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Jamie Ross/"What's Love Got to Do With It?"

Title: What's Love Got to Do With It?
Fandom:Law & Order
Characters: Jamie Ross, Jack McCoy
Prompt: Table 3, 043.Sex
Word Count:752
Rating: PG-13 for language, and mentions of sex.
Summary: Jamie & McCoy define their relationship...sort of.
Author's notes:please, please if you read this, comment! I appreciate feedback greatly! Thanks! Also while Jamie/Jack isn't technically canon, I don't think I'm the only one who believes that there was something going on there...and if you don't think so, you don't have to read this or agree with it, but I'm writing it as I see it.



Jamie Ross leaned back on the pillow, bringing the sheet up to cover herself. She turned on her side, and reached a hand out to the man lying beside her. He, too, was on his side, facing her, but not really looking at her. She grazed his arm with her hand.

Jack McCoy flinched.

“I’m not going to bite…” She refrained from saying ‘Unless you want me to’ when she saw the look on his face. “What?”

He shook his head and reached for the glass of scotch on the nightstand. She looked past him, out the window. It was already dark. They’d left the courthouse early for once…and gone back to his place. She sighed, sitting up, glancing back down at him. He replaced his drink on the stand and then buried his face in the pillow. It was only seven o’clock.

“I could make dinner,” she said, toying with the edge of the sheet that covered him.

He turned suddenly, looking up at her. “Jamie, don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t do this…don’t…make something more out of this than it actually is.”

They hadn’t been over what “this” was yet… It was still early enough in their…relationship, if it could be called that, that “this” hadn’t yet been discussed. He’d implied it, and she’d ignored his implications, or didn’t get the hints. Or didn’t want to get the hints.

She looked at him, slightly hurt and a little confused. “What exactly is this, then?”
“Sex.”
She blinked. “That’s all…”
He sighed, still laying down, but looking up at her. “I never said it was anything else…or implied it was anything else…”

She looked away, not speaking. Of course he hadn’t. He hadn’t said he wanted her as his girlfriend. Because of their jobs, the times they’d gotten together had been clandestine. He had never whispered ‘sweet nothings’ or given hints at a future. There had been sideways glances at the office, a rub of the shoulder or pat on the back…which she, of course, had read far too much into.

“You should have said something in the first place, the first time,” she said.
“I didn’t think I had to.”
“Of course you didn’t, you’re a man.”
“That’s a cop-out argument if I ever heard one.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment. Finally, she spoke. “Why not this? Why not us?”

He rubbed his eyes. He did not want to be having this conversation with her.
“Jamie…we don’t need to make things complicated…”
“Complicated?! This—what we’re doing—isn’t complicated?” She was incredulous. “Talk about your cop-out answers. We’ve already done complicated, Jack.”
“You know what I meant…”
“I know that you’re a fucking hypocrite.”

He’d been called much worse, and the comment hardly bothered him. “Jamie…maybe we should stop this right now.”

He’d seen the way she’d been hurt by the divorce…She was good at keeping most things inside, but he could tell by the distant looks when they were supposed to be working, or the arguments on the phone with Neil Gorton. He’d wanted to help, to be there as a friend. Perhaps this was too much.

She got out of the bed, taking the sheet with her. “Fine, Jack…fine…” She was fuming as she threw on her clothes. He didn’t bother to speak as she changed, and when she left the apartment, he merely rolled over on his side and reached for the scotch again.


A week later, court let out and both prosecutors were slammed with reporters as they left the court house.

“Mr. McCoy, did you really think you’d be able to convict Martin DeSilva after the testimony from his psychiatrist?”

“Ms. Ross, what do you have to say about the judge’s throwing out the murder weapon?”

They’d barely spoken all week, unless it was related to the trial that had just finished with a disappointing bang, but Jack put his hand on Jamie’s back and shuttled her into the waiting car, past the microphones and news cameras.

“What’s next, a call from the mayor denouncing us in a public proclamation?” Jamie muttered.
“Worse, a Bar Association meeting,” Jack smirked, unconsciously rubbing Jamie’s shoulder.
“If I have to face Adam Schiff today, I might just vomit on his shoes,” she said, leaning back into his touch.

Jack laughed, pulling out his flask and taking a drink. “We don’t have to go back to the courthouse.”

She raised her brows at him.
He raised his back, leaning in a little, as he murmured, “My place or yours?”

Comments

makeitstopjamie
Nov. 13th, 2006 11:23 am (UTC)
Nice way to wake up in the morning:)