igotacrossbow | open post

"Fuck no, I offered her coffee and she punched me so hard, feels like I just got my booster shots," Pooch complains, not caring about Jensen's state of undress. The whole team's seen worse when it comes to the man, given his hacking 'uniform', so to speak. "So I figure, she's this mad? Gotta be you," he points out. "So if you're not falling down on your Cougar-pleasuring duties, what is it? Ate the last of the chocolates? Put a fingerprint on her scope?"

He's rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses, indulging in a jaw-cracking yawn as he sits upright properly.

"Dude. I don't touch Cougar's gun, and she doesn't touch my computer. It's our thing."

His modesty covered only by the sheet pooled low at his hips, he scratches at his chest. "Gimme," he says, reaching for the coffee. If that's not the last of it, there's more in the kitchen, which means Pooch can go get more. "Look, man, I don't know why she's so mad. She was fine last night after her doctor's appointment."

Pooch raises his eyebrow, all that teasing falling away. "I know Cougar likes to play 'shut up and make us guess', but you'd tell us if she's sick, right?" She hadn't looked sick, just pissed off, though with Cougar, it's a little hard to tell what degree of pissed off she is, unless you're Jake.

"C'mon, J, wear some fucking shorts to bed. Not everyone wants to see that."

"If I knew she was sick, I'd tell you." Especially if it endangered her health enough to threaten any missions they might be sent on. Cougar is famously private, and he wouldn't want to jeopardize that, but if it was about her health...

He looks down at himself and shrugs. Everything is mostly covered. Pooch is just being dramatic.

"I think I know where she is. Hand me my boxers, I'll go talk to her."

"Your funeral, man," Pooch comments on his way out, heading back to the kitchen because now he needs another cup of coffee seeing as his got stolen (never mind that it had been Cougar's in the first place). He throws the boxers over so that they land on Jensen's head, saluting him. "Good luck, brother."

The woman in question has managed to take apart most of the rifle and is slowly working on cleaning each part. Last night, the news hadn't seemed upsetting. One full night without sleep has left her time to think. It's not the physical part she worries about, because she's been tortured and knows how to cope.

No, it's the future in front of her that she never considered before. That's what's terrifying and uncertain, and Cougar can't even call home because she'll just get a lecture about getting knocked up before her partner and steady lay proposed.

He just about drains his coffee by the time he's more or less presentable — just the boxers Pooch tossed at his head and a t-shirt swiped from the pile in the corner — and then he's off Cougar-hunting, looking for his best girl.

Not that he'd call her that within her hearing. Cougar can be famously touchy, and if she's already in a bad mood...

His shoulders are too broad to fit comfortably in all the spaces Cougar tucks herself into, but he does his best, crawling up into her little hidey hole and knocking on the wall before he gets too deep in just in case she doesn't want his company at all.

"Cougs?" he calls softly, poking his head up like a groundhog. "Babe, are you okay?"

Cougar can fold herself into most spaces. Not for much longer, though, seeing as she's been tracking the progress in her head and knows that she only has another six and a half months before she's going to have to leave the only job that she's been good at. And then what? What skills does a sniper have to offer the world?

And what kind of mother is she even going to be? He adjusts the mess and tugs the cloth to the side so Jake won't sit on anything. "You snored," she accuses, her expression far from pleased. "Couldn't sleep at all."

Bracing his arms on the floor of her crawlspace, Jake hangs half-in and half-out, not wanting to crowd her too much when she's clearly touchy.

"I'm sorry," she says quietly, frowning at her. "You should have woken me."

Tentatively, in case she doesn't want to be touched, he reaches out and strokes a hand down her shin, winding up with his fingers curled loosely around her ankle.

It had just kept her up and given her time to think. Too much time to think, because now she's worked herself into this prison of the mind that always happens when she turns herself inward and keeps thinking about her problems without letting any of them spill out. She exhales and stares at Jake, unflinching, and knows she can't tell him.

Not yet. Not until she has a plan.

"Breakfast," is all she says, eyes sharp. "Make me some. I'll come down."

Cougar doesn't talk much, that's hardly a surprise. But for her not to talk to him is more unusual. Still, he tries not to let his disappointment show too much and squeezes her ankle instead, nodding and giving her a reassuring smile.

