Fractured (Part 1) [Jersey]

[Peter Parkman]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--

<Jersey> telepathic message: Peter, are you alright? Text me in reply, I know you can't do it telepathically. Kallista told me what happened and I'm with her now.


<Peter Parkman> [text] A few broken ribs. In the sewers.


<Jersey> telepathic message: Baby, I'm so sorry. I can't believe she attacked you. I just... I thought you two were trying to get along. I'm so confused.


<Peter Parkman> [text] I'm not.


<Jersey> telepathic message: You aren't confused?


<Peter Parkman> [text] No.


<Jersey> telepathic message: Care to explain or are you annoyed with me too for some reason?


<Peter Parkman> [text] I'm not confused as to why she attacked me. She's made that clear to me - she's just a sick individual who sees us as pawns in her private game of chess. I want to believe that she is a liar - that you don't want to stay there with her, that you are angry with her. Are you angry with her?


<Jersey> telepathic message: Kallista said she attacked you for no reason, that she did it because she just doesn't like you. I'm mad at her, but I don't like conflict. She's confused on why I'm not yelling at her.


<Peter Parkman> [text] So am I. Maybe she isn't a liar. I'm not confused about her. I'm confused about you.


<Jersey> telepathic message: I took it back on the yelling. Voice just pitched. I... I am so confused on everything right now.


<Peter Parkman> [text] You stay there and sort out your confusion, then.


<Jersey> telepathic message: My sire, who I love and adore, just attacked the man I'm in love with for no reason other than "I don't like him.". I have every right to be confused.


<Peter Parkman> [text] That's fine, Jersey. I understand completely.


<Jersey> telepathic message: I can't believe this is happening.


<Jersey> After attempting to attack her sire and then proceeding to mindblock her for two hours, Jersey made her way quietly back to the cabin and softly spoke into his mind. 'Peter? Where are you?' She wasn't comfortable in the least with the fact he hadn't answered her while she was speaking to Kallista. She was upset and it was evident even in her tone. When she reached the woods, she ran through the path and chewed on the inside of her cheek.


<Peter Parkman> Peter had got home and had tried to check how severe the broken bones were; he'd stood in front of the mirror that he hadn't got rid of yet, forgetting. He'd pulled up his shirt to try to see how far the bruise had spread, but there was no reflection. In a moment of uncharacteristic rage, his fist had slammed against the glass. The bathroom mirror had shattered - Ellie, who'd been standing by the door yelped and ran. Peter felt awful. The dogs had done nothing wrong. He'd left his phone and wallet and keys on the stand by the door as he'd followed Ellie out to the kennels, where he'd crawled into Hunter's. It was the biggest. The dogs trotted in after him, one after the other, all trying to cram into the space. He huddled in there with them. He couldn't respond to Jersey, and so he waited. She'd find him, sooner or later.


<Jersey> Following his scent quietly as she reached the yard, she pulled her hair back into a low ponytail and went into the house, calling out for him softly and chewed on her bottom lip. After a while, the blonde found him inside one of the kennels and crouched down before sitting down on her knees, setting her palm against the cage as she heard Bear approach her and nuzzle her arm. She turned her head and pressed a kiss to his nose, studying Peter quietly before speaking. "I can't play nurse if you're sitting in there where I can't get you." When she smiled, she winced and sighed before sitting down on the ground completely and pressed her face against the dog's fur. "I tried to attack Kallista. I didn't manage it, but I purposely mindblocked her for two hours."


<Peter Parkman> Peter was huddled in the back corner, his back against the wall, one arm draped over Hunter and the other laying on top of a sleeping KD. Or, she was sleeping until Jersey made her appearance, which stirred all the dogs into excitement. Peter grunted as they moved, and forced him to move, too. "I don't need a nurse. I'm fine," he said. Physically, anyway - he knew the bones would heal. Mentally, however, he was still trying to come to grips.


<Jersey> "Parkman, get that *** of yours out here please before I take the cage apart." She gave him a look that said she'd do it, too. Greeting each dog as they came around her, Jersey hugged Lady around the neck and pressed her face against the dog's fur.


