puckandpie | [4/25] baking and a movie

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[4/25] baking and a movie

I've honestly been really good about not asking to use Jack's oven too much since mine got replaced by poor, broken Betsy a couple months ago. For the most part, I keep my baking to Semele's kitchen and the cat cafe and, when really in a crunch, Derek's commissary.

It's late tonight though. Too late for both Semele's and the cat cafe and Derek's place just seems so far. So I've broken down and asked Jack and, of course, he's been far too gracious in letting me take over his kitchen for a few hours.

Maybe it helps that I bribed him with the promise of half a batch of maple cream cookies, but it's probably just as likely that Jack is being nice. If absolutely nothing else, he's too Canadian to slam the door in my face.

Macha and Shannon are clearly enjoying my efforts, both nearly as bad as Elvis as far as being underfoot at least until Jack gets them under control in the other room where he's watching something that involves a lot of cannons, Denzel Washington, and the guy who was Wesley in The Princess Bride.

Once the last batch of cookies is out and cooling, I let out a breath and slip out of my apron before wandering into the other room. For a moment or two, I just let myself take in the breadth of Jack's shoulders, the hard lines of his beautiful profile. He looks good like this, warm and comfortable in his own space, not trying to be anyone other than exactly who he is.

Tamping down on the nerves in my belly, I carefully step over Macha to join Jack on the couch, Shannon curled up between us.

"I'll have those cookies I promised you ready in just about fifteen minutes," I tell him, smiling faintly over at him. "Thanks again for letting me use your oven, Jack. I really really appreciate it."

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Even just that is enough to make me want to ask a dozen more questions, but I force myself to just listen and nod for the moment. It's a little harder when I feel his hand move over mine, threading out fingers together. It makes something in my palms ache and my chest go tight.

A good feeling though. This could really be something even if I need to be patient for awhile longer.

"Well, we don't... I mean, if you're not ready for that, we don't have to define it. I've only had one boyfriend myself and he... I mean, I'm pretty sure we both wanted to be with other people the whole time so it was sort of weird. I'm not exactly an expert on this is what I'm saying. Maybe, uhm. Maybe we could figure it out together?"

"It's not that I'm not ready," I say uselessly, frustrated by my own ability to say anything that makes sense. Eventually I just look at Bittle helplessly. I take him in, all of him, from his golden hair and big brown eyes, the soft curve of his mouth. I want to keep looking at him; I don't even want to blink.

Slowly, I lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek, just at the corner of his mouth. I let the touch of my lips linger as I wrap my other arm around him and pull him in, letting out a breath against his skin as I nod. "Yeah, we can figure it out together."

Jack Zimmermann is going to kiss me.

He moves in slowly enough that I could pull back if I wanted to, but there isn't a single cell in my entire body that does, my heart nearly flipping over in my chest and my breath catching tight as his lips brush my cheek, right at the corner of my mouth, linger there as his other arm comes up around my shoulders.

It's not a nuzzle. Nothing like before. Jack's arms are strong, his hold so so warm and I suddenly want nothing more than another kiss. One that doesn't land mostly on my cheek.

And maybe it's pushing things too fast too soon, I don't know, but I find myself squeezing his hand a little tighter and turning just that little bit more so that my lips are unmistakably pressed to his. It's not like kissing Simon or even kissing Derek. I don't think I've ever been more nervous in all my life; he can probably feel me shaking like a leaf under his arm.

I keep it short, not wanting to presume anything, not wanting to push, and when I pull away, I feel more than a little dazed. "Yeah, we'll, uhm. We... we can do that. Goodness, I'm glad I'm already sitting down."

I feel him turning his head and I go still, breath catching in my throat. His lips are soft and warm against mine and I wrap my arms more tightly around him. He seems as nervous as I feel, but I still chase his lips a little when he pulls away.

My eyes flutter open and I chuckle a little, reaching up to wipe away some flour from Bittle's cheek with my thumb. I cup his cheek and lean in for another short kiss and even though my heart is racing, it's good. It's exhilarating.

I've only had a few kisses in my life, but none of them were like this.

He's kissed me three times in less than thirty seconds and I greedily duck in for a fourth, just letting myself savor the press of his warm lips against mine, still half-convinced I'm either dreaming this or that it's all some trick Darrow's playing, all of it gone in a manner of seconds.

If so, the press of his palm against my cheek is something I never want to forget.

My heart is still pounding when I finally pull back, eyes wide. Gracious but his eyes are an unreal sort of blue and I can see every bit of stubble on his chiseled jaw. This has to be a dream.

