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"The Night Before Christmas" (24 ficlet)
Title: "The Night Before Christmas"
Author: Leigh57
Characters: Jack, Renee
Summary: Nothin’ but Christmas squash. No really. Nothing.
Warnings: Language, sexual situations? Also, I guess for the horrifyingly spoilerphobic, stuff I elliptically allude to here is speculatively spoilery. Adverb overload. Say that ten times fast. Edit:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
marinw read and said she didn't get anything spoilery. Must be in my head.
Disclaimer: So not mine. If they were they’d do this. On TV. And I’d watch. Repeatedly.
A/N: I should disclaim all responsibility for this fic, because it’slauridsen09’s fault. Heh. In any case, I wrote it for caviarandmeths’ holiday ficathon, explained here. Prompts are “(Good) tears over a special gift, candles, wistful.” Huge hugs to lowriseflare and adrenalin211 because well, I just love you guys and have no idea how to write without you holding my hand.
Oh! And the reference to the Japanese movie is taken from this week's Newsweek.
“How long have we been in here?” Renee reached for her foot, running her finger over her heel. “I’m totally pruney.”
“I have no idea.” Jack moved her wet hair aside, kissing her neck, drawing abstract shapes on her shoulder with his soapy finger. “You wanna get out?”
“No! This is the best Christmas Eve since I was fourteen. My mom and dad bought me a Mac Classic.” She leaned her head back, relaxing into his chest. “I have to admit you surprised me though. I didn’t take you for a five-star hotel, Jacuzzi-in-the-room kind of guy.” She picked up the champagne glass sitting on the edge of the tub and took a long swallow, watching tiny circles of air spiral to the top and explode.
“I didn’t have a lot of time to think.” Jack sat up a touch and reached for his own champagne. “It was either this or my dick in a box.”
She coughed, sending white coconut-scented bubbles flying. “You know that video?”
“Not my fault,” he muttered. “Kim and Stephen watch it every five fucking minutes.”
She smirked, set her glass down, and rubbed her fingers softly over the inside of his thigh. “I’m not complaining. I got your dick in black boxer briefs.” She tilted her head to kiss his jaw. “And out of them.”
When he caught her off guard like that, jostled her perspective like a well-shaken snow globe, her stomach inevitably did a tingly funny thing. Okay, so “thing” was a spectacularly stupid word for the sensation, but she couldn’t think of a better one right now -- deliciously warm, full of apple crisp with whipped cream, still coming down off whatever the hell Jack had done to her on the pillowed chair in the bedroom, cocooned in the radiating heat of his body. She was drowsy to the point of drifting, yet so awake that each time he moved, his skin slipping softly over hers, she remembered how goddamn good it felt to be touched like this.
So different from . . . Fuck.
She pressed her finger and thumb together. Exhaled. Tried not to stiffen or breathe faster.
“You’re doing it again.” His voice against the curve of her ear made her shiver involuntarily. He turned her palm upward and closed his fingers around her hand. “Don’t. Please. Stop trying to keep me from noticing.”
“I don’t want you to notice,” she whispered. “Shit. Is one night off too much to ask? It’s Christmas Eve. One night to . . . not think about it. That’s all I wanted.”
Jack was quiet.
Hands firm on her upper arms, he put just enough distance between her body and his to allow him access to her shoulders. His thumbs pressed into her muscles, hard, the tipping point between pleasure and pain. When a tear tracked over her cheekbone and slipped off her chin, she smacked it hastily away, frustrated.
Stupid. Her face was wet anyway.
Jack wouldn’t speak first. And if she remained quiet, he’d sit there and silently rub her shoulders until dawn. She blinked, watching the white bubbles continually regenerating, the shiny tile in which she could see her shadow.
She was glad she couldn’t see her face.
Lately, she looked at herself as little as possible.
Jack’s warm, firm fingers moved further down her back, pressing at the edges of her spine.
She said abruptly, “When I came in to debrief you about the canisters and you had your shirt off, why did you apologize?”