<Peter Parkman> "No. The worst thing you can do for me right now is make me go out there," he said. She wanted to nurse him, but forcing him out into the wide open space wouldn't work. The cage was nice and square. The measurements were easy, and symmetrical. It was a cacoon of even numbers, and Peter felt safe inside of it.


<Jersey> The telepath pushed her eyebrows together as she sighed and adjusted to sit beside him. "Alright." Jersey set her head softly against the cage, Bear halfway laying on her lap as Lady took the otherside. KD and the others went back to Peter. "How bad is it?"


<Peter Parkman> Peter closed his eyes. How bad is what? His ribs? His head? His heart? He didn't know how to answer that question. "She said you weren't angry. It's like anger was only an afterthought. If deep down you think I deserved it, you just need to tell me," he murmurs. He felt, rather than saw Hunter and others come back to him. He winced only slightly as he rearranged himself so that the dogs could lie beside, with him, on him. He liked to be enveloped by their warmth and the stacatto beats of their little hearts.


<Jersey> "I was mad, and the more she seemed to get amused about everything, I tried to overwhelm her mind... Peter, I'm so sorry. I really am." Jersey watched him wince and softly grasped the metal between them. She didn't like the distance, "No one deserves to be attacked. Not you, well Kallista does but that failed partially on my part because I didn't think to stab her, but... you shouldn't have been hurt."


<Peter Parkman> "So you tried and failed, and you ... blocked her," he said. He wasn't really sure what she meant by it, though he'd read something about it. Could vaguely understand it. "And now what? It's going to be okay if she just takes her anger out on me whenever she feels like it, for no damned reason but to let off steam? I tried to make it work, I offered her an olive branch but she's just thrown that right back in my face," he spat. His fingers clenched into Hunter's fur - not enough to hurt Hunter, but enough to ball his anger into something physical. "Stop apologising, Jersey. What the **** have you got to be sorry about?!" he asked.


<Jersey> "I stopped her from being able to use powers... like summoning the creature she did to break your ribs." Huffing, she leaned forward to listen to him. There was genuine surprise playing across her features until her jaw fell lightly when he said ****. When she found her voice, she was stumbling over her words before she stopped, took a deep breath, "Everything, Peter. I'm sorry my sire attacked you. I'm sorry that I've clearly brought you into something that can't be fixed because my sire hates you and has hated you from the beginning. I couldn't take two damn minutes to tell you that I was alright. That I wasn't alive, but that I was turned so you wouldn't go off at her. I'm sorry she hates you, because I..." She got up, heading into the cabin.


<Peter Parkman> The way Kallista treated Peter was no one's fault but Kallista's. It was his fault in the beginning - a fault that he claimed, that he owned, that he wore. It was bridge that he had walked across and he'd hoped that Kallista would join him, but instead she seemed intent to watch the bridge burn. Jersey had nothing to do with it, and it frustrated Peter that she felt so keenly that it was all her own fault. If he were feeling like himself, he'd have crawled out of that comfortable space and he'd have tried to make it better, to soothe her. But he wasn't feeling himself. And so he slammed his head against the bars and shouted. "WALK AWAY THEN. I'M NOT FOLLOWING YOU." It might sound as if he were a stubborn child, but underneath it all, he was legitimately
terrified of leaving the small, comfortable space.


<Jersey> "Shout at me all you want, you can sit in your cage right until the sun comes up for all I care!" She shouted right back, although it went directly into his head as she refused to speak out loud other than to make quiet insults under her breath. Going into the bedroom, she collected a pair of pajama bottoms and one of his shirts that she liked to sleep in, going into the bathroom and swearing when she saw the mirror. She tensed, thinking about the fact he was yelling and certainly not acting like himself. She considered his OCD and huffed, turning on the hot water to take a shower.


