A birthday gift fic for wynnesome at 24nmore dot com. Stop by to say hi and stay for our viewing party June 20! :)

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The alarm clock blazed, crushing the early morning quiet. Jack snapped awake, conditioned to the offensive sound better than one of Pavlov's dogs. He reached over the sleeping form next to him, taking care not to wake her as he stretched. Jack slapped the top of the alarm clock with enough force to send it dangling precariously over the edge of the nightstand. He looked at the ceiling, his hands behind his head as he sank into the pillow. How he wished it was a Saturday.

Beside him, Teri stirred, nuzzling her face against his bare chest in that sleepy, sexy way of hers. He tightened his arms around her. This week at CTU had been the most boring of his life. With no threats to national security and the last member of a major terrorist cell having been apprehended and questioned over a week ago, the bullpen at CTU was eerily quite. He'd spent the last week hand-keying old field reports and transcribing witness interviews. Safely tucked into his little corner of the bullpen, the only danger in sight was that from paper cuts and eye-strain headaches.

Jack couldn't have been more miserable.

Teri snuggled closer to him, humming contentedly. "Do you have to go to work today?" she murmured drowsily. She looked up at him and her cool blue eyes glittered.

Jack stroked her bare back, enjoying a final few moments of closeness before having to get ready for work. "Yeah," he said apologetically. "I have to go." He looked at the abused clock still dutifully keeping time. "In fact, if I don't get moving I'm gonna be late." He stiffened to get up.

Teri moaned, disappointed. She pushed herself up on one elbow, her face just inches from his. Teri could be incredibly coquettish when she wanted to be, and this was one of those times. "Couldn't you go in later?" She flashed her large eyes at him as she splayed her fingers along his chest, slowly moving them through the fine, blond hair there. As if to plead her case, the creamy flesh of her breast peaked above the covering, smooth and wonderfully inviting. He cupped it possessively.

"I shouldn't," he said, his words cut short as she moved to kiss him, but even to his ears it wasn't very convincing. He melted into her kiss, allowing her hands to explore the strong planes of his back and neck, the ticking clock in the back of his mind growing more and more silent. Jack teased the taut flesh of her nipple, eliciting a purr that sent shivers through him.

He held her small waist in his hands, gently guiding her as a lean, athletic leg draped over his middle. As Teri looked down on him, eyes hooded, Jack could feel her desire moist against his belly.

Paperwork could wait.

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As he stepped out of the shower, he could hear the smooth, even tones of a one-sided conversation. He dried in front of the mirror, scrubbing his hair with a towel and listening. It was hard to determine the words or the caller, but it sounded like Teri knew them pretty well. He threw the towel over his shoulder and opened the door to the bedroom.

Teri was standing by the window in a t-shirt and jeans, a cell phone to her ear, her slender neck angled in the morning sun. She acknowledged him with a distracted smile. "Uh huh. Well, I'll see what I can do," she said as she abruptly finished her conversation. By the time he was halfway across the room, she'd tossed the cell phone onto the bed.

"Who was that," he inquired absently. He was still toweling off as he moved toward her, stopping in the patch of sun she'd previously occupied and relishing in its warmth. "A friend," she said dismissively. She chose not to elaborate. Teri wrapped her arms around his middle, absorbing the warmth from his skin. He smelled wonderful...his unique scent mingled with the soap and shampoo to create something otherworldly masculine and perfect. He tightened his arms around her and kissed the top of her head.

"Hey!" she said excitedly, looking up at him in an apparent flash of insight. "Let's get something to eat." Her eyes pleaded with him. When Jack began shaking his head in protest, she ran a hand through his damp hair, leaving soft spikes where her fingers were. "Come on," she said insistently, "call CTU. You're already late."

He smiled, a little lopsided, and his eyes crackled with humor. Teri possessed a zest for life that he envied at times. "Yeah, well whose fault is that?" he said teasingly. She pouted, tucked her hands into the towel wrapped around his waist, inching him closer. "I think we share the blame," she said as she kissed him deeply.

