[ frank nods at the thanks, knowing she still needs rest but that if he had let her sleep she wouldn't have gotten it anyway. he takes a long sip of coffee, seeming to give up on his food a bite into the second half. he's tired, too. but he's always tired. her being here helps. ]
Do you want to take a shower? [ he asks after a long beat, not sure how she'll take it. in an ideal world, she'd offer him to accompany her, but it's far from that especially for them. he'd be content with taking turns as long as whatever it is helps in some marginal way. because she's right, he's thrilled that he helped her, even if it's tiny as far as impact goes and more ephemeral than that. he doesn't care, he knows how much of a difference even one second of happiness can make. ]
[ willfully misinterpreting that as a jab at her natural sweat-soaked, liquor-speckled aroma, Jess's eyebrows peak briefly. ] Subtle.
[ normally, she might like to chance it in there with him but she doesn't feel any cleaner than she probably smells. Jess leans off the wall, sitting up semi-straight and then pushing herself to her feet with the table's assist. encroaching is the paranoid warning that if she leaves the room, she'll return to find him dead and strung up bloody to teach her a lesson. Jess convinces herself not to listen to that voice, using the logic that she doesn't have that fear when he walks out (and then under that -- "but maybe you should"). en route to the bathroom, she glances towards the window and dredges slight reassurance from the white-out on the other side.
[ he snorts, shaking his head. frank doesn't bother correcting the record, enjoying when they cross wires almost as much as when they're in sync (which is so little of the time anyway it almost shouldn't be mentioned.) towels are in the closet so he's sure she'll find one, getting up to refill his mug for something to do while she's in there.
after a few minutes, he hears the water and he meanders out to the living room, knowing a tested way to pass the time. frank pulls down his guitar and sits on the couch, his coffee set in front of him on the table as he plucks away at a song. something that sounds remarkably similar to dream a little dream of me. ]
are you ready to take this to turbo cute because it's boyfriend shirt time
[ she's astounded it doesn't take longer for the water to heat up. peeled out of her clothes, Jess ducks into the spray and yanks the curtain shut. once her hair is damp to the roots, she tips her head back and lets the water beat against her face. the shower head's pressure is softer than hers at home; more forgiving by any degree. she could linger there if not for how fast she tires from standing.
Jess finds his soap and lathers it in her hands, scrubbing her palms over her skin and scalp. while she's rinsing bubbles from the small of her back, where she's collected the ends of her hair, the plunk of of guitar string filters through the drip drops of water; then the plinks, until a recognizable melody arranges itself through the wall and in her head.
almost done with the shower, she pauses and puts her shoulder to the tile wall, followed by her temple, and listens to the watery, broken song she ends up with. like this, it's bearable to hear him play, and he can't be too bad because he hasn't missed a note, as far as she can tell, but she's an idiot about these things, and proud of it too. whenever she last heard the song, and she must have, it might have been a happier time. as a kid. Jess stops trying to remember and listens to the present, hoping to etch it in her mind so firmly that absinthe won't erode it.
to stay in there too long would be telling or, worse, concerning, so Jess shuts off the water and towels off well before he can finish the tune. soaking the water from her hair and then tucking the damply splotched towel around her chest, she piles her clothes into her arms and pulls the door open. she can grab her boots later, after he's showered, or later, the nebulous version. Jess steps barefoot into the main room with a seemingly offhand comment locked and loaded ]
[ focusing on the song to say nothing of the actual noise of it keeps him from listening for every movement she makes. she's survived over thirty years without him listening to her shower, he thinks she can manage another twenty minutes. he turns himself off and gives into the music. he isn't thinking about teaching lisa to play or even micro's reaction the first time he played for him either. he's thinking of jessica jones, in all of her many iterations. the jessica who asked him how he slept, the jessica who told him to go home, the jessica who told him she wanted this. and finally, mercifully, the jessica who had laid in his arms miserable and hungover and told him to wake her up before the nightmares claimed them both.
he's so swept up, he doesn't register the sound of the door until she's there. he gives one last strum and thwaps the flat of his hand against the soundhole in finality. first john mayer, now jack johnson. well, as long as he's touring in all 50 states, right? ] I always thought I was more of an Axel Rose.
