[ he frowns even though he's happy -- to see her finally let go. he more than willingly lets her slump against him, his arm not being pinned by her body coming up to hold the back of her head where it is. frank closes his eyes for a moment, taking comfort in the blank darkness behind them. ] I don't want you to be someone else. I just want you to be here. [ with me. not just physically, but mentally present whatever that means. if either of them are even fully capable of that. ]
[ he's happy too to finally have a mention of the shitbag who hurt her in less abstract description. they both were dismantled by assholes, but that doesn't mean they have to be alone. maybe it means... they should come together, because no one else gets how fucked up it feels. ]
Can I put you to bed now? [ an incredibly gentle ask. before he can edit himself, his lips lunge forward to brush across her clammy forehead. ]
[ she won't let go of the belief that he will come to regret that. or maybe it's that she won't all at once. it's nice to question it that meagre amount, if nothing else.
her thoughts become strangely benign after that. mostly, she wonders what to do with her hands. she wants to touch him more than anything but doesn't know where or have the muscle memory to instigate a self-contained caress. christ knows she can't kiss him and he can probably smell her breath as they are presently (making it his call and taking something else off her shoulders). she just wants to stay there, imperfectly held and peripherally ill, where she barely has to fear her own contentedness, until the need for sleep gives up on her and she can be hungover in peace.
Frank's voice nudge her from her daydreaming while her body remains hunkered against him like a boulder. Jess shoots back the twofer: noncommittal and unintelligible ] Couch.
Shhh. [ he shushes her, because she's not sleeping on his couch in this state. or any other. it's a shitty couch and her hangover will be bad enough as it is. frank's hand moves down, tracing each one of her vertibrae and nuzzling his cheek against hers. his body language is more than clear: he'll stay right where he is until she's ready to move. hell, maybe they just sleep here. he doesn't care what happens next now that she's in his arms. ]
[ Jess utters a token grumble, persuaded to shhh by his hands, finally touching her like he's not afraid her skin is going to betray them. she's been starving for some sort of contact ever since he left her bed, to the point that she contemplated fuelling up to black out and getting it from someone else. seemed too cumbersome, in the end. self-sabotage overkill. plus it's always good to have an ace up her sleeve.
when she feels herself drift off, she pulls herself back by moving her hand to his thigh. he's warmer than a radiator and rough in denim, like her. if she falls asleep, she can't have this anymore, unless it's contorted by her memories. the past few nights (or days or units of sleep, whenever they swarmed her side of the battlefield) she hasn't seen him, only knows he's there, through the window and far away, with his eye planted on a scope. watching Kilgrave fuck her, watching her like it, just like he tells her she does, and somehow she knows Frank can hear them too, her name spat onto her again and again as he shoves himself into her. at least if it's a different dream, she may not remember it so well. with how things have worked out, the rationale that helped bring her hear is no longer holding up. her fingers move gently over the fibres of his jeans, her other hand limply grasping at the hem of his leg.
oh, he's stopped shushing her. waning, Jess tips her head toward him to be heard, unable to raise her voice. ] Four hours. Wake me up.
[ the second she fully yields to him, he's enveloping her with both arms, zero hesitation in his frame. he finds the best spot for himself, his back rigid against the bathtub, but he's slept much worse places with much worse people. pick any spiderhole with billy fucking russo for example. her fingers traveling up his leg has the barest shiver tracking through his middle, and he holds her. he holds her like she's precious because no matter what else has happened, she is to him. ]
Copy. [ a gravelly murmur as he recalls his own words to her. i set an alarm for four hours. he doesn't need his phone. he can keep track of the minutes in his head easily. his chin slots in against her forehead as she falls under the tide, gathering her even a little closer with one strong arm around her shoulders and the other still cupping her waist. frank drifts off after the first hour, dozing more than truly sleeping, though the effect is the same. everything but the hands tight around her slacken and he closes his eyes at long last, even unconscious loving the way their bodies fit.
he only shuts his eyes for maybe 45 minutes, though it's enough to leave him a bit disoriented and groggy. he shifts, almost accidentally waking her before he realizes his mistake. frank pushes stubborn, damp hair out of her eyes and watches her sleep. she doesn't look peaceful, but she doesn't look in distress either. she's just... being. complacent. which is something he's never really seen from her before.
around the 3 1/2 hour mark, he wakes her just to be safe. the sun coming up persistently through the trees and shining through the tiny bathroom window cluing him in that it's time. steeling himself, he shakes her shoulder, knowing it'll really hurt if she punches him for startling her. ] Jess? Jess, wake up.
