Morning comes, and John is raised by his alarm clock insistently reminding him that today is in fact a school day. Fortunately, he actually slept for some hours before his… encounter with Cameron. Because after that, he barely managed to catch a couple hours of rest. Even so, when he walks down the stairs after getting washed and dressed up, he's dragging his feet and stomping on each step. His eyes are bleary and he feels like he's floating. There's a certain haziness and surreal quality to the world that makes it so he's unable to care about his mom's very stern disapproval of the racket he's supposedly making.
Disregarding all etiquette or consideration for others, John walks into the kitchen and lazily pulls a chair to sit down at the table. Its legs produce the most horrendous screeching as they drag along the floor, making his mom and Derek wince comically. The daggers Sarah is staring into him don't escape his notice, but he's too tired to feel remorseful, so he simply drops languidly on the chair and lets his head fall back. A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and he just can't stop it from growing into a full-fledged grin. He loves the reactions he gets out of his mother when he makes her fume. If he knows her, and he does, there will be hell to pay when he comes back from school. There's no point in worrying about that right now, though. He will cross that bridge when he gets there.
"I'm hungry." He mutters toward the ceiling.
Surprisingly enough, John hears the noise of a plate being placed in front of him almost immediately. He begins to straighten up—ready to stop acting like a slob—and barely manages to keep from squealing in surprise when he is abruptly met with Cameron's chest hovering just inches away from his face. Now he's very awake, but since talking right now would probably result in some terrible spluttering, he makes the wise choice of remaining silent and staring ahead. A plan that could seem awfully convenient if he were at all enjoying the look of the cyborg's top as it stretches under the weight of her breasts. Which he's definitely not.
Being what can essentially be considered a trained soldier, John's mind immediately fights through the fog of his baser instincts and begins dismantling the situation in a rational way. How big are her breasts? What are they made of? Are they heavy? They seem heavy enough. How would one feel in his hand if he were to squeeze… He manages to chase the thoughts away and mentally slaps his own forehead. What the hell is he doing? It must be the lack of sleep that is making him lose his mind and behave this way, he quickly decides.
Cameron moves away from him, but it isn't until John hears his mom clearing her throat that his ruminations stop. She's directing a questioning gaze at him, and he realizes it's because he must've been just sitting there like an idiot with a vacant look in his eyes a minute ago. He shrinks in his chair and stares intently toward the door, sort of hoping that maybe a Terminator would storm in and save him from embarrassing his self any further. What was he thinking, staring at Cameron like that? That is exactly the problem, isn't it? He obviously wasn't thinking at all. He mentally sighs as he considers that even if he wanted to, he wouldn't be able to come up with a better plan to make his family situation even more awkward.
As nonchalantly as possible, John turns his eyes toward Sarah again and answers her unspoken question with a shrug and a face that says he wasn't doing anything bad. After a moment that to him feels entirely too long, she finally relents and goes back to eating her breakfast. Wanting to avoid any more embarrassing situations, he opts for burying his face in the plate of food before him. It's almost time for school, anyway, and he's quite hungry after all this hassle.
The plate is piled with scrambled eggs, bacon and sausages, and it smells delicious. Without hesitation, John digs in, and after getting the first taste he can't help stuffing his face with the food. Even though the appearance is not something out of a food commercial—what with the food strewn on the plate just like that—the taste is just what one would expect. He can't help but wonder why Sarah insists on making pancakes so often if she can cook stuff like this. As he swallows each mouthful, John makes sure to vocalize his pleasure in some way or another in an attempt to appease his mother.
He turns to direct a tentative smile at her, and speaks with his mouth still full. "This is good, mom." He says pointing at the plate with his fork.
Predictably enough, Sarah shoots him a death glare. "John Connor. Manners." The small tug at the corners of her lips and the slight crinkling of her eyes don't go unnoticed by him, though. John returns to his plate with a satisfied expression on his face. It might not have been a full smile, but he is making progress. Slowly but surely he will help her mood return to what it was before they met Cameron. After all, it's the least he can do for his mother. What kind of leader or savior would he be if he can't even get his own mom to smile more?