"Okay," he agrees. "Ten minutes?"

She knows that he has to find out, but Cougar is being a coward. It's not often that happens, but just enough that it's preventing her from letting Jake know that he's going to be a father, all because for a few days, Cougar had been lax with her control, thinking that it wouldn't matter.

She assembles the rifle and slings it over her shoulder as she crawls out to head downstairs to the mess, meeting Clay in that small little kitchen and sending him leaving with a pointed look. Aisha isn't sent leaving so easily, but she's got keen eyes on Cougar, which makes her feel like she's going to be found out.

"Coffee?" Aisha asks and extends it to her.

Cougar's lips curl in a sharp, displeased smirk. She knows what this is. This isn't kindness, this is a test. This is Aisha being too perceptive and sharing space with Cougar, no doubt knowing her routines and her cycle.

"Not yet," is Cougar's reply, but it seems to be enough for Aisha to get a knowing gleam in her eyes. "Maybe later," she says, sitting in the chair and propping one foot up on the table.

Pooch had once accused Jake of acting like a kicked puppy when he was afraid he'd upset someone, slinking around their base with his tail between his legs. It's that much worse when it's Cougar that he's worried about. Looking even more like a chastened dog, he practically whimpers sadly as he makes scrambled eggs and toast, one of the few meals he can cook without burning everything.

It's ready by the time Cougar comes into the kitchen, and he sets a plate down in front of her when she finally takes a seat, sniping at Aisha in a way that makes Jake profoundly nervous.

He stops behind her, settling one hand on the back of her chair, and gives Aisha a pointed look over Cougar's shoulder.

"Aisha, can you give us a minute?"

Cougar's never forgiven her for shooting him, and he'd really rather not try to talk to his girlfriend while she's having a deadly staring match with their slightly psychotic bankroll.

"Okay, papi," Aisha sing-songs on her way out, which is the last straw for Cougar. The pistol is out of the holster and the only reason Aisha doesn't get a bullet in her shoulder is because the safety is on. By the time Cougar's clicked it off, she's ducked around the corner, leaving Cougar to swear under her breath about nosy bitches who poke their nose into everything.

Cougar shoves the safety back on and slams the pistol on the table, shoveling eggs into her mouth while the nausea is still gone, taking advantage of the moment.

Cougar whipping out her gun to point it at Aisha's retreating back has him yelping out an alarmed "Jesus, Carla!" at her as he scrambles to try and hold her back.

Aisha doesn't seem to be worried about her narrow brush with death, cackling as she darts down the corridor. Cougar, even grumpier than before, starts cramming the food he cooked into her mouth, fast enough that he gets a little concerned.

Cautiously, he finds himself a seat and scoots it closer, frowning at her. "Cougs, babe, what's wrong? Was it something I did? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, I know I can be kind of an idiot sometimes, but it was an accident I swear. Whatever it was."

Cougar snorts when Jake uses the word 'accident' and gives him a disbelieving look. "Yes," is all she says, heavy and emphatic as she turns to her toast, tearing it apart into pieces viciously, chewing it as she tries to think of how she's supposed to tell him. He's going to figure it out, but there's a cowardly little part of her brain that wants to just let it go and wait until then.

Pooch, seemingly unaware of the danger of the room, heads to the coffee maker, eyeing Cougar as she steals Jake's toast, too. "Shit, I haven't seen anyone eat like that since..." his idle words trail off and he blinks, stares at Cougar, then at Jensen.

She can't shoot Pooch, but she sort of wants to.

How can she really be this obvious?

"Y'know what, I'm going," Pooch says, jutting a finger to the door before he makes a daring escape.

Pooch is more or less ignored so that Jake can instead stare imploringly at the side of Cougar's head, wanting to reach out and push her riotous curls out of the way so he can see her, but too afraid to risk his hands lest she try to cut them off or something.

She seems pissed enough to try, and he wouldn't put anything past her.

After Pooch has beat his hasty escape, he can't keep quiet.

"What did I do?" he begs, seconds away from clasping his hands together and falling to his knees to get her to tell him what's wrong. "I'm sorry."

Both their toast finished, Cougar pushes the plate aside and slumps back in the chair, her stomach barely showing at all. It just looks like she's had a big meal and it's only that she's so lean and wiry that there is any hint of a bump. "You didn't do anything wrong," Cougar says, not wanting Jake to suffer like this. "Promise," she insists, giving him a long look.

