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. ]
[ than this time yesterday? markedly. Jess can't remember what she was doing, or rather where she was drinking. but if he's asking about that, he's doing so specifically so she can misinterpret it, which he either does quite often, she's picked up on, or he really does like to keep things simple. she's finally coming around to trusting it to be the latter, and he seems to not care than in her case, it's always the former. ]
A little. [ the twitch of a wan smile, there and gone. ] Still tired. [ half-lidded, she gives in to looking at him again though he'll be too pleased with himself for pleasing her by any small amount. ] But thanks.
[ 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)
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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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A little. [ the twitch of a wan smile, there and gone. ] Still tired. [ half-lidded, she gives in to looking at him again though he'll be too pleased with himself for pleasing her by any small amount. ] But thanks.
[ for waking her up. she doesn't regret it. ]
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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. ]
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[ 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? ]
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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. ]
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