Spontaneous Ficsplosion
Jo and Henry are sooooo easy to write for, unlike another certain someone. **cough**
It was the first weekend off she’d had in over a month and they had stayed up late, watching the city lights and drinking some fancy wine Henry had brought up from the basement. He’d told her what it was, but the name alone had made her head spin. The only thing Jo could still remember was that it had been a 46 and something about bodegas, which she seriously doubted he’d bought it from.
Out of long habit Henry was up with the sun, but Jo had simply snuggled into the warm spot on his side of the bed and nodded back off. Now the scent of roasting meat was wafting through the bedroom and making her stomach rumble. Sliding out of bed, she grabbed one of his undershirts from one dresser drawer and a pair of NYPD sweatpants from another. Shrugging into the clothing, she ran a hand through her hair to give it some semblance of order and went to investigate the enticing smell. She was bent over with her head as close to the inside of the open oven as she dared, door in hand, when she heard his voice.
“Why Detective, have you been rifling through my bureau again?” Henry asked with obvious amusement.
“Why yes Doctor, I thoroughly explored you drawers not that long ago,” Jo deadpanned as she closed the oven door and spun around to lean against the nearby counter with a wicked gleam in her eye.
Henry made a show of letting his gaze wander from the top of her tousled head to her bare feet before looking back up to meet her gaze. “Want to do it again?”
“Hmmm… tempting, but food first,” Jo replied, the corners of her mouth turning up in a saucy grin.
“Well you’re in luck. Not only did Abraham save you some cinnamon rolls and coffee, but even with you looking like that,” Henry paused and inclined his head toward her, his eyes darkening. “I’m a patient man my sweet Jo, and I’ve got all the time in the world.”