Edited (i lied i wasnt done lma o) 2018-01-15 21:00 (UTC)
[ the military jargon elicits a soft snort, her last vestige of stubbornness as she lets go, less scared than she has any right to be despite his promise.
she lies there heavily for hours, coming out of it now and then to weakly adjust the angle of her legs. they've gone to pins and needles; it's her hip that aches from the angle at which she relented to his support. it's easier to ignore than to correct it, and then be coaxed back to rest, Frank's heart beating close to her ear. without his knowledge, she makes him promise again, wake me up. every time he doesn't, she falls under with relief, whether it means five more minutes of sleep or fifty. thank god she's too tired to talk because her blood alcohol level would encourage her to and it's so goddamn pleasant to fall asleep with someone without timing their breaths from the burrow at the back of her skull.
her time is up all of a sudden, as though she only just fell asleep, and Jess groans petulantly into his shoulder. she has to get up, she knows that, but christ, is the knowledge all that gets him to do it? because its argument to her is pretty paltry. her consciousness is already slipping back from her swollen eyelids to the wreck in her head, and her mouth tastes like shit. she sighs, refusing to lift her head or open her eyes, though she is crawling towards wakefulness. that ibuprofen can't have gone anywhere. sounds like breakfast. ]
You up? [ he asks, jolting her a little with his shoulder, more because it hurts than anything. don't get him wrong, this was 100% worth it on his end and then some, but he needs to move before he gets frozen this way for good. frank gently starts to sit up, taking her with him. ] We have to get some water in you, okay? Advil. I'll make more coffee. [ she needs food, but that always seems to be a touchy subject for some reason so he's leaving it off for now. ]
Yeah, fine. [ she murmurs sourly, pushing against him cursorily while leaning on him almost completely, both of her legs numb below the knees. the room is hardly bright but she can only take it in squinting. her head is starting to pound like the pressure in the room has changed. as surreptitiously as she can, she starts to flex her toes in her boots and get her blood circulating properly so that he doesn't have to carry her.
Jess raises her hand for the glass of water, stagnant by a few hours. the idea of it has stopped reigniting her nausea, so it might be okay, but she's still glad they didn't stray from the bathroom. ]
[ he wiggles his toes too, a fact he doesn't try to hide given that he's wearing no shoes. one hand still on her waist, he pitches forward and manages to get the water and hand it to her before repeating the process for the pills. ]
It's really coming down out there. [ he notes idly, wondering how much has already piled up outside. a fleeting but serious expression crosses his face, but he doesn't offer up his thoughts, still mostly focused on taking care of her. ]
[ Jess is too consumed by the nerves starting to buzz under her skin to notice anything about him except that he's still there, right there. if she didn't feel so shitty, she would think she's dreaming. hangovers are good for something, sometimes. Jess sips carefully at the water, pills stowed in her hand. the smallest amount is enough to smooth her throat for as long as it's going down. she pops the advil into her mouth and gulps down over half the cup, then takes a breather to ensure her stomach won't send it back up. ]
The snow? [ she croaks, glancing up and regretting it instantaneously. Jess ducks her head and that leaves her looking at her legs, which twitch imperceptibly when she tries to move them. ok back to toes ]
Yeah. [ he goes back to absently rubbing her back while she tries to get her legs to work again. he's purposefully keeping his own head empty as well, knowing whenever things filter in from past lives for either of them shit gets dicey. maybe they can actually enjoy a snowed in day together. would that be so bad? ] Do you like it? Snow.
I don't hate it. [ especially not if it gives her another reason to put off touching base with Trish. she can always lie about her phone dying. her sister will see through it right away but it's the thought that counts.
Jess runs her tongue over her lips, a huge mistake. the water may have soothed the cracks before the skin could break but it did nothing to wash away the dregs of coffee and bile. she might be off the stuff for a couple days but she won't bother him with that until he's dislodged them from the floor. if it's as bad as he says it is out there, she's in no rush to get going. just thinking about the glare off the fresh snow gives her the tickle of a headache.
whispering hurts and her normal volume is painfully amplified in her head. Jess murmurs, tipping her head up to be heard (eyes both lowered and closed), ] Could stay a while, though.
