Good To You [Peter Parkman]

[Jersey]

(Outfit without gloves)

It was a pain, she realized after finished putting on her make up, not having a reflection. She had resorted to taking a picture every now and then to make sure that things had been even before tucking her things back away. Everything had been out back in placed and wiped down as they had been. Jersey took a deep breath, taking in the scent of her sweet scented body spray that he liked and then slipped out of the bathroom.

Her hair fell over her shoulder with loose waves framing her face and she brushed it back, wandering into the bedroom to collect the pair of high heels that would match her dress. The sound of padded footsteps made her smile, a soft laugh escaping past her lips when she was greeted by Lady and KC before following them out into the main part of the cabin. "Now where," The blonde asked as she set her shoes down for a few moments, mindful of claws and the lace on her dress, and began petting the six dogs, "is that man of mine." She asked, although she didn't need an answer.

A date. It was a little strange, she knew that they were finally going on one now that things had settled. Their first one as a couple, although they were already well into their relationship, and Jersey didn't mind it, really. They never had been traditional to begin with. Regardless, however, of the day or the amount of dates the two had gone one, or what it consisted of... Jersey was just happy to be spending her time with him. Especially after she'd had some time to think by herself.

Fiddling with the relic resting around her neck, Jersey straightened up before walking to the water bowls to replace dirty with clean and looked around the cabin anxiously, keeping a bit busy now that she was ready. "You've been with the man how long now, Jersey?" She scolded herself inwardly as she began to quietly sing to herself.

[Peter Parkman]

Peter hadn’t forgotten.

A ‘date’. He had proposed the event months ago. Or was it a joint decision? He recalled something about dancing – he’d said he would take Jersey out dancing. A lot had happened since then. Their lives had been a bit hectic – mainly his fault, of course. But the ‘date’ had never come to pass. Peter was happy with their life the way it was and maybe, deep down, he’d hoped it would be forgotten.

Although his OCD wasn’t as bad as it had been, he knew that the condition still existed within him. All it needed was a shove, a crack in the hull, for it to spill over and ruin everything again. The man felt like a bomb set to explode. That was how he had explained himself to Jersey, once, and he had warned her, several times, of what might happen. The warnings hadn’t gone unjustified. And, because of the incidents of the past, these days he was careful to do nothing out of the ordinary. He didn’t stick to his routine so much because he felt he needed to satisfy some itch within himself (though that would always exist, even if just out of habit) but more because he didn’t want to ever lose control ever again.

So his life resumed a rather dull pace; he would drink his blood and he would get dressed. He would feed the dogs (if Jersey didn’t beat him to it) and he would start his night at the animal shelter. He would visit the shelter at least once a day, to make sure everything was running smoothly. The journal and the book restorations were more flexible, and he could do both jobs from home – either the cabin, or the Asylum. The treatment room that he’d bought from Keara had been turned into an office, of sorts – there was a table over which he would bend to assess damage done to rare books, and to fix and re-bind them with absolute care. Shelves lined the walls.

The ‘date’ had been organised for tonight, however, so rather than return to the Asylum to continue his work on the journal or to repair some of the commissions he’d been given, he instead returned to the cabin. He’d already dressed for the date – he was always efficient with his time and rather than create more washing, it was better to remain in just the one outfit. It had raised some comments at the shelter – he’d awkwardly responded to all of them, telling them all that it was date night.

Peter had it all planned, however, so that he would not be overwhelmed. This would not be just a spontaneous night. Nothing was ever very spontaneous, if Peter could help it. There would be no lingering. He didn’t even come fully into the cabin – he waited by the front door.

”We have twenty minutes,” he said. ”I told them seven o’clock,” he explained. Only then did he look up and see Jersey properly. He paused, and sucked in a breath.

”You look beautiful,” he said with a crooked smile.

