One Last Dance | R. Grayson

[15] Acceptance

~ TW: I hate trigger warnings, but well, if any of you don't like reading intimate scenes, then maybe you should skip this chapter. ~

Richard didn't have to wait long to see Erica because the Captain called her to the headquarters to make yet another suspect's sketch.

She looked quite similar to how he had first seen her, with her blonde hair held in a messy bun and her features drawn in concentration as she completed the sketch on her sketchpad. She was utterly and breathtakingly beautiful to him, no matter what the occasion.

"Do you want my car for sightseeing again?" Gary remarked, shaking him out of his thoughts.

"Come on, my car is as good as new now," Richard replied, but the faint flicker of red on his face was enough proof that he understood Gary was trying to tease him.

"Still, if you ever need anything, you know where to find me."

Gary left, but Richard stayed in the evidence cell for some time, recollecting his thoughts before stepping out. A few hours were left before his shift ended, and if Erica was still there by then, he would offer to drive her back home.

Luckily for him, Erica stayed, and when he got free, she just stepped out of the Captain's office.

"I hear you're getting off your shift by now," she remarked, standing close to him.

"I am. Shall I drive you back home?"

"Sure. Thank you."

He ignored the cheeky little thumbs up his friend Gary sent his way, accompanying Erica to the elevator that led to the parking lot. An awkward silence gripped them as there were two cops in the elevator aside from them.

By the time they got to the parking lot and Richard led her to his car, she finally spoke up, "I see, your car has been repaired."

"Yeah, I got it back this week."

"That's great. I've heard men are really fond of their cars."

He chuckled, opening the door for her as usual, "I have a Porsche back home and I never let it get a scratch. My brothers say I treat it like I would treat my own child."

Richard seldom talked about Gotham, which intrigued Erica. What was his home like? How was his family faring in the city that she had heard so many bad things about from the rest of the people?

He was from Gotham, yet he was strikingly different from her perception of a Gothamite. It almost made her want to know more about his life in the city of crime.

Soon enough, they had reached Erica's building. Richard didn't want to leave just yet, and neither did Erica as she offered, "If you don't have anything else to do, you can come up."

"Oh... Yeah, I am free."

Her hands gently hooked through his arm as they went into the building together. He knew by then that Erica was very affectionate, and she showed her appreciation for the person she was with through little physical touches.

With Richard, it was the way she held his arm each time they walked together. Or how she would sometimes reach up to fix his cap or brush the dust off his blazer.

He liked every little touch that showed she was comfortable with him. It made him feel that she really didn't mind having him close to her.

One thing that was common in both of them was that they wanted to be valued and cherished by the people close to them. They did so much for others but all they really needed was genuine appreciation in return.

It was a good thing that they were alike in that case. Neither of them would ever feel left out by the other if they got together.

Erica let go of his arm when they reached the door to her apartment, and she took out the key from her purse to unlock it. Once they were inside, she switched on the lights, placing her bag and sketchpad aside.

"What would you like to have? Tea, coffee, maybe orange juice?"

"Nothing. You don't have to treat me like a guest," he replied, a soft smile playing on his lips.

She paused, a lovely pink hue taking over her face as she asked, "How do you want me to treat you then?"

"However you like."

His gentle smile and loving blue eyes encouraged her to step closer, and she hooked her fingers into the lapels of his blazer. "However I like?"

He hummed in reply, hands gently pulling her close by the waist as his eyes flickered to her lips. Her heart beat faster, but his beautiful blue eyes held her in a spell that she didn't want to break out of.

And just like that, she leaned closer, sealing her lips with his. All the overwhelming confusion and mixed thoughts she had about giving Richard a chance melted away in that kiss until only he was there in front of her.

She realized that nothing else mattered.

The past didn't matter, the time didn't matter, nor did the reason she had invited him to her apartment in the first place. All that mattered was his lips on hers, his hands in her hair and on her waist, and his heartbeat going erratic under her very fingertips.

She lost track of everything else that followed as she accepted his presence around her and his importance in her life. She couldn't let go of him. Not yet, not too soon, or, in fact, not ever.

They ended up in her bedroom, but she didn't tell him to stop. Despite him making sure that she didn't feel they were going too fast, she reciprocated each kiss, each touch, and each word that only pointed in one direction.

She thought of him again as an expensive liquor that she would willingly consume and let herself be intoxicated by. It seemed as if he had the same thoughts, for his kisses turned deeper and more unrestrained.

When he pulled apart briefly, his blue eyes looked down into hers, a flush rising to his face as he took in their partially undressed bodies.

Her hands reached up to cup his face, fingers gently tracing the outline of his lips. "Why did you stop?"

"I wanted to make sure that I am not making you uncomfortable."

Her light laugh resonated around them as she propped herself on her elbows. Their faces were so close to each other that their noses were almost touching.

"You know what, Richard?" Her fingers curled at his messy hair teasingly, "Michelangelo would be so jealous of me right now."

"What?" He paused, recalling who Michelangelo was, and then burst into laughter. She said it to him as a compliment, and it was a rather generous compliment coming from an artist.

"So, you're not making me uncomfortable," she smiled, closing the minuscule gap between them with a kiss, "and I want you to carry on."

***