No, me either. [ he allows himself a brief interlude where she starts feeling better and they go outside to play. maybe they could have a snowball fight. it's not too fantastical is it? frank snorts when she finally speaks up again, nudging his nose against the side of her face even if she doesn't smell great right now. he's pretty sure neither of them do. ]
You could, could you? [ it's fond, tinged with a bit of his own drowsiness he still hasn't shaken. carefully, he peels himself up off the floor, bracing one foot against the tile and wrapping both arms around her middle so he can pull her to her feet with the motion. he waits, holding onto her in case she can't stand, but also ready to let go in an instant if she needs to puke again. ]
[ she's pretty sure she remembers most of what they talked about last night... earlier this morning, and it doesn't merit the tone of his voice. talk about finding joy in the little things.
she hums warningly as he drags her up with him. Jess wobbles from the sensation of all the blood in her brain staying down about where her knees are. the heels of her feet are still numb; it doesn't help to feel like she's floating an inch off the ground, at the same time immobilized in quicksand. ]
Shit. [ sinking down, she finds the bathtub's edge with her hand and plants her ass on it. the water in her stomach jostles menacingly but the rest of her stabilizes well enough. she keeps a hold of Frank's side until she notices what she's doing, then lets her hand drop. ] Can you give me a minute in here?
[ he lets go so she can sit, having anticipated as much, though he's happy to stand here while she clutches to him and gets her bearings. it's almost melancholy when she pulls away. ] Just one? [ she looks like she needs a few, his face creasing with concern though he'd told himself not to feel sorry for her. and he still doesn't, not really, he just wants her to feel better instantly though they both know that isn't how this works. ]
What do you need? [ he finally asks out of desperation. if she doesn't answer he's going to start bringing her everything he can think of to combat a hangover so she better start talking. ]
[ she'd roll her eyes at his semantics, if it didn't hurt like hell. shaking her head is a no-go too, she assumes. nobody ever died of a hangover so it's not like he's going to come busting in, no matter how long she takes. ]
Bread. And peanut butter or something. [ whatever he's got to make it go down. she's wondering what happened to the rest of that bottle, too, but fuck, she has to eat even though she isn't hungry. Jess sags with her elbows on her thighs and lets her head hang, deflating with a massive, tired breath. she vaguely recalls that what he described cooking yesterday sounded good but she's going to stick to what she knows, where she can. ]
Jelly or just p-b? [ he asks brightly, like he's delighted just to have the chance to wait on her. all the sleep is shaken from his voice and what's left there instead is an unmistakable eagerness to do whatever she says right now.
frank walks out into the kitchen as he waits for her reply, the place is so small that even in her quiet voice now he'll hear her. he gives a look to the bottle still propped up against the wall. there's maybe a finger and a half in the bottom of it. he sighs and goes to make her sandwich and put on coffee. and then he's tearing through the fridge because he could have sworn he bought gatorade. ]
[ she can't have slept so deeply that he was able to get out from under her, set an alarm, and perfectly reposition himself without stirring her enough to wake her up, which means he's so used to this it can't be overly taxing to be chipper on top. the scant amount of rest she accrued is a slight in its wholeness: any more and she would have preferred not to sleep at all. what's the world record for most hours spent awake? she can beat it, easy. ]
Sure, jam, whatever. [ Jess says once she's stumbled her way to the sink and is closing the door with a bat of her hand. she twists the cold knob on the faucet all the way open and cups water in her hands, splashing her face and filling her mouth to rinse. she combs damp fingers back through her hair, wets her palms again and wipes her chin and throat, and then grabs the toothpaste from his medicine cabinet.twice, she does her best with her finger as a toothbrush, swishes, spits and rinses. as a test of her balance, she bends to grab the glass from the floor, empties the remaining third and fills it with fresh tap water.
it's almost as good as whiskey, not that she'd ever admit it.
Jess rolls her sleeves back a few times and then leaves the bathroom, declining the mirror's invitation to contemplate herself as critically as possible. wiping the corner of one eye, she scans the wall for the light switch and crosses to shut it off. ]
[ he doesn't turn on any lights, closing the blinds in the small space preemptively before making it across to fix them what passes for breakfast at this hour. by the time she makes it to the kitchen "nook," he's placing down a plate with a peanut butter and jelly, strawberry jam and smooth (sorry malcolm.) the sandwich is precisely cut on a diagnal and there's a bottle of orange gatorade on the table in lieu of any type of juice. and so she can at least pretend to hydrate before drinking again, if he can help it.
