Chapter Text
Baby, you'll come knockin' on my front door
Same old line you used to use before
And I said yeah, well, what am I supposed to do?
I didn't know what I was gettin' into
-Tom Petty and Stevie Nicks (Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around)
Veronica rode the elevator of her building up to the fourth floor. Her feet were killing her and her pantyhose were riding down. She hated that men didn’t have to wear heels and hose and once again cursed the patriarchy for her current discomfort. She had just come from a long day at the office where she had stayed late that night to make sure there was nothing pressing that needed to get done. It was Friday and she knew everyone else in the firm was heading out to happy hours and dates but she was a workaholic and she hated walking into a giant pile of work waiting to be done Monday mornings. It was a big case-- a career making one-- she was working on and she didn't want to leave any stone unturned with it.
Outside of work, she hated most of the snobby types she worked with and wasn’t too keen to knock back expensive cocktails with them on her night off, despite the advice that it was good for networking. She despised networking anyway.
And besides, it had been some time since she'd had a Friday night date to worry about leaving the office on time for. Not that that mattered. She was fine being alone. Currently, all she really wanted to do was go home, kick her shoes off, yank the hose off, and open a bottle of wine— or two— and knock it back in front of the television before passing out in her bed with her vibrator between her legs.
She turned the key and pushed inside her modestly attired one bedroom in the nice— but not nicest— part of town. It was too big for her to live in alone, really. She had bought it when-
Well, when and why she bought it wasn't the point. She had made the down payment for it and in fifteen years of mortgage payments it would be all hers. Hers alone. And she was fine being alone. She really was. She should really think about getting a cat. She could name it JFK Jr.
Once inside she slipped her heels off with a sigh of comfort and cracked her toes in pleasure as they curled around her plush carpeting and locked the door behind her. There had been mail in her box outside and she took a minute to finally go through it. Bill, bill, credit card application... Nothing of note. Other than a stray note from her parents she never really got personal mail anyway. For awhile she had hoped she'd get a letter from-
It didn't matter from who. You are happy to be alone, she kept telling herself. She threw the mail on her counter and walked into her bedroom unbuttoning her blazer with one hand and her heels in the other when she glanced up and saw-
The last fucking person she ever expected to see. “How the fuck did you get in here?” She asked angrily as she spotted him laying on her bed with a book in his hand.
“Hey, Veronica. I should have a word with the super, the locks on the front door and your unit are garbage. What asshole installed them? I’ve been doing handy work lately on the side. I’ll replace them later.”
“You broke into my apartment?” She retorted, aghast. “Fuck you, I’m calling the cops right this-”
“Oh relax. Jesus Veronica, I’m kidding. You gave me a key, remember? I did live here for a hot minute,” he reminded her as he continued flipping the pages in her book. She did remember. When they had been going out. A year ago. In a fit of anger she took her heel that was still in her hand and lobbed it at his head. Unfortunately her aim sucked and he was able to easily dodge it. She remembered that she had gone to law school on an academic scholarship, not a sports one.
“You’re supposed to give the key back when you move out in the middle of the day when a girl’s at work like the coward you are!” She retorted to him with more anger than she realized she still had pent up on the matter. It had been a full year since she’d seen him last. And she hadn’t heard much— if any— about where he had even gone after taking off on her back then.
He put the book down and his smirk had begun to fade as he realized just how pissed she was. He had been looking through her copy of We Have Always Lived in the Castle. She hated watching him read it, especially since he had given it to her and despite everything it was still one of her fondest memories of him.
It was a first printing and he had given it to her for Christmas. It had probably set him back a pretty penny but he had obtained it for her nonetheless telling her not to worry about it. She remembered wiping a tear from her eye when she unwrapped the paper and realized what it was, smiling up at him and kissing him in thanks. Despite his faults he had always been good at Christmases.
He was only reading it now though because it had been his gift to her she knew. Despite how badly their relationship ended, it still held a special place on her bookshelf. For him, she thought, this was proof that she hadn’t completely forgotten him.
