Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize THEY own ME. :)
Jane set her bag down on Kurt's bed and rummaged through it, looking for something clean to sleep in. Make that anything clean to sleep in. No, it appeared that she was going to have to choose from various degrees of dirty clothes, but nothing that was actually clean. Somehow they'd put lots of snow-drenched clothes in the dryer in Clearfield, but hadn't actually washed anything. Without realizing it, she sighed heavily, pushing her hair behind her ear and glaring at the contents of her bag.
Kurt was moving slowly around the room. Jane had set down his two small bags on the bed as well, and he'd leaned down just enough to check the contents and see what needed to come out, and what could stay in there at least until tomorrow. At that moment, all he could think about was that the less details he tried to deal with, the sooner he could lie down. Putting things away could wait.
When he heard Jane sigh, he looked up in surprise, suddenly pulled from his thoughts. She was looking at the contents of her bag with hostility. It only took a second before he made the connection between what he saw in front of him and her comment earlier about not having anything clean. Moving slowly to his dresser, he opened several drawers and removed what he needed, closing them again carefully. All of his movements were slow and deliberate, since he hoped to avoid straining anything unnecessarily.
Jane's head had fallen down almost against her chest, and she was staring at her bag with increasing frustration, not wanting to admit defeat yet again. This wasn't quite "zipper in the locker room" level breakdown inducing, but it wasn't too far from it. Logically, she knew that it wasn't an insurmountable problem, and something in the back of her mind whispered to her that she should simply ask for help… but the idea was so new to her, that her first instinct was still to fight that thought until she had no choice but to give in in defeat.
He walked up beside her and simply held out the things he'd taken out of his dresser for her – a clean t-shirt and a pair of boxers. At first she didn't acknowledge him, since her vision had tunneled to only one narrow area in front of her. Only when he held the clothing directly in her line of vision did she look up at him, a small but grateful smile on her face.
"I can't guarantee the boxers will fit," he said quietly. "Actually, there's a good chance they won't…" he added, looking down at her. She wore baggy clothes to hide her too-thin frame, but when he looked closely, he could see how much skinnier she was than she had once been. Not wanting her to feel like he was criticizing her, or to make her feel more self-conscious about something that he already knew was a sensitive subject, he added quickly, "But I'm not going to complain if your pants fall down…" He grinned at her, trying to make a joke out of it because he knew how much the subject of eating bothered her, and he felt like there was little else he could do to help.
She rolled her eyes good naturedly at him, grinning against her will as she turned to face him. "I would punch you, but that might be considered mean since you just had surgery," she told him. Looking at him thoughtfully for a few seconds, she asked, "What should I do instead?"
"Definitely no punching," he told her, wrapping his arms around her slowly. "I'm not going to be up for sparring anytime soon, unfortunately."
"I'll go easy on you," she promised, her arms already just barely encircling his lower back. She was afraid to hold on too tight, even though it felt strange to be so gentle. What felt like much too soon, she let her arms fall back to her sides and said, "Thank you, for the clothes. You should get ready for bed first. You've been on your feet for a long time now. Aren't you exhausted?"
"I am, actually," he said, nodding in agreement. Taking a small bundle of clothes, he made his way slowly out of the room, into the living room and toward the bathroom. She watched him go, smiling unconsciously, and then pushed the door halfway closed before quickly changing into the shirt he'd just given her. It was just the perfect amount of "too big," what other women might have described as a boyfriend shirt. Jane may have as well, if she even remembered that concept – which she didn't, of course. The boxers, on the other hand, were too big, just as Kurt predicted. However, as she was scanning the room absently, trying to find a solution to the problem, she spotted a safety pin on his dresser. She plucked it from where it sat, fastening it in the center of the back and thus securing her new "shorts." She dropped the outfit that she had just taken off into her bag, along with the rest of her dirty clothes.
A minute later, there was a knock on the half closed door, and Kurt slowly peeked around the corner. "You mean I missed it?" he asked, pretending to be disappointed when he saw that she had already changed her clothes. Jane stuck out her tongue at him, smiling gleefully.
"Afraid so," she replied, shaking her head. "You're going to have to get faster, Weller." There wasn't a hint of awkwardness in their good-natured, joking conversation about the idea that he should have been faster so that he could have watched her change, because to Jane, it was by now a given that he wouldn't do anything that would make her uncomfortable if there was a way to avoid it.
Kurt sighed, pretending to be sorely disappointed. That was when Jane noticed that he had changed into his pajama pants, but was still wearing the same shirt. Of course, she realized. He needs help with the shirt. She walked towards him and in seconds she was standing directly in front of him once again, smiling without even realizing it just because of their proximity to each other.
