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Title: If you're ever gonna see a rainbow (you gotta stand a little rain)  
Chapter 1/2
Author: [info]shirleyann66
Fandom: Jericho
Characters: Heather, Beck
Pairing: Heather/Beck
Genre: Fluffy Plotless Ficlet
Rating: PG-13 - there's one f-word.
Prompt: #04: a soap bubble @ [info]story_lottery
Summary:
Spoilers: Nothing specific, but anything in both seasons is fair game.
Word Count: 1006
Disclaimer: Jericho and everything associated with it is owned by CBS and whoever else owns it - not me (sadly). I have no claims or affiliations with any of the powers that be for this universe. This is strictly for fun, not profit, and the characters shall be returned relatively safely and mostly unharmed.

A/N1:  Although this seems like it should be taking place immediately after Sharp-Dressed Man - it's not.  It's completely stand-alone.  In fact, this is an ending in search of a story.  :(  If I hadn't written it for the [info]story_lottery challenge, it would have stayed tucked in my notebook until "what came before", er, came to me.  As it is, well... *shrug*.  If anyone wants to play with this particular plot bunny - feel free.   :)

A/N2:  Title comes from the awesome Nitty Gritty Dirt Band song of the same name ("everybody wants love to be easy but it's never been that way"). 

ETA:  The name of the song is "Stand a Little Rain".  Whoops!  :)

----------------------------------------

 

They were wet and filthy dirty, covered in soot and mud, smelling of smoke and sweat and swaying with exhaustion.


 

It had been a long fucking night, Beck thought wearily as he stood in Heather's small foyer and stared at her with wide brown eyes. He'd escorted her here – made sure she got into the house and now he could feel the exhaustion seeping through him. He wasn't sure he'd be able to walk another step and he didn't think it would help his he-man image if he collapsed at her feet and slept for a week.


 

“Come on,” she said briskly, startling him out of his stupor. She indicated the chair under a mirror. “Sit down, take those boots off. Then we're going to get out of these filthy clothes and shower and then sleep. For a week.”


 

Beck stared at her, the connection between ears and brain not quite working. It seemed his brain-to-speech connection wasn't working either.


 

“What?” he finally croaked out, his voice raw from the smoke.


 

“Sit. Take off your boots. You're staying here tonight.” Heather guided him to the chair and urged him into it.


 

“How can you still have so much energy?” Beck asked, bemused, as he began to fumble at his boots. Apparently the brain-to-fingers connection was also short-circuited at the moment. He could barely feel his fingers at all, and he couldn't focus well enough to force them to work properly.


 

“I don't,” Heather replied calmly, but he could hear the exhaustion in her tone now, “but I also wasn't in the flames all night.”


 

She knelt in front of him and helped him remove his boots. He stared owlishly at her and wondered why she was helping him and how the hell he was going to move from this chair. Instead of worrying about it, he instead traced the curve of her cheek and the vulnerable line of her neck with his eyes. He wanted to reach out and trace the curves and lines with his fingertips, reassure himself that she really was there in front of him, in one piece, warm and alive.


 

She glanced up and caught him staring.


 

“What?” she asked with a half-smile and he could see her blush even with the layer of soot on her face.


 

“You could have died tonight,” Beck whispered, his eyes soft.


 

Heather scooted closer, her hands warm on the tops of his thighs as she steadied herself in front of him. “So could you,” she replied.


 

His eyes were dark, deep pools, vulnerable and cautious and awed, all at once. He watched her carefully as she leaned closer and he closed his eyes with a sigh as she lifted her hands and ran her fingers lightly across his brows, down his cheeks and lightly against his lips. His eyes opened slowly as Heather cupped his face, her fingers rasping softly against his whisker stubble. Their eyes met for long silent moments before Heather leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.


 

It wasn't how they had imagined their first kiss. If asked, Heather might have said she had envisioned a moment much like she'd had with Jake – a leave-taking, with no guarantee that he would return safely; a heated, passionate kiss that tasted of promise and gave him an incentive to return safely to her.


 

Beck might have said he'd imagined a kiss during a heated argument, of stopping her words with his lips, of pressing her up against a wall or onto his desk and plundering her mouth until they both passed out from oxygen deprivation – or until she agreed to finally let him win an argument for once.


 

Neither imagined it like this – both of them dirty and stinking and almost passed out from exhaustion – or that their first kiss would be gentle and sweet rather than hot and demanding. Heather wrapped her arms around his neck as Beck gathered her closer to him. They both wanted to get closer, simply to assure themselves that the other was there, warm and alive.


 

With a soft sigh, Heather slowly ended the kiss and smiled at his wide-eyed, boyish, almost shy look.


 

“Come on,” she said, her voice amused and affectionate as she stood up and tugged him to his feet. “Let's go have that shower and then go to bed.”


