Being The Third Wheel (It's Really Not That Bad)
Pairing: Jack/Liz
Spoilers: Takes place shortly after the season 6 finale. Some references to 'The Bubble' and 'Retreat to Move Forward'
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine. Everything belongs to Tina (as it should). Comments/feedback are always welcome!!
In the weeks after his divorce from Avery, Liz expected Jack to jump back into the New York social scene and hone in on the youngest, most nubile and gorgeous woman he could find. Instead, he spends an inordinate amount of time third-wheeling with Liz and Criss. Sometimes, he brings Liddy with him. But most of the time, it’s just the three of them spending evenings in her apartment drinking wine. Fortunately, it doesn’t look like Jack is trying to steal Criss away from her like he did with Floyd (sorry - the “Floydster”). But it’s still a little weird.
“I’m going to say something to him. Tomorrow.” Liz finally says one night when they are alone in bed together.
“Say something to whom? The cable guy? I told you he fixed the box this morning.”
Liz’s face scrunches up in annoyance. “No! Not the cable guy.” She lowers her voice and whispers, “Jack.”
“Why are you whispering? He’s not crashing here tonight, he has Liddy”
“See, that’s why I’m saying something. He crashes here, Criss. And we’re trying to make a baby. I can’t do stuff to you knowing that he’s right on top of me!” Realizing how that sounded she closes her eyes and corrects herself, “I meant upstairs. I can’t have sex with you - my boyfriend - when my boss and best friend is upstairs.”
“Is it because he’s like your dad?”
“What? No!” She always thought her relationship with Jack was strange, but adding a paternal aspect to it after everything they’ve been through - mixed signals, almost kisses, him seeing her in her bra and her lusting after the “bubble” version of him - was way too off-putting for her to even acknowledge. “He’s not like my dad, Criss. I just don’t like the idea that he could hear stuff…”
“…But you’re pretty quiet.”
“I meant you, actually.” She says, narrowing her eyes. “It’s just not cool.”
“Huh. Well, if you feel like you have say something….just so you know, Jack is fine with it.” Criss says casually and Liz stares at him in shock at how blasé he’s being about the whole weird dynamic between the three of them.
“He what now?”
“He created an excel spreadsheet to track your menstrual cycle. He sent it to me yesterday. Something about how I need to be efficient about impregnating you, since your window of opportunity for having kids naturally is rapidly closing.” Criss hands her his phone with the email and Liz gasps.
“That’s it!! This is inappropriate on so many levels. I’m shutting this down.”
“Fine by me.” Criss shrugs. “But, um, according to the chart we should get busy right now.”
“You’re not serious?”
“Jack’s chart says…” Liz smacks the phone out of his hand and straddles his waist.
“Fine. But no mention of the J-word.”
“Got it.”
“And you need to finish in 15 minutes because I don’t want to miss the Real Housewives finale.” Criss is able to acquiesce to both her demands. It’s why she loves him.
---
The next day, Liz barges into Jack’s office with the intention putting an end to his meddling in her affairs. For real this time.
“You’re tracking my menstrual cycle??” Jack looks up from his computer, completely unfazed by Liz’s accusation.
“I can assure you, Lemon, I am not doing so for prurient reasons. I’m just picking up the slack because I know neither of you would do it.”
“And you know this because….”
“You’re too sexually repressed to even say the word ovulate and Criss is too lazy to know how to learn Excel. You should be thanking me.” He is so smug about his justification that it takes all of her strength to not slap him. “In fact, when was the last time you had your period?”
“I am NOT answering that question.” When he looks at her expectantly she mumbles, “I dunno. I actually haven’t had it in a while…6 weeks, maybe?” She cringes, because she realizes she just proved Jack right and she probably should send him some sort of “thank you” fruit basket.
Jack gives her his best triumphant smile and she sees his hand slowly slide open a drawer from under his desk. “You will be needing this then.”
She apprehensively walks up to his desk and takes the small rectangular box he offers her. “A home pregnancy test?” She asks, her eyebrows raised. “Were you just waiting for the day I came bursting into your office in a panic because my period was late?”
“Perhaps.” He says with a sly smile and adds, “Regardless, I believe it’s best to be prepared. So…” He eyes suggestively divert to his bathroom, and Liz laughs nervously when she realizes he wants her to take the test now. In his office bathroom.
“No. No, no, no, no. I’ll pee on a stick in my own bathroom, thank you very much.”
