This is just a fluffy, light hearted, little Jate one-shot that was inspired by a discussion of "what if Jack overheard Kate say it was her birthday?" I haven't forgotten about my "Dreams, Regrets and Hope" fic, but I just needed a break from writing Jate angst, lol. I hope you all like it anyway :D
Special thanks to Banshee, Loraloubelle, FoxyGirl and StandardBlack for their help and advice ;-)
(Oh yes, and I don't claim any ownership of "Lost" or it's characters ... JJ and ABC are the lucky folks who do.)
"Sweet Intentions"
Sometimes he could be a real glutton for punishment, he thought with a shake of his head. He'd gone down to the beach to check on the laceration on Bernard's knee, still amazed he'd survived the tail section's crash, but as he cleaned Bernard's wound, and absently noted that it was no longer infected, his gaze kept straying to the two figures a little ways down the beach. Their voices carrying over the quiet shore, he could make out portions of their conversation as Kate tried to make some semblance of a hair cut out of Sawyer's shaggy mop. He deftly dabbed a peroxide soaked cloth to Bernard's knee and tried to focus on what the older man was saying. It wasn't that what Bernard said wasn't interesting, it was that he said so much; no wonder Rose was such a quiet woman, apparently Bernard, bless his heart, tended to use up her quota of words as well as his own.
"… which meant we had to go out and get a new TV set after all!" Bernard said with a laugh.
Jack automatically chuckled with him, thinking "TV? What? Wasn't he just talking about his father's WWII service?" Bernard's conversations, it would also appear, jumped around more than an arrhythmic cardiac patient's heart rate.
"Well then, happy birthday, Freckles," Sawyer drawled. "You lookin' for a birthday spankin', 'cause I'd be more than happy to oblige," he leered, eyebrows arched in his typical cocky smirk.
His attention drawn back to them by Sawyer's drifting words, Jack felt a little twinge as he watched Kate cuff Sawyer across the back of his head saying, "don't even try it."
It was Kate's birthday? He wasn't sure why he found that so surprising … people had birthdays all the time, after all. Perhaps it was simply that it seemed like such a normal occasion on this island where time seemed to stand still, even as one day bled into the next with the monotony of an IV's drip. Truth be told, sometimes he wasn't even sure what day it was anymore.
"… Even saved me a chocolate bar," Bernard said proudly, his voice filled with love for Rose.
"Hmmm? Yes," Jack replied somewhat distractedly, his mind split between Kate and Bernard, "I remember her saying something about that."
"Yup, she was always giving me grief about my sweet tooth, and yet …" Bernard's voice receded into the background as once again, Jack found himself gazing at Kate.
He'd already found that she lurked in his thoughts most of the time, but ever since she'd kissed him, he'd been unable to think of anything but her. How could one kiss get him so twisted up, he wondered. God knows that while he had never been promiscuous, he'd certainly never lacked for female company. But yet somehow, in that moment when she kissed him, he was so surprised, he was amazed that his knees hadn't folded underneath him like collapsible gurney. His mind had gone blank for a split second before every synaptic nerve in his brain, every cell in his body, had lit up like the tree at Rockefeller Center. Even as his mind screamed "Stop! Think this over! Are you doing the right thing here!" his body was moving into the kiss; his lips seeking and capturing Kate's own questing ones. When they'd paused for air, his heart had been hammering so hard, he'd thought for a moment that he was going into cardiac arrest.
But then, after all that, she'd stepped back with a stunned look on her face, one that surely mirrored his own, then dashed off into the woods like a child running from what she didn't think was allowed to have. And with his own mental abilities slow to regain equilibrium, all he was capable of saying was a confused, "Kate?" as she disappeared. He'd warred with the notion of going after her, but truth be told, he didn't know what he'd have done when he caught up to her; question her, confront her, or kiss her until they both forgot that the outside world even existed. So, armed with a surplus of sexual frustration and emotional confusion, he'd attacked the woodpile, channelling the sudden energy that thrummed through his body into chopping the branches. They had danced around the topic since then, each afraid, or unwilling, to broach the subject.
And apparently today was her birthday. He'd gathered from what little he knew of her, that the last few years of her life had been chaotic, and he suddenly wondered how long it had been since she'd blown out birthday candles and made a wish …
"… but after my cousin got locked in the reptile house at the Bronx Zoo, his fear of snakes seemed to vanish," Bernard said enthusiastically.
"Um … yeah, well, it's funny how that happens," Jack replied cautiously, coming back to his 'conversation' with Bernard. Snakes? Wasn't he just talking about Rose and his sweet tooth! Honestly, Bernard was a charming and gentle soul, but Jack doubted that even Locke could track the path of Bernard's roving conversations.
Making sure that the bandage was snug but not tight, Jack got to his feet and slung his pack back up onto his shoulder.
"Well the infection is pretty much gone and I'd say you'll probably only need to keep it bandaged for another day or so --- just make sure it stays clean."
Bernard, spotting Rose walking toward them, stood and thumped Jack on the shoulder. "Thanks again, Jack … it's always great talking with you."
Jack met Bernard's smile with one of his own, and watched fondly as Bernard walked toward a beaming Rose as quickly as his arthritic knees would allow. He nodded and smiled in response to Rose's wave, then turned and headed back to the hatch for button duty. He was flying solo tonight, as Sayid was still grieving for Shannon.
