"She's drunk, but, uh... Erm. Hey, you alright there, Jinny?" Dean asked as he moved closer, bending down, his knee making the bed dip, and gently cupped my face, forcing me to look at him.
My eyes met his and I smiled, my nose crinkling as my faced scrunched up in laughter and a tiny, snorted chortle flew past my lips.
"Wanna know a secret?" Reaching out to pat his cheek in what I thought was a loving gesture, I giggled as my eyes strayed towards Vincent's bum, watching as he went to bend over his bag.
"Eyes here, Jinny." Dean chuckled, using gentle pressure to keep my chin right where he wanted it, redirecting my gaze.
Grunting, I motioned for him to lean in, whispering loudly once he did, "Dean always thought I had a crush on him when we were younger." Lips turning down, I nodded, wriggling from his grip, a grim slash twisting my mouth.
"Oh, yeah, but you didn't?" Dean questioned, his megawatt smile kicking in, then up a notch, not giving himself away but enjoying my drunken stupor all the same.
"Nope," my new, loose-lipped alter ego admitted, making the word pop. "I always liked Vincent," I explained.
Dean’s eyebrows shot up in genuine surprise, but my lips were already flapping again.
"He was always so sweet to me.” My lips tipped up at the memory, before quickly drooping. “That is, until you gave him my letter." My eyes did a bit of drooping of their own too, at my admission, until my entire body felt like one giant lump of blah. Or maybe that was the room spinning and what were we talking about again? Tipping slowly to the side in the process, Dean’s hand on my shoulder to catch my fall the only thing holding me up, I sighed sadly, my shoulders slumping as I frowned despondently.
"What letter?" Vincent asked as he made his way to the bed, standing over me as they both eyed me in confusion.
Oh, hey, look! He’s here! “Hiya, Stuff-meister,” I greeted jovially, though the frown marring my face wouldn’t seem to go away. “When did you get here? Been waitin’ long?” Eyebrows are so weird, I thought suddenly. I have furry caterpillars wiggling across my face when they move. “Did you guys know that?” I asked aloud.
"Jin, what letter?" Dean chimed in, bringing things back into focus. He was good with stuff like that.
My caterpillars wiggled unhappily, kissing as my face scrunched up tight. "The one I asked you to give Stuffy when I was fourteen. Remember?" I trilled, my voice warbling as I stared at my blurry hands for a moment, hiccupped, surprised by the action, then looked back at Dean.
Dean’s look said he had absolutely no clue what I was on about.
"You said you gave it to him, remember, best friend? He's my very best friend," I told Vincent as I hugged Dean's arm, pulling him down to sit with me on the bed.
"You never gave me a letter," Vincent murmured quietly, frowning, confused, addressing both of us.
"Mmmm, hhhmmm," I mumbled as I released Dean's arm to flop back and cuddle Vincent’s pillow again. "It's the letter where I told you I had a crush on you, Stuffy buns, and then you started acting like I was from the bottom of your shoes." Feet kicking up, I lifted my foot to point at the bottom of my shoe, my words starting to slur. "I'm dizzssy," I garbled out as the room spun again, and again, and again, and then some. "Errrrhhhh, boy. Dean, itshooottt," I said slowly, trying to kick off my boots to get cooler.
Dean helped me out, but I noticed he looked quite upset by something. Maybe he was hot, too?
"Don't be shhhh… shh... ssss… sad, Deanie” hiccup, “meanie, wienie," I mumbled, moving my jaw around to try and get the words to come out right.
My idea resulted in the exact opposite of the desired effect I was going for. If anything, he looked even more upset.
"I for... for forflivvv... forgive you for everything!" I exclaimed, rolling to my side as the boat we were bobbing around on hit something, sending me gripping the blankets on the bed. “Anchor! Drop the anchor!” I shouted, about to tumble right over the edge. Dean yanked me back by my foot, pushing and pulling until I was in the middle of the bed.
“You need to sleep, Jinny,” Dean said softly, waiting to tuck a blanket over me, holding it up for me to see while I got myself settled into the middle for the night.
