Who: Jayne and Tommy What: New Years Eve in When: Monday - 12.31.12 Where: Their home Warnings: NSFW, Incest.
Jayne wasn't sure where Tommy was when she got home from work. She'd lucked out with the earlier shift at Asylum thanks to picking up so many shifts over the break from school. She'd made sure to thank Gabe repeatedly and fully intended to work out a little, take a shower and sleep through to the new year.
She changed out of her work uniform and tossed it into the washer with some other laundry and put on her work out gear forgoing that stupid visor that she still couldn't believe she'd bought with it. The damn salesgirl had been working for that commission apparently. She rarely ever worked out outside so it seemed truly silly to have the damn thing in the first place.
When her grandmother was still living she'd rigged a barr in the living room along one bare wall. It was something most of the girls at school didn't have, their own personal barr, just like at the studio. It made her feel special sometimes. She was still doing her warm up stretches, limbering up a little when Tommy walked in the door. Leg up almost parallel with her torso, she smiled at him. "Hey," she said. "Figured I wouldn't see you til morning."
Tommy had worked the early shift too, not that he’d known his sister had. He’d expected her to be out when he came home, had planned on just grabbing a shower and a change of clothes before heading out. He’d managed to knock one of the containers of syrup off the shelf in the storeroom, and had ended up covered in the stuff. So now he was still faintly sticky, and smelled like peppermint. Not exactly how he planned on spending New Year. He’d stripped off his shirt as soon as he’d gotten in the door, tossing it vaguely towards the washer. Jumping at the sound of his sister’s voice, he whirled around. “Oh, hey,” he said, waving a hand. “Nah, spilt a quart of peppermint schnapps syrup over my head, so I figured I’d grab a shower before tonight.” He rubbed a hand through his hair, grimacing at the sticky texture.
“You wanna come out with me?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow. “Loosen up a little for once, maybe take that stick outta your ass?” Which, he couldn’t help but notice, looked exceptionally nice in yoga pants. Wrong, wrong, bad thought. Tommy mentally slapped himself. Spending nine years apart meant he’d missed a lot of growing up. In every way. And yeah, when Jayne had picked him up in Boston, he’d had a moment of ‘hot girl, need to tap that’ before she’d introduced herself, before he’d realised who she was. It was taking a while to shake that urge. He’d figured he was going to hell already, for all the shit he’d pulled. Creepy incesty thoughts on top of that...yeah, special hell. Special, special hell.
It had been slightly difficult to live with Tommy, not because of all the things that should have made it difficult but because of the confusing thoughts that had plagued Jayne since the beginning of their stay together. And the fact that every time she saw him he was in some state of undress or completely naked. Often times fucking someone or jerking off. The thoughts she knew were wrong and did her best to shake them. Shirtless Tommy wasn't helping her do so, however. She couldn't deny that he was attractive. The fact that they'd spent so much time apart meant they hadn't really grown up in the way that brothers and sisters normally did. She shook her thoughts away and focused on his words.
"Nah," she said. "Perfectly fine with the stick up my ass," she said, rolling her eyes and going back to her stretches. "You go out. Try not to get arrested." If he did, she'd bail him out of course, but she wasn't going to admit that and pretty much give him permission. Jayne was a lot smarter than that.
“C’mon,” Tommy whined, pouting at her. “You need to relax, Jaynie. Have a few beers, smoke a j, be young for once in your life.” He was pretty sure she’d been born middle-aged. And boring. Except for when she was dancing, even Tommy had to admit she was something special then. Sighing, he shook his head. “I’m gonna go have a shower.” Kicking off his shoes, he headed for the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Stripping off, he stepped under the hot water, groaning as he watched the sticky, gloopy syrup out of his hair. And now even the shower smelled minty. Great.
Rolling his head from side to side on his neck, he groaned as he worked the kinks out. Twenty seven years old and he was working a minimum wage job. There were times he thought about going for something more, something better. But then he remembered that’d require actual effort and decided his life wasn’t so bad the way it was. Hell of a lot better, since he’d moved in with Jayne. Even if she did keep practicing her dancing in the living room, in tight, stretchy yoga pants that clung to every curve. And tops that showed off her back, the little freckles over her shoulders...and fuck, he was getting hard. Fuck fuck fuck.
