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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"That depends why you were naked in the first place," Jack says, darkly. He hadn't had much of a choice, when he'd been trying to keep the chip that proved the Cyprus recording was fake a few years ago.

"You could say that being clothed would give an attacker other things to grab to try and hold you."

"You've clearly given this a lot of thought, haven't you?"

She's struggling to fight off a very obvious grin at this point; he's just so serious about the subject that it's easy for her to be anything but.

"Not a lot of thought." He hesitates for a moment before adding, "A little experience, maybe."

"Shut the front door," Beckett murmurs, the phrase slipping out by near-reflex.

"Well, that's - well."

That gets her a slightly wry smile. "I've surprised you into speechlessness. That's got to be an accomplishment."

"Enjoy it while it lasts, Bauer," she mutters, making a face.

"I'll find a way to turn the tables soon enough."

"It'll be fun to see you try at least."

"You don't want me to go there."

She stabs another forkful of eggs, taking a quick bite, her cheeks hurting from the effort to simultaneously chew and disguise her grin.

"Yeah? Why not?" Jack asks, knowing very well that he's goading her into trying.

"Because."

She prods at her food again, but doesn't lift the fork to her lips.

"I'd win."

Jack looks at her with mild interest, one eyebrow raised.

"Really. And what makes you so sure?"

Edited 2011-01-24 05:34 (UTC)

She leans forward, the prongs of her fork digging into her plate as she spins the other end between her fingers.

"Just a hunch."

"Not every hunch is a good one."

There's a slight headtilt, and she lets the fork drop with a quiet clatter.

"This one's got potential."

"Really." Jack doesn't sound too impressed. "I'd think a plan would be more important."

"Really."

She nudges her plate aside, away, and then rises with every intention of clearing her place - until he speaks again.

"There are a few potential plans at work."

"Feel like sharing any of them?" Jack asks, eating a little more of the eggs. His stomach's feeling a little more receptive now.

She drags her teeth over her lower lip, quickly musing.

"I'm considering it."

"Let me know when you make a decision," he says, giving her a lopsided smile as he takes a sip of his coffee.

She looks down at her plate, at the smattering of eggs and leftover toast crumbs, and debates heading to the sink with it, walking away from the table and effectively, if quietly, conceding defeat.

And then she looks to him - hair mussed slightly, eyes a little less tired around the edges, the soft exhale that follows the sip of coffee - and she can't place a finger on what compels her, only that something does, and she braces her hand against the edge of the table, leaning in and tilting down, closing the distance.

He doesn't immediately notice, until she starts leaning in close. He looks up, eyes widening to give him a slightly deer-in-the-headlights look.

"Uh...Beckett?"

"What, you don't want me to try?" she teases.

Or she attempts to, anyway, and that's how it comes out at first, but the dry chuckle turns into a lump in the back of her throat and her smile fades the longer she looks at him, right up until the second when her eyes close and her lips collide with his in a tentative brush.

At the touch of her lips on his, Jack freezes. Sitting down, with her leaning over him, it's a little difficult to retreat, but the thing is...there's a small part of him that doesn't want to. Underneath the discomfort at having someone in his space, there's a tiny spark of pleasure.

Hesitantly, he leans into the touch, brushing his lips against hers.

She's not sure what she was expecting, but she's fairly certain it wasn't this, not completely - but maybe it's all had to lead to somewhere, and this place is as good as any other she could have considered.

There's a small thrill in it, in the closeness and then in the response as he tilts his face up towards hers, the kiss deepening by default. His mouth is warm, reassuring, and she draws in a quick breath, her lips shifting slowly over his.

Edited 2011-01-25 05:46 (UTC)

There's one brief moment where the past disappears and he remembers what it's like to be able to get this close to someone, to feel this kind of touch again.

And then, just as quickly, something starts to squeeze his chest, warning bells going off in his head. He needs space, before his instincts take over and panic can take over.

He pulls back, trying not to do so too abruptly, though he also pushes his chair back a couple inches to get some breathing room.