<Peter Parkman> Peter glanced upward. The sun would be a problem, he realised now. He tried. He crawled, haphazardly, toward the exit of the kennel. It hurt, and he hissed. He lingered by the doorway. He hovered. He thought about it. Just one step. Just one step and he would be out. But how many steps to the front door? Ten? Twelve? He couldn't remember. He should, but he couldn't. He fell backward, scrambling back to the back of the kennel. He buried the heels of his palms into his eye sockets. He rubbed, hard, until he saw stars. He shouted, at nothing and at no one - the dogs left him there. They thought he was angry at them. And besides, the food was inside, where Jersey had gone.


<Jersey> When she finished her shower and her clothes were changed, she moved cautiously over the glass barefoot before going to clean it up. "I can't believe he broke the -" and then it dawned on her that he'd actually done something violent. She paused in her actions and pushed the dustpan onto the countertop, running outside. "Peter, have you talked to Keara about your OCD? How it's affecting you? You broke the mirror and you said ****. You don't say ****, I say ****. Are you alright?" Her eyebrows pushed together.


<Peter Parkman> Peter's hands were shaking. He clenched and unclenched his fists a couple of time before burying his curled fingers in this lap, drawing his knees up to hold them in place. His forehead rested against his knees and there he sat, curled into a tight ball. He focused on his breathing exercises. He didn't need to breath, but the monotonous rhythm of it helped. He drew in a sharp breath as he heard Jersey coming back out. Stars continued to dance as he squeezed his eyes more tightly shut. "I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm find if I can do ... if I can stick to my routine and my spaces and if I'm not attacked for no reason on the way home and if I can just... if I can just..." he shook his head. He rocked forward, and then back again. He didn't know what he needed to do,
now. He didn't know how to make it go away this time. It had been a very, very long time since it had got this bad. And he couldn't remember.. he'd had pills back then. He doesn't have them now.


<Jersey> Jersey reached into the cage softly, gently grasping his leg and tried to pull him close enough so that she wouldn't have to get in the cage with him. "Baby, listen to me. It's alright." She reached for his hands, giving up before she sat down inside and frowned. In some ways, she was a little scared. "I hate not being able to do anything to help you. And for the moment, I'm pushing aside the anger I have at you for yelling at me. Focus on something. I know you can." She sighed, "Honey, I get shot at when I come home. These days, it's normal because we're vampires. Because there are hunters." She felt strings get pulled in her heart and she watched the man as she fell quiet, entirely clueless on what to do. "Let's get inside, so I can look at your side."


<Peter Parkman> "The hunters have a reason," he groaned, still tight in his ball and flinching when he felt her touch, almost inching away from it. "They think we're monsters and they have a reason. That's different," he said. His teeth grinded, jaw clenched. "I'm trying not to focus on how much I hate her. I hate her. And what you might do if I couldn't control myself the next time I see her," he said. Because he won't be able to. He realised it, then. If he weren't so terrified of the wide world he might have launched himself past Jersey to go search for Kallista, to take his retaliation shot. That was how one dealt with bullies, wasn't it? Show them that you won't be beaten. He shook his head. "I can't."


<Jersey> "If either of you touch the other again, I will knock both of you on your ***. I don't care if I get hurt, I'm done with this. ******* hate each other all you want, but I do not want it to resort to blows." She snapped, baring her fangs at him for once. "I absolutely hate that the man I'm in love with is sitting in a damn dog kennel with broken ribs, unhinging. I absolutely hate that my sire, someone I respect so much had to be so petty to hurt you because she felt like it. It's absolutely pathetic that I have to be the adult in this entire situation and hope for the best that you two will get over whatever the **** goes on between you to keep sane."

There was the snap that Kallista had been waiting for and the telepath leaned forward to press her lips lightly to his forehead. "I'm going to go get the tarp if you insist on sleeping here. I'll sleep with the dogs in our bed. Be miserable." She backed out and got to her feet.


<Peter Parkman> Peter's eyes finally opened. She backed out and got to her feet, again as if she were going to walk away, as if she were going to have the last word on the matter. "That's it? She attacks me and the worst you can do is try to overwhelm her, and call her petty. You can still respect her after being so petty? Nothing goes ON between us. Nothing. Last time there was an interaction between us I was thanking her for doing that ritual. She was being nice. I was being nice. And now this?! What the... And you want to be angry at ME because... because what, I don't deserve to be pissed off at her?! And you want to call me a child after she's acting like... no, whatever. Go away then."


