For klarolineepiclove on Tumblr. Prompt: Jecker, laundry, fluff.
(My prompt!fics tend to get a little off tangent sometimes... And are certainly longer than the drabbles they're meant to be)
It was all Connor's fault, really.
He was the one who volunteered the use of Jess's washing machine and tumble drier so that Becker, who's own washing machine had broken, could do his laundry.
It was Connor who said it would be no problem. Connor who gave Becker his key and told him the flat would be empty on Saturday morning. Connor who'd insisted that he and Abby would be away visiting her brother and that Jess was away on a hen weekend for one of her friends.
It was Connor who should have either told Jess what he'd done, or maybe even asked her for permission, and definitely double checked that his flatmate-slash-gracious-host hadn't had her plans changed at the last minute.
Yet Connor wasn't there, in Jess's flat, at 9am in the morning, staring dumbstruck at the person who shouldn't be there.
Becker stared at Jess, his mouth agape as his mind raced desperately to come up with an explanation.
Jess stared at Becker, torn between mortification that the ARC Captain had caught her so unaware and confusion at what he was doing there - how he'd gotten in - in the first place.
"What are you —"
"— doing here?"
They stared at each other for a moment more.
"Connor said it would be okay," Becker eventually managed, tearing his gaze away from the vest top and short-shorts that obviously passed for nightwear in Jess's eyes. "He said you'd all be away for the weekend."
"I was supposed to be, but Ella caught a bug and — wait, what are you doing here anyway?" Jess cut herself off mid-sentence and, similarly, tore her gaze away from Becker (who was wearing blue jeans and a light grey t-shirt, her brain screamed, still struggling to compute that the soldier had colours other than black in his wardrobe), to properly take in the picture in front of her.
Becker, in her flat.
Becker, in her kitchen.
Becker, putting his dirty clothes into her washing machine?
"You're doing your washing?" She didn't know whether to laugh at the strangely domestic act, or the response her incredulous question garnered.
Becker blushed. He blushed. He lifted a hand to run his fingers through his hair and somehow managed to look embarrassed and sheepish and yet somehow adorable all at the same time. "My machine's broken. Connor said it'd be okay…"
Jess had to laugh at that. "Since when do you listen to Connor?"
The beginnings of a grin caused his lips to twitch. "This might be the first and last time." Recovering his composure somewhat, Becker gave her an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Jess. If I'd known you were here, I would've found somewhere else or at least knocked."
"It can't be helped. Not if Connor said it would be okay." She rolled her eyes. "Why don't you finish loading the machine and put the kettle on while I get dressed? You're here now. Might as well as finish what you've started."
She didn't give him much of a chance to argue, turning on her heel and leaving - almost fleeing - the kitchen. Thanks to the open plan of the flat, he was able to watch her all the way to the stairs leading up to what he presumed were the bedrooms.
After standing for a moment staring in the direction in which she'd gone, Becker realised what he was doing and forced himself to snap out of it, following her orders instead.
When Jess returned - fully dressed with brushed hair - it was to find Becker standing awkwardly next to the island in her kitchen, two cups of coffee waiting.
Smiling at him when he offered her a cup, she led the way from the kitchen to the living room of the flat. They sat down in silence, each trying to focus on their drinks instead of the other and failing not quite so miserably.
"I can leave if you want," Becker offered after a while. "Let you get on with your weekend."
Jess shrugged a shoulder but couldn't quite meet his eye. "I've got no plans. Connor was right; I am supposed to be away this weekend. But like I said, Ella - that's the bride - she's come down with some sort of bug. Well, she says it's a bug, I have my suspicions its something else but who knows. Whatever the cause, we all agreed to cancel and rearrange it for another time."
"That's a shame," he gave her a shrug when she looked at him. "You must've been looking forward to it."
"Not really," she admitted, "a night of drinking and dancing, I can handle. A whole weekend of it…" Her expression was rueful. "It's not really my thing. Now the spa weekend Abby wants to book for her hen do, that I'm totally on board with."
"You got lucky there." He gave her a pained look. "Connor's decided he wants to go to a Sci Fi convention."
His expression was enough to make her laugh and shake her head. "I'm sure it won't be that bad." Still, the thought of Becker attending a convention, having attended one herself before, made her smile. "Buck up, Captain. I'm sure it won't be the worst thing you've seen. At least there'll be no man-eating dinosaurs."
"Hopefully. Though if you've just jinxed it, I'm holding you responsible."
"Understood." Jess took a sip from her coffee to hide another smile. "So do you have plans for the weekend? Other than breaking into my flat to do your laundry?"
"I used a key; there was no breaking in," Becker pointed out, but Jess noted with delight that the tips of his ears went red. "And no, no plans. Just a quiet weekend."
"Hopefully," she mimicked him with a teasing grin.
Silence fell between them again, but both were relieved it was more comfortable than awkward.
"If you're not doing anything," Becker began, his gaze intent on the remains of his coffee rather than on Jess herself. "We could, maybe, go out for lunch? Well, brunch, I guess. My treat," he continued, "as a thank you for letting me use your washing machine."
She bit her lip against pointing out that technically, she hadn't - well, not originally - and tried to keep from smiling like a fool. "You don't have to do that," she offered instead, mentally crossing her fingers he wouldn't rescind the offer.
"I'd like to." He looked up and caught her eye, his expression both hopeful and shy. "If you want to."
"I do." She felt her cheeks heat, both at her answer and the speed in which it was delivered. "I mean, I'd like to. If you're sure."
"I'm sure." A slow grin stretched across his face, matched by an answering smile on hers.
It was all Connor's fault, really.
But neither was going to tell him that.
End