Chapter 15
Jack collapsed onto the bed, her eyes instantly slamming shut. All that existed was the mattress under her, the pillow fluffing around her head, her soft cotton pajamas, and the soreness. Her whole body hurt. She figured the shower would help keep her from tensing up after the workout with Riddick, but it didn't. She ached all over. Her temples throbbed, face still warm, embarrassment still clinging. Shoulda known better than to do that, Jack, she scolded herself. Completely inadvertent, but still. Anatomy is anatomy. She sighed and pushed the thought away, slowly lulling into sleep.
Riddick was equally as tuckered out. He felt sleep looming as he sat in the pilot's chair, watching the distant stars laze by. He sighed contentedly. He'd missed having a sparring partner. That was one of the few good things about Slam. There was always someone to fight with. Granted, most of the time it didn't qualify as sparring. More like an all-out melee, he thought with a smirk. As he drifted off, he flipped through his mental photos of Jack's many expressions filed away in his memory, a small smile remaining.
Jack woke in a fog, giving up on prying her eyes open further than a narrow slit. God, I must have slept hard, she thought, shaking her head. Not a good idea. Her neck warmed in protest, head spinning and face throbbing. Shit. Harder than I've ever slept before. She shuffled into the cockpit, finding Riddick punching away furiously at the mainframe's keyboard. She mumbled a 'good morning,' which was almost indecipherable, and flopped into the co-pilot's seat.
"Sleep good?" She mumbled again in response, suddenly wanting to crawl back in bed and go back to sleep. He chuckled next to her, back still turned. She just sat there, dazed, groaning every time she moved. "Sore today?" Another mumble. "Shit, Jack." She pried her eyes open. "Are you okay?" She shrugged, groaning as she tried to sit up. "Jesus Christ."
"What?" She finally got her eyes open all the way. They had to be bloodshot with as scratchy as they felt. "Soreness is normal, Riddick."
"Yeah, but bruises aren't." Her eyebrow rose. Hell, even my hair is sore.
"What bruises?"
"I didn't think I hit you that hard yesterday."
"What bruises, Riddick?" He just looked at her, so she got up and went into the bathroom to look for herself. "Wow." It was all she could think of. "What did you do to me?" He appeared in the mirror behind her, concern written all over his face. He sat on the edge of the tub. She had a large bruise on her cheek, and another right above her eyebrow. The injured one. What had been a healing cut yesterday was now swollen and red, the edges dry and peeling. She turned on the cold water and splashed her face.
"I'm sorry, Jack. I didn't know I was—"
"It's not a big deal, Riddick," she said, her voice echoing against the sink. "It'll go away."
"Yeah, but—"
"Will you stop?" She grinned over at him. "Battle scars. Really, I'm okay." He still looked concerned as she leaned forward to inspect her cut more closely. "Cut's not doing so hot though," she said slowly. Riddick would have laughed at the face she made to see her wound, if he weren't so pissed off at himself for not being careful enough.
"C'mere," he said, standing. She sat on the counter again, watching him prepare to clean her cut, once again hissing at the peroxide. His hand cupped her cheek as he smeared some antibiotic goo on it before pulling her against him. "I'm sorry, Jack." She shook her head.
"I guess we're even now." He pulled back to look at her, eyes questioning hers. She blushed, and he made the connection, laughing a little.
"Yeah, I guess so. You got the worse end, though," he said, stepping back so she could slide off the counter. She shrugged.
"Add the jail thing and it balances out."
"Will you stop treating me like I'm made of glass?" Jack was pissed off. Another sparring match was under way. Her bruises were almost gone, cut almost completely healed, and he still barely swatted at her. She threw a series of punches and followed with a few successful kicks. She stopped, hands on her hips, and glared at him. "I'm not fragile, Riddick. I can handle this." His eyebrow rose. "Jesus fuckin' Christ! What's the fun in sparring if it's harder to beat up the God damn punching bag?"
"I don't want you looking like ground beef, Jack," he said slowly.
"I don't care if you don't want me looking like ground beef," she retorted, voice raising a few levels. "I want a fucking fight, okay?" He sighed. "How am I gonna learn to handle myself if I don't have anyone to teach me?"
"Jack, if you have to go into town after we work out, and you look like you did a few days ago, there's gonna be trouble no matter what planet we're on, and I'm not talking child welfare services." She laughed, doubling over. The more he watched her laugh, the more his smile grew. After she got herself under control, she straightened and walked over to him, leaning up on her toes to get her face closer to his. His smile fell, eyes suddenly entranced on her lips.
