her shoulders shaking. She couldn’t be something she wasn’t. She couldn’t change, even though there had been more than enough times that she wanted to. She couldn’t give her mother what she had asked for.

In all the ways that mattered, it was over.

She and her mother had never been close. The truth was that Tammy expected the call to end like this, but it was still more of a blow than she had ever expected to know that the woman who raised her would never accept her for who she was. Tammy felt lost, and cut open, like someone had twisted a knife in her and then left her to die on a street corner. She didn’t know what her next steps were, if there even were any, and more than anything, she felt vulnerable.

It was a feeling she wasn’t used to, between her secrecy about her private life and the walls she built around her heart, but it made her want to hide and protect her six from whatever was going to hurt her. But there was nothing to shield herself from, no imminent threat or dangerous gunman; just her own damage and that goddamn dial tone still humming in her ear, a reminder that she would never be able to call home again.

The thought of home sent a fresh wave of tears cascading down her cheeks, and Tammy finally ripped the cellphone from her ear, throwing it across hardwood until it crashed into the side of her refrigerator. She would regret that later, she was sure, but for now she didn’t care. She couldn’t. The only piece of herself that seemed to matter was in New York, probably opening a bottle of whiskey and no doubt planning to pray for her in church the next day.

Home was gone forever now, even if she hadn’t called it that in years. It was still the place where she was raised, and where she’d learned how to fight for herself in more ways than one. She loved the sprawling hills on their property, and the well where she had nearly drowned once as a child. She loved the fucking tire swing and the garden beds and the old barn where she used to go with the dogs when she needed to be alone. Their house and grounds were so beautiful that sometimes Gregorio hardly believed that she lived in New York growing up. All of it would become a memory now, and she would never be able to touch the wildflowers that grew along the fence line ever again. It shouldn’t have affected her so much, considering it had been years since she even wanted to go home, but the thought of losing it all forever was more than she could handle.

The tears, which hadn’t stopped or slowed in the slightest, were becoming overwhelming and almost nausea-inducing, so Gregorio took a deep breath, moving her hands roughly down her legs, then her calves, then her ankles, trying to ground herself and move away from the precipice of her breakdown. But instead of finding stability in her old brown Doc Martens, like she had hoped, her hand brushed a cold piece of metal, and it sent her heartbeat racing again.

She knew what it was, the feeling unmistakeable against her fingers. It was a sterling silver razor blade, years old at least, tucked into a fraying patch on her boots since November of 2018. She had played a dangerous game with it, allowing it so close; on one hand, it could become dislodged at work and she ran the risk of someone investigating her for psychological issues if they saw where it had been hiding. On the other hand, she could lose it in the field, and she would never have to worry about it, or remember the temptation, ever again.

Neither of those things had happened, apparently, and she knew from the feel of it against her fingers that, somehow, it hadn’t even been scuffed. It was the perfect deadly instrument, even after all these years. Gregorio’s hand trembled.

She hesitated for a second, but pulled the razor blade from the patch on her boot, turning it over and over in her palms like precious gold. A coil of longing hit her like a punch to the gut, and Gregorio tried to suck in a deep breath, wanted to put it back, wanted to throw it away and pretend it never existed, but she couldn’t bring herself to.

If this razor blade had somehow managed to survive three years working as a field agent for the FBI, and one as an NCIS agent, not to mention the countless parties and clubs she’d been to, it had to be a sign. Gregorio didn’t believe in fate, but maybe the gods that weren’t were trying to tell her something now.

It had been five years. It had been half of a lifetime. Part of Gregorio didn’t want to risk it, after fighting so hard to get clean in the first place, but the other, larger part of her that wanted for the quick pain of metal against her skin argued that because it had been so long, it wouldn’t matter now. A relapse wasn’t really a relapse if it only lasted a day, and if she got her act together right after. She could do this, and hide it, then throw it away the next day and no one would ever have to know.

“It’s not like last time,” Gregorio muttered to herself, trying to believe it. “I won’t let it get out of hand.”

She didn’t know if she could keep the promise to herself or not, but it didn’t matter. Her mother’s words were still burning like acid in her lungs, and she just wanted the pain to be replaced with something new, something better, until she was able to get ahold of herself. It was the best, most efficient option, and then she would stop. One cut, she told herself, and after that she would curl up in bed and watch Desperate Housewives or something. One cut, and she would be okay.

Tammy rolled up her sleeve, took a deep breath, and pressed the razor blade to her wrist.

The relief was immediate, almost as overwhelming and euphoric as a drug, and fresh tears rolled down her cheeks at the feeling. It didn’t take away her mother’s homophobia, or the way her abandonment made Tammy feel, but it replaced the worst of it with white-hot pain and the familiar sting of a fresh cut instead. Blood welled like storm clouds in the wound, and slid down her wrist until it began to drip onto her pants. Lazily, Tammy remembered she needed to do laundry and didn’t have another pair of work pants. Another, bigger part of her, however, couldn’t be bothered to care.

Instantly forgetting the one-cut promise, Tammy sliced her way through six pristine cuts before stopping to take a breath, her chest heaving with the relief of giving into the old addiction again. She didn’t remember much from three years ago, the last time she cut, but she could swear it had never felt this good before.

Looking down at her arm, a pageant of crimson lines sluggishly bleeding, Tammy felt the calm settle into her bones, numbness chasing away the pain. She exhaled hard, letting her head thump against the forgotten chair in front of her. She got what she needed. She should stop.

She didn’t.

It was close to midnight before she threw the razor blade down and stopped to admire her work. She wasn’t sure how much blood she would have to clean up, or how much she had lost, and she hadn’t eaten today either. She knew it wasn’t a good idea to just sit there after what she’d done, but her head was swimming, and she was so exhausted that even attempting to get up would have been too much for her. So, instead, Tammy rested her arms on the bloodstained slacks, and let her head loll against the back of the living chair. She had slept in worse places.

~ ~ ~

In the morning, Tammy’s alarm came blaring to life at 6am, startling her awake from where she was slumped over next to the chair. Her arms felt like they were glued to her pants, dried blood sticking to the fabric, and she could feel a telltale crustiness on the seat of her pants that meant, somehow, she had managed to sit in a puddle of blood. “God, make it stop,” she muttered, and struggled to get to her feet to turn off the fucking alarm. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this bad.

By the time she made it to the kitchen, where her phone was at, miraculously not dead but down to the last 5% of its battery, it was almost 6:30 and she was going to be late for work if she didn’t hustle.

