Fic, Spending Spree, Becker/Jess, 15
Nov. 10th, 2014 10:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fredbassettTitle : Spending Spree
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Becker/Jess
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Word Count : 3,044
Summary : Becker makes a promise and Jess holds him to it.
A/N : Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
clea2011’s birthday. I hope you have a lovely day!
“Jess, we really need that swing bridge closed!” Becker fought to keep his voice under control as he tore along the road to the river in his trick, siren blaring and lights flashing.
“I’m a bit too far away to give it a push!” Jess retorted acerbically. “It’s being done, Becker. At the worst you’ll have to jump a couple of feet at your end. The barriers are being raised now. You’ll have a clear run at it.”
“I am not a fucking stunt driver!”
“Language!” Jess admonished. “I’ve told you loads of times, calls may be recorded for quality or training purposes.”
“Jess!”
“Yes, Becker?”
“Make sure that bridge is closed in time and I promise to go shopping with you on Saturday!”
Despite the number of claims for vehicle damage he had to submit, Becker didn’t actually consider himself a reckless driver and he had absolutely no desire to see if he could make the truck jump a gap between the road and the swing bridge. From the sound of the radio traffic coming out of the second vehicle in their convoy, Matt felt the same.
“That’ll be lovely,” Jess said sweetly. “Just trust me and keep driving, Becker. It’ll all be fine.”
The thing was, even though Becker was rapidly approaching a gap that currently looked as wide as the Grand Canyon and that was not narrowing anywhere near as fast as he would have liked, he did trust Jess. Despite her youth, elfin looks, and liking for short skirts and bright colours, their field coordinator was good at her job, damned good. When the call had come in about a pack of something that looked like over-sized wolves terrorising a small village, they’d been an hour’s drive away and time was very definitely of the essence as the local police certainly weren’t equipped to deal with the problem.
Everyone had been told to stay at home, keep their animals inside and wait for the ARC team to arrive. But they had twenty young children trapped in a school and not everyone was sensible enough to heed the warnings, so Becker and the team needed to get there as quickly a possible. The only problem was that the fastest route to the trouble spot had a river in the way, and a swing bridge that had been kept open for maintenance purposes.
Jess had promptly made contact with the company working on the bridge who’d assured her they could get it closed in time for Becker’s arrival. The works foreman was in constant contact with her and she appeared confident in his ability to deliver his promise, but she wasn’t the one hurtling down the approach road at 67mph.
In the next 30 seconds, Becker was going to be committed to making the jump, whether he wanted to or not. If he braked now, Matt’s truck would ram right up his arse, which wouldn’t be conducive to good working relationships or to the ARC’s policy of only insuring their vehicles third party (because anything else was just too fucking expensive, according to Lester).
If it hadn’t been for the need to see where he was going, he’d just close his eyes and hope for the best, which appeared to be the course of action Connor had decided on, and Becker couldn’t blame him.
“My life in your hands, Jess,” Becker muttered. “You better be right!”
“Of course I’m right,” she said in his ear. “You know how much I like taking you shopping. And by the way, you’ve got to do it with good grace…”
Becker groaned and kept his foot on the accelerator.
The truck hurtled down the slight hill to the bridge, which was now within a couple of feet of joining up with the main road surface, but there was still a potentially tyre-wrecking gap between the two sections of tarmac. Hanging onto the thought that their field coordinator was not usually wrong, Becker kept accelerating….
****
“There, I told you it’d be all right,” Jess said brightly, as Becker and the rest of the team trailed back into the Hub, tired, dirty and heartily sick of hauling several large, smelly and probably flea-ridden dire wolves back through the anomaly.
They’d managed to bring all of them down with the EMDs, so everyone was in Abby’s good books for once, but it had been a long day of hunting the creatures and making sure Mrs Wellinghall’s large and distinctly obstreperous tabby cat didn’t end up as wolf kibble. He’d have been quite happy to leave the bloody thing to its own devices, but if they’d done that, they’d have had an even more obstreperous octogenarian to deal with, and on balance, Matt had quite reasonably ruled that the cat was the lesser of two evils, so they’d had to find it as well. The damned cat had caused more aggro than all of the wolves put together.
