jessica cortez oneshots

mugs [ ❦ ]

Two hours, three quarters of a pack of Lozenges and a 39°C temperature reading into the morning, you're really wishing that you'd heeded Mumford's advice to stay home for the day; but with only a half day of filling out after-action reports and supervising some academy drills ahead of you, you've deigned that you'll stick it out - if for the paycheck and the preservation of your dignity, alone.

And maybe for the chance to see Jess somewhere outside of your apartments, too.

After your badly-masked wracking coughs distract a recruit so badly that he loses his grip and falls from an overhead traverse, Rocker relegates you to the kitchen on the other side of HQ on threat of death - or, worse, getting dragged bodily to Dr Cheryl's office and forcibly being made take the day.

Stubbornness still willing you steadfastly forwards, though, you figure you'll use your enforced solitude as a chance to get a start on your steadily growing stack of AAR's - which is a great plan, until about a half hour or so later when the words on the pages before you start to swim and blur into one another, and nothing seems to help cool your heated face like the cold metal of the tabletop you're sat at.

Completely aware of how deranged you must appear, with your feverish face buried in your crossed arms as you lean on the table (but comforted by the fact you've done much worse here, for far littler of a payoff), you pay little mind when the door at the far end of the room squeaks open, signalling someone's entrance.

Rattles of cutlery drawers and the hissing of a kettle help you trace their movements around the kitchen as they work silently, making you think it's Rocker who's happy to let you stay half-asleep if it means he doesn't have to listen to your babbling excuse for conversation anymore - but close as you are, Rocker definitely wouldn't set what sounds like a mug and a paper bag down atop the spread of papers before you as quietly as possible with a gentle touch of the small of your back; much less, with a silent kiss to the top of your head before leaving with only the soft patter of high-heels across the dark floor to announce it.

A mug of hot lemon tea and a bag of cold medicine lay in front of you, the sight of which alone are enough to get you to perk up - but as you push yourself upright in a attempt to thank Jessica for as much, she's already departed in a breeze of jasmine perfume and sweet words unsaid.