[ he shrugs, getting up to put the taylor away since she had all but forbidden him from serenading her last time. and he really does want that shower now, feeling the greasy morning settle over him in a film. he also wants to get outside at some point... but the weather isn't letting up yet so he'll have plenty of time for that later probably.
frank digs through his clothes for fresh jeans, underwear and a t-shirt before grabbing up his coffee and making his way through her. his gaze flits over her damp image, another one of those impossibly soft looks legible across his face. he ducks his head and smiles as he passes her, just barely resisting the urge to lean in for a kiss. he thinks if he starts kissing her, his shower might never happen.
he slips into the bathroom and toes the door closed, taking a long drink and throwing his stuff on the top of the toilet tank, not trusting the lid yet until he gets in here to clean. he turns the water to scalding and gets himself a towel, not hesitating to strip out of his clothes and climb under the spray with the temperature still rising. expedient as ever, frank runs the soap cursorily over his body and hair, hitting his face briefly with a razor before leaning in to just soak up some of the heat. as much as he might otherwise be tempted to linger, the thought of jessica in his apartment at large waiting for him is enough of a reason to be quick.
the whole thing takes barely fifteen minutes and then he's stumbling out to grab his towel, the water finally loosening up his joints from the way they'd been locked overnight. drying himself without much worry for accuracy he puts on his fresh clothes: bluer jeans over boxer briefs and a plain black t-shirt, giving himself a sigh in the steamed over mirror as he makes the effort to brush his teeth and wash his face with more than just bar soap. he hangs up his towel and throws his clothes in the tiny hamper by the closet before wobbling his way out into the much cooler apartment, steam following behind him like an effect, to find out with no shortage of curiosity where jess had ended up. ]
Edited (i literally just need to be banned from pronouns) 2018-01-17 06:41 (UTC)
[ Jess tosses her clothes to the couch and pulls the towel off, using it to squeeze the last drops of water from her hair and then laying it down near her stuff. the moderate temperature of the room has raised gooseflesh from shoulders to toes; Jess sorts through her shirt, turning it right side out, and then smells it and, yeesh, should've done that first. it stinks of sweat. that it could be significantly worse hardly talks her into putting it back on.
after putting on her underwear, she goes to rifle through his clothes instead. he has the same penchant for long-sleeve t-shirts with a Henley tag and it takes her no time to find his grey one and pull it on. at least two sizes too large, it skims the tops of her thighs, with the sleeves almost swallowing her thumbs. Jess takes a break in dressing, having a seat on his bed. her brain must be tricking her into thinking she's more comfortable than she can objectively be; not a full minute passes before she relents to crawling onto her side and setting her head down on the blanket. then, she might as well go all in, so she shuts her eyes and listens to the falling water on the other side of the wall. eventually, she reels her legs up from the floor.
there's no chance she'll fall asleep. he won't let her, for one, but it's the liquor bottle on the floor that's sustaining her internal motivation. in another second or two, she'll get up and go grab it. or three. four more. the water shuts off, okay, before he gets out, then. the door opens and his footfalls call the expiration of that deadline too. well, it's not going anywhere. ]
I'm not sleeping. [ just lazy, proven by not bothering to open her eyes or move a muscle. ]
[ he expects to see her on the couch or even slouched back on the floor next to the bottle he'd left by the front doorway, but when his eyes find her neither place his pulse begins to pick up. where is she? what if-- her voice breaks through the nonsense, and his gaze finally settles on her, palpable relief settling over him like a shield. frank makes his way to her in quick strides, just as astounded by her ability to relax into his space. grateful, too. she looks almost sweet, curled up on his blanket like a lazy cat. ...is that his shirt? frank crouches down next to the mattress, tracing her features with his eyes as if committing them to memory all over again. ]
Time for Nap 2? [ he suggests in a murmur, realizing his mistake almost instantly. hey sleepyhead... there's plenty of time now that you're home. frank swallows, trying to shake himself from the dream, but it's gripping him. it shouldn't have this power over him when he isn't even asleep. he feels hot blood splatter his face and he's reaching out, getting a grip on jessica's arm to prove to himself she's alive. his heart pounds like hoofbeats on pavement as he lays himself down next to her, leaning in until their foreheads press. he doesn't dare shut his eyes for what he'll see behind them. ]
