Work Text:
jj maybank was in trouble.
not the usual trouble that he got himself into. no, this was a completely different kind of trouble. one that centered solely around pope heyward.
or more specific to the moment, pope heyward’s god damn arms.
jj’s eyes followed pope as he bent to grab another crate of groceries to deliver to some assholes on figure eight. pope had taken his shirt off a while ago, the sun beating down on him and the humidity becoming too much and allowing jj to watch the flex of his arms and back unobstructed.
jj continued to watch pope, his cheek propped up with one hand, the other holding a pen that he was supposed to be using to keep track of the orders that pope called out to him. the tip of the pen had been pressed to the paper he was using for about five minutes now and had bled all over it, making the orders that he’d managed to write down before pope took his shirt off almost completely illegible.
a hand clapped down on the back of jj’s neck, causing him to freeze and stop breathing before the owner of the voice bent down to whisper in his ear.
“why are you so thirsty?” john b asked, his voice smug at having caught jj unaware.
jj rolled his eyes, finally looking away from pope.
“dude, have you seen his arms?” jj asked, with just the slightest bit of a whine in his voice.
john b laughed, the sound catching pope’s attention. he looked over at them, his brows furrowed in question. jj waved him off, hoping that his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. john b continued to grin as he took a seat next to jj on the picnic table’s bench seat. pope just shrugged and turned back and bent over to grab the next crate.
jj threw the pen down onto the table, his head following soon after, the thump it made covered by john b’s laughter.