"Hey, why aren't your pants falling down?" he asked, again feigning disappointment and tugging gently at the bottom of the left side. His finger brushed against her leg ever so slightly before his hand moved back to his side, and he shook his head sadly, sighing, and adding, "This really isn't my day."
"The magic of safety pins," Jane told him with a smile.
"Safety pins?" Kurt asked incredulously. "But we've always been friends until now… What did I do to them to deserve their revenge?"
"Very funny," she grinned at him, stepping even closer.
"That stuff looks good on you," he told her. He couldn't help but feel a certain unexpected warmth in his chest at the sight of her wearing his clothes.
Glancing down, she felt herself blushing a little bit as she raised her eyes again slowly. "The shirt is comfortable," she replied, "I like it."
"Well, I have lots more where that came from," he told her with a smile. He stopped short of saying that he'd be more than happy for her wearing his clothes to be a regular occurrence, but he was definitely thinking it. As he looked into her eyes, he had a feeling that he wasn't the only one.
Studying his face intently, she could see just how tired he looked then. "You need some help getting changed, right?" she asked.
"Yep, I do," he told her. "Are you available?"
"For you? Always," she replied sweetly. "But can you please sit down? You have a little bit of a height advantage."
"Fair enough," he agreed, stepping towards the bed and turning so that he could sit down. He lowered himself slowly onto the bed, his knees slightly apart, his eyes locked on her and a smile on his face. He was definitely not feeling uncomfortable about having her help him, the way she had been about having him help her.
Feeling as though she was being pulled by a magnet, she stepped towards him. Her eyes were also locked on his, and all of a sudden she found herself standing between his knees. Suddenly, she didn't know where to start, and simply laid her hands lightly on his shoulders while she thought about her plan of action. What felt like a jolt of electricity ran from her hands, through the rest of her body, and her moved her thumbs absently back and forth across his shoulders as she tried to steady herself.
"Okay… I don't want to hurt you…" she told him uncertainly, momentarily unsure of the best way to start. After all, she'd only had to help him put his shirt on, so far, not take it off… not that she wasn't more than willing to help him out in that department, of course…
"This might be the hard part," she told him. She tugged gently at the bottom edge of his shirt, lifting both sides enough that she could see the bandage around his midsection, then focusing solely on his right side, lifting it slowly higher on the side and, with the other hand, reaching around to his back. It was almost as good as giving him a hug, as for a few seconds she almost had her arms around him. "Just tell me if it hurts…" she said doubtfully, moving even more slowly and deliberately than Kurt had been earlier. He smiled up at her, his eyes never leaving her face, and nodded.
He moved his right arm closer and closer to his side, slowly bending his elbow and trying to get it out through the arm hole. Finally, between the two of them, they succeeded in freeing his arm from his shirt with less pain than he'd expected. Really, he would have described it more as strain than actual pain. They both smiled gleefully at their success, as Jane's left hand skimmed along the skin of his upper arm to move his shirt further toward his neck. He was surprised by this gentle touch, but he certainly had no complaints. A few seconds later, he reminded himself to breathe after momentarily forgetting.
After her left hand had pushed his shirt over his shoulder, again without quite realizing what she was doing, Jane flattened her hand on his bare right shoulder, pushing it under the bunch of fabric slightly, moving her hand towards his neck. He was surprised, but in the best way possible. To his amusement, he could see the moment when she also realized that her hand was laying against his skin, and she seemed even more surprised than she was.
She felt herself blushing, because, well... she hadn't even realized that she was touching his shoulder. It was innocent, of course, but it was also very different from holding his hand. He clearly didn't mind, she could tell, because he was still smiling up at her. If anything, she would have ventured to say that his smile was even more intense now than it had been before. Sliding her hand under the now loose fabric on his right shoulder, she moved it slowly to the back of his neck, now very much aware of what she was doing and keeping her eyes glued to his. In return, his eyes seemed to be locked on hers, and for a second they simply stared at each other. When his smile intensified, that just made her smile widen as well.
"I think you're distracting me," she told him softly.
"Sorry," he grinned.
"No, you're not," she chuckled.
"Nope," he agreed, "not at all."
Shaking her head at him, she forced herself to remember the reason she was standing there so close in front of him, lifting the left side of his t-shirt carefully. This side was much easier, since his right side had already been freed from the fabric, so a few seconds later his left arm was also out of the shirt, leaving only his head still inside. Within seconds, his hands sat lightly on her waist, since they no longer had work to do.
Their eyes met again, his smile seeming to ask her, Is this okay?
Her smile replied, Yes, better than okay.