“Stupid, fucked-up brain,” Tommy cursed, leaning his head against his forearm, braced against the shower wall as he stared at his messed-up, traitorous dick. Which apparently hadn’t gotten the memo that he was related to Jayne, and therefore shouldn’t be attracted to her. Shaking his head, he dismissed all thoughts of Jayne, trying to picture one of his exes instead. Chanelle, maybe. All tan curves, long dark hair, legs that went on forever....yeah, that worked.
She rolled her eyes at him. She was just fine not being drunk and high all the time. Going to school and trying to do something to make sure they stayed afloat. She didn't have the time or energy to be young and fun like he did. She had a double major to try and maintain a decent grade point average with, work and whatever ballets she could squeeze in. Not to mention her daily exercise routines. By the time she got done with all of that, she barely had time to sleep. Fun would have to wait.
She let him walk out and head for the shower. At least she heard the click of the lock this time. Usually he just left the damn thing unlocked and she'd forget he was in there or be unaware to begin with and she'd see him naked all over again. She sighed and forced every single thought of Tommy away, paying more attention to the barr and to the matter at hand. Taking a moment, she moved to the radio to turn on a little music. Maybe that would help drown out her thoughts. Doubtful, but she was willing to try anything.
Feeling a lot more relaxed, Tommy stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist and padding back out into the living room. The towel was mostly a concession to Jayne’s privacy OCD thing; if he had his own place, he’d be walking around naked. Well, in summer at least. In winter, it was a little different. “So, you coming?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow at her. He grabbed a beer from the kitchen, cracking it open and draining a third of it in one gulp. His necklaces clinked softly as he moved, hair starting to curl at the nape of his neck, still dripping wet from the shower.
She turned a little to look at him which was a mistake entirely. Damp from a shower wearing nothing but a towel. Great. "No," she said, turning her attention elsewhere, facing away from him so she wouldn't have to focus on his lack of clothes. "You go, Tommy. Have fun. Call me if you need me." It was usually the way that things worked at night, mostly on the weekends. If he needed her, he'd call her up wasted at three in the morning and beg her to come pick him up. And she would, like always. "I'm just gonna shower and go to sleep," she told him, raising her leg up in a final stretch.
“Come on, it’s New Year!” Tommy lifted his arms, looking at her. “You can’t just sleep through it.” He pouted at her again. “At least stay up and watch the ball drop. I’ll keep you company. We can crack open a few beers, I can get stoned, you can steal the contact high....” he grinned, raising his eyebrows hopefully. “What d’you say?” Truth be told, he’d rather spend the night on the couch with Jayne than out getting drunk. It was cheaper, for a start.
She reluctantly turned around to look at him, letting her leg fall slowly to the floor. Of course he was pouting. The brat. "Fine," she told him. "I'm going to shower first. And one beer will be just fine, thanks." Not because she couldn't have handled a few more but because she didn't trust herself not to say or do something stupid or improper. "Ten minutes," she told him, leaving him in the living room and heading upstairs to her bedroom and the bathroom that was attached to it.
She didn't lie, not intentionally. She got her shower like she said she would, but it didn't take that long to wash up, rinse and dry off. So once back in her bedroom, she'd lain out clothes to put on and sat on her bed. Then she'd grabbed her lotion to rub on her legs and feet and by the time she got to her thighs, she was thinking too much. Too much about things she shouldn't be. In the next minute or so, she'd lain back on the bed and let her fingers slide up her thighs. She wasn't, for once, worried about meeting the deadline she'd set for herself. Besides, it wasn't like Tommy was in that big of a hurry to watch television with her.
Tommy rolled his eyes, going to his room and pulling some clothes on. More for Jayne’s sake than his; he’d happily sit around the house in a towel. But she’d bitch and whine, and if he was naked, she was far less likely to want to sit and get drunk with him. So, one pair of jeans, a grandad shirt and a button-down later, he was back in the living room. Fresh beer in hand, he settled on the couch. And waited. Yeah, Jayne was never late. And it wasn’t like she had to go far. Sighing, he got to his feet. She was probably hiding in her room and hoping he’d forget about her. Grabbing another beer from the fridge, he headed upstairs, pushing open her bedroom door.
