2007-05-13: A Prince By Any Other Name


Jack_icon.gif Trina_icon.gif

Summary: Jack and Trina get their first morning after. It's filled with food and profanity. Ah, glorious first love blushes.

Date It Happened: May 13, 2008

A Prince By Any Other Name

Jack's Apartment — Prestige Midtown Apts.

This lofted-ceiling studio apartment is quite spacious and tastefully furnished. There's a closet just to the left of the door and a kitchen area to the right. A propane stove top, standing pantry, large refrigerator, and an island countertop with several barstools tucked around it dominate the cooking area.
Farther into the studio, the smoothly-polished, irregularly-fitted marble cobbles that make up the kitchen and entryway floor give way to buffed, varnished red oak slats. In the sitting area there is a matching set of overstuffed, maroon leather couches and recliners arrayed around a fifty-inch LCD television and high-end stereo. A grey-green, blunt nosed lizard no less than three feet in length is sunning itself beneath a reading lamp that's positioned over the back of a chair. Along the wall next to the television, floor to ceiling windows and a sliding glass door lead out to a balcony that provides a spectacular view of the hustle and bustle on Madison Avenue.
In one rear corner, a heavy bag and a speed bag are positioned almost too close together. Even an overpriced studio has limits, after all. Propped in the other rear corner is a rolled workout mat large enough to cover most of the floor as well as a wooden striking and parrying dummy. Most of the rest of the rear wall is taken up by an enormous fish tank where dozens of koi fish in several different colors swim about lazily while an impossibly fuzzy, round, and orange kitten looks on with predatory interest. Next to the fish tank, a shallowly pitched ladder leads up to a simple sleeping area that contains little more than a closet, a king-sized bed, and a bedside table and lamp.

A little before eleven, Jack slides out of bed and knuckles at his eyes. Then, with a quick shake of his head, he realizes that Trina is still sleeping on the other side of the king. Leaning down, he presses a very light kiss against her cheek, then stumbles gracelessly down into the kitchen. Though he does his best to be quiet, the clatter of glass and cookware is in the air, followed by the scent of coffee brewing and bacon frying.

Mascara-lined blue eyes eventually open and blink as the clatter of activity makes for a subtle alarm. Trina takes a moment to allow herself to remember where it is, exactly, that she's waking up. She stretches, slowly, only to realize that the spot beside her is empty and cold. Any disappointment, however, is quickly remedied with the smell and sound of a kitchen in use. He didn't leave.

Glancing about, she finally finds her t-shirt and underwear. Enough that she can actually prance about the place without looking like an *entirely* brazen hussy. Notice our use of the word 'entirely'. When she wanders out of the sleep area, she finally takes in exactly the magnitude of where it is that she slept and anyone who could actually catch sight of her mouth would see the silent words 'Oh my God' as she is drawn towards the kitchen like a magpie to silver. Coffee. She smells coffee. Did *he* make coffee? He had to. And… food. Good grief, he's *cooking*. "You… you didn't have to do that. I- I'd'a done it if you wanted."

From somewhere in the living room, Jack has acquired and thrown on a short-sleeved robe that trails around his calves as he bustles to and fro. The sight of the scantily clad Trina elicits a eye-twinkling smile from him, and he fills a mug with the previously mentioned coffee. "No cream, sorry. There's milk in the fridge, and sugar on the counter." He points at a canister next to the coffeemaker, then kisses her by the corner of her mouth. Halfway back to the stove, he stops to peer back at her. At his hip, the bacon sizzles next to a pan where two one-eyed Jacks are frying. No pun intended.

"You'd have done it? Bollocks to that. Dotin' on a beautiful lady is one of life's lovely perks." With the matter closed in his mind, he flips both bacon and egg-in-bread.

Jack is strange. Strange and wonderful. The kiss is returned with a distracted delay, distracted due to the staring as Trina tries with only moderate success to come to terms with what the hell is happening in front of her. He's *cooking*. "I… Thank you," she finally manages before softly padding into the kitchen, feet rolling ball to heel with a limited dancer's skill, and making her way to the sugar. Milk is forgone, a luxury long since learned to be lived without. Once the coffee's sufficiently sweetened, her head tilts and she ruffles her hair to try and banish the appearance of the tangles that lurk in the dark tresses. And don't think for a minute that she's not giving the sight of Jack in his robe all due attention. Though… the robe is a bit of an oddity, too. "Can I do anything? I feel like I should be doing something."