[Wearing]

[Jersey]

Earlier in the week, she'd taken his suggestion to find a pretty dress for their date. Jersey wasn't much of a shopper. She'd tried on a few, of different colors and lengths: one had been purple and velvet, but she hadn't liked the way it fit, and another was crème, and she had enjoyed it, but the idea of slipping was too high of a possibility After six attempts, she had been tempted to call and beg her sister to come out with her - and avoid asking for help until she was there in person - when she found the black lace and nude dress that fell to her knees that she drew into her waist with a thin, black belt.

It had been exactly what she'd been looking for.

For Jersey, despite the fact she'd known that months had passed, things felt new. Part of it, she knew it was because she didn't remember anything past her bus accident other than her name, but it made her cherish what she knew. With negatives, there were always positives that balanced them out.

One of the positives she'd learned to accept with the negativity of her memory loss was that she was able to re-experience things. She'd lost her biological family and gained Vedarian. A first kiss, a first date. If she verbalized it, she knew she'd be embarrassed, but that was how she thought. Love was her favorite because despite the hurt and the stress from the past few months, Jersey was still with Peter. The good always balanced out the good, she found. And she appreciated it.

One of the positives she'd found when dating a man with OCD was that Peter always seemed to be punctual. She knew when it was in full swing, the woman could tell what time it was before opening her eyes to glare at the clock by his weight leaving her side to get ready for work. She also knew when he'd be home, when it was time to take the dogs for their walk, etc. In truth, after the incident with their family members and his recovery, Jersey found herself watching him every now and then to see if he'd be able to step out of his routine when he wanted to.

One shoe was on. The door had opened and she slipped her foot into her heel, using the back of the couch to avoid falling over and she heard him talking. Twenty minutes was enough time to get there, she was sure and she nodded before setting her foot down. "Alright love." Wiggling it in the heel for a moment, she lifted her head to look at the man and her lips parted to greet him before she fell quiet instead. She didn't know why seeing Peter dressed in a suit caused her to lose her train of thought the way it did, as he was always a nice dresser, but it happened.

His words would have brought a blush to her face and she smiled in return, putting on her second heel, collecting her coat as she walked to him. "Thank you, Peter. You look very handsome." The woman leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips. "And I really like this color on you."

The woman brushed her fingertips against his sleeve before shrugging on her jacket, looking up at him after. "Ready to go?" She checked to see that her wallet and keys were in the pockets where she left them.

[Peter Parkman]

Jersey was taller with the heels on, so she was better able to lean up to kiss Peter. Recently, he’d asked her why she was constantly kissing him on the jaw, and she’d told him it was because she couldn’t reach. After that, he’d told her that she ought to tap him in the shoulder and he’d lean down. These days, it was just a habit to lean down to receive the kiss he knew was coming.

At least tonight he’d managed not to get too much dog hair on his suit – and even though his own dogs swirled around their feet in a bid to greet him, he had to reluctantly stay standing, rather than drop down to their level like he usually did when he came home. There was nothing more pleasant, he thought, than being inundated by warm furry bodies; to be welcomed to thoroughly and with so much love and excitement. He liked to bury his face in their necks to say hello – to give them back the love they so selflessly gave him. But not tonight.

Tonight, he’d even dabbed some aftershave against all the pressure points; there was a light oil in his hair to keep it back and out of his face. Every now and again there was the urge to cut it, to make it neat and controllable, but he didn’t. It was one of the things that kept him grounded. He’d realised – he needed for there to consistently be a few things out of place and unruly; he needed to deal with that kind of irritation on a nightly basis so that he wasn’t entirely caught off guard when something bigger came his way. So his hair stayed long. Longer, anyway, than what he was accustomed to.

”Of course I’m ready to go,” he said. Maybe it was a rhetorical question, but always literal, Peter had to blink down at Jersey as his arm wrapped around her waist. He wouldn’t have only lingered by the door to wait, if he weren’t ready to go. He smiled down at Jersey and pressed a kiss to her temple, before ushering her out the door.