“Yeah, well, mistakes were made all around,” he muttered, quietly as he gently put the old book on the side table near her bed.
“No, I’m fairly certain you made the mistakes, I just had to clean them up.” He didn’t have a cutting comeback for her. His face was running the gambit of emotions now.
She felt herself pulled to the memory of the time they ran into each other at a 7/11 back in her hometown ten years prior. She had been young-- barely eighteen-- and heading to a party with friends. He’d been the sexy loner type with a motorcycle getting himself a turbo dog and a slushie at the convenience store, freshly transferred into her high school. He’d raked his eyes over her in her ludicrous party clothes and she’d felt them burn into her soul.
"You gonna pull a super chug with that?” She had smiled, coyly feeling the attraction as instant as he did.
“Nah, but if you’re nice I’ll let you buy me a slushy,” she shamelessly flirted back.
It had been an intense and very young love at first. Strip croquet in the backyard of her parents house. Late nights spent sneaking off on his motorcycle at all hours of the night. And ditching classes in school just to be together. They had been young and free and so into each other. She had always suspected she'd been one of the few people he'd ever opened up to properly. He’d confessed to living a lonely life and that his mother had died young and his father couldn’t stop moving them around. She had admitted her anger over the injustices of the world and how she felt trapped in her friendships with the alpha girls of their school who were needlessly cruel. They had agreed that the world sucked, but in each other’s arms in the moonlight it hadn’t felt that way. As cheesy as it sounded, it had felt right.
But it crashed as quickly as it began. They were teenagers and just graduating school after all. School ended and with it she had gotten into college that fall. It was Ivy League, of course— Harvard, but she hated bragging to anyone about that of course— and he hadn’t even applied anywhere.
After that, they barely spoke. Well, except on occasions when they'd run into each other— he had moved to Boston as well-- and had fallen into a pattern of random hook ups on occasion. That had happened several times over the next four years it had taken her to get her poli-sci degree on the pre-law track.
It wasn't until she had begun her internship that they had run into each other properly. He was doing all sorts of work. Construction sites, random handyman stuff, bouncing. He'd cobbled together a living out of odd jobs and other freelancing work. She didn't care, when they started to have real conversations she had felt the old pull back to them and instead of randomly hooking up... they decided to make a go of it for real. They were together for four full years, living together, committed. She'd put the down payment on her apartment for the two of them. Fuck, she thought she’d marry the asshole.
Except.
It was stupid shit mostly. Veronica thought that they were adults now and she wanted an adult life. He was still trapped in his image of himself as the rebel loner guy on the motorcycle more often than she liked. She had wanted to buy a home and settle down. She had even started tentatively talking about marriage and even— dare she say it— a baby? He’d table all of that. On top of it all he wanted her to drop everything and hop on the back of his bike to ride cross country all the time. Like she didn't have a career. A life to lead. Veronica had a hard time admitting that she had no idea who was kidding who.
But it was that day in October last year when she got home from work and found his stuff gone that broke her. The super had told her he had seen him packing his stuff up and taking it out but he had assumed she had already known, not that he was breaking the news to her. It had hurt. It had fucking hurt a lot. In some ways she would've preferred a hardcore break up fight to him just running off like that. It had been a year.
And him laying on her bed like this had been her first time seeing him since.
“Veronica I-” He said almost seriously. As if it finally dawned on him what an ass he really was. She wasn’t in the mood to be reasonable though. A year. A fucking year with no calls and no letters.
“Just get out. I- I don’t want- Fuck. Why are you here?” He sighed and ran a hand through his black hair. It was longer than he normally kept it, she realized. He still looks hot when he does that, she realized despite her better efforts to mitigate appraising him looks-wise. “Jesus JD it’s been over a year since you took off.”