Her fingers skimmed his skin, her hands starting on his shoulders and moving up to his neck again, this time sliding inside the neck hole of his t-shirt, her fingers gently pulling the soft fabric a little wider so that the shirt wouldn't have to pull too hard going over his head. Keeping the fabric stretched as much as she could, she brought it slowly over his head until it was clear, letting it fall beside him on the bed. Now without a task to complete, her arms came to rest on his shoulders, her hands clasping loosely as they dangled in the air behind his head
"That was a lot of work for a t-shirt," he observed.
"It was," she agreed, never really having thought that it couldbe so tricky to get a shirt off.
"Maybe I should just skip putting another one on, and save us a step in the morning…?" His tone was somewhere between an observation and a question, a helpful suggestion with a rise in the intonation at the end that made it clear that he wasn't implying that it had been decided. There was a hint of playfulness in his tone, but at the same time, she knew that he wouldn't have been upset if she'd said no, because… well, because Kurt was nothing if not respectful of how she felt. The last thing he wanted to do was to make her uncomfortable, and she knew it. "Unless you'd rather…"
"Makes sense to me," she told him with a smile. She stood there for a few seconds, just looking down at him, once again overcome with the fact that he was there, and with how lucky she was that things had gone the way they had, especially in the last twenty-four hours.
It could have easily been so different… she thought suddenly, feeling the familiar panic return out of nowhere.
"Hey," he said, watching her expression change and sensing that her thoughts were going somewhere less desirable, "go get ready for bed. Then come back here. Okay?" In his head he had added Come back here to me, but he didn't want to come on too strong.
Focusing on him again, she smiled, leaning down to rest her forehead against his for a second, feeling her heart skip a beat with relief that he was there in front of her as she did, and flinching slightly.
When she didn't move, he stood up slowly, pulling his arms around her a little more tightly as they moved higher up to encircle her around the middle of her back, the highest he could reach his arms up just then. After a few seconds of holding onto each other, which had been exactly what she hadn't realized that she'd needed, she felt his arms fall slowly back to his sides, and she reluctantly let hers do the same.
"Hurry up," he told her, walking slowly around to the other side of the bed and moving the covers back so that he could climb under them. She picked up the two bags from the bed and sat them out of the way on the floor, then took her toiletries bag and left the room to make her way to the bathroom.
It felt strange to be here again, crashing at his apartment. So much had happened since the last time, and yet it was still less than a week ago. It felt like weeks, at least, if not months ago. She felt the slightest flutter of anxiety when she said the words in her head – Staying over at Kurt's place – but looked up in the mirror and reminded herself that the reality of where she was and what was happening didn't bother her, only the words… and the words weren't what was important. What was important was that she felt safe with him, wherever they were. While she didn't sleep completely without nightmares quite yet, she slept infinitely better with him by her side… and when she did have a nightmare, he was right there. At least, when she didn't go out wandering in the snow, of course.
Reminding herself that she had only to finish getting ready before she could go back and see him again, she finished up in the bathroom quickly, leaving her toiletries bag there. It felt strange, but in a good way – once again, the words staying over at Kurt's place flashed through her head, and she imagined the knowing looks from the rest of the team.
Except that they know you're staying over here, remember? the voice in her head reminded her. That was as much a part of their plan as the one you and Kurt made. They knew that you would refuse to be talked out of staying by his side, so they didn't even suggest otherwise. Not even in the hospital. She walked back to the bedroom with an unconscious smile, one that only grew when she reached the doorway and paused when she saw him look up at her.
"What took you so long?" he asked. When she looked at him in confusion, he added, "I know, I'm impatient. Come here." He patted the spot on the bed beside him, the side of the bed closest to the door. It was such a simple gesture, but something about it made her so very happy. After turning off the light with the switch on the wall beside where she stood, which left the room lit only by the faint glow of the TV that Kurt had turned on, she walked forward with a smile. That night almost a week ago, she'd sat down nervously on the bed to watch TV and keep him company while he packed. This time, she slid the covers back slowly – not quite nervously, more very aware of what she was doing – and slid deliberately under the blankets.
This bed was, of course, much bigger than the one in Clearfield, being a queen size compared to a twin, and she found that even after scooting herself towards him, there was still what felt like a lot of space between them. He was sitting back against the headboard, propped up with two pillows behind his back for support, as he had been in the hospital.
"I got so used to small beds, between Clearfield and the hospital, I forgot to move over towards the middle," he chuckled, noticing the distance just as she had. "And now I'm kind of stuck where I am. I can't really turn sideways for a while, sadly," he lamented, wishing he could turn more than just his shoulders partially towards her.
"No problem," she said, moving closer to him until, as she lay on her left side, she could lean her head against his right shoulder.
