Blue flame - A Dark Blue fanfiction

I own nothing, not “Dark Blue”, not Dean, not Jamie, I am just borrowing them.
Slight spoilers for “Ice” i guess although really it could be anywhere in season one.
Dean / Jamie

They are so close, her hair is ticking his nose. His breath comes in short sharp bursts as her fingers skim the cuts on his arm, his chest, his stomach. Her eyes are almost black, her breath hot on his neck and he kisses her because it is too painful not to. 

He is used to shadowing people, covertly checking them out, clocking all activity, present and immediate future. He is used to blending in, shedding personalities and personal histories like a snake’s skin, living in the fringes with only the law held up as absolute. He can read people in a couple of minutes, take their goals and dreams and sell it back to them to get the result,  to make the bust,  to close the deal. His life depends on this skill.

He cannot read her at all.


His tongue trails down to her collarbone, fingers unbuttoning her shirt, pushing her bra to the side. He picks her up, hands round her ass, pulling her into him.

He knows what he wants and why he wants it. You have to know yourself completely to work undercover, he thinks, strengthens and weaknesses. You have to have complete faith in your beliefs as otherwise the next assignment could be the one to turn you, or be the one to break you.

He doesn’t understand what he wants when he watches her button up her shirt and turn away.


His hand slips down her back. He nips her lip as she bucks up to meet his thrust, quietly groaning into his mouth. The only sound to be heard is the rhythmic pounding of the springs in the mattress.

He is strong for this job, dependant on nothing but himself. He has to listen to lowlifes spew out crap all day long, stupid selfish excuses, as to why, how, who made them this way and he cannot let this change his beliefs. He has snorted coke, e’s, Ketamin, the lot, week after week after week, to befriend the right contact and get it across the line. No rehab, no counselling, just Carter raising his eyebrow to check if all is good in Dean’s world before asking him to do it all again.

He can’t stop. He knows she lives with Scott, that she goes home to Scott, curls around Scott’s body, kisses Scott’s lips, fucks Scott’s cock. He cannot give her up.


He sucks her pulse point, she arches her neck to give him better access, taking her face away from him. His hands palm her breast, fingers roll her nipple.

He is incorruptible, Dean toes that line right down the edge but never crosses it. As a UC he plays with people’s feelings but only for the case, never for personal benefit. He, and Ty and Carter and every other UC out there has wined and dined perps and innocent contacts to get the mark but never further. Never back to bed, never under the sheets. He exploit people’s weaknesses for a case but never on his own time. He is proud of the fact that he has never lied to a girl, a one night stand or girlfriend, he says it how it is, does not embellish and if he thinks the girl can not handle it, he walks away. 

Her boyfriend has dumped her and her first lead case has gone horribly wrong, Ruben is dead and he turns up at her place, gets her drunk and fucks her.


Tongues and teeth, blunt nails grasp sweaty skin, calloused hands caress bruises softly. His mouth swallows her throatily cries as his finger presses at her core bringing her down, down into the mindless passion, with him.

The team is everything. They are your safety net, your recon and your backup. In an operation the three of them function as one, granted different arms but the same collective body, only Carter can afford to  hide his thoughts and endgame. The three of them, the foot soldiers, always share the game plan, when one partner goes off script, well that is when bad things happen. Trust in this dysfunctional three way is paramount, Dean and Ty have years of UC between them, they know each other backwards and Jamie, newbie though she is, slots smoothly into their partnership.

He watches her face when Noemi enters the kitchen in his shirt, fresh from his bedroom, watches her shut down. He hates the flash of hurt he causes but hates the powerlessness she causes more. He’s standing on quicksand, why shouldn’t she.


Faster and harder, he pounds into her until he feels her tense up, all of her body clings to him and he tries to make it last, he tries to draw it out, prolong it as much as possible but it is never enough and he comes hard.

As part of Carter’s team, Dean doesn’t have to work with as many guidelines and departmental regulations as other cops but they do have their code. Always prevent murder. Don’t injure anyone unless they pose an imminent risk to you or anyone else.  Always protect and be honest with the team. Close the case air tight, no loose ends, and no actions that can jeopardise the legitimacy of the bust. Do not mix business with pleasure, ever. Dean had followed Carter’s rules, they were the black and white in his grey world.

She looked at him, half closed eyes alight with desire, swaying her body for less than half a song and he was up, kissing her, lying for her, covering for her, breaking for her.

He lies on top of her, still in her, ear to ear, sweat coating their bodies and kisses her shoulder.