Tammy made it to her bedroom with less difficulty, though she still felt lightheaded, and got to work peeling the blood-soaked slacks off and painfully removing her shirt, which had a few spots of blood on it from her careless cutting the night before. She searched through her closet as fast as she could for the most lightweight long-sleeved shirt she had, that was a dark enough color to mask the blood if her cuts opened up while she was at work. After that, she selected a pair of dark jeans, even though they were against the agency dress code, and headed to the bathroom to do what she could for her appearance.

To her dismay, her eyes were still a little bloodshot from last night, and her hair was a mess. She would need makeup to cover up the circles underneath her eyes, evidence of multiple nights of restless sleep in preparation for the phone call with her mother.

The thought of her mother made Tammy’s heart seize up, and she pressed on one of the new cuts, hissing at the sharp pain it brought. It was enough to snap her out of her head, at least, and she got to work applying makeup to cover up what she could of her turmoil. Finally, she was able to run a brush through her hair, grab her gun, badge, and car keys, and head out the door.

Just before walking into the Navy Yard, Tammy hesitated, and considered calling in sick. But as tempting as it was to go back to her apartment and stay in bed all day, that wasn’t a good idea; the NCIS team was like a big fucking family, and they were sure to stop by if they got word she wasn’t feeling well. Not only was her apartment a mess, but the pool of blood by the chair in the living room, as well as the razor blade that had caused all of this damage, was still out in the open for any prying eyes to see.

Still, Tammy knew it would be hard to keep what she had done from her teammates. She would have to be on her guard. They were perceptive, even if they weren’t trained profilers like her, and much worse, they knew her. It would take all of her skills at hiding and lying and pretending to fool them into believing she was fine.

The cuts pulled tight as the fabric of her shirt shifted, making each step and movement she made towards the office painful. She had learned how to hide the pain a long time ago, but a part of her wished she had bandaged the wounds before coming in today, instead of hiding the first-aid supplies in her bag in case of an emergency and hoping for the best. But Pride was already going to kill her for being late, and it would take another fifteen minutes at least to deal with the fallout of her habit. She didn’t want to come off any more suspicious than she already was.

Taking a deep breath, Gregorio etched a smile onto her face, and walked into the NCIS office like everything was fine, as always. Nothing is different today, she warned herself, trying to drill it into her brain. Nothing has changed.

“There ya are, Gregorio! Was startin’ to wonder if we was gonna have to send out a search party,” Chris greeted her with a smile, and Gregorio gave him one of her patented bitchfaces in return.

“I got caught in traffic,” she lied, and watched his face for any signs of disbelief as she made her way to her desk. She clocked the slight raise of his eyebrows, his posture lengthening, and reminded herself to adjust her tone when she was lying.

“Didn’t think there was hardly any traffic on Bourbon Street,” Chris commented, and Tammy turned to place her bag next to her desk and start up her computer. It was easier to lie to someone when she didn’t have to face them.

“There isn’t usually,” she replied, keeping her tone light and casual. “Guess today was my lucky day.”

“Guess so,” Chris responded, and Tammy turned around just in time to see him giving her one of his famous, milliwatt smiles. She grinned back, bumping his shoulder playfully on her way into the kitchen. One down, two to go.

By the time she caught up with Pride and Sonja, it was almost midday, and the hot, humid weather prompted a picnic invite from Pride to eat lunch at the bridge in town. Chris, Sonja, and the others all agreed, leaving Gregorio as the odd one out. She knew she couldn’t decline without offering an explanation, lest they become suspicious of her motives, but she couldn’t accept the invitation when she knew either Chris or Sonja would try to roll up her sleeves the second they arrived, either to tease her or out of care for her wellbeing. Refusing their help against potential heatstroke when it was summer in the middle of New Orleans was a one-way ticket to having her secret revealed.

“Tammy, you’re not going to lunch with us?” Percy pouted, her eyebrows drawn up in that Percy way, that said she was more concerned than disappointed, but was too proud to put voice to her feelings. “Come on, don’t you want to hang with the gang?”

“As much as I would love to ‘hang with the gang’,” Gregorio used air quotes and gave Sonja a playful smirk, “I have a prior obligation.”

“Oooh, someone’s got a hot date,” Chris said, walking into the kitchen with an ice chest for their drinks. “So who is it, Gregorio? Black-haired beauty? Feisty redhead? That’s my type.”

“Excuse you,” Percy retorted, raising her eyebrow in his direction.

“Pardon me,” Chris corrected, giving Sonja a fond smile, “That’s usually my type.”

“Better,” Sonja affirmed, before turning her attention to Gregorio once more. “But seriously, T, where you goin’ that you can’t come hang with us?”

“Well, Chris wasn’t exactly wrong,” Gregorio replied, lifting her coffee mug to her lips to take a sip so she could avoid having to look either of them in the eyes. “A certain mayor’s secretary asked me out the other day, and I can’t leave her hanging a second time.” Though it was a lie that they had a lunch date, it wasn’t a lie that she’d been asked out, so Gregorio didn’t feel as bad as she maybe should for using Amber as her scapegoat.

“With that one, you better not,” Chris replied, chuckling. “I’ve heard she’s got some high standards.”

“Of course she does,” Gregorio retorted without missing a beat. “She’s going on a date with me, isn’t she?”

Sonja and Chris both laughed at that, the latter ribbing her good-naturedly for a minute or two before they calmed down. She allowed her smirk to play on her lips, knowing she could pass it off as satisfaction at her joke instead of her lie. They weren’t suspicious of her anymore, not after she’d thrown them a bone. For now, she was safe.

~ ~ ~

Later that night, when the team was getting ready to wrap up and head home, Pride caught her eye, gesturing her into the kitchen. Tammy dropped her bag and took a deep breath, heading in to meet him. She could feel her heart skip a beat.

Of all of them, Pride was the most likely to figure out that something was wrong, even if he was the least likely to react with anything other than kind, calm patience. Still, the idea of her boss finding out her most guarded secret was more terrifying than she could fathom.

Without speaking or otherwise acknowledging Pride, Gregorio took a seat on the barstool across from him, crossed her arms, and waited. She could feel her heart pounding in her throat, but forced herself to be motionless and keep her expression blank, lest she give away the anxiety she was feeling.