"Much better," he said approvingly, turning his head toward her and leaning down until his face rested against the top of her head once again. "You ready to go to sleep?" he asked her, fairly sure he knew the answer.
"There's a good chance that the answer is yes," she mumbled into his shoulder tiredly. She may not have been the one who needed sleep because she'd been injured, as he had, but she'd barely slept at all the night before, and her complete and utter exhaustion was now catching up with her.
He chuckled, pressing Off on the TV remote, which he'd turned on while he'd waited for her, setting it on the bedside table and then slowly and carefully scooting himself down under the covers. When she felt him move, she lifted her head back off of his shoulder, watching and waiting until he was done moving. When he stopped, his back was flat against the mattress, his head now resting on one pillow and the other tossed off to the side.
"It's a little awkward to sleep on my back like this," he observed quietly, in the now darkened room. "It's not as good as being able to turn sideways and snuggle with you."
"Yeah," she said slowly. "But I'll take it." She felt her emotions once again surging dangerously closely beneath the surface, and she told herself that she was not going to cry – again – when everything was absolutely fine. No, better than fine. Kurt was alive and lying next to her, so close that she could touch him. They weren't in his childhood twin bed or a hospital or anywhere else associated with pain or drama or struggle. He was injured, but he would recover, just like she was still doing. Her injuries were different, and most of the ones she still suffered from even now weren't physical, but in some ways it was the same thing. Besides, he had some of those, as well.
When it came down to it, they needed each other in order to heal completely – he was what had been missing for her, though she'd told herself that she had been fine before. Really, she'd known all along that she wasn't fine, but had simply tried to convince herself otherwise because she never thought that the two of them would get another chance. Thankfully, life was full of surprises.
He heard her breath catch on her last few words, and he knew what she was thinking. It was easy to figure out, because he couldn't help but think the same thing. Really, he'd been thinking it every few minutes since they'd gotten back to his place. I'm so lucky, he told himself. Both because of how things have gone with Jane, and because I'm even alive. That we're both alive, really, after everything we've been through. The fact that we're both here…
His whole life, Kurt had never considered himself lucky. How could he? His mother hadn't loved him enough to even stay in his life, his best friend had been abducted and he was pretty sure that his father had killed her… All by the age of ten, and things hadn't really gotten better from there. No, to say that he'd never felt lucky was something of an understatement. Now, with everything they'd been learning about his past, it had begun to feel like cursed was a more appropriate adjective for his life than lucky. But in that particular moment, he felt like the luckiest man in the world.
Bending his right elbow, he brought his arm up between them, clasping her left hand in his. The angle was slightly awkward, but again, neither of them cared about that at all. The important thing was that they were both there. This was so much more comfortable than the hospital, especially for Jane, that it was hard to find anything to complain about. On the contrary, they smiled so hard they both felt slightly ridiculous, both of them now slightly giddy from the combination of exhaustion and elation.
Keeping his fingers interlocked with hers, he tugged their hands toward her cheek, moving his knuckles across her skin without letting go of her hand. He could feel her smile at the gesture, and was rewarded when she turned her head to kiss the back of his hand as he turned their hands and brought them to a stop against her cheek.
Next, she turned her head upwards, so that she was looking up at him beside her, and scooted herself farther up still so that she was at eye level with him, his head already turned toward her. Without missing a beat, he leaned forward and kissed her, slowly at first, but just a little more determinedly as the minutes wore on. Finally, when they needed air, they moved apart slowly, retreating back just far enough for their noses to touch.
Once again, the rush of emotion threatened to overtake her, and it was with great effort that she kept her face from showing it. Or so she thought, until she saw his expression soften as he watched her.
"I know," he whispered simply.
His words had taken her by surprise, and she felt her composure quickly slipping away all of a sudden. Tears pricked her eyes, and her head fell down against him as she felt all the air in her lungs seem to be forced out at once, emptying her completely before she could manage to take another breath. She felt his hand squeeze hers, and she breathed in deeply, trying to steady herself. It took a few more deep breaths, in and out, but she managed to get herself back under control.
She felt him kiss the top of her head, and she smiled despite every other conflicting emotion inside her. She'd always wanted to believe that it was all going to be okay, but it had always been so hard to imagine it. It was easier here, now… with him. Somehow the fact that they had come through the fire and that they now seemed to be on the other side, and stronger than ever, made her think that the okay that he had promised her might be possible after all. No, they could do better than okay. So much better, she wasn't even sure what to call it. Her last thought as she began to drift off to sleep was that she didn't think there was even a word for what she was feeling, not in any of the languages that she knew. Nothing seemed like enough.