"I think we could handle that between the two of us." She smiled up at him coyly, but it dropped quickly as she wrapped an arm around his neck and tried to wrestle him to the floor. "If you start fighting back, you motherfucker," she finished, not getting him anywhere near the floor because of her intruding laughter. His arm wrapped around her belly, gripping her side tightly before he flipped her completely over, sending her to the floor with a strangled "hughngh." She fought to get the wind back for a few moments, but lost it in another fit of laughter. She barely managed to lift her foot to knock him to the ground with her, but he landed hard, sprawling into a laughing heap. "Well, that was fun," she said, once she regained her composure. "My cheeks hurt." A few sporadic chuckles broke the silence here and there. She rolled over onto her side to face him, propping her head up on a hand. He was still grinning.
"You're gonna be the death of me," he sighed.
"You can't be tired." He looked over at her. "You didn't do anything but stand there," she teased, reaching out to punch his shoulder playfully. He caught her wrist, pulling her across his chest. His other hand ran through her hair, his face now serious.
"I'd never to anything to hurt you, Jack." She blinked a few times. He sighed, letting his hand drop to her shoulder, thumb running slowly across the side of her neck. "Not intentionally, anyway," he added quietly, a smug expression clouding his eyes. She just stared back at him, not knowing what to say. "Promise me you'll tell me if I do." Her brows knitted. "I don't think I'd catch on unless you just told me." She nodded slightly. They lay there, just staring at each other for a while, until Riddick cocked his head and a lazy grin spread over his face.
"What?" She tried to pull back, but he'd snuck an arm around her waist. "What are you plotting?" His smile was contagious, even if she was suspicious of what he was getting ready to do. She shrieked as he started to tickle her, wriggling out of his grasp and running for the door. He caught her a few paces away, dragging her, screaming, to the floor. She kicked and struggled against him, but couldn't get away. "Riddick, stop, please." Another shriek, followed by violent laughter. "No. God, shit. You're mean! Jesus Christ." She tried to elbow him in the ribs but couldn't get the right angle, and any effort to push him back was completely lost. Her strength was draining quickly. "Riddick, STOP." She made her face as serious as she could, and he complied. "You are so mean," she said between gasps. He just grinned down at her.
Their faces grew serious simultaneously as they both realized just how close they were to each other. Jack swallowed, stomach flipping. He brushed a few stray hairs from her forehead and let his thumb trail lazily over her lower lip. Her eyes ran rapidly over his face, trying to read him, but he was staring so attentively at her lips she couldn't. Everything went into slow motion as he leaned down, eyes flitting up to hers for an instant before closing when their lips touched. She didn't respond at first, and he didn't move until she pressed up against him, letting her hand slide up his arm to encircle his neck. He didn't want to take it too far this time. She lifted her head to follow him as he retreated, but he gently pushed her back from him.
Her eyes locked with his, the lack of understanding why he pulled away so quickly shining through. He smiled softly, a finger lightly following an imaginary line down the side of her face.
"Jack—"
"Shh." She shushed him with a finger against his lips, the finger replaced quickly with her lips, pressing insistently against his. He drew a sharp breath, eyes slamming shut as sensation took over. The heated kiss slowed, ending with a quiet smack amid two competing sets of gasps.
"I don't want to push this," he whispered. She shook her head, staring up at him out from under heavy lids.
"Yes you do," she replied quietly, smiling at the confused look on his face. "Someone has to, and I can tell you right now, you don't want it to be me."
"Why's that?" She blushed and averted his eyes.
"Nothing would ever happen."
"Jack, if you're not comfortable—"
"I'm perfectly comfortable with this," she interjected adamantly. "I just…" She trailed off with a sigh.
"You just what?" he pressed.
"I don't know what I'm doing," she mumbled quietly. He smiled slightly and tucked her hair behind her ear. Evidently she'd decided to grow it out.
"You'll figure it out," he answered, watching her chew on her lip. "If you're not comfortable with something, don't." She nodded.
"But how do you tell the difference between not being comfortable with something and being nervous about it?" His eyebrow rose.
"You're gonna have to figure that one out," he said, pulling her to her feet with him. "That I can't tell you." She sighed.
"If you're going to make me do all the work, nothing's gonna get done," she insisted.
"If you want it badly enough, it'll happen," he said, kissing her forehead and leaving her to stare at the empty dojo.