And then I hear a familiar whine from behind the bathroom door, quickly followed by a thud and scratch.

"Macha," I breathe. "We should... We should really clean this mess." But I can't seem to make myself move. If I do, I'm not convinced I'll find my way here ever again.

Bittle tastes like maple. It takes me a very long moment to connect that with the fact that he was making maple cookies, and not that he is somehow this perfect human who tastes like Canadian candy. Close, though.

He's staring at me and I'm so scared, but I want more. I want to taste more maple, maybe this time on his tongue. I'm debating whether or not to lean in when Macha throws herself against the door, and I blink owlishly as I finally tear my gaze away from him.

"Uh, maybe." I clear my throat and give him a sheepish smile. "Not sure that I want to, though."

He's nervous, I realize with a jolt. It makes something inside me relax just a little even if we're probably not nervous for the same reasons.

It's hard not to smile then, my face heating again as I let out a quiet laugh and give his hand a quick squeeze. Macha's whining now but I think maybe she'll be okay for another couple seconds and I let myself lean in again, just close enough to brush my nose against his.

"The sooner you let me clean up, the sooner we can, uhm. We can maybe get back to this?" I tell him, suddenly losing my nerve a little at the end. "If you want, I mean."

"Yes. Yeah, okay," I say sheepishly, huffing out a small laugh. I kiss the corner of his mouth and stand up, looking down at the mess we've made. "Uh, okay. You clean up out here, and I'll clean up myself and the dog, and we'll meet on the couch?"

I nod at the plan and let my gaze linger on him for a moment before I head for the bathroom, pulling off my flour dusted shirt as I go. Macha whines and I coo at her in French before cracking the door and slipping inside before she can get out.

Her fur is short and I'm impatient so instead of giving her a whole bath, I wet a wash cloth with warm water and wipe down my face and arms before giving her a quick scrub. Once all the flour is gone from us both, I crack the door again and stick my head out, holding Macha back with my leg. "Ready for me to unleash the beast?"

Jack laughs, a quiet huff before he presses yet another kiss to the corner of my mouth. I feel like my cheeks won't ever be their normal color ever again, but I stand up when he does and pull in a breath. "Yes. Good plan," I agree, glancing down at the rather spectacular mess of flour and sugar that still awaits.

Turning back to the kitchen to grab a washcloth, I catch the sight of Jack's bare back for about half a second and nearly trip over my own feet. Luckily, he disappears behind the bathroom door then and I can force myself to focus on scrubbing the floor, working hard to get every last piece of sugar cleaned up so it's not gross and sticky. I'm just finishing up when I hear the bathroom door open again and, laughing, I give the floor one last good swipe before standing again.

"All clear," I call out, grinning first at Jack and then at Macha as she's released. Tongue lolling, she comes barreling toward me then stops only a foot or so away, legs splayed as she immediately starts shaking the water out of her fur.

"Good Lord! Macha!" There's at least enough room for me to duck away, but I'm still laughing, shooing her away as she tries to step close again. "Ah, no you don't! I've learned my lesson, lady. You keep away!"

"Ah, mauvais chien!" I say with a laugh, going over to the bedroom and letting Shannon out. He runs over to Macha and distracts her, rubbing against her damp fur, and I go into the kitchen to fill their food bowls. It distracts them as planned, and I take Bittle's hand to pull him over towards the sofa.

I sink down into the corner and after a moment, I swallow hard and pull Bittle down into my lap. His butt nestles between my thighs as he sits sideways across my lap, and I slide my hand up his back. "This okay?"

It's a whirlwind for a bit of dogs and Jack and, for a moment, I'm just standing there, dumbfounded. I'm both disappointed and relieved he's put his shirt back on and I still feel like I'm in some sort of daze when he takes my hand and leads me back to the couch.

He looks a little nervous, but he actually lifts me up to settle me in his lap, one hand on my back. Once again, I feel like I can't breathe.

"This has to be a dream," I breathe then, realizing a moment too late that I've actually said it out loud. My face floods with heat and, laughing at myself, I duck in against Jack's neck, one hand grabbing his shoulder. It's only then I manage a nod in answer to his question, forcing myself to take a few breathes and really soak it all in. "But yeah, this is..."

I pull back then because I want to see his eyes. Need to. Goodness, it's overwhelming.

"This is so much more than okay. Is this okay?" I ask then, lifting my hand from his shoulder to cup his jaw as I lean in enough to brush my lips against his again.

"I promise that you're awake," I reply softly, feeling my cheeks heat up. Bittle looks at me, really looks at me, and I feel naked. I feel like my insides are showing and that's a little terrifying, but if I were to show them to anyone, it would be Bittle.