“Yes, you did,” he admitted, knowing that resistance was futile. He took a large bar of chocolate out of his jacket pocket, along with a jar of homemade strawberry jam, courtesy of the chairman of the local Women’s Institute. They’d come away with enough jam, chutney and cakes to sink a battleship, but had still needed to make a chocolate stop on the way back. “You’re a genius.”
She beamed at him. “Report for shopping duty tomorrow at 9.30 sharp.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Becker said. He was an officer and a gentleman. He could cope with a shopping trip.
****
By 10.30, Becker had realised that this was going to be no ordinary shopping trip.
He’d presented himself at Jess’ flat as ordered. She’d equally promptly hauled him off to the nearest tube station and had insisted on heading straight to Regent Street where she had an appointment for a bra fitting at Rigby and Peller.
Even with the full weight of his Special Forces training to back him up, Becker nearly quailed at the idea of walking into a ladies’ lingerie shop, even if it was somewhat more discreet than Ann Summers. Slinking in behind Jess and hoping to hide somewhere was doomed to immediate failure. Jess was whisked off to a fitting room and Becker gratefully accepted a cup of coffee from a rather scary-looking assistant with more front than Sainsburys who looked like she ate army captains for breakfast and picked the bits out of her teeth with an elegantly-filed blood-red fingernail.
The coffee was good and he promptly buried himself in the latest Andy McNab bollocks on his tablet. That lasted all of five minutes. He was then called in to adjudicate between two virtually identical bras both at eye-watering prices. He opted for the one with small, purple flowers, hoping he was saying the right thing. Jess dithered for another 20 minutes then decided to buy both, adding a third in a rather startling shade of lime green just for good measure. He admired that as well, hoping he sounded sufficiently enthusiastic.
“You’ve got him well-trained,” the scary woman remarked, smiling at Jess.
Jess beamed and patted his arm. “He has his moments,” she confided, leaving Becker wondering quite what that meant but not daring to ask. He knew when not to push his luck. His role today was to look decorative, make approving noises on cue and carry the bags.
From there, Jess dived straight into an equally expensive-looking shoe shop. The decision making in their was even harder, leaving Becker trying to make acceptable comments on a seemingly endless parade of footwear, all in bright colours, all leaving him wondering how the hell Jess could manage to put one foot in front of the other in any of them. After the first five minutes, Becker decided that even walking across the shop in some of them looked harder than running repeatedly up Pen y Fan in full kit on the hottest day of the year. He was just exceedingly grateful that Jess showed no signs of wanting to add spice to their sex life by getting him to dress in women’s clothing. Not for any amount of conveniently closing swing-bridges would he put something like that on his feet and attempt to walk anywhere. And wearing women’s stockings or any other items of clothing had very definitely never appealed to him.
“Becker, you’re miles away! What are you thinking about?” Jess was standing in front of him wearing a pair of crimson shoes with pointed toes and stiletto heels, her hands on her hips.
“I was trying to decide between those and the gold ones,” he said quickly, hoping against hope that a) he wasn’t blushing and b) she’d actually tried on the gold pair the assistant had fetched for her.
From the look on her face, Jess was still suspicious, but seemed somewhat mollified by the fact that he appeared to be taking the choice of shoe seriously. Plastering a smile on his face and making a bid for the ‘boyfriend of the year’ award, Becker solicitously asked which of the serried ranks of brightly-coloured shoes were the most comfortable. That evoked a withering look. Comfort was clearly not a high priority.
An hour later, after trying on what seemed like the entire stock, Jess decided on three purchases: a white pair with red polka dots and high, thin heels, a pair of bright purple ankle boots with something called kitten heels (he hadn’t dared ask why), and a pair of yellow, strappy sandals that almost looked like they might have been designed for comfort as well as looks.
