Disclaimer: I do not own Blindspot. More like it's the other way around… I've come to realize THEY own ME. :)
A/N: I haven't said it lately, so I'll say it here: Thank you so much for the kind reviews you all leave for me. They're so very much appreciated. Also, I just wanted to reiterate again that I know nothing about broken ribs and could find very little specific information on the recovery process, so I'm making my best guesses. It's almost the end of December (for Jane and Kurt – and somehow already spring for the rest of us) so this story is winding down… though despite their length, these chapters all seem to cover such short increments of time, this is definitely not the last one. I'm not really sure how many more there will be. I'm not the one in charge – Jane and Kurt are. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Jane walked out of the bedroom toward the kitchen slowly, still not quite awake. It felt surreal, standing in Kurt's kitchen a minute later, knowing that he was in the bathroom nearby. Sure, she'd been here more than once before. But it had been a long time ago, and it was all understandably very different now, especially since she was standing there wearing his clothes… She smiled to herself, gravitating slowly towards the counter where the coffee machine sat. Looking at it, she tried to guess where he would have kept the necessary supplies, opening the cupboard above where the machine sat on the counter and peering inside.
Yet again, she was hit with the strangeness of the situation, and how she still really couldn't believe that she was making coffee at Kurt's place. He'd made coffee at her place more than once, of course, but that had been a long time ago. So long ago, in fact, that now it almost felt as if she had imagined it.
It isn't the fact that you're making coffee here that's making you feel that way, and you know it, the voice in her head pointed out. She knew that it was the truth, but the thought still made her blush, even standing there alone. After all, she knew what it was that made her feel a little extra self-conscious, a little… off, but not in a bad way. She'd been able to deny her feelings for him for a very long time, somehow, but not anymore. What's more, she no longer wanted to deny them.
As if it was perfectly normal and she did it all the time at his place, she reached into the cupboard to take out the coffee, a filter and a scoop. Almost before she had opened the bag, the aroma wafted into her nostrils and she began to feel more awake already. She had just finished spooning coffee into the filter when she heard the bathroom door open. Her head had turned at the noise, and she stood and watched expectantly until Kurt appeared a few seconds later.
It was hard to say who smiled at who first, or it may have happened at precisely the same second. Either way, with her smile firmly in place, she turned back to what she was doing, pretending to ignore him. She set down the spoon, folded the bag of coffee closed again, and then slowly and deliberately placed it back in the cupboard, closing the door.
By the time she'd done that, also seeming as if he was trying to be nonchalant but more likely not seeming to be in a hurry because his injuries required him to move slowly, Kurt had walked up behind her, stopping only when he was standing with his chest against her back. His hands once again came to rest lightly on her waist before they slid slowly around in front of her, clasping and then coming to a stop on the counter in front of her. "How's it going in here?" he asked casually, as if they stood this way all the time.
"Pretty good," she replied, also acting as if they were talking from a more usual distance, and as if he wasn't standing with his arms around her. Turning to smile at him over her shoulder, she felt herself blushing all over again, wondering if she looked as ridiculously giddy as she felt. Fighting to retain normalcy in the conversation, she added, "Now we just need water, and we'll have coffee."
"There's a pitcher in the bottom cupboard, by your feet," he told her. "I usually get the water in that and pour it into the machine."
"Thanks for the tip," she said, unable to keep from glancing back over her shoulder at him again and grinning, willing herself not to let her face be pulled toward him, the way it wanted to be. She shifted slightly so that she wasn't standing in front of the cupboard door that she needed to open, and felt him move along with her. When she leaned down to get the pitcher out of the lower cupboard, he took a step back to give her space to move, so that he was forced to let his hands fall from her waist. Even so, she could still feel him watching her. Even after less than a minute, she already felt that he was much too far away.
She stood back up and walked to the sink, filling the pitcher halfway with water and then moving back to coffee machine to fill it up to the line. It wasn't a particularly interesting task, simply an important part of the process of making coffee, but when she pressed the On button and turned around to look at him, she saw that he was watching her intently.
"What?" she asked with a smile. Of course, she knew exactly why he was smiling at her the way he was. It was, after all, pretty much the same reason she was smiling at him – mainly, because he was there in front of her. Another reason wasn't even necessary. Continuing to smile at him, she rested her elbows against the counter that was now behind her, leaning back against it casually, as if she really didn't know why he was watching her, the look in her eyes saying exactly the opposite. He walked forward until he was only inches away from her, still just smiling at her. To her disappointment, he stopped before she expected him to, still inches away, which made her immediately want to lean forward again, toward him.
"Your turn in the bathroom," he told her off-handedly – again, as if this was a perfectly normal situation and they always talked to each other from this close proximity, and about whose turn it was to use a shared birthday. Of course, he could have told her that from across the room… but what would have been the fun in that? He enjoyed watching her reaction to him. When it came down to it, he just enjoyed watching her, period.
