2007-10-19: Meant To Be

Starring:

Trina_icon.gif Jack_icon.gif

Summary: sweet words exchanged over a candlelit dinner lead to a brief getaway for Jack and Trina.

Date It Happened: October 19th, 2007

Log Title Meant To Be


Location Jack's Apartment - NYC

Early evening. The nurse that Trina has so lovingly been referring to as 'Big Black Bertha' has finally been released from her service, leaving the dark haired motorhead alone for the better part of the afternoon. It left her bored. Left her thinking.

No good can come of this.

Cooking was never her forte. There was just something about the whole 'timing' and 'mixing' thing that she never seemed to grasp. Maybe that's why, about five minutes ago, the apartment — lit only by candlelight from a bag worth of tea lights scattered about the room and several pillar candles on the coffee table and dripping wax everywhere— went from smelling like baking bread and cooking store-bought lasagne to OMG SMOKE. Plumes of smoke are barreling out of the oven, left open after the thing was turned off.

Maybe that's why the too-thin young woman — who is actually wearing a slinky black dress, strappy little heels, curls in her hair and makeup — is now frantically throwing open windows with a slew of profanity exiting her mouth at rapid speeds.

Jack pauses in the hallway just outside the door to his apartment. There's an unfamiliar scent in the air. Smoke. Something burning, but it's not plastic-y or fabric-y, and most of his apartment is made out of stone or metal. All the same, he pauses and presses his palm to the door briefly. It's warmer than it should be, but barely enough to be noticeable.

When Trina's panicky swearing reaches his ears through the door, Jack immediately braces his shoulder against it and heaves, despite the fact that he's personally installed enough locks and bolts in the door to give the Hulk pause. "Hold on, baby!" he calls out to her. "I'm coming!"

Working fast, he draws a pistol from the small of his back and digs a silencer from the side pocket of his woolen peacoat. He fits them together with shaking hands, then aims at a spot he's almost positive has a heavy locking mechanism behind it. He hesitates, though. What if he's wrong? What if Trina is on the other side of the door, trying to get out?

Insert more Crayola-colorful cursing. Currently with a dishtowel in her hands, trying to wave the smoke out the window and possibly creating some sort of Indian smoke signal over the fire escape in the process, Trina's blue eyes shoot towards the door, momentarily terrified. The entire apartment is filled with smoke. And now Jack's here and there's only more cussing. Racing towards the door, unaware of the brandished firearm on the other side, she's already unlatching the thing. "DON'T COME IN, BABY."

She opens the door a crack, just enough to squeeze her face through, really. Then she looks out into the hall, looking guilty as sin. It really doesn't help that some of the smoke is curling out into the hall over top her head like thin, misty fingers, whispering the truth of her failure like the honking tattle tales that they are. "Everything's fine, sugar," she begins with a bright, brilliant, too big smile. "Just come back in… an hour?"

Jack is about to throw himself against the door again when it cracks open and Trina peeks out. He puts the heel-brakes on in grand Fred Flinstone-fashion, nearly dropping his firearm in the process. "I—what?" He lets both hands hang at his sides as he peers through the crack, trying to figure out what the hell is going on his apartment. Though he's relieved and surprised in spades, curiosity and concern are natural responses to plumes of smoke.

Then Jack shakes his head and focuses on Trina for the first time. "W-w-w. Wow. You look amazing," he stutters.

"Thanks?" The smile falters, however, when Trina sees the gun. He was really worried. Her eyes squeeze tightly shut and then she backs up, opening the door wide. Everything inside is unsinged, save the hunks of black in the oven that were once a loaf of bread and frozen lasagne, and there's a heavy haze of smoke that hovers in the air. It makes the apartment look almost creepy, particularly with the hundred flickering tea lights tucked everywhere and the dripping pillars on Jack's table.

"I'm sorry," she offers at nearly a whisper, nearly lost under the somewhat louder strains of Johnny Cash playing on the stereo. "I just wanted to surprise you." After that, she just falls back into silence in her half-hidden spot behind the open door, waiting for the screaming to begin with darkly framed eyes tightly squeezed shut.

It only takes Jack a moment to see that a little spilled wax is the worst of the damage caused by the candles. Curiously, his grey eyes roam around the hazy, dimly lit apartment until they come to rest on the kitchen. "Awwww," he murmurs, curling an arm around Trina's waist and pulling her gently against his chest. "Honey, you baked." It's clear from his expression that Jack's not sure wether he should laugh or smile. He's trying hard not to do either as he gives his lover a reassuring squeeze. "You're so damn sweet."

When the yelling never comes, but rather she's drawn up in arms, Trina is effectively dumbfounded. The words 'pleasantly surprised' do not seem to effectively communicate the deep sense of relief that releases the ball of fear from her gut. Not even a shout. No unpleasant names. It's this remarkable gentleness that continues to catch her offguard.