<Jersey> "No, Peter. I wanted to ******* punch her, but I know I couldn't hit her. I can control my anger. I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at her and I'm angry at the entire ******* situation." She turned on him, "You deserve every ounce of being pissed off at her, and the attack on you was three months too ******* late on her end." Grabbing the tarp, Jersey threw it on top of him before heading inside and slamming the door. She pushed the thought into her sire's mind afterwards, letting her heard every word that Jersey had growled before going to the bed and curling up under the blankets.


<Peter Parkman> Peter blinked in the darkness and the silence. He stayed right where he was. At some point, he moved away from the edge of the cage. He wasn't sure he trusted the tarp. What if there were holes in it? But he still couldn't bring himself to leave. He curled up in the middle of the cage. At some point, he was joined by Hunter, the heavy weight of the dog pressed up against Peter's back. And, just before the sun came up and Peter passed out completely, he rolled over to curl into the warmth of the animal, face buried in his fur.

_______________________________________________________________________
The Next Night…

<Peter Parkman> When Peter woke up, it was due to aching pain. No, not just aching, but burning, too. The tarp hadn't been big enough, or had been off kilter, or there was a hole - Peter didn't know how it had happened, but his hand was singed, blistered, burnt. Just a slice of it. It wasn't that bad - no doubt he'd shifted his hand away from the fire of the sun's rays as soon as they'd hit, but it had been too late. The majority of the pain came from his ribs. Still broken, the sharp pain radiating through his torso. He groaned, and Hunter shifted. The dog whined, and started to lick at Peter's face. Peter just laid there, letting the dog lick him.


<Jersey> Once the sun had gone down and the blood was delivered, she gave the delivery man a smile that had been clearly forced before she used her foot to nudge the door shut. "Are you awake?" She called, heading outside and still in his teeshirt. Sometime in the night, she'd forgone the pants and she carefully tugged the tarp off. Seeing his hand, her lips pressed into a thin line because she blamed herself for it, but at that moment, she could care less with her anger.


<Peter Parkman> "No," Peter said. It all came crashing back; the reason why he was in Hunter's home, the reason why his ribs were broken. The whole damned debacle. And he felt like he needed time to gather his thoughts, to try to return to some kind of state of grace. As much as he wanted to throw his arm over Hunter in a bid to coax the dog into lying back down, he instead rolled over and up with a long, low groan. He was sitting. He needed to drink his blood. He couldn't be in this doghouse. He needed to shower, and get dressed. And go about his night as if nothing had happened. Yes, that's how he could fix it. His head was bowed as he looked up at Jersey, eyes hooded and wary.


<Jersey> "I hope you hurt." She replied simply, upset as she whistled for the large dog, "Come on Hunter, dinnertime. Dad's staying out here until he decides otherwise." She set the cup down between Peter's legs once the large dog had moved and went back inside, shutting the door behind her while she went to feed all of the dogs and sipped at her blood. She was still mad at him and at everything that had been said. When the blood was gone, she moved to rinse out her cup as he usually did for her before setting it aside to wait for his and went to continue cleaning up the glass.


<Peter Parkman> Peter sucked back the blood as if it would bolster his resolve and banish his fear. It did neither of these things. He sucked and swallowed as he stared at the wide open doorway and the world beyond. He just had to get back to the house. That was it. That was all he had to manage. Finally, after five minutes, he began the endeavour; it was the hardest that he had done in a long time. In the moment, he thought it was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. Three times he tried to step out only to fall back. On the fourth attempt he ran. He counted as he ran but he ran. Straight to the cabin, forgetting about his cup. Only remembering once he reached the doorway but shouting away his frustration as he couldn't, just couldn't go back. The front door slammed behind him not in anger, but in haste. He skidded to a halt when he reached the bathroom, only to find Jersey inside, cleaning up the glass. A wail crawled from Peter's throat as his arms went up over his head. "Noooo no, you need to get out. You need to... please..." he paced the paced the small space, shaking his hands, fighting the tremor.

