A/N: Tonight's episode looks like it might feature more heavy, serious themes (but at least Jamko has a storyline!) so I thought a little bit of lighter, fun Jamko was in order. Adult content ahead. Enjoy!

Bored yet?

Eddie scoffs at Jamie's text but she doesn't give him the satisfaction of responding that she is. She's the one who refused to join him at the theater on their night off before their second round of security detail in the Hamptons - choosing instead to relax in her hotel room for a while before going out by herself - so she won't tell him that his prediction was right. She's had a crappy night. With most of the event's headliners and guests arriving throughout tomorrow, there isn't much happening on a Thursday night in Bridgehampton in December. That's why she's spent the last hour or so in the bland hotel bar with a small handful of other patrons who all seem too absorbed in their own worlds to care about anyone else's existence.

Jamie doesn't have to know that, though. All night she's peppered his phone with strategic messages that aren't lies, exactly, but there's a chance she's exaggerated certain parts of the evening. She has no problem letting him think she's having a great time without him.

The thing is that she's had a great time with him too. Jamie spent their entire first weekend complaining about the great sacrifice they're making by doing this security thing, and he's griped about their second trip out to the Hamptons all week. But she sees right through him. He's having as much fun as she is on their little stint away from the city.

And she'd be lying if she claimed she hasn't noticed the shift in dynamic here. It emerged over the course of their first weekend, only to be suppressed out of necessity when they went home. But this morning they picked up right where they left off - with the open undeniable flirting, the wandering eyes and completely intentional touches -

"Ah, so that's why you didn't text me back."

Containing her surprise Eddie turns her head slowly, idly stirring her drink with a single finger on the cocktail straw as Jamie scoots onto the stool next to her. "Why's that?"

"You're so caught up here with all your new friends-"

"Oh, shut up."

His lips curve up into a complacent smile. "You missed me."

"Did not."

"Really? Because I missed you."

"You did?"

"Yeah - it was so weird to sit through an entire show without someone asking questions about body paint in my ear -"

"Shut up, I wanted to know!" She can't help the giggles that escape her as she remembers Jamie's irritation at her quiet running commentary throughout the entire show when they saw Wicked together. "And you just said you were bored without me so…"

"I did not! I said I missed you-"

"Same thing."

"-which was sarcasm."

"There's a little bit of truth to it."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I know you," she tells him, a certain smug satisfaction spreading across her face as she takes in the look of him in dark jeans and a slim-fitting black dress shirt with one too many buttons open at the top.

"That's a big claim for you to be making," he utters.

With a fluttery-lashed roll of her eyes Eddie signals the bartender. "Can he get a Delirium Dark?"

"Coming up."

She smirks at Jamie's suspiciously raised eyebrows as the bartender produces the beer and sets it on a coaster in front of him.

"I'd've gone with the oatmeal stout," he says.

"Just drink your beer."

Eddie takes a sip of her own drink, keeping a sideways eye on him as he gives a dramatic sigh and picks up the bottle. His sudden closeness has a much bigger effect on her than the couple of drinks she's had and she can't quite contain her elation when he begrudgingly admits that he doesn't hate it.

"See? I told you!" she exclaims, nudging his shoulder sideways with her hand.

"Calm down, I still prefer the stout."

"But you do like it."

"Sure, it's alright."

"And see? You'd never know that if I wasn't around."

"Who knows? Maybe I would've tried it."

"You just said you would've gone with the stout."

"Yeah, but maybe-"

"Oh please," she scoffs. "You never try new things. That's why you need me around - to keep your life interesting."

"I try new things!"

"You do not! You do the same thing every day - you're either working, running, at the gym, or at one of maybe two or three bars drinking the same shitty beer after tour. That's it. For you, feeling adventurous means you actually take somebody up on a game of darts instead of sticking at the bar all night."

"What?" he drawls through an incredulous laugh. "That's not true."

"And on Sundays you go to your dad's. The end. That's it. The entire life and times of Jamie Reagan." She smacks a palm on the bartop like she's bringing a sense of finality to her argument that he can't possibly refute.

"I'm not that predictable. Am I?"

She feels the aporetic wrinkle of her brow as she gives a slow nod. "You kind of are."

"Well," he shrugs, "nothing wrong with consistency."