Becker made admiring noises about all three, prompting the sale assistant to remark to Jess that she wished her boyfriend would put up with shoe shopping with such good grace. That earned Becker a beaming smile and, somewhat to his surprise, he found that he was starting to enjoy himself. Jess’ evident pleasure in shopping was actually starting to become rather infectious. She did a high-stress job, often working anti-social hours. The whole team depended on her and she carried a lot of responsibility on those slender shoulders. Sometimes people died, and Becker knew she took every death to heart, constantly revising their field protocols, striving every day to be faster, smarter and better prepared than the day before.
If shopping with Becker in tow made her happy, then that was fine by him.
Their next stop was a little boutique in Soho selling scarves of every conceivable colour and type. That was easy. Scarves were something that Becker felt capable of offering an opinion on. He picked one off the display in thin, floaty cotton, a riot of colours in floral shapes jumping out at him: red, purple, blue, pink and green. He draped it around Jess’ neck and said, “This one. My treat.”
Her eyes widened slightly in quickly-masked surprise. She twisted the scarf into an artful knot and admired her refection in the mirror. “It’s lovely,” she said happily. “Thank you!”
Another one, this time in soft wool, in a haze of rather more muted colours, took her fancy. It was wide enough to wear as a shawl and it looked good on her. Becker said so and yet another shop assistant looked surprised. Becker was starting to realise that boyfriends prepared to enter into the spirit of things on a shopping trip were a scarce commodity.
“Lunch?” he suggested, after two scarves had been added to the growing collection of bags he was carrying.
They found a nice-looking wine bar in a courtyard near Covent Garden and settled down, bags around their feet. Jess ordered a white wine and Becker went for a beer while they looked at the menu. The food was good, the service was friendly and Jess chattered away happily about where she wanted to go in the afternoon. It looked like the craft stalls in and around Covent Garden was next on the agenda, followed by a trip over to Knightsbridge to Harvey Nicholls.
Covent Garden was busy but by then, rather than being irritable with the crowds, Becker was thoroughly entranced by the sight of Jess so obviously enjoying herself. He helped her choose a pair of beautiful lace-wool wrist warmers, a purple notebook with an intricate peacock design on the front, two pairs of earrings and some scented candles for her flat. They mooched around the other stalls, bonding over a dislike of anything labelled ‘shabby chic’, which to Becker’s eyes just appeared to be another way to describe badly-painted furniture. Jess much preferred bold colours and shiny plastic when it came to that sort of accessory.
By the time they made their way out of the tube at Knightsbridge, Becker had realised that this was a very good dry-run for his Christmas shopping. He was getting plenty of hands-on experience of what Jess liked and disliked, and although he couldn’t buy her shoes and clothes, he could certainly handle scarves and jewellery.
“I can’t believe this is the first time you’ve ever set foot in here!” Jess exclaimed as they passed into the hallowed ground of her favourite department store.
“Guilty as charged, ma’am.”
She linked her arm with his and confided, “You’ll probably hate it, but they do nice afternoon teas.”
He couldn’t slip an arm around because both hands were fully occupied with carrier bags, but he did bend down and press a light kiss on her cheek. “It’s actually nowhere near as bad as I’d expected,” he said truthfully. “I like watching you enjoy yourself.”
She smiled up at him. “I think that’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me.”
“What, nicer that calling you a genius at regular intervals?”
“That’s work. This is shopping.”
“Dealing with dinosaurs can be less scary.”
“Wimp.”
The department store definitely wasn’t as much fun as the small stalls and shops in Covent Garden, but Becker felt that he ended up acquitting himself quite well, adjudicating with a degree of confidence between several dresses, one of which was distinctly unflattering. He hadn’t been sure quite how Jess would react to being told that something didn’t suit her but, to Becker’s surprise, his comments actually went down quite well and – it seemed – coincided with her inner doubts, so that was another hurdle safely jumped. At least he hadn’t had to tell her that her bum looked big in something. But then Becker couldn’t actually imagine Jess’ bum looking big in anything.