[Jersey]

--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--


<Jersey> "Oh for the love of. Fine. Clean it." She sighed softly, lifting her hands before she walked away and let him do it as she went to sit on the couch as she always did. A sigh escaped past her lips, her legs stretching out while she closed her eyes and tried not to scream; whether or not it was at her anger about everything or the OCD, she was in a mood. A small sigh escaped past her lips, staring at the ceiling while she waited silently.


<Peter Parkman> The war waged away in Peter's mind like it always did, except this time it was the OCD that was winning. This particular battle was being lost and he could do nothing but close the door behind Jersey. The guilt was an explosion; it had him squeezing the handle of the bathroom door as if he would launch out again, get on his knees, crawl toward Jersey and beg her for forgiveness. But he didn't. The guilt wasn't enough. It was that vow, that he stop apologising for who he was, and for his disease, such as it was. It reared its ugly head and he was submitting. He had to focus on his routine. He had to act like this was the same as every other night, and then it would be okay. He told himself that it would be okay. He repeated the mantra to himself as he circled the bathroom, ignoring the glass as it crunched beneath his feet as he measured the space with his steps. Only then did he undress and step into the shower. Only then did he try to relax beneath the torrential steam.


<Jersey> When she heard the shower start, Jersey got up and went to change her clothes - a pair of shorts and a teeshirt - before setting the rest in the hamper as she started her own routine that would fall in line with his own. She sighed quietly, singing to herself while she tried to calm down and go back to her usual less angry self before ultimately, she grabbed a book she needed to read and laid down on the couch. At least then, she could focus on it and not the sound of water hitting him.


<Peter Parkman> Peter shampooed, twice. He counted the back and forth scrubbing - one two, three four, five six, seven eight. Sides - one two, three four, five six, seven eight. And so on. He rinsed. He lathered the conditioner. He combed. One, two, three, four, five, six. He waited, he counted the two minutes as he lathered his body in soap. He rinsed. He cleaned his teeth, counting the strokes. By the time he'd finished, his body felt warm again. And the world had, somewhat, fallen back into place. It was no longer tilting dangerously on the edge of a cliff. Peter dried himself, and moved into the bedroom; the steam billowed out from behind him as he moved. He dressed - black jeans, a button-up that was so dark blue it might has well have been black, and over the top a crisp, clean, light grey cardigan. He folded the collar neatly over the cardigan. He combed his hair again. One, two, three, for, five, six, and sweep. Neat. Not a hair out of place. He put on his shoes. He wasn't going anywhere, not yet. But this was his routine. And he needed to be wearing every item of clothing. He clicked the watch onto his wrist. Only then did he exit the bedroom. He cleared his throat as he retrieved the broom, the dustpan - as he went back to the bathroom to finish the job that Jersey had started.


<Jersey> After a little while, Jersey got up and went to the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe once he begun to clean it. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, staring at him with narrowed green eyes as she studied his outfit and clearly debated about something. "Peter?" She asked, "Shouldn't you be laying down because of your ribs? And I know you're OCD, but you probably hurt like hell. From how she made it sound, you got hit hard."


<Peter Parkman> The very thought of being bed bound, remembering the way it was after the fae had attacked, almost had Peter spiralling. He paused in his cleaning, his broad shoulders tense as he took a deep breath, counted to ten, and slowly released it. "I'm not going to lay around until I heal. I can't. It's not that bad," he said. He'd been ignoring the pain that spliced through him every time he lifted his arms, every time he bent over. Even now, like the bone was trying to pierce through the skin from the inside. One last brush into the dustpan and all the glass was retrieved from the ground. He stood, and turned to face Jersey. She was blocking the door, through which he had to go to get to the bin. He took a step forward, faltered, and stepped back again. He cleared his throat, awkwardly.


