10. “Goodbye” kiss - Jack/Renee ahahaha ily...

On the damp, unseasonably cool Monday morning Renee was scheduled to start work at CTU:LA, Jack woke up at 3:42. (If you could even call it waking up when he’d really been doing little more than slipping in and out of an exhausted semi-doze since he’d crawled into bed.)

He fed the cat. He balanced the checkbook. He read five different articles online about how breathing exercises and beach walks could help with chronic anxiety. He finished one of the level three Sudokus in that damn book Renee had left on the table and felt irrationally proud of himself. He looked up a craft to do for his afternoon shift at Teri’s preschool (some funny owl constructed out of paper plates, pipe cleaners, and glue stick – among other things) and made a list of what he’d have to buy at Michael’s.

At 6:12, he filled the coffeemaker to the very top and waited until he could use the sneak-a-cup feature before heading into the bedroom to wake Renee up. (Sure, the alarm was set, but a gentle shoulder rub had to be less jarring than that singsongy ringtone she never remembered to change.)

He stood by the bed for a minute before he reached for her, holding the steaming cup of coffee he’d brought as a wakeup offering in his trembling hand. And he tried to memorize every single thing about her, right in that moment. The soft rise and fall of her shoulder under the burgundy comforter. The way her hair flew out in all directions over the pillow because she could never stand to have it on her neck for more than ten seconds. The traces of mascara smudged beneath her eyes, because she’d been so tired after their talk last night that she’d probably washed her face with less than 100% commitment.

What if this was the last time?

What if tomorrow, the bed was empty, the room quiet? What if she wasn’t there, teasing him because he couldn’t relax on the couch with her after dinner until he’d put the dishes in the dishwasher? What if he couldn’t watch her curled into the corner of the huge chair they loved to share, eating that cashew and M&M trail mix she loved so much piece by piece, so deeply immersed in her book that she wouldn’t even notice him staring at her? What if he couldn’t listen to the soft laughter in her voice when Teri called to invite them over to dinner at Kim and Stephen’s? What if he couldn’t hold her hand at dinnertime, just because he felt like it? What if he couldn’t slide his hands underneath the hem of her shirt and feel her eager “hmm” against his neck when his fingers touched her skin?

Because even six months later, sometimes he still couldn’t believe she was really there.

He forced himself to take a deep, long breath and then downed a large sip of the coffee he was about to offer her.

And then he reached out to smooth the hair away from her face and kiss her awake.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“What’d I do with the file Dan wanted me to read before the meeting?” Renee fumbled with the button on her blouse and frantically scanned the room.

Jack lifted the file off the top of the piano and held it out to her.

She sighed, grinning. “Thanks.” Taking another gulp of coffee, she said, “Now if I could just find my shoes…”

“On the floor of the closet, beside your brown boots.” He opened and closed his hand, fingers still vibrating slightly.

She shook her head, reaching for the black pumps. “I’ll have this down by Wednesday.”

And then she stood up, put everything she was holding on the counter, and walked over to him, stopping only when she was close enough to reach for his hands and, with another half step, lean her forehead against his.

“Jack.” Her voice had gone all fuzzy, and fuck all, he had sworn to himself that there was no way he was gonna cry, that if he did one thing the entire goddamn day it would be to get her out the door and on the way to this new job she’d been looking forward to for a month without having to deal with him having yet another meltdown about it. But he could feel his eyes stinging, his whole psyche reacting to the warmth of her hands and the soft sound of her voice.

She cleared her throat. “I’m gonna be fine. I’ll text you every half hour, unless I’m in a meeting.”

“You don’t need to-”

“I want to,” she interrupted, her words louder now. Firmer. “And please promise me that you won’t think you need a reason to text? Text me because you found a new recipe or because you’re mad about my socks again or just … because you want to, okay?”

He nodded. “You’re gonna be late.”

“I’ve still got five minutes.” And she reached for his face, touching his lips with hers. So soft at first, but then deeper, the mint of her toothpaste cool and tangy against his chapped lips. Her arms slipped around his back and he drew her closer, his thumbs stroking her cheeks as he kissed her, over and over.

He fully expected her to pull away, start collecting her stuff, but he should have known better. All or nothing, always. She snuggled closer, her body pressed all up into his as the kiss went deep and slow and lazy, breaking away for small moments to breathe before they started up again.

Finally, when he realized that his fingers had drifted away from her face and down to her ass, he drew back and grabbed her hands, resting his forehead on hers.

“Just be careful,” he whispered, and his whole body felt as if something was crushing him from the inside.

“I love you.” She swallowed, and he could see the unnatural shine in her eyes. “I just-” She tried again. “I love you. And I’m not gonna let anything happen to me. Because I know.”

He held her hands tighter.

