Warnings : Spoilers for pretty much everything that's ever happened in the series may lie within. Since this was completed LONG before the comic was released, any similarity to the events in the comics is purely coincidental.
Disclaimer/Claimer: I do not own nor am I affiliated with Jericho or CBS or any of the other PTB in relation to the show (although if anybody has a Major Beck just kickin' around with nothing to do, looking lonely...send him my way!). No infringement is intended. I'm just taking the characters out to play, and will do my best to show them a very, VERY good time. ;)
A/N: The following story has Half-naked!Beck, Interloper!Anita, Drunken!Heather and is really pretty crack-ish when it comes to characterization and situations. I hope you enjoy it anyway!! :D
PS - LiveJournal hates me... :(
When Heather awoke, her mouth was fuzzy, her stomach was queasy and her head was pounding. With a groan, she opened her eyes and frowned blurrily at the ceiling, squinting against the bright light of day. She cautiously sat up and was relieved to note that the room wasn't spinning too badly.
She got up from the couch, and realized she was still covered in grit from the fields and still wearing the clothes she had worn in the field the day before.
“First things first,” she thought and made her way to the bathroom. When she emerged, she had showered and brushed her teeth, using a sparse amount of her “real” toothpaste. She thought the occasion called for it, based on the amount of fuzzies she could feel growing on her teeth.
Wrapped in her father's old flannel dressing gown, she shuffled to the kitchen and cautiously drank a glass of water. When it didn't immediately make a reappearance, she drank a second, downing two of her carefully hoarded Tylenol with it as well. It really was a special occasion, she thought, as she shuffled back to the couch and tried to recall the previous evening.
She winced at the knock on the door. The Tylenol hadn't had much chance to work. She laid on the couch and hoped whoever it was would go away. A second knocking, louder than before, made her sit up with a groan and open the front door, squinting against the sun.
Beck and Emily stood on the doorstep. Even in her fragile state, Heather was saddened to note that Beck was back in full uniform.
“Hi?” she croaked.
Beck couldn't quite hide his amusement. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Like shit on a stick,” Heather groaned. “Please tell me you don't need me.”
Beck's eyes warmed. “Not today,” he said. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Heather carefully stepped back and let Beck and Emily into the house. “What time is it?” she asked.
“Noon,” Beck said. “I thought it was time to check on you and I ran into Emily on the way here.”
Emily avidly watched the two of them talking. “I heard you'd tied one on,” she said brightly, “and I wanted to hear all about it.”
“I don't remember a whole lot,” Heather mumbled as she led the way back to the livingroom and lowered herself onto the couch. “What did I do?”
“Nothing much,” Beck said. “There was that little dance on top of the bar, but we managed to find almost all your clothes afterwards.”
Heather squinted at him, frowning. “Almost all?” she asked.
Beck nodded solemnly. “But I'm pretty sure I can persuade the men to give them up if you want.”
Heather gave a reluctant smile. “You're so sweet,” she muttered. She frowned at him again with a puzzled face.
“What's wrong?” Beck asked, an odd tone to his voice.
“I'm just...” Heather said slowly, “I think there's something I should remember...”
“Well, maybe it'll come back to you,” Beck said briskly. He glanced at Emily. “I only came by to check on you, make sure you were alright. And to tell you we have extra Tylenol at the office if you need any.”
“Thanks,” Heather groaned, closing her eyes. “If I ever recover enough to actually walk anywhere, I'll be there.”
Beck laughed softly and left the two women alone.
There was a long silence after Beck left, and Heather finally opened her eyes and frowned at Emily. “What?” she growled.
“What is going with you and Beck?” Emily asked eagerly.
“What? Nothing!” Heather blurted and then frowned. There was something...she shook her head, groaned, and refocused on Emily. “Why do you ask?”
“Anita said you were hanging all over him last night!”
“I was?” Heather squeaked, her eyes widening in mortification. “When? Where? At Bailey's?”
“No – out in the street. She ran into you two after you left Bailey's and she said you were practically wrapped around him.”
“Oh. My. God.” Heather said slowly. “Oh. My. GOD!” She covered her face with her hands.
“Don't you remember?” Emily asked.
“You know how I am after a drunk, Emily! I barely remember anything. And that's usually the way I like it. Oh. My. God!” A look of horror crossed Heather's face.
“What?” Emily said.
“I...I think I kissed him!”
“No!” Emily gasped.
“Oh, God,” Heather moaned. “No wonder he dropped by! He was probably going to fire me but decided not to do it in front of you.”
