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((Picking up from here!))
Annie isn't wrong: Jesse is different tonight. Something about what Harry had said to him after they were paired -- maybe he's waiting for you to feel qualified to help -- has been lingering like a cold. He doubts he can actually help Harry, but he knows there are a few inmates on board that he can, and suddenly he feels like an asshole not doing what he can for them.
It gets complicated with Annie, but... what he knows is that hurting her isn't helping her the way he'd thought it would. Trying to make her let him go had been about safety, but now he knows she needs more than a buffer between herself and his baggage, and he can't give her anything more if he keeps pushing her away again and again. He doesn't want to anymore. He's done.
And if he recognizes the room, the bed -- if he thinks back to that night -- he doesn't let it scare him. On the other hand, not knowing exactly what she asked him here for means not knowing exactly what to do, so he hovers near the doorway and watches her for a cue. "Why are you staying at Elizabeth's place?" he asks.
Annie isn't wrong: Jesse is different tonight. Something about what Harry had said to him after they were paired -- maybe he's waiting for you to feel qualified to help -- has been lingering like a cold. He doubts he can actually help Harry, but he knows there are a few inmates on board that he can, and suddenly he feels like an asshole not doing what he can for them.
It gets complicated with Annie, but... what he knows is that hurting her isn't helping her the way he'd thought it would. Trying to make her let him go had been about safety, but now he knows she needs more than a buffer between herself and his baggage, and he can't give her anything more if he keeps pushing her away again and again. He doesn't want to anymore. He's done.
And if he recognizes the room, the bed -- if he thinks back to that night -- he doesn't let it scare him. On the other hand, not knowing exactly what she asked him here for means not knowing exactly what to do, so he hovers near the doorway and watches her for a cue. "Why are you staying at Elizabeth's place?" he asks.
"She's my roommate," Annie says with the easy cheer she usually gives. It's Jesse, though, and she's her to fix her mascara-run cheeks, so she sits down at the little vanity corner she set up for herself on the floor and pats the bed to invite him to sit somewhere more comfortable.
"I don't do so great when I'm alone. I'm used to having nine or ten guys around, making noise, whatever. If it's too quiet, my head just makes monsters out of like, tree shadows, you know? I was sleeping out on one of the couches in the TV room one time and Elizabeth caught me. I was gonna lie to her but- have you met her? She's hard to lie to." She glances away at a mirror, starts cleaning up. "She said I could come live with her as long as I wanted. She's a lot of fun to live with, so I decided to stay."
She holds up two lipsticks, one berry red and one soft pink. "Which one?"
"I don't do so great when I'm alone. I'm used to having nine or ten guys around, making noise, whatever. If it's too quiet, my head just makes monsters out of like, tree shadows, you know? I was sleeping out on one of the couches in the TV room one time and Elizabeth caught me. I was gonna lie to her but- have you met her? She's hard to lie to." She glances away at a mirror, starts cleaning up. "She said I could come live with her as long as I wanted. She's a lot of fun to live with, so I decided to stay."
She holds up two lipsticks, one berry red and one soft pink. "Which one?"
He sits on the corner of the bed, a leg on either side, drumming his fingers on his thighs as he looks around. "She was my temp," he says off-handedly. "It must've been after that... probably." He has to admit, they hadn't exactly spent a lot of time with each other; it's really entirely plausible she had a roommate the whole time.
He's going to ask about that fun to live with thing later. It seems less plausible to him.
He blinks at the question, raising his brows. "I dunno, um... the red one is pretty sexy, if that's what you're... going for..." If nothing else, he thinks, he's probably confirming that he's straight. He clears his throat and shifts down to the floor, propping his knees up and leaning back against the bed. "So, nine or ten guys, huh?" He knows what she means, he remembers about the pack, but even he can't help but tease a little.
He's going to ask about that fun to live with thing later. It seems less plausible to him.
He blinks at the question, raising his brows. "I dunno, um... the red one is pretty sexy, if that's what you're... going for..." If nothing else, he thinks, he's probably confirming that he's straight. He clears his throat and shifts down to the floor, propping his knees up and leaning back against the bed. "So, nine or ten guys, huh?" He knows what she means, he remembers about the pack, but even he can't help but tease a little.