She simply shook her head and rolled her eyes at him, smiling all the while. "I guess it is," she replied, staring into his eyes for a few more seconds before she started moving, sliding to the side to go around him in the direction of the bathroom.
As she did, he had the urge to stop her, for no other reason than he didn't want her to walk away. On the contrary, he wanted her closer to him. But he resisted the urge in the end, knowing that she would be right back there again in only a few minutes. It would only feel like an agonizingly long time.
What's happening here? he wondered, realizing just how little control he had of his emotions when it came to Jane. He'd always known that she was his weakness, even before he'd known it consciously, but he swore that he had less and less control the more time he spent with her.
That's probably because that's exactly what's happening, the voice in his head told him helpfully.
After she'd disappeared into the bathroom, Kurt looked around the kitchen that was so familiar to him. He'd lived in that apartment for years, and yet, somehow today it looked different – and not just because there was evidence of Patterson and Zapata's great grocery shopping odyssey yesterday in the form of various foods sitting on the counters that wouldn't normally have been there.
No, he realized as he looked around the apartment past the open kitchen, it wasn't just the kitchen that looked different. The rest of the apartment looked different too. Except that… it didn't. Not really. Everything was the way he'd left it.
That was when he understood that what was different was him. He felt different, and somehow that made everything around him look different. Of course, different could mean better or worse, but in this case, there was no question about the fact that it meant better. No, better simply wasn't a strong enough word for the kind of different he felt because of Jane. It was as though he'd been walking around in a fog for literally as long as he could remember, going through the motions, and suddenly that fog was gone.
The coffee machine finished brewing on the counter beside him, and he turned as the sputtering sound brought him back to the present. Already, after only a week, the smell of coffee reminded him of Jane. Really, if he was being honest with himself, lots of everyday things now reminded him of Jane. Or maybe it was just the fact that he was thinking about her most of the time, which made it seem like more and more things were reminding him of her. It was hard to know for sure.
Jane walked back from the bathroom slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible. She wanted to see what Kurt was doing without him noticing her, if that was possible. It wasn't that she didn't like him watching her, of course, because she could admit that she did. No, it was more that it was fun to watch him when he didn't know that she was watching, and she didn't get too many chances to do that. The combination of his FBI training and his instincts made him very hard to sneak up on.
He was pouring coffee into two mugs when she rounded the counter quietly, without him having any idea that she was there. He only noticed her when she was almost beside him.
"You're like a ninja," he said, looking up at her with a smile as she seemed to appear out of nowhere. "I didn't even hear you until you were right there."
"Maybe I had ninja training," she mused, looking thoughtful. It was only partially a joke, of course, since they would probably never be able to know for sure how many different kinds of training she'd had when she'd been Remi.
Kurt chuckled, shaking his head and moving slowly to take out a spoon, creamer and sugar for the coffee. "Maybe you did," he said, as if he was seriously considered it. "At this point, it really wouldn't surprise me."
"Are you saying that I can't surprise you anymore?" she asked as he handed her a mug of coffee, made exactly the way she would have done it herself, right down to the exact additions of cream and sugar. She couldn't help but smile at his thoughtfulness, and at the fact that he still remembered what she liked in her coffee.
"You're kidding, right?" he asked, grinning at her. "I'd say the past week has been somewhat surprising."
"Okay, fair enough," she agreed, peering into her coffee thoughtfully, "Surprising may even be an understatement."
He chuckled softly, putting his right arm around her as they stood at the counter, then leaned over to kiss her temple. As he turned to rest the scruff of his face against the smooth skin at the edge of her forehead, her left arm instinctively wound around his lower back. This time it did so more carefully than usual, her hand settling below the bottom edge of the bandage.
"Let's see what food there may or may not be around here," he said, barely moving his face away from her and consequently speaking almost against her skin. Of course, she had absolutely no complaints about that. She held her coffee cup in her right hand, sipping from it slowly, and he held his cup in his left, with their other hands looped around each other. She couldn't help but smile at the way he was suggesting movement on their part, while barely moving at all, just holding her close. Something about that moment struck her as perfect. No, that was wrong. Everything about that moment struck her as perfect.
She leaned her head gently against his cheek, sighing happily. This just made him chuckle, turning slightly to kiss her again, this time on her forehead, which only made her want to think about food even less than she already did.
"This is perfect," she said quietly. "We don't really need food, do we? I mean, I'm not even hungry…" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wished she could reel them all back in – but alas, it didn't work that way, of course. They both stiffened immediately in surprise, though for slightly different reasons.
Interestingly enough, they pulled each other tighter when their muscles contracted, so that instead of her words making them pull into themselves, away from each other, they were now closer together. Kurt set his coffee down on the counter, turning slowly towards her and pulling both of his arms around her insistently. He didn't expect her to resist, but he was prepared in case she did. After all, he knew that she was still beating herself up on this topic, and he had no intention of allowing her to continue, if he could possibly help it. The trick was how to make her stop. All he could come up with was to provide a constant stream of support, which he wanted to do for her anyway.
