Okay, so I know an anon asked me for post-Vegas reunion sex, but I kinda have a post-Vegas Jatie already, and well, I know it's not really what anyone asked for, but here's a little New Years Jatie! Hope it's alright. xo
Now
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.
"Do you think you'll make it home?" he asks, just bitterly enough so that she'll feel guilty.
"I'm sorry," she says. "I want to, Jake, but I just can't."
He doesn't feel (that) bad hanging up.
-x-
.
.
He doesn't say I love you.
But he grabs her arm when a car whizzes around the corner
he gets her a hamburger; everything on it except onions, pickles, and mayo
he keeps the apartment warm - windows closed - so the cold can't clench up her muscles
he puts three sweetners in her tea
he tells her to hurry back
He doesn't say I love you, but he hasn't changed the sheets since the last time she visited.
-x-
.
.
She works, and he works, and he wonders how they'll ever have a baby.
If, he corrects himself. If.
-x-
.
.
He buys her a book – I fucking love you, I've wanted this for ages! Thank you! – and he forgets about the limbo she'd been keeping him in: am I with you out of love or habit?
-x-
.
.
Habit, he thinks, when she doesn't say anything about the notes he left in the pages.
-x-
.
.
Guilt, when she calls and says that she's sorry and misses him, but just know, I'm always thinking of you.
-x-
.
.
Love, he knows, when she's bouncing on his chest, his name on her lips as if it's the only word she's ever known.
-x-
.
.
Habit, he fumes, as she cancels again.
-x-
.
.
"The guy I marry had better be a gourmet chef, because I'm not fucking cooking," she smirks as if he isn't there, as if he hadn't told her that he was perfectly content to let her be the hotshot at work while he finishes early to pick up the kids (in so many words, anyway).
-x-
Now
.
.
"Happy New Years," he hears her whisper; feels the bed dip as she snuggles against his back, wrapping her arm over his shoulder and leaning close to kiss his neck.
He can't help it; he starts to cry. Raw, burning, and sharp…the tears are almost painful – like he'd forgotten how.
"Hey," he whispers, and she breathes in his hair.
"Surprise," she laughs softly, and a wave of nostalgia rolls over her so suddenly that she can't help the tears either.
"I wish I could've kissed you at midnight," he smiles in between kisses.
"Well," she winks, undoing her buttons, "we can still start this year off with a bang."
"That was horrible," Jake says low, "your worst pun yet. You might have to leave."
"Good to be home," Katie smirks, kissing his nose.