[ After considerable browsing, Jess ended up picking a cabin that nonetheless held shades of cottage. She would have leaned further into the latter but pickings were slimmer on short notice. At least there's wi-fi. Spotty, she was warned, but there enough to factor into the cost. There were similar accommodations with stabler amenities that were available, though not nearly as secluded. She wanted to be alone with him, out of reach. The kind of place where her phone never got more than three bars.
She kept it secret from him until it came time to tap the address into the GPS. The last turn was onto a dirt road, long and winding but even -- nothing his tires couldn't handle. She had a single bag packed into the backseat beside a cardboard box full of food (meal planning was up to him), wine and whiskey. Jess was going to pour them both a drink once they settled in. Maybe by then, she wouldn't need it as much, wouldn't feel quite so out of place among the leaves and pine needles. ]
[ It wasn't as if he had Betty anymore since no longer working for Wednesday. Not that Shadow didn't love the car but he didn't want his father keeping tabs on him which he was sure Odin would via the car. Bad enough that he questioned any bird resembling a raven that he came across.
Owning a car in New York City also wasn't cost effective whether it was trying to park or get gas and forget insurance.
So when Jess told him that his car was fine, he assumed she just meant a car and not a truck or SUV. She took care of the accommodations while he took care of the car rental. He still opted for a full size car than the cheapest economy class so his legs would have room in case she picked somewhere out of state.
Shadow had also picked up work as a bouncer for a couple of nights to make some extra money for trip regardless of how she repeatedly told him it wasn't necessary. They had some really nice steaks, scallops and salmon in a cooler in the trunk along with other groceries for breakfast lunch and dinner. The backseat held a box of stuff they could snack on the way.
He eyed the miles and drive time once she placed the location in the GPS but didn't utter a word. At least he wouldn't need to change out the ice in the cooler. She did him a favor. The way he organized the cooler, it would've been a pain in the ass.
The dirt road made him arch a brow but he didn't utter a word. Music had filled in the gaps of silence between conversations about work and the building they lived in. His hand reached over, gently holding hers for as much as Jessica would allow. Shadow hopped out and grabbed his duffle behind his seat then the box of food with a decision to come back for the cooler in the trunk if didn't grab it. ]
[ She had her suspicions about what the cash from his extra gigs had gone toward. If he had a cooler before this week, he wasn't storing it at her apartment. She wondered what was in it -- at the start of the drive and at its end, as she was reminded in unloading. Jess stretched her legs and cracked her neck first, patting Shadow on the ass as she passed him. Loose pebbles crunched under her boots as she rounded the back of the car to pop the trunk.
Truth be told, she missed Betty a little bit (not that she ever got to know her name). It would have been a rougher ride, getting out here to the sticks, but the old girl made up for it in personality. What she lacked in a bluetooth connection, she could fill in with her own music. Not to mention it was a car made for fucking.
She was fully over the loss by the time she and Shadow were playing the peanut gallery to each other's song selections.
Resisting the urge to peek inside, Jess hefted the cooler out of the trunk. Anything could be in there, from how little it weighed in her hands. Marshmallows or bricks. About to pass Shadow again on her way in, she searched his face for some reaction to the modest cabin she'd chosen. ]
Did you do a check for raccoons and serial killers?
And gods. [ He uttered under his breath while dusting off his hands after dropping off the duffle on the foot of the bed.
A smile between approval and adoration fixed on his lips as he looked at Jessica. ] Hungry?
[ If she wondered if he was, his stomach growled to answer for him. Then again, given his size, he needed a lot of calories. She had to be used to the amount that he ate. Maybe she'd even put on a few pounds with all the food around. Then again, they also had a way of burning calories together.
Shadow held the same excited smile as she joined him in the space as she had in his bed over a year ago. Should anyone have asked him then that they'd come to this, he wouldn't have believed them. ]
[ She opened her mouth to respond, only to be rudely interrupted by his stomach. That got a snort out of her, as well as a smile. On several occasions, men in her life had remarked on her utter disregard for limiting diet and calorie-counting. She never really got the appeal of that until Shadow. Jess had a fondness for watching him eat, one she didn't state but didn't hide either.
Setting the cooler on the nearest countertop, she told him with lingering warmth, ] Get started on dinner. I'll grab what's left and lock up the car.
[ After she stole a kiss from him. She knew that look -- He'd plant one on her if she didn't beat him to it. ]
[ His eyes might have rolled but his mouth twitched into a smirk as she snorted at the thunderous growl of his stomach protesting he'd even ask such a question. Yet the embarrassing moment was short lived as she stole a kiss and nearly distracted him from the task at hand.
The kiss and swats to his ass were all signs that she seemed happy getting away. Shadow worried that she might've only agreed to make him happy. He never once thought Jess lied to him but something twisted inside, remembering his wife's betrayal. Not even the affair with his so called best friend. The betrayal of letting him believe she loved him back.