She breathes out and doesn't know what to do. He deserves to know, but not here. "Come," she says. "Bedroom."

He doesn't notice her stomach yet, too busy staring at her face, wanting desperately to know what the matter is but not knowing how else to ask. He's asked, and she's refused to answer beyond confirming his fear that it was his fault, and now he doesn't know what to do.

It's almost enough to make him angry, but there's a cast to her face that shows that she's just as scared as he is, and that doesn't lend itself well to anger.

"Okay," he says, pushing up to his feet and wringing his hands together. He wants to help her up, but has a feeling that wouldn't really be appreciated, so he does nothing.

Cougar gets up, slings her rifle over her shoulder, and tucks the pistol back in the holster. Maybe with her hormones, it's not a good idea to be carrying this much heat, but at the same time, she's not giving them up, not now that her clock is running out of time. She lets her boots tramp heavily on the floor until they're back in their little shared bedroom, where Cougar lingers by the dresser, thumb brushing the candid photo of the two of them, grinning like idiots after Cougar won Jake the biggest prize at the carnival with her sharpshooting.

They could take the child there.

If there is a child.

The thought accosts her and though she hasn't considered it (she's a good Catholic girl, for the most part), it rears its head now. Standing, back to Jake, Cougar takes off her leather jacket and drapes it over the chair, pacing a little, anxiously. "I went to the doctor," she starts.

Carefully, Jake shuts the door behind them and stands in front of it, blocking her exit so she has to talk to him but also potentially giving himself one just in case she snaps or something. Not that he thinks she would but...

She's acting so weird. He's getting worried.

"Yeah, I know," he says slowly, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Oh god, you aren't sick are you? Are you dying? Is it cancer?"

She shakes her head, turning around to face Jake as she sits on the edge of the bed once she's disarmed, leaning down to pry off her boots so she can rub at sore feet. Sitting in the crawl space gets her away from everything, but it makes her ache.

"I'm pregnant." There, she said the words and in English, even. There's no chance that Jake won't be able to understand what's happening. She eyes him warily, hoping his legs don't give out on him.

For a second, he's pretty sure she's just fucked up the translation in her head, and she really means something else. But then he realizes that's a stupid thing to think, and he's right back to being stunned.

"...Pregnant?" His voice doesn't crack, but it's a near thing. He almost asks if she's sure, but she'd been to the doctor the night before, so of course she's sure.

Swallowing, he forces himself to focus. Don't fall down, Jake. Stay strong. "H-how far along?"

Cougar raises her brow very slowly when Jake reacts the way he does. She not entirely surprised, but it's a little disappointing when there's nothing but shock on his face. She had hopes that one of them might handle this properly. "Two months," she replies, hands on the bed so she can lean forward, shoulders rounded.

"It's yours," she adds, like that needs to be said.

"Of course it's mine." He might be completely blindsided, but that doesn't mean he thinks she's been sleeping around on him. And even if she had been sleeping around on him, she's smart enough to use a condom with strangers...

Oh, man. The condoms. She'd assured him she'd been on the pill, that it wasn't the right time of month for her to get pregnant...

Wow, he's an idiot.

Swallowing, he sidles a little closer and sinks to his knees in front of her, carefully reaching out to settle his hands on her knees, trying to catch her eye. "If you... if you don't want... I'll go to the doctor with you. If you want me to. If you don't want...it." It's unfair to ask her to carry this baby when he knows it's almost certainly going to mean the end of both their careers. He doesn't even know if she wants kids. Jake does, of course, but he's not the one carrying the little critter.

This is the problem. Cougar is a good Catholic girl, for the most part. Yes, the fucking outside marriage isn't good, but she's not a saint. Now, she's pregnant outside marriage and she's not sure whether she wants to keep it or not. She knows what happens if she does that, though. Yes, she keeps her career in the army, but she's going to lose Jake. He might say it won't matter, but it will. It will eat at them because he wants kids and she'll have taken that away.

And why? Because she's not ready now? She does want kids, someday, but she hadn't considered it possible, especially not after Bolivia, the sins of which she feels heavy on her back, still. "I don't know what to do," Cougar admits frankly.

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