"Yeah there is! Haven't you ever heard of being stuck in a rut?"

"That's ridiculous. I'm not stuck in a rut."

"I'm not saying you are!"

"But then-"

"I'm just saying if I Googled that saying, your department picture would probably show up."

"I'm not the one who spent our night off by myself in an empty hotel bar."

"Right. Instead you spent it by yourself in a dark auditorium, wishing I was there."

"You give yourself too much credit."

"I think I give myself just enough." Eddie coyly averts her eyes as she shifts, untangling her legs before switching them to prop the opposite knee overtop.

She doesn't miss the way he barely manages to swallow his amusement with a sip of beer. "Right - and how's that exciting night out in the Hamptons treating you again?"

"Oh, shut up."

"I mean - that outfit, Eddie," he continues. "You had some kind of night planned, didn't you?"

Eddie sits up a little straighter as his unguarded gaze travels down her body, appreciating the white blouse that loosely drapes over her curves until it gathers to tuck into the sequined silvery-blue pencil skirt that teases a tasteful hint of leg from the way she sits with her knees crossed. "Maybe I just wanted to look nice."

"Yeah right."

"What's that mean?"

"If you're not wearing denim and leather you've got some kind of motive."

"You got any probable cause to back up these charges?"

"Hell yeah I do," he murmurs, and the gruffness she hears in his undertone rekindles those sparks deep in Eddie's belly that she's spent the last week trying to extinguish.

She takes a lazy sip but the alcohol only worsens the sudden burn inside of her. "And what's that?" she manages.

"Well first of all, we both know that this damn hotel bar is the most happening place in this nothing-ass town."

"Nothing-ass town," she echoes through a choking laugh. "Pretty much."

"But hey, we're making the best of it."

"That's the first positive thing I've heard out of you since we came out here."

"Aha - your motive!" Jamie exclaims. "That skirt - it's hypnotizing me, isn't it? Brainwashing me into actually enjoying myself here."

"Right," she teases. "Like anything I wear could actually have an effect on Jamie Reagan through his brick wall of bulletproof boy scout charm."

His eyebrows draw together and he makes a point of assessing her once more. "Looks like you don't know me as well as you think."

It's as much of an admission of... anything as Eddie's ever heard from him, and his words threaten to set something off inside of her that she'll never be able to rein back in. But that's never been a problem for Jamie and if they continue in this direction it'll only lead to a bigger disappointment when he inevitably says the word partners and brushes everything off as meaningless goofing around.

So she has to dispel this, whatever this is, before that happens. She's not about to put herself through Round Two of the bullshit she dealt with a year ago, last time they felt this close to - progress.

"Jamie-" she sighs.

"Eddie."

The way he says her name catches her attention and she arches an eyebrow at him, waiting.

"Maybe we're the ones stuck in the rut. Both of us. Together."

"Maybe - but it's not like you'll ever do anything about it." She tips her head back to finish off her drink to disguise the bitterness she detects at the edges of her deliberately taunting tone.

His jaw clenches with a hard swallow that makes something dark and dangerous and entirely unfamiliar flicker in his eyes. "Watch me."

"What?"

"You heard me."

Something has snapped and this time it doesn't just create a small spark - it's a violent explosion deep in her core that reignites those smoldering embers in a way she can't ignore any longer.

Jamie's done with the games too. He leaves a handful of cash on the bar and slides off his stool, tugging Eddie by the wrist behind him. He hasn't even finished his entire beer. Apparently he doesn't care.

"What are you doing?" she demands through a shocked giggle, hurrying along as fast as she can in four-inch heels she can't remember why she wore.

Jamie doesn't answer as he lets go of her to jump forward and catch the elevator before the door closes. He flattens his palm against the panel so it stays open for Eddie, who falls back against the wall over his outstretched arm. She feels her eyes narrow as she sets her perplexed gaze on the sharp angles of his face, but he doesn't return the look. Letting the door close, his hand moves to rest on her opposite hip instead and he tucks her closer against his side.

He offers a polite nod to the women who share the elevator and his commitment to manners combined with the heat radiating from where his hand presses into her side leaves Eddie choking back laughter.

She steps out of the elevator first when they reach the third floor but Jamie quickly takes the lead again. He digs his key card from his wallet and now she can't help the incredulous giggle that rolls out of her as he passes her room to get to his own.