“Oh, shit, sorry,” he babbled, backing out the door, closing his eyes. Oh like he needed that mental image. Jesus. He was on the goddamn express to hell, at this rate. “Uh, I just, sorry, I uh, I’ll be downstairs,” he said hurriedly, practically running down the stairs. Christ.
Jayne was mortified. Typical really. When she wanted Tommy to do one thing, he did the complete opposite. She was so startled she couldn't really do much covering up. She watched him leave, hand still between her thighs, flushing so desperately she thought she might faint from the blood rushing through her body to her head. Now she really didn't want to go downstairs. Once he was out of view, she got up and got dressed, putting on the most covering she could in the form of a long sleeved shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms. And she waited. She did everything she could to take a while so that maybe somehow he'd forget what he'd seen.
When she finally walked down the stairs, she was still blushing desperately. She avoided eye contact and moved past him to go straight to the kitchen. If there was any time that she needed a drink, it was now.
Tommy practically downed the beer he’d gotten out for himself, and was about halfway through hers by the time Jayne finally showed her face downstairs. He rolled a joint, glad of the tan that hid any remaining flush in his cheeks. Because yeah, the last thing they needed right now was them both being hideously embarrassed. Bad enough that she could barely look at him. His own sister. And all he’d been able to think, walking in on her, was how hot she looked. He shuddered, stomach churning a little. God, he was a fucking pervert. Shaking his head, he slid the joint between his lips, lighting it and leaning back against the sofa cushions. He balanced an empty plate on his stomach to use as an ashtray, sighing as he exhaled, slowly.
It took a few minutes for her to come back to the living room. In one hand she had a glass, the other had a carton of orange juice and tucked beneath her arm was a bottle of vodka. Yeah, drinking sounded really fucking good to her. She wasn't sure if she should apologize or yell or hide her face or just ignore anything that had happened in the last few minutes. In the end, she sat on the arm of the sofa poured a hefty amount of liquor into her cup and sat the bottle on the coffee table. Pouring a little orange juice in with the vodka, she put the carton on the table as well and glanced over at him. "Sorry," she told him, then took a drink and looked at the television.
“No idea what you’re apologising for,” Tommy answered breezily, staring at the tv just as hard. He took another toke on the joint, then held it out to her. “I’ve been sitting here,” he continued, holding his breath, “watching tv ever since you went for a shower.” He exhaled slowly, a thin stream of smoke escaping his lips. He slouched down a little on the couch, tipping his head back as he took another generous gulp of his beer. Yeah, he was gonna have to switch to harder liquor to burn those images out his head, too.
Good. At least he wasn't making her talk about it. She could just avoid it and pretend it never happened. That was much better than trying to explain why she suddenly felt the urge to touch herself for what probably looked to him like no reason at all. She'd much rather him assume she was just in need of some self help because of a dry spell and not because she had a nearly naked male running around the house. She didn't say anything back to him, content to avoid the topic. "Want some?" she asked him, holding her glass in his direction.
“Sure,” Tommy nodded. “I’ll get another glass.” He grinned at her. “Unless you wanna share all night.” Which he doubted, somehow. He got up, draining the last of his beer, taking the empty through to the kitchen for once. He reappeared with a glass half-full of icecubes, pouring in a very generous measure of vodka, topping it up with a little orange juice. He took the joint from her, arching an eyebrow. “Did you even try it?” He asked her, smirking just a little as he raised it to his lips, took another deep drag on it.
"What?" she asked, blinking a little when he returned, slipping off the arm of the sofa so she could sit properly. "Try what?" She hadn't been focusing on the television, even if she'd been staring at the damn thing and now she felt like she'd missed something. Until she forced herself to look at his face and realized he probably meant the joint. "That? Oh. No."
Tommy shook his head. Yeah, she was more spaced-out that usual. Probably embarrassed because he’d walked in on her. “Maybe we should come up with like, a system,” he suggested, holding the joint out to her again, eyebrows raised questioningly. “If you need some, y’know, alone time...” he waggled his eyebrows, smirking just a little. “Put like, a sock on the doorhandle, or something. That way I don’t interrupt.” He didn’t need a system - he didn’t give a shit if anyone walked in on him. Even Jaynie. God only knew she’d seen him jerk off enough times before. It wasn’t like anything would be a surprise to her at this point.
