--The following transcript was a live chat roleplay--OOC: Backdated to 25th October, 2015
<Jersey> Adjusting the gift bag in front of her, Jersey debated about removing the black, velvet rabbit ear headband that she’d been wearing in the Halloween spirit as each footstep brought her closer to the animal shelter. But, she decided against it as it would be too much of a hassle for the moment with the bobby pins holding the piece in place. Her hair was pulled back in a neat, damp French braid, although she suspected there was still a few splashes of dried paints of various colors lingering in the lower strands; her clothes consisting of a simple pair of blue jeans and heeled boots, although they only gave her an inch of height. A simple green tunic, to bring out the color of her eyes, had tied it all together after she'd put a simple gold chain on her hips.
The previous few nights had been just what she needed from Clover, friendship, distractions and laughter, but now she needed to do something for herself. Stop running or awkward turtling, or whatever the hell Nakia called it. Upon reaching the shelter, she felt a chill of nerves shoot down her spine as her fingers curled around the handle before she opened it and stepped inside. “You can do it, Jers.” She told herself encouragingly before stepping inside and looking around to see what had changed. In her pocket, she felt her phone vibrate only to be pointedly ignored as she called out, “Hello?” curiously.
Had she missed him?
<Peter Parkman> The nights blended one into the other. Time was consistent, fluent, and it never skipped a beat. Peter kept to its rhythm, each step, each second accounted for. Once upon a time his weeks had been split - certain nights he would be free to do what he wanted. Different nights designated to different things. Although that still applied to the washing, it didn’t apply to anything else.
Every night, he woke up. He fed the dogs. He showered. He dressed. He put the leads on the dogs, and he took them for their walk - he took them to the shelter, where he went at the end of each day to check to make sure everything was in order. He always closed when he got there, making sure to make sure all the animals were fed, all the stock re-ordered, all the pens clean. He didn’t lock the doors until he left. After sunset, it was rare that he had anyone visit. Many people didn’t know he was here, let alone that the shelter might be open.
As soon as he heard the voice, he knew who it was. So did the dogs - from all corners of the shelter there was the sound of scrabbling paws, even a bark or two. Lady, KD, Jack and Ellie, and Hunter - all of them recognised Jersey’s voice, and they rushed for it. Peter himself took a little longer to react. Straightening up, he backed out of the nearest room, securely closing the door behind him. He held a large bag of dog biscuits in his hands.
“Jersey,” he said, his voice deep and surprised. He frowned, canting his head to the side. “Why are you wearing ears?”
<Jersey> She briefly considered that perhaps he had stepped outside, or that he hadn’t heard her before the barks and scrabbling paws caused a smile to break out across her lips. Setting the bag on the counter as the five dogs came into view, Jersey knelt down and greeted them without hesitating. Her hands scratched behind ears, rubbed bellies and stroked backs. A laugh escaped as a tongue brushed across her face and she hugged KD in return. One of Jack’s paws went on her knee, Jersey pressing a kiss to the top of his head while she gave both him and Ellie attention, followed by doing the same to Lady and Hunter.
The flurry of tails around her made the woman grin, never getting over their reactions.
It was refreshing, calming.
She heard Peter’s footsteps and pressed a kiss to Ellie’s head before standing up, the same smile playing across her lips as she heard his voice. The question didn’t surprise her, as she had expected it from him at some point through the evening, but it hadn’t been the first she thought she’d hear. “I’ve been dressing up a bit for Halloween at work. I had a large cotton ball attached to my butt, earlier, too.” She had taken it off after the first ten comments, but it had looked nice. “Plus, I’ve been summoned lately by a friend for social activities so it never hurts to be prepared.”
Reaching up, she readjusted the headband in case one of the dogs had knocked it off center. A bobby pin had come undone and carefully, she slid it back in place before her hands lowered. She picked up the bag and held it out to him, “There’s something in there for you, and one of Lucas’ coworkers had given him a lot of baked goods, so I thought perhaps some of the humans on staff would like them?”