“Yeah, well, I’m back,” he told her flicking his gaze up and down her business casual attire like he wanted to rip the buttons off with his teeth. She looked down at him, propped up on her bed like he owned the place. Fuck, why does he have to be so hot? Even still? “I'm sorry. Last year I just... I got on my bike and… rode. For a long time. But I’m back now, okay?”
“Wow. That's a great explanation. You’re back. Cool. You needed to find your smile or some bullshit like that.” She was shaking her head, unable to really process the feelings she was feeling. How many nights had she spent crying over this asshole? How many nights had she wished he’d walk right back into her life and kiss her and tell her he was sorry? “Whatever. Fine. You’re back. That doesn’t explain why you’re lolling in my bed like you still have a spot there.” She crossed her arms trying to keep her face as emotionless as possible. Or at the very least set to pissed. Even if a part of her was desperate to just jump into that bed and press herself close to him like a whole year hadn’t gone by. Fuckin A Sawyer, what’s your damage?
“Maybe I could?” He asked casually, treading on tricky water unable to properly tell her mood. “I mean, we used to… you know… have an arrangement?” He said suggestively. “Before we started going out we’d just… you know. That was good.” He paused before quietly adding, “it was simple.”
Veronica was floored. She knew what he was talking about.
Sex. He was talking about sex. Of course he was. Before they’d officially become a couple for the second time a few years ago, their relationship was filled with one off hook ups and booty calls. Oh my god, he does not think we can just pick up like-
Shaking her head she walked over to her dresser to seethe. The trouble was, despite all her rationale thoughts, she did want him. She wanted him so fucking bad it made her knees weak and her heart tremble. Seeing him in her bed again despite her anger and her hurt had seemed... normal. Right.
She should kick him out. Call the cops like she said she would. Tell him to never talk to her ever again. Only...
Only she realized there was something in her drawer. Something she had been given as a gag gift when she had gone back to Sherwood for Betty Finn’s bachelorette party the month before. She opened her drawer. It was right where she had tucked it away, waiting to one day be used. She knew that this was bound to end this way. She never did have any self control around him.
If this was going to happen though, then it had to be on her terms. She had to be in control.
“Take off your clothes,” she told him in a low voice, but stern. She had no idea what she was doing. This was her ex. Her ex— as it seemed now— with benefits, but still her ex. The one that had vanished on her. There wasn’t just baggage between the two of them, there was a matching luggage set.
“Sorry?” He asked, his eyebrows quirking. She began undressing herself, carefully untucking the blouse from her skirt after unbuttoning her blazer. The clothing wasn’t designer, but it wasn’t cheap either. She cared about her clothes and took the garments and put them on hangers carefully so as not to ruin them.
“You fucking heard me,” she told him not in the mood for games. “Take your clothes off and shut your mouth. You want to do this right?” He looked at her coolly one more time realizing she was serious. Finally he began stripping the flannel off his torso and dumped it on her perfectly clean floors. Veronica resisted the urge to pick it up and fold it to be washed later. They weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend anymore, and she sure as fuck wasn’t going to take care of him or his laundry.
Well, she'd take care of him, but not like that anyway. A lot of her resentments towards him were coming out in full force. She recalled the way he’d get annoyed at her work or friends. The way he had to pick where they ate. Hell, even the way she let him dictate the terms of their sexual encounters, too young or too meek to ever really speak up to her wants and desires. It was about time she showed him a thing or two.
Yes, she decided. I'll hook up with you tonight. But I won't be getting fucked. Tonight Jason Dean, you are. While he was busying himself with his clothes she carefully took out the items she needed.
“Damn,” he chuckled, as he peeled the Led Zeppelin shirt over his head. “Figured it’d end up this way but thought I’d have to woo you a bit more first.”
She clenched her teeth. “I told you to shut your mouth,” she said over her shoulder. “And the pants?” She motioned to his torn jeans. God, she had always loved the way his ass looked in those jeans. She could hear the belt jingle as it felt to the ground with the pants and the boxers he had on.