Yet the worry was fleeting. Jessica didn't just go along with everything that he picked. In fact, she had picked this place. She met him halfway. No, she hadn't told him she loved him in words but she did in actions.
He returned to cooking, a little jump in place to will down the arousal she incited with the repeated brief contact. Shadow took the cooler down that had taken up a majority of the trunk space. He opened it and began to unload the contents inside, leaving out what he planned on making that night (steaks, scallops, asparagus spears and fingerling potatoes).
Potatoes were prepared first since they took the longest. Shadow left them sizzling on a cast iron pan before going to the steaks, seasoning them then doing the same with the scallops. Randomly, he hummed The Temptations 'Ain't Too Proud to Beg' and danced a little while cooking. He'd left beer in the cooler with the ice that remained since the groceries he brought filled the small fridge.
Jessica would probably not bat an eye at the food he'd brought given his appetite. Maybe. It was a lot. A meal to go with every wine she'd brought, beers for lunch, oranges to make fresh squeezed juice for breakfast. Eggs, bell peppers, onions, mushrooms, cheese, ham, bacon... ]
Steaks next, then asparagus and finally the scallops. Another ten minutes tops. Well, maybe another five to let the steaks rest. [ He paused his humming to give Jess the rundown. ] Oh, and there's french bread in the box that we can have with this or save it for breakfast. [ Shadow returned to humming and dancing as he moved. ]
[ Jess did what she stated she would, with only enough left in the car for one more trip there and back. Her bag was light, stuffed with nothing more than clothing and a handful of toiletries. She left her laptop in the city, along with her work. Her hard liquor (one bottle of whiskey, one bottle of vodka) rode in the box of dry goods and wine. Her birth control was tucked into a side pocket of her bag; she checked prior to leaving that he had condoms in his. Toss in a charging cable for their phones and that was them all taken care of.
Inside, she didn't bother to transfer her clothes to the bedroom dresser. There was a reading chair in the corner on which her bag fit just fine. Jess joined him in the kitchen, where she shrugged out of her jacket and draped it across the back of a dining chair. She leaned on the countertop, elbows to the surface, and watched him prep. Containing her amusement was no easy task, and she did an imperfect job of it. Before long, the scent had her mouth watering. ]
I like mine well done. [ A sin, she was aware. Nobody would ever accuse Jessica Jones of having a refined palate. Rounding the counter, she passed the box and instead peeked inside the freezer. ]
Jesus carpenting Christ. [ She was both impressed and taken aback. That was a lot of food. ] Is this what those extra shifts were about?
[ Admittedly, she was irrationally afraid it was to afford an engagement ring. ]
I remember. [ Was all he said, not reminding her of how she'd ruined a steak he'd made for her by shoving it in the microwave for a few minutes. Her steak was thrown on the flame now, minutes ahead of his.
He wasn't surprised that she didn't spend much time unpacking in the bedroom area. If he did buy a gift, Jessica rarely found it before being mentioned or given to her. She made it clear that she wasn't a fan of surprises so Shadow only surprised her with little things like meals or holiday and birthday presents. A smile tugged at his lips over her wearing the bracelet he'd given her.
After telling him how she wanted the cook on her steak, Jess moved to the fridge and clearly expressed her surprise. Shadow chuckled as he continued to cook. ]
Wait till you have these steaks and scallops. Everything's fresh.
[ As fresh as New York City could get things which was surprisingly fresh when traveling down to the port. Shadow also sprang on good beer and wine. ]
The juice is fresh squeezed. Florida oranges. Whatever we don't eat here, comes back with us so win-win.
[ They'd made a year together so an engagement ring wouldn't be far fetched but Shadow had his reservations that he hoped they'd talk out while away together. It wasn't just his failed marriage looming over him but that Jessica had parts of her life she hadn't felt comfortable to share with him yet.
Shadow was happy they'd made some headway not too long ago on keeping an open mind about ever having kids one day. He loved her and saw a future with her but wouldn't put himself in the same predicament he'd done before. She needed to see a future with him. He had to know that she honestly wanted that. ]
[ she's distinctly aware that this is the first time he's invited her to his apartment rather than hook up at hers. not snooping will be as much a test of stifling her interest as it will be of him to occupy it otherwise. he got to glean quite a bit about her from the stories on her walls (and ceiling) so it would, to use his favourite word, be fair. on the other hand, the less she knows about him, the better.
