Tags: jessica is made of awesome, cigarettes and chocolate milk, jessica is well aware that she's made of awesome, fangirling means srs bsns

I always have remembered, in case you're wondering.

“I’ll buy you another.” His voice had deepened. That was the first thing Kathy’s brain registered after slamming into him. Well, actually that was the second. The first was that he was tall. Really tall. She had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. At least that’s what she suspected she’d have to do if she pried her eyes off the floor and the puddle of tea they were both now standing in.
“Another?” she asked, forcing herself to look up as she tried to muddle through just what he was referring to. He grinned and her stomach did that flipping thing again and she tried not to grimace.
“Coffee,” he said – the single word so deep and rough that she nearly sighed. As it was, she had to fight to keep her knees from going weak. This was ridiculous, she scolded herself. She was twenty-two, not thirteen. Grown women do not swoon – her life was not a Jane Austen novel. The best she could hope for was a Bridget Jones knock-off and even that was pushing it.
“Tea,” she corrected him because that’s what you do when you run into the love of your teenage life – you correct him when he’s offering to buy you things and make him wish he’d run in the other direction the moment he’d set eyes on you.
“What?” Now it was his turn to look confused.
“It’s tea. Well, chai, actually. A latte. They’re really good. I mean, I’m sure you know that. Or maybe you don’t like tea. I wouldn’t know, you know. I guess. Um ...” Oh crap, the rambling was starting again. She bit her lip and crossed her arms, the empty mug dangling from her fingertips, dripping the last little bit of her drink down the side of her sweater. She was trying desperately to look casual and unaffected by the six foot-something rock god staring down at her, looking for all the world like he was going to burst out laughing or sweep her off her feet. Either option had become scarily possible in her addled brain.
He scratched his head, ruffling up his already messy hair and he flashed another lopsided grin. “Oh, okay. I’ll buy you another chai, then. How’s that sound?”
“Lovely.” If she was at a desk, she would have slammed her head onto it. Lovely?
He laughed and she forced a smile, hoping she didn’t look as embarrassed as she felt. “Awesome.”

XxXxXxXxXx

Shit, Jack thought to himself, did I really just say ‘awesome’?

XxXxXxXxXx

Jack nodded along, his hair falling in his eyes as he leaned back slightly, attacking the strings of his guitar, the rhythm coming fast and furious as he hit his groove. It was finally happening. The other guys followed along perfectly – well, Steve mumbled the lyrics and flubbed them a bit, but they could work on that. For once, the drums were holding steady with the beat and their newest addition, Trevor on keyboards, was living up to his reputation as being pretty hardcore on the Casio. Even the clarinet didn’t sound like complete shit for a change.
He closed his eyes, letting the moment wash over him. He could see it all. A stage. Blinding lights streaming from behind and above. Screaming, crying, chanting, fans singing along, calling his name. And girls. Lots and lots of girls. Crying, reaching out, trying to grab him.
He grinned as the song entered the final chorus, but something happened, pulling him out of his reverie – just as one hot blonde managed to latch onto his t-shirt, seconds from tearing it off. Brad slammed his sticks on the high hat and groaned. Jack opened his eyes as the last few notes puttered out from his guitar and George squeaked out a dejected honk on his clarinet. Steve kept singing, but he was never the quickest guy in a room – Bobby liked to joke that he was a couple cans short of a six pack. Bobby could be an ass, but Jack had to agree with him on that one.
“What the hell, man?” Jack asked as he pulled the guitar strap over his head, carefully propping the instrument against the work bench that was behind them. They were in Steve’s garage – one of the main reasons they let Steve be the lead singer. They needed a garage and Steve was the only one of them who had one, so by default, he became a founding member of the band. Steve played guitar, but he pretty much sucked at it, only really knowing how to play “Smells Like Teen Spirit” and there was only so much Nirvana a garage band could play before they had to move on. Luckily, his singing wasn’t bad and Jack and Brad were happy to let him have the microphone.
A couple of weeks ago, Jack thought it would be cool to add a saxophonist to the band, but Steve insisted on letting his kid brother play clarinet. Suddenly, Jack knew what it meant to make a deal with the devil. Was the garage worth having a clarinet player in their rock band? Until they found an alternative or signed a record deal that gave them studio space, the answer was going to have to be yes. And that deal almost cost them their newest member.

