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[underachievement]

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[underachievement]

At first, she groans and budges stubbornly. She shuffles over more accommodatingly as he squeezes in, displacing Rocky's paws in turn. His grumble sounds alarmingly like hers, to her own ears. Within a second, the dog has resettled, and the blanket's gotten wedged under her thigh. Jess yanks the corner free, then the whole thing, just in time for Frank to tug on it. Spontaneously, she overindulges him and tosses the greater half of it into his face and over his head.

[oorah]

A startled little noise escapes his lips as he struggles to get the blanket off his head and rubs at his eye pathetically where it hit him. Frank pouts at her a second but then settles in at her side, nudging one leg under hers so they can fit better at the half of the couch Rocky has graciously allowed them to sit on.

"Rude," he protests belatedly and with absolutely no heat whatsoever. Instead, he retaliates by securing the blanket around his shoulder and snagging her around the waist with his other arm so it can insulate them with their own body heat. His cold nose presses just under her throat as he lays his head practically over her heart to stay. Good luck prying him loose any time soon.

[underachievement]

That's a new noise. Jess's lips purse as she battens down a smirk, and she threads her fingers securely through the roots of his hair while he gets comfortable. Having his arms around her, his rough muscles at ease, lulls a sigh free from deep down in her lungs. The breath she takes after feels all the more vital to maintain a vestige of alertness. For his sake. No conscious part of her wants him to find safety in her company, yet she likes it when he does, and she hates it a bit less with every instance unshadowed by the monsters in their shared past.

"You're rude," is her comeback; she struggles quarter-heartedly to lean forward and grab her whiskey though the glass remains several inches out of reach. Jess is amused enough by the picture in her head of easily standing up and dislodging him, she's not bothered. In reality, his reflexes would probably save his ass from hitting the floor, but that's not how the image plays out for her.

[oorah]

He grins against her, catching a tiny breath in his throat at the way she hangs onto his hair. He's back to his clean-cut self, but he left the top just about as long as he could get away with in regulations - something he never pushed while enlisted, of course. Now it has a different meaning altogether.

"You got me," he admits, voice gravely and close to her ear. If she didn't make his heart race just by breathing near him, he could easily drop off to sleep here, the way they used to do in shifts. It's never been in his nature to be this comfortable with someone else watching his back, and after the betrayal he'd faced it wasn't an easy road getting here; but he honestly can't think of one thing that would displace his trust in Jess now, as much as she might hate it.