She turned and stood in front of him with her hands on her hips tapping her fore finger against them as he laid on her silk sheets naked as a blue jay. Her beautiful blue silk sheets that matched her blue and white comforter. She loved those sheets. They had been her first big and silly purchase when she got her first adult paycheck from the law firm she’d been working at. He had scoffed at the extravagance— “what was wrong with the old sheets?” He had asked dismissively— but she didn’t care. They were hers. She took the moment to flick her eyes over the lithe naked form. She’d been attracted to him since she was eighteen, but now that he’d grown more into his tall body and long arms he was even sexier. The slight scruff on his face and the addition of the tattoos had only added to it. She hated men and their ability to look hotter the older they got.
“You wanna be on top?” He asked. He was amused when he realized she wasn’t in the bed yet. “I could go for that.”
“Good. I am going to be on top. But not just that.” She stared at him, daring him to balk as she revealed to him the object in her hand. It was a strap dildo with a harness she had been waiting for an opportunity to want to use. A part of her felt a tremor of fear.
What if he wasn’t into it? Well, then he can fuck off, right? Jason Dean was not going to kink shame me tonight. If he doesn’t want to do this then we don’t do this at all.
“If we do this, then I’m in charge. Got it?” He stared at her wide-eyed. Veronica was pleased. She was not the meek docile girlfriend who followed his lead in the sack that he remembered. She wasn't the one he’d ridden off like a coward on his bike from. Carefully and deliberately she made him watch as she stepped into it and buckled it on, watching him watch her in intense fascination. When it was done she finally spoke again. “Now, roll onto your stomach,” she ordered, empowered by the strap on dangling between her legs.
In the minute it took him to process what she had on and what she was suggesting Veronica took in every ounce of joy the shock and awe on his face brought her. Yes, I can shock you, she wanted to drawl to him.
But when his face changed from shock into the smile of pure curiosity and pleasure she found herself pleased. Pleased and turned on herself. Damn, he’s into it. Good.
“So, um, you done this before?” He asked carefully as the unspoken question of whether or not she’d been with anyone since he left lingered over them. Veronica was in no mood to hash out her sexual history for the past year— two hookups, one a drunken one night stand, but who was counting?— and scoffed. “I thought I told you I was in charge. And I told you to roll over.” He swallowed and did just that. “Put your hands on the bed frame. The bars. Clutch them separately.” She felt the waves of power and pleasure streak through her as he followed her directions. She went to her drawer and found two thin old belts she hardly wore hoping that they would do as restraints. “I’m going to restrain your wrists, okay?” She asked.
“Yeah, okay.” She went to the bed frame and carefully secured one, then the other.
“That’s okay?” She asked. She wanted him restrained, not in pain. He tested them out.
“Yeah, that’s good. Um, Can you, um, take your bra off?” He asked quietly. “I want to- I want to feel them bare and pressed against my back when you- If that’s-” She felt a tremor of a memory. He had always teased that he loved her breasts and he’d once proclaimed them the most perfect pair in the world when they were in bed. It had been charming in only the way Jason Dean could make not weird.
“Yes. I will,” she agreed. Carefully she reached behind and undid her bra, letting him watch over his shoulder as she slipped it off her and tossed it in her laundry basket. She wanted him to touch them, but she could wait. This was too important.
Now that he was positioned she got on her bed and slowly skimmed her hand down his bare back and down his buttocks reveling in him shivering with anticipation. She took the moment to notice the changes in his body since last she'd seen him. “This one’s new,” she said, as she gently traced her finger over a small tattoo of a bird on his shoulder blade. He had several on his arms from his earlier youth but this one was not like the random patterns he usually got.
“Yeah, um, I got a few more this year.” She had noticed something on his chest over his heart earlier but she would have to inspect it later. She leaned over and kissed the dove on his shoulder blade in a momentary fit of tenderness. He shivered beneath her warm lips to her surprise, until she realized that when she did that the toy had grazed him.
