trigger_man | (no subject)

(no subject)

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.

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She watches him for a moment, hands resting in her lap.

"I probably don't need to ask how you're feeling right now, because I think I already know the answer."

Jack takes a tiny sip of the water to wash the tablets down, then leans back against the headboard, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand.

"Feels like someone's used my head as a punching bag. I'm guessing you were thinking something along those lines."

"Something like that."

She casts another glance toward the bottle.

"Bet those'll help, though."

"Yeah, once they kick in. You didn't have to stay, you know," he says before he can realize how ungrateful that sounds.

"That's what I kept thinking last night," she confesses, looking down at her hands.

"And somehow I never actually managed to convince myself."

Jack looks over at her curiously. "Why's that?"

She chuckles, shoulders rolling forward slightly.

When she looks up: "Do you even need to ask?"

Now it's Jack's turn to give her a look. "I've been way more drunk than that before, Beckett. Not recently," he adds quickly, before she starts to worry even more.

She lifts an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything on that subject.

"You've stuck around for me before."

"You know I'm not gonna keep score," he says with a grumble, but even as he says it, he knows that's not why she stayed.

"Neither am I," she says, and there's nothing but honesty in the words.

Everything else - well, it goes without saying.

"Did you sleep on the couch?" he asks. His not remembering her sleeping next to him isn't really much evidence to go on. Nor is her coming in from the other room when he woke up; she could have gotten up earlier.

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.

"Yeah, I crashed there," she replies, stretching again - there's a brief cracking sound in her shoulders when she rolls them, but it's not due to the sleeping situation being uncomfortable in any way.

"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."

"Probably safer for you, too. I don't usually get so drunk that I puke, but there's a first time for everything."

Attractive, Jack. Really attractive.

"Besides, it makes waking up less awkward."

Less of that oh-shit-what-did-we-do-last-night panic.

She fights off a grin at that, ducking her head to try and hide it, though it might slip out before she can turn.

"Would you be worried about something like that?"

"Hard to say what I'd think that split second after waking up, but I could do without the heart attack." Especially with the way his head's pounding.

"Well, we'll try to avoid that at all costs," she murmurs.

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.

"Sounds like a plan. Did you sleep all right at least?" Jack asks.

"Fine," she says, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Better than I expected to. That couch is surprisingly comfy."

"Maybe shouldn't be surprising considering where we are. I've slept pretty well on that couch more than once." Pretty well for him, at least.

"Then again if I'm remembering last night correctly you had a drink or two, which probably helped too."

"A little."

She'll admit that much, even as she looks up from her lap.

"Then again, if I'm remembering last night correctly, I wasn't the one Bar cut off."

"Yeah. Think I remember that part," Jack says, rubbing his forehead. "I don't think Bar usually lets me have any more than I did last night."

"Good," she says, keeping her voice quiet.

"Someone's got to look out for you when I - "

Beckett pauses, clearing her throat.

"When I'm busy."

"When you can't, basically."

Oh yeah, that's a Look pointed in her direction.

"I don't need a babysitter, Beckett."

"I know you can take care of yourself. It's not a question of that, it's - "

She's trying not to backtrack, and somehow it's already happening.

"I didn't mean that the way it came out."