underachievement | IC INBOX + OPEN POST / memes, psl, etc.

Talk about a rookie mistake, Jones! She knows what to avoid saying around dogs as well as she knows how to apologize to one. Jess sets her glass aside and cajoles Rocky with an inundation of rubs around the head. That, too, is a mistake, as he clatters to the ground and starts to wiggle around on his back. She thinks he wants her to rub his belly, but his joyfully flailing legs prevent her from getting a hand in. Then he rolls onto his front, hops to his feet and bolts for the water to run off the energy.

She keeps an eye on him to ensure he doesn't go any farther than before. As soon as she picks her glass up, there's a paper plate in her other hand. Jess smirks a little. Mass-produced and wasteful, they'd never see one at a town hall or harvest gathering. Crossing kebabs, she casually thanks him for dinner, so that it sounds more like she's thanking him for handing her dinner.

Jess takes up the couch, back to the arm and legs lain across both large cushions. Her glass is safely tucked between her thigh and the couch back, her plate held over her chest to protect her shirt. She digs her teeth in for a big bite that takes a lot of chewing. Her contentedness in doing so ought to ease any possible concern that she might not like his cooking. First for everything, etc. It's instantly filling, so her next bite is more modest.

Frank snorts and rolls his eyes as he leans back on his chair, legs up on the arm of the sofa with his plate resting on one thigh and his beer held over the other. He's not sure he's ever felt so relaxed, even long before Kandahar; not that he ever likes to compare the two opposing lifetimes he's led. But sitting here with her, eating meat off a stick and watching a dumbass rescue dog play his heart out isn't so bad.

The thanks is registered and filed away without comment, knowing she'd prefer it that way. He already said thank you in his way for her help with the task so it seems natural to just sit back and enjoy it. He's content enough to let the Sun run itself down while they eat in comfortable silence. After his meal is done he nurses the rest of his beer, trying not to let it make him sleepy when he promised her a walk but his eyes begin to droop despite himself.

Every time she teeters on the edge of relaxation, she compulsively reminds herself to stay alert (and don't show it). A quick and silent process, it doesn't register to her that she's doing it, and that's like relaxing.

Jess surprises herself when she's finished her meal and craving strikes her for seconds. Frank looks ready to take a nap. He can close his eyes for a few minutes while she chews half a second stick clean. Obviously, she hasn't had hearty food in a good while. No need to chitchat about it. Once she's full, she drains her whiskey glass and heads for him.

"Don't get up," she tells him, plucking the paper plate from his lap. If he falls asleep in the five minutes it takes her to toss the garbage and stow the leftovers, she'll be more impressed than annoyed. Doubtless that while they're here, they'll both get to know the lake, with and without each other. But always with Rocky, if he has a say.

He's finished his beer by the time she comes over to collect his plate, so he hands her that too with a mouthed 'thanks,' thinking of Maria when he really wants to do anything but that right now. If not for that reminder, he might have passed out before Jess could make it back outside, but as it is he sits up a little bit and whistles for Rocky, losing sight of him in the dim lighting. He races back to the deck from not-too-far, bounding up and into Frank's lap near violently. It knocks the wind out of his chest, but he just releases a tiny cough and pets the dog like he didn't just try to murder him.

"You're a special kinda stupid, ain't ya?"

She thought she was ambivalent about having his company but then she hears his whistle from inside and is suddenly pleased. It's only the first day. She's just a little giddy from isolation. And food.

Her grin breaks free as she steps back out. The dog is a pile of limbs in Frank's lap, the mud from Rocky's feet smeared onto his jeans. The next time she feels bad about walking all over him, she'll have to bring up that mental snapshot. Either as a reminder that there's always more to get away with, or that he thrives on being used when it's useful. Jess tamps down her smile on her way to the whiskey bottle.

"Who's looking after the other fleabags?" she asks as she fills the glass halfway.

Frank looks up at her, eyes crinkling with mirth though there's still some sleepiness lingering in his features. He's considering reaching out for her just as she turns to the bottle and it feels like a strange metaphor he doesn't care to parse at the moment.

"Kam's checkin' in on the bulk of 'em. Her and Lockjaw will keep those freaks in line." It doesn't occur to him that Jess might not know about Kamala's giant teleporting dog. #justdadthings. "Aretha and Max are at the Liebermans though. I'll probably never see 'em again." He sounds bemused by the whole scenario as he shoves Rocky off his chair who gives an offended bark as he hits the ground running, beelining for Jessica to get some validation. Heavy boots hit the deck next as Frank pushes himself up, knowing once he's upright walking won't be any task at all.

