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

"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.

"Uh," he says aloud, his brain stalling until she grabs him. Her touch pulls him back to reality though he still looks visibly shaken as they lock eyes. Immense gratitude lit by some deeper, darker emotion swims into his gaze before he forces his eyes back on the path, a pleasant warmth gathering in his middle despite the cool air and everything that just occurred. "Yeah, I mean. He's a dog." Dogs chase squirrels, it's not a big deal unless you're a super paranoid ex-special ops guy with three different collectible sets of PTSD. Not like she'd know anything about that, right? He relaxes just in time for them to come up to the cabin, his breathing finally evening out even as he prepares himself to search the place before they get settled for the night.

"And city squirrels are assholes," she says, coming to her roundabout point. They're tenacious, greedy and brazen. If they've all run away from him, Rocky has to be narrowing in on the one that finally won't. She can imagine Frank avoids taking him through parks, depending on his own mood.

The cabin appears to be exactly the same as they left it, without any out-of-place details sticking out as they get closer. Rocky runs ahead of them, onto the deck to toss himself into the couch cushions. "Get inside," she chides him, then calls to him again once she's at the door. After a false start, he gives into the draw of her attention. He doesn't sniff out any unusual scents around her feet, nor stand alert at any noises inside, and Jess doesn't hear or sense anything either.

Once she lets him in, he does the bulk of the sweep in seconds, popping in and out of every room before returning to her. Jess switches on the lamp closest to the door and rests for a beat. She scans the room, satisfied it's undisturbed. Barring squirrel attacks, they can securely hunker down for the night. She gives Rocky a scrub between the ears, rewarding him for giving Frank back some peace of mind, and heads out to grab the couch.

He half-grins at her remark, and then the smile warms up at the rest of her actions, watching as she guides Rocky into searching their temporary home so he doesn't have to. She's such a dog mom and doesn't even know it; and he's sure as fuck not going to tell her and risk throwing it off. When she starts to move furniture back inside, he spurs into action to help even knowing full well she doesn't need it, just to speed things up more than anything. With that done, he sets the rescued bottle of whiskey on the table for her and abandons his jacket on the arm of the couch before going to crouch by the fire to get it started.

"Can you check on his water?" Frank asks while deep in the throws of his task, not realizing he's asked her to help him in a few short hours more than he ever has before, like all of a sudden he's no longer walking on eggshells every time they're together. Later he might realize it and start fucking up again, but for now he feels relaxed and on task.

Jess shoots him a dry look from the opposite arm of the couch, then bites the inside of her cheek until the temptation to smile passes. They set the furniture down and Jess shucks her jacket on top of his. She eyes the bottle of whiskey behind Frank's back, glancing to him when he speaks.

She mutters a "yeah" and turns heel for the kitchen. The bowl on the floor is half empty but the remaining water is a little cloudy. Rocky's paws clack tellingly against the floor as he curiously goes from person to person, unable to puzzle together their actions. Jess's activity is more familiar so he stands a foot away from her, sight pinpointed on the water bowl. She picks it up to rinse it and fill it with fresh water, then barely has it on the floor before Rocky's muzzle splashes into it.

The obnoxious sound of his lapping tongue reignites her thirst. Jess grabs the nearest glass to pour herself enough water to then swallow down in couple gulps.

"Water or beer?" she calls over to Frank. Though unaware of it, she's enjoying their streak of easy ask-and-answer. It's the first time they've cooperated this long without someone's life at stake.

He does a deep soul-search for such a simple inquiry, a long pause following her question that stretches on so long she may think he didn't hear her or is ignoring her. But finally, he speaks up in a gruff tone without looking away from the hearth, he can tell she's in the kitchen by the tenor of her voice and it's comforting the way interacting in soundproofed spaces keeping to low tones once was.

"Water. Please." Frank licks his lips as he realizes just how dehydrated he feels after the long drive and brief imbibing followed by their walk.

His pause for deliberation gives her time to consider the glass in her hand and replacing it for a new one. That would be three used today, which is more dishes to do later. Growing up Walker has made her over-reliant on dishwashers, and of all the chores she doesn't do in her own home, washing dishes is routinely reshuffled to the bottom of the priority list. Jess shakes out a couple loose drops from her glass, to be reused, and gets Frank a clean one from the cupboard.

She assumed he would choose water and got dangerously close to second guessing herself for a second there. Maybe he was tallying the number of bottles he brought against his rate of consumption but she's probably thinking about it like an alcoholic.

Jess brings his glass over, offering it from over his shoulder. She brushes his temple with the back of her knuckles once he takes it. "You got a lighter?" If not, she can rootle around for one. First, she puts her glass on the coffee table -- at the far end from the whiskey for convenience's sake. They all know what's up.

It's not like he'd have been offended if she brought him a beer, he'll probably grab one for himself in a bit. Either way, he accepts the glass with a grateful murmur, turning his face into her hand and closing his eyes to savor it for the brief moment it lasts.

"Yeah," he answers her, taking a gulp of water before pointing to his jacket. It's in there, probably with a knife.

She wasn't offering to go get it. But the cabin is so small that going from one end to the other would be a negligible favor, and it's a lot closer than that. Jess passes the dog on her way to his jacket, where she fishes around in one pocket after another. The leather edge of his sheathed knife rings a distant bell that Jess tunes out.

Shortly, she has the lighter and approaches to hand it to him over his same shoulder as before. There's no warmth to his skin when their hands slightly touch, which gives Jess an idea. She ducks out of the living room, to strip the bed of its accent blanket. She returns with it bundled loosely in both arms.

He was spacing out some, honestly, the cold stalling him out even as he tries to get their fire started. Frank takes the lighter from her with a somewhat owlish blink as he watches her traipse off and turns back to his task, redoubling his efforts. By the time she's back with the blanket, a baby ember is steadily gaining confidence. Once Frank is sure it can sustain itself, he turns to see what she's doing, Rocky trailing after her closely. Folding one leg under himself so he can watch her uninterrupted this time, a smile starts to build without him putting any effort towards it at all.

"Good call," he murmurs, waiting to see where she'll settle before he tries to move, he's rather enjoying being right next to the flame anyway since it's not throwing tons of heat yet.

"I know," she responds, then bites the inside of her cheek to suppress a grin.

Jess drapes the blanket over the arm of the couch, freeing up her hands to brush off the dirt loosed from Rocky's paws. He interprets it as her patting the cushions and accepts the invitation by hopping up, circling in place and hunkering down. She admonishes him with a glare but concedes defeat. Jess pulls the blanket around herself before having a seat beside the dog. While he fosters an ember in the hearth, she slides the whiskey bottle over, as well as her glass.

She glances up when she starts to pour. Muscle memory will serve her the right amount. She nods at the fireplace. "Any heat yet?" If there is, it's not enough to make it past him yet. Fair trade-off, with her hogging the blanket.

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

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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

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