<Peter Parkman> Peter visibly shuddered at the idea of being randomly summoned, without warning, to attend social activities. The entire notion was enough to give him some kind of panic attack; he couldn’t even think about it without wanting to argue why it wasn’t a good idea. If he could somehow bar himself from being summoned anywhere, ever, by anyone, he would. Keara had done it one too many times - but not for a while. He hadn’t seen or spoken to Keara in a while. Maybe she had finally accepted that he wasn’t going to change.
As Jersey held out the bag, Peter nearly cringed. Something in there for him? Wasn’t this a conversation they’d had a lot of in the past? Peter didn’t like surprises. He didn’t like gifts given that weren’t on the specific designated days. He shook his head as he gestured for Jersey to come with him - he hadn’t finished feeding all the animals, and he was on a schedule. He didn’t take the bag yet - he was busy. But he could at least talk while he was working.
“We’ve talked about this,” he said, matter-of-factly. “Thank you for the cupcakes - I’ll leave a note on them in the kitchen,” he said. If it wasn’t a gift for him, then it didn’t matter. He hoped that he had heard wrong - that there was just the one thing in the bag. The cupcakes. That weren’t for him. “But you know I don’t like you buying me presents when I have nothing to give to you in return…” he said. “And for no reason…”
<Jersey> She saw him shudder and stepped forward, carefully avoiding any tails before she set her hand on his forearm and gave a soft squeeze. Afterwards, she stepped back to give him space and reached down to scratch behind dog ears and chins before looking up at him under her lashes. “We’ve talked about it,” She spoke in confirmation, before adding, “however, as I’ve told you before, I don’t care.” Jersey shared the same tone that he had before following after Peter as he had gestured.
Holding onto the bag, she gave a soft nod of her head, “Lucas said he didn’t mind taking them, but I was headed out this way anyway.” The blonde hummed briefly, her green eyes sweeping over the tall man’s form. “I think they’re chocolate and vanilla.” Her boots clicked on the tile as she followed after him, listening to him speaking and shaking her head. “I didn’t buy this for you.” Which, was the truth, she had bought the materials to create the gift, and then put her time and effort into creating the designs, “I made it.”
Jersey picked up her pace so that she’d fall into step beside Peter, looking up at him, “And you don’t have to give me anything in return. It’s a gift, Peter. Not a favor.” Gently, she elbowed him in the hip, “I also don’t see why you think I have to have a reason to give you anything. You a-were,” She corrected herself smoothy, “my boyfriend and you still are a very good friend of mine and someone I hold close to my heart. I can dote if I please, and so, I please.”
<Peter Parkman> Peter stopped, all of a sudden, not realising how close Jersey was; his body collided with hers, and he awkwardly held a hand out to steady her, clearing his throat. There was a thrumming in his chest that he hadn’t felt for a long while. It was a special kind of anxiety that only Jersey had really managed to inspire. There was something sweet about it; something thrilling, which he supposed was the reason why he had so often been able to bend a little for her. Though, she hadn’t asked it of him too much. She’d always been too willing to accommodate his strange whims. Which, he assumed, was the reason why she had left. It was too stifling for her. And he understood. It was stifling for him, too, but it wasn’t something that he could do without.
His life had changed, and he supposed Jersey had something to do with it. After she left he had told himself that he was okay. And he had moved in certain ways, but in other ways he had become stuck. Frozen. Jacey and Sean had been brought into the folds of Vedarian but they were not around much. Which was not their fault - they had a recluse for a sire, so why should they hang around? it was understandable, if they chose to live more exciting lives and discover more than what their sire had offered to them. Because he only left his apartment to come to the shelter. In reality, he had not moved on at all.