If I a tinkerer was my trade, would I still find you? I'd be carrying the pot you made, following behind you. Save your love through loneliness, save your love through sorrow. I gave you my onlyness. Give me your tomorrow…

When she settles against his chest, Trina just clings there for a moment. It's a quiet moment interrupted by a cough. Well, might as well start talking again. "If you wanna grab somethin' to eat, I'll get the place aired out."

Chuckling heartily with happiness and relief, Jack gives Trina another tender squeeze. "Leave the windows open. You're all dressed up, we might as well go out." With a wink, he jerks his head in the direction of the hallway and the elevator. "What are the neighbors going to do? Complain about the smell? They're terrified of us." This is a prospect that doesn't seem to bother Jack at all. In fact, he seems pleased, grinning toothily as he presses his cheek against his lady's curled and primped hair. He inhales deeply, reveling in her familiar, comforting scent mixed with more unfamiliar traces of perfumes and cosmetics. "I can't believe you did all this just for me."

"I tried, anyway." Hopefully no one's called the fire department. At Jack's proposition, Trina rears her head back to look at her boyfriend with a tilt of her head. "Are you sure, baby? I know you ain't a hundred percent. We could call something in. I don't wanna make you be out more than you gotta when you're sick."

"I've never been more sure in my life," Jack insists. "I might be having a few problems, but I'm still sound enough to take my best girl out for a good meal." He slides his hand down her arm and laces his fingers through hers fondly. "We can go somewhere fancy and pretend to be sophisticated," he continues, eyes twinkling mischievously. "It'll be fun."

"…I don't really belong in those fancy places," Trina offers with a tiny little shrug. She doesn't resist the opportunity to hold on tight to her boyfriend's hand, and she swings it a little to dispel the little bit of nervous energy that seems to return. "I wouldn't know the first thing about how to act. But I do love it when you call me your best girl." She then reaches up, moving to plant a light kiss on his cheek.

"Maybe we just get in the car, go to a hotel, and order a little room service, then?" Jack nuzzles in happily against Trina's kiss, more than willing to make a compromise that involves giving them some time alone with people to fetch things for them between bouts of snuggles, smooches, and things that usually get compressed into brief, tasty clips on NBC. "Whatever makes you happy, baby. I just want to spend my evening with you."

"Ooh!" Hotel room. Kicking her foot up behind her playfully, Trina is back to smiling brightly at that. "Now there's an idea that I can get behind! Lemme just blow out the candles." Of course, that's not where she's going at first. No, there is much more passionate kissing to do first. It's so fantastic just to have him back. Anything else, they can work with.

Though he grunts quietly with exertion, Jack sweeps Trina off her feet, dips her low, and kisses her deeply with one arm supporting her weight and the other tangled in the hair at the nape of her neck. "Mmm. Mrrr…" he purrs languidly when he finally releases her. "Yeah. Candles, or we might not make it out of here." Still, like a teenage boy with his first crush, he maintains contact, his fingers brushing against her wrists, trailing along her ribs, and lingering at the small of her back.

There's a deep sigh of contentment at the expression of affection, Trina happily devouring it before returning her own brand of adoration. "You are the most amazing thing ever," she chirps before kissing his cheek once more and then pulling away to start hunting down a hundred tea lights. She's two down before a brilliant thought comes to her. "Can you hit the lights, sugar?" It'll help with that whole seeing thing once the candles are out.

"You got it." Jack flicks the lights off, then creeps up quietly behind Trina in mid-extinguish. Laughing, he wraps his arms around her waist and gives her a playful nip on the collarbone from over her shoulder. "Want to meet me downstairs? I can start the car so it'll be warm when you get your pretty behind out there."

With Jack behind her, Trina sighs happily, eyes closing blissfully. Yeah, she could spend the rest of her life in this happy quiet. Everything seems so manageable. So easy. Nothing that they can't handle. "You are the best ever, you know that?"

"Don't make me fight you over which one of us is sweeter to the other," Jack warns her jokingly as he brushes his lips against the back of her neck and folds his hands across her stomach. "I'm bigger and meaner." He verifies the statement with a mock growl.

The mirth doesn't last, though. A serious expression crosses his face and he whispers, "You're too good to me. You really are."

"Jack, you're the only one who's ever treated me like I ain't some huge screw up. That deserves some pamperin'." Trina rubs Jack's hands, and then slips out of his arms to finish blowing out candles. "And I ain't turnin' tail just 'cuz things get hard." She then straightens at that, smirking. "Heck. I like some things that way." Turning, she looks at Jack with a slanted head. "I ain't never been good, really, at talkin' 'bout all that emotion crap. I just know I love you. And I'd do anything for you."

"And I for you, baby. There's nobody for me but you. You know that, right?" Jack shrugs his shoulders slightly and stuffs his hands into his pockets. "That's why I call you my best girl." Though he's grown more expressive during his absence, eloquence still isn't his specialty. He continues, but this time his voice is quiet and he averts his eyes shyly. "There's a reason you and I found each other. S'meant to be."

"I couldn't agree more." As she continues blowing out candles — why on earth did she light so many? — Trina finds comfort in the increasing dark of the apartment. He can't see her expression as her brow furrows slightly. "And you would tell me if things were… Nevermind." A sigh. She blows out another candle. "I'm really worried about you. S'all."

