Actions

Work Header

Rating:
Archive Warnings:
Category:
Fandom:
Relationship:
Characters:
Additional Tags:
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:
2011-06-16
Words:
1,865
Chapters:
1/1
Comments:
4
Kudos:
97
Bookmarks:
10
Hits:
1,537

never let me hit the ground

Summary:

"He'd wanted her desperately from the first moment she barreled into his life, colorful and bright and everything he wasn't." Jess/Becker, 1900ish words, post-ep for 5x04.

Notes:

I've wanted to write something for these two for a while, so I hope it suits them! Thanks to torigates on LJ for the beta. Title taken from "Parachute" by Ingrid Michaelson.

Work Text:

Becker circles the block that the hospital's on five times before cursing under his breath and heading back to the ARC. They have weeks of work ahead of them to repair the damage done by Connor's anomaly - there's a phrase he never thought he'd use - and he's got no time to waste hovering around Jess's bedside. It's just an allergic reaction, something she's had before and knows how to handle. He'll only get in the way.

Still, he makes two illegal U-turns on the ten minute drive back to the ARC, one headed back to the hospital and one after he mutters "get it together, for Christ's sake" and heads back in the proper direction.

He passes Abby in the parking structure when he finally makes it to the ARC, Rex's carrier clutched in her right hand. "I'm not leaving him here, not after today," she says defensively, as if he's going to argue the point.

"How is it in there?" he asks, as it's the first thing he can think to ask that isn't to do with a field coordinator who just so happens to be Abby's roommate.

"Horrendous. Lester's on a rampage, no shock there. And the guys are..." she trails off, her eyes shifting to the ground. "Well. It's a mess." Abby goes to load Rex into the back seat of her car. "Jess is home," she adds casually, but Becker doesn't miss her glance toward his face. "The doctor said she was fine, just needs some rest. You got the EpiPen to her just in time," she stresses.

"Well," he says, wishing he had something to do with his hands besides shove them in his pockets, "glad to hear it. Tell her I said to get well soon, yeah?"

"Becker," Abby calls after him as he turns to walk away. "She'd like to see you. She said as much."

He turns back. "I'll come 'round in a few days. I've got to get down to the armory, see what we're dealing with."

"Come off it," she says angrily, grabbing his arm. "I saw how you looked at her, how worried you were." Gentling both her voice and her touch, she adds, "You know as well as I do what this job does to us. We can't afford to waste time on pride."

"Look how well that's worked out for you and Connor," he snaps, regretting the words as soon as they leave his mouth. As much as he cares for her, there's something about Abby that sets him on edge, and always has. He's often thought that they're just too similar for their own good, both spoiling for something or someone to fight.

Abby's spine straightens and she retracts her hand, but instead of lashing back at him, she crosses her arms around her middle and gives a small, stiff nod. "It's true enough. But even though we're in a bad way right now, I don't regret being with him, not for a single second. My only regret is how long it took us, how stupid we were."

She turns back to her car, opening the driver's side door. Jingling her keys in her hand, she looks back at Becker. "We could have lost her today," she says matter-of-factly. "No warning, no time to say goodbye. Just like Cutter. Just like Sarah. All I'm saying is, don't wait too long."

He stands in the parking structure long after her car disappears from sight.

-

Jess answers the door wearing track suit bottoms and a tshirt with her wet hair slicked back from her face. It's the least color he's ever seen her wear, shades of grey and black, and more of her face is visible than it usually is when her fringe is in place. She looks smaller than normal, if that's possible, and her eyes widen slightly at the sight of him. "I was hoping it was you," she says. "Hi."

"Hi," he returns. He holds up the brown takeaway bag for lack of anything useful to say. "My turn for Chinese, I think, but if you were about to turn in I can just-" He motions with his head back the way he came, wondering exactly when he became incapable of human interaction.

Jess smiles. "Prawn crackers?" she asks hopefully.

Becker exhales a small breath that feels like relief. "Prawn crackers," he confirms.

"Thank you," she says, and he knows she's talking about more than the food. She's still standing there, impossibly small, looking at him with those big blue doe eyes, and he can't forget the feeling of her pulse slowing under his fingers, the life leaving her - her leaving him - without there being a single thing he could do to stop it.

Before he can stop himself he's dropped the bag and yanked her none too gently into his arms, an arm around her tiny waist and the other hand cradling her head to his shoulder. "Don't you ever do that to me again, Jessica," he says gruffly into her hair.

Jess grips his back, mumbles something into the fabric of his jacket. "Hmm?" he says, pulling back a bit but unwilling to let her go.