He felt her begin to relax against him, and was pleasantly surprised when he felt her right hand move carefully across his chest, coming to rest over his heart… just as it had when they'd been in cramped hospital bed. This time there was no t-shirt fabric between them, though the bottom half of her palm did happen to rest on the bandage that was wrapped around the middle of him. Still, the feeling of her hand flat against his skin was a sensation that he liked even more than he had expected, despite the fact that it simply sat there, not moving. His left hand came up to cover hers, holding it there. Once again, words were unnecessary between them, but the message was clear.
"Good night, Jane," he whispered quietly, his face once again against her hair.
"Mmmhhhmmmm," she mumbled, already too close to sleep to form words.
Kurt wanted to stay awake a little longer, just to enjoy the sensation of lying in his bed with Jane beside him, but his exhaustion and the medication he was taking had other plans for him. To his annoyance, he felt his eyes closing against his will, and it was only another minute or so before he stopped fighting it, knowing that it would do no good, and let his eyes close.
With his last conscious thought for the day, he reminded himself that he didn't need to lament the loss of this chance to enjoy lying there next to her, because – he was fairly sure – there would be another chance to do it again the next day. Beyond the next day, there was yet another weekend that he would spend with her, and if she didn't get pulled back in by work too quickly the following week, even more time beyond that. It occurred to him then that for the first time, he was looking forward to the future, no matter what uncertainty it also held.
Several times throughout the night, Kurt found himself suddenly awake. It had happened in the hospital as well – he had slept fitfully, never for more than a few hours. He assumed that it was because he wasn't used to sleeping on his back, making it was hard for him to get comfortable enough to stay asleep without turning over. This discomfort resulted in him lying and staring up at the ceiling several times that night, awake and yet still groggy, knowing that not only was it not time to get up, but that he needed significantly more sleep or he would be far from at his best the next day.
Each time, he finally managed to get himself back to sleep by looking over at Jane. She seemed to change position frequently, now that she had a bigger bed to sleep in, because every time he turned to look at her, she was lying a different way. Over the course of the night he'd seen her on her left side, her right side, her back and, when he woke up to the faintest hint of sunlight coming through the window and knew that he wasn't going to be getting back to sleep again that night, her stomach.
The clock read 7:14am. On a normal day, neither of them would have slept nearly that long, of course, but it was not a normal day. Not that they really knew anything about "normal" days. But even for them, this was not a normal day.
Kurt breathed in slowly, trying not to do so too deeply. He'd already figured out that that was a bad idea until his ribs healed. He glanced over at Jane, who was flat on her stomach, hugging the pillow with her left arm while simultaneously lying on top of it. Her head was turned towards him, her right arm angled up towards the headboard, at which point her elbow was bent so that her forearm pointed away from him. The right side of her, from her ankle up almost to her shoulder, was pressed gently against the right side of him, and just this fact alone made him smile. If there was one thing he didn't think he'd ever get sick of, it was waking up next to her.
He was at a disadvantage at this angle, of course, since he already knew that lifting his arms up too high was a bad idea. As much as he didn't want to wake her up, at the same time he couldn't help but feel frustrated that he wasn't at an angle where he could reach out to her. Therefore, as slowly and carefully as he could, both for the sake of her sleep and his ribs, he pushed himself gradually back and upwards, rearranging his pillows behind him as he moved, so that when he stopped, he was in a semi-reclined position, as he had been the night before when they'd first climbed into bed.
From there, he could reach out and brush a strand of hair back behind her ear without needing to lift his arm up so far that it would hurt. His hand moved slowly back towards him, but as he watched her sleeping, he felt as though his hand was once again drawn to her by a force he couldn't quite control. He studied the tattoos that he could see protruding from "her" t-shirt and couldn't help but smile. He'd always been rather ambivalent about tattoos before he'd met Jane, but on her… they were beautiful – because she was.
The black square on the side of her shoulder protruded from the arm of his shirt, and he looked at it, remembering both the picture that it contained that was invisible without Patterson's equipment, and the Navy SEAL tattoo that was under it, also invisible to him at that moment. Without realizing it, his fingers began to trace ever so lightly around the edges of it, stopping where the shape disappeared into the arm of the t-shirt and instead following the ink lines of the other tattoos that flowed outwards from it.
Kurt knew that he should stop what he was doing, because if he wasn't careful he was going to wake her up… though upon reflection, that wouldn't exactly be the worst thing in the world, would it? In a way, he was impatient for her to wake up so that he could look into her eyes, and talk to her… He knew that it wasn't nice to wake people up when they wanted to be asleep, and he didn't appreciate when it happened to him… though Jane was the one person who could have woken him up and he wouldn't have minded. On the contrary, he wanted all the waking time with her that he could get, which was exactly why he hadn't wanted to fall asleep the night before.
