A/N: I had the main premise of jail as the starting point for weeks but the story just kept waiting. Then I complained big time how these two are no fun (as in unable to have fun), and yeah. Sorry, not sorry. Jacob started it with his joke. This is the smuht practice piece, the proper smut comes on a later one-shot, in the notorious letter 'P' to be exact (so about... three to four months away :P).

Timeline-wise very late on the spectrum, probably even the one furthest into the future of all the 26 pieces.

J is for Jail

"I must admit that you have an interesting idea about celebrating an anniversary," he remarks. It's not a loud admission but given that they are the only two people in the cell block, it's enough.

Lara turns to look at him sharply from where she stayed standing after the policemen left, discarding her explanation – and bribes – on why they were found crawling from a pilgrimage sight, covered in dust and a car full of gears that could have protected them against an apocalypse.

"Very reminiscent though," he remarks calmly, managing to keep the amusement over Lara's frustration out of his tone beautifully.

She glares at his languid posture again but it's without the ire, and in its place, the amusement catches up with her.

Still, it takes time before the great Lara Croft, the Tomb Raider, as her name is whispered these days, resigns to the patience, and sits down on the bench in her cell with an aristocratically kept cool serenity and a cloud of dust that the motion releases from her cargo pants and the tank top.

Jacob feels his smile broaden at the sight, but he tries not to show it and leans his back against the wall as an epitome of patience. He doesn't really mind this turn of events, it's not what he had planned for the day, but their plans usually go awry anyway, and they have time, time is what he has in spades – especially now.

Eventually, even his ability to withstand boredom fails, and he walks up to the bars that separate them. He guesses that he must look like a lovesick puppy; to his unease, he feels like one at times. It is still their anniversary, the celebration to have been given the grace to marry the woman he loves.

"By any chance, did you happen to destroy another one of my tombs before this?"

The casualness of his question brings a speck of confusion – followed swiftly by mild exasperation – in Lara's expression, and despite not knowing his endgame, she can read the joke. "Do you have other tombs aside from Syria?"

He is not at all surprised that that is the part that draws Lara's attention but it's beside the point to him. "I died once on the exodus," he explains nonchalantly but with a warm tint that he knows Lara can spot, "So, in essence, the opportunity was there."

"It's a little far from here. And we've been a bit busy," she retorts, and he can read in her every muscle how bored she is now that all the action and adrenaline from the last few days are behind them.

He smiles at the overplayed regret in her tone and copies it to his own observation with stronger sincerity: sad resignation is his trademark. "So, foreplay was not in the stars this time around."

Lara's snort echoes in the austere cellblock. His words, however, achieve two hits as Lara stretches her legs and gets up to meet by the bars. "I guess no. Sorry," she states and leans closer, bringing them face to face, "I didn't know that it was a kink of yours."

He encircles her left-hand fingers where they grip the same bar as his, and he adores quietly the texture and warmth of her hand compared to the metal bars. They've both already checked that there are no cameras, and they are simply waiting for Jonah to come and pay the bails. "It's a limited one," he acknowledges softly with his low voice and raises his brows for an extra challenge, "Expensive."

"To build you a new tomb on every special occasion?" Lara tilts her head in contemplation with a slight eye-rolling, but then she leans very, very close and presses her lower body against the bars, "I am quite rich."

The knowing amusement on his face nearly overtakes the sadness in his eyes, "Slow."

"Building?" Lara asks and turns her right shoulder a hint away from the bars, leaving him to follow the movement of her ponytail, "Depends on what you'd want. Your past tomb was a bit …lavish – one of the biggest I've seen, actually. – And what I remember, wasteful, unused even, before it was destroyed."

Always so straight to the point.

This time, it's his turn to lean in closer and feel the coldness from the bars radiate against the sides of his face, "And yet, I remember hearing tales that you used it."

"True, but you can try a bed at Ikea and it doesn't count as a purchase," she replies and leans in to place a peck on his lips which leaves them both to read each other in an unbroken stare.