Jess has been dragging her feet home but, with a change of direction, adopts a more reasonable pace. the wind pushes at her where before it blew at her side and a cold, dry breeze numbs her face. it's obnoxiously sobering. at the door to his building, she turns her back to it, sheltering her fingertips to let him know she's there. ]
[no one has ever accused Serge of being detached; that is not his style. in his profession it is always better to walk away and yet. and yet. the lesson, it never seems to stick.
he's not convinced that Jessica is coming-- she has given no indication one way or another-- and so the vibration of the phone in his slack hand startles Serge from the light sleep he'd fallen back into. he rubs a hand over his head as he reads the screen with one eye and tosses it onto the messy bed, pushing himself upright.
there are certain features that one looks for in hidey-holes when one is constantly meandering between the borders of ex-con and current-con; ground floor locations, for one, no close neighbors, just to minimize damage, and of course, very good ventilation. which means that this place looks very much like the handful of other locations that he has had or will have-- with the exception of those small apartments where Matthieu and his look-alikes reside.
Serge grabs a cigarette from his nightstand and lights it before he pushes himself into the muted flower pattern of a silky robe; he belts it over his boxers.
there are a few locks on the door that are dragged open before Serge sticks his head into the night. the overpass nearby is muted at this hour and the overhead lights are the ugly orange that saves money.] Merde, [he hisses around the cigarette in his teeth at the bite of the wind,] did you walk? The cabs run all night long, if you did not know. [The door is opened far enough for her to come inside.]
[ obviously rhetorical. like the trains, there are far fewer cabs at this hour. the ones that passed her by already had passengers. calling for her own from dispatch might have wasted as much time as it saved her, and she's walked farther distances in worse weather.
besides, this way she gets to make him squirm with her cold hands.
stepping inside, she takes in the apartment. cheap and warm, open and unkempt. no pretension. she likes it, though she's not about to tell him. ]
I'll take a drink. [ she presumes he'd rather get her one than have her scrounge it up on her own. in the meantime, she slips her scarf over her head and her jacket down her arms. they'd look at home anywhere in here; she drapes them carelessly over the arm of the nearest chair. ]
[there are things that she won't have to snoop to see, chemistry sets and weapons; Serge isn't worried about those. Paper things-- documents, identifications-- those things are locked away and he doesn't think that her strength will do much to against his safes. he is a demolition expert, after all. he knows the rating of such things.] Spoken like a true guest. [but Serge's face cracks around a sleepy smile and he closes the door behind her before shuffling toward the kitchen. a trail of smoke follows him.
'unkempt' is a kind description of the mess, ah, but he is a creative. a few bottles on the counter are clinked around and two mason jars are pulled off an open shelf. a loose few-fingers worth of amber liquid are poured between them and he slides one over the counter toward her.] Bienvenue, [he says, sweeping an arm around to encompass the space.] Is it everything you hoped for?
[ she may have several reservations about the weapons but she locks them all up like he does his passports. he told her that first night that he runs guns. the shame is on her for continuing their association.
does he keep her in his contacts for the same reasons? that she brings danger on herself, relative to which the risk they pose each other is negligible. neither can be accused of getting in over their head. there's no need to protect one another from themselves.
he doesn't strike her as that pragmatically calculating. rather, he does, but that's not where it ends with him.
god, she needs that drink. her boots scuff the floor as she crosses to the counter. Jess hunches forward, settled on her elbows, and cradles the mason jar in her hands. ] More chemistry than I expected. Where were you when I needed sufentanil. [ An extremely potent analgesic.
she lifts her makeshift glass and starts to drink, gradually tipping it and craning her neck back as it's drained by a third. ]
[he watches her drink and his eyebrows raise, but it's not for the way she puts the liquor back. he's seen her drink before; he cannot be accused of much better.] Sufentanil? [he clicks his tongue and takes one last dragging inhale before crushing the cigarette out in a nearby ashtray.] That is some heavy shit. [and he knows what he is talking about.
a mouthful of his own drink is taken and Serge sinks a hip against the counter. it is not polite to ask her why but he considers it anyway.
perhaps he keeps her contact because she's just as fucked up as he is. they both wear it on their sleeves. does it need to be more complicated than that?]
[ she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, having not yet removed her fingerless gloves. then Jess pushes herself up, straightening to a mild slouch. her free hand remains braced to the table, supporting her lazy lean. ]
Shuts down a mindfuck. [ she concedes, with a quirk of her head, ] Of a kind. [ the virally communicated kind. she doesn't know how Mesmer or other supes like him do their thing and she's sure as hell not looking to find out. the information is probably useless, hence her willingness to share it. and if it's not? that's fine by her too. for whatever misgivings she has about Frenchie, he definitely doesn't deserve to be invaded and undone like that. ]
Bah oui. [he snorts.] Enough would shut down a horse too, hein? [another drink for himself. he's read the news stories, who in New York has not. 'assisted suicide.' Serge wonders-- he has seen the blood on her ceiling, after all.]