“I still feel like I should give you something,” he said. He knew that Jersey didn’t like it - that she wanted to give him something for the sake of giving it to him, but he didn’t like feeling like there was something outstanding - some kindness that he had not reciprocated in some way. His back was up against a door, and his hand groped for the handle; the door opened and he slipped inside; there was an instant meow - a high-pitched sound. A cat, just under a year old, black and white and hungry. He turned away from Jersey and bent down to pet the circling cat, and scoop some biscuits into her dish. “This is Quentin…” he said, glancing over his shoulder. It was almost a hint…
<Jersey> The hand that didn’t take his went to his bicep as she managed to not trip before she smiled and gave his arm a small squeeze, letting go afterwards. She took a step back, remembering what he had said about space previously. “Sorry about that.” Although, it wasn’t a secret that she enjoyed being near him. Despite his OCD and different lifestyle, Peter had always been a soothing presence for Jersey - although, and she admitted it easier, that he could get on her nerves at times. But, she didn’t suffer as much as some probably thought. The blonde looked down afterwards, studying the carefully wrapped gift sitting on top of the container of treats from Lucas.
“Don’t chicken out.” The words echoed through her mind and she gripped the bag handle lightly on her lap.
It wasn’t particularly Peter that she wanted to run from, but the situation, that she wasn’t entirely sure how to handle the fact she’d hurt him. And, she had promised him that she wouldn’t. Biting down on her bottom lip lightly, she listened to him and resisted the urge to sigh. “You shouldn’t feel that way. Really, Peter, I want you to have it.” From habit, she stepped forward while he was against the door, but the door opened and the distance fell away as he slipped into the room. She hadn’t been expecting the meow, however, as she followed after him and smiled at the cat with a chuckle escaping past her lips.
“She’s very pretty.” Jersey stated softly, although she caught the near hint as she stepped forward and set her hand on his shoulder gently.
<Peter Parkman> Peter opened his mouth to respond; to tell Jersey all about Quentin and why she was here. They always had sad stories, the animals that ended up in the shelter. But Peter knew every single one of them. He knew exactly how to tell them, too, to try to encourage people to adopt. Not that he dealt with many customers, himself. But there were the odd few. He encouraged his staff to know all the stories, too. Their goal was to find as many good homes for the animals as possible. Because if they didn’t, Peter would end up just taking them home with him.
The touch on his shoulder distracted him, however. Where the first word was uttered, it was garbled as it was barely formed by his tongue. His gaze which had settled adoringly upon Quentin - now purring impatiently in his grasp - drifted to Jersey’s arm, then up the length of it to her hand. It disarmed him in a way that he could not describe. It caught him off guard. It was not expected, the kind of intimacy they once had but which he thought was over.
Although he recalled Jersey’s sentiments from the last time they met - that she regretted leaving him - Peter still did not know what to do. He did not know what was expected of him. Just as he could not decipher what he was feeling when Jersey left, and it was Keara who had to point out to him that he was depressed, and grieving in his own strange way, he could not figure out what it was he was feeling now. Emotions were a foreign language to Peter - they always had been. They were flighty and uncontrollable, so most of the time he pretended like they didn’t exist. He had to lick his lips and remind himself what he’d been about to do.
“She… she was found beneath the tire of a car, hiding from the rain. The girl who brought her in was so upset, but she couldn’t keep her. The collar … the collar was so tight around her neck we had to cut it off. The clasp had rusted…” he said. Even as he said it, his fingers absently ruffled the fur at Quentin’s un-collared neck. The skin was still raw and healing. He swallowed, staring at Jersey. Somehow frozen in place.
<Jersey> She looked at the raw wound on the cat's neck and found a frown playing across her lips as she imagined what the poor thing had gone through until she heard Peter make a noise. Her emerald green eyes moved from the animal he was petting back to him, her eyebrow lifting softly at the garbled word before she smiled a bit and resisted the urge to chuckle. She gave his shoulder a repeated soft squeeze and then lightly set the bag down beside them, lowering herself to crouch afterwards before her hand reluctantly was moved from his shoulder.
Reaching up, she removed the headband and tucked it away in the bag for the time being as she watched Quentin with a smile lifting on her lips. “It’s so sweet how all every animal I’ve seen you come in contact with loves you.” Gently, Jersey reached out to allow the cat to sniff her fingers before she began to scratch the animal behind her ears. As she did, she felt Peter’s gaze and looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. She watched him lick his lips, remembering too easily how they had always felt on hers and scolded herself mentally to push the thought aside before looking down at the purring animal.