She tilts her head back to glare at him. "I said, 'now you know how it feels.' Who has to sit back and just watch while you run off after whatever creature of the week the anomalies spit out? Me, that's who, while you get shot and act like it's nothing and I'm back at the ARC holding my breath, waiting for someone to tell me you're okay." She huffs indignantly and moves to leave the circle of his arms.

Becker's grip tightens, and her eyes fly back to his face. He knows he's about to do something either very brave or very stupid, but either way, he's pretty sure Abby would approve. "What-" Jess starts before he bends his head and catches her mouth with his, lightly. It's innocent enough, but the feeling of her lips on his knocks the breath out of him. Their mouths part and she sighs, a soft "oh" that undoes him completely.

Jess blinks up at him, and he's about to step back and make some kind of excuse, beat a hasty retreat while he still has some dignity left, but she rocks up on her toes, throwing an arm around his neck and kissing him rather enthusiastically. His hands grip her hips on impulse, lifting her slightly and giving her the perfect opportunity to hitch her legs up around his waist. He spins to back them against the door, leaving his hands free to roam over her sides, smooth her damp hair, touch her face.

There's heat there, as he'd always suspected there would be; he'd wanted her desperately from the first moment she barreled into his life, colorful and bright and everything he wasn't. So the heat doesn't surprise him, though it simmers rather than spikes, taking a back seat to the overwhelming relief he feels that she's here, safe and warm, her fingers raking through his hair. The real surprise is in the way they seem to fit, kissing each other like they've done this their whole lives.

Becker breaks away, dropping his head to her shoulder and pressing a small kiss where the neck of her oversized shirt has slipped off. Jess hums in her throat and kisses the bit of his temple that she can reach. "Hey," she says quietly, misinterpreting his silence. "Sorry for jumping you. I don't know where that came from. I mean, I do know where that came from, because I'm human and you look really good in that jacket and you were brilliant today, but...oh, would you please say something?" she demands, her skin flushing red as she bangs her head back against the door.

Becker chuckles, nuzzling into the curve of her neck. Her nervous chatter does more than anything else could to convince him that she's back to her old self. "Jessica," he says, pausing to trail his mouth up to her jawline. "I think you'll find that I kissed you." The last bit he intones in her ear.

Not to be soothed, Jess rambles on, "but that was just an 'I'm glad you're not dead' sort of kiss, right? And then I had to go and throw myself at you. And while we're at it, you've been carrying me around all day, which has got to be exhausting, so if you want to set me down-"

He cuts her off with a searing kiss, her lips parting in shock. His tongue slides against hers and he feels that simmering heat spike to a boil. Before he can lose himself in it, he pulls back and rests a finger on her mouth, momentarily deterring the rest of her rant. "Two things. One, I will set you down whenever I feel like it, and not a moment before. Clear?"

She nods mutely, a shy smile curving her lips. He rolls his eyes in fake exasperation, shooting a small grin back at her and hitching her a bit higher for good measure.

"And two..." He smooths a bit of bedraggled hair out of her face, takes a deep breath. "I kissed you because I wanted to. Because you scared the hell out of me today, and even though I've already lost more people than I can count, none of that hurt nearly as much as the mere thought of losing you." Just the memory of it is a sock to his gut, and he closes his eyes briefly. "I can't lose you," he admits.

Framing his face in her hands, Jess leans forward to kiss him sweetly. "You won't have to," she promises, and though he knows it's not a promise she's entirely equipped to keep, and certainly isn't one he can return, he chooses to believe it anyway.

"So," she says, her voice hesitant but teasing, "now that we've established who's taking advantage of whom here, could I suggest a change of venue?"

Becker arches an eyebrow. "Why, Miss Parker."

Jess blushes furiously. "Oh, that's not what I meant. But I'm starving, and I'm exhausted, and I know you've never been here before, but trust me when I say that my entryway is not the most comfortable location my flat has to offer."

"Is that so," he muses.

She nods. "One might say the bedroom is its best feature - for sleeping," she adds quickly. "I just thought you could...stay. Eat, watch some telly, sleep, whatever. If you want."

"I want," he says. To be honest, he can't think of anything he wants more.

Jess bites her lip. "Good." Looking down at her legs still wrapped around his waist, she adds, "whether or not I walk there is entirely up to you, of course."

"Of course." He makes his choice clear by grabbing her around the back with one arm and bending at the knees to grab the discarded takeaway bag with the other. "This work for you?" he asks.

"Yeah," she says softly. "I could get used to this."

As he carries her up the stairs, he thinks, yeah, so could I.

end