“Don’t worry,” she told him. “I have lube and I’ll be gentle.” She ran her fingers up and down his bare buttocks in preparation before taking the tube. She lathered both him and the toy as generously as she could before she put it down. She hoped that would be good. She may have been presenting confidence, but in truth she hadn’t done this before and she had only read and fantasized about it. Luckily the magazine had diagrams but… still. In practice versus in fantasy made a divide. She licked her lips and resolved herself. They both needed this and she could stop if it really hurt him too much.
With that resolve, she sat up on her knees, gripped one of his hips with one hand and the toy with the other before angling it towards him and into-
“Fuck,” he groaned hoarsely and with a sharp intake of air. She had pushed the toy into him slowly, letting him get used to the feeling but it was still new to him. Listening to the guttural noises he was making though as she continued made her heart hum. She always hoped this would be good, and in truth it was even better. She couldn’t believe how good it felt to have him beneath her, completely at her mercy. She gently slid it in and out a few times. “Shit," he breathed. "It burns.”
“Do you want me to stop?” She asked. She was loving it, and as much as she wanted to own him she wasn’t going to cross the line from domination into-
“Fuck no,” he eked out, through a strained whimper. “It hurts in the best way possible. Keep going.”
“Good,” she told him, petting his hair back gently as she eased into him inch by inch. Something overcame her, some lingering sense of their former relationship, and she leaned down to temper the pain he must have felt with the gentle softness of her lips on his neck and as he had requested her soft breasts pressed against his back. He liked that and sighed in response.
“God Veronica, I-” She shushed him.
“Enough talking,” she told him sternly know, reasserting her dominance as she eased the toy in and out and listened to his sounds of pain mixed with pleasure. “it’s time to listen to me.” Her one hand still gripped his hip as she continued to move in and out of him, the other gently wrapped around him and began to stroke up and down his chest, teasingly dipping below his waist to find out just how hard she was making him. She smiled, pleased with her machinations. “You were a shitty boyfriend,” she whispered in his ear, as she leaned in over him, taking his earlobe between her teeth.
“I was,” he admitted quietly.
“I wanted to marry you,” she added.
“Fuck, Veronica. I know. I know.” The noises were now continuous as she continued her assault on him. She pressed her warm hand gently against his stomach, splaying her fingers against it and felt it quiver under her touch. She began to stroke the soft hair on his flat stomach in order to soothe the tremor. Deliberately, she moved it lower to run her hand down his dick before removing it just as quickly causing him noises now in sweet frustration. He wasn't going to get off though until he answered a question. An important one.
“Why did you leave?”
"What? God, Veronica, it-"
"Tell me. You want to get off than tell me."
“Shit Veronica. God. I mean- Fuck." He threw his head back desperate for completion. "Okay. Fine. I was scared. I was fucking scared… I … I didn’t think I was good enough for you.” Veronica blinked. "So I left." That was not the answer she had been expecting. She didn’t know how to respond to that, to be honest. Realizing though they were in the middle of something completely different she tabled it and simply whispered soothing noises into his ear in response, bringing it back to a carnal level.
“Okay. Okay. JD? Listen to me. From the pain will come pleasure, okay?” He audibly swallowed.
“Okay,” he agreed.
“And after you come, you’ll go down on me,” she told him. It had always disappointed her how he had doled that out over the course of their relationship like it was a treat she only got on a special occasion.
“Yes, fuck yes I will.”
Veronica smiled to herself. She enjoyed the sounds of pleasure coupled with pain Jason Dean was omitting from the back of his throat as she finally took his dick in her hand and began to tug on it at the same time she was still slipping the toy in and out of him from behind. There was a power, one she had never felt before, in dominating this man so hard. He was at her mercy now, not the other way around. “You like this, don’t you?” She whispered into his ear, playing with his earlobe between her teeth, and squeezing his dick, ready to finish him.