Jayne wanted to melt into the floor when he brought it up. She'd been much more content with him pretending that it hadn't happened. She reached over and took the joint from him, shaking her head and taking too long of a hit, handing it back to him as she started to cough which only seemed to make her cough more. "D-don't need alone time," she muttered. "I just... I shoulda done it in the shower," she muttered, shaking her head and coughing again. "God I can't believe I'm talking about this with you. Give me that back," she told him, taking the joint again and putting it between her lips for another hit. She needed to be more high for this conversation. Not that it would take much.
Bemused, Tommy handed it back to her. “Hey, it’s no biggie,” he said, waving a hand. After a couple of beers, some vodka, and working his way through his second joint, Tommy was feeling a little more laid-back about the whole thing. Just as long as he didn’t think about her too much, didn’t try and picture exactly what he’d walked in on. “Just figured you might not want it to happen again. So - sock on the doorknob.” Even he should be able to remember that.
"I really shouldn't be so self conscious," Jayne muttered. "I should be more like you and have no shame at all." She'd walked in on her brother so many times since he'd moved in that she couldn't even count them. He walks in on her once and she practically dies of embarrassment. "I think I'm stoned," she said, blinking a little as she looked at the joint and handed it back to him. "Why am I smoking again? You're a bad influence. Got me masturbating all over the place and smoking pot like nobody's business."
“You cannot be stoned,” he told her. But then, she didn’t smoke. Ever. “Okay maybe you can be.” Waving his hand dismissively, he took a hit on the joint, leaning his head back against the couch. And then frowning. “How am I a bad influence?” He asked, rolling his head to the side to look at her, not lifting it up at all. “S’not like I made you masturbate. And seriously, Jaynie, you need to relax. A little smoke now and then’s not gonna kill you.” He lifted his head, taking a sip of his drink. It didn’t taste much of orange juice. Maybe he should have added a little less vodka...
"You don't know that," she told him, then laughed a little and thumped her head back against the couch. Then she sighed and realized she'd have to lean forward again to pick up her glass. So she did so, took a long gulp and sat the glass down again. "How would you know why I was masturbating anyway. It could be your fault. And I am relaxed. Smoking, drinking, throwing caution to the wind." She put on a wide grin and turned her head a little to face him. "I still say you're a bad influence."
He laughed, looking at her. “C’mon, it’s not my fault you’re masturbating. S’got nothing to do with me.” He took another took on the joint, handing it across to her again. He liked stoned Jayne; she was far more relaxed. She smiled a lot easier. There had definitely been a shortage of that around the house recently, and he couldn’t help thinking that it was at least partly his fault. That he made his sister more stressed. Maybe tonight was what they both needed, a chance to just chill and relax and not be yelling at one another.
"You were the one walking around nearly naked. My brain couldn't tell my body any different." Which was more than she should have or even wanted to say but in her current state of 'I don't even give a fuck' she couldn't seem to filter her words. "What are we watching?" she asked him, glancing briefly at the television and then back at him.
Tommy looked at her, eyebrows nearly disappearing into his hairline. “Uh, what?” He said, lifting his head off the back of the couch. He smirked, just a little. More to cover up his true reaction than anything else. “Jaynie, did you just admit that I’m hot?” He beamed. Yeah, it was much easier to tease her, to make fun. Because anything else was just bad and wrong and oh god she’d been jerking off because she thought he was hot. Fuck. They were both fucked up. So obviously the best thing to do was just ignore it and hope that it went away.
"You know you're hot," she told him. "I don't have to admit it for you to know it's true." She didn't really care, at least in that moment, if he knew she thought it or not. She rolled her head in his direction again and smiled a little. "Whatever. Tease all you want," she shrugged. "Too out of it to care."
“Good,” Tommy replied, taking a drink, topping up his glass with more vodka. Yep. Definitely needed to be shitfaced tonight. And he was well on his way. He took the remains of the joint back from her, taking one last toke before stubbing the roach out on the plate he’d been using as an ashtray. “You want another?” He asked, looking across at her instead of at the tv.
Jayne watched him as he took that last hit and stubbed the joint out on the pretend ashtray. "You're ruining my dishes," she teased, flashing him a smile. "Yeah," she replied in response to his question. "I think I could use another." Finishing off the rest of her drink, she reached for the orange juice. She could use another drink as well.