Jack had heard about Trevor around school – he was good, really good. And he was looking to do more than take piano lessons and prepare for tests to get into pompous music schools. He wanted to break free from the classical crap everyone forced on him and Jack talked to him in the halls at school a couple of times, dropping hints here and there that they were short a keyboardist. It took a while, but it eventually worked and Trevor showed up one day after school to see if the band was what he was looking for.
Taking one look at their hodgepodge crew, Trevor had turned on his heel without even hearing them play, not about to play with a group that had band geek rejects sitting in with them. Jack had to think fast that day, cutting the guy off before he could reach the door. He swore on his stack of Pearl Jam bootlegs that it wasn’t as bad as it looked and that they were serious about their music. It may have been bullshit, but it worked. Trevor stayed, and boy did they need him – at fifteen he had the experience and the knowledge they needed to be more than a bunch of goofballs playing dress-up.
Trevor banged out a couple of angry notes on his keyboard and looked back at Brad. “Yeah, what the hell, dude?”
Brad’s answer was to tilt his head toward the open garage door and point with his drum sticks. “Don’t tell me you guys didn’t notice. Someone’s been stalking us. Walked by three times already.” Brad’s eyes got wide and he hopped of his stool like he’d seen a ghost, tripping backwards over the leg that got caught on his foot. “Shit, there - she did it again. Don’t tell me you didn’t fuckin’ see that.”
Jack turned his attention from his spaz of a friend to the driveway and the empty sidewalk. All he saw was the minivan Steve’s mom had pulled up in a little while ago and the empty trash cans Steve’s dad always told him to bring inside, despite the fact that Steve always forgot. His dad would grumble under his breath, but he’d never yell and would eventually go get them himself. Jack always wondered at that – growing up in foster homes, you learned pretty quick that you had to jump and do what was asked of you or risk a beating. Steve had it lucky, but he doubted he realized that.
“You gotta chill, man. There’s no one there,” Jack said, shaking his head.
Steve was laughing, hanging onto the microphone stand like he’d fall down if he let go. “Real slick, Brad. You look like you’re ready to piss your pants.”
“Want me to grab one of Ethan’s diapers?” George asked and everyone started to laugh. Ethan was George and Steve’s baby brother who was three going on four but still not potty trained. Jack lived in silent fear that the kid would one day start playing the trombone or something equally ridiculous and they’d be forced to let him join.
Jack was laughing right along with everyone else when something caught his eye – a blur at the end of the sidewalk. A blur he recognized.
“Shit,” he said, running his hands through his hair. “I’ll be back, guys.”

XxXxXxXxXx

She moved fast, he’d give her that much. She was already three houses down the block by the time he caught up with her. Of course, the giant white dog pulling her along might have had something to do with her speed. “Kathy,” he called after her, a little out of breath. She stopped, not turning around to look at him, but her dog did, baring its teeth at him.
The dog growled at him as he got closer and Jack stopped in his tracks. It was a poodle, nearly as tall as Kathy and really pissed off looking. Jack always thought poodles were supposed to be snobby and prissy looking – this dog just looked mean. The giant pink bow in its hair wasn’t helping much. Probably one of the reasons it was so mad.
“Chaucer, hush,” Kathy said as she gave a little yank on the dog’s leash and the growling got a little louder, the pouf ball on its head vibrating menacingly. Jack took an involuntary step back, not really wanting to get mauled by a dog wearing a bow and … he looked closer and frowned … pink polish on its nails.
“Hey, uh Kathy,” he called out, trying to sound casual.
She finally turned around, her glasses crooked. She looked frazzled and he fought a smile. “Hi, Jack. Um …” She started gnawing on her lower lip and pushed her glasses up on her nose, still crooked but at least she could see now. “Um, what brings you here?”
He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, motioning to the road behind him. “Band practice, back at Steve’s.”
“Oh. Nice.” She managed, with much prodding, to get the dog to sit down. It was still staring at Jack like it wanted to rip his throat out, but the growling had stopped.
Jack cleared his throat and squinted at her, trying to think of what to say next. He had a sinking feeling she was following him, but he didn’t want to come right out and say it. “Yeah. You, uh, walked by, like, four times.”
“Oh, that was you guys?”
He coughed through a sudden laugh. “Yeah, that was us. Got a lot of bands practicing ‘round here?”
She shrugged. “A few. Maybe. Um …” He could tell she was struggling to think of something to say, but fate stepped in and she didn’t have to. A flash of something gray dashed by them, followed by some little girl yelling “Fluffy” as she ran after it. Chaucer was gone before Jack even had a moment to process what was happening. One second, the dog was eyeing Jack for lunch or a quick snack and then then next he was gone, in a balls-to-the-wall run after Fluffy.
“Oh no,” Kathy said, her voice a strangled sob. “My mom’s gonna kill me.”
She looked at him with tears swimming in her eyes and he hesitated for a second, about to bolt in the opposite direction. Then he heard that kid calling for her cat, followed by Chaucer’s determined bark. “Shit,” he mumbled, sparing a glance to the heaven’s and the dude up there with a really bad sense of humor. “Thank a lot, man,” he said with a tired sigh.