"Not even mad anymore that you were an ash... assss... ass to Stuffy and blamed it all on me. Who knows,” my shoulders lifted into a half shrug, “maybe it's better this way."
Dean’s eyes met mine then and he grimaced, clearing his throat as he dropped the blanket over at me, stealing a peek at his very red faced younger sibling.
"I don't even fancy myself in love with him anymore." Yawning until my jaw cracked, the smile I graced him with was small and rueful. "He hates me too much now anyway to get all beat up about it," I trailed off sleepily.
A funny, bear noise issuing from somewhere in the room, I closed my eyes and sighed. My body quickly went lax and I drifted off to sleep, my half-awake mind registering the disturbing, rumbling snore emitting from me as sleep overtook me.
˙˜˙˜˙
Porcelain Queen
˙˜˙˜˙
I woke up at some point a few hours later, hopping up, stumbling from the bed, to run to the bathroom, mentally giving myself the ol’ pat on the back for making it all the way to the toilet before I puked my brains out.
Retching violently, I kept it up, emptying all the contents of my stomach and then some until nothing was left and the dry heaves took over.
A cool washcloth bathed my neck and face and I sighed in relief when my heaving finally eased.
"Kill me now," I groaned as I tried to slump onto the tiled floor.
"Oh, no, you don't," Vincent muttered as he hauled me up, holding onto me with one arm while the other closed the lid to the toilet.
“Where’s the Deanie-baby?” I mumbled tiredly. “Why are you helping me? You hate me.”
Vincent said nothing. Directing me where he wished, he had me sit on the toilet and, instructing me to pull my arms up, which I dutifully did, though entirely with the program, he pulled my shirt off over my head, careful not to get anything on me I might not wish to take with me back to bed as he chucked it into the laundry.
"My mother is using me for grandchildren," I said on a sniffle, then tried to wipe my eyes on the backs of my hands.
Vincent chuckled, the sound pleasant and unexpected, then went about cleaning my face off with a fresh, cool rag.
A zipper sounded—my bag, I assumed— and soon he handed me my toothbrush and toothpaste, then, lifting me up, helping me walk with his assistance, guided me to the sink so I could give them gnarly chompers a good brushing.
"If you try to brush them and feel like you’re going to vomit again, let me know beforehand, alright?"
Lifting my toothbrush to my lips, I nodded and went about cleaning my teeth without incident, accepting his assistance back to bed as he helped hold my weight.
"You're strong," I noticed distractedly, eyeing his biceps appreciatively.
“Thank you.” He grinned as he sat me down, giving me a boyish smile that bordered on cocky as he stood up, satisfied I wouldn’t tumble over, and flexed his arms for me.
A stupid giggle in my throat, I smiled back for a minute, but then my lips fell and I felt disturbingly sad, realizing exactly who it was, specifically, I had helping me out right now.
"Why are you being so nice to me?" I asked as my sniffles started up again, "You don't even like me? Remember?"
"I never... I don't..." Scrubbing at his face, he sighed, then walking to the bedside lamp and turned off the lights. There was movement, sheets rustling, and then he was hopping into bed beside me, pulling the covers up over both of us.
"Why?" I asked into the quiet of the room.
"It doesn't matter," he replied quietly, surprising the stuffing out of me as he pulled me into his arms. Staring up at him in the dark, I gulped when his fingers drifted across my cheek and over my ear. Curling the stray strands behind my ear, he was brushing the hair away from my face.
"It does to me,"
I grumbled petulantly, wiggling closer still to lay against his chest.
His chest vibrated as he chuckled and he released me to pull back a little.
"Are you still drunk, Jinny?" I could make out him squinting down at me in the darkness, not much more than an outline of his features pinching, but that was it.
"Yes," I said without having to think about it.
"Will you remember any of this tomorrow, do you think?" His voice held a hint of something—what, I couldn’t tell, but I liked it.
"Uhm... No." My hair flying around my face with the action, I shook my head at him in the dark.
