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⚠️ WARNING⚠️
Y'all... brace yourself because it's gonna be smoochy and worth a read.
Enjoy!
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Upon reaching the park, John parked his truck on a grassy area close to the entrance, the sound of crunching gravel marking their arrival.

He exited the vehicle and walked over to her side, offering his strong hands to assist her in stepping down from the truck's elevated height.

As she stepped out, the aroma of the surrounding tall pine trees mixed with the subtle, earthy scent of nearby water greeted her senses. She watched as John reached into the back of the truck, retrieving two fishing rods and a small, weathered tackle box that had endured many summers.

Charlie walked right behind him (and close by his side) as he guided her to a quiet area by the water, far from the bustling crowd of the park.

The spot offered a stunning view of the lake, its glass-like surface sparkling under the bright afternoon sun. Soft ripples skimmed across the water, mirroring hues of blue and green, creating an inviting atmosphere for relaxation. She watched John assemble the fishing rod with a calm, assured manner, as if he knows what he's doing.

"Here," he said, handing her a rod after he fixed hers first.

Charlie took the rod, and they cast out together.

The line flew out, landing with a soft plop in the water. She stood there, holding the rod. John was at peace. But Charlie wasn't used to this kind of quiet—the kind that demanded nothing from you but your thoughts. The last time she fished with him; it was light and fun. But now, it was different.

"I know something is bothering you, Charlotte," John said nonchalantly. "You're quiet like a mouse."

She glanced at him, startled. "Me?"

"You," he repeated without looking at her. "Do you want to talk?"

Her grip tightened on the rod. She shook her head and said, "No, I'm okay."

But he wasn't buying it. His eyes locked onto hers, dark and hungry, but he didn't say another word, just turned back to the water. It wasn't long before Charlie felt a strong pull on her line. Her heart leaped as she gripped the rod tighter, trying to reel it in.

"Oh!" she called, her voice laced with mix of surprise and panic. "I think I've got it!"

John turned his brows furrowing as he saw her struggling with the rod. "Easy, love. Don't yank too hard."

But the fish—or how huge it was—pulled harder, and when the rod jerked forward. Charlie lost her footing. With a startled yelp, she tumbled into the icy water. It swallowed her, pulling her under before she broke the surface with a desperate gasp. The cold bit into her skin like a thousand tiny needles and her limbs felt sluggish as the lake's grip tried to drag her down. Panic consumed her, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as she flailed, trying to keep her head above the surface.

"Ah-John!" she shouted, her voice breaking as the icy water drowned out her call. Her drenched clothing weighed her down, making it even more difficult to keep her head above water.

"Char-shit!" John exclaimed as he dashed towards the edge, quickly discarding his rod and his extra jacket. Wasting no time, he plunged into the lake. The frigid water hit him like a jolt, wrapping around him and igniting a fire in his muscles. Each stroke he took was driven to reach her. "Stop moving! I've got you!"

She couldn't respond, her teeth chattering too hard to form words. Her eyes locked onto him, desperation shining through the fear. John closed the distance in a few powerful strokes, grabbing her upper chest just below her collarbone with one hand to keep her head above water. His other arm hooked around her waist, securing her against him as he returned toward the shore.

"Hold on to me," he ordered, rough and commanding.

She clung to him, her nails digging into his hoodie as she buried her face against his shoulder.

The icy water persistently splashed against them, yet John pushed onward through the intense cold. Every kick and stroke burned his muscles, but he refused to slow his pace. His sole focus was to get her out of the water. Once they reached the shore, John dragged her onto the grass. He hugged her tight and helped her sit beside him.

After she let go of him, she trembled and her teeth clattered.

"Are you okay?" he asked, crouching before her. His eyes scanned her for any signs of injury. But he noticed the tears welled in her eyes as she looked at him.

"I'm sorry," she said in almost a whisper.

John frowned. "What are you sorry for?"

She shook her head, her tears spilling from her eyes.

"I..." she trailed off, her body was trying to fight off the cold that was biting her. "I didn't mean to step out of line earlier... and about Michael."

His expression softened, and he sighed.