Mindful of the rawness of Quentin’s neck, Jersey scratched underneath her chin and then traveled along her fur to scratch a couple of inches away from Peter’s hand. Her fingertips occasionally and purposely brushing his before moving elsewhere. The frown returned as she heard him speak, listening to the cat's story before Jersey’s knee touched the ground. “What do you think, Quentin?” She asked softly as she trailed her hand softly to trace along the animals back, feeling her arch against her touch, “Would you like to be adopted tonight?” She thought about Bear and Mew, figuring neither animal would mind.
Her head inclined to Peter as she met his stare, a smile dancing across her lips, “That is if you don't think she'll get any takers, soon.” Her green eyes dropped from his to his lips, gently biting hers before she turned her attention back to the purring Quentin as she considered what to say next. “You know, I was wondering if you happened to know of any good fostering animal programs. Maybe I can stop by sometime, if so?”
<Peter Parkman> As soon as Jersey’s hand was removed, the moment passed. The odd, anxious discomfort abated and Peter reclaimed some of his confidence - if he could be said to have any confidence to begin with. If he had any confidence, it was probably due only to his ignorance. It could be claimed from the world around him; from the numbers and the logic.
He had no idea why animals seemed to like him so much. Maybe they were drawn to his oddities. Maybe they realised they were his cure, his calm. Maybe they knew he was alone, somehow, even when he wasn’t; they could sense it, and they strove to fill the spaces. Or maybe Peter was projecting those thoughts - a subconscious hope. Or maybe it was just some unexplained mystery; something that a few are born with. An animal affinity. He cleared his throat.
“She has been here two weeks. The animals that are wounded or recovering get looked over, sometimes. The cute ones are taken first,” he said, matter-of-fact. It was the way of life. Most people wanted cute animals. Animals they could love. The animals that looked like they had been loved less were always the last to go - if they went at all. He blinked at Jersey, then, and considered her question. He shook his head.
“You want to stop by if I do know of fostering programs? Or if I don’t? Do you think I should set one up?” he asked, confused by the question. Was it a question or a suggestion? “Do you want to foster?”
<Jersey> She didn’t understand how people could just give up or hurt their animals. Even if she stepped on a tail, Jersey immediately felt horrible and began to apologize profusely. Softly, she continued to pet Quentin as the cat purred loudly and she smiled softly. In the months she'd been away from Peter and back home, she had learned that she was very fond of cats even though she loved dogs and there was no preference. Her gaze drifted back to Peter as he cleared his throat again.
“Something in your throat, handsome?” She asked, curious.
Her green eyes went back to the cat as she listened, looking over the wound. It was healing nicely. “Sometimes the wounded ones are the ones that need the most love, people need to stop being superficial.” A sigh followed her words and she traced her fingertips along the cat’s spine before repeating the action. A giggle escaped her lips as the purring grew louder.
At his question, Jersey shrugged. “Well, admittedly I intend to stop by another night anyway.” An excuse would have just been easier, or at least given her a reason not to end up asking Clover to lock her out of her apartment so she wouldn't chicken out. “But I had been giving thought to the idea of fostering animals lately, yes. And was wondering if there had been one here, or if you knew of any and would prefer time to gather information on them for me so that I could pick them up later.”
Jersey thought about how often she'd always run into him randomly when she was human, and now, she had to coax herself to plan seeing him. It bothered her, but it wouldn't be when he expected it. He might hate surprises, but they amused her - mostly. “One way or another you’ll end up seeing me again, soon.” Her green eyes sparkled at that.
<Peter Parkman> Peter could only blink. It wasn’t the first time she’d called him handsome after their breakup, but it was a slip into familiarity, into a kind of normalcy that he didn’t realise he missed. Every time she touched him, every time she did something that she used to do, it gave him a glimpse through a tiny crack in the walls he’d very steadily built up around him; walls that he’d built without even realising what he was doing.
There was a lot in what she said. A lot that his brain had to compute. Not only a sentence which she had applied to animals but which he thought could apply to humans, too, but the promise of future unplanned drop-ins. That, as well as a further business venture that he himself had not yet thought of.