“So, Gregorio,” Pride said, taking in her position and folding his arms across the top of the bar, “Want to tell me what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Gregorio replied defensively, before she could stop herself and try to temper her tone. “What makes you think something’s going on?”

Pride raised an eyebrow at her, unimpressed. “Well, for starters, you came in late today, said it was traffic when traffic is nonexistent on your street, you’re actin’ awful odd, and then you lied to Christopher and Sonja about who you were with for lunch today.”

Gregorio opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, Pride held up his hand and continued, “I have it on good authority that the mayor’s secretary didn’t leave her office all day.” He softened, giving her a worried look, and said, “Just want to know you’re okay, and if anything’s goin’ on that we can help with.”

“It’s nothing,” Gregorio sighed, letting her shoulders slump in defeat. There was no use pretending she was fine if Pride already knew something was up. She didn’t have to tell him everything, but maybe if she told him about her mom, at least, he’d leave her alone.

“Just a little upset from a phone call with my mother yesterday,” Gregorio admitted, picking at her nails to avoid meeting Pride’s eyes. “I came out to her.”

Pride nodded, his eyes filling with support and kindness for her, and moved to wipe down the kitchen counter, in an effort to give her space to talk as much as she wanted to. Gregorio knew the tactic, was familiar with it from teasing the truth out of LaSalle when he was being particularly stubborn. Though she was loathe to admit it, she appreciated it. “How did she take it?”

“Not well,” Tammy sighed, pressing her nail into the pad of her thumb to resist the urge to burst into tears again. She had already done enough crying in the past 24 hours. “She basically gave me an ultimatum; stop being gay, or stop coming home. Permanently.”

“Oh, Tammy,” Pride breathed, sympathy pouring out of him and into her. “I’m so sorry.” He reached across the bar to lay a hand on her shoulder, and against her will, Tammy leaned into the touch.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, closing her eyes to avoid letting Pride see how glossy they had become. “W-We were never really close.”

“Still, that’s gotta hurt,” Pride said, withdrawing just enough to allow her time to fight back the tears and open her eyes once more. “Parents’ rejection is…one of the worst things that can happen to a child. No matter how old they are.”

“Yeah,” Tammy breathed, the weight of her own exhaustion hitting her as she slumped on the barstool. She couldn’t remember the last time she had let something damage her like this. Who knew her mother’s decision would have such an impact on her? She sighed and tugged lightly on one of her sleeves, until it was down far enough on her arm to cover her fingers. Pride caught the movement, but said nothing. “To make matters worse, she tried to frame it like she loved me, and she was going to be there for me.” Tammy laughed bitterly, emotion swelling up in her throat. “She’s so convinced I’m going to change, Pride.”

“Not the way it works,” Pride said fondly, giving her a warm smile. His hand, still on her shoulder, was like a grounding wire, keeping her settled, and she felt like she was being comforted by the father she never had.

“Yeah,” Tammy said, again, and her voice wobbled on the last syllable. Under Pride’s kind, supportive words and gentle ministrations, she could feel the dam in her chest threatening to explode, and she slid sideways off of the barstool, grabbing for her coat and heading towards the door. She had to get out of here, before she lost it completely. “Anyway, I should go - ”

“Wait,” Pride called, and moved to follow her, grabbing her wrist to stop her from leaving. Without thinking, still trying to calm the tidal wave of emotion in her chest, Gregorio hissed in pain.

“Tammy,” Pride said slowly, releasing her wrist with some reluctance, “There something wrong with your arm?”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Tammy replied, giving him a quick, panicked smile. “Just bruised it on the countertop when I was getting ready for work this morning.”

“That so?” Pride asked, and he sounded suspicious enough to make Tammy’s heart skip a beat in fear. She curled her fingers around her sleeves protectively. “Mind if I take a look at it?”

“Don’t bother,” Gregorio replied, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. “I told you, Pride, it’s nothing.”

“Didn’t sound like nothing,” Pride replied, and he reached for her wrist again. Determined not to give anything away, Tammy kept her face purposefully blank, allowing him to hold her arm in his hand even as his fingers pressing against the cuts felt like a sharp knife against her skin. “Thing is, Tammy…” Pride moved to grasp her sleeve, and Gregorio’s entire body tensed, waiting for his next move. This was not happening.

“You haven’t worn long sleeves this dark, especially during summer, all year,” he continued, “and that first time we talked, up on the balcony in your hotel when you first came here – you wore a tank top, and I don’t think you thought about it then, but I noticed something the others didn’t get the chance to see.” He lifted his gaze to meet Gregorio’s eyes, and she knew, without having to ask what he meant, that she was done for.

Pride knows.

“I’ve seen the scars on your wrists, Tammy,” Pride said softly, “And I’ve never mentioned it, because it’s not my business and I don’t want you to think I’m judging you for it. But if your arm is hurt…after all you’ve been through in the past few days, you understand why I need to check, right?”

Tammy nodded tightly, trying not to cry, as Pride moved to roll up her sleeve. At the last second, just before he could grab the cuff of her shirt, she blurted out: “And what do you think you’ll find, if you check?”

“I think you and I both know the answer to that,” Pride responded, his voice as kind and understanding as ever. Tammy choked on a sob, losing the battle against her emotions, and pulled away from him, running her hands through her hair so hard that she was sure she’d left red, inflamed scratches on her scalp. She heaved a deep breath and choked on it, trying to hold in the breakdown that wanted to happen, fighting to remain in control. Pride couldn’t see her like this. No one could.

“Just - Just please don’t demote me,” Tammy begged, straightening up and gasping for breath, wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans. “D-Don’t put me on desk duty. I can still handle myself in the field, I promise I’m not a liability, Pride.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” Pride said, and her heart sank. “For now, we need to get you taken care of.” He glanced at his watch, and muttered, “Loretta might still be here, I’d have to check the morgue.”

“No – please,” Gregorio pleaded, embarrassment creeping up to settle like fire on her cheeks. “No one else needs to know about this.”

“They do, Tammy,” Pride argued, raising his eyebrows at her. “They’re your teammates. Your family. They care about you. Of course they should know about this.”

“Please,” Tammy said, raising her arms to hug herself, trying to get some semblance of comfort in the least embarrassing or incriminating way possible.

“Look,” Pride said, gesturing for her to sit down across from him in the kitchen once more, taking a seat opposite her on the island, “I know you’re scared. You’re worried about what the others might think. But they love you, Tammy, and they want to help you. I do too.”