coffee is still brewing as he fixes his sandwich, not looking up from his task as she slips in. twelve long years of being a dad and eighteen of being a marine had taught him to sleep anywhere, anytime and be woken just as quickly. violently if you were frank jr. it's why it's no tax on his system at all to be a morning person, though just from the slight effort exerted here he's already deflating just a bit.
once the coffee is done, he pours some for her in a clean mug. one that declares her as the 'world's best grandma.' he rinses out his hoosiers mug and uses that again for himself, despite again the chip on the rim. frank sets everything on the table, their plates mismatched too, and sits down with her. it's hard not to draw comparisons to all the times they've sat here before, and what's different, but he's still doing his best to keep his mind quiet. ]
[ even the clinks coming from the kitchen are fucking chipper. Jess shuts her mouth on a sigh, pushing it out through her nose, and trudges slowly to the dining table. the spread is all the more appetizing for how small and simple it is, though she mistakes the gatorade for orange juice initially. ]
Anything you don't do better than me? [ Jess jokes, kinda, and hefts herself into her seat using the back of the chair. the aroma of coffee is strong, whipping up an uncertain rumble in her stomach that nonetheless begs for food. Just to be safe, she distances her mug by the length of her reach before staring the sandwich down again. half. half is all she has to manage. she can eat the rest later, if the disappearance of her hangover reveals an appropriate hunger. one of the reasons she practically lives on sandwiches. ]
Leap tall buildings in a single bound? [ he quips without missing a beat, taking a bite of his own sandwich and leaning back in his chair. the immediate glucose spike is welcome after that rollercoaster ride of a night. ]
[ she snorts, picking her sandwich up by a corner. ] I can land from a lot taller ones.
[ it's a bitch of a metaphor.
Jess takes the biggest bite she can, her muscles labouring through apathy with every chew of her teeth. Jess grabs the gatorade to wash it down, gulping until her mouth is clear save for the peanut butter stuck to her gums. looking at her food turns putting it away into even more of a chore. instead, she watches him eat and enjoy it, expecting a spark of envy that's superseded by a surge of appreciation for his stupid, brick shithouse charm. oh well. either one will distract her well enough through the slog that is breakfast. she should swerve automatically into the jealousy lane when he sips that coffee of his. should. ]
Noticed that too. [ it's soft, his gaze appreciating her in its own way in kind. what is it about women who don't realize how strong they are? far beyond the physical, that is. he takes another bite and washes it down with still scalding coffee, only cautious enough to not kill every tastebud in his mouth, only most. ]
Stalker. [ she says through her second mouthful and nudges his shin under the table with the toe of her boot. it isn't funny, it's that she's glad they're past that. she can't waste energy berating herself for continuing a relationship risen from such awful foundation. that would be opening the door for disappointment. she's never done the long haul with anyone and she's dubious of wanting to, given that that's usually a guarantee of the opposite outcome. individually they're built to last. together, they can see how far they make it.
with the help of orange sports juice, Jess makes her half-sandwich goal and slumps between her chair and the wall, resting her head for a moment. and her eyes. her brain too maybe. ]
[ he feels about the same about all of it, so really, there's no point in hashing it out. as far as he's concerned, they got as close as they could to a resolution last night. an impasse more than anything, but one he's content to grab with both hands. a grin pushes at his lips when she pokes him with her shoe, shaking his head. not anymore. even if the inclination is still there, tempting him everyday. as long as she doesn't shy away from his concern completely, he's much less likely to give in. ]
Feel any better? [ he asks after a beat of silence, only getting through half the sandwich himself before slowing down. ]
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[ he's happy too to finally have a mention of the shitbag who hurt her in less abstract description. they both were dismantled by assholes, but that doesn't mean they have to be alone. maybe it means... they should come together, because no one else gets how fucked up it feels. ]
Can I put you to bed now? [ an incredibly gentle ask. before he can edit himself, his lips lunge forward to brush across her clammy forehead. ]
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her thoughts become strangely benign after that. mostly, she wonders what to do with her hands. she wants to touch him more than anything but doesn't know where or have the muscle memory to instigate a self-contained caress. christ knows she can't kiss him and he can probably smell her breath as they are presently (making it his call and taking something else off her shoulders). she just wants to stay there, imperfectly held and peripherally ill, where she barely has to fear her own contentedness, until the need for sleep gives up on her and she can be hungover in peace.
Frank's voice nudge her from her daydreaming while her body remains hunkered against him like a boulder. Jess shoots back the twofer: noncommittal and unintelligible ] Couch.