"Do this Jack, for me. Please?"

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It was well after lunch when Jack arrived at CTU, went through the security checkpoints, made small talk with the guards there. Took his place in the purgatory of his gray cubicle.

Jack shuffled some papers around from his latest stack, trying to get into "work mode" after spending the morning with Teri. He smiled, remembering their stroll through the park on the way to the diner, the warm sun on their faces, her hands in the pockets of his light jacket. His bleak little desk couldn't have been more incompatible with the memory.

"Hey daydreamer, good of you to grace us with your presence, huh?" Mason briskly passed by his desk, his too-long tie flapping without the restraining aid of his suit coat. His crisp white shirt was rolled up at the sleeves.

"I called in sick," Jack grouched, looking at the surface of his desk.

Mason didn't crack a smile. "Yeah, you look sick." He pointed to a discolored patch of skin below his left ear, an obvious hickey. "You might wanna go to Medical and get that checked out. Could be serious."

Then Mason smiled, a reflexive quirk of the mouth really but something Jack rarely saw him do. And to his chagrin, Jack reddened a bit under his scrutiny.

"See if you have any stamina left for this, Tiger."

Mason dropped a large stack of files on his desk, the displaced air from the monolith disturbing the loose papers there, sending them flying onto the floor.

Jack glared at the retreating bald spot until his eyes hurt, then looked at the stack of files. CTU's records and information systems were all automated, but District wanted their hard copy fail-safes checked for errors against the computer and appropriately logged with corresponding case numbers. It was tedious, excruciating work, and since there was no imminent national security crisis, the workload was distributed evenly among desk jockeys and field agents alike. The fact that he'd been there only a few months didn't help his chances of getting out of it, either. Cooling in the shadow of the tenuous pile, he wondered absently who he could've pissed off to deserve such torture.

"Hey."

Jack knew the voice, and craned his neck around the colossal tower to find its owner.

Tony Almeida's dark head materialized as he leaned nonchalantly against Jack's encumbered desk. He had the same intense, quizzical expression on his face that was standard for him. Two of his fingers were looped into the handle of a Chicago Cubs mug, the bottom of which hovered over the surface of Jack's desk as Tony talked.

"Did you get to the Hanson file yet?" Tony's droll, inflectionless question was a mere exercise in social grace.

Jack shook his head. "Not yet." He looked at him blankly. "Anything I should know?"

Tony looked away, then chuffed lightly. "That it's a bitch is all. Whole damn football team was brought in on suspicion of terrorist activities. Literally, a football team. Straight from practice." Tony paused, momentarily lost in recollection. "Thank God I wasn't here that day." He clapped Jack on the shoulder, leaning in closer. The contents of his mug splashed a drop or two on Jack's cluttered desk where it was greedily soaked into the papers there. "And you weren't even here yet," Tony said wryly. "But thanks to District, you get to catch up on all you've missed."

Jack looked at him flatly, managing a tolerant smile. He didn't know Tony Almeida very well yet, but from what he could tell he was a good agent. Capable, dedicated, and highly competitive. And, though Tony's face betrayed none of his elation, Jack knew he must be enjoying Jack's plight a great deal.

Jack's day wore on at a grinding pace, the relief of each passing hour discouraged by the amount of work he hadn't accomplished. Around mid-afternoon, his cell phone buzzed.

An interdepartmental text. He looked down at the display. "Conference room for briefing," it said. He peered around the room as, one by one, agents made their way in that direction. Thank God, he thought. Ashamedly, the prospect of some (hopefully) minor national crisis infused him with joy. He secretly smiled, recharged by the promise of his soon-to-be-alleviated boredom.

Jack closed the file he was working on and headed that way. He blandly acknowledged the secure state of everyone's workstations, the frosted security glass of the conference room. Must be "need to know," he thought absently, to practice such precaution. He grabbed the handle of the door and pulled it open.

"Surprise!"

The frosted glass clarified around a group of faces, some familiar and some not, standing near the conference table. Select members of the festive hoard used noisemakers. Others held cups of punch. And, almost as an afterthought, someone tossed a handful of confetti into the air.

