They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes after she pulled the car out of the parking structure, Jack suggesting gently that she turn the radio on. She raised her hand, hovering uncertainly in front of the collection of knobs adorning the dash, her fingers fluttering in the air as she tried to decide which one to flick.
She tested out a few with little effect, frowning slightly as she glanced back and forth between the road and her fingers. Jack reached up helpfully knocking her hand away, a little tingling sensation where his skin met hers. Wordlessly he turned the large knob on the left, tuning in to a local station.
She drew away from him, tucking her free hand in her lap. She glanced at Jack from the corner of her eye, a shaky little breath the only thing giving away her nerves. "Um, Peter…. well, he doesn't like other people driving his car…" She trailed off, her statement sounding suspiciously like a question. "I mean, we live close enough…"
He wasn't going to save her from the awkward lull in the conversation, more certain now than ever that Lucy was deserving of his suspicions. She sighed, her shoulders slumping as they drew near the hospital. "Peter and I…. you see, we…" She was stammering, a slight flush creeping up her neck as she studiously avoided looking at him. "We haven't gone out much." The words spilled out in a rush.
The embarrassment oozing from her every pore washed over Jack in a wave. Had Peter made her feel like he was hiding her? That son of a bitch. Well, not exactly a son of a bitch, they were brothers after all, but still. Why would Peter do that to a girl like Lucy? She was beautiful, and had never displayed anything other than caring kindness toward all the people he'd seen her interact with. Jack suddenly felt guilty, for thinking so vehemently that she wasn't his brother's type, playing into the same thing that had obviously caused her pain in the past. "Peter can be an idiot."
She smiled, not glancing over at him again, the flush on her cheeks diffusing over the delicate skin of her ears, a little chuckle escaping her. The sound set Jack's stomach to churning, pleasure thrumming through his veins. Making Lucy laugh could easily turn into a full time occupation if he let it. Finally she hazarded another glance at him, this time catching his admiring stare. He cleared his throat sheepishly. "Um, I mean, when he's not lying in a coma in the hospital on Christmas." He ran his hand through his hair, feeling like an idiot. "I guess I gotta cut the guy some slack, head injury and all."
She dipped her head to hide the broad smile flashing across her face. "Peter's a good egg sometimes." They pulled into the parking structure alongside the hospital. "We've arrived, and without incident I'm proud to say. I can't even remember the last time I drove a car."
Jack's eyebrows shot up. "Are you kidding? I could have driven. Do you even have a license?"
She shrugged, ignoring his shocked expression as she scooted out of the driver's seat, heading straight for the hospital entrance. He scrambled after her, slamming the door behind him. She glanced over her shoulder at his advancing figure. "Of course I have a license… somewhere. I used to drive everywhere back in Wisconsin, but when I moved here, I sold my car. The public transit system here is ace." She grinned at him. "I would know, too."
He shoved his hands in his pockets, fighting the urge rest his palm protectively along her lower back as they crossed the street. "Yeah, but that means a lot of walking, and this is Chicago, it can get dangerous at night."
Her little smile faltered just a little. "I can take care of myself, Jack. I've been doing it long enough."
"Of course." They slipped into the elevator, Jack punching the button before she could. He was quiet. He didn't like that Lucy had to take care of herself, not that she couldn't. Obviously she'd been doing just fine, but how had Peter not been concerned with these things? Sure, she didn't need someone to take care of her, but how could Peter not want to do it anyway?
They lapsed into silence again, both staring at the numbers as they lit up. The elevator suddenly seemed impossibly small. they were standing close, too close. He could see the smooth skin of her neck just under the collar of her coat, the flyaways framing her face falling down to brush against her lightly fluttering pulse. Jack felt warm under the collar and unzipped his coat. The doors slid open before he could come up with something to say, something to diffuse the tension around them. She strode out into the hall, oversized trench coat flaring around her as she glanced back at him. "Let's go get drained of our vital fluids." She was smiling again, much to Jack's relief, and he followed her out into the hall.
He groaned, belatedly remembering his aversion to needles. "There are far more pleasant ways to accomplish that."
Her eyes widened, and he snapped his mouth shut. Shit. Now he was thinking of those infinitely more pleasant ways, unable to shake the image of her flushed skin from his mind. He stammered, his fingers once again finding their way into his hair, but she merely laughed, flouncing away from him.
