Made some revisions. OK, so, if he told the story to the guys in the squad, he might have made himself more of a colossus, athletically pounding her on that beat-up kitchen table, filling her up until she begged for more, clawing his back with those nails that he felt kind of…precious for wondering if they were real or not, given that she hauled around wooden weapons and actually fought the things that went bump in the night.(or, she totally got Bunk to buy into her craziness. Not the usual scenario, but anyone could have his head turned.)

With the right inducement—he’d been married too long if he sat around with a young woman who just *walked around naked* without worrying too much about what light or shadow might be showing him, and then, wondering out of some combination of living with a woman, whatever bond there was between him and Ronnie, and some twisted variant of professional detective curiosity, whether there’s a join for her fingernails. He…didn’t notice, but he had a few other things taking the blood from his brain.

At first, it was good once they got all of…most of the toys, but especially Sean’s saber out of the bed---Faith made a suggestion, but there were enough reasons why he couldn’t face the boys right now without…defiling someone’s Jedi weapon. Even if her breath against his ear got him almost as hot as anything, especially knowing she could have just blurted out all the ways the Force could have been with him and wouldn’t care that he might be hiding from work trying to replace this exact saber online. At least that was easier than the goldfish that his ex insisted on because his lecture about death was deemed too specific. He threw the plastic weapon in the closet, where it made a mechanical sound and lit up for a moment. Despite not really knowing what makes the other tick, except in the sweatiest ways, they shared a chuckle for a moment. “That really is Sean’s toy,” he said, caught somewhere unexpected between wise-assed comment and explanation. “ Not really some , um, coming attractions. “ The suggestion excited him, but filled him with a real sense of pressure too. Between her young, lithe body and her buzzing…companion that she pulled out, still warm from her cleavage, Jimmy was so unsure he could keep up, that eventually he didn’t.

“Elena wanted one of those,” he said, just cause who knew what popped into his head when he was this far away from conscious thought, and, fuck it, she was going to wildfire country anyway; maybe she should learn about the ways men could destroy their own wood. But if it would have helped, he’d have bitten his own tongue in half. She might have missed it, though, he thought, puffing up again.(Not quite enough, but enough to keep the whole affair off his personal blooper reel. ) “They’re awfully expensive, though. You know, there are things they say you can’t put a price on, but…sometimes you have to.” He finished lamely, as she mounted him anyway.

In her place, he wouldn’t, but he wasn’t dumb and drunk enough to tell her everything. Still, nobody likes a cheapskate. “Yeah…well, she should have gotten the five-finger discount, then.” He loved the way her hair brushed his face.

“You stole a vibrator.”

“Four.” She said, beaming at her larceny. “I’m kind of…hard on them. I’d say I don’t know why, but we’re both too smart for that. It was no problem. I’m fast…till I’m not.”

“They didn’t catch you?” He would have felt lucky to read that *report* but instead she was here with him. For the first time in months, Jimmy felt that he was living right, whether there were enough batteries in his lightsaber. “Obviously not. Wicked stupid to tell that story otherwise.”

“Good point.”

I'll admit, "all of the toys" had me raising an eyebrow. And then a most excellent payoff with "You stole a vibrator."

A fine study in the art of Chekov's sex toy. (Or was that Ibsen?)

But I'll bet Jimmy knows something about what to do with his hands.

Some of his problems at work are about not letting stuff go. I can't be alone in thinking about that on a recreational basis. Heh, heh, nice payoff with the high-toned literary references.(it could be either, but I think Ibsen would be more overtly proud of it.)

A week before, Jimmy might have found it more upsetting to meet Elena for an early dinner to talk about money and kids’ stuff, might have felt some pressure to bust out the same excuses or make some long-shot pleas for her attention, and, indeed, everything wasn’t completely different. He still woke up alone with a pounding fucking headache in his forehead.