Jane slowly became conscious, seeing dark behind her eyelids and knowing that that meant it must still be, at the latest, early morning, if not still night. She realized that she hadn't woken up to a single nightmare, and couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder that sleeping beside Kurt could have that effect on her. Around the same time, she also became aware of the feeling of something gliding along her skin on her shoulder, and then her arm. It only took a minute to identify the fact that the shapes it was following were those of her tattoos, and that it was Kurt's finger that was tracing the patterns of ink on her skin.
She tried to stop herself from smiling, not wanting to give away the fact that she was awake, since she was lying with her face toward him, but it was hard not to. After all, she liked it so much… But since she didn't want to take the chance that he would stop once he realized that she was awake, she tried very hard to keep this fact a secret. How long she could do that for, holding in her smile and keeping her eyes closed, however, remained to be seen.
He'd traced all of the patterns of ink on the section of her arm that lay closest to him, and his fingers once again found their way around the black square, stopping when he came to the edge of his t-shirt sleeve. When he paused, telling himself that now he really should stop, but debating with himself in his head because he didn't want to, he watched as her mouth pulled into a pout, and he realized that she was already awake, so he was having the discussion with himself for no reason. Seconds later, her eyes opened, and she smiled broadly at him.
"Why'd you stop?" she whispered, scooting herself closer to him and propping herself up on her elbows.
"I didn't want to wake you up…" he replied quietly, laying his right hand flat against the skin of her arm where he'd been tracing the tattoos. "Clearly I failed there… sorry."
Smiling up at him, she shook her head. "Don't be," she told him. "That may be my favorite way ever to wake up."
"I'll have to remember that," he told her. They each smiled back at the other, and for a few seconds, neither of them could think of anything to say. They had matching dopey grins on their faces.
"It's the second to last day of the year," he said finally. "If there's anything you haven't done yet this year that you want to accomplish, you'd better get to it."
After looking at him thoughtfully for a minute, she said, "I think what I want to do that I haven't done yet this year is already on the agenda for today," she told him, her smile suddenly looking a little shy.
"Oh yeah?" he asked. "And what's that?"
"Spend a day with you that does not include chasing bad guys or saving the world in any way, or visiting with old ghosts," she told him, glancing away and then looking right back into his eyes. When she did, she swore she saw the warmth radiating from them, the smile on his face was so intense.
"Yep, that's definitely on the agenda," he told her. "I can possibly even arrange for that to be the last two days of the year, if you don't get enough of it today."
"I guess we'll just have to see how it goes," she replied with a grin, trying not to laugh. The idea that she could ever, ever get enough of this… it seemed comical to even imagine it. "But I have a feeling I know the answer." She tugged her pillow closer to him, then leaned her chin against it, both her arms now around it and tucked underneath, the side of her right arm leaned against him.
"Oh yeah?" he asked, pretending to be surprised. "Which way is it going to go, do you think?"
Shaking her head and then laying her left cheek against the pillow so that she was looking up at him, she chuckled slightly. "As if I could ever get enough of this," she said softly.
Leaning over towards her, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear once again, and then this time, reached his right hand to the back of her neck where it met her back, and where the oil derrick tattoo reached up above the loose neckline of his "too-big-for-her" t-shirt. Right away, her eyes closed and her smile intensified.
"Mmmmm… Don't mind me," she told him, "you just do exactly that." He smiled at her, unable to help himself. Her reaction was so cute, and he was amazed that it seemed like she liked what he was doing as much as he did.
"Why? Do you like that?" he asked teasingly.
"Not a bit," she said, obviously lying, her eyes still closed and the happy smile on her face.
From somewhere in the back of her mind, it occurred to her that she could take off her (his) shirt and he could probably trace tattoos all day. While it wasn't an unpleasant thought, of course, she felt as though her mind had suddenly jumped about fifty steps ahead, and for a few seconds, it felt like the bottom had fallen out of her stomach.
Relax, she told herself. You could do that, and it would be fine. You can also not do that, and that's fine, too. He would tell you exactly that if you said any of this out loud. You know this.
Interestingly enough, as she thought about it, she realized that she did know that the voice in her head was right, and she relaxed again. She wasn't going to be that bold at this moment, but she wouldn't rule it out for the future. For now, this was perfect. She just needed time, and she knew it. Even better than that, she knew that he knew it.