<Jersey> She watched him quietly, lifting her eyes to study his features before she stepped forward and slipped her hand behind his head. Mindful of his ribs, she went onto her toes and pressed a long, tender kiss to his lips. "Toll." She shrugged when she was done, stepping back and getting out of his way.


<Peter Parkman> Dustpan in one hand, brush in the other, Peter could do nothing but hold his arms open as Jersey slipped forward and up to kiss him. He mumbled against the kiss, eyes closing of their own volition. He stood frozen even as she pulled away. His eyes blinked open. He was still wary. She had been so angry. And he had been so angry. He still was... but he didn't want to remember. He swallowed, smiled, and slipped past Jersey, sideways, back grazing against the door as he strode toward the kitchen, and the bin. He saw the rinsed cup on the sink and his eye twitched. He'd left his own out in the kennel. He'd have to go back and get it. But there was still glass around the sink and stuck in the glass of the mirror's frame. That, first. The act of cleaning was soothing in and of itself.


<Jersey> "I love you. I'm still mad at you, but I love you." She watched him and walked outside while whistling cheerfully to play with the dogs. Of course, she was more frustrated with her sire, but she had her plans on how to calm down. The question was, would he be difficult and give in? Jersey pondered as she frowned and rolled her eyes, picking up his cup as one of the dogs went to sniff it. "Peter." She sighed, shaking her head and picked up a dog toy, tossing it underhand as Bear and Hunter ran after it.


<Peter Parkman> Peter tensed again. Twitched. It was right there, on the tip of his tongue. The apology, but it got strangled in his throat and Jersey left the cabin before he had the chance to speak. Which was a good thing, because the words he would have spoken wouldn't have been apology. He continued to clean up the glass, a little more brusquely than before. A sharp tip snagged his finger and he hissed. There was no blood. The scratch closed up almost immediately. Only after the bathroom was spotless did he step outside. His cup was in Jersey's hand and he found himself crossing his arms over his chest. He'd been dwelling. "What exactly is it you're angry at me for?" he asked.


<Jersey> Jersey blinked, surprised when she heard his voice and she turned to look at him over her shoulder. "For yelling at me like a jackass when I apologized because she won't." She stared at him, running her tongue over her lips to wet them before she frowned. "I shouldn't have yelled at you in return, but oh ******* well." Picking up the toy as it dropped on her foot, she tossed her hair over her shoulder and turned her back to him after looking him over once more.


<Peter Parkman> "And you deserve it, too!" he said, the statement a wail rather than a shout. "You can't go around apologising for other people's... pettiness," he said, gesturing with one strong arm to the city, beyond the wilderness, where he knew Kallista to be. He swallowed. He bit the side of his tongue. He pointed to the cup in Jersey's hand, and held out his own, palm up. "Give it to me," he said.


<Jersey> "Try not to flail a lot, you're still hurt and I know from experience that side injures are a *****." Jersey walked over to him with a sigh, pushing the arm down before she gave him the cup. "Go do what you need to do, but I'm not letting you go into work today. End of discussion, so take your shoes off when you're inside, and if you argue with me, I will pin you down and remove them myself." She stared up at him, her expression entirely serious.


<Peter Parkman> Peter stood his ground. For a second or two he just stared down at Jersey from his considerable height over her. His lips were tight, his eyes sharp. The styrofoam screamed as his grip clenched. "Business can't run itself," he said, simply, before turning around and striding back toward the cabin. Into the kitchen, to the sink where he would rinse out the cup with gaze averted and refraining from breathing.


<Jersey> "Then do it from home, but you're not going in." She stated stubbornly, following after him and leaning into the counter while she watched him, "You're injured. You wouldn't let me do it." She smiled sweetly, "And like it or not, I will pin your gorgeous self down. I'm small, but I'm faster than you."


<Peter Parkman> The Styrofoam, this time, does crack and break as Peter closed his fingers too tightly around it. A snap, and a squeal. He opened the cupboard, flicked the bin's lid, dropped the cup inside and slammed the lid shut, as if the cup was a vicious creature intent only on biting him. "The injury isn't here," he started, fingers splayed over his broken ribs as he turned to face Jersey. She was teasing. He was still serious. "It's in here," he said, drilling his finger at his temple. "If you keep me here I fear it'll do more damage than if you let me go," he tried to explain.