[ she tracks him through the room with just her ears, listening to him step closer and kneel next to her with the soft grind of denim. then she can hear his breath, feel a wisp of it at the tip of her nose. she hears it change, too, and the effortlessness of staying still starts to seep from her. nonetheless, she remains there and he deprives her of the time needed to form any expectations or fret over a dearth thereof by slipping in a second later. ]
Did you even sleep? [ blindly, she reaches forward until she's touching him. his chest. with gentle probing from her fingertips along the crease of muscle at the centre, she hits upon his collar and then his skin, to which heat from the shower still clings. her lips relax into the bed of a smile. he missed her, obviously, so it's not as bad as it could be, admitting to herself that she missed him in kind: too strongly, unjustifiably, and in defiance of all precautions. ]
[ the second she's touching him, things right themselves, his hand running over the fabric of the sleeve of the shirt she stole from him, and leaning in to press their bodies even a little tighter together. her question is a loaded one, for so many reasons, but as ever the words slip out before he decides if he should soften them. ] Not really. [ he doesn't seem to mind much, especially as his other hand shifts to trace her side. ]
[ it helps put her back at ease, too, being accepted into his hands. his answer is what she knew it would be. ]
Guard dog. [ she teases him, stringing a smirk along both words. this can be the one exception to her rejection of his pro-bono protection services. the whole of her hand comes to lie against his throat, her thumb searching in small, sloppy circles for the vein carrying his pulse. when she finds it, she opens her eyes to mark the spot. she wants to kiss him there, when he wants her to. ]
Just this once. [ he lies smoothly, as if reading her thoughts. his breathing stutters when her thumb finds his pulse-point, anticipation building under his skin. frank's eyes flutter open too, long eyelashes kissing her face as he pulls back just far enough to read her expression. ]
[ tired. tired like she always is, lifting her gaze at pace with her hand, lazily pushing over his hair. she lets the tips of it tickle her fingers, looking into his eyes despite a dull thud of dread from behind her heart. he better be content that she doesn't know what to say because for once she doesn't know how far she wants this to go, just that the complete stop got less bearable by the day. to tell him would sound too much like an apology for staying away and Jess can't apologize for behaviour she's likely to repeat sooner or later. he can't promise to tolerate it forever, either. maybe one day, he'll smarten up. she never considers that she might change as anything other than a distant fantasy. normal shit.
Jess wants to kiss him, wherever it leads. he has signs of her intent and chances to stop her, as she lifts her head and reclaims the space between them, nudging his nose, and then brushing her lips across his. ]
[ frank definitely isn't looking for any type of apology, and he's certainly not trying to rush into anything. they're both hopelessly broken, but as he'd said last night, was it really so terrible to seak comfort in someone who understood? someone they didn't have to pretend for. the kiss is more welcome than words could ever be, and he sinks into it like a drowning man, one large hand coming up to cup her face.
just as before, this is the only time where the comparisons float away and he's left with them. he and jess and whatever is between them. it doesn't matter how far they take this, today, now; or even in the long run. as long as frank gets to keep her for as long as he can, he convinces himself he'll be content. maybe even happy again, for a short time. she tastes much less like whiskey and much more like that unidentified seasoning that is only her. he deepens the kiss just to get more of her on his tongue, needing thoughts of her to surround him now to accompany the feelings. ]
[ the coffee flavour in his mouth is just light enough not to make her sick. it were gone entirely, she's sure she would resent its absence. it's a part of him, like the concrete dust under his fingernails before he showers or the effigy hidden among his belongings.
Jess eases him to his back by smothering his chest with hers to lie on top of him. she lets him delve up with his tongue, hers guiding unconcernedly. her arm laid over him and crooked beside his head, she scrapes the flat backs of her nails through the roots of hair at the top of his scalp. his warmth seeps into her all the way down to her bare legs, loosely spread along one of his. the disparity of their dress doesn't bother her; she likes the gritty, functional fabrics he wears. fuck silk and have it tell satin to suck it too. ]
[ he goes easily, proving that he likes this arrangement quite a bit. maybe that's why he'd asked her in that proverbial text that broke the camel's back. not because he thought he'd figured her out, but because this is his own predictable folly. strong, fierce women who might like to push a man like him around now and then. and what's the harm in that really? his fingers dig into her lower back, leg angling up to slot alongside hers and make their lower bodies fit even snugger.