The coffee shop did indeed do excellent afternoon cream teas, and even after a large lunch, he was feeling distinctly peckish by then. It was no wonder that Jess managed to stay so trim even after shovelling away so much chocolate. Shopping was hard work.
Speaking of chocolate…
When Jess went off to the ladies, Becker quickly consulted the wisdom of Google on his tablet and found the address of an up-market chocolatier not very far away from them. When he suggested it, Jess’ eyes lit up again with surprise and delight, so that idea was definitely a hit.
Rococo was only a few minutes walk away and once inside, Jess was in her element. Her enthusiasm was infectious and, after ascertaining that they did gift boxes, Becker promptly gave Jess free rein to pick what she wanted. His treat again.
She looked up at him sternly. “Becker, you’ve already bought me a present today!”
“I like buying you presents! It’s just that I’ve never really known what to buy you before.”
It was nothing but the truth. Shopping had always been a bit of a mystery to Becker. He stocked up the freezer and the fridge every week or so, bought clothes when he needed them and added the occasional novel to his Kindle app or bought a history book if he saw something that interested him on Amazon. It didn’t even make a dent in the money the Government paid him for chasing dinosaurs. At this rate, he’d probably be able to buy his own tank in a few years!
That earned him another kiss. Jess then threw herself into the serious business of buying chocolate. A wide variety of organic chocolate bars – none of them orange-flavoured – made their way into the box, accompanied by thin chocolates, fat chocolates and even chocolates shaped like sardines. In fact there was the most bewildering array of chocolates that Becker had ever seen in his life.
Christmas shopping was going to be an awful lot easier that Becker had ever imagined.
By the time they staggered back to Jess’ flat, his arms were aching under the weight of the bags, he felt like he’d gone three rounds with a G. rex and a dire wolf tag-teaming him, and his feet hurt more than they’d done since his first day of basic training. But Jess, in spite of her unsuitable heels, was still skipping along happily like a hyperactive pixie.
Once they got inside, he showed commendable restraint and didn’t just dump the whole lot on the floor and dash to the fridge for a cold beer. Instead, he laid the bags down with due reverence on the table and raised one eyebrow. “Did I do all right?”
She jumped up and threw her arms around his neck. “You did better than all right, you did brilliantly! You are officially the best boyfriend ever. And I promise I won’t make you go through that again.”
After a day of relative chaste pecks on the cheek or lips, Becker was ready for a rather more substantial snog. The beer could wait. He hoisted her up in his arms and she crossed her heels around his waist as he held her weight. When he finally came up for air, he rested his forehead on hers and said, “Are you willing to be sworn to secrecy if I tell you something?”
“Pinky swear,” she declared happily, rubbing her nose against his.
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t ask me to do it again. I really do like watching you have fun.”
Her arms tightened around his neck and she claimed his lips in a fierce kiss.
It looked like Becker was going to be able to take the weight off his feet rather sooner than he’d anticipated.
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Rating : 15
Characters : Becker/Jess
Disclaimer : Not mine, no money made, don’t sue.
Spoilers : None
Word Count : 3,044
Summary : Becker makes a promise and Jess holds him to it.
A/N : Written for
clea2011’s birthday. I hope you have a lovely day!“Jess, we really need that swing bridge closed!” Becker fought to keep his voice under control as he tore along the road to the river in his trick, siren blaring and lights flashing.
“I’m a bit too far away to give it a push!” Jess retorted acerbically. “It’s being done, Becker. At the worst you’ll have to jump a couple of feet at your end. The barriers are being raised now. You’ll have a clear run at it.”
“I am not a fucking stunt driver!”
“Language!” Jess admonished. “I’ve told you loads of times, calls may be recorded for quality or training purposes.”
“Jess!”
“Yes, Becker?”
“Make sure that bridge is closed in time and I promise to go shopping with you on Saturday!”