She had seemed completely relaxed to him, which he found so fascinating, and then suddenly her muscles tightened. He didn't think it was because of something he'd done, because up until now, all signs had pointed to her being comfortable with it – very comfortable, even. In that case, chances were that it was something in her head. There were so many things to choose from as far as possible triggers went, but because he didn't see any obvious clues and nothing occurred to him, as attuned to her as he liked to think that he was, it was one of the few times when he had to wait and see if she would push through it herself, or if she would tell him. She was getting better about that, about not trying to hold everything inside.
A minute passed, and he watched her relax again. Whatever it had been, whatever had occurred to her, she seemed to have worked through it on her own. He loved when he got to be privy to her innermost thoughts, but he was also glad to see that whatever it was, it had come and gone without causing any major turmoil. After all, she'd had more than her share of drama, both lately and just in general.
He was still watching her when she opened her eyes lazily and smiled up at him, and at that moment he wasn't sure if he'd ever seen such a blissful smile on her face. Probably not, all things considered. "What do you want to do today?" she asked him.
"What do you want to do today?" he replied.
"Nope," she said with a grin. "I asked your first. Besides, you're the one who's injured. You get to pick."
"And if I say I want to do this all day?" he asked, continuing to trace the ink on the back of her neck.
"Boy, well, I mean… I guess I could deal with that…" she replied playfully. "I mean, only because you would want to, of course…"
"Right," he countered. "Because you don't enjoy that at all."
"I don't want to be rude or anything," she said with a smile a mile wide. "But I also happen to know that you'll get hungry, probably sooner than later."
"It's true," he agreed thoughtfully. "And I did take on the responsibility for making sure that you eat… so that you don't end up the one in the hospital." Frowning, he sighed and said, "Well, I guess we can't just stay here like this all day after all."
"I can make you some breakfast," she volunteered, already anticipating his reaction. Turning to look him more fully in the face, she watched as he burst out laughing.
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" he sputtered. "Jane… I love you, but you might give me food poisoning."
"Hey, that's a little harsh," she said, frowning at him sternly and turning over onto her back to look up at him. "Besides, it's not my fault you never taught me to cook."
"I'm sorry," he said kindly, moving the hand that had been on her back a minute before to her cheek. Then, in a thoughtful voice, he said, "I can't believe you remember that…" He'd offered to teach her to cook not long after they'd first met, during another period of forced recovery – hers, that time – that they'd spent together, but somehow saving the world had always taken priority. As his thumb stroked her cheek, her smile returned – they both knew that her frown hadn't been genuine, anyway. "Maybe we can do something simple, like a mini-lesson…"
"And maybe we won't need to cook at all. Didn't Zapata say something about us not needing to worry about food? I wonder what she meant by that…" Jane mused.
"We won't know until we get up," he said quietly, his hand still on her cheek.
"Do we have to?" Jane asked with a heavy sigh.
"Not necessarily," he assured her. "Though brushing our teeth may be something we want to do sooner than later…"
"Hmmmm… you have a point," she told him, immediately closing her eyes. "But I don't want to get up." He chuckled softly, his hand still on her cheek. Then, after a pause, she heard him sigh beside her.
"You know, you don't really appreciate the ability to bend and twist until you lose it," he said, frustration suddenly audible in his voice, which made her open her eyes in curiosity. "Like everything else, I guess."
She studied his face for a second, wondering what had made him say that. "I mean don't get me wrong, I'm a hell of a lot better off than I would have been if I was dead…" Her eyes widened at his words, and she was now genuinely confused… and a little bit worried. It wasn't like him to talk like that.
"I feel like I'm missing something important," she told him seriously, looking up at him worriedly.
He shook his head, smiling at her again. "Sorry," he told her. "I guess that was a little cryptic. I was just watching you and wanting to get closer to you and I guess… feeling a little frustrated about not being able to really sit in any position except this one without leaning on something I shouldn't. Because really…" he pursed his lips, looking at her as if he couldn't decide whether he was going to say what he wanted to say or not. "This is better than the hospital, but I just still feel like you're too far away…" Watching carefully for her reaction, he wasn't quite sure what to expect.
Her smile was sympathetic as she looked back at him. After all, she knew that it must be frustrating for him to have such restricted movement. "Well, I'll definitely agree with you, that this – you being injured…" She looked down at the bandage that was wrapped around him, then back up. "It's…" Suddenly unable to say the words she was thinking, she changed the sentence and continued slowly. "It could have been a lot worse." After hesitating for a few seconds, she continued. "I can understand how it must be frustrating for you," she said. "And it's certainly not ideal that you can really only sit in one position… It's a lot worse for you than it is for me, of course, so I know that I can't really understand. But…"
Now she sat up slowly, his hand slipping from her cheek as he waited to see where she would end up. She turned around so that she was facing him, sitting where she'd been lying a minute before, her right knee against his right leg. Leaning forward, she took his hand in hers. "At that same time, as annoying as it is… I can't help but think of everything else we've been through. Compared to that…" She looked into his eyes for a few seconds, trying not to let her thoughts get away from her, trying not to remember too much. "I know it's frustrating, but it's probably the easiest thing we've faced."
