jim street oneshots

heart eyes [ ❥ ]

The plaza is bustling with life in the rising afternoon sun. vendors churning out platefuls of mouth-watering food round the clock fill the square, their brightly-coloured vans and carts blocking out some of the LA sun and providing you with a little respite.

Leaning back in the cheap picnic chair, you fan yourself with a plastic menu. All it succeeds in doing is catching the edge of your sunglasses and send them skeeting down the bridge of your flushed nose, falling to the ground with a clatter.

Jim shoots you a look from across the table, one that you don't have to look up to know he's wearing.

"Shut up", you grumble irately. bending down, you fish the glasses off the hot tarmac. After fumbling the bright red frame in your hands for a moment, you groan internally when you see a missing lens.

All he does is grin at you, raising his eyebrows as he sets down his burger. "I didn't say a fing."

Now it's your turn to grin. "Fing?"

He kicks lamely at you under the table, catching your shin with the toe of his boot. Though it's a weak attempt with no real power nor malice behind it, it's enough to knock over your backpack on the ground next to you - the one with the microcamera nestling in the zipper, carefully pointed towards the group of figures at the next table over.

While you're chastising street under your breath as you turn the bag upright again, Hondo's low voice fills your ears. "Remember you two, we're only operating this close to headquarters because of how small a window we have. The risk of exposure is especially high - be smart."

"Street keeps talking into the comms with his mouth full, and the cartel won't be the ones he's got to worry about." Luca's irate tone of voice crackles over your earpiece next, and you smile at the mental image of him sitting in the surveillance van like a grumpy child.

"I'll back you on that move, man." Your voice is low when you speak, the corners of your mouth lifting upwards in a smile as you mess with the broken glasses. Clearing his throat, Street takes a quick glance at your surroundings before leaning across the table to you.

"Aw, honey, let me help", he croons. With a smile as sickeningly sweet as his voice, he takes the glasses from you and snags the loose lens from off the ground. He pops the heart-shaped lens back into the frame and, before you can stop him, slides the cherry-red glasses back onto your face. You frown, and he makes to swipe at your cheek with his thumb affectionately.

Deacon, from where he's sat across the courtyard from you, can see what looks like a sweet domestic spat unfolding between the two of you. Except when he hears you threaten to bite your companion, he knows there's no affection hidden there. "Kids, play nice."

Glare rendered useless by the shaded lenses, you settle back into your chair and Street does the same - but looking significantly more satisfied with himself. The hot plastic sticks uncomfortably to your legs. Street looks over at you as you shuffle in your seat, squirming as you try and alleviate some of the stinging sensation.

"Wow - I know I'm not the best company, but I hardly thought you'd be getting restless already." Jim teases. but he nudges your knee under the table with his own, and the hand that comes to rest gently on your bare knee gives you the idea that he's not all poking fun at you.

"You're not the only one, then." Hondo's voice draws you from your moment of peace. And even if it didn't, there's no way you'd miss the crowd of black suits and polished shoes beginning to get up and drift away from the plaza.

Street locks eyes with you as the team begin to converse over the radio. Minds already running a mile a minute, you know you're both on the same train of thought when you reach for your bag as he begins to stand.

"You ready to get out of here?" Your tone is light, conversational, even, but Street can see the smile edging its way onto your face.

He grins, that mischievous glint in his eye making them shine even brighter in the sun. He leans into you, his hand seeking out yours to lace your fingers with his as he starts to pull you along. "Thought you'd never ask, baby."