Never A Quiet Day When You Need One
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"Fargo is here for my monthly maintenance, Sheriff," said SARAH, her voice warm and pleasant as always. "Shall I let him in?"

Jack sighed, staring down at the pile of paperwork left over from yesterday's disaster, yet another scientific mishap in which he'd nearly lost his life saving Fargo's. "Sure, just don't let him break you again."

"Of course not, Sheriff," she replied, and he heard the door swing open.

A few hours later, the paperwork done and scanned off to Global Dynamics and the smell of dinner tantalizing his empty stomach, Jack looked up to find Fargo fiddling around in the kitchen. "Wait, did you cook that?" he asked, staring at the meal slowly taking shape on the counter.

"Of course," said Fargo. "Where do you think SARAH learned?"

Jack was about to offer a compliment when his phone rang, and he left to figure out if the sudden spate of missing eighth graders was conspiracy, accident, or just a bunch of kids playing hookey.

"Coffee, please," said Jack, sitting on one of the stools at the cafe.

Fargo came in and sat next to him, grinning as usual. "SARAH tells me you enjoyed the leftovers," he said, accepting the meal Vincent set down in front of him with a quiet thanks.

"Thanks for the coffee," said Jack, taking one heavenly sip before he turned to Fargo. "It was really good, and she tells me you updated her recipe database, too."

"I think she's got a crush on that science guy from Food Network," said Fargo conspiratorially, "But not all of his techniques will work within her limitations, so we worked out some compromises." He opened his mouth as if to say something more, but when Jack's phone rang, a bite of his lunch made its way inside instead.

"Sorry, gotta run, the new fuel cell at Henry's is making, um, bad things."

Jack could have sworn he heard Fargo sigh as he grabbed his coffee -- thankfully already in a to-go cup -- and ran.

At the lab, Fargo's desk was sporting a new feature -- a plate of cookies kept warm through some of the technological magic that made life in Eureka so interesting. "Want one?" asked Fargo, coming up behind Jack and making him start.

"Um... Yes?" said Jack, not sure if there was a trick here or not.

Fargo offered him a cookie, soft and gooey and just the perfect texture. "Wow," said Jack, mouth still full of deliciousness. "Are these mint chocolate chips?"

"I've been working on the mixture, do you think the mint's still too subtle?" asked Fargo solicitously.

Jack shook his head and ate the last bite, closing his eyes in bliss. "Best part of my day so far," he said, though he did swallow first this time.

"Well, if you wanted..." began Fargo.

"There you are," interrupted Allison. "Lured in by Fargo's cookies, I see. He pestered Vincent for a month to get him to help with the recipe, something about mint levels."

"They're delicious now," said Jack. "Too bad GD won't pay him to bake the perfect chocolate mint chip cookie, instead of engineering nuclear penguins with digestive issues."

"Speaking of what GD pays for," said Allison, gesturing for him to precede her into her office.

Jack went, but not before snagging another cookie.

Jack was tired, covered in sweat and concrete dust and something that was probably not actually radioactive particles no matter what Stark said, and all he wanted was a shower, a beer, and bed.

"It's good to see you home, Sheriff," said SARAH cheerfully. "I'll start the shower, and then you can join Fargo for dinner."

"Why's Fargo here?" asked Jack, already shirtless and working on his belt, though he wouldn't take off anything more until he knew Zoe wasn't lingering around to complain.

Fargo appeared around the corner wearing a barbeque apron and an uncharacteristically shy grin. "You liked my food, so I thought, well, I never had the chance to ask, and when I heard you were trapped in Section 4... I wanted to make you dinner."

It was almost cute.

"Don't expect intelligent conversation," said Jack exhaustedly, though in truth the idea of more of Fargo's cooking was enough to perk him up more than was probably good for him.

"We never do," said SARAH tartly. Jack ignored her.

"I'll finish up, you go get cleaned up," said Fargo, eyes flicking over Jack's dusty, half-naked form in a manner Jack would have considered sizing him up, if it wasn't Fargo.

Jack grunted and headed upstairs, washing away the grime as fast a he could manage and putting on the clothes SARAH laid out for him without much further thought. He was already halfway downstairs when the caress of silk over parts of him that didn't usually get much caressing caught his attention. "Um, SARAH?" he said, hoping Fargo couldn't hear.

"Yes, Sheriff?" she asked, and then added, "You look very fetching in that shirt. It brings out your eyes."

"Since when do I own silk boxers? Or this shirt?" asked Jack, looking down at the way the soft blue cotton molded to his chest, and the tightness of his jeans below. "Did you shrink the wash?"

"No, of course not," said SARAH, sounding offended. "I just thought you might enjoy a change, since you're eating with Douglas."

"Since when do you call him Douglas?" asked Jack suspiciously.

"Since I asked her to, Jack," said Fargo from the bottom of the stairs. "Are you coming all the way down, or should I bring a plate up to you?"

Jack blushed. "Sorry, I'm just not used to having a house that makes decisions for me," he said, coming down the stairs.

"Nothing wrong with silk boxers," said Fargo, giving his hips a little shimmy that made Jack blink and think very bad things about the persistent feeling of smooth fabric currently sliding over his private parts.

"Fargo," said Jack.

"Call me Douglas, Jack, we're not working now," said Fargo, adding under his breath, "for once."

"Douglas," said Jack, looking around the dining room, which seemed to have acquired mood lighting in the form of flickering LED candles. "You do know I'm straight, right? You know, with my daughter and all."

"Straight doesn't always have to mean narrow, Jack," said Fargo, sitting down and gesturing toward the food. "Go on, eat."

Jack wanted to argue, but instead he served himself from the various platters, which gave Fargo plenty of time to prattle on.

"You know the Kinsey scale suggests that very few people are actually fully at either end of the scale, but in fact most end up at the center of the bell curve," he said, serving himself from each dish as Jack put it down. "Society pushes us toward one end of the scale, but in reality if we look inside ourselves, there's more going on than we'd always like to admit." He paused and took a sip of his wine. "There's cookies for dessert."

Jack blinked, and then laughed, looking down at the perfectly prepared pot roast and vegetables, boringly delicious food made just to his tastes in a town full of exoticness. "The way to a man's heart, huh?" said Jack, digging in and taking a bite of beef that practically melted in his mouth.

Fargo shrugged, cheeks finally turning just a bit pink. "You have to admit it was worth a try," he said, sipping his wine again.

Jack thought about everything Fargo had done in his crusade, and couldn't remember ever having a woman work so hard for his attention. "Don't you mean 'is worth a try'?" said Jack lightly, heart hammering in his chest at the thought of it. Fargo was small, lithe, and his body might look pretty damned good once the geeky glasses and clothes were off and his pale skin was silhouetted against Jack's sheets.

Fargo's head snapped up and he grinned wider even than when he'd been promoted to Allison's assistant. "You mean it?"

Jack took another bite, this time of mashed potato slathered in a delicious, savory beef gravy. "Yeah," he said, licking his lips. "I think I do."

Title: Never A Quiet Day When You Need One
Fandom: Eureka
Pairing: Douglas Fargo/Jack Carter
Rating: PG
Warnings: Slash
Summary: The way to a man's heart is through his stomach, or so Fargo hopes.
Acknowledgements: Thanks to adbaculum for the very last-minute beta. A Yuletide Treat for Bee.

All of the works contained herein are labours of love, unauthorized by those who hold the rights to such things, and no profit is made from them. No harm is meant, and hopefully no offense given.