”There’s a car waiting for us by the road,” he said, gesturing to the path that would lead toward the main road that led out of Harper Rock. Thought, of course, they were heading into the city, not out of it. ”Better than walking and risking slips,” he said. He knew exactly how clumsy Jersey could be.

[Jersey]

Inclining her head lightly as she took in the man’s features, Jersey’s green eyes took in each detail from the oil in his hair to the stubble on his jaw. She remembered seeing him for the first time and wondering how he’d appeared so warm, surrounded by the five dogs that would later capture her heart just as quickly as the man standing not too far away. One of the things that she liked best about him, aside from his eyes, was his height. Why? She couldn’t tell if she was asked and while she stepped close to her lover, Jersey wasn’t quite sure if she liked the heels on her feet any more. Not that she’d ask him to wait while went to find a pair of flats.

Glad that she’d chosen a lipstain that wouldn’t transfer color to him, the blonde smiled against the kiss when he leaned down before pecking his lips once more with hers. Jersey tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear despite knowing it would fall back into place later, watching the dogs and mindfully lifting the hem of her skirt as she felt a slight tug from paws. A tail brushed her bare legs and she reached down to scratch behind Lady’s ears. “We’ll be back home later, kids.” Dog hair was part of life, as was occasional paw prints on her white jeans, and it showed that she didn’t mind it as she brushed some off of Peter’s jacket.

She could smell his aftershave, the scent just as comforting to her as the man himself after she’d had a long day at work or an argument with her sisters. Her body settled into his at the feeling of his arm against her waist, her own arm moving to wrap around the man’s hips before she smiled up at him. “I’m glad, this’ll be nice.” A chuckle escaped past her lips and she nodded, though she figured it didn’t hurt to ask. With each step taken, a soft click came from her heels and the blonde followed him without any hesitance as her fingertips danced against the cloth of his jacket.

The expression on her face at the mention of slips was comical as her nose crinkled, showing that yes, slips were indeed possible if they walked. She didn’t know how it was possible for a vampire to be clumsy, but alas, there she was and she had for the most part, accepted it. Earlier on in the day, she’d not been paying attention and stumbled over a dog toy in the yard before giving it a light punt in frustration, causing the hoard of six to chase after it excitedly. “Good idea. I think it’d probably be a good idea not to fall today.”

[Peter Parkman]

”Tonight,” Peter corrected. He didn’t do it to tease. There wasn’t even a smile on his face when he did it. Corrections were purely habit, and sometimes he wondered how he didn’t get punched in the face more often. But he couldn’t rightly call the current time today because it was not day. The sun was not in the sky. The moon was – a moon that could not be seen due to the constant lingering clouds, which trapped in the cold and the briskness like the city had been turned into its own personal ice-box.

The dogs were not happy to have been left behind. The fence was rather tall (if it were a small fence, Hunter would be able to just walk over it like it were a mere stepping stone). Behind it, the dogs gathered, following the walking couple until they couldn’t follow anymore. There were a couple of whines, but they quieted down before long; Jersey and Peter were swallowed by the damp, cold dark of the wilderness, and Peter picked up the pace. Jersey would understand completely why he chose to walk fast; the path was far more treacherous than it should have been. Aware that his companion wasn’t exactly too graceful at the best of times, and that she was currently wearing heels, his grip around her waist was tight, his fingers pressing into her hip so, should she fall, she would not get very far.

And, as he thought about it, Peter laughed.

”We’re going dancing,” he said, to clarify. He wasn’t giving anything away; dancing was always on the cards. The whole concept for this date was formulated months ago, when they’d agreed to go dancing. Jersey just didn’t know where they were going, and what it would entail. But it was ironic. Peter glanced down at Jersey’s feet, even though he didn’t have to in order to know she was wearing heels. She was taller – he could feel it, as she walked beside him. Could sense it. The Shadow knew the exact dimensions of his girlfriend’s height in comparison to his own, so it wasn’t a surprise that he should notice when it changed.