"Yeah," I say as he pulls me in, warm fingers on my jaw. His lips are so soft, so full, and I nearly whimper as they brush so teasingly against mine. Now that I've had a small taste of this, of him, I need it. "Yeah, Bits. I want it."

Jack doesn't shy away, his blue eyes big and wide and locked on mine as brush my fingers over his jaw. He doesn't pull away when I lean in for another kiss either and it's so hard to just shake apart, especially when he says those three little words, when he says he wants this.

Something about it is almost devastating. I can't fight the shocked whine that pushes past my throat so I don't even try, my hand curling tight around the back of his neck, clinging as I just breathe against his open mouth. "Me too," I tell him, just in case that isn't clear. Despite what he's said, despite how amazingly, incredibly real he feels beneath me, warm and strong and solid, I'm still not convinced this isn't a dream. I may need a whole team of professional pinchers to convince me, honestly.

If it is just a dream, I'm gonna enjoy every second of it and I steal another kiss, whimpering softly as I pet his cheek with my thumb and shuddering a breath a moment later. "Goodness, Jack, I really really want this. Please don't let me wake up."

The noise that Bittle lets out makes me shudder and I put my hands on his hips, shifting him so that he's straddling me instead. He keeps kissing me, each one better than the last.

"Bittle," I say with a fond huff of laughter, pulling back to look at him. He seems like he's under some delusion that he's the winner here, like he's the one who's lucky. "Am I going to have to check you?"

My fingers find his hip and pinch just enough to sting. "I'm right here, mon chou. It's not a dream."

Strong as he is, he has no difficulty shifting me around on his lap -- and good Lord, I am not thinking too hard about that right now -- and I help as well as I'm able, a knee on either side of his hips as I settle back on his thighs, my hands awkwardly patting his chest.

"Is that some sorta euphemism?" I ask with a laugh, feeling a little delirious. At least until he sneaks a hand up my side, the feel of his fingers making me shiver right up to the point where he pinches.

I let out a completely undignified squeak, face flushing red as I swat at his hand and then immediately duck in for another kiss, another little piece of proof. "Okay. Okay, not a dream," I whisper between one kiss and the next, every nerve in my body just fit to burst. "Are you gonna tell me what that means though? Mon shoe?"

"Not a dream," I say against his lips, pulling him in closer and reaching up to cup his cheek. It does feel a little like a dream, but only because it's so good. It's so wonderful and I feel a little like I'm flying, but Bittle's question has me laughing.

"What fun would it be for me if I told you, eh?" I tell him as I lay a kiss on his jaw, mouth close to his ear. "Peut-être que je ne veux pas vous dire, mon chou. Que faire si je veux juste vous embrasser à la place?"

His hand feels huge against my cheek and so so warm and it takes every bit of willpower I have not to nuzzle into it like a cat. Though it helps that his lips are brushing against mine again and I can focus on that instead.

At least until he's then brushing a kiss to my jaw and whispering against my ear, his voice low and gorgeous and oh-- oh my goodness, he's speaking French. It goes straight through me, breath catching in my throat and if I'm not careful, this amazing moment could get really awkward really quickly.

"You're just playing dirty now," I manage a moment later, more than a little breathless as I pull back to meet his eyes. "I'm assuming you're not gonna tell me what you just said then, either. So help me, Jack Zimmermann, I'm gonna enroll in a French 101 class and then you'll see what's what."

"Am I?" I ask, blinking innocently and then chuckling softly. "Yes, take French at school. I learned to bake for you, after all."

I adjust us so that we're laying on the sofa together, legs entwined as Bittle lays on top of me. I push his golden hair away from his face and let out a pleased sigh. "I'm glad you needed to use my oven tonight, Bits."

"Oh, don't give me that. You learned to bake so you'd get a decent grade, Mr. Zimmermann."

I'm laughing then, both relieved and a little disappointed when he shifts again, this time stretching out on the sofa, me draped over him. It's a bit like earlier except not on the floor and not nearly so awkward. It's... comfortable actually, and I swear my heart melts right in my chest when he lightly moves the hair away from my face.

"Me too," I reply, letting myself really just look at him for awhile. Now that I can. "I, uh... I might be usin' it a bit more now, too. Just to warn you."

"Oui, I would hope so," I say with a soft chuckle. I like Bittle in my space doing what he does best. It's comforting, and will probably be even more so now. Bittle settles against me and he's a warm, pleasant weight. All his curves fit perfectly into my dips, and I swear I haven't felt so at home since the last time that I was on the ice. "I like having you here."

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[4/25] baking and a movie

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