Emily shook her head. “He woudn't fire you – he needs you too much. Besides, how do you know he wasn't just here to, you know, talk about it and clear the air? Let you know he didn't hold it against you?”
Heather groaned again. She could vaguely remember the feel of her lips on his, her tongue in his mouth. She was hungover and mortified, and she would have to apologize and hope he would still trust her.
“I am never drinking again,” Heather moaned, covering her face with her hands. “I'm never going near a man again! I'll enter a convent!”
“You're not Catholic,” Emily pointed out.
“So why do you think you kissed him?”
Heather frowned. “Do you mean why did I do it, or why do I think I did it?”
“Why did you do it?” Emily clarified. “I mean, it's Beck! He's not exactly the most popular guy in town.”
“For now,” Heather replied. “Have you seen him when he's not in that crappy uniform? Ask Mary when you see her. He's quite a sight without his shirt.”
“As good as Jake?” Emily teased.
Heather stared at her. “Better than Jake,” she sighed. “I've had to watch that naked chest and back for weeks – no wonder I snapped. And those eyes! Not to mention the lips. And the way he walks...and have I mentioned his ass? That's the ass of a man in peak physical condition! Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You've got it bad,” Emily stated. “You're as much in lust with him as Anita.”
“More,” Heather sighed, “but I can control it when I'm sober. I obviously can't when I'm drunk! I mean, nothing – not one inappropriate touch while we were working in the fields. And you have no idea how tough that was! Oh, God! How humiliating!”
“What are you going to do?” Emily asked.
“I'm going to get over my hangover, and then I'll go to the office and apologize. Ask him not to fire me. Promise never to do it again. And I will never drink again.”
“What about the convent?”
“I'm not Catholic,” Heather replied absently. “Is it possible to die from mortification?”
When Heather appeared late that afternoon at Beck's door, she looked and felt more human, but she also looked nervous and afraid.
Beck glanced up and gave her a half smile. “Need Tylenol?” he asked.
“No,” Heather said, and shut the door.
Beck's gaze sharpened. “What is it?” he asked. “What's wrong?”
Heather stood in front of his desk, wringing her hands. “I...I think...I think I remember kissing you last night and I'm here to apologize and to assure you that I didn't know what I was doing and it won't happen again because I'm never drinking again, although I'll give the convent a miss, and please don't fire me because you need me and I do a damn fine job, and I was drunk and you can't really blame a girl for stuff she does when she's drunk and besides it was just a kiss and it's not like either of us are married – oh God, I'm sorry – but you know what I mean although that's really no excuse for my behavior and I'm really, really sorry and why are you laughing?”
Beck made an obvious effort to contain his amusement. “Heather,” he said calmly although his lips were fighting against a full-blown grin, “I can assure you that you did not kiss me.”
Heather stared at him. “Then...then who did I kiss?”
“You did not initiate any kisses with anybody,” Beck said solemnly.
“But Emily said...”
Beck raised an eyebrow. “What did Emily say?”
“That Anita saw us in the street and I was hanging all over you.”
“I was trying to keep you on your feet! You weren't hanging all over me – you were passing out.”
Heather stared at him, her blue eyes clear and puzzled. “But why -” she paused.
“Why what?” Beck asked.
Heather frowned. “I seem to remember kissing – well, if not you, then somebody. Why would I -”
“You probably dreamed it,” Beck shrugged. “Besides,” he added, tilting his head and looking at her with interest, “why would you kiss me, anyway?”
Heather struggled to keep her eyes locked on his. She licked her lips and said weakly, “Because you were there?”
Beck's smile held little humour. “Well, now I'm a mountain,” he sighed. “You did nothing to be embarrassed about,” he assured her gently, “you still have a job; I do need you; you'll drink again once your head stops pounding, and a convent would be a poor place for you to end up.”
“Okay,” Heather said softly. “I'm...just...going to go...have a holiday,” she said, backing towards the door.
“I'll see you back at work in a week,” Beck agreed.
Heather nodded awkwardly and bolted from the office.
Mary patted Heather on the back, as Heather sat with her head buried in her arms at a table at Bailey's.
“I'm so pathetic,” Heather moaned. “He must think I'm a lunatic.”
Mary exchanged a glance with Emily, who sat on the other side of Heather. “I'm sure he doesn't,” Mary soothed. “Maybe a little crazy, but not a lunatic.”
Heather raised her head and glared. “You're not helping.”