“There’s no need to be your normal puritanical self about this, Liz. If I’ve heard how the baby was conceived, I can certainly hear you peeing so you can determine if said baby exists.” Jack gently takes hold of her arm and forcefully guides her to his bathroom despite her verbal protestations.
He waits for a few moments, and grows impatient when he doesn’t hear any activity inside. “For the love of God, Lemon. What is taking so long?”
“Well, first it was hard for me to find a position for me to pee on this stick without getting anything on your floor,” he cringes at the visual, but doesn’t comment on it. “And now nothing is coming out. You make my bladder nervous.”
He rolls his eyes and says, “What if I played some classical music? Would that help?”
“No.” She says with an incredulous snort.
“I don’t understand the dismissive tone, Elizabeth. Studies show that classical music has a distinct ability to help one relax in a myriad of stressful situations.”
“You can get a study to prove anything, Jack. Also, I don’t think whatever study you read had ‘peeing in front of your boss’ in mind as an example of a ‘stressful situation.’”
They continue to bicker through the door about peeing, the accuracy of scientific studies and classical music and, oddly enough, the heated exchange has allowed Liz to finally relax. “Shut up, you jag! I’m doing it.” She yells through the door.
After she washes her hands and flushes the toilet, Liz stares at the stick impatiently waiting for the results to appear and, for a moment, is able to forget that Jack is still right outside the door.
“Well?” He asks after knocking the door insistently.
“I’m trying to figure out what the window thingy says. I see one line, but I’m not sure…” Unable to take the suspense any longer, Jack barges into the bathroom and grabs the stick out of Liz’s hands.
“Ew gross, Jack. I peed on that thing.”
“I’ve fondled Greta Van Susteren’s breasts. This is hardly the most grotesque thing I’ve touched.” Liz is about to snatch the stick from his hands, but she sees the single blue line has become much clearer.
“One line. What does that mean, Lemon?”
Her face falls and she frowns in disappointment after she reads the box’s instructions. “It means I’m not pregnant.”
“Are you sure? Maybe we should try another test. This one is probably defective.” He dismissively tosses the stick into the garbage can and turns around in order to fetch another test, but Liz’s hand on his arm stops him.
“No, my junk it’s what’s defective. I’m a 41-year old woman who has done a pretty crappy job of taking care of my body. The odds are not in my favor.” Her voice hitches for a moment, and Jack can tell she is on the brink of tears.
“Lemon…” He isn’t sure what to do. He knows how to fix problems, but being comforting and empathetic is not his strong suit. Liz decides what to do for him when she clutches the lapels of his jacket and starts to cry against his chest. Jack has no choice but to wrap his arms around her and let her cry. “It’ll be okay. You just started trying. If people gave up on getting things accomplished after one failed attempt we wouldn’t have been able to reduce our dependency on foreign oil, bring democracy to the Middle East…”
“Jack, those are all horrible examples!”
“Well, yes, I suppose examples don’t inspire confidence.” He shakes his head, and decides on a new tactic, so he bends down, and plants a gentle, but firm kiss on her lips. Liz, for her part, is too shocked to respond. The kiss barely lasts for a second, and before Liz can even wrap her head around that Jack just voluntarily kissed her, he pulls away.
“Why…what…how…I don’t understand.” Is all she can manage to say, and Jack just shrugs in response.
“I felt like you needed to be kissed, so I kissed you. No need to read anything into it, Lemon.”
“Because your lips have healing powers?” She asks sarcastically.
“Some women have claimed they do.” Liz’s glares in response and brushes past him.
“I have a boyfriend. Don’t do that again.” She says in a huff while she grabs her purse. Her face has turned a deep shade of red, and Jack smirks when he notices how flustered she is.
“Noted.”
“I’m serious, Jack. And stop monitoring when I’m going to get my period.” She backs away from him nervously, while Jack simply stares at her with the most serene and calm expression on his face.
“Again, noted.” She nods her head, figuring that this little incident is an aberration and something they can quickly get past, but that thought is short lived when Jack utters one more sentence before she exists his office. “But, ah, Liz. I’ll have you know, that Donaghy men are known for their supreme sperm motility. Given that you are currently in your most fertile time of your cycle, I’d be happy to…”
“Please don’t finish that sentence!” She gasps, her eyes wide with panic.
“Very well. The offer remains on the table, should you change your mind.”
“Mind won’t be changed, Jack. Never. Ever.”
Much like six years beforehand, when she declared that she didn’t “like him anymore,” Jack cups his mouth and smugly whispers, “I don’t believe you.”