Swallowing audibly, the sound he made in his throat audible, loud in the deathly quiet that followed, and he leaned down and kissed me, right then and there, smacking one right on me, taking my lips hungrily. My hands slid up, smoothing up and down his back, and I moaned my appreciation, the sound growing louder, more urgent, as he rolled us over, positioning himself on top of me.
My fingers digging in, I clutched at him, moaning enthusiastically into his mouth as he kissed me like a starved man, his groans and moans of pleasure spurring me on. My hands slid down and I gripped his ass firmly with both hands, giving each rounded cheek a good squeeze.
His lips and tongue were blazing a trail of fire, nipping, biting kisses dotting my flesh, prickling my skin in their wake as that eager mouth ventured to my neck, then my collar bone, making its way down my body as I writhed underneath him.
"Wait... wait..." He stopped as suddenly as this had all began and shook himself. "I- we can’t. I have to wait," he told himself. Because he certainly couldn’t be directing that at me, could he?
"No, please!" I begged unashamedly as he pulled away, trying to grab at him desperately, but he easily slid from my grasp. Leaving me gaping at him in distress, he hopped up and off of the bed like his ass was on fire.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled quickly, turning to give me his back, the sounds of his breathing loud and harsh in the room while I sat there, surprised and a little stung.
"You... you don't want me?" I choked the question out as he quickly threw on a shirt and clean socks and started to head for the door.
Recoiling, I huddled down into the covers, shame washing over me. As the door to the room creaked open I couldn’t take it anymore and got up, running for the bathroom, tears streaming down my face. Dashing inside, I slammed the door, locking it behind me. Stifling the distressed sound crawling up my throat, I hiccupped, the sound escaping too loud despite my efforts, the noise echoing in the small space. Hiccupping again and again, between sharp cries, I shoved my hands over my mouth to muffle it.
"Jinny," Vincent called softly from the other side. "Open the door, Jinny."
I didn't answer, nor did I have any intention of opening that damned door, I ignored him, stripping, and hurriedly got into the shower, letting myself cry it out in the warmth of the water in the cold comfort of the bathroom.
•˜ • ˜• ˜•
An hour later, I cracked the door open, sighing in relief when I saw Vincent had left.
Popping back in, I changed my clothes for a clean set of pajamas and hopped into bed, falling fast asleep soon after my head hit the pillow. Visions filled me, dreaming of steamy liaisons with dark haired, green-eyed, grinning devils.
˙˜˙˜˙
Preserves me!
˙˜˙˜˙
"Jinny. Jinny Belle. Jinny, hun, you need to get up," Mom's voice crooned as I was rudely awakened from an awesome dream about a swashbuckling, dark haired pirate who wanted to ravish me.
No fair, man. Ugh. Moms spoil all the fun.
"Go away," I grumbled in her general vicinity, turning and pulling the blankets over my head, shielding my face from the sunlight she'd let stream in on my solitude.
"Jinny, honey, I need you to help me bring up some of the canned fruits and vegetables from the basement. Come on, Jinny, please," my mom pleaded.
"Ask Dad," I muttered, then winced as she tugged the blankets down, and in my efforts to yank them back I moved my head too fast, sharp, stabbing pains jabbing my skull. Hissing and groaning, I plopped back, moaning pitifully as my eyeballs and temples throbbed in time together.
"He's out chopping more firewood with the boys and Miriam's caught a terrible cold, the poor dear, she's in bed resting as we speak," Mom explained, her voice low, her tone that of let’s be reasonable.
"Fine. Fine. I'm up. I'm up," I mumbled grumpily, lurching my way to the bathroom to relieve myself and perform my morning ablutions.
That done, I dressed and sluggishly made my way down the hall to the kitchen, where I drank my breakfast quickly, popped two ibuprofen, then followed Mom down to the basement.
Once there, Mom paused in front of all the rows of canned foods, tsking in thought, and then turned so suddenly to grip me in a bear hug I yelped like I was a dog and she’d just crushed my tail.
"Oh, Jinny!" she cried. "I'm sorry! Your father chewed me out three ways to Sunday yesterday when I told him what I'd done! He thinks I'm selfish! Selfish, he said!" she exclaimed as she pulled away to see just who I agreed with.