“Heather, you're a hurtin' unit,” Mary said. “You misremembered what happened last night, and you did what you thought you had to to make things right. Beck will respect that.”
“But now – won't he suspect that I'm not...indifferent to him?”
“You told him you probably would have kissed him because he was there – he probably just thinks you're...you know...missing sex.”
“Well, I am,” Heather admitted, “but it's all because of him. Why did he have to look so good with his shirt off?”
“And his eyes?” Mary asked.
“His lips?” Emily chimed in.
“Not to mention his ass?” Mary added.
Heather glared at them both.
“Again – not helping.”
“Sorry,” Mary muttered. “But there's not much I can offer you. He did resist Anita, though – for three weeks. And there were nights I thought she was going to throw him on the bar and do him right there.”
“I would have killed her,” Heather snarled. “Beck deserves somebody better than that.”
Mary stared past Heather's shoulder when the door opened. “But I guess he doesn't want better than that,” she said softly as Beck and Anita came into the bar.
Heather groaned, but sat up straight and reached for the glass of water in front of her, and refused to turn around. Mary got up and went to meet them.
“Hi, guys,” she greeted. “What can I do for you?”
“We're here for supper,” Beck said briskly.
“Sure thing,” Mary said. “Can I get you something to drink, first?”
“Just water, Mary, thanks. I'm on duty tonight.”
Mary rejoined Heather and Emily after Beck and Anita had been served.
Heather shook her head. “I have to get it together,” she hissed to Emily and Mary. “I work with him! I just need to hide my feelings and act professionally.” She looked sad for a moment. 'He would never think of me like that...”
Mary and Emily exchanged glances and kept silent.
Heather spent the next three days assessing the old equipment and making lists of what needed to be done for each one. She didn't speak to Beck for those two days, although she saw him in Bailey's each night; each time he was with Anita. Anita had apparently tired of the supply sergeant and had Beck in her sights again. In her misery, Heather worked harder than normal even though she was technically on holidays in an attempt to keep her mind off her embarrassment over her conversation with Beck.
On the afternoon of the fourth day there was a thunderous pounding on Heather's door and she opened it to find a furious Beck on her doorstep.
Heather's jaw dropped. “What -”
Beck pushed past her into the house. “What the hell are you doing, working on restoring old equipment when you're supposed to be on holidays?” Beck snapped.
“What?” Heather said again.
“I just came from Gray's office, where I have told him in no uncertain terms that he's an idiot. Somebody who didn't work in the fields for weeks is going to take over from you, starting immediately -.”
“What?” Heather said again.
“- at least until you've had a chance to rest. Which is exactly what you're supposed to be doing right now, not this pet project of Gray's! Why didn't you come to me and tell me you were doing all that work? I would have put a stop to it from the start!”
“What?!” Heather said again.
“And can't you say anything else?” Beck snapped.
“If you'd let me!” Heather snapped back. “What do you mean, I'm no longer working on the equipment? Why are you so angry with me?”
Beck drew a deep, calming breath. “I'm not angry at you,” he said. “Well, I am, but not just at you. You've been working like a dog for weeks in the fields and everyone else has taken the leave I offered them. But not you! You can't seem to say no when somebody asks you to do some work for them!”
Heather was taken aback. “I...I...” she stammered, “I like being needed,” she managed to say.
“Needed? They take advantage of you! And you let them!” Beck came closer and grasped her shoulders. He intently stared at her, his dark eyes wide and searching. “You need to take care of yourself, Heather, and rest when you can. You never know when you'll get this opportunity again.”
Heather gaped at him and tried to ignore the warmth of his hands on her shoulders. “What -” she started, and with an exasperated growl, Beck lowered his head and kissed her.
The kiss was hard and hot and intensely erotic, his tongue sweeping her mouth. Beck moved his hands to Heather's head so he could control the angle of the kiss, deepening the kiss and demanding a response from her.
Heather felt overwhelmed, both by the sheer carnality of the kiss and by the force of her reaction to it. She clung to him, eagerly opening her mouth for him, kissing him back with as much hunger as he was showing her. She felt like she was falling or flying and was startled to suddenly feel the wall against her back.
The kiss intensified, and became even more carnal when Beck cupped one of her breasts in his hand and caressed her through her t-shirt. Heather could dimly hear whimpering and realized it was her, and she felt a thrill of satisfaction when Beck groaned into her mouth as she feverishly tunneled her hands under his shirt to fiercely caress his back, that naked back that had fascinated her for weeks.
With an effort, Beck wrenched his lips from hers, and closed his eyes tightly as he panted for breath.
