Something Just Like This (Jack MorrisonxReader)

Chapter 1

As Jack Morrison paces around his office dictating his report for the UN council, (Y/N) tries desperately to focus on his words instead of his voice. She'd liked him for a while now, probably since her first day of work, which was almost a year ago. Honestly, who wouldn't? The Strike Commander makes for an impressive, larger-than-life figure. He's kind, brave, and charismatic, all good qualities in a leader.

And then there's the rest of him. Strong build, slightly tousled blond hair, brilliant blue eyes, and a smile that makes (Y/N)'s heart melt every time gets to she sees it. And then there's— "(Y/N)? Are you listening?"

"Yes, sir! You were talking about the new protocols you're proposing to the council to help prevent a repetition of the Belgium mission." The commander stops pacing, and turns to face her, grinning. "Ok, good. Just wanted to check since you looked... distracted. Let me see what you've got so far."

He crosses the room to stand behind her chair, leaning slightly over her back to read the lines of text screen. (Y/N) tries her best not to move, knowing that, if she shifts just slightly in one direction, she'll bump into him. After a few unnaturally long seconds, he lets out a grunt of approval. "This all looks good. Nice work, (Y/N)."

"Thank you, sir." He walks back to his chair and sits down, putting his feet up on the desk and leaning back. "You should be about to take your lunch break, right?"

Over the past few weeks, those words, or something similar, have slowly become their signal that the commander needs to take a break of his own. She quickly responds, "Now that you mention it, sir, it is getting very close to lunchtime. Do you want me to bring you anything?"

"Coffee, please. And maybe a sandwich."

"Any preference on the sandwich?"

"You know what I like. Surprise me." That means a BLT with mayo, hold the mustard. "Got it, sir. I'll be back in an hour."

He stretches, closing his eyes. "Maybe you can take a little longer, if you want." (Y/N) can't help but smile. "Two hours, then?"

He nods without opening his eyes. She opens the door and closes it quietly behind her. He's sound asleep when she gets back, but she was expecting that. (Y/N) places his coffee, which she put in a to-go cup with a stopper, and his sandwich, neatly wrapped in a white napkin, on his desk, and returns to her seat, setting a timer for 30 minutes. After that half an hour passes, she gets up and walks over to his desk, hesitantly reaching out to tap his shoulder. "Sir?"

At (Y/N)'s touch and the sound of her voice, the commander starts slightly. He reluctantly opens his eyes and swings his legs off the table. He looks at the coffee and wrapped sandwich, then at (Y/N), and a tired smile crosses his face. He says almost to himself. "At least it's not a bad way to wake up." He then directly addresses her. "Thank you for waking me up. Oh, and lunch too. I'll eat this quickly, and then we can get back to work." Almost 10 minutes later, he's back to pacing and dictating his message to the UN Council.

When (Y/N) comes in a few weeks later, the commander is at his desk reading a holopad. He looks up and smiles at her. "Good morning, (Y/N)."

"Good morning, commander. New mission report?" He nods, the smile on his face widening. "Jesse just turned this in. Thought I could use a good start to the morning."

Jesse McCree's mission reports are always good for a laugh. He's a good storyteller, with a tendency to hilariously exaggerate his own accomplishments. Obviously, his mission reports are always accompanied by a second, more succinct report. (Y/N) can't keep the excitement out of her voice as she attempts to nonchalantly ask, "What's the classification level of the mission?"