Hey, y'all! This chapter takes place 2 weeks after the last one, and I'm sorry it's not in Will's POV. I'll do him next. {Wait a minute. That sounded wrong... Still accurate, though. ;)} There is some mild language in this chapter, well, sort of mild. If anyone's offended by the word "cockblock" or its meaning, well, too bad. It's up there. *winks smarmily* Please review!

Disclaimer: The usual... C squared is my GOD.

Chapter: Jem

Jem was sitting in his bedroom, by the window, reading. He was so absorbed that he didn't hear the door open, though he did feel the light touch on his shoulder; in fact, it made him jump.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," the soft female voice said carefully. Jem looked up at her, and there was Belle, smiling down at him, her hair piled on top of her head. "You didn't seem to hear me knock, and then I came in and you still didn't move, so I thought you'd be less freaked out if I touched your shoulder instead of started talking."

"It's fine," he said, waving his hand in an accepting gesture. "So is there anything I can help you with?"

She sat in the chair across from him and affected an indignant expression. "Why do you automatically assume I want something?"

He raised his eyebrows in a "well?" sort of way, making her scowl. "Okay, I was wondering…"

She reached around to the bag she had on her back, pulling out a small book. Jem twisted his head to read the title: A Midsummer Night's Dream. "You're reading Shakespeare?"

"I'm trying, but poetry isn't exactly my strong suit. Would you be able to help me?"

Jem nodded and took the play, opening it to the page Belle had marked. He scanned the page, asking, "Why wouldn't you go to Will for this sort of thing? He's the resident poetry expert."

"We aren't on very good terms at the moment, not after… well, it doesn't matter why, but we just aren't getting along right now."

Jem nodded again. It wasn't that he didn't want to know, but if Belle didn't want to tell him, he wouldn't force it out of her. She would tell him if and when she wanted to. "So should we start here?"

An hour later, Belle was finally starting to understand. She was rather impatient, easily frustrated, but Jem just spoke in a soothing tone of voice and kept encouraging her, and eventually she began to get it right. "So the king of the faeries is pissed because his wife won't give him this little kid?"

"Exactly," Jem smiled.

"You can't own a child!"

"This was Shakespeare's time. You could do whatever you wanted back then. I'm quite pleased you're getting the hang of it, though." Before he could say anything else, Church showed up and jumped into Belle's lap; she yelled in alarm.

"What is this?"

"It's a cat. I should think you'd know that."

She took a deep breath. "I know it's a cat, Jem. It just surprised me."

"Actually, "it" is a "he." His name is Church."

Belle regarded the blue-grey Persian with a weak sort of affection. "Hello, Church." Their eyes met, bright yellow and emerald green, and they came to an accord. The cat settled in her lap, and Belle turned back to Jem. "Sorry, it's just… cats and I don't always get along. I suppose that's why he's here. Cats always seem to cling to the ones they know don't like them, right?"

"It would seem so, but how could you not like him? He's ever so lovable."

"Well, so am I, but I don't crawl in your lap." Unfortunately, Jem caught himself thinking. Oh, Angel, I can't believe I just thought that. I'm turning into Will. "Anyway, I think we'll get along, right, Church?"

The cat meowed, and Jem laughed. "He really is a very intelligent animal."

"Is he?" Belle scooted her chair closer to Jem's, and he swallowed, hard. That she still had that power to make his heart race like that, that nervousness still flooding his veins, made him feel strangely good. It was true that they had only known each other for two and a half weeks, had only been officially "together" for a little over two weeks, but it felt like so much longer. It had been two weeks to the day they had faced down Camille, or rather since Belle faced her down; Jem had just held the witchlight. That was the day that Magnus had almost let it slip, something that Jem hadn't even wanted to admit to himself: the fact that he thoroughly believed he had fallen in love with Belle. He had of course never told her, as it did seem much too soon.

His thoughts were broken when something moderately heavy landed on his lap. He let out a surprised noise. "Angel, Church, you're getting heavy." Church snorted indignantly, and Belle giggled.

"I do believe he's regarding you as inferior to himself."

"I believe it. Cats believe they're superior to everyone." He looked back into Belle's curious face, her wide green eyes bright with a spark of something, her cheeks flushed the same pale pink as a rose. They apparently had the same idea, because they leaned in and were about six inches apart when Jem's bedroom door burst open with a crash. The two quickly pulled away.

Will stood in the doorway looking like an avenging angel, all pretty face, blazing blue eyes and fists clenched at his side. He looked furious, though Jem couldn't imagine why. When he spoke, his voice was even, if a bit sharp.

"Jem, you're wanted downstairs."

Jem nodded. "I'll be down in a moment. If you could wait in the hall for a moment?"

Though he looked like there was nothing he would like less, Will turned and left, leaving the door open a crack.

"Cockblock," Belle muttered, and Jem choked.

"What?"

"That's the term for it. Cockblocking."

"The term for what, exactly?" Jem realized he sounded mildly alarmed, and he was a bit frightened to know what Belle was talking about.

"A cockblock is the general term for something that keeps a guy from getting some."

"Getting some what?"

Belle sighed, but smiled despite herself. "You are far too innocent in the ways of the world, my dearest James. 'Getting some' is a term for having sex, though in this context it refers to a kiss."

"Oh." Jem could feel his face heat up, and even more so after Belle spoke again.

"For example, your cat seems to have much the same idea." Church was standing, so to speak, on his back legs with his front paws resting on Jem's chest. His fluffy head was pressed to Jem's chin, effectively blocking Belle from giving Jem a kiss.

"James, are you coming, or must I drag you from the room?" Will's voice echoed from the hallway. Jem sighed, standing and handing the cat to Belle, who took him with a mildly horrified expression. At the first chance she placed him on Jem's vacated chair, making Jem laugh again. "Good luck with him."

Instead of answering, Belle shot a quick glance at the door to make sure Will wasn't watching. She kissed Jem fiercely for but a moment, slipping out the door like a memory; she might not have been there at all if not for her distinctive scent of orange blossoms and something smokier.

Belle's voice came, loud and mocking. "He's all yours, sir." Jem could almost see her saluting Will with him shooting her an annoyed glare. He left the room, and sure enough, Will was leaning against the wall, looking irritated beyond belief. "What's wrong with you?" Jem asked, concerned, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. As expected, he shook off the touch, but he didn't start yelling, as Jem half-feared.

"I'm fine. Are you?" That was unexpected, but Will was inspecting Jem's face with keen eyes. "Did you take your– medicine– today?"

"Yes, Will. Goodness, this concern is most unlike you. Are you sure you're feeling quite all right?"

Soundlessly Will turned and stalked away, heading down the stairs with Jem following him. I should have expected nothing else. At least I know he cares.

Of course he cares!