But Eddie hesitates a safe distance behind him as he keys into his room - suddenly her mind is filled with thoughts of consequences and she won't be able to handle it if Jamie has that realization five or ten minutes from now, just in time to kick her out of his room unsatisfied. She's ready to forget the rules and figure out the rest later - but only if he is too.

When he grabs her hand and all but yanks her forward, pulling her off balance as she stumbles into his chest past the threshold, she supposes she has her answer.

"Jamie!" she yelps, catching herself with her free hand against the swell of his biceps. But it's all she has the chance to say. He hooks his leg behind her to nudge the door closed as his lips crash into hers.

They've kissed before. But not like this. His lips bruise hers, his tongue sweeps her mouth, needy fingers weave into her hair while the other hand snakes around her back to bring her closer. He eases them further into the room as he bites at her bottom lip and all Eddie can do is clutch uselessly at the tight fabric over his chest as she tries not to be left behind.

She's nowhere near drunk but she's lightheaded and airless and wobbly anyway, and her shoes aren't helping. Leaning to one side against the pressure of Jamie's hand at her waist, she kicks one off. She shifts her weight to her bare foot and their mouths finally break apart when he doesn't follow her down to her normal height.

They pause there for a moment, chests heaving. Eddie manages to get rid of her remaining heel. His palms slip down from her waist and resettle at the flare of her hips, where he pulls her into him once she's back on flat feet.

"What are you doing?" she says again.

Jamie meets her glittering gaze and the ferocious heat she finds there sends her stomach into freefall.

"I'm trying new things," he murmurs, and he tips his chin to find her mouth once more.

It's all Eddie needs to let go of that last tiny bit of inhibition that begs her to behave. Her fingers toy with his buttons and his palms skate up her sides, this time taking her billowy white blouse with them, untucking it from her skirt. The feel of his fingertips pressed into the bare skin there draws a moan out of her almost by accident and she arches her head back as Jamie works nipping kisses down the column of her throat.

Their movements are frantic, urgent. There isn't time to drag this out and explore each other - It's as though they're trying to outrun the weight of what they're doing, and if they slow down that weight will settle over them, so slowing down might lead to stopping, and neither one wants to stop.

Eddie can feel it, how his body buzzes for her in the way he shamelessly grabs her ass, trapping her hips against his growing arousal as she shoves his shirt off his shoulders. He lets go of her long enough to help, tugging the cuffs off his wrists while she pulls her own top over her head.

This is happening.

But that's as much time as she has to dwell on it before they land on Jamie's bed. Her skirt rides up her thighs, encouraged by Jamie's palms there where she straddles his hips, tilting hers against him in search of that friction that'll leave them both satisfied and aching for more.

He tips onto his back, pulling her down against his chest with possessive pressure at the back of her neck that rattles the air out of her lungs and sends sparks of pure electricity through her core.

His hands are everywhere at once, scorching fire branding her flesh untempered by the layers of Kevlar and starched uniforms that usually curb her reaction to his touch. It's not enough to shove her clothing out of the way - he needs it gone and he slips fingers under the waistband at the top of her skirt, tugging down at everything that has bunched up, but the fabric has no give to move past the curve of her ass. He gives up quickly, squeezing her hips over the skirt with a frustrated groan that makes Eddie giggle against his skin before she rolls off of him.

The garment is askew, twisted so the discreet side zipper is somewhere towards the front. By the time she finds it and works it down Jamie has kicked his pants to the floor, and then he's on her again, and in all the times she wondered what this would be like she never imagined that nearly-naked Jamie Reagan would be so full of desperation.

Not that she's complaining.

Eddie only lets herself appreciate the muscular expanse of his back for a moment before her hands venture lower to push at the waistband of his boxers. She needs to feel all of him - she aches for him to surround her from the inside out and his fingers pressing against her through her underwear only fuel that fire.

Her back arches off the bed and she angles her hips against his palm, desperate for more. Jamie's fingers slip beneath her panties and work in tight, skilled circles that threaten to undo her already. He ducks his head to give attention to one peaked nipple but in seconds she starts to get too loud and he shuts her up with a crushing kiss as he withdraws his hand.