"Ready?"

Lockjaw has her drawing a blank. Detective mind initiate: Sounds like a dog. Until she's proven otherwise, she'll assume Frank arranged Kamala's acquaintance with him. He'll be better protected with her than with Frank. Same goes for the rest of the dogs. Jess has never seen Kamala in action and barely even remembers what her proper powers are but she's owed the benefit of the doubt dozens of times over.

She can look after the Liebermans too. It's not her job but she'll make it hers, that's the kind of person Kamala is. If they continue to get into bed with Frank, that's their prerogative, but if Jess ever sees Micro again, she'll be sure to guilt his ass about it. For Kamala's sake, and the kids'. He and his wife can make whatever dipshit mistakes they want together. But that's a whole big can of worms for another day.

"Ready," is her watery reply, fresh off a swallow of whiskey. She sets down her freshly empty glass and pushes her hair back behind an ear, just for it to fall loose when she leans down to pet Rocky.

He nods, knowing she's thinking about something and also pretty sure he doesn't want to know what it is. Frank closes their sliding door more so the bugs won't get in than any other reason, still used to living in places where locks were foreign objects. It hasn't served him so well in the city, but he doesn't have to worry about that out here. Shoving his hands in jacket pockets, he steps off the deck without looking back, smiling softly when he hears the crunch of leaves under Jessica's boots and four light paws.

"I wonder how far we are from the next cabin." He hadn't kept driving to find out, after all. He's hoping it's farther than they'll walk tonight.

They're going to sweep the cabin when they get back anyway, so Jess doesn't lag behind to bother with the lock. If someone wanted to attack them today, they would have done it already. If they're going to be late, how serious a threat could they be?

Falling into step beside Frank, her eyes are glued to Rocky while his pace and path are in flux from excitement. Wherever his nose takes him, he goes, zigzagging from leaf to stick to a different stick in front of them. She expects to lose him to a random point of interest but his investigation always ceases one step before he falls behind.

She checks up ahead before teasing, "Maybe you'll make a fishing buddy."

Frank snorts at that, turning towards her when the path widens enough for them to walk side-by-side.

"Thought you were my fishin' buddy," he admits, pleading eyes finding hers in the dark. He didn't expect her to have any interest in that particular activity from the start, but maybe after a few days out here the mountain air will get to her. You never know, right?

"That's what your heart's set on?" Incredulity is duking it out with her amusement. Can he really, genuinely picture her sitting in a little tin boat and spearing bait onto a hook? It can't be that hard. It's just a hobby she resigned to passing her by. It's possible she'll like it despite how pointless she thinks it is. Sure, they'll eat what they catch, but they could have bought something comparable before they left town.

Unprecedented, but his enthusiasm is actually making her want to try something.

He leans in towards her until their shoulders tap before turning back to the path ahead. It's somehow ridiculously comforting to know if something jumps out at them right now, worst-case scenario it would just be a regular ass bear. No sound eaters, no tiger bears. There's some rustling, but he's betting on a rabbit or a snake or something else they'll never have to actually see as they continue on.

"What are my chances?" he asks like he's really invested in the answer, finding it easier to focus now that everything but them and the night has fallen away.

The shivering leaves don't bother Rocky. The critter disturbing them must be small and abundant enough that the dog has acclimatized to the sounds already. It makes her wonder how he gets along with the squirrels in the city, who are as bold and brassy as its human citizens.

"Dare to dream," she encourages him, though her tone is confusingly sarcastic. She straightens her signals out by slipping her fingers along his palm and taking his hand.

Just that one stupid phrase perks him up, knowing she wouldn't say it even sarcastically if there wasn't some hope. A little tremor goes through him as her fingers catch against his and it's automatic the way he smiles over at her. It's easy to imagine a permanent arrangement like this when they're out here, nothing but slow-paced days and even slower nights, though of course he'd angle for a few more dogs. He's feeling pretty good about his choice as Rocky sniffs through the brush but sticks close to them.

"You glad we did this?" he asks suddenly, feeling for the first time in years (or maybe even his whole life) like he doesn't have to look over his shoulder. This is about as peaceful as it gets.

