rockabillyboy | AU

He's not entirely sure what they're doing here - they've kind of been avoiding putting labels on it - but it's definitely fun. They're definitely having fun. Jack has been working really hard on being a gentleman, which has been...challenging. He's been doing a lot of meditating, among other things. It's been partially successful.

Early that morning, he'd texted Blue with picnic?
Twelve finds him leaning back against Ghost, looking up at her window, arms folded loosely across his chest.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

formicine

"Do you." She raises an eyebrow at him with a questioning expression, but she doesn't push. Half the fun of this is not knowing everything. The road unfurls in front of them, the day sunny and the sky open, and nothing feels pressured or planned.

Jack looks really content, in his element, and it's good to watch. Blue curls closer on the seat, reaches over while everything's flat and empty, lacing her fingers with his.

From:

rockabillyboy

They've been spending a lot of time together. Jack has spent a handful of nights half-sleeping, desperately aware of his body as he lay full clothed in her bed. They'd touched, teasing. They didn't kiss. So, yes, he's got plans, and he hopes that Blue will be into them. He doesn't have to shift for a moment or two so he leaves his hand where it is, warm and tangled with hers.

"Tell me again," he says, "Why I'm not allowed to kiss you."

From:

formicine

If teenage boys think that girls aren't just as consumed by want as they are, it's probably just the fault of bodies that can hide it better. The upshot of not being able to kiss is a fantasy life filled with slow heated kisses, each one Blue's choice, and a guilt trip the length of route 64 about this beautiful boy choosing her to spend time on despite it.

Right now, that feels like a really good question.

"Once upon a time," she says, looking at him from under dark eyelashes. "There was a house full of seers. And all of them saw that the youngest one would kill her true love if she ever kissed him." Her storytelling is wry.

She turns over his hand, tracing the life line. "I don't know anything about true loves, Jack Vincent, but I'd rather not find out you're it when you drop dead."

From:

rockabillyboy

He loves kissing, loves it, but he also likes Blue enough that he's happy to put that to one side. For now at least. They're out of town now, in the countryside and Jack slows down, careful not to hit the point that will just turn them back the way they came.

"Here," he says, pulling in the side of the road, a river, a copse of trees. "This is us."

From:

formicine

She leans up to see, lighting up a little at the trees and the water, as he parks the car. "This is beautiful," she corrects, grinning, getting out of the car slowly and then faster as a grin spreads over her features. "How did you find it?"

It's lovely, and far enough outside everything to feel like it could be anywhere. Could be just for them, like he'd said. She turns to wait for him.

From:

rockabillyboy

"Just out for a drive."

He kills the engine but leaves his keys in the engine. He gets out of the car and grabs the bag from the trunk, jogs around to open Blue's door for her, smiling when she steps out. "Just thought it might be nice to get some time alone."

From:

formicine

"It is nice," she says, stretching up on tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck. There's a moment, close enough to kiss, where her breath sort of catches every time. She just presses her face against his neck instead, breathing him in: paints and car and something softer, something that's just Jack.

She Let's herself down to look up at him "I can take that," she nods at the bag. "If you want." She doubts he does, but Blue always asks.

From:

rockabillyboy

That closeness is dizzying, and Jack slips his free arm around her waist, holding her close for a moment before he lets her go. "I've got he," he says, but he does offer her his hand, wiggling his fingers.

From:

formicine

She grins and accepts his hand instead, tangles her fingers with his. It'd be easier, safer not to be close. To not be close to anyone, and she'd tried that for a long time. But when has Blue ever been really happy with the safe option? What about her suggests someone who doesn't want to have to catch her breath a little?

"You think," she says, "seeds and grass ever travel here from different worlds, like we do?"

From:

rockabillyboy

"I don't think about it," he says. drawing her with him through the trees to the spot he'd picked out days ago, down by the water, sheltered by the trees and the long grass. "I like the idea though. Cross-pollination. Nothing's ever really lost."

From:

formicine

She wanders down, drawn in by him, the peaceful place around them. It feels a little sacred, or maybe magical; not like Cabeswater and its magic as dangerous as it is wild, just -- separate from everything.

Blue nods, smiling at the idea, and that her whimsy and love of biology isn't irritating. "Maybe just becomes something new, here."

She plucks a dandelion clock from the long grass and holds it up between them. "Hey you. Make a wish."

From:

rockabillyboy

Jack thinks about it for a moment and then he leans in, pursing his lips to blow, scattering the seeds to the wind. He makes his wish and then he sets the bag down and picks up the blanket, spreading it out on the soft grass.