Jane also set her mug down on the counter, more slowly than Kurt did, and only after he already had both arms around her. She knew that trying to fight what he was trying to do was futile – and really, who was she kidding? She didn't want to fight it. On the contrary, she could now at least admit to herself that she liked how stubborn he was about her well-being. That was the first step, wasn't it? Being willing to accept, in this case, that someone cared? No, she would be lying to herself if she said that she didn't want Kurt to act exactly the way he was acting. Because of that, she simply relaxed against him and tried to breathe.
I should apologize, she thought.
For what? the voice in her head asked.
I shouldn't say things like that, she reasoned. I need to get it all out of my head. I just wish I knew how.
Being hungry isn't a choice, she reminded herself. You are or you're not. You just replied without thinking. It's nothing to apologize for. Then, more emphatically, the voice insisted,He doesn't want you to be sorry, he just wants you to be okay.
Yeah, she thought, trying to keep the sigh she felt from escaping her, I know.
I wish I knew the right thing to say… he thought at the same time that her thoughts were racing. I wish I knew how to help her.
Do what you're doing, he told himself. You said it yourself earlier… She's already different. Think where the two of you were a week ago… She has actually come a long way in that time. It just takes time, but she'll get there. There's no one else who's better at getting through to her than you, and you know it. There never was, in as long as she can remember, and as long as you've known her. He couldn't help but smile just a little bit to himself, knowing that it was the truth. You're doing it right. Just keep doing it.
They were clinging to each other as if they thought that the other was going to try to get away, both just hearing the sound of two people's breathing and little else. This was tricky for Jane, who was trying to find the balance between holding on firmly and not hurting Kurt's ribs, but he hadn't flinched at all, so she could only assume that she hadn't hurt him. Both of them had words poised on the tips of their tongues, and yet, neither of them uttered a single one of them.
Not surprisingly, they were both fairly sure that they knew what the other wanted to say. Kurt could tell that Jane hadn't meant to say what she had said, and that she probably wanted to apologize, even though it wasn't anything she should apologize for. He knew that she was doing her best, he just wished he could get her to relax, and to understand that her best was good enough. She'd always put so much pressure on herself.
By the same token, Jane knew that Kurt wanted her to stop putting herself down, to stop being so hard on herself. That time she hadn't done it on purpose, but she knew that there had been plenty of other times when she'd said self-denigrating things that she shouldn't have. She breathed slowly, in and out, just focusing on that for a minute.
He loosened his grip on her and leaned back, looking in her eyes. Neither of them had said anything for several minutes, since her words had come out so unexpectedly, and yet it felt as though they'd had a whole long conversation about it. Looking at her now, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead again, feeling like he'd said what he'd needed to say even though he hadn't actually said anything.
Looking into his eyes, it was the strangest thing… It was like they'd had a serious talk that had actually never happened. The two of them had always had a strong connection, but this was just… it was beyond impossible. And yet, it's reality, she told herself, unable to help herself from smiling.
"All I meant was, I would happily stand here like this, because it feels so perfect," she said softly, having recovered the ability to breath normally again over the past few minutes.
"I know," he said simply. "And neither of us is going anywhere. So I think we can afford to walk a few feet and shift a little bit of our attention to food, and it will still feel perfect. And even if you don't feel hungry, I want you to try and eat. Because it's my job to make sure that you're okay. Okay?" he asked her seriously.
"Okay," she whispered, smiling at both his sincerity and the cluster of the word 'okay' that they'd just said three times in a row between the two of them. Then, out of uncontrollable curiosity, she asked, "How did that become your job, anyway?"
"I made it my job. Because there is nothing I want more than to know that you are okay. And to help make sure that happens. I guess it's less of a job than just… something I want to do." After a short pause he added quietly, "More than anything." After all, those words already had significance to them. He stopped and looked at her, awaiting her reaction.
As she'd been doing most of the morning so far, she smiled at him warmly. "I think I can live with that," she told him. "Especially if it means I end up here, with you."
"Looks to me like you do," he said, looking around and then grinning back at her.
"Good," she replied. "I was hoping you'd say that. And now," she added, "let's think about food." He just smiled right along with her, turning as she shifted, they moved together slowly toward the opposite end of the counter, near the refrigerator.
One of the first things they noticed was that there at the end of the counter was a bag of croissants and a bunch of bananas. "Alright," Kurt announced, inspiration for a simple but interesting breakfast striking him. "This is two-thirds of what I need, and the other third is right up here," he said. Turning slightly toward the upper cabinet in front of them, he started to reach up before remembering that that might not be a good idea. He stopped abruptly when he felt a twinge in his rib cage, lowering his arm sheepishly and feeling Jane's eyes on him. "Ooops… forgot about that for a second," he mumbled. "Just habit…"
Jane smiled at him and nodded. "So, this cabinet?" she asked, reaching up to open it and then turning to look at him over her shoulder, grinning sweetly and leaning toward him slightly. "What do we need in here?" There was no teasing in her eyes – she understood instinctively that this wasn't the time.