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when she feels herself drift off, she pulls herself back by moving her hand to his thigh. he's warmer than a radiator and rough in denim, like her. if she falls asleep, she can't have this anymore, unless it's contorted by her memories. the past few nights (or days or units of sleep, whenever they swarmed her side of the battlefield) she hasn't seen him, only knows he's there, through the window and far away, with his eye planted on a scope. watching Kilgrave fuck her, watching her like it, just like he tells her she does, and somehow she knows Frank can hear them too, her name spat onto her again and again as he shoves himself into her. at least if it's a different dream, she may not remember it so well. with how things have worked out, the rationale that helped bring her hear is no longer holding up. her fingers move gently over the fibres of his jeans, her other hand limply grasping at the hem of his leg.
oh, he's stopped shushing her. waning, Jess tips her head toward him to be heard, unable to raise her voice. ] Four hours. Wake me up.
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Copy. [ a gravelly murmur as he recalls his own words to her. i set an alarm for four hours. he doesn't need his phone. he can keep track of the minutes in his head easily. his chin slots in against her forehead as she falls under the tide, gathering her even a little closer with one strong arm around her shoulders and the other still cupping her waist. frank drifts off after the first hour, dozing more than truly sleeping, though the effect is the same. everything but the hands tight around her slacken and he closes his eyes at long last, even unconscious loving the way their bodies fit.
he only shuts his eyes for maybe 45 minutes, though it's enough to leave him a bit disoriented and groggy. he shifts, almost accidentally waking her before he realizes his mistake. frank pushes stubborn, damp hair out of her eyes and watches her sleep. she doesn't look peaceful, but she doesn't look in distress either. she's just... being. complacent. which is something he's never really seen from her before.
around the 3 1/2 hour mark, he wakes her just to be safe. the sun coming up persistently through the trees and shining through the tiny bathroom window cluing him in that it's time. steeling himself, he shakes her shoulder, knowing it'll really hurt if she punches him for startling her. ] Jess? Jess, wake up.
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she lies there heavily for hours, coming out of it now and then to weakly adjust the angle of her legs. they've gone to pins and needles; it's her hip that aches from the angle at which she relented to his support. it's easier to ignore than to correct it, and then be coaxed back to rest, Frank's heart beating close to her ear. without his knowledge, she makes him promise again, wake me up. every time he doesn't, she falls under with relief, whether it means five more minutes of sleep or fifty. thank god she's too tired to talk because her blood alcohol level would encourage her to and it's so goddamn pleasant to fall asleep with someone without timing their breaths from the burrow at the back of her skull.
her time is up all of a sudden, as though she only just fell asleep, and Jess groans petulantly into his shoulder. she has to get up, she knows that, but christ, is the knowledge all that gets him to do it? because its argument to her is pretty paltry. her consciousness is already slipping back from her swollen eyelids to the wreck in her head, and her mouth tastes like shit. she sighs, refusing to lift her head or open her eyes, though she is crawling towards wakefulness. that ibuprofen can't have gone anywhere. sounds like breakfast. ]
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We can take another nap later.
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Jess raises her hand for the glass of water, stagnant by a few hours. the idea of it has stopped reigniting her nausea, so it might be okay, but she's still glad they didn't stray from the bathroom. ]
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It's really coming down out there. [ he notes idly, wondering how much has already piled up outside. a fleeting but serious expression crosses his face, but he doesn't offer up his thoughts, still mostly focused on taking care of her. ]
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The snow? [ she croaks, glancing up and regretting it instantaneously. Jess ducks her head and that leaves her looking at her legs, which twitch imperceptibly when she tries to move them. ok back to toes ]
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Jess runs her tongue over her lips, a huge mistake. the water may have soothed the cracks before the skin could break but it did nothing to wash away the dregs of coffee and bile. she might be off the stuff for a couple days but she won't bother him with that until he's dislodged them from the floor. if it's as bad as he says it is out there, she's in no rush to get going. just thinking about the glare off the fresh snow gives her the tickle of a headache.
whispering hurts and her normal volume is painfully amplified in her head. Jess murmurs, tipping her head up to be heard (eyes both lowered and closed), ] Could stay a while, though.