You could break it down, [it's a murmur, his mind spinning down the path Jessica has laid out for a moment, shutting down a mindfuck,] the thiophene, non, or up the lidocaine? [it must be the analgesic that does it. he takes another drink before he realizes that he's talking to himself and shrugs.] It is good indeed, if you want to drown on dry land.
Did she have swipe text?
[he raises his eyebrows.] The woman. With the phone.
[ her gaze is lifted from her glass to him as he thinks aloud. once there, it drifts from his eyes, his mouth, down his throat, though that doesn't stop her from listening. another piece of him is given shape as he puzzles out something on his own. his shrug shifts the light that spills on his silk robe and her eyes move to his. ]
She had earphones in. I think she was changing songs. [ As gracefully as he changes topics. Jess listlessly mocks up the essence of a shrug with a brief, flat-lipped frown. ] It was cute, so sue me.
[she gives you hope. it should not have been giving as flippantly as it had, certainly, handed to her in wry letters-- but it remains true. a small thing, good because it is, all by itself. easy to forget that such things exist.
for a very brief second he lets himself consider the 'what if', that if he had met Jessica before everything that had happened with Mallory had happened... Madame might have liked her. Butcher, too.
ah, no use wasting time on such thoughts. Jessica looks like a wraith in the low lighting of the kitchen. an avenging New York angel. Serge shakes his head and finishes his drink.] Do you want to sleep?
[ In the short silence she expected to be given more grief by him, Jess finishes her own drink. it sears her throat as it goes, the first swallow hissing like the head of a snake, and the rest pleasantly warm along its path. ]
You gonna sleep with me? [ The base of the mason jar scrapes against the counter as she slides it from her, in no particular direction. ]
[he assumes she's asking about sex-- it is par for their general course. and he knows she's just come from the bed of someone else so Serge wonders if what she's really asking is if he cares that she's just crawled out of some nameless guy's bed.
he doesn't. not really.] Oui, [he says, a crooked smile splitting his face for a moment,] the couch, it is very uncomfortable to spend the night on.
[if she's going to ask let her ask. if she's not then she has her answer.]
[ at this point, she's asking about either: sex or sleep. it never crosses her mind that he might give a shit that she already had sex once tonight. ]
Good. [ with a tired grin, she looks down at her hands as she strips off a fingerless glove. one, then the other. her hips moor her to the counter's edge. as they push off and her weight is redistributed between her feet, she keeps a safe grip on the table. it falls away, fingers slipping off last, as she ambles toward the bed. she unbuttons her jeans, intending to get them, her socks and her boots out of the way all at once, as soon as her ass hits the mattress. ]
[Serge follows her without comment, marking the small sway in her steps as she releases her grip on his crowded little table and makes her way across the dim, unfamiliar space. When Jessica sits on one side of the bed he moves to the other and collapses back onto it, stretching out before lacing his hands under his head and turning enough to watch her strip down. her hips make sharp edges in the light through the high windows.] We are starting to make a habit of this.
[ her pants are shoved down her legs and shucked off with her shoes. she shifts further back onto the mattress, pulling her feet up off the floor. Jess turns at the waist to see how he's settled in. right as he notes that this is becoming a regular arrangement for them, she's envisioning him reclining on her bed. the outlines of him match up closely with that memory. maybe it's deja vu. maybe she's just drunk. ]
A bad one. [ she plucks at the silk belt lain slack across his waist, the ties slipping apart. the robe is pushed open, her hand sliding up under it, palm to his chest. she eases herself down along him, lying half on top of him and half at his side. Jess noses at the line of his jaw, stubble raking her lips. ]
You are a pessimist, ma mie. [the old nickname slips out with the murmur as his lids close with the slip of her face along his. he doesn't try to take it back or point it out, either. it's just what is. his closest arm moves so that he can card fingers through the thick hair at the base of her neck.] Or do you just think if you say it, that it will come true?
[because they might not be actively good for each other, but there are worse things than this, surely?]
[ she minds the endearment less than she did before, less than she may one day pretend to again. it’s leagues apart from “love” or “pet” and she has no associations for it beyond him. besides, the “little prince” she threw at him is far worse, and she won’t be retiring it after one use. ]
The former. [ Jess muses without wasting much actual thought on it. neither option is entirely accurate.
there are no “what ifs” for her to ponder. if she met Frenchie before Kilgrave, she would have written him off as a mistake as soon as his drug habit or criminal leanings came to light. and if it hadn’t by the time she was abducted, all the worse for him. he’d be dead, like Ruben, like Luke very nearly was. with her tormentor truly, irrevocably dead, this time around what lies ahead may not be so morbid. but she can still hear the snap of his neck in her dreams; she’s not ready to bank on that. ]
What are you? [ A lingering kiss to his throat, then she relaxed against him with a long withheld sigh. mumbling, ] Only smug assholes say realist.