“What if they hate me?” Tammy breathed, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. She knew she looked like a wreck, pathetic even, but this was her worst nightmare come true and she couldn’t pretend anymore. “Pride, I’m weak.” She gestured haphazardly at her arms, at herself, and shook her head, avoiding his gaze by staring down the marble kitchen tile. “They’ll see me differently.”

“Maybe so,” Pride conceded, “but not in the way you think. They won’t consider you weak, Tammy. I don’t.” He reached out to lay his hand on her arm, comforting and grounding her with the touch. “You’re one of the strongest people I know, Gregorio.”

“Even now that you know I - ” Tammy gestured to her arms once more, at a loss for words. “ - Again?”

“Even now,” Pride confirmed, giving her a firm nod and a steady look that swore honesty. “Tammy, no one on this team will think any less of you for struggling with this.”

“Promise?” Tammy whispered, letting some of the vulnerability she was feeling slip into her voice as she asked the question.

“Promise,” Pride affirmed, and gave her arm a soft, gentle pat.

Gregorio nodded, her shoulders slumping in relief as some of the tension was alleviated. “Do you have to tell them tonight?”

“No, not tonight,” Pride responded. “But soon.”

“I understand.” Gregorio looked away, the fear thundering back to life in her chest. For an instant, under Pride’s reassuring words, it had disappeared.

“It’s gonna be okay, Gregorio,” Pride promised her, moving from the opposite side of the bar to wrap her in a tight hug. “The team’ll take care of you.”

“Shouldn’t have to,” Gregorio protested weakly, but Pride shushed her with a hand in her hair, stroking gently.

“We want to,” he said, and Gregorio was struck with how much she wished he could have been her real dad. Maybe her future would’ve turned out better if he was. “This is somethin’ that everyone is more ‘n willin’ to help you with. We’re gonna get it taken care of. Got your back, Tammy, not just for work.”

“Thanks, Pride,” Gregorio whispered, too emotional to express her gratitude any further. She was sure Pride understood. In his arms, trembling, Gregorio could admit that maybe what she had really needed was the support and acceptance of her loved ones. Maybe her mother would never love her the way she was, but she had an entire family here in New Orleans that did.

Maybe that was what mattered.

And if, the next day, when Loretta called her down to the morgue and told Gregorio about her mother’s issues with self-harm while she bandaged the fresh cuts on Tammy’s arms, she felt a small piece of her heart begin to heal, she didn’t mention it. And if, when Sebastian gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek and offered to call her and ramble about whatever came to mind when she was having urges, she started to tear up, well, no one could prove it (she had threatened Sebastian with removing his Power Rangers collection from the lab if he told anyone). And if, when Chris said nothing but drew her into the tightest hug she could ever remember receiving, and Percy showed up at her house without warning to sit on the couch with her and watch basketball, she began to realise this was all the family she needed, she knew she could blame Pride for most of it.

Getting clean again, and resisting the urge to take a blade to her arms whenever she felt like her world was falling apart, was a fight that took months, and she did end up on desk duty for some of it, but despite the silence that stretched between her and her mother, she found that the most important thing was the family that she had right here.

Maybe she didn’t need what used to be her home when she had a better one here in New Orleans.

[improvidus]

The One About Naps

Warnings | None

Rating | K+

Genres | Friendship, Humor, Family, 5+1

Characters | Tammy Gregorio (POV), Patton Plame, Sonja Percy, Christopher LaSalle, Dwayne Pride, Loretta Wade, Raymond Isler

Pairings | Persalle (undertones)

Word Count | 4K

Summary: Five times Gregorio finds her new co-workers sleeping in strange places, and one time they find her.

1. Percy

The first time it happened, Gregorio was pouring herself a cup of coffee. She had yet to acquire a taste for the “essence de chicorée,” but with the way this case was going—had been going, non-stop, for nearly forty-six hours, now—she needed every drop of caffeine she could get. She had just finished a brief stint of sleep on the sofa upstairs, but she was fairly certain it had left her more exhausted than before.

She blew a stray strand of hair out of her eyes and reached for the container of sugar, growling when the little metal spout fought her as she tried to open it. Under normal circumstances, she didn’t take sugar, but she was banking on the chance that if she dumped in enough, it would give her the high she needed to last a few more hours. She clanked her spoon around inside a few times before tapping the loose drops free and tossing it in the sink. A couple of boxes of pizza had been left on the table and she grabbed a slice of Hawaiian, tearing off a bite and making a face. It had long ago gone cold. She swiped up a paper plate and shook her head, grumbling under her breath.

She was about to head back to her desk when she tripped, letting out a less-than-dignified yelp as she flailed to catch herself, wrapping her arms around a chair and spewing an impressive stream of colorful words as coffee sloshed over her hands and her paper plate fell to the floor. Her pizza would have gone with it, were it not still hanging from her clenched teeth. Balance regained, she looked down to see what she had tripped over. The lights in the kitchen were dim, but she could just see the toe of a small black combat boot peeking out from beneath the table. She frowned. Someone had left their shoes in the floor?

Unless…

She set her mug on the counter, slapped her pizza, plate-less, beside it, and got down on her hands and knees, squinting into the shadows under the table. Gregorio felt her eyebrows climb.

There, sprawled on her stomach in the middle of the floor, was Sonja Percy, sound asleep. At least, soundly enough that Gregorio plowing over her foot hadn’t seemed to make a dent. Her head was pillowed on her arms, right foot tucked beneath her left knee. At first glance, Gregorio had thought she was covered by a small blanket, but a closer look revealed it to be a jacket—or, more specifically, a shirt-jack. A denim shirt-jack. LaSalle’s denim shirt-jack.

She smirked. Interesting.

The way the garment was able to fully cover not only her trunk but half the length of her legs,  as well, paired with the way she was scowling in her sleep only served to reinforce the “grumpy warrior dwarf” image Gregorio had had when she first met Percy.

“You havin’ some kinda breakdown down there, or were you just tired of chairs?”

Gregorio straightened so fast she nearly whacked her head on the table’s edge. Patton was stopped in the doorway that led to the courtyard, his head cocked, eyeing her quizzically where she squatted in the floor.

“No, I just—” She broke off, gesturing at the sleeping form before her.

Patton caught sight of the wayward toe and a knowing look crossed his face. “Who is it?”

“Percy. Does she do this often?” Gregorio was unable to hide her surprise at Patton’s lack thereof.

