It's the pounding in his head that wakes him the following morning, and for a moment he has that stomach-roiling panic of where am I why does my head hurt--
That is, until he realizes the real reason his head feels like someone's tried to bash it in and it's not just panic making him feel close to puking. If there's one thing Jack's pretty familiar with, it's a hangover.
Even just the light coming through his eyelids gives him the sensation of an ice pick being stabbed into his brain, and so he slowly rolls away from the window, curling into a ball with a moan and wishing the rest of the world would just go away already.
That is, until he realizes the real reason his head feels like someone's tried to bash it in and it's not just panic making him feel close to puking. If there's one thing Jack's pretty familiar with, it's a hangover.
Even just the light coming through his eyelids gives him the sensation of an ice pick being stabbed into his brain, and so he slowly rolls away from the window, curling into a ball with a moan and wishing the rest of the world would just go away already.
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She had every intention of leaving, originally. Leaving him to the inevitable hangover and the disorientation that comes the morning after a night of too much to drink, but something had stopped her before she could put a hand on the doorknob. And the couch had been comfier than at first glance, and after wrapping herself up on a blanket, she'd drifted off in no time at all.
She's still here, now, dozing lightly, fading in and out as morning light streams through the living room windows and starts coaxing her from sleep.
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Unfortunately for Jack he's not exactly the most coordinated at the moment. While he manages to get the drawer open and the bottle out of the drawer, he fumbles it trying to close the drawer again and it falls to the floor, rolling away with a protracted rattle.
Jack's croaking a curse probably doesn't help Beckett drop back into sleep either.
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She pushes the blanket off and sits up slowly, pushing messy hair away from her face, and stands, shuffling across the floor in socked feet and towards the bedroom door, still left slightly ajar from the night before.
It creaks quietly when she nudges it open, peeking in just in time to see the bottle come to a stop in the middle of the floor and Jack, lying across the bed in something resembling a helpless ball with the sheets tangled around him. In spite of herself, she cracks a slow smile.
"Morning."
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Once the tidal wave of pain has passed, he squints up at her. "Beckett. What're you doing here?"
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"I sort of never left," she admits, sitting on the edge of the bed.
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"Okay, so it's not," Beckett replies, eyes narrowing as she gives him a look.
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"Thanks," he says, as he sits up a little and reaches for the glass of water.
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"I probably don't need to ask how you're feeling right now, because I think I already know the answer."
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"Feels like someone's used my head as a punching bag. I'm guessing you were thinking something along those lines."
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She casts another glance toward the bottle.
"Bet those'll help, though."
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"And somehow I never actually managed to convince myself."
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When she looks up: "Do you even need to ask?"
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"You've stuck around for me before."
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Everything else - well, it goes without saying.
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But then somehow he has the feeling that Beckett wouldn't sleep in the same bed as him without checking that he's okay with it first. His memory of everything they discussed the night before is a little hazy in some places, but he's pretty sure sleeping arrangements wasn't one of the topics they covered.
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"Besides, I know how it is, morning after - it's nice to have a little space to breathe and wake up on your own, even if you feel like hell."
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Attractive, Jack. Really attractive.
"Besides, it makes waking up less awkward."
Less of that oh-shit-what-did-we-do-last-night panic.
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"Would you be worried about something like that?"
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Especially since she'd seen him in the grip of something similar before, struggling to breathe, fighting against the urge to panic -
It's not something she's eager to repeat, and she doesn't doubt he feels the same.
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