A short fic written based on an admiration of Jack and an interest in putting him in a situation where he's not perfectly dressed.

Just for fun.

She pauses inside the doorway, half hidden by a punching bag, to watch him.

His muscles bunch and stretch under the weight he lifts. A sheen of sweat coats his skin and slicks back his hair. Stripped down to trousers and a white cotton singlet, every line of his hard body is visible to her eyes.

Lying on the leather bench in the Policemen's Union Clubhouse gymnasium, Jack continues to raise and lower the barbell, unaware that Phryne is watching his every move. The muscles of his arms, usually hidden beneath the proper layers of shirt and suit, catch her attention before her gaze drifts down to his torso. Jack is slim but strong – the wiry muscle of a man who really works for a living.

Phryne darts back into the shadows behind the punching bag as Jack sets the barbell back on its stand and sits up. Apparently he is still unaware that he is no longer alone, because he takes a moment to stretch (his braces are hanging loose from his trousers and the hem of his singlet untucks from his waistband on one side, revealing a sliver of skin to Phryne's view) before taking up position on the floor and beginning a set of sit ups.

Phryne peers around the gymnasium's equipment and bites her lip at the sight that greets her. Slipping between a pair of pommel horses, she sneaks closer to the object of her perusal. A shiver runs through her body as she considers the power of Jack's body and the way he moves with such clear purpose and control.

She had not come here with the intention of spying on the Inspector – far from it. Hugh had visited Dot earlier in the day and had admitted, under Phryne's careful questioning, that his superior had spent the last few evenings at the Clubhouse after hours before returning to the Station to work late into the night. Concerned, Phryne had resolved to seek the Inspector out - armed with a basket of his favourite sandwiches, a thermos of tea and a flask of something stronger - and discover the reason for his new routine. Gaining entry to the closed Clubhouse had been the work of a few minutes with a set of picks and she had followed the interior lights in the hope of finding Jack.

But all her plans had been forgotten the moment she saw a sweat-sheened half-dressed Inspector Robinson alone in the basement gymnasium. Phryne was no stranger to good looking men, but to see the usually staid and reserved Inspector relaxed and…available…like this was more than a little arousing.

Taking a step closer, Phryne freezes when Jack abruptly stops his sit ups. She watches his profile, letting out the breath she is holding only when he turns and rests on his palms and toes. When Jack starts raising and lowering his body in perfectly controlled push ups, Phryne gasps silently at the way her body responds to the visual.

This is getting ridiculous.

She has just about made up her mind to step forward and announce her presence when Jack sighs and sits back on his haunches. Smoothly he rises to his feet and walks towards the shower room, tugging off his singlet and unbuttoning his trousers as he goes.

That's it. The temptation is too much to bear, so Phryne slowly retraces her steps out of the gymnasium as the sound of the shower running fills her ears.

When Jack emerges clean and fully dressed fifteen minutes later, he finds Phryne sitting primly on a bench in the upstairs hallway, a picnic basket on her lap.

"Miss Fisher! What are you doing here?"

"Hugh stopped by and mentioned that you might be here. I was concerned. You haven't been by for dinner or a nightcap for over a week."

Jack sits down beside her. "I wasn't sure if I was welcome when we're not on a case together."

She shoots him a glance that says he's being ridiculous. "You're always welcome. Always. But just in case you weren't in the mood for dinner at an actual table, I brought you something." She pulls back the corner of the cloth covering the basket and Jack smiles to see the meal thoughtfully prepared by Dot.

"Perhaps you'll join me for a picnic in the tuckshop?" Jack's smile is warm as he stands and holds out his hand to help her up.

Phryne accepts his offer with a grin and lets Jack lead her through the building, her arm looped with his.

Temptations can wait for another day.

Author's Note: For those of you not in the UK/NZ/parts of Australia and the rest of the Commonwealth, a tuckshop is a place where food, drinks and snacks are sold at a club or school. The word is related to 'tucker' (meaning "food"). Some club tuckshops have tables and bench seats nearby for customers to sit.