“Jack. Please look at me?”

He lifted his eyes until all he could see was his favorite shade of green.

“I know.”

He raised both her hands to his mouth and kissed each of her knuckles, one by one. Then he somehow managed what he hoped passed for a smile and said, “You’ll be pissed if you’re late.” He leaned in for one more brush of his lips over hers and managed to add, “I love you.”

She walked out the door holding the new leather briefcase Kim and Stephen had bought her as a back to work gift and the homemade lunch Jack had insisted on packing for her. She didn’t look back, and he couldn’t have been more grateful.

She always knew.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Forty-five minutes later, while he was walking down the beach, digging his toes into the sand and listening to the rush of waves smashing, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He pulled it out and blinked to see the words in the small grey bubble.

“This meeting is boring. They drink fucking Maxwell House. Clearly I’m gonna have to make some changes.”

Then a pause and-

“Will you make fettuccine alfredo for dinner tonight? I need something to look forward to.”

He tapped out, “Yeah, and I’ll get a ridiculously expensive bottle of wine to celebrate, too.”

A smile emoji and then, “I’ll call you at lunch, okay?”

“Sounds good. Love you.” He hit send and pocketed the phone, feeling like he could breathe for the first time in a week. Adjusting his sunglasses, he turned around and headed for home.

Jack and Renee. Apocalyptic desert wasteland AU *snickers*

He’s something like eight trillion percent convinced she’s a mirage.

Why wouldn’t she be?

(Every good memory is her. Mahogany and cinnamon and black coffee in the morning and the way it felt to fall asleep with the soft curve of her shoulder rising under his hand.)

“Jack.”

[it’s not real]

“Jack.”

[she’s not here]

“Jack, goddammit. Drink this. Please.”

[what’s happening her hands are so gentle in his hair it can’t be a dream]

And then there’s water on his lips, slipping in drops down his throat.

He forces his eyes open, coughing a little as he tries to swallow.

“Slow down. I’m not going anywhere.” The best hologram ever created eases the canteen away from his mouth and leans over, pressing a chapped kiss to his forehead.

[she’s real]

Caryl watching a 24 marathon. :)

[Omg this is so ooc, but I could not stop myself for love or money.]

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“Stop eating all the popcorn!” She grabbed at the giant bowl, leaning forward to tickle his ribs a little as distraction. His instinctive jump jostled her legs, which were tossed across his lap, covered by a fleece blanket.

“This fuckin’ show makes me nervous,” he replied, jamming another buttery handful into his mouth. “What about his daughter? What if that biowhatever thing kills him before the redheaded chick can figure out where he is?”

“I can’t believe you!” Carol exclaimed, licking salt off the end of her finger.

“Why, what’d I do?”

“You’re a total shipper!”

“I’m what now?”

“A shipper. You want Jack and Renee to do it.” She pushed her knee gently into his stomach, smirking. “It’s cute!”

“Pft, is that her name?” He pretended to ignore Carol, staring at the screen while Jack somehow managed to kill a couple guys even though he’d been unconscious seconds before. After a pause, Daryl said under his breath, “But every goddamn time they’re in the same room, I’m waitin’ for something to go up in flames.”

“Shipper,” she whispered, a tiny giggle escaping as she stuffed more popcorn into her mouth.

Roslin/Adama AU where she is a a cylon

She tried to breathe, but it felt like her lungs were filled with damp cotton, getting more saturated by the second. Her hands shook so violently that she balled them into fists, feeling the half circles of her nails cut into her palms.

Bill just stood there, so many emotions landing and taking off in his eyes that she felt almost dizzy.

The terrifying silence hung in the air, making her ears ring, until finally he strolled over, flipped up a glass, and filled it with way to much Scotch. He downed the amber liquid in maybe three swallows, facial expression never changing.

Then he walked back toward her and reached for her freezing hands, prying them open and holding them, cradling her fingers, warm inside his. (The way he’d done so many times – in the morning before his quick kiss goodbye, at night before they crawled under the covers, at 3 a.m. when she couldn’t sleep and was on the edge of a panic attack.)

She swallowed and forced her eyes to lift enough to see his. They were shiny with tears, but still dancing with every drop of love and adoration that inevitably illuminated his face whenever he looked at her.

“What are you going to do?” she managed, heart slamming so rapidly that it was uncomfortable in her chest. The word alien crawled through her mind, and she realized that if her body mimicked what her psyche was doing, she’d disintegrate right there, in the middle of Bill’s quarters.

But it didn’t.

And he still hadn’t answered her.

“Bill?” She straightened. “I’ll tell the fleet. I will.”

“No.” He dropped her hands and picked up the glass he’d set on the table, flinging it across the room. It shattered into pieces against the opposite wall.

