#ooh maybe we could play truth bombs and roast the shit out of them

[thebickedwitchoftherest]

Oh My God, They Were Roommates || Camille & Cece

Timing: Sometime before Jane moved in (please don’t roast me)

Location: Cece’s house

Parties: Cece & @carrionxcamille

Summary: When Camille moved in with Cece they share dinner and get to know each other.

Camille was going to owe Cece for the rest of her life, and she didn’t even care about the debt.

Once she’d chucked her pitiful backpack of belongings- yes, she still had that little stuff to her name- into the bedroom that was to be hers, Camille bolted straight to the bathroom, throwing an apology over her shoulder for how long she was about to steal the shower for. Hey, the water pressure in that motel had done absolutely nothing for her hair. When she did eventually leave the bathroom in a flourish of steam with a towel wrapped around her head she felt more at peace than she had in months. Seriously, the wonders of a good hot shower never ceased to amaze.

It was a little while after that she left her room again, in the silky new pajama set she’d treated herself too with her hair soft and shiny and actually dry, since the hairdryer here didn’t threaten to overheat if you had it on for more than five minutes.

The fun didn’t stop there though, because now Camille had a whole actual kitchen to play with. “Cece, I’m gonna make dinner!” She called out, already rummaging through the fridge for ideas- she’d have to start writing the lists for their grocery shopping, this place was lacking- “stop me if you don’t like spaghetti carbonara!” She was already starting anyway, feeling lighter and more at ease than she had in weeks. To be in a real home again really lifted her spirits. 

In almost no time at all she had food set on the table- she was only sorry they didn’t have anything she could make dessert with, but ice cream would do- and was pouring a glass of white wine for each of the girls. “I’m sorry I immediately took over your shower and kitchen.” Camille said, now that some of her excitement had given way and reminded her of her manners, “I hope you like dinner, anyway. I just wanted to say thank you to you, for having me. It means a lot that you’d help me like you have.” 

Cece had been laughing to herself the entire day. As sad as it was, Camille didn’t have much to move with her when Cece set off on helping her move out of that shithole motel she had been trapped in. Nothing but a few small bags that needed transferred to the first of Cece’s guest bedrooms. It had been the same one that Morgan had used after a similar situation had her moving in. Personally, Cece loved the feeling. As horribly as her own circumstances had ended up with the coven, they had still taken her in after getting kicked out of her own home. When she had nowhere else to go, they had taken her in. Obviously, Cece wasn’t about to pull some bullshit like that, but she could pay it back minus the whole culty murder part.

As Camille made herself home and found her way to the fridge, Cece gravitated over towards it and joined her, grabbing a chair at the barstool that looked into the kitchen. “Ooh, Carbonara? Now that’s fancy.” Cece would take whatever Cam was planning on cooking. Cece wasn’t a picky eater by means, and she also wasn’t much of a cook. Cece had learned a few recipes from Morgan but rarely cooked them for herself. 

“Hey, feel free to cook in my kitchen any time. Especially if you’re making enough for two.” Cece held up her wine glass that Camille had poured as if in cheers, “But don’t worry. I have a full bathroom in my room. That one is all yours.” Cece didn’t waste any time digging into the food, nodding her head and giving a thumbs up after the first mouthful, “Oh this shit is bomb” Cece finally spoke after she finished chewing, digging right back in for another bite. “You don’t have to thank me. You needed a place that wasn’t a den for up and coming serial killers. I have two guest rooms. It all worked out. I’d love to know what convinced you to come here of all places.”

She was safe here, that was the other thing. It was so much easier to breathe when you couldn’t hear your vampire neighbors through the walls discussing some party, when you weren’t watching another sad looking lost soul slip through the door of the drug dealer who lived on the other side. This felt like the kind of place she could start her life again. Save up, get an ID and her own place. It would be nice to have company, too. Camille had spent so much time staring blankly at terrible wallpaper with no one to talk too. “You’re in luck, I don’t really know how to cook for just one person.” She laughed, taking a seat at the table and raising her own glass in return to Cece’s gesture. 