XxXxXxXxXx

His chucks slapped against the concrete as he made his way down the sidewalk, glancing at each house he passed for any signs of Cujo and the kitty cat. A stitch was forming in his side and he was beginning to regret the cigarettes he’d been smoking every chance he got. He felt old, like Bobby-old, and that was embarrassing. But he couldn’t stop. He had to get that dog and send Kathy on her way.
He found them on the next street over. Chaucer was standing guard at the bottom of a tree, barking up at something perched in the branches. Judging by the way the little girl was staring up at the tree, crying her eyes out, he figured it was Fluffy. Of course it was Fluffy.
Approaching as carefully as he could, he edged up to Chaucer and reached down, grabbing the leash. Chaucer was so focused on the cat, that he didn’t even notice Jack. Kathy quickly appeared, out of breath and wheezing slightly. Jack gave her the leash and she hugged him.
He stood there, not sure what to do. He’d never been hugged by a girl before. Well, there was the blonde in his fantasy, but this was different. Kathy’s frizzy hair was scratching his face and he gave her a half hearted pat on the back because he figured he shouldn’t just stand there like a block of wood. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she kept saying over and over again.
“You’re welcome,” he mumbled and Jack could tell the instant Kathy realized what she was doing, that she’d jumped at him without thinking. She pulled back and cleared her throat, her face a bright shade of red. He’d never seen anyone look so embarrassed before.
“Thank you, Jack,” she whispered.
“You’re welcome,” he repeated. Something tugged on his leg and he looked down. It was the little girl.
“What about Fluffy?” she asked, her bottom lip trembling. Kathy laughed and he groaned, glancing up at the tree and the ball of gray perched up in the middle of it.
“Shit.”

XxXxXxXxXx

“That was very brave of you,” Kathy said as she reached up and pulled a leaf from his hair.
They were walking back to Steve’s – well, Jack was actually limping. He wasn’t that hot at climbing trees to begin with, but he’d surprised himself when he got relatively high pretty fast. He was beginning to think that he wasn’t going to make a complete fool of himself and actually rescue the stupid cat. Fluffy, however, had other plans. Every time he reached out to get the damn cat, it would climb a little higher, inches out of reach.
Just as he was about to give up, the tree gave up for him. The loud crack that sounded was certainly not a good thing and the branch he was braced on gave way and he was on the ground before he knew it, covered in scratches and leaves. He stayed on the ground for several minutes, waiting for the telltale signs of a broken bone or a concussion, but none came. He seemed to have gotten off relatively unscathed. He still didn’t want to get up and was hoping the ground would open up and swallow him whole.
Kathy was fussing over him and the kid was still staring up the tree at her dumb cat. Jack was about to suggest that they set the tree on fire and see how Fluffy liked that, but then the cat chose that moment to climb down on her own. And as though is possessed one hell of a wicked sense of humor and knew that timing was key, the cat stepped right over Jack as he lay bruised and bleeding on the ground, flouncing her ass in his face. The way his luck was going, he wouldn’t have been surprised if the dog decided to take a piss on his head.
Kathy had to help him get up; she winced every time he did and she’d gotten really good at apologizing. The dog even gave him a little sniff and a lick on his hand before yanking on the leash and causing Kathy to stumble. The walk back to Steve’s was a long one.
Brad gave a low whistle as they walked into the garage. “What the hell happened to you?”
Jack grinned and motioned to his companions. “Guys, meet Kathy.” The dog growled, glaring at the strangers. “And Chaucer,” Jack added, rolling his eyes.
“Hi, guys,” Kathy said with a little wave just as Chaucer yanked on his leash, pulling it from her grasp. He headed straight for George and the clarinet.
George let out a high pitched scream as the dog grabbed the clarinet from his hands and ran off with it, through the open garage door. “Mo ... o … o … om!”
The guys laughed and Kathy cried out, “Oh, no. Not again.”