“I’m sure the dish will cope,” Tommy drawled. “It’s just ash. It’s not like I’m breaking it.” And it’d go in the dishwasher, once he was done. After rinsing the ash off, of course. He rolled another joint, sucking his lower lip between his teeth, frowning in concentration. He was a little buzzed now, and rolling was a serious matter. Job done, he lit up, taking a deep drag before handing it across to her, sipping at his drink.
She just sat there watching him as he rolled that joint. She thought she might die with the way that he teased his lip with his teeth, the nipping nearly making her shift in her seat. She swallowed as she watched him light the damn thing up and then he held it out to her and she just kept staring. Then she blinked and realized she was supposed to be taking the damn thing and not ogling Tommy. "Sorry," she said, taking it and pressing it between her lips, easily getting the hang of it at this point. She managed to only cough once before taking another hit.
“There you go,” Tommy said, slouching down a little on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table, his glass held on his stomach. He grinned at his sister. He’d make a stoner out of her yet. Not that he was trying to, but at least she wasn’t going to cough up a lung. “So, you invited to any parties tonight?” He asked, curious. He was still getting to know his sister, and while he was forming certain opinions about her, he was willing to have those opinions challenged. He still wasn’t quite sure if she was a shut-in by choice or not.
"Some," she told him. Jayne wasn't the most popular girl but it was mostly by choice. She spent far too much time worrying or studying and not enough time having fun. She knew this but she couldn't seem to be able to break the habit of being that sort of girl. "I just figured I didn't want to be groped by some asshole or made out with by some guy I don't know after midnight." She shrugged a little, took a last hit from the joint and returned it to him before mimicking his movements and slouching down on the sofa. "If I kiss someone, I want to at least want to," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "I think I've been manhandled more times than I actually wanted to be touched. Parties suck."
Tommy frowned, sitting up. “Woah, wait, back up,” he said, nearly spilling his drink as he shifted to face her. “Manhandled?” He lowered his voice, looking a little worried. “Jaynie, you haven’t...I mean guys haven’t...” And wow, this was weird to be asking his sister about. Hell, it’d be weird to ask anyone about. “You know if anyone kisses you and you don’t want ‘em to, just knee ‘em in the balls,” he suggested finally. “Or tell me and I’ll take care of it.”
"No," she told him quickly, not wanting him to freak out too much. "I mean, kisses, maybe a grope or something but not anything bad," she promised. She was pretty sure that she wouldn't let it get that far. Usually she stopped them with a glare or a shove and stormed off. She was a little surprised at how easily he got fired up about it and she couldn't help but smile a little. "You'd really take care of it for me?" she asked. She wasn't used to someone protecting her like that.
Tommy looked a little offended at how surprised she sounded. “You’re my baby sister,” he told her. “Of course I’d take care of it. They wouldn’t be able to find enough of the bastard to fit on a shovel, if anyone did anything to you.” Yeah. Baby sister. He needed to remember that real clearly. Baby sister, not a smoking hot dancer chick he happened to be living with. Christ. At this point he was tempted to go online, see if there was some way of like, brainwashing himself out of being attracted to Jayne.
She smiled again at his words, at his protectiveness. It sent shivers rolling up her spine and she too was having to remind herself that he was her brother. Remind herself that they shared parents. Remind herself that they were related and that he wasn't a random adopted child or some sort of foster child. Blood bound them. That was something she really needed to drill into her brain but she was finding it more and more difficult not to be attracted to him. "That's sweet," she told him, tucking her hair behind her ear. "I'm just... not used to someone being that protective of me. Guess I'm just used to protecting myself."
Tommy picked up his lighter, relighting the joint and taking a toke on it, setting his glass down on the table. His head was spinning pleasantly now, making it hard to think about moving, about doing anything but sit here with Jayne. “I’m sorry, Jaynie,” he murmured, looking a little ashamed of himself. “I know I’ve not been around for you. Not helped you out.” He’d been a shitty brother. Still was - not that he would tell Jayne exactly how he was being shitty. That was just wrong. And he’d snap out of it, just as soon as he worked out how.
Jayne sighed a little, not wanting Tommy to feel like he'd been a shitty brother. She didn't think so. They had a lot of space between their ages and he had his own life. He had been young and free when their parents died and he shouldn't have had to be strapped down with his little sister when he could do whatever he wanted. It wasn't right and wasn't fair. She moved to lean against his shoulder, head resting against him as she shrugged slightly. "You had your own life," she told him. "You've helped me out plenty."