His fingers stilled. “Where the hell did that come from?”
“Will you please just answer me?”
“Yeah. I’m-” He drew her back into his chest, holding the edge of his mouth against her cheek. “Trying to figure out how to explain.”
“Start talking and I’ll figure it out.”
He huffed. “That’s ironic coming from you.”
“Jack.” The single syllable cracked her voice.
“Fuck.” He kissed her jaw. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. Tell me.”
She felt his chest expand behind her. The room was tranquil for a few suspended moments, the only sound the soothing rush of water pulsing from the tub in a rhythmic circle.
“I thought you were probably repulsed,” he said flatly. “And I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I wanted you to-”
“What?”
She could feel his lips against her neck, curving in a grin. “I wanted you to leave.” He kissed her again. “At least the conscious part of me did. You shut that door behind you and everything was easier for a minute.”
She pulled his arm over her stomach, touching the tips of his fingers. “You do know that’s not what I thought? I wasn’t repulsed. At all.”
“I’m not wearing a shirt at the moment.”
“Shut up.”
“Yes. I know. I don’t-” He sounded surprised. “I don’t think about them. With you.” His voice dropped a fifth or so and he added mischievously, “Unless you’re. . . doing something.”
She closed her eyes. Combating the memories was exhausting, a marathon that mysteriously didn’t stop at twenty-six miles, finish line forever a few hundred yards ahead.
Her thoughts flickered with the candle on the sink. Ideas and pictures floated in and out as she felt the lift of Jack’s chest behind her, the soft slow thud of his heart. She remembered some weird Japanese movie she’d watched with her college boyfriend, where people on their way into heaven first had to choose a cherished memory, which they would then relive for eternity. She thought about blue raspberry slushies in the car with her dad after piano lessons, playing poker under the covers with her sister when they were supposed to be sleeping, drinking beer on college camping trips and watching the sky morph into deep blue darkness and stars, the candles sparking and shifting at Christmas Eve midnight mass.
She thought about the first time she’d fallen asleep with Jack.
“I’m happy. Right now,” she whispered.
Jack swallowed. Paused. His hand tightened on her knee. “Good. Let’s go to bed.”
Author: Leigh57
Characters: Jack, Renee
Summary: Nothin’ but Christmas squash. No really. Nothing.
Warnings: Language, sexual situations? Also, I guess for the horrifyingly spoilerphobic, stuff I elliptically allude to here is speculatively spoilery. Adverb overload. Say that ten times fast. Edit:
marinw read and said she didn't get anything spoilery. Must be in my head.Disclaimer: So not mine. If they were they’d do this. On TV. And I’d watch. Repeatedly.
A/N: I should disclaim all responsibility for this fic, because it’s
lauridsen09’s fault. Heh. In any case, I wrote it for caviarandmeths’ holiday ficathon, explained here. Prompts are “(Good) tears over a special gift, candles, wistful.” Huge hugs to lowriseflare and adrenalin211 because well, I just love you guys and have no idea how to write without you holding my hand.Oh! And the reference to the Japanese movie is taken from this week's Newsweek.
“How long have we been in here?” Renee reached for her foot, running her finger over her heel. “I’m totally pruney.”
“I have no idea.” Jack moved her wet hair aside, kissing her neck, drawing abstract shapes on her shoulder with his soapy finger. “You wanna get out?”
“No! This is the best Christmas Eve since I was fourteen. My mom and dad bought me a Mac Classic.” She leaned her head back, relaxing into his chest. “I have to admit you surprised me though. I didn’t take you for a five-star hotel, Jacuzzi-in-the-room kind of guy.” She picked up the champagne glass sitting on the edge of the tub and took a long swallow, watching tiny circles of air spiral to the top and explode.
“I didn’t have a lot of time to think.” Jack sat up a touch and reached for his own champagne. “It was either this or my dick in a box.”
She coughed, sending white coconut-scented bubbles flying. “You know that video?”