Despite the number of claims for vehicle damage he had to submit, Becker didn’t actually consider himself a reckless driver and he had absolutely no desire to see if he could make the truck jump a gap between the road and the swing bridge. From the sound of the radio traffic coming out of the second vehicle in their convoy, Matt felt the same.
“That’ll be lovely,” Jess said sweetly. “Just trust me and keep driving, Becker. It’ll all be fine.”
The thing was, even though Becker was rapidly approaching a gap that currently looked as wide as the Grand Canyon and that was not narrowing anywhere near as fast as he would have liked, he did trust Jess. Despite her youth, elfin looks, and liking for short skirts and bright colours, their field coordinator was good at her job, damned good. When the call had come in about a pack of something that looked like over-sized wolves terrorising a small village, they’d been an hour’s drive away and time was very definitely of the essence as the local police certainly weren’t equipped to deal with the problem.
Everyone had been told to stay at home, keep their animals inside and wait for the ARC team to arrive. But they had twenty young children trapped in a school and not everyone was sensible enough to heed the warnings, so Becker and the team needed to get there as quickly a possible. The only problem was that the fastest route to the trouble spot had a river in the way, and a swing bridge that had been kept open for maintenance purposes.
Jess had promptly made contact with the company working on the bridge who’d assured her they could get it closed in time for Becker’s arrival. The works foreman was in constant contact with her and she appeared confident in his ability to deliver his promise, but she wasn’t the one hurtling down the approach road at 67mph.
In the next 30 seconds, Becker was going to be committed to making the jump, whether he wanted to or not. If he braked now, Matt’s truck would ram right up his arse, which wouldn’t be conducive to good working relationships or to the ARC’s policy of only insuring their vehicles third party (because anything else was just too fucking expensive, according to Lester).
If it hadn’t been for the need to see where he was going, he’d just close his eyes and hope for the best, which appeared to be the course of action Connor had decided on, and Becker couldn’t blame him.
“My life in your hands, Jess,” Becker muttered. “You better be right!”
“Of course I’m right,” she said in his ear. “You know how much I like taking you shopping. And by the way, you’ve got to do it with good grace…”
Becker groaned and kept his foot on the accelerator.
The truck hurtled down the slight hill to the bridge, which was now within a couple of feet of joining up with the main road surface, but there was still a potentially tyre-wrecking gap between the two sections of tarmac. Hanging onto the thought that their field coordinator was not usually wrong, Becker kept accelerating….
****
“There, I told you it’d be all right,” Jess said brightly, as Becker and the rest of the team trailed back into the Hub, tired, dirty and heartily sick of hauling several large, smelly and probably flea-ridden dire wolves back through the anomaly.
They’d managed to bring all of them down with the EMDs, so everyone was in Abby’s good books for once, but it had been a long day of hunting the creatures and making sure Mrs Wellinghall’s large and distinctly obstreperous tabby cat didn’t end up as wolf kibble. He’d have been quite happy to leave the bloody thing to its own devices, but if they’d done that, they’d have had an even more obstreperous octogenarian to deal with, and on balance, Matt had quite reasonably ruled that the cat was the lesser of two evils, so they’d had to find it as well. The damned cat had caused more aggro than all of the wolves put together.
“Yes, you did,” he admitted, knowing that resistance was futile. He took a large bar of chocolate out of his jacket pocket, along with a jar of homemade strawberry jam, courtesy of the chairman of the local Women’s Institute. They’d come away with enough jam, chutney and cakes to sink a battleship, but had still needed to make a chocolate stop on the way back. “You’re a genius.”
She beamed at him. “Report for shopping duty tomorrow at 9.30 sharp.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Becker said. He was an officer and a gentleman. He could cope with a shopping trip.
****
By 10.30, Becker had realised that this was going to be no ordinary shopping trip.
He’d presented himself at Jess’ flat as ordered. She’d equally promptly hauled him off to the nearest tube station and had insisted on heading straight to Regent Street where she had an appointment for a bra fitting at Rigby and Peller.