He looked at her, his expression changing to one of awe, and he shook his head. "Well now I just feel stupid," he blurted out, starting to laugh. "Because you're absolutely right."
"It's not stupid," she told him, "it is frustrating. I'm not saying it's not. I'm just saying…" She felt a feeling of déjà vu wash over her, and she stopped in the middle of her sentence.
It seemed that once again, they were perfectly in synch, because Kurt's face filled with surprise at that moment, realizing that he knew what she was going to say. He could have beat her to it, but he decided to let her have the moment. After all, this realization was a big deal for her. As he waited for her to continue, the grin on his face only widened.
"I'm just saying… that… it's going to be okay," she said slowly, realizing exactly how it probably sounded to him to hear her say it now. "We are going to be okay."
He was grinning from ear to ear by now – he couldn't help it. The change he'd seen in Jane already was incredible. She had a long way to go, he knew, and it wouldn't be easy… but that was alright.
"Yes, we are," he agreed, leaning forward as far as he dared, but coming up short of her. "Would you, uh…"
Scooting herself closer to him, she smiled innocently. "Something I can do for you, Agent Weller?" she asked. He rolled his eyes at her, and simply waited.
"I guess I really should have gotten up and brushed my teeth earlier, huh?" she asked, her face still a good six inches away from his.
"I don't care," he growled at her, knowing that she was just teasing him on purpose now. "Come here."
"Why?" she asked, again looking at him innocently and just barely holding in a laugh. She felt him tug on her hand, pulling it closer to him, and she let herself lean closer to him so slowly, she wouldn't have been surprised if he'd growled at her again. He didn't, however. Instead, he simply kept his eyes locked intently on hers, waiting, and smiling at her warmly.
When her face was finally a fraction of an inch from his, she stopped, and she saw an unfamiliar look flit across his face.
"You're impossible," he whispered.
"But you like it," she told him with a grin.
He laughed out loud in surprise, nodding his head. "I do," he replied, then leaned forward just enough to brush his lips against hers, moving back again a second later as he felt a twinge behind his ribs. She leaned forward to compensate for the space between them this time, sitting up on her knees slightly to even out their eye levels. When they finally pulled apart, she leaned her head down against his neck, dropping her forehead onto his shoulder.
"You need some breakfast," she told him quietly.
"We need some breakfast," he corrected her, clasping her hand in his and squeezing it tightly. "And coffee," he added.
"Okay, now you're speaking my language," she said, gently nuzzling her face against his neck and then slowly picking it up again so that she could look at him. A few seconds later, she let go of his hand and climbed towards the far side of the bed to get up.
"Come on," she said, standing by the door. "If you don't get up, I might make you breakfast." Her eyes danced playfully.
"Okay, okay, I'm getting up," he said quickly, but moving just as slowly as usual. She stood by the door and watched as he stood up stiffly, walking towards her.
"What are you smiling at?" he asked her, coming to a stop in front of her, his hands immediately going to her waist.
"You, of course," she replied, as if it was obvious. She rested her arms gently against the bandage that was still wrapped around him, with only her hands actually coming in contact with his skin. Tapping lightly, she said, "You go first in the bathroom this time, and I'll go see what the food situation is. I promise, I'll just look. I won't make anything, except possibly coffee."
"It's a deal," he told her. "And I suppose that's my incentive to be quick? So I can make sure you don't get tempted?" His eyes flashed playfully at her as she pretended to scowl at him.
"Why do I put up with you again?" she asked, as if she was seriously trying to remember.
"No idea," he shrugged. "I was hoping you wouldn't ask that question…"
Taking a step back, she shook her head at him and laughed. "Go on," she told him, "or I really will start cooking… which has to be the weirdest threat ever."
"But it works," he told her, letting his hands fall from her waist as she stepped back again. "So I'd better not push my luck… you could be more serious about it than I think…" She made a face at him and watched him walk past her out of the bedroom.
Following after him slowly to make her way to the kitchen, she looked around her. Today was Friday. A week ago, she'd woken up dreading the day, and the party at the end of it even more than that. Her feelings now couldn't be more opposite from that day… On the contrary, she could not remember ever looking forward to the immediate future so much – or at all, really. She did so cautiously, of course, but less and less so as she allowed herself to believe for the first time – in herself, in him, in them, in the idea that just maybe… this could work.
Yes, in the space of a week, her entire world had turned upside down.
And she quite liked it that way.