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You could, could you? [ it's fond, tinged with a bit of his own drowsiness he still hasn't shaken. carefully, he peels himself up off the floor, bracing one foot against the tile and wrapping both arms around her middle so he can pull her to her feet with the motion. he waits, holding onto her in case she can't stand, but also ready to let go in an instant if she needs to puke again. ]
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she hums warningly as he drags her up with him. Jess wobbles from the sensation of all the blood in her brain staying down about where her knees are. the heels of her feet are still numb; it doesn't help to feel like she's floating an inch off the ground, at the same time immobilized in quicksand. ]
Shit. [ sinking down, she finds the bathtub's edge with her hand and plants her ass on it. the water in her stomach jostles menacingly but the rest of her stabilizes well enough. she keeps a hold of Frank's side until she notices what she's doing, then lets her hand drop. ] Can you give me a minute in here?
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What do you need? [ he finally asks out of desperation. if she doesn't answer he's going to start bringing her everything he can think of to combat a hangover so she better start talking. ]
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Bread. And peanut butter or something. [ whatever he's got to make it go down. she's wondering what happened to the rest of that bottle, too, but fuck, she has to eat even though she isn't hungry. Jess sags with her elbows on her thighs and lets her head hang, deflating with a massive, tired breath. she vaguely recalls that what he described cooking yesterday sounded good but she's going to stick to what she knows, where she can. ]
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frank walks out into the kitchen as he waits for her reply, the place is so small that even in her quiet voice now he'll hear her. he gives a look to the bottle still propped up against the wall. there's maybe a finger and a half in the bottom of it. he sighs and goes to make her sandwich and put on coffee. and then he's tearing through the fridge because he could have sworn he bought gatorade. ]
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Sure, jam, whatever. [ Jess says once she's stumbled her way to the sink and is closing the door with a bat of her hand. she twists the cold knob on the faucet all the way open and cups water in her hands, splashing her face and filling her mouth to rinse. she combs damp fingers back through her hair, wets her palms again and wipes her chin and throat, and then grabs the toothpaste from his medicine cabinet.twice, she does her best with her finger as a toothbrush, swishes, spits and rinses. as a test of her balance, she bends to grab the glass from the floor, empties the remaining third and fills it with fresh tap water.
it's almost as good as whiskey, not that she'd ever admit it.
Jess rolls her sleeves back a few times and then leaves the bathroom, declining the mirror's invitation to contemplate herself as critically as possible. wiping the corner of one eye, she scans the wall for the light switch and crosses to shut it off. ]
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coffee is still brewing as he fixes his sandwich, not looking up from his task as she slips in. twelve long years of being a dad and eighteen of being a marine had taught him to sleep anywhere, anytime and be woken just as quickly. violently if you were frank jr. it's why it's no tax on his system at all to be a morning person, though just from the slight effort exerted here he's already deflating just a bit.
once the coffee is done, he pours some for her in a clean mug. one that declares her as the 'world's best grandma.' he rinses out his hoosiers mug and uses that again for himself, despite again the chip on the rim. frank sets everything on the table, their plates mismatched too, and sits down with her. it's hard not to draw comparisons to all the times they've sat here before, and what's different, but he's still doing his best to keep his mind quiet. ]
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Anything you don't do better than me? [ Jess jokes, kinda, and hefts herself into her seat using the back of the chair. the aroma of coffee is strong, whipping up an uncertain rumble in her stomach that nonetheless begs for food. Just to be safe, she distances her mug by the length of her reach before staring the sandwich down again. half. half is all she has to manage. she can eat the rest later, if the disappearance of her hangover reveals an appropriate hunger. one of the reasons she practically lives on sandwiches. ]
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[ it's a bitch of a metaphor.
Jess takes the biggest bite she can, her muscles labouring through apathy with every chew of her teeth. Jess grabs the gatorade to wash it down, gulping until her mouth is clear save for the peanut butter stuck to her gums. looking at her food turns putting it away into even more of a chore. instead, she watches him eat and enjoy it, expecting a spark of envy that's superseded by a surge of appreciation for his stupid, brick shithouse charm. oh well. either one will distract her well enough through the slog that is breakfast. she should swerve automatically into the jealousy lane when he sips that coffee of his. should. ]
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with the help of orange sports juice, Jess makes her half-sandwich goal and slumps between her chair and the wall, resting her head for a moment. and her eyes. her brain too maybe. ]
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Feel any better? [ he asks after a beat of silence, only getting through half the sandwich himself before slowing down. ]
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are you ready to take this to turbo cute because it's boyfriend shirt time
um HALE YEA who do you take me for huh
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