”Maybe I’ll have to hold you up the entire time,” he said. And now he did smile. Because this time he was teasing – and was doing so with a specific kind of glee.

[Jersey]

“Actually,” Jersey chimed as she looked up at Peter, “My use of it is correct, and I looked to be sure. Today means on or in the course of this present day; it’s a synonym to this evening.” She’d gotten used to the corrections and she didn’t mind it, really. Peter was Peter and she loved him even with all of his habits, irritating as some of them were. She knew he wasn’t doing it to be a dick or to make her seem stupid, so all in all, none of it really bothered her.

She could hear the dogs whining and frowned, feeling slightly bad until they went quiet. Maybe, she thought as tey walked, she’d suggest they get something for each of them before returning home. Her lips pecked against his shoulder the moment she felt his hold on her, his fingers. The woman appreciated his action and fell into stride easily, slipping and catching herself thanks to Peter’s grasp. She couldn’t blame him in the least for moving quickly, as he’d been attacked by the fae multiple times over the course of a year. While Jersey on the other hand only had an issue with the sun, which had since become remedied because of her tome from Kallista or Peter summoning her in case she’d been resting elsewhere.

She liked his laugh, the sound itself making her smile.

“Somewhere you won’t look like a spastic iguana dancing?” She recalled things easily and the blonde enjoyed it at times, such as these. She remembered the conversation they had and that he said he thought she’d probably look like a wood nymph. The heels weren’t too tall, if she didn’t have to deal with ice, she would be fine for the most part. She didn’t trip at work in them, at least. In some ways, Jersey felt that Peter was a distraction on his own and because of it she just fell more – it wasn’t true, of course, but oh well. It just gave her reason to curl up beside the handsome man more often in the winter as they walked.

The blonde huffed, although she knew that he was probably right. “If there weren’t ice on the ground, I wouldn’t be half as clumsy.” It was a lie and she knew it, but she held herself up taller and tried to look prideful, rather than the embarrassed. “But, at least I know if I needed you to, you would, and you would enjoy it.” She chuckled, squeezing Peter’s arm affectionately as she looked up at the man with a smile playing across her lips.

[Peter Parkman]

”Regardless of what the dictionary says, the dictionary can be archaic. You have to take into account common usage of words – there’s day time, and there’s night time. In the modern era…well, you would never ask a person How are you tonight? at midday, would you? They’re not interchangeable,” Peter argued. Regardless of how pointless the argument, he was very good at arguing. Very good at never giving up, even though it would make life easier if he did.

Peter’s smile was wry, lopsided. Of course he wouldn’t take her dancing on ice – unless he were going to take her to a skating rink. But that wasn’t about to happen. No, because he knew that he wouldn’t do any good on one, either. He even doubted his ability to dance without ice. They were in synch, at least, with the ‘no ice’ rule.

He’d checked on the location earlier in the night. It had been set up to his specifications – a small park, with a tent erected in case of snow, and fake grass laid down underneath. The plastic stuff, of a slightly better quality than the stuff found at mini golf. Bright white fairy lights had been set up in the bones of the tent – hundreds of them, to create a dim blanket of light.

There’d be a man with a violin – a busker Peter had found on the street who he’d hired for the night. A young man, maybe eighteen or nineteen, trying to save money for music school. A clean-cut young man with clear blue eyes and sun-kissed skin, with a large mouth and an easy smile. The hair on his head was dark and curly, and in dire need of a cut. But it suited him. He’d been more than happy to play for the couple. He’d gushed about how romantic it was. Peter had mumbled and bowed his head and given the address and the time; the young man had promised he would be there.

Peter was thinking, hoping that there was nothing that he had missed; his brows were furrowed, when he hurt the rustling sound of something in the bushes behind them, just as a clump of snow fell from the branches of a tree right beside them. He almost skipped, almost ran that last couple hundred meters down the path to where the car was waiting – the headlights on and the red break lights blurred in the coldness, in the fog billowing from the exhaust as heat hit cold air.