When my furrowed brow shot up, her shoulders slumped, spotting the answer stamped clearly enough on my face, but then she was all smiles, which meant she’d decided to switch tactics. And down went my brow as she gave me huge puppy dog eyes.
"I do want you to be happy, honey. I do. I guess... I just got all caught up in what I wanted and didn't stop to consider anyone else's feelings on the matter.”
Both annoyed and confused, I gave her a narrowed eyed though nonplussed look.
“Specifically yours," she added hastily. Her hands were wringing by this point, twisting this way and that. "When William had shown up and said how he'd wanted to catch up, he'd seemed so genuinely interested in you. I'd thought, hallelujah! She's found a man!"
"I'll forgive you under one condition," I bargained, cutting any further comments and possible insults to my person off, hoping this would end any future mishaps like this, "you swear to leave my love life to me."
"But..." she tried.
"NO!" I barked out, my voice coming out much sharper than I’d intended, but I didn’t want to contradict the point I was trying to get across by turning right around and apologizing. She needed to know. This needed to be said. "You want forgiveness? Then you'll give me this," I snapped sharply, putting my foot down.
"Oh, alright," she grouched, snatching up an armful of canned goods in a pouty fashion, "you win."
Handing her load over to me, sighing heavily in disgust, she was already pepping back up to her old, bossy self. The woman was already distracted, nagging me about not dropping the glass jars, turning me around to frog march me back up the stairs and into the kitchen.
Wiping my hands off on my pants, I had just finished putting all the jars away when the men entered the kitchen, faces pink from the cold outside.
A grunt and huff had me turning to look up, my eyes widening at Dean’s damaged mug.
"Oh my god! Dean!" I exclaimed, rushing over to him to get a good look at the huge black eye he was sporting, "What the hell happened?!"
Dean laughed a little awkwardly and pulled his hat off. "Would you believe me if I said I fell?" he asked hopefully.
"Do I look like an idiot to you?" I frowned up at him, ignoring his hands swatting mine away to prod the area blossoming with color by his cheek gently
"Uh... hit the door facing?" he tried.
"Does the door facing have knuckles?” Though my lips pursed and my eyes narrowed, there was a hint of mischief and disbelief twinkling in my eyes. “Because you can clearly see the outline of someone's fist riiiggghhht here," I pointed out helpfully, pointing out the more than obvious knuckle marks gracing his face.
"Hey! I'm starved," my dad cut in. "Let's eat, huh?" he said loudly and very cheerfully, clapping his hands together.
"Jinny!" Mom called as she poked her head out from the cupboard. "Could you get me four more canned peaches, please?
I didn't realize I didn't have any more up here and I want to make cobbler for dessert."
"Sure." Dean’s messed up face in the back of my mind, I shrugged and headed down the basement stairs for those peaches.
˙˜˙˜˙
Sweet Peaches!
˙˜˙˜˙
"Peaches... Peaches... Where are ya, ya little bastards," I muttered as I tried, damned as it was, to tell which orangey jar of stuff I could barely make out in this light was which.
There were two unidentified, orange canned fruits right here, I finally narrowed it down to, holding one of each in my hands—at least, I thought they were both fruit—and only one of them is peaches.
What the hell is the other, then? A veggie? Squash, maybe?
"Jinny," Vincent's voice called from directly behind me.
Jumping as if I might pop out of my skin, I screamed and whirled around. Panting, the jars clutched tightly to my chest, I tried to catch my breath, sucking in huge gulps of air.
"What the hell, Stuffy?! You scared the shit outta me!" I yelled, setting the jars back on the shelf so I could clutch a hand to my aching head and another to my pounding chest.
"I didn't mean to startle you," he murmured huskily as he took a step towards me, then another, his face masked in the crappy, dim lighting of the basement.
Suddenly nervous, I backed up a little, matching him step for step until my back hit the shelf behind me, jostling all the canned goods lined up along it.
Jingle Belled and Mistletoed Page 5