He was right about his declaration then and he’s pretty sure he’s right now.
Spoilers: Takes place shortly after the season 6 finale. Some references to 'The Bubble' and 'Retreat to Move Forward'
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine. Everything belongs to Tina (as it should). Comments/feedback are always welcome!!
In the weeks after his divorce from Avery, Liz expected Jack to jump back into the New York social scene and hone in on the youngest, most nubile and gorgeous woman he could find. Instead, he spends an inordinate amount of time third-wheeling with Liz and Criss. Sometimes, he brings Liddy with him. But most of the time, it’s just the three of them spending evenings in her apartment drinking wine. Fortunately, it doesn’t look like Jack is trying to steal Criss away from her like he did with Floyd (sorry - the “Floydster”). But it’s still a little weird.
“I’m going to say something to him. Tomorrow.” Liz finally says one night when they are alone in bed together.
“Say something to whom? The cable guy? I told you he fixed the box this morning.”
Liz’s face scrunches up in annoyance. “No! Not the cable guy.” She lowers her voice and whispers, “Jack.”
“Why are you whispering? He’s not crashing here tonight, he has Liddy”
“See, that’s why I’m saying something. He crashes here, Criss. And we’re trying to make a baby. I can’t do stuff to you knowing that he’s right on top of me!” Realizing how that sounded she closes her eyes and corrects herself, “I meant upstairs. I can’t have sex with you - my boyfriend - when my boss and best friend is upstairs.”
“Is it because he’s like your dad?”
“What? No!” She always thought her relationship with Jack was strange, but adding a paternal aspect to it after everything they’ve been through - mixed signals, almost kisses, him seeing her in her bra and her lusting after the “bubble” version of him - was way too off-putting for her to even acknowledge. “He’s not like my dad, Criss. I just don’t like the idea that he could hear stuff…”
“…But you’re pretty quiet.”
“I meant you, actually.” She says, narrowing her eyes. “It’s just not cool.”
“Huh. Well, if you feel like you have say something….just so you know, Jack is fine with it.” Criss says casually and Liz stares at him in shock at how blasé he’s being about the whole weird dynamic between the three of them.
“He what now?”
“He created an excel spreadsheet to track your menstrual cycle. He sent it to me yesterday. Something about how I need to be efficient about impregnating you, since your window of opportunity for having kids naturally is rapidly closing.” Criss hands her his phone with the email and Liz gasps.
“That’s it!! This is inappropriate on so many levels. I’m shutting this down.”
“Fine by me.” Criss shrugs. “But, um, according to the chart we should get busy right now.”
“You’re not serious?”
“Jack’s chart says…” Liz smacks the phone out of his hand and straddles his waist.
“Fine. But no mention of the J-word.”
“Got it.”
“And you need to finish in 15 minutes because I don’t want to miss the Real Housewives finale.” Criss is able to acquiesce to both her demands. It’s why she loves him.
---
The next day, Liz barges into Jack’s office with the intention putting an end to his meddling in her affairs. For real this time.
“You’re tracking my menstrual cycle??” Jack looks up from his computer, completely unfazed by Liz’s accusation.
“I can assure you, Lemon, I am not doing so for prurient reasons. I’m just picking up the slack because I know neither of you would do it.”
“And you know this because….”
“You’re too sexually repressed to even say the word ovulate and Criss is too lazy to know how to learn Excel. You should be thanking me.” He is so smug about his justification that it takes all of her strength to not slap him. “In fact, when was the last time you had your period?”
“I am NOT answering that question.” When he looks at her expectantly she mumbles, “I dunno. I actually haven’t had it in a while…6 weeks, maybe?” She cringes, because she realizes she just proved Jack right and she probably should send him some sort of “thank you” fruit basket.
Jack gives her his best triumphant smile and she sees his hand slowly slide open a drawer from under his desk. “You will be needing this then.”
She apprehensively walks up to his desk and takes the small rectangular box he offers her. “A home pregnancy test?” She asks, her eyebrows raised. “Were you just waiting for the day I came bursting into your office in a panic because my period was late?”
“Perhaps.” He says with a sly smile and adds, “Regardless, I believe it’s best to be prepared. So…” He eyes suggestively divert to his bathroom, and Liz laughs nervously when she realizes he wants her to take the test now. In his office bathroom.
“No. No, no, no, no. I’ll pee on a stick in my own bathroom, thank you very much.”