Tommy looked a little surprised when she leaned her head on his shoulder, but he went with it, shifting to wrap his arm around her shoulders, leaning his cheek against the top of her head. He offered her the joint again, gently squeezing her arm. This was really nice. Definitely something he could get used to. Sighing softly, he focused on the tv, not really caring what they were watching.
She took the joint and a small hit from it, but returned it to her brother before curling in against him a little more. He was warm and solid and it was comforting to feel his body against her own. He wasn't the only one thinking this was something to get used to. It was different, but it was nice. Calming almost. "I'm sorry I'm such a party pooper all the time," she muttered, frowning a little. "You shoulda gone out tonight and had fun."
“I can go out any night and have fun,” Tommy pointed out. It wasn’t being egotistical; he was popular, he had a lot of people he could go drinking with, and he didn’t need the excuse of New Year to do it. “I only get to spend time with you once in a blue moon. When I can convince you to relax.” He grinned, poking her shoulder gently, setting his empty glass down to wrap both arms around her. It was nice, comforting. He was a touchy-feely person by nature, but he hadn’t cuddled with anyone in a while. “You’re not a party pooper,” he assured his sister. “You just take things a little too seriously sometimes.”
She sighed a little but let herself be wrapped up in his arms. "I have to take things seriously all the time," she told him. Mostly to make up for the fact that he hardly ever took anything seriously. Someone had to be the grown-up and she wasn't about to let him be put out on the streets just because she wanted to have fun. She had to be responsible. Besides, she wasn't that serious. Was she?
“Not all the time,” Tommy corrected her. “You’re still young. You need to cut loose every once in a while. Kick back, have a few drinks, smoke a j or two...” He kissed the top of her head, closing his eyes for a moment. “You don’t have to be Mom,” he murmured softly. He felt a little guilty sometimes, that he’d basically abandoned Jayne, that he hadn’t been there for her after their parents died. But he’d been a complete mess. He’d been together enough to know that being around her would do more harm than good. She’d been better off with their grandmother.
She frowned at that last bit. No, she didn't have to be their mother. Hell, she didn't even have to be their grandmother. But at the same time she couldn't just abandon Tommy or leave him to his own devices. She just wasn't that sort. She never had been. "But if I'm not responsible, who's going to take care of you?" she asked him. "I'm not going to let you end up on the streets just because I want to be young and have fun."
“You can be responsible and still have fun,” he argued. And then sighed. They were arguing over stupid shit. They really were behaving like brother and sister. Which, yeah, much better than the way he’d been thinking earlier. “It doesn’t matter,” he murmured, releasing her to lean forward, pouring himself another drink. He should’ve just stayed quiet.
She sighed and pouted a little when he pulled away. "I'm having fun now," she told him. "Getting drunk and stoned with my favorite guy on new year's eve. How can things get more fun than that?" She didn't want him to feel badly especially because of things that she might have said to annoy him. "I'm sorry if I'm ruining the night. Maybe I need to drink more," she laughed.
“There is no maybe,” Tommy said, teasing her a little. “If you’re still coherent enough to wonder, you need to drink more.” He poured her a generous glass too, setting the bottle down and sitting back, glass in hand. He still had one arm around her shoulders, his fingers distractedly playing with her hair. “So I’m your favorite guy, hunh?” He asked, a hint of a smug grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Yeahhhh, he liked to feel special. Feel wanted. Even if it was by his sister.
She could hear the smugness in his voice, even if he didn't have that grin on his face, tiny as it might have been. "Yes," she told him easily. "You might be a pain in the ass but at least I know when it really matters I can count on you." Maybe more now that they'd spent the night talking than she'd realized before. She didn't ask him to stop playing with her hair or even make mention of it because truthfully she didn't want him to stop. It felt nice. It shouldn't but it did.
Brothers and sisters played with each other’s hair, right? It totally wasn’t wierd. And he was in no mood to stop. Her hair was lovely and soft, silky strands winding around his fingers. It made him want to tug gently, pull her head back a little, stretch out that long, pale neck of hers...he shook his head gently, closing his eyes. He really was fucking losing it. Detangling his fingers, he smoothed her hair, letting his hand rest on her shoulder instead. Much safer.