He snorted. “Girl, you got no idea. They all do. Cases go long like this, they catch their Z’s whenever—and wherever—they can. They just plop down wherever they at, and abracadabra—they out light a light.” He straightened his tie and patted it back beneath his vest. “Dang near given me heart attacks on more than one occasion.”

Gregorio frowned, turning her attention back to Percy as she processed this new information. She was growing accustomed to her colleagues’ laid back work environment, but this was…She shook her head. “Wow.”

“You’re tellin’ me. I almost ran over LaSalle, once.”

Her ankles and the backs of her knees complained as she straightened, scooping up her plate and chucking it before she retrieved her mug and took another bite of pizza. “Now that’s a story I wanna hear.” They made their way back into the bullpen, leaving Percy to her strange napping grounds.

2. Sebastian

The second time it happened, she had been sent to the lab to see how Sebastian was doing with the forensic analysis of some powdery substance they had found on their killer’s most recent vic. That made six, total. For now. She ran a hand over her face and sighed, offering up a short prayer that their gangly forensic geek would be in an English-speaking mood before rapping on the pane of glass in the door and breezing through. “Sebastian, where are you with the—”

She frowned. The man in question was nowhere to be seen. “Sebastian?”

There was no response.

She ducked back into the hall and poked her head into the morgue. Even Wade was showing signs of exhaustion. If they didn’t catch this guy soon...“Hey, Doc! Sebastian in here?”

“Hello, Tammy. I’m afraid not. You checked the lab? He was in there just a few minutes ago.”

“Yeah, I didn’t see him. Huh. That’s okay, I’ll just wait for him. Probably just went to the bathroom or something.”

Back in the lab, Gregorio picked up one of Sebastian’s dolls (“Action figures, Gregorio. They’re action figures. Have some class.”) and fiddled with it as she leaned back against his desk. A few minutes ticked by, and there was still no sign of Sebastian. She shook her head, slamming the doll back down on the desk, and was about to go looking for him when she heard a contented sigh.

She straightened, frowning. Her hand went to her service weapon, senses on alert. What if their killer was here, in the lab? What if he’d already taken care of Sebastian? Another sound led her to a multi-layered cart. There it was again, near her feet. It was almost like a...snore.

An idea formed in her mind as she slowly crouched before the cart.

Shoving her weapon back in its holster, she blew out a huff and rolled her eyes at herself and the sight before her. Yup.

Sebastian was curled on the cart’s bottom rack, sleeping peacefully in the single most odd position she had ever seen. It looked like he had sat down cross-legged and just...folded the rest of him over his legs. His face was smashed against the metal, gentle breaths whooshing in and out through slightly puckered lips. Gregorio snorted. He looked like an over-grown baby. Or a pretzel.

She decided ripping off the proverbial band-aid was the best option in this case. Well. At least the most entertaining. “Sebastian!”

The man jerked upright, eyes going wide and then becoming slits when he smacked his head on the rack above him.

Gregorio smirked. “Sleeping Beauty awakes!”

Sebastian rubbed at his head. “That was mean.”

Gregorio shrugged, watching with some amusement as he carefully maneuvered himself out of his chosen bed. “Maybe so, but that’s what you get for napping on the job. How tall are you, anyway? What, six-two, six-three?”

“Six-two. Why?”

“Six-two. You wanna tell me how the heck you fit in that thing?”

He shrugged, stretching as he stood. “I’m flexible.”

“I noticed that.”

Sebastian’s eyes cut to hers sharply as his ears began to glow a bright red. “Oh. Did—did you—was I—”

“Oh, yeah. For sure.”

The red spread to his cheeks.

Gregorio gave his arm a pat. “Don’t worry, Pretzel Man. Your secret’s safe with me.”

3. LaSalle

Isler wasn’t supposed to be here. Not now. Anytime but now.

The team had been running on fumes for nearly a week, frantically trying to stop an impending terrorist attack. They had averted the bombing planned for a Mardi Gras parade through the Quarter two days ago, but there was no time to celebrate their victory. Their man was still on the loose. Pride and LaSalle had been working triple overtime to let the junior agents get rest where they could during the hunt, and they were beginning to look like the ghoulishly pale masks their would-be bomber left behind him. Pride was consuming coffee by the pot, and when she asked why he wasn’t taking a break, he just shook his head and said he’d sleep when they got their man. For his part, LaSalle just flashed a very subdued version of his usual grin and said he never slept much over Mardi Gras season, anyway. When she’d shoved her half-full mug of lukewarm coffee into his hands, he’d stared into it longingly for a full thirty seconds before reluctantly passing it back and shaking his head. “Can’t. Messes with my aim.”

It was now nearly ten o’clock at night on day three since the bombing attempt and tensions were high, a feeling of dread clogging their usually comfortable workspace as they waited for the next shoe to drop. Pride and Percy were interrogating their suspect’s cousin, and LaSalle was...Well, Gregorio didn’t actually know where he was, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She was too busy wallowing in self-pity as she sat with her face planted in the files spread over her desk, grumbling under her breath.

And of course, that was when Isler showed up. “Am I interrupting something?”

Gregorio squinted up at him, wishing she could wipe the smug expression off of his face. “You couldn’t have called first?”

“No. For all intents and purposes, I’m not here.”

“Okay.” She sat up and pushed her hair out of her face, not allowing herself to feel sheepish about the compromising position he had found her in. He could judge from his easy chair all he wanted. No way he knew what they had been through the last few days. “If you’re not supposed to be here, why are you?”

“I may have a lead.”

She sat up straighter, all contention forgotten. “Really? That’s great, let me get Pride, and we can—”

“Text him. We won’t need backup, and he’s interrogating Miles Ortega, isn’t he?”

“How did you—” he quirked an eyebrow and she rolled her eyes. “FBI. Right.” She tugged on her jacket and pulled out her phone. “Address?”

He gave it to her, and she shot off a quick text to Pride before following him out the door. “Where’s your car?”

“I’m not here in an official capacity, remember? I took a taxi from the airport.”

“Okay. We’ll take the truck.” She climbed in the driver’s seat and sent another text, this one to LaSalle.  Got a lead. Borrowing your baby. Don’t worry, I’ll get her back to you in one piece. She smirked. Probably.

“You sending a Dear John, Gregorio? Let’s go!”

She put her phone away and made a face. “Yes, sir.”

As they pulled out into the street, a sudden burst of recorded drums and a chant of “Roll! Tide!” filled the truck. It lasted less than a second, but it was enough to nearly give Gregorio a heart attack.