the scrape against his scalp looses a moan into the confines of their joined mouths, his eyes pressed tightly closed now. the snow and his nightmares easily fall away with the promise of more contact, his skin already heating up under her in a telltale sign that this could quickly escalate. but he doesn't want it to, not yet. he loves how easy and perfect this feels, a lazy morning suspended between their lips. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Do you want to take a shower? [ he asks after a long beat, not sure how she'll take it. in an ideal world, she'd offer him to accompany her, but it's far from that especially for them. he'd be content with taking turns as long as whatever it is helps in some marginal way. because she's right, he's thrilled that he helped her, even if it's tiny as far as impact goes and more ephemeral than that. he doesn't care, he knows how much of a difference even one second of happiness can make. ]
no subject
[ normally, she might like to chance it in there with him but she doesn't feel any cleaner than she probably smells. Jess leans off the wall, sitting up semi-straight and then pushing herself to her feet with the table's assist. encroaching is the paranoid warning that if she leaves the room, she'll return to find him dead and strung up bloody to teach her a lesson. Jess convinces herself not to listen to that voice, using the logic that she doesn't have that fear when he walks out (and then under that -- "but maybe you should"). en route to the bathroom, she glances towards the window and dredges slight reassurance from the white-out on the other side.
who ever got murdered in a blizzard? ]
no subject
after a few minutes, he hears the water and he meanders out to the living room, knowing a tested way to pass the time. frank pulls down his guitar and sits on the couch, his coffee set in front of him on the table as he plucks away at a song. something that sounds remarkably similar to dream a little dream of me. ]
are you ready to take this to turbo cute because it's boyfriend shirt time
Jess finds his soap and lathers it in her hands, scrubbing her palms over her skin and scalp. while she's rinsing bubbles from the small of her back, where she's collected the ends of her hair, the plunk of of guitar string filters through the drip drops of water; then the plinks, until a recognizable melody arranges itself through the wall and in her head.
almost done with the shower, she pauses and puts her shoulder to the tile wall, followed by her temple, and listens to the watery, broken song she ends up with. like this, it's bearable to hear him play, and he can't be too bad because he hasn't missed a note, as far as she can tell, but she's an idiot about these things, and proud of it too. whenever she last heard the song, and she must have, it might have been a happier time. as a kid. Jess stops trying to remember and listens to the present, hoping to etch it in her mind so firmly that absinthe won't erode it.
to stay in there too long would be telling or, worse, concerning, so Jess shuts off the water and towels off well before he can finish the tune. soaking the water from her hair and then tucking the damply splotched towel around her chest, she piles her clothes into her arms and pulls the door open. she can grab her boots later, after he's showered, or later, the nebulous version. Jess steps barefoot into the main room with a seemingly offhand comment locked and loaded ]
All yours, Jack Johnson.
um HALE YEA who do you take me for huh
he's so swept up, he doesn't register the sound of the door until she's there. he gives one last strum and thwaps the flat of his hand against the soundhole in finality. first john mayer, now jack johnson. well, as long as he's touring in all 50 states, right? ] I always thought I was more of an Axel Rose.
[ he shrugs, getting up to put the taylor away since she had all but forbidden him from serenading her last time. and he really does want that shower now, feeling the greasy morning settle over him in a film. he also wants to get outside at some point... but the weather isn't letting up yet so he'll have plenty of time for that later probably.
frank digs through his clothes for fresh jeans, underwear and a t-shirt before grabbing up his coffee and making his way through her. his gaze flits over her damp image, another one of those impossibly soft looks legible across his face. he ducks his head and smiles as he passes her, just barely resisting the urge to lean in for a kiss. he thinks if he starts kissing her, his shower might never happen.
he slips into the bathroom and toes the door closed, taking a long drink and throwing his stuff on the top of the toilet tank, not trusting the lid yet until he gets in here to clean. he turns the water to scalding and gets himself a towel, not hesitating to strip out of his clothes and climb under the spray with the temperature still rising. expedient as ever, frank runs the soap cursorily over his body and hair, hitting his face briefly with a razor before leaning in to just soak up some of the heat. as much as he might otherwise be tempted to linger, the thought of jessica in his apartment at large waiting for him is enough of a reason to be quick.