"Shucks," he says, fluttering his eyelashes at her. "I hope it comes true."

From:

formicine

She watches him lean to blow the seeds free, the way he thinks about it first, and there's something about that little gesture that turns over her stomach.

"Gosh," she says back with a teasing grin, letting out a bit more of the Virginia-Appalachian accent she grew up with. She smoothes out the edges of the blanket and kicks off her shoes, neatly, off the edge, wriggling her toes in the cool grass before sitting down. "Must be a real nice wish, looking like that."

From:

rockabillyboy

He's not about to admit it outloud, but he kind of loves it when her accent does that. His, hopelessly Californian, never does that. He toes out of his chucks and then bends to tug off his socks, too before sprawling out on the blanket beside her. He smiles up at her.

"Looking like what, exactly?"

From:

formicine

Blue looks down, grinning. "You know exactly like what. All bashful and Bambi eyes and that smile." She grins and flutters her lashes at him in demonstration. "If you tried, you wouldn't have to make wishes too often." She can feel her face flush, but it's funny, mostly because it's true.

He looks good, stretched out, all lean muscle and bright smile below her, and she shifts to lie on her side closer, elbow bent to prop her chin on one hand. The slip part of her dress is pushed up a little and she's very aware of there only being some uneven swathes of crochet between her skin and his body, the warmth of him next to her. Blue reaches to trace the lines of his tattoo, concentrating on that instead, and looks over at him. "You make good plans."

From:

rockabillyboy

"I do my best." He's intensely aware of the brush of her fingers on his bicep, tracing the lines of the lotus flower tattooed there. He smiles, looking up at her, reaching up to brush a strand of her hair back from her face. "Figured we could find something to do with a little privacy."

From:

formicine

Her heart picks up at the touch: she smiles and closes her eyes as he pushes her hair back.

The suggestion sends a lazy heat through her. "Did you?" She curls closer and moves her hand down to rest on his chest. Every miniscule movement feels loaded, nerves prickling, and she doesn't want to stop any more than she knows exactly where the lines are here. "And what did you have in mind?"

From:

rockabillyboy

Jack covers his hand with hers, tracing the delicate bones of her fingers with the tip of his. It makes him think of Bex, a little, her drawings, but he pushes that thought from his head. He curls his fingers around her wrist and then lifts her hand, bringing it to his lips so that he can graze his lips against her palm.

From:

formicine

Blue watches him, a little transfixed as he answers in actions: the trace of his fingers sends a shiver through her.

She lets out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, catches her lip in her teeth and looks at him. She feels full of a thousand things she wants, stilled by the effect he's having on her doing barely anything.

From:

rockabillyboy

They don't kiss. They can't kiss. Jack knows that. It thrums through his temples like a heartbeat. He looks up at her and then, fingers trembling, he reaches out and traces the neckline of her dress, his fingertips whisper soft against her skin.

From:

formicine

His fingers are hesitant and gentle on her skin, a question, a promise, and she lets her eyes flutter shut for a minute before meeting his. It feels like he must be able to feel her heart quick under his hand.

For so long, this terrifying warning against kissing has been a locked gate: this feels a little like sneaking over it, slipping through it. Or it could.

She wants it to.

Blue presses into his fingers a little and leans in to run a thumb over his lips, to brush lashes and nose in a slow stripe against his neck. She wants to kiss him, so badly it aches, but if she can't --

From:

rockabillyboy

He leans in, shifting, so that when he bends his head his eyelashes and lips brush against the smooth skin of Blue's chest. He's touched her but only ever over clothes before.

"God, Blue."

From:

formicine

He lowers his head, warm breath and lips soft on her skin, those gorgeous eyelashes tease-soft. Blue sighs and rolls back to allow him more access to her, a little bold, a little nervous; slides her hand into his hair.

Having chosen a dress that at core is a slip doesn't help, every movement a brush of satin, too thin to hide her body's reaction. His breath is warm through it and she would beg for his mouth just a hair lower. What's a kiss? What counts?

"What?" she whispers back, unsure of herself but smiling.

From:

rockabillyboy

She lies back, offers herself up like that and Jack feels so intensely, stupidly lucky for a moment. Lifting his head slightly, he can see the press of her nipples against thin fabric. A shiver goes straight through him and, feeling bolder and bolder, he shifts his mouth into the fabric of her dress, brushing one soft peak through the fabric.

"You're beautiful."