<Jersey> Jersey softly moved to him and set her hands on his hips, leaning up as if she were going to kiss him before she pushed him back into the wall and pinned him there with her own form as carefully as she could, as gently as she could. "Peter, look at me. Focus on me. Not what your OCD is telling you to do. I know that it's something that drives you, and I think that it scares you, but baby, you are hurt and I will not let you go to work."


<Peter Parkman> It didn't take much for Jersey to pin Peter. All she would have had to do was corner him. She didn't have to have strength or dexterity to bend him to her will; she had another power, maybe she was unaware. Maybe she was completely aware. Her femininity had him terrified. He pushed his hands into his pockets and sighed. His head spun. He took a deep breath and finally, his wild eyes came to settle on Jersey's features. He huffed another sigh, face skewed, shoulders hunched. "It terrifies me. It... you saw... last night .. and that's not even... please, Jersey, just let me go," he pleaded with her.


<Jersey> "I don't want you to go to work, Peter. I want you to stay home with me," She spoke softly before sighing, "we got into a fight. I don't like fighting with you, hell, we went to bed mad each other and you got burnt. I let you sleep literally in the doghouse." She ran her hands through her hair before stepping back. "Go to work if you want. I'm going to be on the couch and cuddling with the dogs."


<Peter Parkman> She stepped away and Peter somehow felt bereft. She was making him feel guilty and he didn't want it. Didn't need it. His voice cracked, when it ripped from his throat. "It's got nothing to do with you," he said. "My hand got burnt because I, I couldn't leave the doghouse," he said, pounding his chest with his finger. Again, the skew of his face as he forgot about his ribs. He swayed away from the wall. "Because it was secure in there, get it? It was a space that I could measure and in knowing its measurements I felt safe. I wanted to come to bed with you. I didn't want to go to sleep, angry. But I couldn't help it. Couldn't. So don't go blaming yourself for that, too, because it's all on me," he said, a little desperately.


<Jersey> Jersey reached up to grasp his hands, lowering them with a bothered expression as she set them against her chest. "Remember how you used to tell me I used to wince if I forgot about my eyebrow? This is your eyebrow. Stop moving." She frowned before just studying his features as she listened to him. "Peter, you've counted our bedroom how many times now?" She frowned faintly, and sighed. "And even if it isn't my fault, I still feel bad because we're supposed to take care of each other."


<Peter Parkman> "I have," he said, softly, glancing toward the door of the bedroom. "But it was getting from one place to the other. All the space in between. This is it. This is what I warned you about. Now do you see? If I go to work you're going to be angry at me for that too, and if you can't handle it, if it's not something that you can deal with, if you're always going to be angry with me you can still leave," he said, the words flooding in a breathless rush.


<Jersey> Her eyebrows pushed together before she sighed, "I'm sorry for this and the pain that it's going to cause." She reached up and grabbed him by the collar of the shirt, forcibly yanking him to her height so that she could look him directly in the eye. "I'm going to say this one more time, Peter. I am not leaving you because of your OCD. I love you. I'm not always going to be angry at you, and I realize that yanking you down is counterproductive, but *******-a man. If I were going to leave, I would have done it last night after you slept in the doghouse rather than in your bed, with your girlfriend who was waiting for you before she fell asleep."


<Peter Parkman> Two things happened at the same time. The first - a wave of terror as his collar was yanked and pulled out of place. He had gone to trouble to make sure everything was neat and uncrumpled. There was anger, that the neatness should be dislodged. But the second, far more overwhelming, was the pain. As if by standing straight the ribs had started to stitch themselves back together, and by yanking him so suddenly they were torn asunder again, all the healing rendered moot. Bound to start again. The pain caused the stars to jump behind Peter's eyes, and triggered latent vampiric instinct. The hunger and violence of a predator; the anger, the need to retaliate. His body jolted, his grasping at Jersey's hips first only to keep his balance as the world spun around him. But then he felt her hips. Truly felt them, the curve of them. And that was that. His fingers curled into the flesh of her thighs and he lifted her. Spun her, pushed her against the wall that he had previously been pinned against. He kissed her, ribs screaming at him as he used his torso to keep her pinned, but he didn't care. He gasped against her lips, but he kissed her regardless.