XxXxXxXxXx

“Would you like some coffee with your sugar?” Kathy asked as she watched Jack open half a dozen sugar packets at once and dump them into his drink.
“Oh, right.” Jack shrugged. “I guess I like sugar,” he offered lamely, reaching for the cream.
Kathy had her second chai of the night sitting in front of her, untouched. She’d been in a coffee shop for close to an hour now and had yet to have a sip of anything. She couldn’t shake the premonition that if she reached for her mug, Jack would somehow wind up with it all down the front of him. She’d always been clumsy in his presence and tonight was proving that it was a trait she hadn’t outgrown.
He was stirring his coffee and staring at her in that intense way he had, the one that made her feel like she was being studied. For all she knew, he was figuring out whether or not he had enough change for laundry or a cab home. But she couldn’t help but hope he was really looking at her – her, the klutz from middle school who excelled at causing him headaches and getting him into trouble. The nobody who tried with all her might to be more than just a friendly nuisance to him when they were growing up.
She felt her cheeks betray her and redden under his scrutiny and she decided to tempt fate and take a sip of her drink, just so she’d have something to do, something to distract herself with.
“So,” he said, breaking the silence. “Been a long time.”
She nodded. “Yes, it has.”
He stirred his coffee some more and she took another sip. She couldn’t think of anything to say and she was beginning to wonder if she should have just let him escape when he had the chance. The whole “buy you a coffee” thing was just to be nice and she should have realized he didn’t really mean it. Jack was always doing stuff like that when they were kids and she was always too bullheaded to realize it – too awestruck to get it through her thick skull that cute boys did not normally hang around with losers like her.
“What have you been up to?” he asked, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table.
She studied her mug for a moment, twisting it in the saucer. “Not much. Class. Work. Hanging out with my cat. You?”
“No pets – but I’ve got Bobby.” He laughed and she smiled.
“I remember Bobby,” she said, trying not to make a face. Jack’s brother was always a bit of a jerk to her, brash and loud “Chaucer loved him,” she said, remembering the day her mom’s dog bounded after Jack’s brother and she was sure he was going to have to pull out a gun and shoot the crazy poodle to stop the impending attack. Turns out Chaucer wanted to give Bobby the biggest, sloppiest kiss she had ever seen. Bobby didn’t look particularly happy, but Chaucer was in seventh heaven.
“That dog hated me,” Jack said, shaking his head as he tore open another sugar packet.
“Chaucer hated everyone. Bobby was the first person he didn’t growl at and try to devour,” she explained.
“Kindred spirits.”
“Something like that.”
It got quiet again, but not like before. This quiet wasn’t awkward and she didn’t feel the need to fill it with nonsense. It was nice, just sitting with Jack. He always made her feel more special than she really was.
“What brings you to New York?” she eventually asked.
He leaned back in his chair and ran his hand through his hair, suddenly looking very tired. “It’s a long story.”
She looked at him and chewed on her bottom lip. Something told her it wasn’t an easy story for him to tell. She thought back to her empty apartment, Horatio sitting next to the door, waiting for her to come home. She thought of the presents she had to wrap and mail if she had any hope of them reaching their destinations before New Years. She thought of the mountain of papers she told her professor she’d help him grade and the work that still had to be done on the article she was working on for her freelancing job with the Times. She thought of all of this and then she remembered Jack’s songs and the pain and the sadness she’d heard in them.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said quietly. “I’ve got all night.”

That's all sweethears < 3. Love ya all sfm.


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