“I…” he paused. “We can set up a night. A particular time,” he said. Yes, a particular time would be best. One that he could plan for, and around. Shuffle his duties a little bit. Thinking about it reminded him that he had other animals to feed; he turned toward the door, but was unsure whether Jersey actually wanted to take Quentin or not. Unsure whether he should stay. This was what she did to him, wasn’t it? What she had always done.
“You can help me with it. If… you aren’t busy, that is. You could… organise it for me?” he said. She could contact the right people and organise the meetings that Peter himself was too structured to commit to. Jersey would be around more often, too, if she were to take up that part of the business; become something like a partner in this endeavour. It pleased Peter to think of it, but he didn’t realise what it was he was feeling. Mostly, the feeling was eclipsed by his anxiety to continue with the feeding.
<Jersey> A particular time. Jersey considered this as she continued to scratch behind the ears of the purring cat, smiling as her fingers were sniffed a few times before she was rubbed against. “Well, how about after your shower when you wake, I’ll stop by the apartment.” She looked away from Quentin up to Peter, still crouched down as she pet the animal, “And bring breakfast.” By now, it was done just to annoy him and she enjoyed it thoroughly before finally, she stood. The smirk on her lips was a clear indication.
“And, adoption papers will be needed for this one, before I leave here.”
Jersey gestured towards Quentin, who headed towards the biscuits to eat, deciding it’d be good to mention them before picking the bag back up. His offer for her to help, however, surprised her and a smile played across her lips. “I’d like that.” It would give her something to do when she wasn’t working, “And I’m not busy.” The blonde gave a shake of her head. Occasionally, she found herself being summoned by Clover at random, but she could always just give the woman a heads up beforehand.
She adjusted the bag in her hold as she wandered towards the man, “I’ve found a lot of time on my hands to the point I took up painting, like you suggested at one point.” As she said it, Jersey was reminded of the fact she was definitely not a good artist aside from when she threw darts at the canvas, but it was normally done out of frustration and to make a contained mess. “But first, why don’t I help you feed some of these animals?” She offered, “That way we can get it done faster and talk a bit, and so you can open your gift.”
<Peter Parkman> At first, when she said she would ‘bring breakfast’ Peter was confused. He imagined eggs and bacon. Or a bagel. Muesli in a take-away container, even. Though he realised she was probably talking about blood - still in a take-away container. It caused an internal twitch, but it wasn’t so much the mention of ‘breakfast’ as the time she had suggested. She was throwing too many things at him at once and he felt the urge to leave the room and close the door, leaving Jersey inside. Just for a little while. Just so he could gather his thoughts and respond when they were all in order.
Except Jersey wasn’t a thing or an animal that he could lock in the room. The rooms had no locks, and she was a thinking, logical person who could just open the door again and follow him, while he was trying to order his thoughts. Instead, he was forced to order them while she was watching, which resulted in him staring rather anxiously. At first he nodded as he led Jersey back out to the counter area; he grabbed the container with the dog biscuits in it, and handed it over. If she could feed the dogs while he fed the rest of the cats and changed the seed in the bird cages, then some time would be saved. But then, he had to shake his head.
“I wake up and I shower and I have my blood delivered,” he said. Blood. Not breakfast. There was no point being coy, or trying to deny what it was that they had to eat. “I then have to come here immediately to relieve the last person. I close up. Always. Every night, now, since…” he shuddered. The one employee who had closed up for Peter had been mauled and killed by a wild animal. Since then, Peter had done it himself. He shook his head to relieve himself of the imagery. It was almost as if he could still smell the blood. There’d been so much of it. And he’d been unable to save the boy.
“They finish at a particular time. I have to be here,” he said. Meaning he couldn’t linger at home. He backed away, heading toward the next cat enclosure - hoping that Jersey would head toward the side of the building that housed the dogs. Not because he wanted to be rid of her, but because he was wary of the time passing.
<Jersey> This was frustrating. Jersey wouldn't admit it, but as she listened to Peter actually say blood, it made her realize that she hadn’t been the only one to change a bit. He hadn’t corrected her as he normally would have and she wasn't sure what to say next. Her concern for the man opposite of her peaked when he shuddered, what had happened? Part of her didn’t want to ask.