For a second he didn't answer, but instead simply stared into her eyes. He could see that she was trying to distract him from potential frustration at not being able to do things the way he normally did, and he could admit that it was working. She was, after all, the perfect distraction for him. Or, more accurately, they were the perfect distractions for each other.
"Peanut butter," he told her, glancing up at it in the cabinet just above eye level. So close, and yet so far away.
Her face twisted slightly in surprise. She couldn't imagine how that would go with the other things on the counter, but she reached up and took it down anyway, setting it on the counter hesitantly. Sensing her reluctance, he chuckled slightly. "Trust me," he said, "I've tested this on Sawyer extensively."
Chuckling at the idea of his nephew as a test subject, she moved slightly to the right, to the next cabinet over, and reached up for two plates. "Anything else?" she asked.
"I don't think so," he said, glancing at what he had in front of him. Though she had to force herself, she took a step to one side to give him space to do whatever he was going to do, watching him with interest. With the materials that he needed now in reach, he worked for a few minutes and prepared what looked to Jane like a very… unexpected combination. Each plate held a croissant, along with numerous round slices of banana, each of them with a dollop of peanut butter on top. Jane looked at them as if they were some sort of alien creation.
"I though you trusted me," he teased her, seeing her continued skepticism. "What? You trust me with your life, but not your stomach?"
"Very funny," she replied, chuckling quietly but still looking unsure.
He picked up the plates, so she walked to the other end of the counter where they'd left their coffees, picking up both of them and joining him at the dining room table on the other side of the counter. Kurt sat down slowly and carefully, appearing to wince a little bit as he did. Though he tried to hide it, the look of pain did not escape Jane's attention and she couldn't help but be concerned.
"Are you okay?" she asked, watching him carefully.
"Yeah," he replied after a few seconds, once he was sure that he was okay. "It just… hurt for a second."
"You've probably been on your feet for too long already," she told him disapprovingly.
"Well, I'm not on my feet right now," he reasoned.
"No, that's good," she replied, her smile slowly returning. "Now tell me about these things? What in the world…?"
"I take it you haven't tried peanut butter and banana together," he said with a grin. The skeptical look on her face was answer enough. "There was a time when Sawyer refused to eat banana without peanut butter, not long after he tried the combination. I thought you might like to try something new. Just… try one," he urged her, watching her expectantly.
Jane really wasn't sure what to expect, her only thought being that, having tried both separately, she already knew that those two flavors did not go together. Still, she obediently picked one up and put it in her mouth, chewing slowly and then looking at him in surprise. She began nodding as she chewed, and once she finished, she said quickly, "Wow, it's… good!"
"You look surprised," he observed in amusement. "You mean you doubted me?"
Her expression changed slightly, realizing just how surprised she must have looked. "You? Not at all," she replied with a grin. "Those bananas… well, yes. A little. Okay, maybe more than a little." He chuckled at her reaction. She'd been more willing to try them than Sawyer had for the first time, that was for sure. "But I like them, surprisingly enough." Next she broke off a piece of the croissant, eating that as well. "And this, I knew I liked," she added.
Kurt shook his head and smiled. His first attempt at keeping the balance between taking care of Jane and letting her take care of him had been a success. He took a sip of his coffee, feeling very satisfied with their efforts.
"This is good, thank you," she said between bites. She was eating slowly, he noted, but she was eating.
"We make a good team," he replied, adding, "But then again, we've known that for a long time."
"Well I'm not sure this was much of a team effort… you did everything!" she insisted.
Of course, he shook his head. "No way," he told her. "Considering how high I can reach at the moment? Without your help, there would have been no coffee and no peanut butter. Just croissants and bananas. This meal would definitely lose something without the other two," he insisted.
"So my usefulness is reaching things up high?" she asked him with a grin.
"Baby steps," he told her. "You'll be cooking in no time."
Jane's eyes widened at his words. "Cooking, huh? You sure you're brave enough to authorize that?"
"I didn't say today," he assured her. "Just… eventually…"
"So, that means lots of lessons, then?" she asked with a knowing smile. She couldn't help it, it was just so much fun to give him a hard time about things. Besides, lots of lessons meant… lots of time together. And that was certainly a welcome thought.
"It might have to," he replied with a sigh, pretending to be remorseful.
"Such a shame," Jane said, shaking her head with what might have passed for sadness, had the grin on her face not been a mile wide.
Unable to help himself any longer, he chuckled to himself at the two of them. As much as he loved his job, it would be hard to go back after what had become an extended sort of vacation with Jane… when he was eventually medically cleared and it was time to go back to work, of course. From the way he felt just then, however, he knew that it would be more than a few days. The doctor had said a week, after all. He just hoped that Sandstorm's Phase Two didn't start in that time…
The thought was sobering, and he wondered suddenly where he'd left his phone. The look didn't escape Jane, of course, and she moved her left hand on rest on his right, sitting on the table, without even thinking. "What's wrong?" she asked, not having seen worry on his face for quite a while, and wondering where it had suddenly come from.
