Seven Drinks that Nathan and Jack Sorta Share - 2008 Fic Exchange

Title: Seven Drinks that Nathan and Jack Sorta Share
Author: strifechaos
Category: romance
Pairing/character: Nathan Stark/Jack Cater
Rating: PG-13 (swearing and dirty minds)
Disclaimer: I don't own Eureka, that would be the Sci-Fi channel people.
Prompt: First Time, Romance, h/c (any one of those or a combo)
Word Count: ~ 3,100
Warnings: UST-ish
Notes: This was written for : . Sorry for the long wait the only thing I could think to write when I got the prompt was "arranged marriage" fic. 0.o Written for the 2008 Fic Exchange.






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After a particularly difficult case, Jack camps out on the couch in the living room, a beer in hand and a Yankees game on. However, today had not been just a difficult case but also an extremely disturbing one, proof enough that not everything in Eureka was science geeks gone wild but that sick people were everywhere. So while Jack was still camped out on the couch, today he had a glass and bottle of Jack Daniel’s, and as he took a gulp of the whiskey S.A.R.A.H. announced a visitor.

“Doctor Stark is at the door.” S.A.R.A.H. chimed imploringly. Jack shook his head, burrowing deeper into the couch. Some days he hated being an adult. Hated having to let anyone in but Stark was the wily kind of bastard that wouldn’t leave until he’d done his piece and then Jack could get back to trying to erase this day from his mind. “Let him in, Sarah.”

The tall scientist stalked into the bunker, locking in on Carter almost immediately with terrifying accuracy and swept over to the couch in six precise steps, Jack, having already partaken of quite a bit of his bottle, was memorized by the feline grace of the action. How the liquid smooth way of moving that the scientist employed on a daily basis looked: determined and stubborn, with a purpose.

“Stark! What brings ya down?” Jack slurped from his glass, eyeing Nathan over the rim. “Drink?” Jack didn’t wait for Stark to answer, pulling out another glass and slopping some of the whiskey in before sliding it over to him.

Nathan sighed, hand reaching down automatically to grab the tumbler but not lifting it to his mouth, instead he rests the cool glass against his palm, long fingers wrapping around it. “I didn’t come here for a drink, Carter.”

Jack laughed without humor. “Yeah? That, well …I think I can handle it for the both of us.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Jack snorts loudly but Nathan doesn’t even pause, “what Katharine Kurbanov was immoral, wrong but it was nothing under your own control, sheriff.”

Jack let the harsh, smoky flavor of the whiskey run over his tongue one more time before he sets the tumbler down, reluctantly. He tries to hear Stark’s words, but his voice is distracting Jack’s addled mind, the low almost sultry voice drags his mind away from darker experiences so he sits on his couch, next to Nathan Stark of all people, and lets his tone if not his words sooth his guilt ridden conscious, wanting so badly for his words to be the key, to provide the solace that he’s sought for so long that alcohol never could.


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“Fargo! I ordered that coffee twenty minutes ago, what the hell is taking so long?” Global Dynamics was being a particular bitch today, and the only thing Nathan wanted right now was a cup of fucking coffee, some caffeine to stem off the astounding ineptitude of people that were supposed to be the brightest.

“Something the matter with your legs, Stark?”

Nathan looked up from his datapad to glare at the sheriff as he swaggers into Nathan’s lab like it wasn’t out of place, or that him being there was completely normal. Stark leaned back in his chair and gave the sheriff more attention that was likely due, but Jack was generally good for a few laughs, whether with or at him didn’t really matter. After the shitty day he’d been having a bit of a break wouldn’t be too bad.

“Something the matter with your hearing, Carter? I distinctly remember talking to my assistant, not the local law enforcement.”

Jack shrugged, setting the coffee mug down on the scientist’s desk. “Yeah, well I felt bad for the guy.”

Nathan arched a speculative eyebrow but didn’t rise to the bait to ask the obvious question about WHY the sheriff felt bad for Fargo. It wouldn’t be important, at least to Nathan, and if anything was bothering Fargo ten to one it was also completely trivial. It always was, like Larry visiting for a few minutes to try and put a bee in his bonnet.