She took the container without any difficulty, narrowing her eyes at him in thought. Of course, she understood. And, she knew she didn't like to push. However, there were two little voices in the back of her head telling her to not give in. One sounded very similar to Clover, who often suggested things that Jersey would deny without any hesitation. “Fine, I’ll just meet you at the start of the path and we can walk together to the shelter the day that's decided on.”
The words were simple and she moved over to the man, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his lips without thinking about it and sauntered away towards the other side of the building. It only was until her hand touched the doorknob that she realized what she had done and the blonde paused. At first, Jersey thought “oops” even if it wasn't intentional. It had been from habit, a way to distract him from the clear anxiety, but was it really an oops?
Jersey turned slightly to look at him over her shoulder. She parted her lips to speak, and closed them. She'd told him she had still loved him previously and she understood that they weren't together, that she had hurt him. Her heart allowed her to act more before she thought about it, and she needed to change that. She didn’t do logic the way that Peter did. She started to apologize, but knew that she wouldn’t mean it. “I-I should probably go feed the dogs.”
She willed her feet to move, but they didn’t get the message.
<Peter Parkman> That made Peter feel better. The fact she had said she would meet him on the day that’s decided on. It meant the meeting would be organised in advance; that it wouldn’t take him out of his schedule, and he wouldn’t have to shift things around. It wasn’t as if Jersey sounded happy about it, but there was nothing much that Peter could do. There was nothing his logical mind would allow him to do.
Except, then, Jersey didn’t head to her side of the shelter. Instead, she advanced upon him. She did so without hesitation, without any seeming plot. She moved like someone who knew what they were doing, so much so that they didn’t have to think about it.
Peter didn’t have time to react. The kiss caught him off guard, but reminded him what it was like to be kissed. It was something he had missed without realising it, until now. But he couldn’t explore the feeling. It was as fleeting as Jersey’s kiss, and it was banished as soon as she pulled away. She moved to the other side of the building and Peter remained where he was.He heard her say something about feeding the dogs and he just nodded; his tongue felt thick and unwieldy. He was staring at the space Jersey had previously occupied; it took him a few moments to actually look up, and see her watching him from the other side of the room.
“The uhm… the …” he huffed, and stopped. He shook his head. “Aaah … one, four, and six are big dogs. They get three cups. Two and seven are uhm… they get two, and … the rest just one,” he nodded, his words both rushed and stumbled over. Only then did he turn back toward the cats, disappearing into one of the enclosures to do what he had first set out to do. He worked by habit, knowing this routine by heart. The cats got what they needed, regardless of the fact that he was completely frazzled.
<Jersey> She was excited that he didn’t seem to tense at the kiss, but she bit her bottom lip and gave a nod of her head as she took notes mentally. The bigger dogs got three, medium dogs got two, and the rest one. It was simple enough. A small smile played across her lips, keeping to herself that she thought he was cute when frazzled, even if she was a bit nervous herself. Jersey still liked kissing him, she wondered if it would ever fade. Her green eyes watched as he went to where the cats were before heading to where the dogs were waiting.
It caused her to chuckle a bit at the sound of excited barking, the woman beginning to scoop three cups into the first dog's bowl. Her fingers scratched behind the animal's ears before she moved along. She counted each cup, doing as what would be needed as her hair fell over her shoulder in its braid. It was only then that she noticed the paint in her hair, and Jersey gave a soft shake of her head. She’d take it out later. As she worked, she began to consider the project that would be on her mind for a while.
“I think it’ll be perfect.” She spoke out loud to a small dog and straightened up afterwards. She ran her tongue over her teeth lightly, moving to the next. What was she going to do, though? It was clear that her heart was controlling her actions more than her head were. Would it be awkward? Clover told her to keep pushing forward and a sigh escaped past her lips as she knelt down to turn a bowl back over of the seventh dog before giving the animal their meal. Jersey considered what she'd say next, what she could say next.
Or what she would say, rather. After a few moments, as she reached the last few kennels, Jersey focused and reached out to Peter’s mind before speaking. Soft, mindful of the volume and the fact she didn't want to startle him. “That wasn’t… well, I guess I could say it was on purpose because I didn’t stop myself. It wasn’t planned.” She wet her lips, remembering the way that his had felt on hers even if brief.