Even with the full weight of his Special Forces training to back him up, Becker nearly quailed at the idea of walking into a ladies’ lingerie shop, even if it was somewhat more discreet than Ann Summers. Slinking in behind Jess and hoping to hide somewhere was doomed to immediate failure. Jess was whisked off to a fitting room and Becker gratefully accepted a cup of coffee from a rather scary-looking assistant with more front than Sainsburys who looked like she ate army captains for breakfast and picked the bits out of her teeth with an elegantly-filed blood-red fingernail.
The coffee was good and he promptly buried himself in the latest Andy McNab bollocks on his tablet. That lasted all of five minutes. He was then called in to adjudicate between two virtually identical bras both at eye-watering prices. He opted for the one with small, purple flowers, hoping he was saying the right thing. Jess dithered for another 20 minutes then decided to buy both, adding a third in a rather startling shade of lime green just for good measure. He admired that as well, hoping he sounded sufficiently enthusiastic.
“You’ve got him well-trained,” the scary woman remarked, smiling at Jess.
Jess beamed and patted his arm. “He has his moments,” she confided, leaving Becker wondering quite what that meant but not daring to ask. He knew when not to push his luck. His role today was to look decorative, make approving noises on cue and carry the bags.
From there, Jess dived straight into an equally expensive-looking shoe shop. The decision making in their was even harder, leaving Becker trying to make acceptable comments on a seemingly endless parade of footwear, all in bright colours, all leaving him wondering how the hell Jess could manage to put one foot in front of the other in any of them. After the first five minutes, Becker decided that even walking across the shop in some of them looked harder than running repeatedly up Pen y Fan in full kit on the hottest day of the year. He was just exceedingly grateful that Jess showed no signs of wanting to add spice to their sex life by getting him to dress in women’s clothing. Not for any amount of conveniently closing swing-bridges would he put something like that on his feet and attempt to walk anywhere. And wearing women’s stockings or any other items of clothing had very definitely never appealed to him.
“Becker, you’re miles away! What are you thinking about?” Jess was standing in front of him wearing a pair of crimson shoes with pointed toes and stiletto heels, her hands on her hips.
“I was trying to decide between those and the gold ones,” he said quickly, hoping against hope that a) he wasn’t blushing and b) she’d actually tried on the gold pair the assistant had fetched for her.
From the look on her face, Jess was still suspicious, but seemed somewhat mollified by the fact that he appeared to be taking the choice of shoe seriously. Plastering a smile on his face and making a bid for the ‘boyfriend of the year’ award, Becker solicitously asked which of the serried ranks of brightly-coloured shoes were the most comfortable. That evoked a withering look. Comfort was clearly not a high priority.
An hour later, after trying on what seemed like the entire stock, Jess decided on three purchases: a white pair with red polka dots and high, thin heels, a pair of bright purple ankle boots with something called kitten heels (he hadn’t dared ask why), and a pair of yellow, strappy sandals that almost looked like they might have been designed for comfort as well as looks.
Becker made admiring noises about all three, prompting the sale assistant to remark to Jess that she wished her boyfriend would put up with shoe shopping with such good grace. That earned Becker a beaming smile and, somewhat to his surprise, he found that he was starting to enjoy himself. Jess’ evident pleasure in shopping was actually starting to become rather infectious. She did a high-stress job, often working anti-social hours. The whole team depended on her and she carried a lot of responsibility on those slender shoulders. Sometimes people died, and Becker knew she took every death to heart, constantly revising their field protocols, striving every day to be faster, smarter and better prepared than the day before.
If shopping with Becker in tow made her happy, then that was fine by him.
Their next stop was a little boutique in Soho selling scarves of every conceivable colour and type. That was easy. Scarves were something that Becker felt capable of offering an opinion on. He picked one off the display in thin, floaty cotton, a riot of colours in floral shapes jumping out at him: red, purple, blue, pink and green. He draped it around Jess’ neck and said, “This one. My treat.”