Was he drunk? No, this wasn't that kind of wooziness, although there was a creeping grayness around the edges of his vision which was distinctly reminiscent of staring down the second half a good sized bottle of tequilla. This wasn't the same thing. First of all, there was a sweet, definitely not drunk brunette sitting to his left. Second of all, these weren't bar stools they were perched on, but rather half inclined hospital beds, and (even though he dare not look, for fear of crossing the line between consciousness and blackness) he was pretty sure there was a needle sticking in his forearm. Why was he doing this?
He heard Lucy's soft laugh and cautiously opened his eyes once more. She wasn't totally unaffected by their hematological past-time. There was a far off look in her eyes, and she was smiling like a small child who'd just been given a very large lollipop. "Jack, I really like your family."
He sighed, unable to hang on to his former suspicion. There was fog around him, and he struggled to walk through it. "It likes you too… I mean, we…" He trailed off.
"The whole family?" She suddenly looked shy, and he wanted more than anything in the world to reach across the gap between their beds and sweep the hair out of her face, to run his rough hands along the soft skin of her cheek. Instead he just nodded.
She smiled, letting out a little hum before her eyes drifted shut. "You too, Jack?"
Her voice was genuinely unsure, the question hanging in the air between them. Of course he liked her. He liked her too much, more than a brother should like his future sister-in-law. In fact, 'like' was probably the wrong word. "Yeah… Peter's lucky to have found you."
She brought her thumb up to her mouth, worrying at the nail. There it was again, that typical nervousness whenever Peter's name came up. Jack was at a loss for it's cause. "We'll have to get your picture, for the mantle." Even though he'd been fighting it, she'd quickly become a part of the family.
She looked at him sharply, tearing her gaze away from her hands. "O-of me?"
"No, of you and Peter."
She smiled, bashfully once again, a little thrill of happiness running through her. His throat tightened a little, as she shook her head. "I-I'm not that… photogenic." She laughed a little, averting her gaze from his.
He was swimming again, feeling light headed as her laugh tinkled in his ears. Just how much blood had they siphoned off of him? He stole another glance, taking in the curve of her smile, her sooty lashes splayed against the creamy skin of her cheek when she blinked. Unphotogenic? How ridiculous. "I doubt that." The words came out quietly, and if she heard them she pretended not to.
The edges were getting gray again, and now his suspicion of her was fueled by an entirely different motivation. He didn't want her to be Peter's fiance. He didn't want her to be anything to his brother. Even if it meant discovering some nefarious scheme, or something more innocent yet still unpleasant. He didn't care, as long as it meant she wasn't Peter's. He opened his mouth to interrogate her, but a white wall in the form of a nurse's back blocked his line of vision. "Alright, now I want you to sit here and sip this, or you'll get woozy."
The nurse's loud instructions clanged against his ears. God, who knew giving blood on an empty stomach resulted in such a hangover-like state? He shook himself, his vision filling with Lucy once again. "When did you start seeing Peter?"
He couldn't even muster the self awareness to realize his question was a bit invasive, instead just staring at her as she concentrated on the tiny paper cup in her hands. "September 17th."
He'd hardly expected her to be so specific. His blood deprived brain struggled to calculate how long that meant she'd been seeing his brother. "Three months… that's quick."
"You have no idea." She downed whatever was in the little cup, pushing away from the hospital bed, her balance still a little off, startling the nurse as she snuck away.
"Th-that's fast… too f.." He was referring to how quickly she'd downed her drink, specifically ignoring the nurse's instructions, but he also thought it was too fast for Peter to propose. If anyone could be called a commitaphobe, Peter would have proudly displayed the title. Even Jack didn't believe in falling in love so quickly, at least he hadn't in the past.
He scrambled off the bed, ignoring the protests of the nurse beside him. Obviously Lucy didn't enjoy talking about Peter, and Jack wanted to push the point, wanted her to admit the truth to him, whatever that may have been.
He grabbed his jacket, chasing after Lucy. He was able to take three steps before the gray edges around his vision crept across his eyes. The last thought before he collapsed onto the green tile, was that he was pretty sure the fluttering in his chest was getting stronger, and it had nothing to do with blood loss.