Jess can barely stand the smile she's guilty of causing. It soaks in first like a sunburn, before she glances his way and bears the brunt of it. It pulls her back, albeit weakly, to the memory of him in uniform, all decked out like a Clue character. Admittedly, she was too. He'll never see her wear as much colour as she did that night, nor will she ever wear a suit again, and his formal blues have burned up. Good to know they can mock up their own simulation of peace without relying on omniscient supercomputers and chronic existential mania.

"Yeah," she answers simply, kicking her caveats under the rug. She squeezes his hand and turns her head toward the lake to downplay her contentment. It's inherently fragile and it's neither of their friend. She's just tolerating it for a minute at a time. "I wouldn't have, you know? Thought of it. I wouldn't have done it if I did." If not for him.

He's thinking about that night too, not in much depth either. It was the last time he'll ever be in uniform so it's a bit nostalgic for that alone. The rest was weird, but not all unpleasant. There was something cleansing about wearing his whites one last time, though, especially when at first all he could think of was his wedding - and his first dance as Maria's husband. Even now, his throat tightens a bit in remembrance and he holds her hand a little tighter too as a result. For whatever reason, Jessica helps him accept his past without dwelling on it. It's the first reason in the book of many of why he needs her, even if he can't explain it. Maybe it's better left a mystery anyway.

Her words wash over him belatedly, as caught up with his own thoughts as ever before. But he never outright ignores her, at least, not on purpose, so the sentiment does filter through eventually. Frank nods, glancing over at the glistening lake before his eyes dart back over to Rocky to make sure he's still staying close enough to grab. As they wind further into the woods, he almost wishes he had brought a tent.

"Yeah? Well, thanks for listening to me," he teases, swinging their hands a bit as he starts to get a better lay of the land. "For once."

She can't tell quite what current of thought is going through him, just that it isn't strong enough to pull him under. Is he thinking of that night too? Even if he isn't, he probably does go back to it more frequently than she does, and either that doesn't bother her anymore or she's acutely ambivalent to it at the moment.

"If the idea is good, I'll listen," she volleys the shade back at him. The narrowing path guides her in closer to him, and Rocky falls in one step ahead of them and perfectly in between. The darker and denser the forest becomes around them, the more familiar it feels; Jess peers infrequently up through the canopy, grounding herself by the stars. They're a different set from the distant lights above the villages, and they appear dimmer and sparser from human pollution. Jess no longer misses that portion of ozone layer they've decimated.

That gets a bemused lift of his lips, taking the opportunity to walk closer too. It really is a nice night: crisp, but not cold, and the bugs seem to be sticking by the lake and leaving them to walk in peace.

"You got me there," he admits easily enough, settling into a comfortable pace at her side. "Anything else you wanna get to while we're out here? Besides fishing." He's not going to stop.

While the brush has them wedged in together, she slips her hand free of his and wraps her arm around his back instead.

Considering she forecasted a 60% chance of bailing, Jess neglected to think any further into the trip than the quantum state of departure. "I brought my camera," she admits as the afterthought that it was. "I'm not a nature photographer..." She appraises the trees to their left and displays a bit of hammed up ambivalence. Hambivalence. "So I don't know what I'll use it for. Vacation photos?" That pushes her beyond ambivalence, into cringe territory.

Jess cringes at her actions all the time, however, so it's no less likely to happen, and if he has any objections, he can now say his piece. He won't get the opportunity to when she deletes them.

Frank leans into her embrace automatically, one of his hands finding a corner of her jacket to hang onto. It's almost too warm out here pressed together like this, until the wind kicks up, turning his nose and the tips of his ears bright red on contact. He laughs warmly at her suggestion, shoving any family vacations he might have suffered out of his memory for merely enjoying this one. Rocky howls at some leaves and Frank laughs again, trying to picture Jessica being their official vacation photographer. As long as she doesn't give it over to him at any point; then she'll have a full reel of dogs and wildlife unsurprisingly.

"You know we'll have to take at least one for Kam so she won't accuse us of being miserable old people." Even if that's exactly what they are. When even his adjusted eyes have trouble with the darkness of the woods and Rocky stops to sniff the air again, he turns to ask her if they should head back. Except he interrupts himself when he sees her eyes from this close, catching moonlight and reflecting it back at him. His breath catches in his throat right before he leans in to seal his lips over hers in a firm kiss, without a trace of any of his usual tentativeness.

What vacation photos would Frank like? The dog and deer, probably. She can focus on those subjects and slip him into the background of a few shots. One or two of those she might keep for a while. Her memory will suffice to preserve actually significant moments. Jess is painfully aware that that does jack shit to protect them but still thinks it a practical habit, barring exceptional circumstances.