Cup in hand, Nathan playfully raised both eyebrows at the sheriff’s unexpected gesture and took a sip from the mug. Swiftly spewing the contents across his pants as the sugary sweetness catches up with his taste buds.

“What the hell, Carter! Are you trying to put me in a diabetic coma?”

Jack grinned puckishly, “What’s the matter Stark, can’t handle your coffee?”

Snorting, Nathan shook his head. “If this sugar flavored monstrosity that’s masquerading as my coffee is what you’re referring to then, no, I’d rather not.” Nathan searched for a napkin and made a mental note to stop by the dry cleaner’s on the way home. On second thought, he’d make Fargo do it since it was his fault he was covered in the stuff.

A quick step and swipe later, and Jack tilted Nathan’s cup to his mouth to take a swig of the concoction, a move that Alison had learned early on in their relationship wasn’t to be tolerated---that Nathan Stark had a deep and meaningful relationship with caffeine--- that was strictly monogamous and most importantly never to be interrupted or stolen. A well-known fact that Fargo had spread among the employees of GD. So after Nathan had reigned in the instinctual homicidal urges, and squashed the urge to grab Jack, he was able to take notice of the sheriff’s face twisting comically.

“Urgh!”

Maybe sharing wasn’t so overrated.


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Arms burning, Nathan slowly lowered the bar to the ground and turned down the dial so that the EM field repelled the weight to a moderate degree.

“Good workout?”

The sheriff looked too pleased by half for Nathan’s well being. “Any reason you ask?”

Jack shrugged, the sleeveless cutoff drawing Nathan’s eyes to the broad shoulders. To divert him from perving on Jack’s style of stretching, Nathan wiped his brow with the towel lying across his neck, relishing the slow ache building in his muscles from his reps.

“Not really, just trying this thing people do when they’re together,” Jack said, grunting as he lifted up a barbell weight, “y’know …conversation.”

Nathan rolled his eyes, ignoring Jack’s unconscious innuendo. “Just because I don’t have them with you doesn’t mean I don’t know what they are, merely that I select reasonably intelligent people to speak with when I do, Carter.”

“Ouch.” Jack looked up at Nathan, face scrunched into a pained mask, Nathan just smirked and pick up his water bottle taking a drink.

When asked later Jack would swear that he’d had a spasm in his arm and that was why he dropped the weight on his foot, what he absolutely did not tell anyone was that it was Stark---head thrown back and throat bared as he swallowed water from his sports bottle, that distracted him into almost breaking four of his toes. Absolutely not.


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Right at this moment in time Nathan Stark would give anything for a cool glass of freshly squeezed lemonade. Sweating with condensation and ice cubes making those low tinkling sounds as they rattle around the glass. Anything. Even the particle radiation exasperation spatter field emitter from section three. The particle radiation exasperation spatter field emitter that cost close to three-fourths what Sheriff Carter would make in seven lifetimes. Anything.

Because as Nathan stomped through the thick Amazonian plant life, cursing the day the GD director ever thought hiring a botanist could be considered progression or something that ought to be condoned, the thing he wanted most in the world was a tall glass full of lemonade and ice cubes, slick and cool and maybe a little umbrella and slice of lime stuck in the side. Really.

The last thing he wanted was to stay in this god forsaken rain forest that Bret Stevens (botanist) made for kicks and giggles, looking for the moron---especially not with Jack at his side, sweaty and panting.

Eureka’s sheriff had long given up any semblance of uniform as the temperature had risen well into the hundreds within the dense foliage. Now, unbuttoned and untucked, the black undershirt was damp with sweat, and the khaki pants were even clingier than usual and as Jack bumped periodically into the scientist, sweat soaked skin sliding sinuously against Nathan’s for the briefest of torturous moments, Nathan was sure that he wanted lemonade.

Stark had already stumped into three trees and over two roots because of those pants. To keep his mind off of Carter’s full, round rear end Nathan pictured that tall, ice coated refreshingly cool glass of lemonade he’d be ordering once Stevens was found. And was most certainly not thinking about how easy it would be to pin Carter to the nearest tree and skin him out of his remaining uniform to enjoy less reputable wanton pursuits.

