Title: Dinner Bet
Author: Pinkcat4569
Rating: G
Spoilers: No
Description: For Moviefreak4634, Holiday Exchange. Becker cooks Jess dinner and he's good at it.
Disclaimer: I don't own Primeval or the characters
Author's Note: I'm not sure if Moviefreak4634 preferred J/B in a relationship or not, so I have opted for not. P.S. I wanted the bet to be something silly and not drag me off into a new direction that focused on the bet. I have a tendency to get off topic.
Word Count: 3561, yes, its long.
Dinner Bet
It was a normal day at the ARC: Becker and Jess were arguing.
"Yes, it is," said Jess.
"It isn't," answered Becker.
"Wanna bet?"
Becker put down the file he attempted to read, and looked at her. "You mean a real, actual bet?"
She nodded.
He put the file under his arm and walked closer to the ADD. "Sure. You're on. If I win you have to do all my paperwork, including the gun reviews for a month."
Jess rolled her eyes. "I practically do it all now, Becker. Your chicken scratchings do not pass as writing. If I didn't retype them into the computer for you, you'd have no files on file."
Becker smirked. "You have to do my paperwork and..."
"Yes?"
"Wear that blue dress you wore the other day."
She blushed. "I'm not wearing that again until I find a slip. That was not sheer it was transparent. Thank you again, by the way, for pointing it out to me before anyone else had a free show."
He laughed. "No problem. OK, you have to wear that blue dress, with a slip. Fine."
"Really? That's all you want?"
"Yep. Hold it. Do all my paperwork, where the blue dress again, and buy me a huge bunch of prawn crackers."
"Fine. What do I get if I win?" asked Jess.
"What do you want?"
"Hmm, let me think," she said.
"Don't take too long."
"I've got it."
"OK, so which is it, shoes or chocolate?"
"Neither, Mr. Smarty Pants, I want dinner."
"Fine, if you win I'll take you out to dinner."
"No."
"Excuse me? You just said..."
"I said dinner. I didn't say I wanted to go out."
He stared at her. "You want me to order in pizza?"
She swatted his arm. "No, I want you to cook me dinner. If I win, you have to cook dinner-a real, not from a box, nothing instant or frozen-dinner, with wine, or an appropriate substitute drink."
"Wow. That sounds expensive, time-consuming, and a lot of hassle, plus you don't even know if I can cook."
"I'll take my chances. Is it a bet?"
He looked at her, and smiled. "It's a bet. How do we find out who won?"
"Simple," she said. "I'll Google it."
"Is the tomato a fruit?" she said as she typed.
"Hold on," said Becker. "You could get an answer from anybody."
"Oh, right. OK, how about we take the first answer from a respectable answerer?"
"Answerer? Is that a word, Jess? Fine, but we both agree to it."
"Fine. Oh, look the first answer is from the Oxford Dictionary. How about that?"
"Fine," said Becker.
"I even have to click to go to the answer, so we won't find out til we get there. Are we still agreed?"
"Agreed."
Jess smiled and clicked the link. Jess read, "The confusion as to whether the tomato is a fruit or vegetable arises because of the differences of usage between scientists and cooks. Scientifically speaking, the tomato is a fruit.' Ha! Pay up Captain!"
"Hold it, Jess. There's more, 'In cooking, the tomato is used as a vegetable, primarily cooked in savory dishes.' Ha! It's a vegetable! You pay up."
"Wait, wait, there's another line, 'The answer to the question therefore, is a tomato is technically the fruit of the tomato plant but is a vegetable in cooking.' Well, that doesn't help."
"It's a tie."
"No, it isn't. I win. It said fruit first."
"That's not fair, Jess. I win, because the usage and function of the tomato is as a vegetable."
"Who cares? It's a fruit. You read it, 'fruit of the tomato plant.' Now you can cook anything you want as long as it is mostly from scratch. I don't expect you to make your own noodles or anything. You can also choose the day as long as it is reasonably soon, let's say in the next two or three weeks. Have fun," she said, moving away from the ADD. "It was nice betting with you, Captain," she said over her shoulder as she left.
"What the heck just happened?" asked Becker to himself. "I still say it's a tie."
Becker decided that he'd accept the loss to keep harmony at work and his own sanity. Jess could drive someone insane proving a point. The whole ARC had heard about the bet and Becker's loss, and it seemed everyone was interested. He wouldn't say a word to anyone about what he was making, however.
"Just buy a frozen dinner and cook it," said Matt.
"Can't, that was part of the rules of the bet," said Becker.
"And the Captain is a man of his word," said Emily.
"I am, thank you, Emily."
"I say order take away," said Connor. "Throw away the receipts and containers, put the food in your own bowls and she'll never know. That's what Mum does."
"Connor, he can't cheat," said Abby. "I wondered why your mum's vindaloo tasted like that place we go to."