When he's done eating, John leans back on the chair and pats his belly while letting out a happy sigh. He then looks around the table, and for the first time since he started shoveling food into his mouth, he notices that the cyborg is right there with them. She's behind Derek, leaning against the kitchen's counter top, unmoving and completely silent. No matter that the situation is already weird since she almost never joins them—especially if Derek is around—but he also has other reasons for feeling just a tad anxious around her. Personal reasons. Ones that arose last night.
To make matters worse, he also notices that she's staring at him, and has probably been doing it for a while now. Without blinking at all. It unnerves him to no end when she does the falcon gaze thing. Suddenly, he becomes very interested on the design of his plate. He even goes as far as to partially shielding his face with one hand with the excuse of rubbing his forehead. Out of curiosity, he looks furtively through his fingers only to find out that even though some minutes have gone by, she is still staring at him. What a crappy morning this has been. Except for the food, of course.
A few minutes of awkward silence pass like this, with John doing his best to avoid looking at Cameron, until she finally announces that it's time for them to leave for school. Glad for the small reprieve, he stands up stiffly and rushes out of the kitchen with hasty farewells to his mother and uncle. As he grabs his backpack from the living room, John hears Sarah give him her typical safety talk—take care, stay low, remember your exits—and Derek muttering something unintelligible, his mouth obviously stuffed full of food. After acknowledging their parting words with some brief eye contact and a nod, John runs out of the door.
He keeps running for a couple blocks in hopes that Cameron doesn't catch up with him. It's a silly little delusion, of course he knows that she could beat the world record holder of the hundred meter dash, and then carry on at the same speed to beat everyone in a twenty kilometer marathon. Still, he's not ready to look her in the eye, and even less talk about what happened last night—in case she did catch him spying on her—so he clings to the tiny hope that the cyborg won't in fact catch up to him. Alas, she does. In no time at all.
"Why are you running? We're not late." She asks in her perfectly level voice, not at all out of breath after sprinting for two blocks.
John sighs exasperatedly, stops walking and turns sharply toward her. "I was actually hoping to be away from you for a minute." He shakes his head and continues. "I've told you time and again that I hate when you hover."
As he says the words with all the venom he can muster, John notices that even though her face remains expressionless as always, her eyes flicker away from his for just an instant. For a moment, he stares at her in silence, questioning his own eyes. What just happened? What did it mean? Nothing, he answers angrily to himself. He can't keep doing this—hesitating. Killer robots from the future don't waver when told to get lost. End of story. He turns away from those earnest eyes of hers and starts walking again.
"Walk in front of me." John mutters without looking to check if Cameron is there, because he knows she is. A little verbal attack from him has never deterred her, it won't start now. "You know I also hate when you stare holes into the back of my head."
Surely enough she appears in front of him a second later, and his eyes immediately stick to the middle of her back. He can see the clip of her brassiere. Now that he's angry and a bit out of air from the running, his mind actually raises the right questions. Why does she wear such sheer fabrics? Where they don't perfectly stick to the contours of her body, they actually show a glimpse of what is below. Isn't she supposed to be aiming for inconspicuous? He can't imagine guys being able to ignore her that much at all. Or does every girl dress like this?
When he scrutinizes the people around, John notices that there are more kids walking to school and most of them are around his age. He also notices that in fact a lot of the girls wear clothes that look very much like Cameron's. At least to him. Why has he overlooked such an obvious fact? He resolves to be more vigilant right then and there. If his mom finds out how lax he has been, she is going to give him the sermon of a lifetime.
Just to be thorough, John decides to also check if all the girls also wear tight jeans all the time. There are wrinkle marks across the middle of Cameron's thighs, as if her pants had been bunched there for a while. That's as far as his research on female clothing goes. His mind reels at the implication and every other thought is quickly discarded in favor of vivid reminders from last night. The memory of those same pants pulled halfway down her thigh, leaving naked the fair and superbly soft-looking skin, sends a rush of heat through his entire body.
John runs a hand along his forehead to clear the beads of sweat that are beginning to roll down to his brow. Not only is the damn morning sun scorching already but he also jogged for a while, and now this. Then, to top it off, he's becoming angrier with himself by the minute. Almost reflexively, he begins taking deeper breaths and slows his pace a little. If he doesn't calm down a little before getting to school, he has a feeling a tomato will have nothing on the color his face.