<Jersey> Part of her had been expecting him to yell at her, but she would have likely just pushed him against the wall and kissed him senseless as she'd been considering to do so since waking up. And then she felt his hands, her green eyes taking in his features for some sort of warning before she was picked up. She opened her mouth to tell him about his side which she had reinjured, but her legs wrapped around his hips and Jersey let out a small sound of surprise that was muffled from his kiss. There was a soft, 'I win' that entered her mind that immediately vanished as she curled her arms around his shoulders and kissed him fervently, feeling her temper and frustration with the man beginning to unravel slowly.


<Peter Parkman> There was no thought of winning or losing in Peter's mind. If one were to examine his thoughts closely in that moment that would hear, see no coherence. His fingers clawed at the hem of her shorts as if he wanted nothing more than to tear them from her, to reveal the flesh beneath. Fangs elongated as one hand remained secure on her hip, the other reaching up to roughly grasp her behind the neck; to guide her head into turning so that Peter might have access to her neck. Of course, he did not bite. But his teeth did graze the tender skin. He nipped and nuzzled, back arched a little to accommodate for his extra height as his hips pressed forward.


<Jersey> She turned her head obediently from his touch, biting down softly on her bottom lip as she reached up to pull her hair away from her skin and she shivered from his actions. His name came out in a small whimper, feeling desire flood through her with each nip while she tightened her legs around him as she felt his hips. Reaching down, she tugged at his cardigan and shirt the best that she could, untucking them as she adjusted just enough to do so with some difficulty.


<Peter Parkman> If Peter were thinking clearly, if all his separate parts were tucked away neatly in their boxes - if his head at all resembled the doghouse he'd slept in, during the day, he would have resisted. The breath of air against the skin of his torso would have acted like a slap and he'd have been reminded of his own vows. As it was, his mind was scattered and all the bottled passion came bursting free, like a cork without its wire. He didn't resist. Instead he helped, holding his arms aloft, using one hand to yank both shirt and cardigan over his head. His hair ruffled. His eyes burned. The gaze dropped to Jersey's chest - to the blouse she herself was wearing. Long fingers curled around the collar of the blue plaid button-up. And he yanked. Buttons tore and popped, bounced off the kitchen benches. Peter was too impatient for buttons.


<Jersey> Pushing the shirt and cardigan away, Jersey leaned down and kissed his neck while her hands went down to his chest, touching and admiring while she nipped playfully at his throat. When her hand found the bruise from where her sire had attacked him, she let her nails gently drag across the skin before she trailed her lips back to his mouth where she kissed him again. Pulling back at the feeling of his hand, Jersey pulled back to give a curious stare and confusion played across her features as she found it suddenly open and ruined. "I should have worn one of your shirts and paraded around the house in my underwear." She muttered lowly, but gave a soft and playful growl as she nipped his jaw before kissing him passionately.


<Peter Parkman> The pain continued to throb but it was thoroughly ignored. No, more than being ignored it was used as fuel. Every twitch and every hitch was like a knife or three, twisted in his side. But he didn't care. Only a mangled grown was offered in response to her words; nothing else seemed to exist bar the feel of her hips wrapped around him. Desire stirred, and his anatomy along with it. His lips were malleable against hers, his tongue sliding between her lips to probe - while his arm wrapped around behind her, pulling her close, fingers kneading into the flesh of her breast.


<Jersey> She whimpered softly, parting her lips when she felt his tongue before she slid one hand behind his head, her nails tracing against his scalp as she caressed her tongue against his. Pressing her hips forward, she reached down to unbuckle his pants only to pause. "Bedroom, Peter. Let's go to the bedroom." She sent the thought into his mind, not wanting to break the kiss.