“Not my fault,” he muttered. “Kim and Stephen watch it every five fucking minutes.”
She smirked, set her glass down, and rubbed her fingers softly over the inside of his thigh. “I’m not complaining. I got your dick in black boxer briefs.” She tilted her head to kiss his jaw. “And out of them.”
When he caught her off guard like that, jostled her perspective like a well-shaken snow globe, her stomach inevitably did a tingly funny thing. Okay, so “thing” was a spectacularly stupid word for the sensation, but she couldn’t think of a better one right now -- deliciously warm, full of apple crisp with whipped cream, still coming down off whatever the hell Jack had done to her on the pillowed chair in the bedroom, cocooned in the radiating heat of his body. She was drowsy to the point of drifting, yet so awake that each time he moved, his skin slipping softly over hers, she remembered how goddamn good it felt to be touched like this.
So different from . . . Fuck.
She pressed her finger and thumb together. Exhaled. Tried not to stiffen or breathe faster.
“You’re doing it again.” His voice against the curve of her ear made her shiver involuntarily. He turned her palm upward and closed his fingers around her hand. “Don’t. Please. Stop trying to keep me from noticing.”
“I don’t want you to notice,” she whispered. “Shit. Is one night off too much to ask? It’s Christmas Eve. One night to . . . not think about it. That’s all I wanted.”
Jack was quiet.
Hands firm on her upper arms, he put just enough distance between her body and his to allow him access to her shoulders. His thumbs pressed into her muscles, hard, the tipping point between pleasure and pain. When a tear tracked over her cheekbone and slipped off her chin, she smacked it hastily away, frustrated.
Stupid. Her face was wet anyway.
Jack wouldn’t speak first. And if she remained quiet, he’d sit there and silently rub her shoulders until dawn. She blinked, watching the white bubbles continually regenerating, the shiny tile in which she could see her shadow.
She was glad she couldn’t see her face.
Lately, she looked at herself as little as possible.
Jack’s warm, firm fingers moved further down her back, pressing at the edges of her spine.
She said abruptly, “When I came in to debrief you about the canisters and you had your shirt off, why did you apologize?”
His fingers stilled. “Where the hell did that come from?”
“Will you please just answer me?”
“Yeah. I’m-” He drew her back into his chest, holding the edge of his mouth against her cheek. “Trying to figure out how to explain.”
“Start talking and I’ll figure it out.”
He huffed. “That’s ironic coming from you.”
“Jack.” The single syllable cracked her voice.
“Fuck.” He kissed her jaw. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. Tell me.”
She felt his chest expand behind her. The room was tranquil for a few suspended moments, the only sound the soothing rush of water pulsing from the tub in a rhythmic circle.
“I thought you were probably repulsed,” he said flatly. “And I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I wanted you to-”
“What?”
She could feel his lips against her neck, curving in a grin. “I wanted you to leave.” He kissed her again. “At least the conscious part of me did. You shut that door behind you and everything was easier for a minute.”
She pulled his arm over her stomach, touching the tips of his fingers. “You do know that’s not what I thought? I wasn’t repulsed. At all.”
“I’m not wearing a shirt at the moment.”
“Shut up.”
“Yes. I know. I don’t-” He sounded surprised. “I don’t think about them. With you.” His voice dropped a fifth or so and he added mischievously, “Unless you’re. . . doing something.”
She closed her eyes. Combating the memories was exhausting, a marathon that mysteriously didn’t stop at twenty-six miles, finish line forever a few hundred yards ahead.
Her thoughts flickered with the candle on the sink. Ideas and pictures floated in and out as she felt the lift of Jack’s chest behind her, the soft slow thud of his heart. She remembered some weird Japanese movie she’d watched with her college boyfriend, where people on their way into heaven first had to choose a cherished memory, which they would then relive for eternity. She thought about blue raspberry slushies in the car with her dad after piano lessons, playing poker under the covers with her sister when they were supposed to be sleeping, drinking beer on college camping trips and watching the sky morph into deep blue darkness and stars, the candles sparking and shifting at Christmas Eve midnight mass.