"I appreciate the suggestions guys, but it's fine. I've got it all worked out, and I am cooking."
All four of the team members snickered.
"What?" asked Becker.
"It's just hard to picture you in an apron with an oven mitt," said Connor.
"Yeah, Mate," said Matt. "I can see you cooking outside, over a fire you made yourself, cooking game you shot, but making something civilized, in a kitchen? No way."
"Frankly, I don't care what you think," said Becker and he walked away.
The team stared at each other, stunned.
"Is it just me or is he taking this seriously?" asked Connor.
"It is not you, Connor. He is determined to cook for Jess," said Emily.
"Wow," said Abby. "I think maybe the Captain is trying to impress our young field coordinator."
"Finally," said Matt.
The others giggled.
Becker set the day and Jess arrived at his place for dinner. It had taken forever to decide what to wear. Suddenly it hit her. Becker opened the door to find Jess standing in the blue dress he had included as his prize if he won.
"Nice dress," he said, smiling. "Should I dim the lights?"
"Ha ha. No, I'm wearing a slip."
He laughed. "You look beautiful."
She blushed. "Thank you. You look pretty good yourself."
"I decided no black," he said. He wore tan pants and a light blue shirt. They complimented each other nicely.
He invited her in, and took her coat and purse.
Jess looked around. They stood in the living room, it was neat and uncluttered. There were a few pictures on the wall, his family probably, and some masculine paintings, mostly of landscapes. On a table were displayed medals from his military career.
"So, quick tour," he said. "The kitchen is just through there," he said, pointing to the left, "and over there," pointing to the right, "is the bathroom and my room. That's pretty much Chez Becker. Make yourself at home. I want to check on things."
She nodded and milled around the room. She was looking at his medals when he came back.
"How about a before dinner drink?" he asked.
"What, are you going to throw a can of beer at me?" she asked, not looking up.
He smirked. "How about a white sangria?"
She raised her head and saw that he was holding a tray with a pitcher and glasses. "Wow. Thank you. That sounds lovely."
He smiled and set the tray on the coffee table in front of the couch. He then poured the drinks.
"Real glasses too," said Jess. "I'm impressed."
He chuckled. "Don't get me wrong, I am a pizza and beer guy, but this is special," he said, handing her the glass.
She smiled and took a taste. "Oh, very, very good."
"Is it sweet enough? I can add some sugar," said Becker.
"No, it's perfect."
"Thanks." He gestured to the sofa and they both sat down.
"I'm surprised, Becker, unless, of course, this is some sort of cocktail mix?"
"Oh, no. I found the recipe online, don't look at me like that Jess, I can Google too. Anyway, the recipe seemed easy, and said it was great for both sexes, so I thought, 'why not? I'll shock her."
She giggled. "What 's the recipe?"
"Basically, white wine, vodka, lemon and lime juice, and tonic water. I'll email you the recipe."
She chuckled. "You email now, too? Since when? I can't get you to answer my work emails."
"That's by choice."
"I'm offended."
He laughed. "No where in my job duties does it say that I am required to be computerized."
"No?" She smiled. "So, I'm a little scared. Do these drinks mean you prepared something smashing for dinner or are you faking me out?"
"Faking you out?"
"Yes, you prepare a real cocktail, and then try to snooker me by reheating take away or cooking something from a mix."
"Miss Parker! I'm offended now. I made a bet with you in good faith, and you're questioning my integrity?"
She giggled, and reached for the pitcher of Sangrias.
"Careful," he said. "The website said these have quite a punch to them. I don't want you too tipsy. I happen to have made a brilliant dinner, from scratch, and I want you to remember it and eat your words."
She giggled more. "Someone's confident."
"Yes, I am."
She smiled. "I apologize, Captain. It was nice of you to invite me into your home. I will reserve judgment of your integrity and culinary skills until the end of the evening."
"I'd appreciate it."
"Of course." She smiled at him.
They sat quietly for a moment, and then Becker got up. He returned a few moments later with a simple white plate, decorated only by a brown strip around the edge.
"Appetizer?" he asked.
"You're kidding." She stared in shock, at the plate.
He smiled. "No I'm not."
Jess smiled. "You're trying very hard to impress me." She took one of the skewers off the plate.
"Is it working?"
"Yes...so far" she said, looking at him out of the corner of her eye as she took a bite.
"What you are eating is a mozzarella, melon, and prosciutto skewer."
"It's delicious, Becker. I'm stealing this idea."
He laughed, "It's not mine, of course."
"More Googling?"
He smirked and nodded. "Culinary types, really, why do they have to call it Prosciutto, why don't they just say ham?"
She giggled, and covered her mouth. "Don't make me laugh while I'm chewing. It's not just ham, it's a special type, specially cured in Italy."