 

As Beck allowed her to take him to the bathroom, he wondered if she meant “together” or if her phrasing was just a figure of speech. He was too tired and too bemused to ask; for once, he was willing to let somebody else lead.


 

His uncertainty didn't last long when they got to the bathroom. Heather simply took him directly into the bathtub and shower, clothes and all, and then turned on the water. They stripped down as the water beat over them, and Heather reached for her carefully hoarded liquid soap.


 

“I think this is a special occasion,” she said softly as she squirted some onto her hands and proceeded to scrub Beck clean. The soap bubbles slid down his body and pooled at his feet, and then hers as he returned the favour and stroked the grime of the night from her body and her hair. The washing was interspersed with gentle kisses and contented sighs, with whispered words of appreciation and regret that they were both too tired to do more than kiss and caress each other or to take more time enjoying the shower and the purely sensuous experience of washing each other.


 

Twenty minutes later, smelling of rose scented soap instead of smoke, they were wrapped in extra blankets and each other. Even though they ached all over, they were warm and comfortable and for a few moments, Beck simply held Heather close to him and let the moment be.


 

They drifted off to a well-earned, exhausted sleep with the promise of a new day and a new relationship.

 


Comments

( 4 comments — Leave a comment )
janiekins
Oct. 14th, 2009 05:57 pm (UTC)
*gentle applause*
shirleyann66
Oct. 14th, 2009 06:16 pm (UTC)
*blush*

Thanks! :)
ditte3
Oct. 14th, 2009 08:21 pm (UTC)
It's fantastic and well written.
shirleyann66
Oct. 16th, 2009 02:30 am (UTC)
Thank you! I'm glad you liked it! :)
( 4 comments — Leave a comment )

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"All right," said Susan. "I'm not stupid. You're saying humans need...fantasies to make life bearable."

REALLY? AS IF IT WAS SOME KIND OF PINK PILL? NO. HUMANS NEED FANTASY TO BE HUMAN. TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FALLING ANGEL MEETS THE RISING APE.

"Tooth fairies? Hogfathers? Little --"

YES. AS PRACTICE. YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES.

"So we can believe the big ones?"

YES. JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING.

-- Susan and Death in Hogfather by Terry Pratchett

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"And no practical definition of freedom would be complete without the freedom to take the consequences. Indeed, it is the freedom upon which all the others are based."

-- Lord Vetinari in Going Postal by Terry Pratchett

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They thought the Library was a dangerous place because of all the magical books, which was true enough, but what made it really one of the most dangerous places there could ever be was the simple fact that it was a library.

-- Guards! Guards! by Terry Pratchett

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As a wizard, it was something that Ponder had only before encountered in acorns: a tiny soundless voice which said, yes, I am but a small, green, simple object - but I dream about forests.

-- Interesting Times by Terry Pratchett

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In the 24th century, there will be no hunger. There will be no greed. And every child will know how to read.

-- Gene Roddenberry, as repeated by Jonathan Frakes in the documentary How William Shatner Changed the World

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We've got two lives, one we're given and the other one we make
And the world won't stop, and actions speak louder
Listen to your heart, and what your heart might say
Everything we got, we got the hard way.

-- Mary Chapin Carpenter, The Hard Way from the album Come On, Come On

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Cause when they own the information, oh
They can bend it all they want.

-- John Mayer, Waiting on the World to Change from the album Continuum

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Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says, "I'll try again tomorrow."

-- Mary Anne Radmacher, as seen in Uncle John's Bathroom Reader Tales to Inspire

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I never loved the soldier
Until there was a war.
Or thought about tomorrow
'til my baby hit the floor.
I only talk to God
When somebody's about to die.
I never cherished freedom
Freedom never cries.

-- Five for Fighting, Freedom Never Cries from the album Two Lights

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It may sound absurd: but don't be naive
Even heroes have the right to bleed
I may be disturbed: but won't you concede
Even heroes have the right to dream

-- Five for Fighting, Superman (It's Not Easy) from the album American Town

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Had a dream last night took a time travellin' ride
Back to my childhood where those monsters reside
They snack on innocence and dine on self-esteem
But I like to be in touch with what makes me scream
Vampires, mummies and the Holy Ghost
These are the things that terrify me the most.
No alien, psychopath or MTV host
Scares me like vampires,mummies and the Holy Ghost.

-- Jimmy Buffett, Vampires, Mummies and the Holy Ghost from the album Fruitcakes

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"I want to believe that... the dead are not lost to us. That they speak to us... as part of something greater than us - greater than any alien force. And if you and I are powerless now, I want to believe that if we listen, to what's speaking, it can give us the power to save ourselves."

-- Fox Mulder, The X-Files from the episode The Truth, pt. 2
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