He still wanted to dress to impress for the dinner that evening and taking a long, hot shower made him feel a little better. It wasn’t until he dried off though that he’d noticed “Some other time?” written in what looked like melted red lipstick on his mirrored medicine cabinet. It was both a cheering compliment and something of a rebuke to his detecting skills…not that he worked many cases where he had to spot Ms. Scarlet in the lounge very often, but if he had to, he wanted to think he could do it, not get knocked out after failing to fully pleasure Poison Ivy junior in his sad divorced-dad studio.

He might have actually said “humph”, but at least he had time to iron a shirt for his expected court testimony, only to get there and find that the defense had gotten a continuance. “ Looking good, McNulty,” Ronnie said, her pale cheeks pink. “Did you finally start that workout you’ve been threatening? Sorry for the fool’s errand though.”

“What can I say? I’m a fool for love, Ms. Pearlman. Love of service and nineteen-year-old superheroes.” Ronnie laughed. She had a great laugh, and because of how they met, he didn’t get to hear it very much. " I’ve got you beat, Jimmy. Once you get a date with a man with a bat-signal, even dirty emails as good as yours don’t cut it.”

“How pissed can I be? Time and a half…the second-hottest thing that ever happened in here. And I hoped you liked my e-mails…I was only writing what I know…you, on the other hand, are nasty, Counselor. Like, I was humbled. And not just cause I had to look up some of the Latin.”

“Never change, Jimmy.”

“I don’t plan on it.” It occurred to him that Ronnie thought he was full of it, and that the kindest thing he could do would be to let her think that, however much he daydreamed about Pacific Ocean sand beneath his toes. He couldn’t really go; his life was in Charm City and as much as it must not have showed, he doubted himself after ending with a whimper instead of a bang.

He was early at the corny little Italian place with the wine bottles on the table and the house Chianti. “ "You look nice.” Elena said, but her eyes narrowed as if she found a receipt in his wallet.

“Thank you. Court time. Although I have to come back next week, anyway." He shrugged, and, mercifully shut his piehole. They were a long time away from her digging his On The Job stories, but for the first time in a long time, it didn't hurt much to know that, even practically sober.

“Good. Cause I was gonna say…I think what happened last time made things between us…kind of ambiguous. I don’t think the lack of boundaries is good for us. Or for the boys.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to say that wasn’t why she yelled out his name that night two months ago, but he said. “Yeah, this isn’t for you. Except maybe the court overtime…I might meet somebody after this.”

“ I am, too.”Elena said, not to be outdone. He wouldn't put it past her to snag(or is it snog?) some dude in the parking lot so that she could come out on top for this. Then, he was distracted by the image of her on top...was one of their favorites, but even he could sense the rejection this time and kept his most inscrutable, ticket-writing expression on his face. Purely out of habit, he remembered how much they loved each other when he was really writing tickets. It would almost be worth it... but he let the thought hang.

“That’s good. Friends are good.”

Ooooof. "I don’t think the lack of boundaries is good for us. Or for the boys.” Yeah, she's thinking about it. Run away, Jimmy.

A lot of this feels viscerally familiar, in a way that I can appreciate the writing while the things being described make me want to hide behind the couch. Like a lot of TV I've watched, actually.

On the show she took him back to her place after Parent's Night. He was happy that maybe she took him back. She was like "I think you should be gone before the kids get up." He...kind of has it coming(heh) but still? Harsh.

There was a lull while they ordered, and then again while they had dinner.

“This pasta is too soggy to be al dente. It’s supposed to be firm.”

“Things happen, Elena. Besides, you picked the place.”

“It used to be better…what do you know? Irish cuisine is soda bread—I’m half Italian."

“I know.” Since they weren’t together anymore, Jimmy reasoned that there were a limited number of times he’d have to hear this rant. He smiled a little, but his surprise was genuine when Faith bounded in in her body-hugging pants and kissed Jimmy on his cheek. “Hey, baby.”