<Peter Parkman> The cats had no idea about Peter’s plight. They offered no suggestions. He had no voices in his head bar his own - he could probably talk to Keara about things, but he wasn’t too aware of anything to be able to vocalise what may or may not be wrong. If there was anything wrong at all. He had not seen or heard from Keara in a while - he tried to distract himself with thoughts of his sire, and where she might be, and whether he should try to contact her. He did not doubt that she was around and that she would come to him if he asked - but he had no idea what he would ask.
Peter was also well aware that the spanner in the cogs, as far as he and Jersey were concerned, was him. She had told him she regretted leaving him. She continued to visit. She had kissed him - a small kiss, but a kiss nonetheless. It would be so easy to fall into habit, to go back to the way things were. But he was his own worst enemy. Logic was his own worst enemy. A selfless kind of logic that told him that Jersey must have forgotten what he was like to live with. And he was worse, now. Much, much worse - or so he surmised.
He’d gotten through the cats and was feeding the birds when Jersey spoke to him. He had cleaned out all of the dishes, removing all the old seeds, and was now preparing to replace them all with new seed. When he heard Jersey’s voice, at first he assumed she must be in the doorway; he turned to face her, surprised that he had not heard her coming. Unprepared, he knocked one of the cages and the bird inside started screeching - he’d woken it up. The screeching startled Peter, who dropped the seed; the container crashed to the floor and the seed spread like a wave, creating a larger mess than Peter had anticipated. The noise also woke the other birds, who all joined in the chorus. He imagined this was what they might sound like during the day, when they weren’t asleep.
It wasn’t exactly cacophonous, but there were enough of them for it to be far noisier than Peter thought he could handle. He pressed the heels of his palms against his ears and closed his eyes, standing stock still and silent as he waited for it to pass. His lips were pressed tightly together even though he wanted to shout at Jersey across the building.
<Jersey> When the dogs were fed, she checked to make sure each dog had clean water and that their kennels weren’t dirty before leaving. Jersey then returned the food from where Peter had brought it out. She hummed quietly to herself, picking up the gift bag from where she had left it before she debated on where to go. Should she wait for him? She scoffed the tip of her boot against the floor, peering down into the bag.
After a few minutes, she decided to continue on and traced his footsteps through the cat enclosure. A small smile fell across her lips and she lightly scratched at a spot inside of her elbow before slipping out. When she heard the ruckus, Jersey grimaced a bit. The sound wasn’t her favorite, but she carefully opened the door and blinked at the sight in front of her. She was surprised to see the bird seed on the floor and a frown played across her lips as her green eyes lifted from Peter’s feet, up to the man's features.
It hadn't crossed her mind that she might have startled him. Setting the bag down by the door, Jersey walked over to Peter as the birds began to quiet down. Moving around in buildings as a thief had made it easier for her to be stealthier, even if she did still have her clumsy moments. Her hand lifted, gently grasping one of his hands. “I’m sorry.” She apologized often and she knew it, so Jersey was mindful of her volume when she spoke out loud, her voice only for his ears, “Why don't you go find somewhere quiet? I can finish up in here. I didn’t mean to startle you, if I had.”
Jersey looked up at Peter, her fingertips softly tracing over the back of his hand. Concern played across her features. Had she pushed him over? Was he going to end up in a panic? The questions flooded through her mind as she fell quiet and simply waited.
<Peter Parkman> It wasn’t planned, she had said. Those words were the ones that echoed around his skull while his hands tried to dim the noise of the birds around him. He was as calm as he could be, standing there like an incompetent ***; it was the relative quiet that he needed to sort through the events of the night. And the night HAD been eventful, in comparison to any other. Nothing ever happened. He’d come to work and he’d feed the animals and he’d close up and he’d go home again. Every time he left he’d want to take every single one of them with him, but it wasn’t logistical. It wasn’t reasonable. They wouldn’t all fit in his apartment. They had all the comforts they required, here - even humans hired as volunteers during the day to play with them, to cuddle them, to make them all feel loved.