Mm well I cannot deny that I am certainly a smug asshole, [he murmurs, smiling toward the ceiling and letting his fingers run from her hair to her shoulder and down her arm as Jessica settles against him. it is a nice place to be.] But non. I am an existentialist. "Tout a été compris, sauf comment vivre." [he clucks his tongue.] "Everything has been figured out, except how to live."
[she knows about the drugs, about the mafia, about the guns. but how would her scales have tipped to have a supe-killer on her side against Kilgrave? a team of them? all that Jessica knows is that he was hired to hurt her-- Serge does not think that she has found the right information on him, the information that would have told her the truth. if she knew that...
she'll learn, eventually, if they continue this. serge does not like to think about it. about what will happen when she does. he should tell her, but they but continue to say that this is nothing, this thing.]
[ eventually is drawing nearer and nearer. she'd have gotten to it already if she could keep a steady pace. instead, she stops and starts, stumbles and sprints. tonight might end up as the night she abandons any hope of reversing course.
liquor has her languid from head to toe, her maelstrom of thoughts calmed to gently swirling eddies. her last reserves of energy flow invisibly beneath the surface. she could lie her for hours as easily as she could sit up climb on top of him. Jess decides she is content as she is, declines the effort of any further choices. the two of them can fuck in the morning. ]
Hell is other people. [ That's the only Sartre quote she remembers from a lifetime ago. its origin, an intro to philosophy class or an ex-boyfriend's off-broadway show, is lost to her. ]
[his eyebrows jump up; he did not expect her to know Sarte.] Ah. I think Monsieur Sarte would have liked you. You do not even try to make yourself happy. [it is more an observation of habits than any sort of insult-- Jessica is obvious enough about it. he has not pried.
his fingers rub back and forth against her elbow as a yawn splits his lips. this is too comfortable for what they are but they have been this way from the beginning, have they not? even when they are fighting there is something too easy in it.] I have bacon, [he says, his voice a murmur as he lets his eyes close.]
[ an astute observation, phrased less judgmentally than she usually gets it. she doubts JP's admiration would have been mutual. philosophers are so up their own asses. besides, the world is miserable enough without a No Exit sequel imparting the wisdom "hell is yourself, too."
Jess shuts her eyes, the blackness behind them swaying imperceptibly. at the random mention of bacon, her lip twitches, the closest her body can muster to a chuckle. ]
Oh la la. [ sinking into sleep, she can't come up with anything cleverer or more relevant than that. ]
( he wouldn't call them partners. every so often, he pays her to find some shit out for him and every so often...well, she doesn't need him for much. sometimes, they fuck around with each other, sometimes, they fight with each other, sometimes he doesn't see her for a long fuckin' time.
he's found her passed out in her office before when he's come a calling and she's found him bloody and bruised when she's made her rare appearances.
today, he's the one that's coming to see her. he doesn't have anything he needs done so this is actually a social visit. he doesn't know why the fuck he's doing that considering she's not the type of woman that you just find for small talk.
she's not in her office when he shows up so he decides that he's just going to wait there. he slides down the wall next to her door, stretches his legs out and leans back, actually dozing off after a few minutes.
not exactly really smart considering he's leaving himself open but whatever. he's armed, he'll get off a shot or two before he dies. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
She kept it secret from him until it came time to tap the address into the GPS. The last turn was onto a dirt road, long and winding but even -- nothing his tires couldn't handle. She had a single bag packed into the backseat beside a cardboard box full of food (meal planning was up to him), wine and whiskey. Jess was going to pour them both a drink once they settled in. Maybe by then, she wouldn't need it as much, wouldn't feel quite so out of place among the leaves and pine needles. ]
no subject
Owning a car in New York City also wasn't cost effective whether it was trying to park or get gas and forget insurance.
So when Jess told him that his car was fine, he assumed she just meant a car and not a truck or SUV. She took care of the accommodations while he took care of the car rental. He still opted for a full size car than the cheapest economy class so his legs would have room in case she picked somewhere out of state.
Shadow had also picked up work as a bouncer for a couple of nights to make some extra money for trip regardless of how she repeatedly told him it wasn't necessary. They had some really nice steaks, scallops and salmon in a cooler in the trunk along with other groceries for breakfast lunch and dinner. The backseat held a box of stuff they could snack on the way.
He eyed the miles and drive time once she placed the location in the GPS but didn't utter a word. At least he wouldn't need to change out the ice in the cooler. She did him a favor. The way he organized the cooler, it would've been a pain in the ass.
