Fics like time well spent

Alcohol has made them lax and loose and Jack slings an arm over Sam’s bare shoulder and tugs her against his side, nosing at her temple. Her arm slips easily around his waist and she turns her face up to him, eyes bright and glassy. “You’re tipsy,” she accuses with a grin, squeezing his hip. They’d both been caught up in dodging brown-nosing politicians and trying to catch the other’s eye over their glasses of champagne and then, later, the few glasses of scotch that had been passed around. It wasn’t until Sam reached out to adjust Jack’s bowtie while Woolsey rambled on, fingers brushing tantalizingly over the curve of his Adam’s apple, that they made a hasty exit. Jack’s eyes had gone dark, he’d excused them both—his fingers wrapped around her wrist and tugging her towards the exit, glaring at her smirk and flushed cheeks—and they had stepped out into the cool night air.

Fics like time well spent

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