She thought about the first time she’d fallen asleep with Jack.
“I’m happy. Right now,” she whispered.
Jack swallowed. Paused. His hand tightened on her knee. “Good. Let’s go to bed.”
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Combating the memories was exhausting, a marathon that mysteriously didn’t stop at twenty-six miles, finish line forever a few hundred yards ahead.
Didn't see anything spolierly here, or I didn't notice it.
Jack's response at the end was PERFECT. So him.
The scars, the scars! They are ugly but they make Jack no less beautiful *sighs*
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Anyway, back to this. Hell YEAH she gets his dick in black boxer briefs, lol. That was awesome. I just loved the intimacy of this, the first line in particular really got me. So simple and quiet and comfortable despite all the baggage they have. I'm totally comfortable taking the blame for this. :)
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28 days and counting! *FLAIL*
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I loved the snow globe and apple crisp paragraph, and the discussion of his scars - I had to stop and imagine them with him in the tub and what that would be like, them going all white and gnarly around the edges after a long soak... hrm. But I really liked that you kept it about her. He was almost normal, while she was the broken one.
Eeeeee! Four weeks!
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(Anonymous) 2009-12-21 07:31 am (UTC)(link)“I have no idea.” Jack moved her wet hair aside, kissing her neck, drawing abstract shapes on her shoulder with his soapy finger. “You wanna get out?”
This is all I want out of life. To read/see them like this. Sad. Yet true.
“I have to admit you surprised me though. I didn’t take you for a five-star hotel, Jacuzzi-in-the-room kind of guy.”
It always makes me laugh that I betaed for you before I watched the show because I would have seen this and been like Uh, no. Jack doesn't seem like that kind of person. And now I'm all HE WOULD SO DO THAT! After seeing the knee kiss and all that other stuff, I'm sorta thinking he's one of the most romantic men on TV. Which is why he is AWESOME. Look how chatty I am tonight.
“It was either this or my dick in a box.”
Best icon EVER.
“Yeah. I’m-” He drew her back into his chest, holding the edge of his mouth against her cheek. “Trying to figure out how to explain.”
I love this image of them. That you make them into these people.
Combating the memories was exhausting, a marathon that mysteriously didn’t stop at twenty-six miles, finish line forever a few hundred yards ahead.
Really beautiful sentence.
There was not enough of this.
I think the entire atmosphere of this was so...soothing. It's one of those things where you could be having the most gut wrenching painful conversation but with the right person and the right ambiance, instead of painful, there's hope in it. That's what this is. So much shit went down on day 7(that I am still working through. Uh, I mean watching because that sounds like I need to deal with my issues from day 7 as if I was there.) Right. Shit went down, shit neither of them will ever get over, but in this moment, it just seems like it'll be okay and I LOVE that you can do this.
I'm gonna read this again before bed. MUUUAH.
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I loved it!
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Okay thank you for that. I'll post a better review when I'm not completely exhausted but seriously after the last hellish 48 hours, this happy surprise of a ficlet is exactly what I needed. I didn't even see any spoilers at all (which is a good thing too because I realized halfway that I didn't check before I clicked. I was that tired and that excited to see new fic from you.) Email is on the way later today- (but yeah, am finally home).
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I just love how you used the aftermath of Day 7 and Jack's scars and GUH.
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First of all, Renee and Jack in a jacuzzi together. With champagne and coconut-scented bubbles. GAH HOTNESS.
“I didn’t have a lot of time to think.” Jack sat up a touch and reached for his own champagne. “It was either this or my dick in a box.” HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. SO much love for that line.
“I’m not complaining. I got your dick in black boxer briefs.” She tilted her head to kiss his jaw. “And out of them.” That and her touching his thigh. HOT.
I love the entire next paragraph so much I can't even. "jostled her perspective like a snow globe" A+ comparison. You did such a great job of describing how he makes her feel so happy, both physically and emotionally.