Isler looked at her with raised eyebrows. “That’s your text alert? I never pegged you for an Alabama fan.”

She snorted. “I’m not. That would be LaSalle’s. He must have left his phone in here.” She frowned, feeling around for it in the center console with her free hand.

“Huh. Professional.”

“He is! Usually. We’re all a little frazzled right now, is all,” she said defensively, despite her surprise that LaSalle would have neglected to grab his phone with all of this going on. Her hand drifted into the back, shuffling through a quilt that she didn’t remember being there yesterday. “It won’t happen again.”

Isler shrugged and looked out the window as Gregorio continued patting down the quilt. Where had he left his phone? She was about to give up, deciding she’d search for it later, when her hand came into contact with a limp something that was very hot, very rough, and very dry.

A hand.

She let out a squawk and the truck swerved a little as she jerked her hand back.

“Gregorio, what the—”

“I—there’s a—” LaSalle. It had to be LaSalle. That would explain the phone. And the quilt. Her jaw clenched. “Sorry, I um—I think that quilt has been on a few too many camping trips. There was a spider or something.”

“You’re afraid of spiders?”

She leveled a steely glare on Isler. “Are you gonna sit there and tell me you’re not?”

He shifted in his seat and returned to looking out the window. “No comment.”

“That’s what I thought.” She glued her eyes to the road ahead and cautiously reached back beneath the quilt to find the hand again. It squeezed her fingers. Uh-huh. Her eyes narrowed. She patted around until she found what she guessed to be chest or stomach and smacked it. Hard. There was a hollow thunking sound and a soft “oomph!” She smiled. Stomach, then.

Isler’s eyes cut from her to the quilt piled between the front and back seats a few times before lingering on her, eyebrow quirked, mouth opening and closing once, twice, and then again before he wisely chose to leave his questions unasked.

She spared him a prim glance. “Spider. Got it.”

4. Loretta

“Hey, Doc, you in here?” Percy poked her head in the door of the morgue and stopped short. “Well, now.”

Gregorio leaned in to see over her shoulder. “What?” She blinked. “Oh. That’s, uh, that’s a new one.”

“Yeah. Should we, uh—”

“Nah. She’s been on her feet for even longer than we have on this one.”

Percy shot her a doubtful look.

“Okay, well. At least as long,” she amended.

They stood in silence for a few moments before Percy broke it. “She looks so…”

“Peaceful.”

“Yeah.” Percy’s face scrunched up. “She’s been in this line of work too long.”

“For sure.”

A beat.

Gregorio shifted on her feet. “This making you uncomfortable, too?”

“Oh, heck yeah.”

“Great, just checking.”

Gregorio didn’t notice the door to Sebastian’s lab open and close until a whisper, loud, hot, and mockingly conspiratorial, brushed past her ear. “What’re y’all lookin’ at?”

The girls whipped around in unison to find LaSalle, smirking down at them and looking very pleased with himself.

Percy put a finger to her lips and shushed him fiercely, despite the fact that her yelp as a result of his whisper had been much louder than the whisper itself.

He held up placating hands. “Sorry. Seriously, though. What’s so—” he broke off, eyebrows shooting up as his head cocked to one side. “Well, there’s something I never thought I’d see.”

“You and me both,” Gregorio said, shaking her head.

LaSalle joined their stack—his chin jutting over Gregorio’s shoulder, Gregorio’s over Percy’s.

The solemn silence was shattered by a loud shutter sound. The girls jumped and swiveled again. LaSalle was holding his phone aloft, grinning down at the photo he had just taken.

They glared.

He threw his hands out indignantly. “What? King would never believe me if I don’t get some photographic evidence of...this.” He waved vaguely towards the sight before him.

Gregorio considered for a minute before shrugging. “That’s fair.”

Percy pulled the door shut gently and stood on tiptoes to see past LaSalle’s shoulder. “Well, let’s see it, Country Mouse!”

Gregorio stationed herself at his other shoulder as he turned his screen so they could both see the photo of Loretta Wade, curled contentedly beneath a white sheet, sound asleep on the morgue’s only available autopsy table.

5. Pride

Gregorio’s nose twitched as it noticed a strange element joining the mouth-watering scent of Pride’s Louisiana-famous gumbo. She looked up from her paperwork. Something was burning.

She waited a moment, expecting to hear Pride scrambling around in an attempt to rescue his food, but all was silent in the kitchen. Frowning, she stood and followed her nose to find Pride standing at the stove, one hand at his side, the other loosely gripping a wooden spoon. The spoon was poised to stir the gumbo, but it wasn’t stirring. Gregorio watched for a moment as he just stood there, unmoving.

“Pride?”

Nothing.

“Hey, boss.”

Nada.

“Okay, you’re starting to freak me out, here.”

Nope.

She crossed the room, coming to a halt when she reached his side, hand going out to take his arm. “Pride, are you o—” she dropped her hand to her side as Pride released a loud snore. “Oh, you gotta be kidding me. You too?”

Another snore.

“Pride.”

Snore.

“Pride!”

No dice.

She took his arm urgently. “Your gumbo’s burning!”

Pride jerked and choked on a snore, his stirring starting up again before his eyes were fully open. He blinked. “Gregorio?”

“The one and only. I thought an experienced cook like yourself would know better than to fall asleep at the stove??”

Pride sighed and waved her off. “It wasn’t intentional. I’m good now. The team needs to eat.”

“The team can get take-out. You need to sleep. Seriously.” She took the spoon from him. “Sonja can’t eat this, anyway. I’ll call the mice twins and have them pick something up on their way back.”

Pride scoffed and shook his head. “You’ve all been working so hard on this one. I wanted to do somethin’ nice for y’all.”

“And we appreciate that, Pride. We do. But you’ve been going just as hard as the rest of us, and honestly…” she glanced at the scorching gumbo and flicked the burner off before putting a hand on Pride’s arm. “I think the nicest thing you could do for us right now is to get some sleep before you burn this place down, yeah?”

Pride chuckled. “You may be right.”

“Oh, I’m right.” She put a hand on his back and herded him to the door. “Go sleep. The case will be here when you wake up, and so will we. If I know LaSalle and Percy, there’ll probably even be some po’ boys.”

Pride turned to face her. “Are you sure? I can—”

“I’m sure. Positive. Go sleep.”

