Breathless | David Rossi

Chapter Seven

The feeling of being cramped wakes you, the need to roll over and stretch out compelling you. Only, when you roll over, you come in contact with a wall. Or more so, a body. "Hi." You croak, opening your eyes to find a dark brown pair staring down at you.

"Hi." Rossi smiles, resting his arm behind his head.

Glancing past him to the window, "What time is it?" It's dark, yet a little light in the sky indicating sundown or sunup.

"Just past six pm. I tried to wake you when we landed but you were passed out." He muses. "Must have been pretty exhausted."

You roll your eyes, knowing what he's hinting at. "Yeah, not like I was thrown out of a window and nearly choked, or anything."

At the mention of the last case, Rossi's face hardens, his eyes instantly dropping to your neck. You become aware of yourself, glancing down to find one of Rossi's shirts around you. Lifting your head, you trail your gaze up his bare chest, releasing a breath as you meet his eyes.

"Your mind's running on you, Bello."

Handsome

The word slips out before you can even think, having wanted to give him a pet name considering he's given you plenty. You can't see the little smile he tries to hide, his cheeks heating up as his free hand slips under you, pulling you to him. Resting your hand on his chest, his heart pounds against his ribs, his breathing becoming heavier. You suppress the smirk that tugs on the corners of your lips.

You have so much power over David Rossi, and you love it.

"David," You sit up, tenderly gripping his chin and forcing him to look at you. A sigh escapes your lips as you take in his face, the raw emotion hidden in his eyes. "Talk to me, don't shut down."

In the years that you've been friends with Rossi, you learnt that he compartmentalises everything, choosing to keep quiet rather than talk. Slowly but surely, you broke down those walls with him, having a few drinks whilst he shares whatever is on his mind.

It's what makes this more than just sex between you two. At the end of the day, your friends that open up and already know so much about each other.

Rossi opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Whatever it is, he's really struggling to tell you, and it makes you worry. "I thought you were dead." He croaks. "The way he was talking, I knew it was only going to end with one of you dead and then that gun went off. I held my breath, just waiting for someone to speak, for you to tell me that you were okay."

He pauses, his hand reaching up to cup the side of your head. "I care about you Y/N, and I care about what happens to you." You lean into his touch, your hand covering his, your thumb caressing his wrist bone.

"I care about you too David." You slide back down, wrapping your arms around him as he turns over to bury his head in the crook of your neck. "And I don't die easy." You murmur, running a hand through his hair.

Rossi visibly relaxes, his bodyweight shifting to lean half on top of you and wrap an arm over your stomach, completely securing you to him. Releasing a breath, you find yourself glancing up at the ceiling, your mind clear of any thoughts as you just lay there.

You're not sure how much time passes, Rossi turning to lay on his stomach though still pressing his side against yours. Glancing over at the clock, you wince at the time, midnight. You know you're not going to get any sleep, having slept on the plane and then some.

At the sound of your stomach grumbling, you quietly slip out of Rossi's bed, padding down to the kitchen. Opening his cupboard, you look around for anything you could make, settling on one of the many pasta sauces. It's very similar to the one your mother would use, putting you in the mood for her famous pasta.