Work Text:
The first time Walsh kissed Beaumont was neither planned nor romantic. It was the Precinct's annual Christmas party when they bumped into each other literally, him coming in, her going out, apologized, then got called out by Kowalski. (He was so going to get his partner back later.)
"You're under the mistletoe, Walsh. Kiss the woman!"
Walsh switched gears before it could get awkward and glanced at Beaumont for agreement.
She looked slightly off-guard but willing, so he kissed her.
It didn't mean anything, even if she was soft and warm and seemed to enjoy the two seconds they were touching, but then it was over and he went in and she went out.
"Yeah, well, I'd been wondering a while what it'd be like to kiss you," she comments with a wide, smug grin as she runs one hand up the back of his neck.
She's not gentle in bed most of the time. That doesn't bother him.
The second time Walsh kissed Beaumont, it was not at all planned, but at least it wasn't quite as perfunctory. In fact, it was when Beaumont had been complaining for the last twenty minutes about a guy who wouldn't take no for an answer, and the guy showed up to bother her again.
She'd just been written up for taking someone down physically—they called her 'Uncle' Beaumont for a reason—so he didn't let her bust the guys chops like she was itching to do.
He leaned over and kissed her. It wasn't brief, though it still didn't mean anything. It was hot and sweet and tasted of coffee and too much sugar on her donuts and a lot of things he wanted more of.
She drew back, slightly surprised, somewhat speculative look on her face, and neither of them paid a whole lot of attention to the guy leaving.
She traces her hand over his shoulders and asks, "So is that when you fell for me?"
"Not really." He shrugs, all easy Jason and that impenetrable detachment that annoyed her so much before he let her see under the mask, then he grins and pulls her down to kiss her hungrily.
They lost count a long time ago.
He kissed her again under the mistletoe, right after she called him Jason and right before they went into the opera house where she wanted to enjoy herself in style for once in way too long.
It was better than the other ones because this one was planned and wasn't brief and did mean something.
They lost count that night after the opera when he lied and said he liked the opera, and she lied and said she didn't have any plans when he asked her back to his place. Of course, she had plans. He was just playing right along with them.
"You see," Jason says with a grin. "The mistletoe stays."
"It's in the d— doorway," Allison protests. "I've seen you walk in with Shraeger."
"I'll walk in behind her. But the mistletoe stays." He looks smug because he knows he's won.
She uses her teeth and tongue to wipe the smugness off his face.