Edited 2017-01-05 01:15 (UTC)
She raises an eyebrow and applies the red, laughing before she's all the way done because of his question. Some of what he's teasing about was actually true, but she absolutely does not want to talk about the 'free love' mentality in wolf packs. Not with the guy she is applying sexy lipstick for, not when he's only just started to come around to her.
But on the other hand, with everything he's told her, all the things he's come clean about.... She doesn't want to be up front about this, but she forces herself to be anyway.
"Until a couple years ago I was way into the hippie lifestyle, brah. Take out the drugs and the music and throw in surfing. But...that changed." She glances at him because yeah, he can probably guess why. "The guys who survived with me I started calling 'brothers'. I mean we were surfers, I called lots of people brother, but I meant it with them." Trauma built her a sturdier family than the one she was born into.
But on the other hand, with everything he's told her, all the things he's come clean about.... She doesn't want to be up front about this, but she forces herself to be anyway.
"Until a couple years ago I was way into the hippie lifestyle, brah. Take out the drugs and the music and throw in surfing. But...that changed." She glances at him because yeah, he can probably guess why. "The guys who survived with me I started calling 'brothers'. I mean we were surfers, I called lots of people brother, but I meant it with them." Trauma built her a sturdier family than the one she was born into.
He nods. He gets it. Even if he hates his own found family even more than he hates his real one, he remembers what it felt like to be bound together by mutual suffering. Really, he wouldn't be surprised to find she'd done less-than-sisterly things with some of them; he can't imagine being in that situation without it happening.
Actually, the only thing that catches him up is the thing that will always catch them both up, and he's about to protest take out the drugs until he realizes why she said it. Right. Wolf. "So... what were you before you were in a hippie werewolf cult?"
Actually, the only thing that catches him up is the thing that will always catch them both up, and he's about to protest take out the drugs until he realizes why she said it. Right. Wolf. "So... what were you before you were in a hippie werewolf cult?"
There are so many things she wouldn't dream of telling people at home, but each time she floats something to him that would send other people into fits of pity or disgust, he nods and it's as easy as that.
She toys with her hair, putting it in a braid and unbraiding it, because otherwise her hands will find something else to do. "I was a runaway junkie living on the beach. I had a lot of stoner friends I'd surf with or crash on their couches, if they had 'em. I was that for a long time. What about you?"
What was he before he was, from what she's gathered, a very powerful cook? (His story brought that home for her. They don't send you to Mexico to teach meth unless you're something different than the twitchy dealers she had known.)
She toys with her hair, putting it in a braid and unbraiding it, because otherwise her hands will find something else to do. "I was a runaway junkie living on the beach. I had a lot of stoner friends I'd surf with or crash on their couches, if they had 'em. I was that for a long time. What about you?"
What was he before he was, from what she's gathered, a very powerful cook? (His story brought that home for her. They don't send you to Mexico to teach meth unless you're something different than the twitchy dealers she had known.)
He shakes his head and gives a shrug. His own hands are doing the same fidgety dance, picking at each other absently; stillness, sober, has always been difficult for him. "Before I was big-time, I was small-time, and before that..."
He hesitates, then snorts softly as he realizes: "Before that, I was a disappointment." He rolls his eyes, but he can't hide the bitterness in his expression. "A burnout, a druggie, a slacker. And before that, I was just... I dunno. Dumb."
He hesitates, then snorts softly as he realizes: "Before that, I was a disappointment." He rolls his eyes, but he can't hide the bitterness in his expression. "A burnout, a druggie, a slacker. And before that, I was just... I dunno. Dumb."
"Dumb ones don't survive," Annie says softly, her thumb stroking the scar on her throat. She isn't talking about herself, though; or if she is, it's only because his scars are evidence that it's true.
She shakes her head and puts the makeup away, scoots closer to him. It's a risky move, but she's choosing to trust what he said earlier, and if she's no longer meant to fear him then she's free to act naturally with him. And that means she can tuck herself up against him and rest her head on his shoulder while she talks.
"I was all those things too, though. It's why I ran away, got into all the things I shouldn't have done. Just between us? It's why I like it here. The Admiral could've picked a million, billion-trillion other people at the same time he picked me. So I take this second chance stuff seriously. We can be better here than we were at home."