"Hey, don't worry about me. Jack strong. I'll be better before you know it. Especially under your tender care." He puts on his most charming and convincing grin as he pulls a cell phone from his pocket. It takes him a moment to thumb through the directory and figure out some of the more complex (basic) functions, but eventually he hits the green button, lifts it to his ear, and listens to the ringing. "Hullo? Yes, I'd like one of the honeymoon suites. Mmmhmm, the ones in the penthouse. No, I'm fine with the premium. We'll be there in ten…"

Jack pauses and pulls the phone away from his ear. He chews his lower lip as he eyes Trina from tresses to toes. "Make that forty minutes, and leave a six pack on ice in the room." Without waiting for an answer from whoever's on the other end, he disconnects and sets his phone carelessly on the counter.

Blowing out the last of the tea lights, all that is left are the pillar candles that continue to dribble their white wax onto the coffee table, flickering light across the room's walls. Trina laughs as the phone is put down. "Mmm," she purrs, sashaying atop those stiletto heels that wrap her feet in tiny patent leather straps. "You make it sound like you've got plans."

"'The lady doth protest too much,'" Jack teases. "You did this for me…" The word 'this' is emphasized with a wave that includes her dress, her makeup, and her hair. "Which means you might've started out thinking of dinner, but you were planning dessert by the time I got here." His eyes sparkle merrily as he crosses the short distance between them. He cups her cheeks in both hands, bending his head so that he can kiss her deeply.

"Well, maybe I was," Trina confesses with a toothy grin. A hand reaches up to fluff her curls, and then she pops a hip so as to better drape her forearm over it in her best sultry vixen pose. For once, she actually looks the part. "But can you blame me? I mean, here you come in with that smoking hot body and the 'oh, hey, I just got into major trouble and won' look, and… it just undoes a girl." She bites her lower lip for a moment as she finally closes the distance. "You leave me behind like that ever again, and I will totally kick your ass. Got it?"

"Consider my ass yours to kick," he replies, smiling crookedly. Jack winds a soft curl of Trina's hair around one long finger and looks her in the eye. "I did it for us, you know," he continues, suddenly serious. "Everything that happened, I did it because I thought it was best for us. Thank you for trusting me. If I have my way, I'll never leave your side again."

"What's best for us is that you be honest with me," Trina replies, brow furrowing and frowning slightly as she reaches her hands up and cups Jack's face with her hands. "I may not like it. I may get angry. But I want to know. There's almost nothin' you can tell me that would make me love you any less."

Jack shakes his head minutely, a bare quiver that's contained by Trina's hands on his jaw. It's a quick, instinctive negative, and he averts his eyes sharply. "Don't make me tell you," he whispers, close to pleading, his voice raspy and hoarse with emotion. "Not yet."

"Shh," the woman finally relents, moving her arms up further in order to curl them about Jack's neck. She rests her head on his shoulder, and her hand moves to lightly stroke his hair. "I didn't mean to—" Just stop, Trina. Stop. Fix this. "It doesn't have to be today, baby. It's okay. You're okay. We're okay."

Jack pulls in a slow breath. Another. He nestles in against the top of Trina's head and sighs softly. Like a little boy, he lets her hold and comfort him, a duty that he usually considers his own. "Thanks." His voice is quiet, moreso because it's muffled by her hair. "I just can't. Not yet," he repeats. He clears his throat, chasing away the hoarseness and steading himself at the same time. "I will, though. One day I will. Just… not today."

Enough talking, the motorhead decides. Talking has proven to be Trina's downfall, and she really shouldn't try to any more. It nearly destroyed what it is that she was trying to do here. It set back her attempt to put Jack at ease and start pretending that things are as okay as the pair of them keep lying and saying that they are. "I love you." That's the only thing safe enough to say. Pulling her head back, Trina rolls up onto the balls of her feet, kissing deeply.

Jack clings to Trina and kisses her back passionately, but very, very gently. Now he takes her in his arms again, cradling her as if she might break if he squeezes to hard. A long moment passes that's filled with soft lips and absolutely no memories that would be better left forgotten. When he separates from her reluctantly, he reaches up to brush the backs of his knuckles against her cheek. "I love you too, baby. C'mon. Let's go to the Waldorf and make them bring us grilled cheese sandwiches and tequila shooters on silver platters."

"You have the best ideas ever," Trina replies with a broad grin, positively thrilled at going into a fancy place with the intention of making them gape with their uncouthness, untangling herself to go blow out the last three candles and get her coat so she can stop freezing. Open windows on a breezy October evening make for a cooooold apartment. "Can we get those fried cheese stick things, too?"

"Absolutely. And wings. Gotta have wings, right?" When the apartment is dark, Jack offers Trina his arm and gazes down at her lovingly. The woman who puts up with him, tolerates his shenanigans, and tends his boo-boos. The woman who nearly died because of something he asked her to do. "I could never deserve you," he murmurs as he closes up behind them.

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