Her eyes widened slightly in quickly-masked surprise. She twisted the scarf into an artful knot and admired her refection in the mirror. “It’s lovely,” she said happily. “Thank you!”
Another one, this time in soft wool, in a haze of rather more muted colours, took her fancy. It was wide enough to wear as a shawl and it looked good on her. Becker said so and yet another shop assistant looked surprised. Becker was starting to realise that boyfriends prepared to enter into the spirit of things on a shopping trip were a scarce commodity.
“Lunch?” he suggested, after two scarves had been added to the growing collection of bags he was carrying.
They found a nice-looking wine bar in a courtyard near Covent Garden and settled down, bags around their feet. Jess ordered a white wine and Becker went for a beer while they looked at the menu. The food was good, the service was friendly and Jess chattered away happily about where she wanted to go in the afternoon. It looked like the craft stalls in and around Covent Garden was next on the agenda, followed by a trip over to Knightsbridge to Harvey Nicholls.
Covent Garden was busy but by then, rather than being irritable with the crowds, Becker was thoroughly entranced by the sight of Jess so obviously enjoying herself. He helped her choose a pair of beautiful lace-wool wrist warmers, a purple notebook with an intricate peacock design on the front, two pairs of earrings and some scented candles for her flat. They mooched around the other stalls, bonding over a dislike of anything labelled ‘shabby chic’, which to Becker’s eyes just appeared to be another way to describe badly-painted furniture. Jess much preferred bold colours and shiny plastic when it came to that sort of accessory.
By the time they made their way out of the tube at Knightsbridge, Becker had realised that this was a very good dry-run for his Christmas shopping. He was getting plenty of hands-on experience of what Jess liked and disliked, and although he couldn’t buy her shoes and clothes, he could certainly handle scarves and jewellery.
“I can’t believe this is the first time you’ve ever set foot in here!” Jess exclaimed as they passed into the hallowed ground of her favourite department store.
“Guilty as charged, ma’am.”
She linked her arm with his and confided, “You’ll probably hate it, but they do nice afternoon teas.”
He couldn’t slip an arm around because both hands were fully occupied with carrier bags, but he did bend down and press a light kiss on her cheek. “It’s actually nowhere near as bad as I’d expected,” he said truthfully. “I like watching you enjoy yourself.”
She smiled up at him. “I think that’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me.”
“What, nicer that calling you a genius at regular intervals?”
“That’s work. This is shopping.”
“Dealing with dinosaurs can be less scary.”
“Wimp.”
The department store definitely wasn’t as much fun as the small stalls and shops in Covent Garden, but Becker felt that he ended up acquitting himself quite well, adjudicating with a degree of confidence between several dresses, one of which was distinctly unflattering. He hadn’t been sure quite how Jess would react to being told that something didn’t suit her but, to Becker’s surprise, his comments actually went down quite well and – it seemed – coincided with her inner doubts, so that was another hurdle safely jumped. At least he hadn’t had to tell her that her bum looked big in something. But then Becker couldn’t actually imagine Jess’ bum looking big in anything.
The coffee shop did indeed do excellent afternoon cream teas, and even after a large lunch, he was feeling distinctly peckish by then. It was no wonder that Jess managed to stay so trim even after shovelling away so much chocolate. Shopping was hard work.
Speaking of chocolate…
When Jess went off to the ladies, Becker quickly consulted the wisdom of Google on his tablet and found the address of an up-market chocolatier not very far away from them. When he suggested it, Jess’ eyes lit up again with surprise and delight, so that idea was definitely a hit.
Rococo was only a few minutes walk away and once inside, Jess was in her element. Her enthusiasm was infectious and, after ascertaining that they did gift boxes, Becker promptly gave Jess free rein to pick what she wanted. His treat again.
She looked up at him sternly. “Becker, you’ve already bought me a present today!”
“I like buying you presents! It’s just that I’ve never really known what to buy you before.”