Jack stood in stunned silence. Somewhere a bank of lights flickered on, the harsh illumination making him feel even more exposed. The entire contents of the bullpen (and even some desk jockeys from Accounting, it would seem), stood shoulder-to-shoulder in a cheerful mob, yelling congratulations and well-wishes as Jack looked murderously on.

He found Mason, one of the tallest ones. He wore a conical party hat perched on the shore of his receding hairline. It was slightly askew.

Jack narrowed his eyes. "What the hell is this?"

As if in immediate reply, a blond, heavyset woman approached from the crowd. She had a broad smile and held a party blower. He looked across the room, back at Mason.

"Jack this is Rose, president of the Hospitality Committee," he said flatly. Mason looked as pissed and disinterested as Jack did.

"Happy Birthday Mr. Bauer!" the woman intoned sweetly. "This is a new policy we have at District," the woman said as she grabbed him by the arm and led him to the center of the room. She spoke slowly and clearly as if Jack was a child. They stopped in front of a large cake and she looked up at him. "We believe it raises morale," she said with an inexplicable wink.

Jack frowned at the cake, a large sheet cake with "Happy Birthday Jack" piped in red butter cream icing. He looked up, over the table, to see Tony Almeida's amused smirk.

Just when he was about to go off, he saw a familiar woman working her way through the gathering. "None of this would've been possible, of course," continued Rose, "without Mrs. Bauer." A smattering of applause ensued as Teri stood there patiently enduring the accolades, casting furtive, appraising glances at her livid husband. Rose turned and regarded Jack generously. "It's well known how punctual you are, Mr. Bauer, and we needed time to prepare," she said with a smile.

So that's who Teri was talking to this morning, Jack realized. His frown grew deeper.

Teri rushed to his side, hoping to diffuse Jack's obviously sour disposition. She hugged him quickly. "Sorry sweetheart," she whispered into his ear. "Don't shoot everyone, ok?" Admittedly, the thought had crossed his mind.

She smiled up at him, her eyes shining. Teri looked so damn happy it was hard for him to be angry. But not impossible.

Teri looked at his face searchingly, realization dawning. "Oh my God, you forgot didn't you?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "I guess I did." He eyed the smiling assemblage with thinly veiled disgust. "But none of this was necessary," he said a little too loudly. He pointedly eyed the partygoers and they shrank a little in the light of his hard glare. Unfortunately, Teri's being there prevented him from following his original plan of telling everyone to go to hell.

"So what do you have to say Mr. Bauer?" Rose's expectant face beamed at him, very proud of the party she'd planned. Beside Jack, Teri cleared her throat.

"Um, thank you," Jack managed. Everyone applauded.

While the guests picked over the cake, Jack made his way to the perimeter of the gathering, wishing vainly to be absorbed into the wall. Or to die. He closed his eyes.

"Not in the mood to party?" Tony's dry tone woke him from his mental retreat. He opened his eyes to find him standing next to him, the top few buttons of his tailored shirt undone. He proffered a cup, eliciting an eyebrow from Jack.

"It's better than what they're having, I'll tell you that," Tony said in explanation. He smiled warmly. "Go ahead. You're the birthday boy." He quirked his mouth into a wicked grin.

Jack actually laughed. "Kiss my ass, Almeida." It was the first time he'd felt comfortable since walking into the conference room. He downed the drink eagerly and handed him the empty cup.

Tony nodded, still smiling.

Apparently, Jack wasn't the only one who'd had enough. From their place along the wall, he and Tony watched as Mason elbowed his way through the crowd, pitching his cup in a nearby trash can as he breezed toward the door. He passed by Jack on his way out, stopping briefly and regarding him. "Happy Birthday," he said simply. To Jack, it almost sounded like he meant it.

In the middle of everything, Jack watched Teri as she hosted, laughing and talking easily with people she barely knew. She made it look so easy, he couldn't help thinking. Across the room, she smiled, locking eyes with him.

He sighed. "Birthday boy," indeed.

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