“Always,” he promised her, smiling. “You can always count on me, Jaynie.”
Of course they did. It completely and utterly was normal. Or at least that was what she kept telling herself as she closed her eyes. At least for a moment or two until his fingers slipped out of her hair and came to rest at her shoulder. She frowned a bit. "Why'd you stop?" she breathed out, tilting her head a little to look at him. "Felt nice." Nice didn't cover it, but whatever.
"I'll always be there for you too," she assured him. "But I'm pretty sure you know that already."
“Hunh?” Tommy blushed just a little, hoping it was hidden by his tan skin. He obediently slid his fingers back into her hair, combing gently, carefully. “I was worried I might tug it too hard, or something,” he murmured. Lame excuse, but he wasn’t exactly going to say, ‘touching your hair makes me really fucking horny’. Even Jayne wouldn’t want him around after that. She’d be horrified, disgusted. And rightfully so.
She shook her head a little, not enough to dislodge his hand. "Nuh uh," she breathed, closing her eyes again. "Tug as hard as you want. Doesn't bother me." Which probably sounded awful, or at least it did in her head considering who was touching her hair in the first place but she doubted Tommy would take it that way.
Tommy forced a soft chuckle, looking away from her at the tv, though his hand still moved through her hair. “You should be glad I’m too drunk to think of a smart comeback to that,” he warned her. “So much innuendo I could read into that comment.” He shook his head, doing his best not to think about her. He was kind of relieved that it was getting close to midnight - he could claim he was tired and go to bed, or head out and meet people once Jayne was tired. Anything to get away from her before he did something really spectacularly stupid and wrong.
"Read into it all you want," she told him. "I don't care. Maybe I meant it that way." It was about as close as she'd come to saying what she was thinking but she was too tipsy, too stoned to really have as much of a filter as she might have liked. She opened her eyes and turned to look up at him again. She opened her mouth to say more but she closed it again and rested her head against his shoulder. "I think there's way too much innuendo in my head," she muttered. Too much of a lot of things to be perfectly honest.
“Ooooookay, no more weed for you,” Tommy said, eyes wide as he dropped the remains of his joint onto the plate, placing it on the table. More alcohol probably wasn’t the best idea, either. Not if she was saying shit like this. “I think you’re confusing me with someone else, there.” Yeah. That had to be it. No way Jayne was saying what it sounded like she was saying.
"I'm not confused," she told her brother. "Just losing my mind apparently. High or otherwise, I feel the same." She shook her head a little. "I think it's time for me to go to bed before I say something to make you leave," she muttered, letting out a sigh and shifting enough to get up from the sofa. "Night, Tommy."
Tommy frowned, his thoughts in a whirl. Nah. She couldn’t be saying what it sounded like she was saying. No way. He’d clearly had too much to drink. Either that or he’d picked up some bad weed. Slowly letting his arm fall from around her shoulders, he let her get up. “Uh, okay,” he said. “Goodnight, I guess.” Yeah, this was a good thing. He’d just go to bed too, and they’d wake up, and it would all be a horrible nightmare. All just a figment of his drunk-addled imagination.
Jayne glanced at the clock, noting that it was nearly midnight and took a moment to flip the channel to the usual Times Square ball drop. Might as well at least watch the new year be rung in. They were already counting down as she put the remote down on the coffee table and stood there watching the screen. "Happy New Year," she murmured, flicking her eyes to Tommy. "Better get out of here and find yourself someone to kiss."
“In the next 5 - sorry, 3 - seconds?” Tommy stood, rolling his eyes at his sister as he held out his arms. “C’mere.” He slid his arms around her waist, smiling down at her. He always forgot how teeny she was, until she was standing this close to him. “Happy New Year, Jaynie,” he murmured, bending to kiss her as the ball dropped, cheering and clapping in the background from the TV.
If he'd walked out and grabbed some random girl walking down the street, Jayne doubted the woman would care. But as it was, he wasn't trying to kiss someone else. He'd pulled her in and Jayne's brain was practically floating as she tried not to let her thoughts run wild. She went for his cheek, he went for hers and somewhere in the process, neither pair of their lips ended up where they had intended. Their mouths pressed to one another and though she should have pulled back, she didn't.