The dirt road made him arch a brow but he didn't utter a word. Music had filled in the gaps of silence between conversations about work and the building they lived in. His hand reached over, gently holding hers for as much as Jessica would allow. Shadow hopped out and grabbed his duffle behind his seat then the box of food with a decision to come back for the cooler in the trunk if didn't grab it. ]
no subject
Truth be told, she missed Betty a little bit (not that she ever got to know her name). It would have been a rougher ride, getting out here to the sticks, but the old girl made up for it in personality. What she lacked in a bluetooth connection, she could fill in with her own music. Not to mention it was a car made for fucking.
She was fully over the loss by the time she and Shadow were playing the peanut gallery to each other's song selections.
Resisting the urge to peek inside, Jess hefted the cooler out of the trunk. Anything could be in there, from how little it weighed in her hands. Marshmallows or bricks. About to pass Shadow again on her way in, she searched his face for some reaction to the modest cabin she'd chosen. ]
Did you do a check for raccoons and serial killers?
no subject
A smile between approval and adoration fixed on his lips as he looked at Jessica. ] Hungry?
[ If she wondered if he was, his stomach growled to answer for him. Then again, given his size, he needed a lot of calories. She had to be used to the amount that he ate. Maybe she'd even put on a few pounds with all the food around. Then again, they also had a way of burning calories together.
Shadow held the same excited smile as she joined him in the space as she had in his bed over a year ago. Should anyone have asked him then that they'd come to this, he wouldn't have believed them. ]
no subject
Setting the cooler on the nearest countertop, she told him with lingering warmth, ] Get started on dinner. I'll grab what's left and lock up the car.
[ After she stole a kiss from him. She knew that look -- He'd plant one on her if she didn't beat him to it. ]
no subject
The kiss and swats to his ass were all signs that she seemed happy getting away. Shadow worried that she might've only agreed to make him happy. He never once thought Jess lied to him but something twisted inside, remembering his wife's betrayal. Not even the affair with his so called best friend. The betrayal of letting him believe she loved him back.
Yet the worry was fleeting. Jessica didn't just go along with everything that he picked. In fact, she had picked this place. She met him halfway. No, she hadn't told him she loved him in words but she did in actions.
He returned to cooking, a little jump in place to will down the arousal she incited with the repeated brief contact. Shadow took the cooler down that had taken up a majority of the trunk space. He opened it and began to unload the contents inside, leaving out what he planned on making that night (steaks, scallops, asparagus spears and fingerling potatoes).
Potatoes were prepared first since they took the longest. Shadow left them sizzling on a cast iron pan before going to the steaks, seasoning them then doing the same with the scallops. Randomly, he hummed The Temptations 'Ain't Too Proud to Beg' and danced a little while cooking. He'd left beer in the cooler with the ice that remained since the groceries he brought filled the small fridge.
Jessica would probably not bat an eye at the food he'd brought given his appetite. Maybe. It was a lot. A meal to go with every wine she'd brought, beers for lunch, oranges to make fresh squeezed juice for breakfast. Eggs, bell peppers, onions, mushrooms, cheese, ham, bacon... ]
Steaks next, then asparagus and finally the scallops. Another ten minutes tops. Well, maybe another five to let the steaks rest. [ He paused his humming to give Jess the rundown. ] Oh, and there's french bread in the box that we can have with this or save it for breakfast. [ Shadow returned to humming and dancing as he moved. ]
no subject
Inside, she didn't bother to transfer her clothes to the bedroom dresser. There was a reading chair in the corner on which her bag fit just fine. Jess joined him in the kitchen, where she shrugged out of her jacket and draped it across the back of a dining chair. She leaned on the countertop, elbows to the surface, and watched him prep. Containing her amusement was no easy task, and she did an imperfect job of it. Before long, the scent had her mouth watering. ]
I like mine well done. [ A sin, she was aware. Nobody would ever accuse Jessica Jones of having a refined palate. Rounding the counter, she passed the box and instead peeked inside the freezer. ]
Jesus carpenting Christ. [ She was both impressed and taken aback. That was a lot of food. ] Is this what those extra shifts were about?
[ Admittedly, she was irrationally afraid it was to afford an engagement ring. ]
no subject
He wasn't surprised that she didn't spend much time unpacking in the bedroom area. If he did buy a gift, Jessica rarely found it before being mentioned or given to her. She made it clear that she wasn't a fan of surprises so Shadow only surprised her with little things like meals or holiday and birthday presents. A smile tugged at his lips over her wearing the bracelet he'd given her.
After telling him how she wanted the cook on her steak, Jess moved to the fridge and clearly expressed her surprise. Shadow chuckled as he continued to cook. ]
Wait till you have these steaks and scallops. Everything's fresh.
[ As fresh as New York City could get things which was surprisingly fresh when traveling down to the port. Shadow also sprang on good beer and wine. ]
The juice is fresh squeezed. Florida oranges. Whatever we don't eat here, comes back with us so win-win.