She shakes her head and puts the makeup away, scoots closer to him. It's a risky move, but she's choosing to trust what he said earlier, and if she's no longer meant to fear him then she's free to act naturally with him. And that means she can tuck herself up against him and rest her head on his shoulder while she talks.
"I was all those things too, though. It's why I ran away, got into all the things I shouldn't have done. Just between us? It's why I like it here. The Admiral could've picked a million, billion-trillion other people at the same time he picked me. So I take this second chance stuff seriously. We can be better here than we were at home."
Edited 2017-01-05 02:52 (UTC)
There's an instant of tension when she curls up against him, like a current going through his muscles -- but he doesn't move, and he doesn't make her move, and after a pause like a freaked-out deer he lets out a breath and leans into it. He tips his head to the side so he can breathe in the scent of her hair, letting it slowly, slowly start to relax him.
"I can't say as I like it here," he murmurs, "but I know it's good I get to be here, anyways. It's like rehab that way, right? And I know I got this chance... and I know I'd be screwed without it."
He lifts his eyes briefly to the ceiling, embarrassed to admit to this, but: "Chloe had to kind of talk me down the other day, when we got into Sweden... I always thought if I wasn't here, I'd maybe drive up to Alaska and live there for a while. But I didn't realize just how fucking cold it can get, Jesus. Anyway, it freaked me out, I guess. It was like a... like another door closing."
"I can't say as I like it here," he murmurs, "but I know it's good I get to be here, anyways. It's like rehab that way, right? And I know I got this chance... and I know I'd be screwed without it."
He lifts his eyes briefly to the ceiling, embarrassed to admit to this, but: "Chloe had to kind of talk me down the other day, when we got into Sweden... I always thought if I wasn't here, I'd maybe drive up to Alaska and live there for a while. But I didn't realize just how fucking cold it can get, Jesus. Anyway, it freaked me out, I guess. It was like a... like another door closing."
She tips her face to get a glimpse of him without really lifting her head off of him. Costa Rica was slammed shut on her without warning, and that is a wound that really won't ever heal. But she never counted Costa Rica--or anywhere else--as her trump card. She never had a place in her head that she used as a focal point when everything else had gone to hell.
He's embarrassed, but it sounds like a significant loss to her.
"What did Chloe say?"
He's embarrassed, but it sounds like a significant loss to her.
"What did Chloe say?"
"Do you still want Alaska?" There's no shame in seeing a winter hellscape and deciding 'no', if you ask her. "Because Brazil's got some remote places, too, you know."
"I dunno," he says, nodding. "Maybe Brazil."
Because she's not wrong about what he's looking for: the real priority is finding a spot where his closest neighbor is a mile away.
"It's not like I gotta decide any time soon," he adds, drumming his fingers against his knees. "I'm gonna be here basically forever first, so."
Because she's not wrong about what he's looking for: the real priority is finding a spot where his closest neighbor is a mile away.
"It's not like I gotta decide any time soon," he adds, drumming his fingers against his knees. "I'm gonna be here basically forever first, so."
"That makes two of us," she says, like they're two people who have won the lottery. Partly she's joking. It's not easy living here. She isn't sure she'd still want to be a warden if she didn't have so much depending on her success.
"Does it drive you nuts having people around all the time?" When what he wants is solitude.
"Does it drive you nuts having people around all the time?" When what he wants is solitude.
"Yeah, I used to get so space sick when I first got here." Thank God for Jensen. "Now when I go up there I almost get the same feeling I do when I'm just drifting on a hot day, looking down at the fish under my board."
She ended up liking Alfie and Me, but every time she longs for the Enclosure she gets angry at them. Maybe that's a good sign.
"I was just thinking, you know, it's almost midnight. And...do you have someone?"
She ended up liking Alfie and Me, but every time she longs for the Enclosure she gets angry at them. Maybe that's a good sign.
"I was just thinking, you know, it's almost midnight. And...do you have someone?"
The grin that causes makes it hard to believe that an hour ago she was in tears, that they've just offered bare details on some of the worst parts of their lives.
"I think it's midnight now," she says. It's not. She knows there's at least another hour. But he is, indeed, sitting right there, close enough that she hardly has to move at all to bring a hesitant hand up to his jaw.