"Nah. S'almost done. I was hopin' to surprise you in bed, but I can live with this." The smile Jack sends Trina's way is a little self-conscious. Oooooooh. Somebody's got a cruuuuuush.

Humming a nameless tune under his breath, Jack gives the eggs a quick poke to make sure they're well-set in the toast. Then he carefully stacks still-hot slices of bacon atop each. After balancing one open-faced sandwich atop the other, he carries them over to the countertop on a spatula and dumps them on a pair of plates with forks neatly beside. "I didn't think to ask what you'd like, so I hope you fancy this," he rumbles pleasantly.

"You *cooked*," Trina replies, smiling back with her own odd species of coy. "What kinda ungrateful do you take me for?" She then dances a funky little half-skip, half-overly exaggerated sneak to a place behind him in order to wrap her arms about his waist and kiss the back of his shoulder. "'Sides. I'd be lyin' if I said it didn't smell downright divine." Another kiss, this time to the side of his neck. "You're just full of tricks."

Snuggling backward against his lady, Jack lets out a basso laugh. "I /am/ a magician. Didn't I tell you that?" In no hurry to give up the press of female through the fabric of his robe, he lets out a dreamy sigh and scoops up his coffee cup. The neck kiss is a sweet spot, and pulls a purr from deep in his throat. "Mmm. Your flattery is delicious, though. Omnomnom."

Snapping her teeth next to Jack's ear, Trina chuckles. "Not as delicious as you." Letting her hands pull back, carefully so as to not spill the contents of the coffee mug she keeps from his skin, the Georgian reject resists the urge to tickle. He has coffee, too, after all. "Now, can we eat? Because my stomach is pond'rin' a scene from Aliens to get at that plate if my mouth doesn't help it out soon." Sex, coffee, and food. Real food that she didn't have to cook. Man, it takes a significant dent out of the hollow left by her poor curbed Baby.

Grinning, Jack nuzzles briefly at Trina's cheek before he withdraws to eat. "You're right, man cannot live on flattery alone. I freakin' adore you, you know that?" Rather than disassemble the toast and bacon, he picks the sort-of sandwich up and takes a hearty bite. Cooked with real butter, fresh-farmed eggs that the quick handed Irishman has acquired (probably underhandedly) from somewhere, and loaded with pork, it's not a meal that anyone would consider healthy by any stretch of the imagination. Therefore it must be delicious.

Fat and cholesterol taste very similar to love. Which, in this particular equation, is making for a whole lotta giddy. Making her way to the counter, Trina picks up her own bit of luxury without even a glance at the fork. He did it first! That must mean its okay. At the first bite, Trina pauses. Then watch! Watch as her knees seem to buckle and she moves towards the floor before pulling herself back up to a standing position. Throwing her head back so as to prevent anything from spilling out, she talks into the air with a hand slightly covering her mouth so poor Jack doesn't actually see the partially chewed contents. "Oh, my fucking God," she mumbles with her mouth full. "You fucking *rock*."

Jack lets out a snorting laugh around his own mouthful that lacks any semblance of class. Before he can start to choke, he gulps it down and bites his lower lip to stifle himself. "Oh man. Thanks, sweetness. You're the most adorable thing I've ever seen, I think." He gazes over at the young woman fondly, then shakes his head and points skyward. "Somebody up there likes me. If girls like you grew on trees, I'd start a plantation and give up the bartendin' biz." Basking in his new-relationship glow, he picks up a strip of bacon and pops it into his mouth.

Sticking out her tongue once she's swallowed, Trina shakes her head. "Eh. Y'don't need to say that. I gotta go home eventually, which means I need my head to fit through the door." Washing down the frightfully unhealthy and altogether glorious bite of decadence with a large gulp of coffee, she continues. "Seriously, though. Thank you for cooking." After a quick wipe of her lips with her fingertips ensures that there are no crumbs, she reaches up to offer a kiss on the cheek. "You're so sweet."

Jack shrugs modestly, but it's easy to see that he enjoys the compliment. Jack? Sweet? Elena would die. Both the thought and the kiss bring a small smile to his lips. "I really don't mind," he finally replies. "I find it.. What's the word? Cathartic, I think? Anyway, it's relaxin', makin' a meal for somebody you care about." Never one to talk much about emotions and whatnot, he ducks his head and blushes slightly. "Just don't tell anybody. My tough guy image couldn't handle the strain," he quips.