the whole thing takes barely fifteen minutes and then he's stumbling out to grab his towel, the water finally loosening up his joints from the way they'd been locked overnight. drying himself without much worry for accuracy he puts on his fresh clothes: bluer jeans over boxer briefs and a plain black t-shirt, giving himself a sigh in the steamed over mirror as he makes the effort to brush his teeth and wash his face with more than just bar soap. he hangs up his towel and throws his clothes in the tiny hamper by the closet before wobbling his way out into the much cooler apartment, steam following behind him like an effect, to find out with no shortage of curiosity where jess had ended up. ]
no subject
after putting on her underwear, she goes to rifle through his clothes instead. he has the same penchant for long-sleeve t-shirts with a Henley tag and it takes her no time to find his grey one and pull it on. at least two sizes too large, it skims the tops of her thighs, with the sleeves almost swallowing her thumbs. Jess takes a break in dressing, having a seat on his bed. her brain must be tricking her into thinking she's more comfortable than she can objectively be; not a full minute passes before she relents to crawling onto her side and setting her head down on the blanket. then, she might as well go all in, so she shuts her eyes and listens to the falling water on the other side of the wall. eventually, she reels her legs up from the floor.
there's no chance she'll fall asleep. he won't let her, for one, but it's the liquor bottle on the floor that's sustaining her internal motivation. in another second or two, she'll get up and go grab it. or three. four more. the water shuts off, okay, before he gets out, then. the door opens and his footfalls call the expiration of that deadline too. well, it's not going anywhere. ]
I'm not sleeping. [ just lazy, proven by not bothering to open her eyes or move a muscle. ]
no subject
Time for Nap 2? [ he suggests in a murmur, realizing his mistake almost instantly. hey sleepyhead... there's plenty of time now that you're home. frank swallows, trying to shake himself from the dream, but it's gripping him. it shouldn't have this power over him when he isn't even asleep. he feels hot blood splatter his face and he's reaching out, getting a grip on jessica's arm to prove to himself she's alive. his heart pounds like hoofbeats on pavement as he lays himself down next to her, leaning in until their foreheads press. he doesn't dare shut his eyes for what he'll see behind them. ]
no subject
Did you even sleep? [ blindly, she reaches forward until she's touching him. his chest. with gentle probing from her fingertips along the crease of muscle at the centre, she hits upon his collar and then his skin, to which heat from the shower still clings. her lips relax into the bed of a smile. he missed her, obviously, so it's not as bad as it could be, admitting to herself that she missed him in kind: too strongly, unjustifiably, and in defiance of all precautions. ]
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Guard dog. [ she teases him, stringing a smirk along both words. this can be the one exception to her rejection of his pro-bono protection services. the whole of her hand comes to lie against his throat, her thumb searching in small, sloppy circles for the vein carrying his pulse. when she finds it, she opens her eyes to mark the spot. she wants to kiss him there, when he wants her to. ]
no subject
no subject
Jess wants to kiss him, wherever it leads. he has signs of her intent and chances to stop her, as she lifts her head and reclaims the space between them, nudging his nose, and then brushing her lips across his. ]
no subject
just as before, this is the only time where the comparisons float away and he's left with them. he and jess and whatever is between them. it doesn't matter how far they take this, today, now; or even in the long run. as long as frank gets to keep her for as long as he can, he convinces himself he'll be content. maybe even happy again, for a short time. she tastes much less like whiskey and much more like that unidentified seasoning that is only her. he deepens the kiss just to get more of her on his tongue, needing thoughts of her to surround him now to accompany the feelings. ]
no subject
Jess eases him to his back by smothering his chest with hers to lie on top of him. she lets him delve up with his tongue, hers guiding unconcernedly. her arm laid over him and crooked beside his head, she scrapes the flat backs of her nails through the roots of hair at the top of his scalp. his warmth seeps into her all the way down to her bare legs, loosely spread along one of his. the disparity of their dress doesn't bother her; she likes the gritty, functional fabrics he wears. fuck silk and have it tell satin to suck it too. ]
no subject
the scrape against his scalp looses a moan into the confines of their joined mouths, his eyes pressed tightly closed now. the snow and his nightmares easily fall away with the promise of more contact, his skin already heating up under her in a telltale sign that this could quickly escalate. but he doesn't want it to, not yet. he loves how easy and perfect this feels, a lazy morning suspended between their lips. ]