[ They'd made a year together so an engagement ring wouldn't be far fetched but Shadow had his reservations that he hoped they'd talk out while away together. It wasn't just his failed marriage looming over him but that Jessica had parts of her life she hadn't felt comfortable to share with him yet.
Shadow was happy they'd made some headway not too long ago on keeping an open mind about ever having kids one day. He loved her and saw a future with her but wouldn't put himself in the same predicament he'd done before. She needed to see a future with him. He had to know that she honestly wanted that. ]
no subject
[ she's distinctly aware that this is the first time he's invited her to his apartment rather than hook up at hers. not snooping will be as much a test of stifling her interest as it will be of him to occupy it otherwise. he got to glean quite a bit about her from the stories on her walls (and ceiling) so it would, to use his favourite word, be fair. on the other hand, the less she knows about him, the better.
Jess has been dragging her feet home but, with a change of direction, adopts a more reasonable pace. the wind pushes at her where before it blew at her side and a cold, dry breeze numbs her face. it's obnoxiously sobering. at the door to his building, she turns her back to it, sheltering her fingertips to let him know she's there. ]
Knock knock
thanks for the de-salting
he's not convinced that Jessica is coming-- she has given no indication one way or another-- and so the vibration of the phone in his slack hand startles Serge from the light sleep he'd fallen back into. he rubs a hand over his head as he reads the screen with one eye and tosses it onto the messy bed, pushing himself upright.
there are certain features that one looks for in hidey-holes when one is constantly meandering between the borders of ex-con and current-con; ground floor locations, for one, no close neighbors, just to minimize damage, and of course, very good ventilation. which means that this place looks very much like the handful of other locations that he has had or will have-- with the exception of those small apartments where Matthieu and his look-alikes reside.
Serge grabs a cigarette from his nightstand and lights it before he pushes himself into the muted flower pattern of a silky robe; he belts it over his boxers.
there are a few locks on the door that are dragged open before Serge sticks his head into the night. the overpass nearby is muted at this hour and the overhead lights are the ugly orange that saves money.] Merde, [he hisses around the cigarette in his teeth at the bite of the wind,] did you walk? The cabs run all night long, if you did not know. [The door is opened far enough for her to come inside.]
anytime
[ obviously rhetorical. like the trains, there are far fewer cabs at this hour. the ones that passed her by already had passengers. calling for her own from dispatch might have wasted as much time as it saved her, and she's walked farther distances in worse weather.
besides, this way she gets to make him squirm with her cold hands.
stepping inside, she takes in the apartment. cheap and warm, open and unkempt. no pretension. she likes it, though she's not about to tell him. ]
I'll take a drink. [ she presumes he'd rather get her one than have her scrounge it up on her own. in the meantime, she slips her scarf over her head and her jacket down her arms. they'd look at home anywhere in here; she drapes them carelessly over the arm of the nearest chair. ]
no subject
'unkempt' is a kind description of the mess, ah, but he is a creative. a few bottles on the counter are clinked around and two mason jars are pulled off an open shelf. a loose few-fingers worth of amber liquid are poured between them and he slides one over the counter toward her.] Bienvenue, [he says, sweeping an arm around to encompass the space.] Is it everything you hoped for?
no subject
does he keep her in his contacts for the same reasons? that she brings danger on herself, relative to which the risk they pose each other is negligible. neither can be accused of getting in over their head. there's no need to protect one another from themselves.
he doesn't strike her as that pragmatically calculating. rather, he does, but that's not where it ends with him.
god, she needs that drink. her boots scuff the floor as she crosses to the counter. Jess hunches forward, settled on her elbows, and cradles the mason jar in her hands. ] More chemistry than I expected. Where were you when I needed sufentanil. [ An extremely potent analgesic.
she lifts her makeshift glass and starts to drink, gradually tipping it and craning her neck back as it's drained by a third. ]
no subject
a mouthful of his own drink is taken and Serge sinks a hip against the counter. it is not polite to ask her why but he considers it anyway.
perhaps he keeps her contact because she's just as fucked up as he is. they both wear it on their sleeves. does it need to be more complicated than that?]
no subject
[ she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, having not yet removed her fingerless gloves. then Jess pushes herself up, straightening to a mild slouch. her free hand remains braced to the table, supporting her lazy lean. ]
Shuts down a mindfuck. [ she concedes, with a quirk of her head, ] Of a kind. [ the virally communicated kind. she doesn't know how Mesmer or other supes like him do their thing and she's sure as hell not looking to find out. the information is probably useless, hence her willingness to share it. and if it's not? that's fine by her too. for whatever misgivings she has about Frenchie, he definitely doesn't deserve to be invaded and undone like that. ]
no subject
You could break it down, [it's a murmur, his mind spinning down the path Jessica has laid out for a moment, shutting down a mindfuck,] the thiophene, non, or up the lidocaine? [it must be the analgesic that does it. he takes another drink before he realizes that he's talking to himself and shrugs.] It is good indeed, if you want to drown on dry land.