"I think it's midnight now," she says. It's not. She knows there's at least another hour. But he is, indeed, sitting right there, close enough that she hardly has to move at all to bring a hesitant hand up to his jaw.
The last time he kissed her-- well, okay, the last time he kissed her, or she kissed him, was under the mistletoe in the elevator. But the last time he really kissed her, he had no idea who he was or she was, had no idea why it could be anything like a big deal. It had been a fun night with a hot chick. Easy.
This time, it's a very big deal and anything from easy, and all it takes is the brush of her hand to set his heart hammering in his chest. He hesitates for a few beats, too, but then he doesn't hesitate at all: he turns in towards her and clasps her face in his hands, pulling her into the kiss he'd wanted to give her in the elevator and every moment since.
This time, it's a very big deal and anything from easy, and all it takes is the brush of her hand to set his heart hammering in his chest. He hesitates for a few beats, too, but then he doesn't hesitate at all: he turns in towards her and clasps her face in his hands, pulling her into the kiss he'd wanted to give her in the elevator and every moment since.
She had expected their first kiss (first real kiss, after all this time) to be tentative, hesitant. Brief.
It's not.
It had taken every ounce of willpower to kiss his cheek and be done in the elevator. She had wanted this, though; a kiss with the freedom for her to savor it.
It's not.
It had taken every ounce of willpower to kiss his cheek and be done in the elevator. She had wanted this, though; a kiss with the freedom for her to savor it.
She's not alone in that, and now that he finally has the real opportunity he doesn't waste it. It's none of what she was expecting: it's deep and steady, searching, longing. Anything but brief.
When they finally come up for air, he finds himself at a loss, struck momentarily speechless. He rubs his thumbs over her cheeks, staring down into her eyes.
When they finally come up for air, he finds himself at a loss, struck momentarily speechless. He rubs his thumbs over her cheeks, staring down into her eyes.
It simply isn't possible, even for her, to keep a mask up with the way he's watching her. She has never looked back so steadily at another person, not this close, not without knowing what was going to happen next.
When she had brought up midnight she had planned the next step: a quick joke about oh, no, it's not midnight after all, have to do it again. But humor is often a shield for her, and she finds that she's without it right now. The smile tentatively pulling at the corner of her mouth has nothing to do with that.
She's so elated her voice ought to be strong, loud, but she can only manage something like a whisper. "Can we do that more often now?"
When she had brought up midnight she had planned the next step: a quick joke about oh, no, it's not midnight after all, have to do it again. But humor is often a shield for her, and she finds that she's without it right now. The smile tentatively pulling at the corner of her mouth has nothing to do with that.
She's so elated her voice ought to be strong, loud, but she can only manage something like a whisper. "Can we do that more often now?"
"Yeah," he whispers back, not yet smiling, not wanting it to seem like a tease. He moves a hand up to comb it through her hair, looking at the silky strands falling over his fingers. Then her eyes, then her mouth with its smudged berry-sexy-red lipstick.
"Definitely," he adds, and now the corner of his mouth does tick up slightly in turn. "Yes."
"Definitely," he adds, and now the corner of his mouth does tick up slightly in turn. "Yes."
It isn't a smile now, it's a grin, a laugh that she is holding back because she wants to be suave, but it comes as an almost squeak and she kisses him again.
He's going to have a fair amount of red on his lips at this rate.
He's going to have a fair amount of red on his lips at this rate.
If she can live with the beard, he can live with the lipstick. In the moment, he's all too happy to live with the lipstick; and he really is, he realizes to his own surprise as his mouth finds hers again. He's happy. Not for forever, not even in a way that's really going to stick just yet... but the last time he felt this way, this strongly, was so long ago that he almost doesn't even remember it now.
He's smiling when they break again -- like, actually, really smiling. It might look a little strange, the way it creases and warps his scars, but he also looks younger than he has since the flood took all the weight of memory off him. "Annie," he murmurs, pressing his lips to her cheek, her ear, her temple.
He's smiling when they break again -- like, actually, really smiling. It might look a little strange, the way it creases and warps his scars, but he also looks younger than he has since the flood took all the weight of memory off him. "Annie," he murmurs, pressing his lips to her cheek, her ear, her temple.
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