"What? Oh, I was just thinking…" he said, still trying to remember where he'd left his phone. "Even though I'm technically not working, I still need to stay accessible, so I was just trying to remember where I left my phone…" He had a few guesses, but he'd hesitated to make the effort to stand up again until he'd thought about where he'd last seen it a little more.
With a smile, Jane replied simply, "Oh, okay. Well you're in luck because I know where it is." Then just like that, she got up from the table and walked into his bedroom, returning a minute later with both of their phones. She set hers on the counter without glancing at the screen, then walked back to the table and handed him his.
"Thanks," he replied. "You didn't have to do that."
"And you didn't have to make me breakfast," she replied quickly. "Though… probably better that you did it than me, at this point." That last part earned her a chuckle from him as she sat back down again, scooting her chair closer to his.
The fact that she'd remembered where she'd last seen his phone made her feel strangely happy, more than she felt like it should have. After all, it was just his phone… But of course, it wasn't the fact that he was obviously grateful that she'd brought him his phone that made her feel good. It was hard to explain why exactly she felt so good at that moment. It was more something about what this knowledge of his phone's location represented. It was more the fact that she was staying there with him and spending so much time with him. No, knowing where his phone was had just been a happy side effect of the fact that she was there. And being there with him was what was making her happy.
"What are you smiling at?" he asked her, and she realized that her mind had wandered.
Looking up at him and feeling self-conscious, she shrugged, smiling even a little harder, and looked back down. Where exactly did she begin to try to explain that? When she thought about it, however, the answer was pretty obvious. "You," she replied, only looking back at him slowly. When she did, she was greeted by the smile that she loved so much, the one that she had only ever seen him smile at her.
He was speechless then, and all he could do was look at her with what felt like the same goofy smile that took over his face so often when he was around her. "Well," he said slowly, "I'm glad I'm doing something right."
"More than something," she replied quietly, turning serious for a minute. "A lot of things. I hope you already knew that." He grinned and looked down at his food, momentarily surprised by such a direct compliment. His eyes then jumped to her food, but did not yet look back up at her.
Now it was her turn to watch him in amusement, and she saw him eyeing her plate. Though she suspected that it was because he was avoiding looking at her more than anything else, she also knew that he was paying attention to how much she was eating. Knowing this, she continued taking slow bites of her breakfast, reminding herself that it was important. The only way to re-acclimate herself to regular meals, after all, was to eat – even if it wasn't much. If she didn't want it to always be like this, she had to work to change it.
After focusing on her food for a few minutes, she looked back up to find him looking at her again, and now it was her turn to feel self-conscious. She'd eaten about as much as she could manage, and she looked down at her plate, which still held about half of what she'd started with. Pushing it away slightly, she looked back up at him unsurely. Far from being critical, she found the look on his face to have softened since the last time she'd looked at him.
"Good job," he told her encouragingly.
Gritting her teeth, she took a deep breath, suddenly feeling frustrated with herself once again. "Eating as much as a bird shouldn't be worthy of praise," she said, looking away again. Though she hadn't meant to, she was doing it again, and she knew it – letting herself get upset about something that shouldn't matter so much, and beating herself up about it. She also knew that it wasn't the amount that she'd eaten that bothered her, but what it represented… Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and in her head, recited the words that she'd been trying to make into a mantra of sorts.
The CIA has no power over me. It's over.
It was a hard thing to convince herself of when she could still see the effects, both physical and mental, of course, but she was working on it. Looking down at her bare arms, she realized that the tattoos hid most of what had once been visible on them. Then again, her back and torso had always been where it was the worst, anyway. For good measure, she said the words to herself again.
The CIA has no power over me. It's over.
She opened her eyes again, finding herself once again looking at her plate.
"Jane," Kurt said sternly, and she knew what his expression would be before she even looked back up. Frustration mixed with guilt, because he wanted her to stop beating herself up, and because as long as she did, he would blame himself for what had happened to her. The ironic part was that she felt exactly the same way, because she knew – knew – that according to Kurt, she was supposed to be giving herself a break, and that she was failing. If only it was that easy.
Looking back up at him slowly she sighed, trying to force her mouth into a smile, but it came out looking sad and only lasted a few seconds. She was feeling exhausted with the entire exchange, even though she hadn't said a word, and she had been the one to start it. How quickly the situation had reversed itself.
The look on his face was not, however, the one she'd expected after all. Instead, he was simply looking at her intently, with the tiniest hint of a smile. "Good job," he repeated, looking into her eyes stubbornly, and she once again attempted to smile at him. The results were almost as unsuccessful as the previous time, but she figured that it was better than nothing. At least this time, she managed to maintain eye contact with him.
"Thanks," she replied quietly, willing herself to believe that her efforts had warranted his words.