His thumbs pressed into her muscles, hard, the tipping point between pleasure and pain. That line = fucking amazing. And you portrayed Jack SO well in that section because that's totally what he would do. With him, words aren't always necessary, but his actions say it all, and gaaaaaaah fuck me twice on Sunday you're so fucking good at getting into Jack and Renee's heads and knowing exactly what they would do.
The part about the scars made me sad. :( But that was so realistic and I could see it all happening- from Jack hesitating and not wanting to say it and him finally admitting that he was afraid she'd be repulsed by his scars and not wanting to make her feel that way and then her strong insistence that his scars didn't make her feel that way at all. Just. Love.
.Ideas and pictures floated in and out as she felt the lift of Jack’s chest behind her, the soft slow thud of his heart. That line is awesome. I love how it creates a calm and relaxed mood, and how she's able to be at peace and drift off and think about good memories and happy times and knowing that Jack makes her happy and just afjhsuifhnadf.
AWWWWW THE ENDING WITH THEM BEING HAPPY AND GOING TO BED TOGETHER AJAKDFHUAIBNAMBGAUHFNOIUAHNRFIUAHFGIUA HOLY TRIPLE CHOCOLATE FUCKCAKES MY HEART JUST MELTED FROM THE CUTENESS.
This fic made me so happy :) Thank you so much!!!! Seriously, everything you write is just so brilliant and amazing and I'm really glad I get to read it. :D
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What I love most about this entire thing is how intimate it is, how comfortable they are together, how the dialogue stretches from dick-in-a-box (that was awesome and you managed to make it SO Jack and Renee at the same time) to scars and …so believably, too. So fucking AWESOME. Plus just the rawness and meaning behind their nakedness. Just the whole picture was so fucking SERENE and like.. it’s so what I want to do after great sex.
Jack moved her wet hair aside, kissing her neck, drawing abstract shapes on her shoulder with his soapy finger. That’s so fucking sexy sweet. I love how this is all about the connection and not the sex. Like what he’s doing is absolutely hot but what it means… that level of comfort and care… shit.
watching tiny circles of air spiral to the top and explode. Great description. I’m seriously envious of that. I wonder if they had freezer burned brownish strawberries inside.
jostled her perspective like a well-shaken snow globe Shit. Even MORE envious of that.
His thumbs pressed into her muscles, hard, the tipping point between pleasure and pain. I love that you found this really beautiful way of describing something everyone knows with such EXACTITUDE but could never find such great words for. YOU found the words and now there’s no other way to do it. Nope.
Stupid. Her face was wet anyway. Yeah I don’t even know why I love that line so much. Gets me every fucking time.
Jack’s warm, firm fingers moved further down her back, pressing at the edges of her spine. This sounds heavenly and so sweet. He’s so fucking AWESOME. But I really want him to rub my back right now because it’s all tight and he’s doing all the right things to her. He could kiss my neck, too, if he wanted. I wouldn’t mind…
tranquil for a few suspended moments, the only sound the soothing rush of water pulsing from the tub in a rhythmic circle.I just love the ambiance of that. I love how they’re discussing his scars, something that would be sorta a tense subject, but they’re so comfortable with each other that it can still be tranquil. She’s calm, at least about his scars now. And so is he. But I also love that hint of something epically awful lingering in the background. The thing she won’t talk about. It just adds so much to this story and so much to why she and Jack so just… get each other.
I was going to quote the whole list of moments she’s considered living in for eternity. It was so fucking beautifully written with this fabulous balance between childhood and adulthood. It was so in character and so … just. You managed to make that thought at the end of this tie this WHOLE thing together to mean so much more than it would have without it. It was so incredible, and I’m so gonna read this again and again because I keep discovering new things about it’s brief awesomeness and everything you manage to convey in SO few words. Kudos.
She thought about the first time she’d fallen asleep with Jack. Just. Yes. That is so…right.
Jack’s response at the very end was magic. It was so him</>
More please! Sex fic? Coming yet? Love you so much.
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