Title: Practice Makes Perfect
Written for: LiveJournal community prompt_in_a_box: Round #13
Prompt #15: "Practice Makes Perfect"
Warnings: Ummm...here be fluffy plot bunnies??
Timeline: Post-series finale.
Author's Note: Stand alone; no relation to any other story that has been completed or is currently in progress.
Disclaimer: I don't own Jericho or have any relationship with it other than a deep abiding love for the show, and a burning desire to see Beck out of uniform.

It wasn't until she kissed him that he even knew they were on a date.

They had been working at the sheriff's office, and hadn't finished, so Heather invited Beck to her house for a working supper. She cooked, they ate, and Beck's mind worked on two tracks the whole time. One was focused solely on work; the other focused solely on her.

They finished supper, finished working, and they moved to the couch to drink a cup of carefully hoarded coffee – more precious than wine nowadays, he thought, making a mental note to see what his men could do to replenish her supply – and to talk about other, more personal things. Things like amusing stories from their lives from before the Attacks – his army experiences, her teaching experiences. They touched lightly on the loss of his wife and child, while she told him about losing her own family at a young age and growing up in New Bern.

When he got up to leave, she walked him to the door where he thanked her for the meal as he picked up one of his boots.

"No problem," she replied with a rueful grin, "it was nice to have somebody to share it with for a change."

He paused, and gave her a puzzled look.

"I don't get out much," she explained, her voice dry, "and I honestly can't remember the last time I had supper alone with a man."

Beck gaped at her. "Are the men in this town blind as well as stupid?" he blurted.

Which was when she hurled herself into his arms, mashing her lips against his. The force of her kiss caught him off-guard, made him drop his boot and stumble back against the door of the closet – with the doorknob hitting him right in the small of his back. Really, though, he thought, what was a bruised kidney – or two – when he had an armful of Heather?

He had to take full responsibility for the coffee table, however. He thought he'd been guiding them towards the hallway, but he hadn't wanted to stop kissing her long enough to get his bearings. Apparently, neither had she, because judging from her expression, tripping over the coffee table had been as much of a surprise to her as it had been to him. Unfortunately, the coffee table couldn't withstand their sudden arrival and collapsed under them. Luckily, Beck went down first, and Heather landed on top of him with a shocked "oof".

Really, though, Beck thought, what was a bruised ass when he had Heather sprawled on top of him looking both mortified and utterly adorable? He quickly went back to his new favourite pastime of kissing her senseless.

He insisted the couch was Heather's fault, however. She should have warned him it was too light for the two of them to do anything other than sit quietly and drink coffee. By this point, they were both half-naked and were feverishly attempting to get all-the-way-naked when he hit a particularly sensitive part of her neck, which caused her to buck up hard against him, which in turned caused the couch to topple over, spilling them both unceremoniously onto the carpet.

Really, though, Beck thought, what was a bruised shoulder – or two – when he had a half-naked Heather beneath him?

"You know," she panted, "I have a perfectly good – and solid – bed just down the hall."

They both turned their heads and looked down the hallway. They silently made note of the side table, the bicycle and the two storage closets.

"We'll never make it in one piece," Beck said shaking his head. "I think we need to stay right here, in a horizontal position. For safety reasons, of course."

Heather chuckled and indicated her agreement by kissing him again.

Beck was limping slightly when they came out of the bathroom in the morning. She had a shower, he was happy – and relieved - to learn, which could withstand early morning shower sex without any catastrophic structural failures. They paused on the way to the kitchen and surveyed the carnage left in the living room.

Heather glanced at him and started to laugh. "Well, they say the first time is always the most awkward."

Beck nodded, and grinned down at her. "Let's hope our navigation skills get better with practice," he replied and kissed her.