You're getting there, she reminded herself. He can see it, and if you let yourself, you can, too.
His plate was empty, so she stood up and cleared both of them. It seemed preferable to remove the evidence than to have to look at it, after all. Leaving both plates stacked by the sink, she walked back to the table, stopping beside him instead of sitting in her chair.
"Do you want more coffee?" she asked.
"No, thanks," he said, now smiling up at her again, and she immediately felt herself begin to relax. Since his was empty, she took both mugs and rinsed them, leaving them by the sink for the time being as well. When she turned around, he'd pulled himself up from the chair and followed her back to the kitchen.
"I was thinking we could watch a movie," he suggested, stopping to lean against the counter not far from her.
"Sure," she said, turning to face him and stepping closer. "It's been a while." This was, of course, a major understatement. The last time they'd watched a movie together had been… well, it felt like another lifetime. In some ways, she supposed that it was. "Did you have one in mind?"
"Actually, yeah," he said, walking back towards the TV. "Sarah gave me this about six months ago and told me she thought it was something I would like. She had seen it and then actually went out and bought a copy to send to me." He found the DVD he was looking for, and then walked back to where she was standing, coming to a stop close to her. Closer than he would have stood to anyone else.
"Wow." Jane raised her eyebrows, impressed. "That's… she really thinks you'll like it, I guess."
With a shrug, he handed her the box. "I guess," he said as she took it from him, turning it over in her hand.
On the front of the box, there was a picture of a city skyline blurred out in the background, and a man with a briefcase in the foreground, running through the clouds. "The Secret Life of Walter Middy," she read aloud, scanning the description. "Okay." She didn't really feel one way or another about it. It sounded interesting enough, she supposed, but the list of movies that she had seen was still painfully short, so she didn't have much to compare it to.
After all, when she actually had the time to watch movies, alone in her safe house, she found herself restless if she sat for too long. Movies, or TV in general, hadn't seemed to hold her attention most of the time, so she rarely even made the attempt anymore. Therefore, it was hard to even know what she liked and didn't like.
Then, thinking back to her bag of dirty clothes, she was reminded of a more immediate problem – that she had nothing clean to wear.
"Is there… uh… any way I could start some laundry? I was going to say that I should take a shower, which made me realize that I didn't have anything clean to put on…"
"Of course," he said. "And, uh… you know that I can give you something else to put on until your stuff is clean…" She smiled self-consciously, thinking that that was very much okay with her as she glanced down at the things of his that she was already wearing.
"I should probably take a shower, too," he said, thinking out loud. "We can save the movie for when we're clean. But, laundry first, because that will take longer."
To her surprise, he walked slowly to the hall and opened a small door that she'd thought was a closet, but which was actually hiding a narrow stackable washer and dryer. Following after him and stopping beside him, she shook her head in surprise.
"Wow, that's… possibly the smallest washer and dryer I've ever seen – not that that means anything, of course… since I've barely seen any." She stopped and found herself just smiling, first at the contents of the closet that wasn't a closet, and then a second later, at him. That was when she realized in surprise that she'd laid her hand on his arm without even noticing, and she blushed quickly. However, the smile on his face as he looked back at her was perfectly calm, without a hint of teasing. She felt like she should drop her hand off of his arm, but at the same time, she very much didn't want to.
Why should you? the voice in her head demanded. You like it there, and I think it's pretty clear that he does, too. Still, she felt self-conscious enough that her hand began moving down his arm, despite the fact that she didn't want it to.
He felt her hand begin to slide down his arm to his hand, and when it got there he quickly grabbed it, giving it a squeeze. Turning to face her, he paused for a few seconds, enjoying a slightly surprised look on her face. "Go get your bag," he told her, to which she just nodded, smiling back at him and for that moment, not moving.
Chuckling at her again, Kurt shook his head. "Go get the bag and then you can come back," he told her. Somehow she convinced herself to step far enough away from him that the gravitational force that seemed to pull her in lessened enough to allow her to walk into the next room. Feeling slightly dazed from the intensity between them, Jane walked back into the bedroom to retrieve her bag of dirty clothes. As she lifted it onto her shoulder, she looked around the room again, slightly in awe.
This is Kurt's room, she thought. Of course, she already knew this. It shouldn't have been a big deal. After all, not only was she standing in his bedroom, but she'd slept in his childhood room for several days. She'd slept in this one once already, as well… but it suddenly felt different. That other room had belonged to a different Kurt, one from long ago. This room belonged to the Kurt that she knew now. Feeling slightly confused by the idea that she knew one Kurt better than the other – even though it was true, in a way – she walked out of the room pressing the flat pendant on her necklace between the fingers of her left hand unconsciously.
He'd been watching the doorway, waiting for her return. When he saw her walking toward him, necklace clasped between her fingers, he couldn't help but smile. He'd seen flashes of the metal here and there since he'd given it to her, but it made him smile to see her holding onto it as though it would help her find some sort of answers. After all, the fact that she was wearing it now, when she'd only recently gotten up, meant that she'd probably slept with it on. That by itself wasn't a big deal, except that it implied that it was important to her. That was what made him smile. When she stopped in front of him, setting down her bag beside her, he couldn't help himself.