It was nothing but the truth. Shopping had always been a bit of a mystery to Becker. He stocked up the freezer and the fridge every week or so, bought clothes when he needed them and added the occasional novel to his Kindle app or bought a history book if he saw something that interested him on Amazon. It didn’t even make a dent in the money the Government paid him for chasing dinosaurs. At this rate, he’d probably be able to buy his own tank in a few years!
That earned him another kiss. Jess then threw herself into the serious business of buying chocolate. A wide variety of organic chocolate bars – none of them orange-flavoured – made their way into the box, accompanied by thin chocolates, fat chocolates and even chocolates shaped like sardines. In fact there was the most bewildering array of chocolates that Becker had ever seen in his life.
Christmas shopping was going to be an awful lot easier that Becker had ever imagined.
By the time they staggered back to Jess’ flat, his arms were aching under the weight of the bags, he felt like he’d gone three rounds with a G. rex and a dire wolf tag-teaming him, and his feet hurt more than they’d done since his first day of basic training. But Jess, in spite of her unsuitable heels, was still skipping along happily like a hyperactive pixie.
Once they got inside, he showed commendable restraint and didn’t just dump the whole lot on the floor and dash to the fridge for a cold beer. Instead, he laid the bags down with due reverence on the table and raised one eyebrow. “Did I do all right?”
She jumped up and threw her arms around his neck. “You did better than all right, you did brilliantly! You are officially the best boyfriend ever. And I promise I won’t make you go through that again.”
After a day of relative chaste pecks on the cheek or lips, Becker was ready for a rather more substantial snog. The beer could wait. He hoisted her up in his arms and she crossed her heels around his waist as he held her weight. When he finally came up for air, he rested his forehead on hers and said, “Are you willing to be sworn to secrecy if I tell you something?”
“Pinky swear,” she declared happily, rubbing her nose against his.
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t ask me to do it again. I really do like watching you have fun.”
Her arms tightened around his neck and she claimed his lips in a fierce kiss.
It looked like Becker was going to be able to take the weight off his feet rather sooner than he’d anticipated.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2014-11-10 02:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-25 12:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-10 05:14 pm (UTC)My howl just sent the local feral cats scurrying for cover...
At this rate, he’d probably be able to buy his own tank in a few years!
*giggle*
he felt like he’d gone three rounds with a G. rex and a dire wolf tag-teaming him, . . . But Jess, . . . was still skipping along happily like a hyperactive pixie.
Adore those descriptions!
Heeee for the last line!
Delightful.
no subject
Date: 2014-11-25 12:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-10 06:36 pm (UTC)Also, I now feel the urge to go shopping round Covent Garden.
Enjoyed this hugely, thank you very much <3
no subject
Date: 2014-11-25 12:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-10 07:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-25 12:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-10 08:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-25 12:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-10 10:51 pm (UTC)Becker is a fab boyfriend - living right up to his promise not to grumble. I like that he realises his limitations on what he'll be able to buy on his own. And Jess clearly has so much pleasure in shopping it's impossible not to enjoy her enjoyment.
LOL at Becker's half-formed buying his own tank dreams.
no subject
Date: 2014-11-25 12:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-11 08:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-25 12:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-13 04:18 am (UTC)I can imagine Jess's enthusiasm can rub off on even the most inexperienced of shoppers. I liked Becker's thoughts throughout, and how it tied back to how hard Jess worked at her job.
no subject
Date: 2014-11-25 12:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-13 08:59 pm (UTC)“I am not a fucking stunt driver!”
“Language!” Jess admonished. “I’ve told you loads of times, calls may be recorded for quality or training purposes.”
HEE
From the excitement of the chase to the bras and shoes (why *are* they called kitten heels??) to the lovely lunch and the no doubt horribly expensive but delicious chocolates, it was beautifully paced and put a huge grin on my face!
Loved it.
no subject
Date: 2014-11-25 12:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-14 03:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-25 12:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-24 08:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-11-25 12:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-12-20 06:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-12-20 07:16 pm (UTC)