Title: Drive to Distraction

Author: Mindy

Rating: K+

Disclaimer: Tina's

For: hamnapkin

Prompt: peep show

Spoilers: "Reunion", Retreat to Move Forward", "Stone Mountain".

Pairing: Jack/Liz

Summary: Liz distracts Jack.

-x-

Every time he and Liz venture somewhere together, Jack learns something new about his best friend.

For instance when he got stranded at her High School Reunion on his way to Miami. Amongst other things, that night he learnt that Lemon was a jerk back in the day, a big old bully. Of course, Jack knew she was not now and doubtless never was capable of hurting a fly. That is, unless the fly was after her sandwich. He also learnt that despite any former or occasional current jerkiness, being locked in a closet with Liz Lemon when they were meant to be making out like horny teenagers was an experience that made his gut tremble and his hands itch.

The next instance would be when he asked Liz to accompany him to the Six Sigma Retreat. She only came because he imagined he might need her. And just when he thought he didn't, she came through for him in the most stunning, unexpected way. After that trip, after what she did for him, he wondered whether they were heading for an outpouring of emotion, an emphatic confession of deeper feelings on her part. But when they came to discuss it, Liz simply assured him that she only did what friends do. And with that, she walked away.

A year later, Jack was still learning or re-learning things about Lemon. For instance when they went to Stone Mountain together. He learnt that despite how ill she was feeling she would always stand up to him. Or a mouthy southern puppet with a dirtbag attached. Or both. Or all three. She called him out when most people would've just let him steamroll right over them. Liz never gave up, gave in or played dead. Which reminded him of why he initially became beguiled by her. Jack also learnt that -- even without makeup, sleep and having brushed her teeth -- he still liked Liz Lemon a whole lot. Sometimes, distracted by his various business dealings, he forgot how much.

On this trip, it seems that Jack is once again about to learn something new about his friend. Something interesting and intimate. This time, he is about to learn what Lemon looks like in her bra. One former trip of theirs and Liz's lackadaisical approach to workplace propriety have already afforded him a glimpse of this sight, though they both behaved like this was no big deal. And perhaps to Lemon it was. So perhaps to Jack it should be. But Jack is a man. And a woman in her underwear, no matter who the woman is or how plain the underwear is, will always be a bit of a deal to him. In truth, he'd be a little concerned if it suddenly wasn't.

The reason for Lemon's impromptu striptease is that once again she has been partaking of the local cuisine and once again, it is not agreeing with her worldview. They have been driving down a long stretch of darkened highway, stopping every ten minutes for Lemon to get out and blortch by the side of the road. The last time she did so, she apparently got a bit of blortch on her shirt. So when she returned to the car, looking bedraggled and sorry for herself, the front of her shirt rinsed with splashes from her water bottle, she stuck her head in the window and told him to pop the trunk. Jack obeyed, humming along to the radio and chewing sticks of gum as she retrieved a clean shirt from her luggage then flopped onto the back seat.

"Okay," she huffs at him now. "Drive. Before I have to get out and defile this fine countryside of ours again."

Jack puts the car in gear but doesn't press the gas. "You're going to change back there?"

"Sure," she shrugs, glancing out at the deserted road. "Who's gonna see?"

He twists in his seat to look at her. "I'm right here, Lemon."

She rolls her eyes and starts to unbutton. "So what? What d'you care?"

Jack faces front, turning up the radio as though this will create some sort of buffer between him and the peep show happening in back seat. He adjusts the rear view mirror, though he's not sure whether he's trying to get a better view or whether he's wanting to block her out entirely. The tyres skid as he accelerates away from the roadside, causing Liz to lurch to one side, toppling over on the seat.

"Hey! Ow!"

"Sorry," he mumbles, catching a glimpse of her rubbing the back of her head. "Sorry," he repeats, averting his contrite gaze from her accusing glare in the mirror.

"Hey, can you turn down the air con?" she mutters as she fidgets around behind his back. "It's really cold back here."

Jack obeys, making a mental effort not picture the effect the cold blast of air might be having on her chest region. A task that is not helped in the least by Liz popping her head over his shoulder, her shirt hanging open, her breath puffing against his collar. Thankfully, she had sense enough to suck a mint.

"Um, Jack?"

"Yes, Lemon?"

"I realize you've spent alot of time overseas," she murmurs, voice right by his ear.

He chances a sideways glance at her. "Yes, so?"

She bites her lip, nodding ahead. "Well, you're driving on the wrong side of the road."

"Good God," he mutters, swerving the car back to where it should be. The sharp movement jostles Lemon between the two front seats then pitches her backwards. She lands on her butt with a disgruntled 'blerg'.

"Nice," she grumbles as she rights herself: "Are you trying to make me throw up?"

"It's a little distracting," he replies reproachfully: "You…doing that back there." From the corner of his eye, he can see her flick her shirt off her shoulders and throw it aside.

Liz stops, her tone innocent and surprised: "I'm distracting you? This is distracting for you?"

"More than a little," he mumbles, clenching the steering wheel with both hands.

A moment later she's leaning over his shoulder again, a fresh, white t-shirt on. She pats his arm once. "That might be one of the nicest things you've ever said to me, Jack." Then she is clambering over the console, kicking his elbow as she does, dropping down into her seat with a sigh before fastening her seatbelt.

After a minute or so of silence, Jack flicks off the radio and takes a breath. "Lemon, I'm going to tell you something now and I hope you can take it in the spirit with which it is intended."

Liz frowns, bracing herself. "Sure, go right ahead."

He adds, tone more strenuous: "And this is not to say I was peeking at all, alright?"

"Alright."

"Your knockers are not out of line."

"Oh. Okay…"

"In fact," he elucidates in a resolute tone of voice: "your breasts, as any civilised man would refer to them, are perfectly fine. Nice, even."

Liz dips her head politely. "Well…thankyou, Jack."

He nods back, just as polite. "You're most welcome."

"And your head is not so big," she adds, waving a finger at his head: "Well, it is a bit. But…it suits you."

"Thankyou Lemon," he murmurs with a touched smile. "Your breasts suit you. They're…modest but…oddly appealing. And there is absolutely nothing about your mouth that is hooker-ish."

For a moment, Liz bobs her head thoughtfully. Then she suddenly blurts: "So I'm gonna say something now that I hope you can also take the way it's meant."

Jack glances across at her. "Very well."

She swallows hard. "What I am about to say is not in any way reflective of our current conversation. Alright, Jack?"

"I understand," he replies. "Please continue."

Liz turns to him, face lined with agony. "You need to pull over again cos I'm gonna hurl."

END.