He raised his eyebrows at the commanding tone her voice had taken on. “You do remember that I’m your boss, right?”

“Yep. Always. Now get out of here.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “All right, you win. I’m goin’.” He took exactly five steps before turning back. “If you find anything—”

“We’ll call you. Go. Sleep. We got this.”

“Alright. Okay. Okay, I’m goin’.”

Gregorio stepped out into the courtyard and watched with arms crossed and eyebrow quirked until his door closed behind him. Then she fired off a jubilant fist-pump and pulled out her phone. “Hey, Percy. You’ll never guess what I just pulled off.”

+1. Gregorio

“Hey, you seen Gregorio recently?”

LaSalle looked up from the sea of paperwork his desk was drowning in to see Percy standing in the kitchen doorway, hands on her hips, face scrunched in the way that made her nose crinkle a little. He straightened out the smirk that tried to form on his face at the sight. “Not since I got back from Miss Loretta’s. Why? What’s up?”

“Nothin’s up, really, I just wanted to get her opinion on Arlan Kyle’s file. Let her work her profiling magic and jazz. But she’s not in the kitchen, she’s not in Patton’s office, the courtyard is a ghost yard.”

“You check upstairs?”

She sent him a Look and the smirk threatened to resurface. “Of course I did. I even checked the interrogation rooms. Zero. Zilch. Nada.”

“Huh. Maybe she’s out chasin’ down a lead, or something.”

Percy looked doubtful. “Without telling anyone? That’s not Gregorio.” Her eyes took on a mischievous glint. “You, on the other hand...”

“That was one time.”

“Yeah, and Brody and I almost shot you that one time.” She put air-quotes around the last two words.

“One could argue that I almost shot you and Brody.”

“Yeah, okay. Believe what you want to, Country Mouse, but the point is, taking off alone, without telling anybody, is a monumentally dumb idea and Gregorio isn’t monumentally dumb.”

LaSalle squinted at the implied insult. “Somebody’s playing hardball tonight.”

“Aw, sorry. You’re not always dumb.” Her tone changed abruptly from condescending sugar to bored chagrin. “But when you are, it’s monumental.”

LaSalle rolled his eyes, but couldn’t quite stifle his laugh. “Yeah, okay. I’ll give you that one. But you better watch yourself, City Mouse. Next time you do somethin’ stupid I’m gonna be on you like buzzards on week-old roadkill.”

Percy made a face as she sat down at her desk. “Well, that’s a lovely mental image. But you’re gonna be waitin’ a while, Country Mouse. You got nothin’ on me.”

“Yet.” Chris rooted around in the desk’s top drawer and came up with an empty box. “You got a paperclip?”

“Ran out this morning. Check Gregorio’s?”

LaSalle rose and stretched, ambling over to Gregorio’s desk and pulling open a drawer. His eyebrows shot up as he took in the haphazard tangle of office supplies. “She’s got a whole danged arsenal in here!” Boxes of staples, spare pencil leads, scotch tape, zebra pens, and there—paper clips. “Think fast.” He chucked a box at Percy, slinging it far enough that she shot back in her chair to catch it, barely  slamming her feet down in time to save herself from toppling backward.

She held the small package aloft, a triumphant smirk on her face. “Read ‘em and weep, LaSalle.”

“Can’t blame a guy for tryin’.” His grin abruptly turned to a frown when his shoe brushed against something hard under the desk. He moved his foot around a little. Whatever it was, it was large. He braced a hand on the desktop and crouched to take a look. The grin returned full tilt as his head popped back up. “Pssst. Percy!”

She looked up. “Why are you on the floor?”

He held a finger to his lips and beckoned her over.

She crossed to the desk, a frown gathering on her face. “Why are we whispering?”

“Look.”

She stepped behind him, bending a little to follow his gaze. “What are you—” She broke off when she caught sight of Tammy Gregorio curled beneath her desk, face resting on prayer hands. Percy clapped a hand over her mouth, but LaSalle still heard the giggle that bubbled free.

He grinned back at her, mouthing “busted.”

“She’s gonna be so embarrassed when she wakes up!”

“Yeah. There goes all her ammo for teasin’ us about our sleeping habits. Hey, toss me my jacket?”

She tiptoed away and was back a moment later, pressing the cool leather into his hand. He spread it over the newbie as warily as if she were a poisonous snake that might strike if he moved too quickly. But she didn’t stir. Gaining confidence, he rearranged it a little, trying in vain to find a way to fully cover her. Despite her all-but fetal position, his best efforts still left her socked feet exposed.  He ran a hand over his mouth and nodded. “I guess that’ll have to—”

“Think fast!” Percy’s voice hissed across the bullpen and he looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of her wicked grin before his head snapped back and his face was engulfed in denim. He peeled it away and did his best to keep his unimpressed glare from cracking as she threw her arms in the air and shout-whispered, “She scores! The crowd goes wild! Ahhhhh!”

His laughter got the best of him as he shook his head and tucked the jacket over Gregorio’s exposed feet. “You’re some kinda special, you know that, Percy?”

“Oh, come on. You know you love me.”

LaSalle was suddenly very grateful for the desk that concealed his face.

A/N: This one was so fun to write!!!! I’d never written a 5+1 fic before, but...I think I’ll have to write more. That was FUN. Didn’t feel like work at all. But that may be due to how entertaining the characters are? I love writing for them. Fun fact, Sebastian’s “pretzel position” may or may not be based on my favorite way to sleep. Kudos, props, and candy to anyone who caught the VeggieTales reference!

Feedback always, always appreciated. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this, lovely soul! It means more to me than you’ll ever know. Don’t forget to drink water today! And maybe eat a cake. Or an apple. Something to make your heart happy. I love you. Jesus loves you. Have a marvelous day, you!

Author out.

[silvermidnightwrite]

Tomorrow (NCIS: New Orleans One-Shot)

Fandom: NCIS: New Orleans

Pairing: Christopher LaSalle/Dwayne ‘King’ Pride

Summary: When Pride realizes that he doesn't remember what he and Chris planned for the next day he begins to feel like a horrible boyfriend. Chris sets out to set him straight.

Warnings: Sex, Facefucking, Blowjobs

Going through old notebooks I found this story and had to keep writing it. Then it took on a life of its own. I don't know how it got to the point that it did, but I'm not complaining and I hope you aren't either!