Jack paced the confines of the hatch, wondering, not for the first time, how Desmond had managed to stay even remotely sane in here all alone. The alarm sounded the four minute warning and Jack sighed. He'd only been here 104 minutes, leaving more than 4 hours left to go before Kate and Hurley came to relieve him. He entered the numbers into the computer, rolling his eyes at the irony of being stranded on a deserted island, yet still ending up with a button-pressing desk job.
The countdown clock reset, sounding like a blackjack dealer shuffling cards, and Jack drummed his fingers on the tabletop. And as usual, when given a moment's piece, his mind returned to Kate. He should do something for her birthday; it wasn't right to just let it pass.
He wandered around the hatch for the millionth time and toyed with several ideas, rejecting each in turn. Growing increasingly frustrated, he sighed and leaned against the stove. Stove? The kitchen! Birthday wishes and birthday cake! He could make her a cake … he'd had to make one from scratch in high school for home economics once, how hard could it be?
He strode into the pantry and pulled out items he thought he'd need, and felt as if it was his lucky day when he spotted a box labelled "Dharma Initiative Brand Chocolate Brownie mix" pushed to the back of an upper shelf. Pulling it down, he read the directions on the side of the box and quickly gathered what he'd need. On a whim, he snagged several Apollo bars to melt for the icing. Feeling quite pleased with himself, he set about making some brownies out of one of the packages, humming a Green Day song under his breath. This is literally going to be a piece of cake, he thought smugly...
He glared at the computer screen as he punched in the numbers and hit the execute button. There was chocolate on the screen. How in the Hell had he managed to get chocolate on the computer screen! He scrubbed his face with his hands in frustration, then grimaced when they came away smeared with powder. The real question, he admitted sourly, was how had he managed to not get chocolate glop on every surface in the hatch. He'd come close, he thought derisively, but there did appear to be a few clean spots.
So much for it being a 'piece of cake'. The mixer had sent an explosion of chocolate powder in the air, which proceeded to jam the damn thing. His attempt to jiggle it free had sent globs of sticky chocolate lumps flying like sugary mortar shrapnel from some Willy Wonka designed bomb. He rubbed the spot on his cheek that was already bruising from where a particularly vicious chocolate chip had struck him like a sniper shot. In trying to block the confectionary assault to his face, he'd managed to knock the saucepan he'd been preparing the icing in, onto his foot … he was pretty sure that the pot won that battle. He'd finally managed to assemble the batter without loosing a limb or suffering further physical abuse, but then had to contend with deciphering the different settings on the oven. But at last, the brownies, or what was left of the batter not splattered across the hatch, were in the oven, and a few chocolate bars were gently melting on the stove for the icing.
He was heading to the bathroom to wash the chocolate off his face, when he heard movement from the hatch entrance.
"Help's arriv---- Duuuuude… What happened? Seriously, it's like there was an M&M massacre in here…."
Jack froze at the sound of Hurley's voice, and groaned when he heard Kate.
"Jack? Are you okay? Where ---" she was interrupted by a shrill beeping noise, followed by Hurley's "whoa … is something on fire?"
With a sound of choked frustration, Jack darted out of the hall, nearly colliding with a confused Hurley and a bewildered Kate.
"Damn! Damn damn damn damn!"
Entering into the kitchen he could smell the unmistakable aroma of charred food. He opened the oven door, and as smoke rolled out in waves, he unthinkingly grabbed the pan with his bare hands. Dropping it immediately onto the open door, he swore again and turned on the tap to cool off the burned hand. This would have worked perfectly well if he had managed to turn on the cold water tap, instead of the hot water.
"Shit!" he yelped, snatching his hand away from the scalding water. He felt a brush of movement as Kate stepped next to him and turned the water to cold. Guiding his throbbing hand under the chilled water, she looked up at him, taking in the dusting of powder, the smears of chocolate and the bruise forming on his cheek.
"What happened in here, Jack?" she asked, utterly perplexed, shooting a questioning glance over his shoulder at Hurley.
His mumbled response was both grumpy and inarticulate, though she thought she heard the words "psychotic mixer" muttered in there somewhere. Turning to look at the source of the smoke, she saw a charred and lopsided thing that bore no resemblance to anything she could name. "What is that?"
She saw his face redden beneath the stuff on his face, as he sighed, and looked at the smoking object. "Your birthday cake. Um. Happy birthday, Kate."
"My …? Oh! Oh, my …" looking from Jack, to the remains of her cake, to the chocolate carnage in the kitchen, her mouth fell open in realization. She pressed a hand to her stomach as her belly did a happy somersault, even as her eyes welled up with tears. "Oh, Jack …" she said softly, blinking back tears, touched beyond measure that he'd do something like this, well, try to anyway, after all the confusion between them.
His face registered remorse as he took in her wet eyes, and he started to apologize, but she cut him off with a watery laugh. "Jack. Thank you. I … I can't believe you did this for me."
"What? Turn the kitchen into a disaster area?"
"No!" she grinned, "make me a cake. I haven't had anyone … well … let's just say that it's been while, okay?" Giving in to impulse she gave him a hug and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "Mmm … chocolaty," she teased, "did any of it actually make it into the cake?"
He grinned reluctantly, "I think a bit of it managed to, but I can't say for sure. Oh! But there's icing that survived!" he remembered, motioning to the pot on the stove.
"Let's get you cleaned up, and then I'll share it with you." Cocking her head to the side, she studied his face. "How'd you get that bruise on your cheek, Jack?"
"Don't ask."
As they went to the bathroom sink, Hurley shook his head at them. Sizing up the mess he'd need to clean, he muttered under his breath, "Dude, they are so married."