Performing these introductions was one of McNulty’s happiest moments either dressed or without handcuffs. “Faith, this is my soon-to-be ex, Elena. Elena, this is my friend, Faith.” “Hello, Elena. I hope I have the guts to wear a skirt that short when I am your age.”

Elena said “Thank you,” but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. She stabbed some salad with her fork as if she was irritated with it.

Jimmy said “Could you give us a moment?”

“Gladly,”

Jimmy led Faith outside, where she thought about bumming a cigarette, but changed her mind.

“You’re welcome. You know, for a detective, you’re surprisingly easy to follow.”

Jimmy replied in the kind of hoarse whisper he used when Michael was about to run out in traffic. “Good to know, considering there’s about to be a three-car pileup at the intersection of Thank You and What The Fuck? What is all that, Faith?”

“Just because I usually don’t play chick games doesn’t mean I don’t know what they are… having a well-lubricated mother teaches you a few things. Besides the little woman looks like a tight-ass.’

“You’d be surprised….I mean…she’s the mother of my children, so I don’t think her ass is any of your business.” “But I think you’re more bent because her ass isn’t any of your business, either. Oh, sure, she’ll probably drop her fork tonight just so you get a glimpse of what she shows the Pilates instructor that she might even be making you pay for…”

“I thought she said it was chiropractic for her repetitive stress,” Jimmy admitted. “But you’re hardly the person to talk about outfits that…promise things.”

She moved in closer. Even after a few weeks, it was still pretty intoxicating. “I don’t just promise. I deliver. Usually. But if you don't let go of her, you'll be the one with the carpal tunnel." Faith made the jerk-off hand gesture probably still beloved by schoolkids and Jimmy still thought she was hot. Which, on some level he knew wasn't playing with a full deck, but there it was.

“Are you…disappointed about, you know. Me? Because…” He felt close to the point where, if he were watching himself in the Box, he might think “Jeez, stop talking, you shit-for-brains,” and this time he could. He guessed that’s what sobriety(Ok, so he wet his beak a little with the so-so chianti, but he wasn’t tempted by it.) gave him that he missed.

“If that bothered you,” he persisted, in that tone that gave Jimmy’s bosses migraines. “Why did you come down here?”

“It wasn’t that far,” Faith replied. “Is that what ‘Smalltimore’ is? Cause I think we know what it isn’t.”

“Thank you. So, why did you?"

"Fun, Jimmy. Remember fun?"

Nice work, erika! Very fun stuff

Thanks! Glad you think so. I love these characters, even if they don't keep a tight grip on their threes.(Jimmy *might* have a pair of threes, but not much more than that.)

More from Faith and Jimmy:

What’s it like?”

“Mmm?” Once again, Jimmy had thought Faith was asleep. He found himself looking at his own hands and wondering about the same thing. “What? To have magic hands?”

“No, although you got the job done well enough…finally.”She sat up in bed and gave him a teasing smile.

“Damned by faint praise.” He replied. “What’s what like? I’m not some kind of moron, but there are limited things that I know., and you’ve seen both the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat…which I’m not gonna go on about so I don’t jinx myself.”

“What’s it like saving people?” For once, Jimmy thought, she was acting her age. Like someone at the tail end of her teens getting excited about starting a new gig. Scrub away some of the mystical crap and she could be an academy, recruit, almost. It made him happy to hear it, but also made him feel really old.

Jimmy frowned. “You don’t really get to do that in Homicide. Maybe a little, if you think long-term and all, but mostly? I doubt I’ve met very many ‘stop me before I kill again’ Hannibal Lecter types. Just people who are stupid or crazy enough to find a really extreme answer to their problems. When I was in uniform, I stopped a purse-snatching once…that was pretty cool.”

“I’ll bet everyone was really impressed.”

“Not really…I was supposed to be at a training about preventing sexual harassment and I pulled over and caught the thief instead. Still not sure I ever finished the class either, but saving an old lady’s grocery money felt more like why we’re here, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.”