Lemonade. He wanted lemonade, dammit!


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The tea cup fell from his numbed fingers, hands scratching at his throat as the burning liquid scorched his throat, Jack coughed to help alleviate the pressure on his lungs but it didn’t work. Dr. Ray Wayen wrung his hands, standing up from his seat and stuttering in place.

“Oh gosh! I….I don’t know why that’s happening! That isn’t how it’s supposed to work!” He shook his head rapidly as it might make the chemicals suddenly obey his wishes. “I…we…the chemical formula was very specific, this shouldn’t be happening, Sheriff!”

“Call…help!” gasped Jack, bent over at the waist and breathing in as deeply as he could, his lungs screaming at him for oxygen.

“Right, yes, of course!” Dr. Wayen agreed, and then continued to stand there.

“NOW!” Jack bellowed, throat swelling rapidly, he pawed at his side pocket, desperately trying to draw out the object within.

Help arrived a few minutes later in the form of Stark and Alison, Fargo trailing behind them bleating out questions.

“Carter?” Alison called out, until she saw him lying on the lab floor, Dr. Wayen fluttering about like a headless chicken. “ Jack! What’s the problem?” Alison rushed over to the sheriff, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and moving him into a sitting position, checking his pupils and pulse.

Nathan barked, turning towards the nutritionist, “What have you done now Wayen?”

Ray put his hands out in front of him as if this might deter Stark from charging him like a rampaging bull. “Whoa! Wait just a second. I listened to the directions exactly!”

Fargo bumped in, scooping up one of the remaining tea cups and sniffing the solution. He wrinkled his nose and set it back down, pushing his glasses back up. “Isn’t that the stuff from Becky Brown’s lab?”

Alison shot Wayen a venomous glare. “What were you doing in a section four lab, Ray?”

He shrugged wildly, taking several steps back. “Well…I mean, if it would have worked think of all the great things that we could have accomplished! And my deadline was so close, and Becky Brown would just never shut up about the progress she was making in her formula! I followed it exactly! He shouldn’t be reacting this way; you’ve got to believe me!”

With a roll of his eyes, Nathan left the nutritionist, scoping out the formula written out in painstaking script on the counter. “We’re going to need Doctor Brown to come in and go over the chemicals. Security will have to remove Doctor Wayen from the premise, Fargo I want an analyst of all the compounds in the Sheriff’s drink. Alison call the infirmary and have them bring---“

Jack shook his head weakly. “Pen!” He scrambled weakly at his side pocket again, fingers still fumbling uselessly at the button.

Nathan felt his brow scrunch up in confusion, but stepped away from the desk and strode over to the sheriff and his ex-wife, kneeling down next to them and undoing the button. He reached inside and drew out a long pen-like applicator.

“An EpiPen?” Fargo asked, blinking in confusion.

“Dammit, Jack.” Nathan growled, ripping off the grey cap and forming a fist around the autoinjector he jammed it into the other man’s thigh, holding it there for ten seconds as the spring-loaded needle got to work.

“Get a medical team down here now, Fargo!”


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There was something soothing about a milkshake, it was reminiscent of simpler times and the past. When things weren’t so difficult and doing the right thing wasn’t so hard to decipher. Nathan stared out from his table, lost in thought until the chair across from his was pulled out and Jack Carter seated himself in it.

“Yes?”

Jack fidgeted, looking more like a naughty little school boy than Nathan would have thought possible given that the man was not only in his thirties but also a law enforcement officer. “So…thanks…”Jack made a gesture with his hand as if it would explain what he was referring to, but when Nathan’s face remained blank Jack sighed and continued. “For saving my life the other day.”

Nathan gave him an evaluating look. “I’m surprised to see you out of the infirmary so soon, Carter.”

If Nathan thought he looked like a little boy before than he obviously hadn’t seen anything in the Carter arsenal yet. Jack literally squirmed in his seat, eyes shifty and head down as he shrugged. “Yeah, well…I may have used some unconventional methods to get out.” He looked away from Nathan’s amused smirk. “Just…thank you, for yesterday.”

Having made Jack squirm long enough Nathan let him off the hook. “No problem, Carter.” The brilliant smile that Jack shot his way made his stomach clench. He took a sip of his drink, drawing Jack’s attention to it for the first time since he’d sat down.