Did she have swipe text?
[he raises his eyebrows.] The woman. With the phone.
no subject
She had earphones in. I think she was changing songs. [ As gracefully as he changes topics. Jess listlessly mocks up the essence of a shrug with a brief, flat-lipped frown. ] It was cute, so sue me.
no subject
for a very brief second he lets himself consider the 'what if', that if he had met Jessica before everything that had happened with Mallory had happened... Madame might have liked her. Butcher, too.
ah, no use wasting time on such thoughts. Jessica looks like a wraith in the low lighting of the kitchen. an avenging New York angel. Serge shakes his head and finishes his drink.] Do you want to sleep?
no subject
You gonna sleep with me? [ The base of the mason jar scrapes against the counter as she slides it from her, in no particular direction. ]
no subject
he doesn't. not really.] Oui, [he says, a crooked smile splitting his face for a moment,] the couch, it is very uncomfortable to spend the night on.
[if she's going to ask let her ask. if she's not then she has her answer.]
no subject
Good. [ with a tired grin, she looks down at her hands as she strips off a fingerless glove. one, then the other. her hips moor her to the counter's edge. as they push off and her weight is redistributed between her feet, she keeps a safe grip on the table. it falls away, fingers slipping off last, as she ambles toward the bed. she unbuttons her jeans, intending to get them, her socks and her boots out of the way all at once, as soon as her ass hits the mattress. ]
no subject
no subject
A bad one. [ she plucks at the silk belt lain slack across his waist, the ties slipping apart. the robe is pushed open, her hand sliding up under it, palm to his chest. she eases herself down along him, lying half on top of him and half at his side. Jess noses at the line of his jaw, stubble raking her lips. ]
no subject
[because they might not be actively good for each other, but there are worse things than this, surely?]
no subject
The former. [ Jess muses without wasting much actual thought on it. neither option is entirely accurate.
there are no “what ifs” for her to ponder. if she met Frenchie before Kilgrave, she would have written him off as a mistake as soon as his drug habit or criminal leanings came to light. and if it hadn’t by the time she was abducted, all the worse for him. he’d be dead, like Ruben, like Luke very nearly was. with her tormentor truly, irrevocably dead, this time around what lies ahead may not be so morbid. but she can still hear the snap of his neck in her dreams; she’s not ready to bank on that. ]
What are you? [ A lingering kiss to his throat, then she relaxed against him with a long withheld sigh. mumbling, ] Only smug assholes say realist.
no subject
[she knows about the drugs, about the mafia, about the guns. but how would her scales have tipped to have a supe-killer on her side against Kilgrave? a team of them? all that Jessica knows is that he was hired to hurt her-- Serge does not think that she has found the right information on him, the information that would have told her the truth. if she knew that...
she'll learn, eventually, if they continue this. serge does not like to think about it. about what will happen when she does. he should tell her, but they but continue to say that this is nothing, this thing.]
no subject
liquor has her languid from head to toe, her maelstrom of thoughts calmed to gently swirling eddies. her last reserves of energy flow invisibly beneath the surface. she could lie her for hours as easily as she could sit up climb on top of him. Jess decides she is content as she is, declines the effort of any further choices. the two of them can fuck in the morning. ]
Hell is other people. [ That's the only Sartre quote she remembers from a lifetime ago. its origin, an intro to philosophy class or an ex-boyfriend's off-broadway show, is lost to her. ]
no subject
his fingers rub back and forth against her elbow as a yawn splits his lips. this is too comfortable for what they are but they have been this way from the beginning, have they not? even when they are fighting there is something too easy in it.] I have bacon, [he says, his voice a murmur as he lets his eyes close.]
no subject
Jess shuts her eyes, the blackness behind them swaying imperceptibly. at the random mention of bacon, her lip twitches, the closest her body can muster to a chuckle. ]
Oh la la. [ sinking into sleep, she can't come up with anything cleverer or more relevant than that. ]
finally I AM HERE
he's found her passed out in her office before when he's come a calling and she's found him bloody and bruised when she's made her rare appearances.
today, he's the one that's coming to see her. he doesn't have anything he needs done so this is actually a social visit. he doesn't know why the fuck he's doing that considering she's not the type of woman that you just find for small talk.
she's not in her office when he shows up so he decides that he's just going to wait there. he slides down the wall next to her door, stretches his legs out and leans back, actually dozing off after a few minutes.
not exactly really smart considering he's leaving himself open but whatever. he's armed, he'll get off a shot or two before he dies. )