“Yes,” he told her, hoarsely. She kept edging him closer and closer as she upped the rhythm-- harder and faster-- against him some more.
“No one else but me will ever do this to you, right?”
“I wouldn’t trust anyone but you to do this to me,” he told her fiercely. Her heart rate sped up, more than overwhelmed at such an admission on her deadbeat ex’s part. “Only you Veronica. Only you.”
On that note she jerked one last time into him for good measure as she felt him moan in completion. She slid the toy out of him then reached over to undo his restraints. He was panting as he flipped over and rested on his back wincing as his backside hit the mattress.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered. “Holy shit.” Finally done with him and overwhelmed with her own desire she began unstrapping the toy from her and put it to the side, making a mental note to make sure she cleaned it in the morning.
Out of breath— and frankly a little sore herself— she ran her hand through her hair, getting the little wisps out of her eyes. She only wanted one last thing before they both collapsed in exhaustion. She thought she'd have to remind him, but he beckoned her over on his own.
“Come here,” he told her. “I promised you.”
“You did,” she told him as she climbed back into bed. “But you can lie like that. I’ll come to you.” She crawled over his body so she hovered over him, her hair falling down in front of her before finally pressing her lips against his. It only then occurred to her that they had just done a lot and they hadn’t even kissed properly yet. His lips were warm and familiar. It surprised her that after the fierceness of want they had just had how gentle and kind this kiss now was. Besides, like always, kissing him felt like she was coming home. She couldn't wait any longer for her own needs though and she sat up and began to inch herself up onto his face. Understanding what she wanted he ran his hand up her warm thighs and pulled her close.
“Come here,” he told her. "I'll take care of you." She lowered herself onto his mouth and whimpered as he began to lick her and tease her, the warm desire that had pooled in the pit of her stomach finally unfurling out and around her.
“Wait, am I suffocating you?” She asked, worried. She hoped not, it felt good and she wanted to be even closer to him.
“What a way to go,” he muttered. “It’s fine. Let me take care of you." He returned to work. She bit her lip and leaned into the rhythm he was setting with his tongue.
She looked down at him tenderly as his mouth and tongue played with her, her fingers in his hair and her desire pooling deep within her. His fingers dug into her thighs and ran upwards until they finally closed around the softness of her breasts. He was being generous and gentle even though moments before she had been so rough on him and she closed her eyes and gave into the feeling completely. It didn’t take much longer for her to feel the orgasm overpower her, taking her completely, clutching her silk bedsheets between her fingers as she allowed it to overwhelm her. When she had taken all she could from him she slid down his body and rolled onto the bed, exhausted and spent.
They both lay together, naked on the bed exhausted as they took in what they had just done together silent. Or simply that they had done it together. They were silent, save for their exhausted breathing,
“Why did you leave?”
“I was scared… I didn’t think I was good enough for you. So I left."
Veronica swallowed, remembering the words that had come from his mouth in the heat of the moment when she had demanded them. She wasn’t quite sure if it was time to begin to unpack that, so she pushed it to the side for now. “Did I hurt you?” She asked instead, breaking their silence.
“Yes,” he admitted.
“Oh, sorry.”
“Don’t be. That was the best sex we’ve ever had. I had no idea you had that in you.”
“Neither did I.” This night had been filled with surprises from the moment she got home and saw him in her bed to the moment she'd laid in the aftermath of their sexual encounter.
“But then again I always knew you had power,” he whispered, turning his head to her. They didn't speak again. She got up and rested on her elbow, looking down at his chest wanting to make conversation about something else. She finally had a chance to inspect the new tattoos over his heart.
“The one on your back… and these. These are new too,” she whispered to him, as she traced the pattern on his chest. She stared curiously at the design. They were flowers wrapped in vines right over his heart. One was a simple pink carnation, and the other a blue rose. “They’re well done,” she complimented, still running her finger over them. “Do they mean something?” She asked. “Carnations usually mean mothers," she realized. "So, is that meant to be for…?” She didn’t complete the sentence. His mother was a hard topic for him to talk about and no matter the circumstance she knew to draw the line and never to push him on it. He shrugged.
