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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"Yeah, right."

He takes another sip of his coffee, trying to remember exactly what they'd talked about they night before. Or more importantly, whether he'd said anything embarrassing.

"I didn't say anything really stupid last night, did I?"

"Not that I can remember," she admits, shrugging briefly.

"I'd had a couple myself by that point. Recalling the finer points of conversation is a little harder to manage once that happens."

He's not sure how much of a straight answer she'd give him if she did remember all of their conversation the night before, but decides to take her at her word. It's at least the easier version to live with.

"Yeah, it's one of the benefits, as long as everyone around you is just as tipsy as you are."

Does she want to remember? If she thinks back hard enough, she probably can. But given the expression in his eyes, the look of - what, exactly? Fear, that she'll come back to it herself?

Maybe she doesn't want to.

"I think you were doing circles around me by the end."

"I think the room was probably doing circles around me by the time we came up here." At least that's what the hangover certainly makes it feel like.

He's about to take another sip of coffee when his stomach rumbles loudly.

Loudly enough for Beckett to overhear, too, while she's mid-sip.

"Hungry now?"

"I guess so," Jack says a little warily, as he's not sure his stomach won't change its mind once he actually smells food. "I take it from that other covered plate, you brought breakfast up for me, too."

"Nope," Beckett says, completely straight-faced, even as she walks over to pick up the plates. They're still warm, and she sets down one in front of him, heading back to the counter for the silverware.

"I was just really hungry."

"Don't tell me you're eating for two," Jack says, his tone wry.

"And when would I have had the opportunity to go and do that, exactly?"

She's deliberately holding the silverware just out of reach.

"You have to have some time off in your world. Though really, I don't think I want to know. That's part of your private life you can feel free to keep to yourself."

"Believe me, they're not exactly details I'd be broadcasting," she mutters, setting the silverware down on the table and taking a seat again.

"Yeah, I can see that."

Jack grabs a fork, poking at the eggs for a moment before playing it safe and going for the toast. It's pretty plain, but his stomach doesn't immediately reject it at least.

"If I feel this bad after a couple drinks, I have to wonder how I survived college."

Beckett very nearly snorts into her coffee.

"Don't tell me you were a partier, Jack."

"Not a lot. I had to stay on top of my work and ROTC commitments so I could keep my funding, but every couple weekends, maybe."

He cradles the cup of coffee in his hands, looking up at her. "What about you? Were you the perfect student or did you run wild before deciding to be a cop?"

He has his suspicions.

Rather than answer his question directly, she smirks behind her coffee - even if the expression does travel upward to her eyes.

"You tell me."

Jack thinks for a moment. "I think you were a pretty good student overall, but you had your wild moments every so often. I don't think I can see you being either extreme."

She nods. He's got her pretty pegged.

"The things you don't know about me could fill a - "

Wait. Damn it, Castle.

" - book you've already read," she finishes, "though I wouldn't exactly use it as your reference guide to all things Beckett."

"Don't worry, I don't. Besides, it's not exactly a biography. There's only so much background he can fit in around the mystery."

Jack gives her a small smile over the rim of his coffee cup. "Though do you really like Pixar movies that much?"

For a beat, she doesn't say anything at all - and then, she stabs at her eggs.

"No comment."

"Yes, in other words. Not that I think that's a bad thing."

He'll deny it until the end of his days, but he got a little choked up watching Finding Nemo when he stumbled over it on TV a couple years after it came out.

She smiles slowly.

"You, too? Never would've guessed."

Jack gives her a look. "I've seen one or two. Both times when my daughter wanted to see them."

"Admit it."

The smile is starting to grow.

"You found yourself liking them too, towards the end."

Jack looks down at his plate, poking at his eggs again before finally raising a forkful to his lips. "No comment."