It takes some maneuvering to deepen the kiss with the limited space, but it has to be the easiest challenge they've faced this week. He crams his left arm through the bars and pulls Lara's body flush to his. Never one to come off second-best, Lara raises her right hand to play with his hair. The bars feel cold and hard between them, but Jacob wouldn't be surprised if that would only work as a kink for her. Moreover, he finds it incredible how she brings these feelings out of him, the carefreeness, the noncompliance, the ability to be just Jacob instead of the Prophet.

"Your jacket," Lara gasps quietly against his mouth.

He stops long enough to get Lara to open her eyes so that he can see that they are surely on the same page. He steps back to scramble out of his light canvas jacket and pushes it through the bars to Lara's side. She wastes no time in tying it on her waist to cover her lower body.

He immediately uses the extra freedom to open her zipper and tuck her pants downwards to gently caress the curve of her backside.

He can see the exasperated amusement in Lara's eyes; and she is not interested in words, so she simply wiggles closer to free him from his trousers in turn.

His earlier prediction hits right because there is very little foreplay amidst the danger of being walked on – apart from their banter at least. Thus, it doesn't take long at all for Lara to lick her hand for more lube – not that she needs any with the tension between them – and give him a few strokes before guiding him slowly into her heat.

The bars take some of the depth, making the set-up an acrobatic act in its own right, but they'll make do. Lara hangs from one bar with her iron grip and pulls herself up to help simulate the pushes while aiding him with a hand job with her left hand. Their kisses are sloppy and almost impossible with the obstacle between them, but he uses both of his hands to steady Lara and keep her lower body at the right height and angle.

It takes more work than normal, but he eventually comes inside of her with a low, blissful grunt.

He complies as Lara mumbles to him to pull out. Moreover, he can see the slightest of quivers in her right arm when she finally gets the chance to lower herself back on the ground.

He wipes himself clean with his hand, and while he fastens his trousers, he makes a mental note to put his boxers into the wash once they get out of here. Lara doesn't say anything but raises one brow that orders him not to take any more time than necessary before getting back to her.

To his blessing, she is still wet and warm when he squeezes his hand through the bars and guides Lara backward to get enough room for his fingers. There is a moment of anxiety in his mind, because he doesn't want to get his arm caught here. Lara would without a doubt laugh at it for years to come, but he doesn't want to face Jonah's sigh when the bail money has been mysteriously increased to pay for his rescue operation.

"Steady," Lara murmurs with half-lidded eyes. He's done this about a thousand times, but she is so reactive that every time is a little different. Still, it's not the first thing that he had thought that he'd be doing on this trip – at least in these circumstances – but he coaxes her into an orgasm while keeping her in place with his other hand. The bars leave imprints on his chest and face as he fights for the right position. However, he cannot stop the small, satisfied smile from escaping to his lips as Lara finally shudders against his hand and she presses her breasts and upper body against the bars to get closer to him.

She immediately follows his withdrawing hand with the rest of her body and presses her forehead against one cold pole of metal. Her absent-mindedness doesn't stop her from keeping her eyes on the mission, though, as she wipes her hands clean on the less-dusty lining of his jacket and pulls her trousers up.

They share a long quiet chuckle, and Lara wonders lightheartedly what they'd have thought if he had prophesied this on them back at their first meeting in Siberia.

They do nothing for the rest of the night, except sit on the different sides of the bars and hold hands. It'll need a peaceful state of mind to win over Jonah who has driven to rescue them once again all through the night - at least they are not on another continent this time around.

"Next year?" he asks half-asleep at some point. They rarely plan the future, knowing that their lives are far too unpredictable and the world far too hazardous for that. But it's a special occasion and the question gets a tired but warm smile out of Lara.

"We'll have to top this next year."

He isn't sure if she is talking about saving the world or the anniversary-sex, but he agrees with her either way with a hum, squeezes her fingers, and feels content when she returns the gesture.