Jess ducks her chin as the breeze picks up, turning her shoulder into the wind so that it might glance off. Hair buffets across the exposed half of her face, catching on her dry lips and lashes. It settles with the wind and she pulls it back behind her ear. She plucks the last loose strands free as their steps slow. Her brows perk inquisitively -- Are they thinking the same thing?

It looks like it, though it changes from Time to head back to inviting nothingness. She cups his face, cold skin to cold skin, refusing to let him go for a long moment. A shallow, warm kiss, Jess repeats it on his lips once it ends, then relents. She takes it upon herself to start them back the way they came, still close at his side. Rocky trots at their heels, reluctant to conclude the adventure.

His lips quiver against hers, leaning fully into the line of her body as they kiss. It feels so good to empty his head of thoughts, letting the wind carry any insecurities he might still hold far away even as the contact winds down. A bit of a dreamy expression clings to his features as they start back towards the house and it's Frank who reaches out for her hand this time, glancing back at Rocky though he can hear paws dutifully crunching leaves just behind them.

Usually, he would stay silent here. Not just because of their back-to-back prison sentences that encouraged quiet above all else; but also because he feels like every time he opens his mouth something drops out Jessica might not want to face. It's not like he doesn't understand where she's coming from either. He feels emboldened by their isolation, however, and the peace that seems to have settled deeply into his frame, wringing some of the permanent tension he carries out and leaving him subtly softer as a result.

"Jess..." he starts, so quiet at first the wind steals the word so that if they weren't so close she might not have realized he'd said anything at all. Frank swallows, any sappy observation he may have shared falling away. Similarly, he's afraid to voice those things, preferring to hold them close to his chest as if by hoarding them in secret it protects the notion of them. "What do you wanna do when we get back?" If there's a bit of color still staining his cheeks, he'll blame the weather.

He takes her hand in the same second the impulse leaves her brain to take his. It's always warm, unless he's been toiling away into the night to deliberately numb himself. Jess wades through the silence, waiting for the next thing to trip out of his or her mouth. It can be morbid and sobering; momentarily free of dread, a dark comment would efficiently balance her out. None are coming to her, though.

She glances over eagerly at the sound of her name, but it lags behind them as they carry on their walk home. He comes up with something else to say than whatever abstract quandary he was about to express. The potential for conflict flickers out, riling her gently. She's fond of the new direction he's chosen, too.

"More of what we were just doing," she answers, omitting all the boring stuff in between: dragging the furniture back inside, taking their coats and shoes off, starting a fire.

Her words trigger a pleasant swoop of warmth through his body, thinking about holding her tight while they kiss by the fire. It's all very picturesque and honestly a little gross. Frank tries to bring himself back down to Earth as they come back up on the lake, his steps hugging it tight as if they could lose it even in the dark. A loud, piercing bark startles him out of the complacent calm he'd worked up to, and he drops Jessica's hand abruptly in anticipation of Rocky running after something in the night. The dog darts after something Frank can't see and it gets his heart going before he even starts after him, losing rational thought at the brief but paralyzing fear that something could happen to his dog. He ends up at a big tree between the water and the cabin, watching as Rocky tries to scramble up after a squirrel, still barking in an alarmed frenzy. Catching his breath as he realizes he panicked for nothing, he looks around him for Jess, not sure if he left her behind or if she ran alongside him the whole way, the tunnel vision brought on by his anxiety starting to fade away.

"Jesus," he murmurs to no one in particular, wondering if shit like this will ever stop setting him off.

She's beginning to wonder where Rocky's gotten off to when his bark rings out. Trusting Frank's instincts, Jess mirrors them behind his back. She pursues a step behind and ends up at his side with her fists clenched. Whether the threat is a bear or a hitman, she'll protect Frank if he gets Rocky out of harm's way, but the plan dies on an exhausted scoff.

Still keyed up, Jess drops her head as her hands go slack. "Come on," she says as she coaxes Frank back into a walk, taking him softly by the arm. She calls for Rocky, and after a few increasingly stressed shouts, he returns to them with his tongue lolling out.

"Does he do that in the city?" she asks. They could talk about the respective paranoia noosed around their throats or they could talk about squirrels, make out, and sleep it off. Hard, painful conversations are a night two activity, at the earliest.

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a million years later hi

3/4s of a million years later oh hiii

we're both SO COOL i love it

a paradoxically casual devotion