I don't own it and all that jazz.

And So It Is

The first time he asks her to "hang out or something" it's mainly because the thought of another night watching Ox stick his tongue down Kim's throat makes him feel kind of annoyingly itchy all over, and, you know; there's only so much of being a third wheel that a person can take and he's definitely reached that pinnacle.

He figures Jackie must feel the same way, what with the pair of them either being at one place or the other - and hey, wouldn't it be far more fun to do something else together instead of watching the increasing effort of Ox's fingers try to make their way further and further up Kim's shirt?

She says yes to him of course, this shy nod of the head that makes a couple of strands of hair fall into the line of her eyes, slim and pale fingers moving to shake them back into place. There's a smile hiding behind the fall of her hand though, sharp eyes turning even sharper as she turns to face him and says, "So you've grown sick of watching the love fest too then?"

Harvar grins then, his teeth feeling almost too big for his mouth as he sighs at her dramatically and rolls his eyes, shrugging his shoulders as if to say what can you do.

Jackie comes over at eight because they always wait to see which one of them will be lucky enough to get their apartment free for the night. Her hands full of Chinese takeout, the smell wafting through to Harvar and practically making him drool at the mouth.

He has plates at the ready because Jackie likes everything to look like they made the effort, even if they didn't, and he finds he doesn't mind the washing up afterwards because she makes less than half the mess Ox does, and actually helps with the cleaning.

"New record," she says, "about ten seconds before their tongues were attached to each other this time," toeing off her shoes with a satisfied sigh as she moves to join him on the sofa.

"That's nothing," he replies, hands swooping out the contents of the bag and dishing out noodles and rice and god, she got him steak and black bean sauce, his absolute favourite. He stuffs a spoonful in his mouth and feels it melt against his taste buds. "Didn't I tell you about that time last week when they didn't even make it in the door before they were pawing at each other manically?"

Jackie snorts, a hand coming up as if to try and crush the sound coming out of her mouth. A smear of sauce hovering over her lip that Harvar doesn't even think twice about before his right hand is moving up to brush it away with a light touch of his fingers.

She swipes the peas from his plate because he hates them almost as much as she hates onions; the thickest pile of which sit on the edge of his dish after she carefully picks them out – and yeah, he kind of adores them.

He's shopping a couple of months down the line, browsing the shampoo and conditioner section when he comes across the kind that he knows Jackie favours, the one that she was telling him just last night she was running low on.

It seems the easiest thing to do, grabbing both shampoo and conditioner of the brand and tucking it in along with the rest of his bits and pieces. After all, there's already a stick of deodorant, a hair brush and even a set of tops that have migrated over to his place and found a home there, and yeah; maybe he's got a similar stash of belongings over at Jackie and Kim's.

The first time she fell asleep on the sofa, head falling inch by inch until it was flat out against the arm rest and he hadn't had the heart to shove at her arm or pinch her and wake her up just to kick her out again. Besides, Ox always kept a couple of blankets up against the back of the sofa and she already had one twisted around her legs, the second of which he draped across the rest of her; quietly tip-toeing out of the room and leaving her to her sleep.

Routine became that when it got late they crashed on each other's sofas. Somewhere along the way a collection of their belongings drifting over to each other's apartments. A thousand times simpler to get ready in the morning, grab a quick piece of toast and out the door for class when you had all your belongings; rather than the complicated and rushed job of waking up, wiping the drool from your mouth and blearily pushing your way out the door, back home again to get ready.

Much simpler indeed.

Weapons practice is gruelling today and Sid clearly had a bad night because he has a bitch of a temper on him and it's fit to kill someone if he doesn't give them a break in a minute or two, and Harvar's pretty sure you can bet on it being him. His muscles are killing him, shaking like he's got tiny tremors kicking off in his kneecaps and spreading through the rest of his body.

The only one who's still going is Black Star, jogging from step to step and pumping his fists out like he's trying to defeat the very air in front of him. As far as Harvar is concerned both Sid and Black Star can go at it until one or both of them collapses, what with neither of them being normal, and he'd be quite happy just to sit back and watch from the sidelines.

Jackie sidles up to him, hair up in a tight ponytail and brushing the tops of her shoulders, a towel in hand as she grips her hands to her knees and tries to get her breath back. She stands up after a second or two, bright flash of a grin as she throws him her towel and tells him to "use it."

Harvar complies, wiping the sweat off his neck and forehead and feeling ten times better for it. The towel's just your average school one, a little rough around the edges from being washed so many times and fading to a lighter blue than its once time navy, but it smells like Jackie, like the soap that he has curled up right next to his own back home in his apartment.

He holds the towel fisted in his left hand, watching as Jackie straightens and bends, cracking the bones in her body. Watching as a drop of sweat makes its way down past the line of her neck and over the bump of her collarbone, resting for a second above the ridge of her top before the fabric completely consumes it.

"Thanks," he says, handing the towel back with a smile that he thinks might hold all of his secrets. His throat dry and rasping from the work out, his knees still barely keeping him up and still shaking.

It happens like this:

Jackie is stood in front of her mirror, brushing out the long strands of her hair and cursing at every knot that she encounters; fingers slamming down the brush as she works through the dark strands to try and untangle them without pulling out any pieces.

Harvar woke up about twenty minutes ago, curled up on her sofa, feet bare from shoes and a thick knitted blanket (present from her parents as she couldn't put two pieces of wool together if her life depended on it) wrapped tight around him and keeping out the cool morning air.

There's a light humming noise coming from Jackie's room, not loud enough to wake him, but carrying on the air and making everything thrum a little inside of him. He rounds the corner and watches her everyday movements and day by day routine. He's reminded of his parents then, not in a creepy way, but a reminder of a solid moment from his childhood: his mother stood by the mirror, a smile on her face as his Father comes up behind her, large hands on her tiny waist and sliding down her hips as she leans back to kiss him; the curve of her lips tilted in a grin as they land warm against the stubbled skin of his jaw line.

It takes five steps to cross the length of her bedroom, the blanket dropping to his feet - and he didn't think of that because he stumbles slightly as it wraps around his feet and he shuffles forward; taking the hairbrush swiftly out of her hands and turning Jackie to face him.

Her mouth is just beginning to round in question as he leans in and presses his own mouth fast against hers. A second of stiffness as her surprise registers before she's kissing him back, all slow movement as her tongue licks past his lips and pushes into his mouth and takes over; her fingers dancing lazy circles at the back of his neck as he gathers fistfuls of her hair in his own hands.

It seems simple really, like this was where it was always going to end up when he first asked her to come over; moving easily into each other's lives as if they were never two separate people to begin with.

He makes a brief note to self to remember to thank Ox the next time he sees him.

End.