Becker raised his eyebrow. "Now I'm impressed."
She laughed. "Don't be. I had to look it up for Lester once. His wife wanted some for a dinner party."
"It is tasty," he said, chewing. "I still say its ham."
She giggled. "This is very nice, Becker. I'm ashamed to say that I didn't have high expectations for tonight."
"I kind of guessed that."
"So, all of this is just to beat me at my own game?"
"I didn't realize you had a game Jess."
"Well, it might have been slightly mean to suggest you cook. Most single, career-obsessed men can't."
"I'm not career-obsessed. I have an important job, one that involves the lives of other people. I have to be perfect."
Jess raised her eyebrow. "No one can be perfect. That's part of your problem."
"Part of it? What's the other part?"
She smiled, blushing slightly. "I'm not saying. I think you were right about the Sangrias. I might be a little buzzed."
He laughed. "Sit here and relax, and let me check on dinner."
A few moments later he came back. "If you're ready, dinner is served."
She smiled. "I hope I didn't say anything wrong. You don't have any problems, not real big ones. All I meant was that sometimes you're a little...closed."
Becker smiled. "I know. Jess, you didn't say anything wrong. By the way, this isn't all about the bet. I wanted to impress you to see you smile."
She broke out into a big, bright one.
"That's the one," he said, and took her hand to lead her to the small table in the kitchen.
The table was set with the same type of plates that had held the appetizer. There was no table cloth but there was a small white vase holding a variety of fresh, spring colored flowers.
"Ah, Becker," she said, smiling.
He pulled out the chair for her, and she blushed as she sat.
"First course," said Becker, "is a simple salad, with homemade Caesar dressing."
"Wow. You know, I think you made a mistake. I'm going to want to come over for dinner every night."
"Sure. I can always order another pizza."
She laughed. "We are not having pizza after all this." She dug her fork in the salad as he sat across from her. She looked up, suddenly alarmed. "Are we?"
He laughed but ignored her. "Eat. Not to rush you, but the main course will be up shortly," he said.
She frowned a little. "It better not be pizza Becker."
He chuckled. They finished their salad, and Becker removed the plates.
"First, a little wine, which I believe you requested."
"I did, thank you." She took a sip. "Very nice."
He smiled, and said, "May I present the main course. Pizza."
He sat a plate in front of her. She sighed. "It's not pizza," she said with a chuckle.
He sat his plate down and sat. "No, it's chicken cacciotore with a side dish of sauteed asparagus."
She smiled, widely. "It looks delicious."
"Can I hear it, please?"
"Hear what?"
"Jess..."
She chuckled. "I apologize for doubting you, and I'm impressed." She smiled again.
"Thank you, and thank you for the smiles. They make it worth the trouble."
She smiled again, and dug in. "Oh, my gosh. It's so good!"
He chuckled. "I'm a little surprised," he said. "I can cook pasta. I can even make a couple of simple sauces, from scratch, by the way. I've never tried something quite this fancy. I was a little nervous, but it wasn't too difficult. I think it worked out well."
"Mm-hm," said Jess.
Becker chuckled. "You like it?"
"Mm-hm."
"Good. I'm glad."
They ate in silence. Finally, Becker asked, "Are you alright? You're quiet."
"Can't talk, need mouth to chew. Mm."
Becker laughed. "Jess Parker speechless. It's amazing, and all it took was a plate of cacciotore."
Jess looked up from her plate briefly to scowl. It made him laugh more.
Finally, Jess plate was spotless. "Ah," she said with a sigh. "You are definitely in trouble. You are making that again for me."
"I'll send you the recipe."
"Oh, no. It won't be as fun if I have to cook it."
"Can you cook?" he asked, clearing the plates.
"Oh, sure. I can make lots of stuff: tuna fish salad, cheese sandwiches, fruit and yogurt parfaits..."
"Uh, Jess, those don't sound too complicated."
She smiled. "Oh, they aren't. I don't exactly mix well with fire, as in stoves. Or toasters. Or grills."
Becker smiled. "OK, maybe I will take pity on you and invite you back sometime, for something actually cooked."
"That would be the humane thing to do, Becker."
He laughed. "Why don't we go sit down, maybe watch some tv and let our dinners settle before dessert."
Jess almost fainted. "Seriously?"
Becker nodded. "I couldn't ask you over and not serve something sweet, could I? OK, technically I didn't ask you over, but that's just a detail."
"This dessert is it..."
"Chocolate?" finished Becker.
Jess nodded.
He smiled. "What do you think?"
She squealed and clapped her hands. He took her hand and pulled her up and they went back to the sofa. Jess flicked through the channels. She looked at him teasingly when she landed on the shopping network, rolled her eyes at the military and sport channels, yawned at the news, and finally settled on a sci-fi movie.