“There’s no need to be your normal puritanical self about this, Liz. If I’ve heard how the baby was conceived, I can certainly hear you peeing so you can determine if said baby exists.” Jack gently takes hold of her arm and forcefully guides her to his bathroom despite her verbal protestations.
He waits for a few moments, and grows impatient when he doesn’t hear any activity inside. “For the love of God, Lemon. What is taking so long?”
“Well, first it was hard for me to find a position for me to pee on this stick without getting anything on your floor,” he cringes at the visual, but doesn’t comment on it. “And now nothing is coming out. You make my bladder nervous.”
He rolls his eyes and says, “What if I played some classical music? Would that help?”
“No.” She says with an incredulous snort.
“I don’t understand the dismissive tone, Elizabeth. Studies show that classical music has a distinct ability to help one relax in a myriad of stressful situations.”
“You can get a study to prove anything, Jack. Also, I don’t think whatever study you read had ‘peeing in front of your boss’ in mind as an example of a ‘stressful situation.’”
They continue to bicker through the door about peeing, the accuracy of scientific studies and classical music and, oddly enough, the heated exchange has allowed Liz to finally relax. “Shut up, you jag! I’m doing it.” She yells through the door.
After she washes her hands and flushes the toilet, Liz stares at the stick impatiently waiting for the results to appear and, for a moment, is able to forget that Jack is still right outside the door.
“Well?” He asks after knocking the door insistently.
“I’m trying to figure out what the window thingy says. I see one line, but I’m not sure…” Unable to take the suspense any longer, Jack barges into the bathroom and grabs the stick out of Liz’s hands.
“Ew gross, Jack. I peed on that thing.”
“I’ve fondled Greta Van Susteren’s breasts. This is hardly the most grotesque thing I’ve touched.” Liz is about to snatch the stick from his hands, but she sees the single blue line has become much clearer.
“One line. What does that mean, Lemon?”
Her face falls and she frowns in disappointment after she reads the box’s instructions. “It means I’m not pregnant.”
“Are you sure? Maybe we should try another test. This one is probably defective.” He dismissively tosses the stick into the garbage can and turns around in order to fetch another test, but Liz’s hand on his arm stops him.
“No, my junk it’s what’s defective. I’m a 41-year old woman who has done a pretty crappy job of taking care of my body. The odds are not in my favor.” Her voice hitches for a moment, and Jack can tell she is on the brink of tears.
“Lemon…” He isn’t sure what to do. He knows how to fix problems, but being comforting and empathetic is not his strong suit. Liz decides what to do for him when she clutches the lapels of his jacket and starts to cry against his chest. Jack has no choice but to wrap his arms around her and let her cry. “It’ll be okay. You just started trying. If people gave up on getting things accomplished after one failed attempt we wouldn’t have been able to reduce our dependency on foreign oil, bring democracy to the Middle East…”
“Jack, those are all horrible examples!”
“Well, yes, I suppose examples don’t inspire confidence.” He shakes his head, and decides on a new tactic, so he bends down, and plants a gentle, but firm kiss on her lips. Liz, for her part, is too shocked to respond. The kiss barely lasts for a second, and before Liz can even wrap her head around that Jack just voluntarily kissed her, he pulls away.
“Why…what…how…I don’t understand.” Is all she can manage to say, and Jack just shrugs in response.
“I felt like you needed to be kissed, so I kissed you. No need to read anything into it, Lemon.”
“Because your lips have healing powers?” She asks sarcastically.
“Some women have claimed they do.” Liz’s glares in response and brushes past him.
“I have a boyfriend. Don’t do that again.” She says in a huff while she grabs her purse. Her face has turned a deep shade of red, and Jack smirks when he notices how flustered she is.
“Noted.”
“I’m serious, Jack. And stop monitoring when I’m going to get my period.” She backs away from him nervously, while Jack simply stares at her with the most serene and calm expression on his face.
“Again, noted.” She nods her head, figuring that this little incident is an aberration and something they can quickly get past, but that thought is short lived when Jack utters one more sentence before she exists his office. “But, ah, Liz. I’ll have you know, that Donaghy men are known for their supreme sperm motility. Given that you are currently in your most fertile time of your cycle, I’d be happy to…”
“Please don’t finish that sentence!” She gasps, her eyes wide with panic.
“Very well. The offer remains on the table, should you change your mind.”
“Mind won’t be changed, Jack. Never. Ever.”
Much like six years beforehand, when she declared that she didn’t “like him anymore,” Jack cups his mouth and smugly whispers, “I don’t believe you.”
He was right about his declaration then and he’s pretty sure he’s right now.