"Charlie," he said quietly. "I'm not mad at you, okay? There's nothing to be sorry for."

She shook her head frantically.

"No, John. I'm just... " she stammered, her voice breaking. "Michael isn't the type who would leave things alone until he gets what he wanted..."

John exhaled deeply, his hand brushing damp hair strands from her face.

"Look at me," he murmured, his voice softer now. "You're safe with me. Alright?"

She reached to him and her fingers clutched at his hoodie. Burying her face against him, her tears soaking into the fabric. He could listen to her sniff for a brief moment of silence. She didn't say anything, but John could feel the weight of her emotions—the fear and the worry. But when his warmth seeped through her, grounding her as her panic began to ebb away. Keeping her close, her body shook and he stroked her back.

"Still cold?"

Charlie nodded. She watched as he got up and swiftly walked over to grab his spare jacket. Sitting with her knees pulled up to her chin, she waited. He returned and gently wrapped the spare jacket around her shoulders, then settled next to her to share warmth. When he smiled at her, it made her heart ache.

Without thinking, John leaned in and gently kissed the top of her damp hair. She closed her eyes, clutching his spare like she was unwilling to let go. His rough thumb brushed against her cool cheek before he lifted her chin with a fingertip, bringing their faces just inches apart.

"You're okay," he murmured gently.

Charlie nodded and said meekly, "okay."

Her heart was pounding, and she longed to calm it. Her hands rested limply in her lap. Then, his gaze shifted to her lips and eyes, and he gently stroked her cheek with his thumb.

"Be very still," he whispered as if she wasn't frozen.

She nodded again, and held her breath.

John tilted his head and kissed her.

It was slower—as if taking time to relish her than how he kissed her back at his apartment.

With his rough hands cupping her cheeks, using his thumb to wipe away more of the cold droplets from her skin. His tongue slid into her mouth, claiming her with a hunger that made her moan.

In under a minute, his hand drifted down to her waist, drawing her nearer as though the distance was unbearable. The coarseness of his beard grazed her soft skin. As he pulled back, his warm breath swept over her lips. His eyes locked onto hers, silent. Her cheeks flushed, but she didn't look away either.

"Charlotte," he murmured huskily, her name rolling off his tongue like a confession.

She swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. "Yes..."

"I want you to know that..." he paused and sighed, his voice deep and raspy. "I've wanted this for a while now."

"You do?" She blinked, eyes widened.

Inching closer, he kissed her again. One of his thumb traced her cheekbone as he tucked a loose, damp strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yes," he said firmly. "You make me want more."

Her heart hammered and she couldn't find anymore words to add. Instead, she laced her fingers through his, pressing her palms against his hands together. He leaned in again, this time more slowly, giving her a chance to pull away if she wanted to. But Charlie didn't want to stop him.

His lips captured hers once more and his hand slid down to her waist, while her fingers curled into his hoodie, overwhelmed by what was happening between them. His kiss were deep and hungry, as if he'd been longing for this moment as much as she had. His tongue explored her mouth, teasing and tasting every corner.

Each time his beard scraped against her soft skin, she let her defenses drop. Charlie gasped and she tried to calm her nerves as she wanted this.

Slowly he drew back, eyes dark with want as they searched her face.

"I shouldn't feel this," he growled almost. "But I have six weeks with you and I will be leaving soon."

Her heart stopped.

"What?" she said, almost in whisper.

He closed his eyes and exhaled softly through his nose. He opened his eyes again. "It's another job to do."

"But..."

"You don't have to worry," he said, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "I'll make time with you while I handle Harkin. He has a lot to be uncovered. Hopefully Diane should be back before I leave to deploy at Prague."

Charlie was silent. She blinked twice before lowering her gaze. Then, she looked away.

"Hey," John gently tilted her gaze to him. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head more while biting her bottom lip—not minding how it affects him. She finally looked at him and said, "I don't want you to leave."

He gazed at her for a brief seconds and let out a sigh.

After pulling away, he sat down beside her, one arm resting on his knee while the other leg was crossed over it. John looked off into the distance.