"Nice necklace," he commented off-handedly, as if he'd never said it to her before.
"Thanks," she replied, hearing the first time they'd had this same exchange clearly in her head. "Someone special gave it to me." Her words were rewarded with his smile, the Just for Jane one that lit up his face.
Shaking his head and chuckling softly, he turned to the subject of her laundry. "So, go ahead and put in whatever you want to wash," he offered, stepping back to give her more space. As he watched her step forward into the space that he'd created for her, he couldn't help but immediately want to move closer to her again. However, he kept himself still, determined not to crowd her – at least for long enough for her to put her dirty clothes in the wash.
"Anything you want to add in here?" she asked, stepping back a minute later. He was surprised at how much room there was in the washing machine, which was not a good thing. It was a small washer, and the fact that there was still space made how little she had painfully obvious. They needed to get her some more clothes… But first things first.
"I might have a few things. I'll take a look, and then we can get it started," he said, stopping to smile at her for a few seconds before walking back to his bedroom. He was surprised when she followed him, until he saw her set down her empty bag by the wall. Walking to the corner of the room, he peered down into the hamper where he generally remembered to throw his dirty clothes… eight out of ten times, at least. Before he had a chance to even try to reach down for those few things at the bottom of the hamper, Jane was standing beside him.
"Don't even think about it," she mumbled, leaning close to him so that she could reach past him to scoop out the meager contents of the hamper and then standing up again. He looked at her with a sheepish smile as she gave him a stern, reprimanding look. "Guess I'm not the only one who's bad at asking for help," she grumbled, which only made him smile harder at her, unable to think of anything to say. Part of his speechlessness was because it was true, and the other part was because it was Jane who he was looking at.
Chuckling at the fact that she seemed completely unaffected by holding his dirty clothes, he shook his head. "Guilty," he admitted, at which point her face softened slightly. His hand landed on her back and they began walking back toward the main living area of his apartment at the same time, completely in synch. After the rest of the clothes were in the wash and the machine had been started, Jane turned back around to face Kurt.
"You go take a shower first," she said, as if the matter had been decided.
He smirked at her slightly in surprise, then asked, "Are you sure?"
"Yes," she replied, "then you'll be able to relax sooner. You really shouldn't spend too much time on your feet. It's only your first day home. You should be resting." He was still smiling at her concern when she looked down at his bandage thoughtfully. "Do you… need help with this?" she asked, a hint of shyness in her voice. She looked down at the bandage that wound around him, then back up at him. No, he hadn't had a shirt on since the previous evening, but the bandage was almost like a shirt… without it, that would be a lot more skin than she'd seen him show up to that point. Not that that was a problem, of course…
It wasn't that she was uncomfortable with the idea of him shirtless. Not at all. This was Kurt, after all, the person she was most comfortable with of all. No, they didn't have a traditional relationship of any kind, it was just… She simply hadn't seen him without a shirt before. It was just one more thing that hadn't happened yet. However, she had a feeling that she wouldn't be able to say that in another few minutes. In a way, she realized, that would make things the tiniest bit more even – not that it would be anywhere close, but it was a start. After all, how many hours had he spent looking at pictures of her completely naked?
It's not the same, she reasoned. It wasn't, of course, but as she focused on his eyes, she knew that either way, it wasn't anything to worry about. He certainly didn't seem uncomfortable.
"Well," he began slowly, "I could probably do it, with the help of gravity… Just unhook it and let it unwind itself… but I guess it might be easier to have some help." She watched him in amusement, fairly sure that he was enjoying himself just then. "And since I've been told that I'm not very good at asking for help, I should probably take advantage of your… generosity…"
His smile turned into a grin, one that said, Your motivations may or may not be purely selfless, and I know it. She suddenly felt very self-conscious, and she had to wonder if he knew something about her motivations that she hadn't known. He didn't say it, however, stopping short of teasing her, for which she was grateful. How did he manage to have this effect on her, anyway?
"And besides," he added, his smile no longer quite so mischievous, "how can I say no to such a nice offer?" he asked, his eyes dancing as he looked at her.
The corners of her mouth turned up then. She couldn't decide what it was that she was feeling, like she was nervous but at the same time, she was perfectly comfortable. Then, before she could think about it and make the butterflies in her stomach beat any harder than they already were, she looked at him and simply said, "Okay." Then she reached up without another word and unhooked the small piece of metal whose short but sharp teeth had held the end of the bandage in place.
Just as she wondered what to do with the clasp, she looked up to see his already outstretched palm. Smiling because yet again, she swore that he had read her mind, she placed it in his hand for safekeeping while she worked on unwinding the bandage. Slowly and carefully, she rolled it up tightly at the free end at the same time as she slowly unrolled it from around him. This involved reaching all the way around him in order to transfer the growing roll from one hand to the other, which she did not mind at all. In a way, it was like giving him a hug, except that she had to keep moving, which was almost hard to make herself do. He didn't seem to mind what she was doing either, and she swore that he brushed against her at every opportunity he was given.
