FP (southsidesnake) wrote in madisonvalley, @ 2019-10-02 19:43:00 |
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Entry tags: | !closed, !log, ~2019 october, ~25 points, ~~faith lehane (likeridingabiker), ~~fp jones (southsidesnake) |
Who: FP Jones and Faith Lehane
When: Wednesday Night
Where: FP's apartment
What: Trouble with a capital T, but always the good kind.
Warnings: FP and Faith are, in all honesty, their own warnings. (Language, Innuendos, Adult situations)
Status: Closed/In-Progress [TBC in Comments]
There was something to be said at the fact that FP Jones hadn’t turned the entire town of Madison Valley upside by now. His Serpents jacket was more than just a jacket. It was a comfort. It was a part of him. It didn’t define him, of course, but it showed where he’d come from and where FP had been.
Learning that Faith had borrowed it? FP hadn’t flinched. He hadn’t gone stomping around the apartment or demanded its return. Perhaps if it had been someone else, even a familiar face, it would have been different.
Now, it was a game. FP wanted to see if and when she would return it. He was not about to ask, either. That was all part of the waiting game and the back and forth.
FP was at the stove working on dinner with a beer in hand. “You staying for this gourmet meal?”
***
It was all Jug’s fault for telling her that it only meant something in high school to take the jacket and he was right that it had great pockets for when she wanted to cart around a flask or anything else she needed. She loved her own jacket but it was built to be skin tight for fighting and not getting in her way so when she’d gone out and needed more storage space she’d snagged FP’s jacket on the way.
She figured it didn’t mean any more than when you stole a guy’s shirt after sleeping with him. And the way it smelled like FP was just a bonus.
“That’s gourmet? Hell now I feel bad for considering myself a bad cook.” She was rooting in the fridge for a beer. He and Jug were still way better cooks than she was.
***
“Hamburger Helper takes a steady hand, you know. Too much liquid and it’s a mess. Not enough and it’s cement.” FP wasn’t terrible at cooking, but he was far from Michelin Star. He’d gladly go toe-to-toe with Gordon Ramsey, though. At least in the verbal department even if it landed him in some trouble and Ramsey with a black eye.
Glancing over her way, a half-grin on his face, FP chuckled.
“Hang out any longer in front of that fridge and you’ll need a jacket.” There as a clear opening for comment and retaliation on either side hanging at the end of his statement. FP, instead, took another long drink of his beer.
***
“And that’s why you’re cooking it and not me.” Her idea of making food was whatever you stuck in a microwave or ordered to come to you from a restaurant. Or snacks. Snacks were good.
Faith took a beer and closed the door with a roll of her eyes. “Well at least you didn’t tell me that I was air conditioning the neighborhood.” She was unfortunately clueless on the matter of the jacket thanks to his son so she just dropped into a chair with her beer to watch him cook. It was always worth it to watch him move and do things.
***
“Might have you make the next meal.” It was an empty threat easily seen when FP followed through with a laugh. Cooking wasn’t for everyone. It wasn’t for him, but you had to adjust when life happened.
Letting the food simmer for the time being, FP leaned against the counter and grinned over at her. “Thought about it. Then I remembered you got a decent jacket to keep you warm if it got too cold.” He finished his beer this time and tossed it into the bin set aside for recycling.
It was mandatory or something like that.
“Or did I see that wrong?”
***
“I have a few jackets.” She made a face at him as she took a drink of the beer because she definitely had the feeling he was trying to say something specific and it was going right the fuck over her head. Faith wasn’t fond of that feeling so after her drink she put the bottle down and leaned forward on her elbows on the table.
“So, whatever it is you’re trying to say, can you just say it? Because you’re being weird.”
***
Smooth FP Jones was not. He had other charming features that made up for that shortcoming, though.
“Alright, alright.” His hands up in the air, FP took a seat at the table across from Faith and grinned. “Heard from a little birdie that my jacket found a new home for the time being. Hoping that she’s being treated well. Doesn’t smell like roses or something,” he teased as he reached forward to casually brush some hair from her face.
“Damn better not be covered in glitter, either.” It was possible he was treading thin ice even if he was playing with a certain type of fire.
***
“Do I ever smell like roses?” Faith scoffed at him for even having that come out of his mouth in regards to her. But then he brought up glitter and she pushed his hand away from her hair with a quiet growl.
“It’s still your jacket. It smells like you and fuck you for putting the idea of me even considering putting glitter on anything.” She was starting to get a weird feeling along with the irritation that maybe there was something more going on with this than she knew. It was just that he was being weird, and playful (if in a possibly destructive way) and it all had to do with her having his jacket.
***
Getting Faith riled could be dangerous. It also had the potential to be fun in an equally dangerous way. Playing with fire and other idioms. Which was why he didn't back away or back down. FP wasn't the shy or timid sort after all.
Learning further across the table, FP cupped her face before kissing her. Hard and frantic as he was with many things. Pulling away long enough to take a breath and grin. "I don't know. Might be fun to play with some glitter."
Parting ways and stepping away from the table for the moment, FP went back to the stove. "Bet it looks good on you, though. The jacket. I like you in the Serpent jacket."