"Oh, no. Connor Temple is here," Becker said teasingly.
"Funny. Yes, me and Connor are in some ways soul mates. He goes too deeply into scientific mumbo jumbo for me, though, and what is his deal with super heroes?"
"I don't know. Why does that guy talk like that?" asked Becker, referring to the main character of the movie.
"He's an alien."
"You've seen this?"
"Of course. It's "The Day the Earth Stood Still." It's a classic. You'll hate it. It's moral is we should all stop fighting and live in peace."
"Sounds good to me," he said.
"Really?"
"Jess, soldiers don't love war. We'd love to not have to fight. We just don't believe in sitting around doing nothing when other people kill or hurt people. Sometimes you have to take a stand. I'd love to live in peace. I think you'd find that most soldiers would."
"I'm sorry," she said. "We all misjudge you sometimes. Just because you live your life in a world where you have to fire weapons doesn't mean you love doing it."
"Well, I wouldn't say that," he said with a smirk. Jess shook her head. "I love guns. You just make the mistake most people make, assuming shooting a gun means that you like shooting people. I don't, at all."
"Actually, Becker, that's a good point, and I have to say I don't think I do. I don't think anyone at the ARC who really knows you, thinks you like shooting people. In fact, I know that you don't."
"Good. That's a relief."
She smiled. "I don't understand, however, your obsession with the gun itself."
He laughed. "And I don't understand your obsession with the shoe itself."
"Touche. Can we have chocolate now?"
Becker laughed, "Sure. Wait here."
Becker came back with two cups of coffee and a bowl of chocolate balls. Jess looked at him. He smiled, and said, "Chocolate covered truffle?"
Her eyes grew enormous and she snatched the bowl from him. He laughed and sat beside her, drinking his coffee.
"Oh...my...gosh. Mm..." She then flopped back against the couch, clutching the bowl, and rolled her eyes. She continued the "mm" sounds.
"Uh, Jess, you're kind of embarrassing me with those sounds."
"I can't help it! There is nothing better, and I mean, nothing, then homemade chocolate."
"Nothing? Are you sure?"
"Yes, now shut up and let me eat my truffles. Oh, thank you, by the way."
He shook his head and continued to laugh. "I should have expected this reaction."
"Yes, you should have. I hope you don't think you're getting any of these."
"No. They are all for you. I tried a couple earlier. I had to, you know, tasting your food is part of cooking."
"You did very well, Captain."
He laughed. "So, is my payment of the bet fulfilled?"
She nodded. "But feel free to bet and lose again anytime."
He laughed and leaned back to be next to her. "I'm kind of glad I lost."
"Me too."
They watched the rest of the movie and Jess finished the chocolate.
"I guess I should go," she said. "It's getting late."
"OK. Do me a favor, and call me when you get home."
Jess raised an eyebrow.
Becker chuckled. "I just want to know you got home alright."
"Aw. I'll call."
He helped her on with her coat, and handed her purse to her.
"Thank you," she said. "It was a very nice evening."
"Yes, it was. You can come over anytime. I may not cook, though."
She giggled. "Too much of a good thing I guess, goodnight."
"Goodnight, Jess."
She opened the door and stepped out, but then she hesitated and looked at Becker.
"You OK?" he asked.
"Fine. I'm just wondering if I have enough alcohol in my system."
"For what? I can call a taxi for you, or Abby if you think you've had too much."
"No, it isn't that. I...want to do this," she said and kissed him. It wasn't long but wasn't horribly brief either. She pulled back and lowered her head shyly. "Um, thank you, again."
"Jess?"
She looked up at him. He smiled and gently pulled her closer. This time he kissed her and it was much longer. When they stopped, they stood in each other's arms silently.
"I hope you don't mind," he said at last.
"Not at all," she said. "I'm going to have to insist that we do that again."
He smiled and they leaned in to each other until they were kissing passionately.
"I better go."
"Yeah, or I won't let you."
"I wouldn't mind...staying, but maybe not on the first date. Not that this was a date. I wouldn't mind if you thought that it was, but I..."
"Jess?"
"Yes?"
"I'd love for you to stay, but maybe it's best if you don't, since it is our first date."
Jess smiled. "Does that mean we can have a second?"
"Definitely, and a third, and a fourth..."
She kissed him again, and he held her tightly.
"Yeah, I better go."
He laughed, caressed her cheek, and nodded. "Call me."
"As soon as I get home, I promise," she said.
She took a few steps, and he said, "Jess? That was the best bet I've ever lost."
She smiled, nodded and left.
The End
Author's Note: If you read my Twelve Days of Christmas story, there is a chocolate truffle scene in it as well. I wrote this first, and it inspired the one in Twelve Days. I kept it in this story because the website I used for research, claimed truffles were easy to make, and I wanted Becker making some for Jess.