jim street oneshots

solace [ ❦ ]

The metal of the locker door is cool against your back, contrasting sharply with the white-hot heat spreading through the left side of your jaw. Droplets of icy water drip down from the water bottle held tightly in your hand as you press it against your face in the hopes of some relief, with little improvement.

"How you holding up?"

Cracking an eye open, you see Jim sticking his head in the door with a concerned look on his face.

"M'okay." Your voice is scratchy and not as strong-sounding as you would've hoped. "Everything under control out there?"

"Just about." He swings the door shut behind him as he walks in, the rubber soles of his boots squeaking against the linoleum with each step. Stripping himself of his vest and tac belt, he throws them both into a pile along with yours before leaning against the locker and taking the bottle from your hand.

He wipes the remaining condensation off your skin with a careful hand before holding the metal bottle back against you. "Dude got you pretty good, didn't he?"

You hum under your breath, turning to face him with your shoulder lent against the lockers. Not quite wanting to meet his eyes just yet, you hook your thumb into the loop of his trousers and tug him in closer to you. Though you aren't looking at him, there's no missing the grin that spreads across his face.

"Guess that pretty face of yours wasn't the only thing that got hurt, hm?"

A soft shove to his hip sends him stumbling back a few steps, his chuckle bouncing off the walls like an echo in the quiet. You walk to the sinks, snagging a towel off the counter and dabbing at the trickles of water beginning to fall down your neck. With your eyes fixed firmly on the white enamel of the basin, you don't see him walk up behind you - but you do feel his arm loop around your waist, and pull you back into him.

With a sigh, you toss the towel into the sink and look at him through the mirror. Equal measures concern and humor are visible on his face when he looks at you, his chin tucked into your neck.

"You sure you're okay?"

In the quietness, your sniffle sounds a lot unsteadier than you'd like. You expect him to move, to let go of you, to say something, anything, but all Street does is hold you tighter.

Your breathing grows uneven as he wraps his other arm around you, turning you around till you're facing him. He doesn't make you look at him, simply letting you press your face into the crook of his neck while he rubs a soothing hand up and down your back as sobs wrack your body.

Time ticks by slowly. Though it's really only a matter of minutes, it feels like hours before your breathing evens out. Jim doesn't move, still holding you close to him while he presses kisses to the crown of your head. When you do pull back to wipe your eyes, he's right there to brush the stray tears off your cheeks.

"It's not just the punch, is it?" You do love Jim, you really do, but sometimes you wish he wasn't so good at reading you. Anyone else would think that your bruised ego had you a little upset, but of course he would know that a prisoner transport gone awry wouldn't be nearly enough to have you this upset. "Something else going on?"

He doesn't need your half-hearted nod to know it to be true. Your hands sit at his waist, fistfulls of his shirt balled up in your fingers. Looking up at him with red-ringed eyes, you lean your face into his palm and try to calm your racing thoughts.

You're pulling on Street's heartstrings without even saying a word. Your stuttered breaths and teary eyes are proof that his suspicions over the last few days had been warranted, and that that left-hook from the mobster you and Deacon had been transferring into holding was just the cherry on top of a bigger situation.

"Let's go home, baby." He squeezes your hip, letting you catch your breath as he steps back. "That sound good?"

"Yeah." Your voice is raspy, your jaw beginning the ache from the punch already. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Okay." He smiles, taking your hand in his. He knew that there was only so much he could do, only so much he could say, but he figured that even if he couldn't lessen the impact on you, he sure as hell could make sure you didn't suffer the fallout alone.