Laura didn’t even flinch. Not from that. Not now.

“No? What are you talking-”

“You’re not telling anyone. I’m not telling anyone.” He had the voice, the one he used when argument wasn’t even a consideration.

“But you can’t-”

He touched her face, thumb moving gently across the edge of her jaw, and this time, one of the tears in his eyes slipped out, tracking down his cheek until it hit his three-day stubble.

He pulled her into him, and her arms instinctively wrapped around his shoulders, her face pressed against his neck so she could smell that ridiculous “forest-scented” soap Lee loved to find.

“It’s not even a choice,” Bill finally whispered, his voice anguished but convicted. “Sine qua non.”

Renee/Jack: 'It had been a hell of a day, but now they were both home ready to relax. . .

Renee barely managed to drop her keys into the ceramic bowl on the edge of the counter (a birthday gift Teri had made in her kindergarten art class – penguins and flamingos sunning themselves on a snowy beach), before she attacked the buttons on her blouse as she headed for the bedroom, unzipping her jeans and trying to slide out of them while she walked.

By the time she reached the door she was halfway undressed, blouse tossed on the corner of the deep mahogany comforter that covered the bed (Jack pulled it up every morning, no matter what insanity was happening in their lives – she’d tease him over toast about how a wrinkle-free quilt made him feel more in control of things, but secretly she was a little envious) and her jeans passing for folded and shoved in the third dresser drawer.

“What do you wanna get for takeout?” she called over her shoulder to Jack, forcing herself not to invert the sock she was fighting with because Jack had a thing about socks and laundry protocol. “Indian, pizza, that place with the wings that fry your mouth? I don’t care. I haven’t eaten anything since I stole Mer’s Cocoa Puffs for breakfast.”

Silence.

She could hear Jack moving around the kitchen, the low velvet of his voice and soft click of the phone. Then the unmistakeable sound of a cork popping.

“Jack?”

His voice vibrated with suppressed laughter when he called back, “Close the door and give me ten minutes, okay?”

She paused, cool cotton of her black yoga pants against her palm. “What are you doing?”

“Trust me?”

The smile that snuck up on her had a mind of its own. “Ten minutes. If there isn’t food by then I’m going to Five Guys.”

_________________________

Twelve minutes later, wearing one of Jack’s faded t-shirts and blissfully bra-free, Renee cautiously opened the door.

She walked down the hall to find Jack (still wearing the deep grey suit he’d put on for that fucking director’s meeting and looking impossibly sexy for a guy who’d worked fourteen hours on a Diet Coke and four fun-sized Snickers) standing by the dining room table, which was lit with at least ten candles and set with salads so elaborate Renee couldn’t readily identify all the greens in them, some type of creamy tomato soup (steam wafting upwards and catching the candlelight), and steak that smelled so good her mouth began watering before she could take another step.

He was holding a bouquet of roses, the off-white ones with the deep red edging, the ones he’d brought her the very first day her doctor had given the all clear for flowers in the hospital room.

After.

He grinned, blue eyes sparkling with some kind of secret. “You don’t even know what day it is, do you?” he asked, picking up a glass of what looked like champagne and taking a few steps toward her, extending both the flower and the drink. He took the last step to close the distance and kissed her cheekbone right by her hair, lips lingering long enough for his hand to smooth down to her waist and pull her closer.

She sent her brain into a frantic scan, but after the bizarre collision of monotonous meetings and that surreal moment when she’d had to diffuse a trigger mechanism she’d never even seen before, higher-order processing was apparently taking the evening off. She took a sip of the champagne and closed her eyes with the perfect taste on her tongue. “Thursday?” she offered up, knowing she’d already failed this test. (Knowing he didn’t care. Knowing he’d make up any reason to surprise her on nights like this.)

“Friday, so you’re close.” He ran his thumb over her top lip and then leaned in suddenly, touching his mouth to hers. “But it’s also October 16th.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

The day she’d woken up in ICU. The day she’d watched as Jack put his head down on the edge of her bed and cried, shoulders shaking until the crappy side-rails jiggled precariously. The day he’d had a three minute stare-down with a 6′3″ nurse, not even blinking until the guy had wheeled a cot into the room.

The cot where Jack had spent more or less all of the following two months.

“Jack. I didn’t mean-” He cut her off with another soft kiss, lips warm and comforting, expensive champagne over the taste of everything in this universe that made her feel safe.

“Honey, will you just sit down and eat the soup before it’s cold?”

She sucked down another gulp of champagne to clear the lump in her throat, setting the rose by her plate so she could twist her pinkie with his. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“That will always be my favorite memory that doesn’t include Mer.”

He pulled out her chair, and when she sat down, lifted her hair just enough to kiss that place just above her spine that drove her straight out of her mind. “Mine too.”