She blinked and pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on her arms. "It's not fair that you have to leave soon," Charlie said.

"Life's not fair, love," John replied. "Sometimes all you can do is keep moving forward until you reach the end."

Charlie looked at him. "Isn't it?"

He gave a shrug. "That's what my mother always told me."

She laughed softly, almost breathlessly, and turned her gaze away. "Seems like she knew what she was talking about."

"That it is," John said, offering her a small smile.

She glanced away brief moments before turning her attention back to him. Observing his damp hair with strands cascading over his forehead, she could vividly imagine the sensation of threading her fingers through it once more, but she decided not to linger on the thought.

"I don't get it," she started. "We've been seeing each other... and..."

He chuckled heartily.

"Love, anything can happen to me," he continued, moving his gaze to her. "I don't expect you to wait for me either. I want you to live your life."

At those words, she felt an icy fist close around her heart. The thought of losing him made her heart clench even more.

"Is that what you want?" She asked, unable to keep the tremor from her voice.

John hesitated. The muscles in his jaw flexing until he finally said, "What I want doesn't matter."

Her breath caught in her throat until she breathed softly. She reached for his hand, twining her fingers through his. His palm was rough, calloused, yet infinitely gentle as he squeezed her hand in return.

"It matters to me," she whispered.

John finally glanced at her.

Before she had a chance to react, he pulled her in close. His strength was evident as he lifted her onto his lap, her knees framing his hips. Charlie gasped, clutching his shoulders for balance.

"What are you—" she blurted, her cheeks flushing.

"Taking advantage of you," he replied simply, his hands resting on her waist.

A light, breathless laugh escaped Charlie. "You're something else," she said.

"Am I?" he teased, raising one eyebrow as his signature smirk reappeared.

She opened her mouth to protest, but her words were stifled when his lips brushed the curve of her neck, making her gasp softly. Her laughter dissolved into a soft gasp as his beard grazed her skin, sending a shiver down her spine.

"John," she whispered again, her voice barely audible.

"Mmhmm?" His lips hovered near her ear, his warm breath teasing her skin as he kissed her cheek.

"I don't want you to leave," she protested again, her fingers gripping his shoulders even tighter.

He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes with a somber smile. "I have to."

Then, he kissed her again.

"Six weeks," he murmured as he separated a little but held her close. "That's all we've got."

Charlie nodded, her fingers lightly trailing over his beard. He kissed her again, his lips moving steadily against hers as if he were memorizing every detail—the shape of her mouth, her taste, the way she melted into him. She had never experienced a kiss like this.

Before she could fully comprehend, he deepened the kiss, tilting his head and parting her lips with his own.

A gasp escaped her as his tongue danced with hers in a way that quickened her heartbeat—like she'd been running in slow motion. His fingers curled around her waist as he kissed with a fervor that left no room for hesitation.

Her mind reeled as heat spread through her stomach.

Without thinking, her fingers traced the edge of his jaw, timidly at first, then she explored him.

His beard was coarse, yet his firm, intentional kiss sent shivers down her spine. A soft whimper escaped her against his lips, making him tighten her more before pulling away. His breathing was uneven, and he rested his forehead against hers.

"We'll make it count," he said breathily.

Charlie nodded and tried to catch her breath. Her chest rising and falling while her heart was pounding. He mirrored her breathlessness. His warm breath fanned over her lips as he closed his eyes briefly in an attempt to regain composure. She opened her eyes and swallowed hard.

"How long will you be gone?" she asked in a breathy tone.

Meeting her gaze with an unreadable look that soon softened, John replied quietly, "I don't know. It depends on what the job demands."

The uncertainty twisted in her stomach. Though his tone sounded almost nonchalant, she needed to know exactly what kind of job he was taking on.

"I need you to trust me, love," he said, cupping her cheeks. "Can you do that?"

She searched his face, wanting to ask why, but all she found was sincerity in his eyes. Nodding, her fingers brushed his beard one last time before settling on his chest.

"Okay," she said.

John smiled at her last. "Good girl."

Before she could say anything, he kissed her again—this time softer.