Title: It was Safe
Author: Winter Ashby (rosweldrmr)
Disclaimer: Hannah Montana © Michael Poryes, Rich Correll, Barry O'Brien & Disney
Rating: K
Timeline: High school, pre Oliver/Lilly
Summary: The only time Jackson ever seemed content to be quiet, was when he was with Lilly. And the only time Lilly ever seemed to be at home in her own skin is when Jackson was looking at her.
Authors Notes: I wrote this a hella long time ago, and am just now getting around to posting some of these fics. It's just a short angsty piece. I hope you enjoy it.
It was safe.
That's what Lilly told herself.
When she leaned into him on the couch. Miley was making popcorn. And the movie was starting. The title just beginning to show against the blue sky of the opening. But Lilly was already tired. She'd had a long week of pretending she was just a 'well adjusted' to this fame thing as Miley was. But the truth was that sometimes, all the blue wigs and big misadventures were just too draining to do much else than veg out on the weekends.
And that's all it was.
The only reason Lilly would ever let herself close her eyes, head against his shoulder, the smell of his Head-and-Shoulder's shampoo, and the subtle way his shoulder shifted when he breathed.
"Lilly."
"Mmm?" her eyes were already shut when he whispered in her ear. He was warm and safe, and the blankets tangled around her feet was soft. So in the haze between being awake and asleep and Lilly and Lola, it seemed like the most sensible thing, at the moment, to snuggle closer into his chest. Some unconscious tendril of instinct curling her fingers in the fabric of his shirt, but she was already asleep before she could think to much about it, or the way Jackson shifted towards her.
Jackson looked down at her, the way her hair fell across her face, and he smiled. It was a small thing, just a brotherly sort of thing, to lift his arm and let her settle against his chest.
But he knew he'd be lying to himself if he said the way his heartbeat sped up when she twisted her fingers in the hem of his shirt was anything remotely resembling brotherly.
"What're you doing?" Miley hissed when she came back to the kitchen to see Lilly curled up into Jackson's side.
"She fell asleep." He told her, not even bothering to look up.
"Don't take it personally," Miley told him as she gave him a once over, to check for hands, "she's probably thinking about Orlando Bloom."
"Yeah." Jackson laughed, just shallow enough to not wake her.
And Miley was struck with the strange feeling that Jackson's smile had nothing to do with her joke.
"You should probably take her to my room." Miley knew she would be down for the count, if even the aroma of popcorn couldn't wake her. And they'd had a long night anyway.
"Sure." Jackson shifted again, to let Lilly fall into the crook of his elbow.
And Miley watched him, carefully, as he took great care not to move her too much as he lifted her up, one arm under her knees and the other around her back. And the way Lilly clung to his neck and the way Jackson let her. The way he watched her face, in short glances, as he carried her up the steps and down the hall.
And Miley, for as smart as she was, couldn't come up with one compelling reason why she should be as at ease as she was. Because, as a smart girl, she knew there was something there. She'd seen the way Jackson started to watch Lilly. The way he was more protective, the way he was gentle and encouraging with her, the way he seemed to take special interest in her happiness. And the way Lilly would linger, these past few months, whenever Jackson was home. The way she'd disappear to go 'get a snack' and Miley would finally come down half and hour later, to find them, both leaning over the counter, talking quietly.
She knew it was coming a year ago, when she'd had that disturbing dream.
And as she watched Jackson carry Lilly off, in a strange, messed up sort of way, it seemed to fit. Because the only time Jackson ever seemed content to be quiet, was when he was with Lilly. And the only time Lilly ever seemed to be at home in her own skin is when Jackson was looking at her.
When Jackson came back from laying her in Miley's bed, and pulling the comforter up to cover her waist, Miley was still sitting on the couch, eating popcorn, and sort of looking through the TV, like she wasn't really watching it.
"How is it?" He asked as he plopped down next to her, and took a hand-full of popcorn and stuffed it in his mouth.
"Eh." She shrugged, noncommittally, and glanced at him.
"What?" he asked, feeling suddenly self-conscious. Like just a look from his younger sister was enough to make him feel guilty.
"She likes you, you know." She didn't turn to look at him as she said it, but kept her eyes straight ahead.
"Did you tell her that?"
"I'm serious Jackson." She rolled her eyes and he chuckled.
"So am I."
It was the way he said it that did it, made her get that sad sort of feeling she got whenever she caught a glimpse of something more than either of them wanted her to see. Maybe he loved her. Maybe he'd always loved her. As a brother, then as a friend, and now as something more. Maybe he was sad because he thought Miley would never approve, or because Lilly would never date him, out of some sort of misplaced loyalty.
But whatever it was that made Jackson sound like that, Miley knew he didn't deserve it. She loved him, after all, even if he was annoying and disgusting and generally a drain on her life. She loved him, and there wasn't a bone in her body wanted him ever be unhappy.
And she loved Lilly. Like the sister she always wanted.
Even if this was the absolute worst way she could imagine that actually happening, if Jackson really made her happy, that was the only thing that really ever mattered.