But he wasn’t think about that now. He was thinking about Jersey’s words. It wasn’t planned. He’d wanted to shout at her first to get her attention - mainly to ask her why she had to talk to him like that. How many times had he told her he couldn’t respond? It was only that which bothered him, mainly. The fact that he could not respond. When she entered the room and apologised, and suggested cleaning up the mess he made, he just shook his head. He could hear her just fine, even though the heels of his palms as they pressed tight against his ears. When he felt her fingers against his hand, the soothing touch, he shivered. It wasn’t altogether a bad shiver. But he still didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t want to look at her as he asked his question - the one that now seemed more important than asking her why she chose to speak into his head to begin with.
“Does that mean you take it back?” he asked. “Because you didn’t plan it. Was that an apology? Was it a mistake?” he asked. It confused him. He wasn’t sure what was happening. He wasn’t sure why Jersey would do things that she didn’t plan. How could she not plan things? How could she live like that? Peter had to remind himself that not everyone was like him. Not everyone had to have everything planned. Other people liked to do things on a whim.
He finally opened his eyes and loosened his hands against his ears. His eyes were wide and questioning. “What are you doing?” he asked. What did she plan - or not plan - to do now? That’s all he needed to know.
<Jersey> She ran her tongue over her teeth as she listened to the birds calming, her fingers continued to trace over his skin. It bothered her often that they weren't the way they used to, that the intimacy had left because she hadn’t listened to what she felt was right. Even if Peter’s OCD got on her nerves, it had never been bad enough for her to leave him. It frustrated her, but she did things that had frustrated him - she was sure of it. His question caught her off guard and for a moment, the blonde was confused.
Did she take it back? She understood just after.
“No.” The words left her lips without having to think about it. She never wanted to take back any kiss she'd given him. Her hand fell to rest over the curve of his jaw, her thumb staying put as she lifted her gaze to his features. “I enjoy kissing you, I miss it. I miss us too much to ever want to take it back.” She admitted, shifting her weight. Her thumb moved along his jaw down to his chin, a smile playing across her lips as she watched his eyes open. “Even unplanned, I couldn’t call it a mistake.” And she knew she couldn’t, because she didn't regret it.
Her lips twitched in amusement. Wasn’t that the question of the minute? What was she going to do? Jersey shrugged. She looked down, at the bird seed before lifting her gaze to his. His question echoed through her mind and she slid her thumb up to trace over his bottom lip as her gaze dropped briefly before returning to his gaze. “I’d like,” Jersey paused and gave a sheepish smile, “to kiss you again. And then eventually get this seed cleaned up before asking you if we could give us another try.” It was out and she felt better saying it.
And after she had, Jersey leaned up and pressed another kiss to his lips, but she let it linger for a few moments before she pulled back without running away.
<Peter Parkman> The question had been broad. What are you doing? he had asked. Why was she here? Was it all due to some subconscious need? That was the kind of thing that Peter was not accustomed to. He didn’t act on subconscious needs. What he needed was formality and stability in numbers. He wanted to be organised, and he wanted to know what was going to come next.
And he wasn’t disappointed. There were no more surprises. Jersey answered his questions without hesitation, and with honesty. And she told him what she wanted - and gave him no choice but to follow through.
When she kissed him, at the exact moment that her lips connected with his, he knew it was what he had been hoping for. Although the realisation flooded him with fear and doubt, there was also that familiar excitement. His hand dropped to take Jersey’s, his fingers twining with hers. When she pulled away, Peter didn’t say anything. Whatever words may have been stuck in his throat were swallowed as he merely nodded.
When she kissed him, it was like the seed didn’t exist. The twittering of the birds became an ordinary background noise rather than something to be concerned with. Time slipped away, and it didn’t matter. Peter pulled his lower lip into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the surface before he leaned down for another kiss. Yes, he realised. This one was long enough for him to discern - yes, he had missed kissing Jersey. It was obvious. And he wanted to do it again. Not hasty or fleeting or like habit - but like they used to, when relaxing at home on the couch. He was such a different person, then.