Tommy’s hands tightened convulsively against her back, his lips parting against hers as he gasped softly. He reached up with one hand, threading his fingers through her hair, tilting her head back as he deepened the kiss. He was shaking, trembling finely as he nipped at her lower lip, his eyes closed, dark lashes fanned out across his cheeks. This was wrong, in pretty much every way imaginable, but he just couldn’t bring himself to stop. Couldn’t make himself pull away.
It was wrong. In so many ways that if Jayne thought about them she'd probably rush off to some confessional despite the fact that she wasn't even Catholic. But regardless of how wrong it was, she found herself parting her lips, letting him deepen the kiss, sliding her arms up and around his neck, fingers splaying out into his dark hair. She had goosebumps running up her arms, electrical currents rolling down her spine. Perhaps it was because it was wrong that it was so damn electrifyingly wonderful.
He groaned as she wound herself around him, the fingers in his hair sending shivers down his spine, goosebumps trailing over his arms, his neck. He bit hard at her lower lip, sucking it gently into his mouth to relieve the sting, his hand tightening in her hair. He tugged hard, pulling her head back. Breaking the kiss, his lips trailed down over her chin, down her throat, his other arm still wound tight around her waist. “This is so fucked up,” he whispered, frowning even as he kissed her neck, held her close.
She knew that his words were true, knew that fucked up was an understatement even. Still that didn't make her want to stop, want to pull away. "I'm sorry," she whispered, but she wasn't. Even the words betrayed her lack of remorse for the kiss, for touching him now, for him touching her. She tugged at his hair, fingers clenched against the dark strands.
“I’m not,” Tommy breathed, groaning again as she tugged on his hair. “God, Jaynie,” he breathed, kissing her neck, his hands stroking her shoulders, her back. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered, trailing his lips back up her throat, over the soft curve of her jaw. “Tell me to back off,” he added, his lips almost brushing hers, eyes dark and pleading as he looked down into hers. He didn’t have the strength to do it himself, to pull away. Not when he’d been thinking about this ever since she’d come back into his life. Not when he’d seen her touching herself, heard exactly what she sounded like in bed.
It wasn't fair of him to ask her to stop him. Not when she could hardly think, hardly breathe. He was asking the impossible, asking things that she just didn't have the willpower to do. "D-don't think I can," she whispered. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her lips and all she wanted was to lean in to kiss him again, to taste his lips once more. "Don't think I want you to."
Tommy reached up, his fingers stroking her cheek, sliding back gently, splaying across the nape of her neck, the tips of his fingers threading through her hair. He kissed her again, his other hand sliding under her shirt, resting on the small of her back. He tugged her closer, sighing softly at the feel of her body against his, her curves pressed against him. “Jaynie,” he breathed, breaking the kiss only to press his lips to hers again, hungry and passionate.
A ringing sound broke through the haze of lust and intoxication, making Tommy jump as he lifted his head, panting softly. His phone. Still looking at Jayne, he dug it out of his pocket, his lips still tingling from her kisses as he answered. “Yeah?” He said, clearing his throat, sounding far more wrecked than he had any right to. “Oh, hey, man.” He stepped back, away from Jayne, looking away from her. “Happy New Year. No, no, I’m at home.” He ran a hand through his hair, whatever madness had fallen upon them both starting to fall away, reality intruding. God, he was fucked up. And he really, really needed to get out of there. “Yeah, I can meet you. Gimme fifteen minutes, I’ll be there....Yeah.....Cool, see you.” He hung up, cheeks puffed up as he blew out a breath. “I’m uh,” he jerked his thumb awkwardly towards the door. “I’m gonna head out.”
Jayne just stood there, sort of dumbfoundedly staring at him as he spoke to the person on the other end of the line. Her mouth was tingling, her stomach in knots, her thighs clenched so closely together she thought she might snap in half. When he finished his conversation and hung up the phone, she nodded a little. She didn't say goodbye, didn't say anything else. She didn't know what to say. So she turned, sprinted towards and up the stairs and didn't stop until she was in her room, door shut behind her, back pressed against it. Her chest was heaving, he brain swirling. She shouldn't be disappointed, but in a small way she was. This was so fucked up. So completely fucked up. She just hoped that they were both too drunk and stoned now to remember any of this in the morning. If only.