“Yes. Her initials are in the vines too," he explained. It took her a moment to see them interwoven into the art. He really had made sure to get a talented artist for it. "I thought it was nice to remember her, close to my heart.” Veronica looked up at him with wide soulful eyes. He’d always kept that pain under lock and key, only letting her in occasionally when he was desperate. She didn’t know if there was anyone else he’d ever been with that he did. Instead she looked down at the second half of the design. The blue rose.
“But the blue rose? What does that-?” He grabbed her and pulled her into a kiss before he could explain himself. They idly stayed like that until finally resting their bodies against each other, exhaustion tugging at them both.
“JD?” She asked, finally, lying there in the darkness, their limbs tangled around each other and her soft sheets. She had no idea what time it was, but it was probably late. He didn’t respond. For a moment she had thought he’d fallen asleep— he usually did after sex— but she called to him again. “JD, are you-”
“Sorry,” he whispered. “I’m here. Do you , uh, want me to get dressed and go?” He asked regretfully, betraying his desire to not do that at all. "I can leave if that's what-"
“No. I want to talk in the morning. But, um, for right now…” She couldn’t help herself, she really couldn’t. “Can you hold me? While we sleep? Please,” she asked, the quivering in her voice betraying how much she had missed him in the year he'd been gone. A part of her felt strange asking these things. Their post-breakup hookup was already hinging a little on the edge of romance, but that would push it farther down. It was one thing to have sex together, it was another thing to sleep together.
If he thought the same thing he didn’t say it though and wordlessly he turned and pulled her against him, wrapping his arm tightly around her. She closed her eyes and felt the familiar rush of security and familiarity she always felt wrapped in his arms at night. It hardly even felt like that lonely year without him had never occurred.
“Can I make you an omelet in the morning?” He asked, quietly.
“I don’t think I have any eggs,” she told him honestly. “Also, since when can you make an omelets?” She asked, incredulous.
“I can make an omelet,” he retorted.
“Yeah. Sure,” she chuckled, amused by the very idea of him making her breakfast. A thing he had never done before. She felt bad for a moment, bad at laughing though. He had actually seemed earnest about it at first. “You know what? Why don’t we go to the diner on third instead, you can buy me breakfast.”
“Perfect,” he told her, dropping a kiss on her shoulder. She paused.
“So, JD. Are you gonna tell me why you really came here tonight? I know you needed a fuck but, well, I couldn’t have been you’re only option. It's been a whole year and-”
“My dad died,” he whispered quietly into her shoulder. Her heart sank. Oh. He and his dad’s relationship could charitably have been described as distant, but even still, he had been the only parent— hell, family— JD had left. Veronica's heart sank. She'd been so focused on her pain she hadn't even thought something like that had happened to him.
“Fuck. I’m sorry,” she told him honestly. “Really I am. I mean, I know you two weren’t close but-”
“Shh,” he whispered, voice tired. “Can I just sleep and hold you for right now? Take you out for breakfast in the morning like old times? I just want to do those things with you.” Her complicated feelings on the matter flew away. She actually was feeling that way too.
“Yeah. Of course. And JD?”
“Yeah?”
“Please, just don’t go in the middle of the night,” she asked, feeling the edges of sleep start to take her. “Don’t leave me like-”
“I won’t,” he promised. “Go to sleep.” He kissed her shoulder one last time before sleep began to claim him. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
As she felt the pull to sleep overwhelm her too a strange thought occurred to her: her favorite color was blue... and she loved roses. But that couldn't...
Before she could think about it anymore she fell into a deep sleep.
Baby, you could never look me in the eye
Yeah, you buckle with the weight of the words
Stop draggin' my, stop draggin' my
Stop draggin' my heart around
-Stevie Nicks and Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers (Stop Draggin' My Heart Around)