I hope you enjoy!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24601201

[navalcriminalimagines]

Can you do 17, 18, and 23 with Dwayne? You’ve got me simping for him now, all because of one piece. I had been hesitant but your work pushed it over the edge 😂

Sorry not sorry :D Dwayne Pride deserves so much love, I'm very happy I pushed you over the edge, haha! Welcome to the club and enjoy <3

17. "Your lips are so soft. I could kiss them all day."

18. "It's not bad to cry. In fact, I think it makes a person stronger."

23. "Shh, it was just a bad dream. Just a dream, okay? None of it was real."

Warnings: mention of Ziva's "death" and Tony's departure, nightmares, crying

Stay with me

Your relationship with Dwayne Pride could be call a long-distance relationship if either of you had the guts to admit your love for other, or at least, admit that you were exclusive, and wanted to see each other as much as possible.

For Dwayne, he didn't want to hold you back. You were younger than him, lived in DC and eventually wanted to get married and have kids. He wasn't against getting married again - especially to you - but he surely felt too old to have another child. Laurel was an adult, he was at the age to have a grandchild, not another child.

As for you, you were scared to admit that you were head over heels for the man. You were scared of having your heart broken again, of losing someone you love again. Deep inside, you knew that Dwayne wouldn't do anything to hurt you but things can happen. And most importantly, with this job, the risks of losing him every day were higher than for someone doing a regular desk job.

You hadn't seen Dwayne in a few months. You exchanged texts regularly, even facetimed often, but it was nothing compare to the reality of having his arms wrapped around you. Especially during this time.

Ziva was dead. Tony had left DC with Tali. You had lost two other people. Two people you loved so much were gone and you were a wreck. You tried to hide your pain, your nightmares, your fears, but Dwayne knew better than that. So, he let LaSalle in charge of this office and jumped on a plane for DC.

After another long day at work, during which everyone tried to act like everything was okay even though it wasn't, all you wanted to do was curled up under your blanket, watch a meaningless show until you fell asleep and hoped you wouldn't get nightmares.

When you saw that the lights were on in your apartment, you instantly grabbed your gun, holding it up, ready to fire whoever broke in. You followed the sounds to the kitchen, and you yelled to the person standing there, "NCIS!"

"Me too," Dwayne called you right away, holding his hands in surrender. You were pointing a gun at him, but he was smiling at you.

"Jesus, Dwayne." You breathed out, putting your gun back where it belonged. It took a moment for you to realize that Dwayne was there. He had made the trip from New Orleans to DC.

Dropping the tea towel that was on his shoulder, he walked up to you and hugged you tight. You didn't react right away, still not taking notice that the man you love was right there--for you. And maybe you were scared to let go of all the pain and sorrow you had been bottling up for weeks.

Dwayne heard your shallow breath in his neck. He knew you were holding back and he didn't want you to. "It's not bad to cry. In fact, I think it makes a person stronger." You didn't need more.

You cried, sobbed, sniffled in his arms and Dwayne let you. "I'm here, darling," he kept whispering. "It's okay, love."

You had no idea for how long you cried, all you knew was that at some point, Dwayne had carried you to the couch and cuddled you there. "That's probably not the welcoming you were expecting," you said, drying your tears away with the back of your hand.

"I most certainly didn't want you to pretend in front of me. Don't ever lie to me by saying you're okay when I know you're not." You nodded to that before finally kissing him. He tasted your tears on your lips and his heart broke a little more for you. Dwayne hated seeing you like this, all he wanted was to kiss your pain away but he knew it was impossible. You were going to need time and he planned on being there every step of the way, even from New Orleans.

"Your lips are so soft," you whispered. "I could kiss them all day."

"Feel free, darling."

As he was waiting for you to come home from work, Dwayne had been cooking his famous gumbo. He knew how much you loved it, and food was one of his ways to take care of the ones he loves.

You hadn't eat this much in weeks. To be honest, you forced yourself to finish your plate, but Dwayne's cooking was absolutely worth the stomachache.

Dwayne offered you to talk to him, tell him how you were feeling, talk about your grief, and pain. But that night, all you wanted to do was snuggling him. He agreed, after making you promise to open up later.

You fell asleep in his arms and Dwayne carried you to your bed. He undressed you first then himself before sliding under the sheets, spooning you.

In the middle of the night, he felt you moving intensely. Waking up, he heard you crying and calling his name. It took a small moment for Dwayne to realize that you were having a nightmare. "Darling," he said in a low voice, putting his hand on your chest. You weren't waking up, your cries were intensifying.

"Dwayne, no! P--please, stay with me!" he heard you say.

This time he sat next to you and gently stroked your cheek. "Y/N, darling. Wake up," Reluctantly, he shook your shoulders in order to wake you up. When you did open your eyes, he saw the panic in them and you cried again. Immediately, he held you close to him. "Shh, it was just a bad dream. Just a dream, okay? None of it was real." he reassured you, gently rocking you. "I'm right here."

"Don't ever die on me, D." you sobbed. "Please, I can't lose you too."

"You won't,"

He knew it was irrational to say something like that in his line of duty. But the woman he loves was in so much pain, there was nothing he wouldn't do to make it all better. That was why the next morning, you started to talk about the possibility of you moving to New Orleans with him.

[alittlepronetopanic]

Christmas Countdown - Day 9

Tradition

(gif not mine. credit to owner)

Fandom: NCIS: New Orleans

Pairing: Dwayne Pride x Reader

Word Count: 217 (Sorry, but Pride isn’t really my strong point writing wise, but hopefully it’s still enough)

You hadn’t been to Dwayne’s house since before he had hung up his decorations and you were curious about how he would decorate his space. As you entered, you immediately looked around, the tree was larger than you imagined; coloured lights flickered on and off, the baubles shined in the daylight and the small ornaments drew your attention even more. Little snowmen and Santas along with an angel or two.

On the mantelpiece a stocking with the word ‘Dwayne’ was embroidered into the top and you walked straight over to it, examining it closely. “This is beautiful, Dwayne.”

“It is. My mom had it made it for me as a kid.” he explained as he ran his fingers across the fine stitching work. “I hang it up wherever I am each holiday season, without fail, it’s a tradition now. For me, anyway.” he smiled and took the stocking off the mantle.

Dwayne handed it to you so you could take an ever closer look. The stitch work was perfect, better than you had ever seen, and you couldn’t help but wonder the price for such a perfect piece of work. You smiled yourself and delicately placed it back into the special agent’s hands and he pinned it carefully back where it was.