”I would. You could stand on my feet and I’ll lead. That’s how they do it in the movies, isn’t it?” he asked with that same lopsided smile, releasing his hold on Jersey’s waist only so that he could open the back door of the car for her.

[Jersey]

She punched him gently in the shoulder, intentionally putting no force behind it, a small still on her lips to show that it was meant to be playful and good natured. "While I'm sure I wouldn't say it, there's likely someone somewhere in the world that would. Although, even if I did, I wouldn't use 'tonight' but 'this evening' rather when it's past seven o'clock." Jersey knew that she'd probably never win an argument against Peter, even when its a minor one and was about something stupid as this, and she didn't care. As they walked, her head went to his shoulder over the spot she'd punched and she squeezed his hand. Putting it simply, she just liked hearing his voice.

"So," The blonde asked curiously, "did you ever find a club that wasn't going to cause you to twitch all evening because of the music choice?" She looked up at Peter under her lashes, thinking about all the venues that she'd checked only to eventually give up in frustration one evening. It had been a day when her emotions had been running higher, but nonetheless, she hadn't looked further past those. She studied his lopsided smile, chuckling while she hummed to herself a soft melody that'd came back to her not too long ago.

The humming stopped when she heard the rustling and her hand softly squeezed Peter's in what she hoped was a soothing manner. She wanted to tell him that it was just the wind, but she doubted it - the Fae seemed to like beating the man up a little too much for that. Still, she couldn't help the soft, reassuring tone in which she spoke, "It was probably a mountain lion or a bear, baby." That escaped past her lips, "I saw some tracks earlier when I was coming home." Which had been true, there'd been a few wolf tracks as well.

Even so, she picked up her pace slightly for his sake. She'd never been bothered by the Fae, as human or vampire, but she'd seen enough of the damage he'd taken to know they were there and angry. As they reached the car, she looked up at Peter when he spoke and smiled. "I think so, yes." Leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, she smoothed her skirt to her thighs after so that she could slip easily into the car. "Thank you."

[Peter Parkman]

Peter had a lot of money.

As much as he liked numbers, he didn’t quite know what to do with it all. He didn’t sit there in his office and count every single cent once a week; he watched his accounts online as they slowly began to build into something unmanageable. He’d bought an apartment for Whitaker to use, but the boy had paid Peter back. With interest. Suffice to say, Peter hadn’t needed the money – but Whitaker seemed as if he’d be insulted if Peter insisted he take all his money back.

He’d tried to spoil Jersey with relics, but they were all relics that she already needed.

Peter was running out of viable ways in which he could use his money to help those he cared about – though the germ of an idea settled into his subconscious, there and then. He was thinking about the car, and about how the driver wouldn’t ask any questions. The driver was paid well to just do as he was told. And anyway, he didn’t see anything odd in this situation. It was a romantic gesture – a boyfriend for his girlfriend. Or a husband for his wife. He ran these kinds of errands all of the time.

Peter closed the door behind Jersey, before walking around to the other side of the car to slip into the opposite seat. As soon as the door was closed, he put on his seatbelt and gestured for Jersey to do the same – only after that did he reach for Jersey’s hand, to clasp it in the middle.

Peter nodded at the driver, and the car peeled away from the curb, headed toward the city; they would cross no rivers, and no bridges. They would remain on this side of the city, heading North.

”No clubs,” Peter said, finally answering Jersey’s question. Of course she was going to be curious about their destination for the night, and Peter felt he could now start dropping the clues. ”I have enough money to pay for my own music. For however long I want,” he said, turning to smile at Jersey. The entire evening had been planned to within an inch of its life; now that they were out of the wilderness, Peter relaxed. He knew exactly what was going to happen, how it was going to happen, and when. He had nothing to be stressed about.