"Secret dies with me," Trina replies with a gentle bump of her hip against his and a grin. It's a grin that dims a little as she picks at her food for a second, mulling over the thoughts that such a word brings to the surface. Finally, her mouth pulls to one side in a funny crinkle that is just shy of a pensive frown, and she lifts her cup to her lips without immediately drinking. "Speaking of which. You ain't gonna tell anyone 'bout me, right?" Her eyes then turn to look at Jack without the benefit of a head turning. Yeah, she means about *that*. Moment of truth, she guesses. Ssssip.

"What?" Jack stares at Trina blankly for a moment before her meaning dawns on him. "OH! NO!" Clearing his throat to cover his surprise, he lowers his voice to a more normal tone. "Sorry. No, of course I won't. No more than you'd tell anyone about me, I hope." His easy smile and relaxed posture show a distinct lack of concern on that issue. For Jack, trust is a go big or go home kind of game. "I do hope you'll eventually want to meet some of my friends. Most of them are special, too."

"Eventually, maybe, yeah." It's dismissive at first, but it sounds moreso than she really intends. A fried piece of bacon is broken off and shoved in her mouth, pushed to the side of her mouth to chew as she continues talking. "I mean, I just need to take things slow." Okay, and that just sounds WRONG coming out of her mouth. It draws a sour look from her face, like she just stuck a lemon in there. "Okay, that sounds fucking *LAME*, but you know what I mean. Can I scratch that I ever said that from the record?"

Jack holds both hands palm-out and nods to indicate his understanding. "I get it, it's cool. They don't have to know anythin' about you until you say so. S'your secret, after all." Reaching out, he rubs Trina's back reassuringly. "Just promise me something? Never make that face again. It looked like somebody fed you a spoonful of poo," he teases, kneading at the muscles in her neck and shoulders.

"Saying 'slow' *tastes* like poo," Trina says in her defense, but the smile's already creeping back onto her lips. Especially since here she is, getting touched again. As she melts into those hands with a sigh, it makes her *almost* forget about the amazing dish sitting on the plate beside her. "But thank you. For everything. You really have *no* idea what it means to me."

Cocking his head to the side, Jack peers at Trina curiously. His thumbs probe up and down on either side of her spine, and his wiry fingers work smoothly in their wake. He quietly ponders her statement before responding. "I'm glad that it pleases you. In my eyes, you're all the lady a guy could hope for and then a little bit. Coffee and breakfast is just my way of sayin' 'thanks for havin' me.'" One hand slides down to pat her panty-covered bottom fondly, then he reaches around her to retrieve his coffee cup. "Fuck me, you're a pretty thing."

That pat makes her pop a hip in his direction, Trina clucking her tongue and winking with a very devious curl to her mouth. She then reaches for her mug and drinks another blessed gulp down, eyes watching him all the while. And never you mind that set of toes that starts to snake its way up Jack's leg. "You know, Sexy Man, depending on when you have to be at work, I just might! *I* don't have to be clocked in 'til 4." And the shine of newness still wears well on him.

Grey eyes sparkling merrily, Jack plops his coffee cup back down on the counter and wraps his arms around Trina's slim waist. "Promises, promises," he rumbles under his breath as he leans in to first nip at the curve of her ear, then press a kiss under her jaw.

Pressing close, Trina sighs at the kiss, low and soft. When she finally speaks, her voice is quiet enough that the click of consonants rises well above that of vowels. "Just lemme finish my breakfast — since we know that ladies need fuel to burn at their best — and then we'll see how much is just talk." And with that, she rubs a bare leg against his… only to bend backwards against his arms to snag the last bit of bacon from her plate and then come back to bite into it with a playful, over-exaggerated sensuality and the obligatory 'Grr' sound. "Not to mention," she continues with mouth full once more. "It's gotta be a sin to waste this stuff."

Jack nods agreeably, pleasantly aware of the fact that Trina isn't going anywhere in a hurry. And hell, if she is, she's coming back. After finishing up breakfast, he takes her back upstairs to make good on his promises, and hold her to hers. Afterward, he jets her to work in Julia with time to spare.

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