Heather felt stunned and bereft as she stared at him in shock. “What – why -?” she stuttered. She ached, she thought, actually ached with wanting him so much.
“I'm on duty in half an hour,” Beck explained pressing his damp forehead against hers and trying to catch his breath. “I wasn't – I hadn't expected this.”
“Me, either,” Heather whispered. They stood in silence for a moment as they struggled to calm themselves.
“Your hand isn't helping,” Heather finally sighed, regret clear in every syllable.
Beck reared back in astonishment, then looked where he was still cupping and gently massaging her breast. He stared for a long moment as he caressed her stiff nipple with his thumb. With a visible swallow, he slowly removed his hand although he couldn't seem to stop looking at her breasts, which only caused them to tighten more.
Beck closed his eyes and with an effort, stepped back from her, Heather's hands slowly sliding out from under his shirt. She felt very cold and lonely once his body wasn't pressed against hers, but the heat in his eyes when he looked at her again warmed her.
Beck glanced at his watch. “I still have five minutes,” he said softly.
Heather slowly heaved herself away from the wall and walked on shaking legs to the couch. She sat down and looked up at him, her eyes wide and puzzled.
“I did kiss you the other night, didn't I?” she said slowly.
Beck shook his head and sighed. “I kissed you. You were too drunk, and I shouldn't have done it. I honestly couldn't help myself. I'm sorry.”
“Why didn't you tell me when I was babbling in your office?”
“Because you looked so appalled by it all. And because we were in my office and I didn't think that was a good place to have that particular conversation.”
“Are you sorry about this?” Heather asked, vaguely gesturing between them.
“I'm sorry I have to leave in five minutes,” Beck said. “I'm not sorry about the rest of it.” He hesitated. “Are you sorry?” His face was calm but there was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes.
Heather stared at him. “No,” she said, “but I am scared.”
Beck blinked. “Scared? Why?”
“Because I've never felt anything like that before,” she waved vaguely in the direction of the wall they'd been pressed against. “Would we have made it into the bedroom, do you think?”
Beck swallowed hard. “We weren't going to make it away from the wall,” he said huskily.
Heather's eyes widened even more. “Oh,” she sighed. “Oh.” She suddenly frowned at him. “What about Anita?”
“Anita is extremely – and apparently genuinely - smitten with my supply sergeant, but he seems indifferent. She's been asking for advice.”
“Every night?” Heather asked drily.
“Every night,” Beck sighed. “I may order him to take her on a date – at least it would change the conversation.”
Heather laughed a little at that and he smiled at her.
“What now?” Beck asked after a moment of charged silence.
“You have to go on duty,” she replied.
“I meant -”
“I know what you meant,” she smiled slowly at him. “If you want to come back tonight? We could -”
“I won't be back in Jericho for three days,” Beck sighed regretfully. “We need supplies. Why don't we go to Bailey's for supper the night I get back, maybe stay and dance for awhile, and we'll take it from there.”
“You mean...like a date?” Heather asked.
Beck smiled at her. “Yes,” he said patiently, “like a date.”
She blinked at him in silence for a moment and then she stood, relieved to find that her legs, while still shaking, weren't quite as weak as before.
“You have to go,” she said softly, “but yes, I would love to go to to Bailey's with you when you get back. Like a date.”
Heather caught her breath at Beck's slow grin. She walked him to the door where Beck turned to her. “No more work, Heather. You deserve a holiday and I will kick Gray's ass if he asks you to do anything more for the next few days.”
Heather nodded okay. She put a hand on his arm. “I want to kiss you good-bye,” she said shyly. “Will that be okay?”
“More than okay,” Beck replied softly.
They kissed gently, tightly controlled, taking the time to explore and learn each other's mouths. They broke the kiss just as gently, then Beck hissed, “Shit,” and kissed her again, hot and hungry, demanding a response which she gladly gave.
She sighed when they broke the kiss again. “Now you have to leave before your men come looking for you.”
He nodded and let her go with great reluctance. “I'll see you in three days,” he said, squared his shoulders, quickly opened the door and left the house. Heather watched him until he turned the corner on her block, giving her one last look over his shoulder. Then she closed the door, sagged against it, and slowly slid to the floor. Her body was on fire, but she had never been happier. Three days, she thought happily. Three days, and he'd be back. With a little judicious persuasion, she'd probably be able to convince him to have supper at her place instead of Bailey's. She hugged herself with a gleeful grin and began to plan for his return.