When she was finished, she took the metal piece back from him and used it to clasp the end of the bandage in place around the roll of bandage she now held, taking a step away from him and setting it temporarily on top of the washing machine, which was the only thing in reach. Stepping back to where she'd stood in front of him, more than a little bit inside his personal space, she couldn't help but notice his injuries from the explosion. There were more than a few large areas of splotchy color scattered seemingly at random, as if an artist had simply splattered the upper half of him with paint.
In reality, of course, the splotches of color were dark bruises that would probably take a long time to heal. She tried not to stare, knowing how much she hated it when strangers stared at her… But of course, it wasn't the same thing. She wasn't a stranger to him, and the sight of his injuries, now laid out there in front of her, made it impossible for her to pull her eyes away. All she could do was try not to look too surprised, but it was difficult for her. After all, those were reminders of just how close a call he'd had.
She felt the emotion building in her again, and her eyes began to feel suspiciously moist as she struggled to breathe normally. "Color definitely looks better on you," he said, breaking through her thoughts. Looking up at him gratefully, she couldn't help but smile, though she felt her face quivering slightly as her composure wavered. Before she could think of anything to say, he'd closed the very small distance between them and wrapped her in a gentle hug. Not tightly, because his injuries didn't allow it, but tightly enough that she could feel just how special she was to him. Her arms went around him as well, but more slowly and certainly more gently than she would have otherwise.
The fact that only one layer of cloth instead of two now separated them felt different to her. Leaning her face down against his bare shoulder, she couldn't help but move the bridge of her nose back and forth lightly against his skin, breathing a little more deeply than usual.
"Are you trying to keep me from going to shower?" he asked, at which time she looked up at him in surprise. She'd honestly forgotten that she'd told him to go take a shower.
"Oh, uh… not on purpose…" she told him. "I just… uh… You're very distracting," she finished, feeling slightly giddy. After all, look where she was. "Besides," she added, "I think you hugged me first."
Chuckling quietly, he pulled her just a little tighter and leaned over to kiss her temple again, before slowly loosening his grip on her. She quickly frowned in protest, which only made him smile harder at her. "Yeah, I guess I did," he admitted quietly. "But I'll be back shortly," he promised, his hands slowly moving down her arms, slowly tugging them back to the front of him as they slid down to her hands, just as hers had done a few minutes before. When his hands finally stopped, he was holding her hands. Smiling at her, he squeezed both her hands and then let go, backing up a few steps before actually turning away from her.
Her frown turned into a smile in a few seconds as she watched him. Yes, she'd rather have him close, but she couldn't begrudge him a few minutes to get clean. They both needed that. "Do you, uh…" she started, immediately feeling self-conscious about what she was trying to ask, no matter how innocently she meant the question. "Do you need help with anything else?"
His smile increased in intensity immediately, but he just shook his head. "I don't think so…" he mused, then added, a mischievous smile creeping across his face, "Why? What are you offering?" He couldn't help the amusement he felt as she blushed a deep red, and then he stepped forward towards her again, erasing all of their "progress" of the past few minutes – at least in terms of him moving in the direction of the shower – and took her hands again.
"Sorry," he told her, trying to hold back his laughter, "I couldn't resist." She just shook her head at him, the blush in her face beginning to subside. "You're so good to me," he said, looking at her warmly, letting go of her left hand so that he could hold his right hand up to her cheek. And then, before she could open her mouth to insist otherwise, he added, "No arguments, either. You are good to me. I only wish you were that good to yourself." When she looked up at him sheepishly, he could see that she'd been about to do exactly that – argue – and he just smiled broadly, obviously pleased with himself.
"I know you, Jane," he told her quietly. Then, going back to her original question, for which he'd given her such a hard time, he said, "As far as whether I need any more help…" She could see that he was being serious this time, thinking it through. "I don't think so, but if I do… I'll let you know. Okay? I promise."
Nodding her head first, she managed to say, "Yeah," quietly as she smiled up at him. He squeezed her right hand with his left again and then, once again, forced himself to let go of her so that he could go and take a shower. The sooner they were both done with that step, the sooner they could get on with their day, after all.
She hated to see him walk away, but then again, maybe she needed a moment to collect herself… because how could anyone be that sweet – as sweet as Kurt actually was – and be real? It seemed impossible. And yet… he was. He wasn't perfect of course, but she loved him for that, too. As he seemed to prove constantly, he was imperfectly perfect for her.
When the bathroom door closed behind him, Jane finally walked to the couch, pulling the throw blanket that sat at the end of it over her as she curled up to wait for her turn to shower. Looking out at the view of the street, she smiled.
I could get used to this, she thought with a smile. All of it.