She whines into his mouth at the loss but then he shifts his weight to the side, one hand joining hers at the ridge of his hip to free himself from his last remaining clothing. Eddie reaches between their bodies, closes her small fist around his erection and the unguarded groan he lets out rumbles through her entire existence. She has no idea why they spent so long pretending this was wrong.

"Condom," he manages, the word little more than hot breath against Eddie's ear. She nods.

Jamie sits up, freeing her pinned arm so she can peel off her underwear. He lunges for his jeans, nearly falling off the bed in his haste and she laughs, earning a side-eyed sneer of faux irritation from him as he shoves her bent knee. But that gleaming lopsided smirk of his surfaces just in time to melt her before he turns back to focus.

He works quickly but compared to the frenzy of the last few minutes it's a small eternity. Eddie's fingers float subconsciously to the simple circle pendant that rests at the top of her breasts, fiddling with it as she gulps two deep much-needed breaths into her airless lungs.

That's it - that's all she gets before Jamie pivots at the end of the bed and plants his feet, pressing his knees into the side of the mattress. In one smooth motion he grips her behind the knees and tugs her forward to bring her hips to the edge of the bed. And then he's inside her and all that air is knocked right back out of her lungs in an unsteady exhale that's louder than she intends.

With his hands pinning her thighs at his sides he works himself into a steady rhythm that already has her muscles quaking with anticipation and pleasure. There's no reason to ease into this slowly - four and a half years of pent up frustration have hurtled them both past any capacity for sense or thought or anything other than how badly they need each other.

Jamie shoves one knee open against the bed so he can lean over her to capture her lips in hungry kisses broken by each intense thrust. Eddie squeezes his forearm, clutches desperately at the white duvet - anything she can reach to assuage the mounting tension that builds in her body faster than she can control it.

There's no oxygen left over for talking - it's all used up in their ragged staccato breaths, punctuated by her needy whimpers and the gravelly moans he tries unsuccessfully to stifle against the crest of her collarbone.

It doesn't matter, though. For now, there's nothing left to say.

He's relentless in the way he rocks against her, filling her perfectly with each stroke, unyielding with a heavenly friction that has her dangerously close to the edge. She drags her nails up the plane of his back until her grip tightens in the hair at the back of his head, and the low "Fuck, Eddie" that escapes him is about all it takes to make her unravel.

"Jamie, fuck - I'm gonna-"

But it's all she gets out before she goes rigid, arching underneath him, every muscle in her body tightening, spasming at the overwhelming onslaught of a pleasure so intense it's like she's lost in the midst of her own spectacular ruin.

When her body lets go so does Jamie's. His thrusts speed up to the impossible pace he's forced himself to hold back - erratic now as he reaches his own end, trembling, his choked exhale escaping him in a throaty grunt against her neck that she never knew she needed to hear.

He finally relaxes against her and she appreciates the solid feel of his body on hers for a moment before he moves onto his back, one of his calves against hers where their lower legs hang off the end of the bed. They lay there long enough for their breathing to calm and that's the only sound - as if they're scared to say anything, to even turn their heads and look at each other, and Eddie lets her eyes flutter shut until she feels the absence of his form beside her.

"Just a sec," he tells her as he props himself up on his arms, then stands and heads for the bathroom.

When the door latches shut she wearily sits up herself, surveying the mess of clothing on the floor. She feels cold, exposed without the heat of him against her and she quickly steps into her underwear and clasps on her bra.

This is usually the part where she makes her quiet escape - but this wasn't just any casual fuck, this was Jamie, and the panic starts to tighten her chest as she scrambles to pull her shirt over her head. Maybe he was right those times he cooled things off before they went too far - this isn't just another kiss they can just brush under the rug, because god, she can still practically feel him inside of her-

"Hey."

She turns around and swallows thickly at the sight of him emerging from the bathroom in fresh plaid boxers. "Hi."

"Come here," he tells her, but he's the one who saunters easily over to her, circling his arms around her waist in a firm embrace.

She knows they'll have to talk about this. She knows things might change now - things will change now - they already have. The thought scares her and excites her at the same time. But for now Jamie chases all that away with a sweet, lingering kiss that offers all the reassurance she needs.

They're Eddie and Jamie.

They'll handle it.