“So whatcha drinking?”

“Strawberry milkshake.” Nathan grinned as Jack blanched, Jack pointed a stern finger at the scientist.

“Now that is just mean.”


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Jack sipped the hot chocolate slowly, both out of self defense because of the boiling temperature and in an attempt to savor the rich flavor. Many could attest that Jack Carter was a man of simple pleasures, give him a beer, steak and ballgame and he’s a happy camper. Still, there was something intrinsically homey about a hot cup of cocoa on a blustery and slow winter day. The weather in Eureka had been snow covered for the past two weeks, and while the inventive scientists had come up with several clever ways of clearing the snow from the roads and sidewalks, Jack still found himself going out of his way to take a break when things were slow or he had free time to sit out on the park bench near the Archimedes water fountain.

Snowflakes fell fat and lazy on his eyelashes, decorating his brown leather coat and clumping sporadically in his hair. A brisk wind blew by, sending a fresh crop of goose bumps erupting over his arms and legs, in defense Jack raised his drink to his lips and after pausing to simply inhale the fragrant coco based drink he swallowed a fiery gulp of it. Instantly his insides warm up, goose bumps gone just as quickly as they’d appeared.

By the time another person braved the winter weather there are only dregs left in Jack’s cup, though his lips have a layer of residual chocolate drink coating them and his cheeks, nose and ears have turned bright red.

“Have a seat, Stark.” Jack invited without looking away from the flurries of snow flipping through the wind.

Nathan flinched instinctively at being caught unaware when he’d been trying to be stealthy but nodded, still out of Jack’s line of view, and slowly lowered himself to the bench, sitting closer to Jack than the sheriff had expected. By this point Jack was rudely aware that he’s stayed out too long, his muscles stiff with the cold and inaction, and was more grateful for the extra body heat that Stark is giving off like a furnace, than’ he’d ever admit to the man even under duress.

Instead, Jack curled closer to Nathan, turning so that his body was facing the taller man.

“How’d you know it was me?”

Jack shrugged and remained silent, staring up at the night sky.

Nathan blew out a breath, thick with emotions like regret and annoyance, he’s more comfortable with the latter but lately Nathan has found himself to be plagued with the former. Tentatively, not a word that can describe anything Nathan Stark did normally, like brash or brilliant or charming would be, but as not to spook the silent chilled man next to him, Nathan made the effort, he lay a hand on Jack’s broad shoulder. In doing so he nudged a small clump of snow from its perch on the sheriff’s coat.

“You should head home, Jack.”

Jack bit his bottom lip, worrying at it for a few seconds, long enough that the scientist found himself staring at Jack’s mouth as Jack leant into Nathan’s hand. Jack told himself it’s because he’s so cold, but it’s wasn’t.

“Did you know that every snowflake is different?” Jack stared down at his hands, frozen and still clutching his empty mug, he’d have to stop by Café Diem before heading home.

Nathan quirked an eyebrow, turning his head to the side to look at Carter, unsure if he’s serious or trying to be silly, sometimes the difficulty of communicating with Jack wasn’t due to the differences in their IQs but in discerning when the sheriff was making a point or using his own brand of humor. The most disturbing were the times, which Nathan had noticed were coming more and more often, where he followed along with Jack’s tangential way of thought with a scary ease, the way the jumps and leaps were getting more and more easy to follow as if they were his own.

“Snowflakes, perhaps, but what we’re experiencing are the unexpected side effects from a project gone astray from section two.” Nathan states so matter-of-factorly that Jack can’t stop his head from turning and looking at the other man. He waits a beat before asking.

“Fake snow?”

Nathan faltered at Carter’s betrayed tone, like Nathan was Heat Miser here to ruin Jack’s winter wonderland but after a thoughtful pause answered anyways.

“If following the strictest definition of the word and over simplifying the project…then yes, Carter, fake snow.”

“Huh.”

They both remain on the bench for a while longer, each man wordlessly contemplating the other, eyes staring out at the whirls and dips of Eureka bathed in a fake wonderland of frozen water crystals.


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The End