Thankfully enough their walk is near its end by the time John begins feeling more at ease. Not wanting to deal with Cameron any more than strictly necessary, he runs ahead of her the moment they cross the school's main gate. Weaving skillfully through the throng of students, he makes his way toward the chemistry classroom, relieved with the comforting knowledge that the cyborg hasn't managed to get into every single one of his classes. Yet. In any case, at least for now he doesn't have to see her every freaking minute of every day.
Classes end early for John since one teacher called in sick, and he doesn't wait a second to escape into the schoolyard, eager to spend some quality time on his own. Away from the classroom and away from Cameron. He makes plans to buy a soda from the cafeteria and to drink it under the nice, cool shade of a tree. Then, just as many other plans of his, it goes up in smoke. As he walks into the cafeteria, he sees the cyborg hanging out with some dude at one of the tables. She's all smiles and being touchy feely with the guy.
Naturally, his first reaction is to turn around and hide around the corner to spy on them. Immediately realizing what he has done, John bangs his head against the wall, wondering once more just what the hell is going on with him today. Is he panicking around her just because of what he saw her do last night? Yeah, that must be it, he has never been like this before today.
With the damage already done, John decides to take the chance to eavesdrop on Cameron. Make your bed and lie on it, as the saying goes. Besides, he never imagined that the cyborg would actually behave like a normal person when being away from him. It makes him curious, since around him she's always so freaking stiff and creepy.
Cameron laughs at something the dude says while touching her arm, and then she reciprocates the touch. It's just plain unsettling to see a Terminator behave so casually, so naturally around a human. For some reason it makes John a little sick in the stomach. He knows what she is, and at least thinks he knows how the machine mind works. But does he? Now he's not so sure.
The whole scene playing before his eyes reminds John of the day he and Cameron met for the first time. She managed not only to fool him with her human act, but—though this is something he would never admit to his mother or uncle—also to ensnare him, if only for that one day. When they talked in that New Mexico school, he had been instantly captivated by the mix of both confidence and cute awkwardness displayed in her every gesture and word. Not to mention the long hair that went down her back in flowing curls and her big brown eyes that seemed so honest, so earnest. Back then, he saw himself dating this girl, and not only to feel like he had a normal life. He craved that outcome with every fiber of his body. Then it all went to hell.
Back in the present, things are somehow still managing to take a turn for the worse. When the guy leans closer to Cameron and tucks a loose lock of hair behind her ear—and she allows it just like that—John is out of his hiding spot and walking toward them before he can even think about what he's doing. His mind is reeling with doubts. Does she really not behave like this around him because there's no need, or is there some other reason? Is it better to have her honesty, or would it be better to live in ignorant bliss? There's a reason why the saying was invented in the first place. And more importantly, is this asshole why she was touching herself last night? At the last thought, John's face becomes flushed, his eyes widen and his jaw tightens, all without him being none the wiser.
"Hey, sis." He calls in the most pleasant tone he can muster while plastering a smile on his face. Never before has a smile felt so forced.
Once Cameron's eyes are on him, they immediately harden and grow colder. Her smile evaporates, too. Learning that any time he is close she reverts back to creepy robot without a second's hesitation makes John feel something in the bottom of his stomach. It doesn't matter right now, though. He angrily pushes the thought to the back of his mind and grabs her hand.
"We need to go." John says. No pleasant tone, no smile. He gives the guy a nod of acknowledgment at the same time he pulls Cameron up.
She allows him—he's aware of that fact—and she doesn't protest or actually hesitate for long, but his temper is in flames. He has no patience to spare for even the blink of an eye, and makes it clear by pulling violently on her hand and repeating his words in a venomous tone for good measure.
John drags Cameron out of the cafeteria, through the hallways, and then across the entire schoolyard paying no heed to the looks they get or the fact that his fake sister may still need to retrieve her books. They begin walking home in the same fashion.
At first, she tries to question him to find out if something has happened back at the safe house. After that fails, she simply inquires about his behavior. Finally, she gives up. By the time they arrive home, John isn't so much angry as he is tired, but still, he is in no mood to talk. Especially not to Cameron, so he pushes her through the front door without a word. For some reason, he can't help feeling like he has dragged in a misbehaving pet that needs to be locked up. Does that make him an asshole since she's not a domesticated animal? Right now he just doesn't feel like caring.
He bounds up the stairs and into his room, leaving the cyborg standing there in the living room.