It was a simple meal, by her standards anyway, but even Camille was blown away by how good it tasted after weeks of microwave meals and cold sandwiches. “I’m glad you like it- you’ll have to let me know if there’s anything you absolutely won’t or can’t eat, I’ll do some grocery shopping later this week.” She was looking forward to that, too. Proper food shopping. She wondered if Cece had a vegetable crisper. Camille doesn’t answer the question at first, about what convinced her to move to White Crest. She’s not the first person to ask, and she has a party line about her parents living nearby which she knew she should use right now, but…

Camille was remembering the bar, that joke that had been made about Cece hexing someone. Was she really a witch? There wasn’t anything in the house that screamed witchcraft to Cam, but then again she had no idea what sort of stuff that would really be. She ate and drank quietly for a while, considering what to say. If Cam asked outright and Cece turned out to not be a witch, to not know about or believe in any of that kind of stuff, it would be throwing a serious wrench in their dynamic just as they were getting to know eachother. No one wanted a crazy roommate, and spouting off about witches was exactly that. “My parents live nearby.” She spoke up after a while, giving Cece a bright smile and a shrug, “I’d heard about this place growing up and I figured… Well, if there was a time to live in the weird town it was now, right? If nothing else there’s always something wacky going on if I need a distraction.” Which she did, often. “What about you? Why are you in White Crest?”

Cece leaned back in her chair dramatically and patted her belly, “Don’t you worry roomie. This girl eats and and everything. I’m not picky.” Unlike her adopted parents, who both had a myriad of food allergies and dietary restrictions, her genetic parents (fuck them wherever they may be) had graced her with the appetite and taste buds to enjoy just about anything. And no allergies that she knew of to worry about. “I’m not gonna leave you completely hanging though, don’t worry. I can’t cook for shit, but I’ll make an excellent sous-chef.” She feigned cutting vegetables with her fork and then took a huge bite of pasta, “You and me are about to put MasterChef to shame.” 

Cece didn’t believe the answer, not entirely. Maybe it was because of the town itself. It just didn’t seem like people picked up and moved here on a whim. They came here on purpose, or they ended up here by some supernatural unlucky twist of fate. Maybe Camille really did just want a change. If she was looking for a little excitement in her life, then maybe she did turn to the town with a weird reputation. Back in high school, when Cece was full swing into her horror movie phase she probably would have done the same exact thing. She supposed it didn’t matter at the moment, Cam had only just moved in. The two weren’t obligated to explain the truth about them being here to each other. Cece had gotten more comfortable around town, helping out when needed, but that didn’t mean she was yelling it down the streets. “Long story. My family travelled a lot. They’re like the weird living off the Earth hippy types. We travelled all over the country before I finally decided to split off and make my own path. I just so happened to be up here in the New England area, so I looked for some job postings and bought a house.” Cece shrugged. Maybe it was an oversimplified version of the truth, but that story wasn’t one that she planned on telling to anyone. “Not nearly as glamorous as it sounds, honestly. Most of the time, I miss Cali. But this place has its own charms. Can’t complain about the company. Yourself included of course. Being roommates gives you automatic rights to the bestie list. Welcome to the club.”

Camille nods, pretty happy it seems like she’ll be able to have her run of recipes in this house- she’s already running through a list of her favorite things she wants to make first. Salmon, risotto, chickpea curry, stuffed vine leaves, sunday lunch! She’d done pretty much all the meal cooking at home- jobless Jace had made do with sandwiches or leftovers most of the time for lunch while she was at work- so it would be nice to get back into the swing of it, and actually have a little help. She’d read somewhere that cooking together could be a good bonding experience. Cam chuckled, “well that’s good. I’m sure you’ll be able to learn a little if we’re cooking together, too.” And she’d pick up a couple of her old favorite recipe books to leave behind once she moved out, too.

It was also nice to have her food appreciated for once, she’d been lucky to get so much as a thankyou out of Jace. Cam ate a little more as Cece explained how she’d found herself in town, quietly a little jealous that she’d travelled and seen so much more of the country than Cam ever had. From Bangor to Boston and pretty much back again. “Sounds like it must have made for a fun childhood.” She beams when Cece refers to her as a bestie- it’s been an awful long time since Camille has had proper friends. “Happy to be a member.” She says, “I think I’ve hit a patch of good luck, considering how coincidental it was that I met you that night at the bar.” She traces a finger around the rim of her wine glass, smiling wistfully, “hopefully it means things are turning around for me.”

Cece let herself laugh, whether it came across as genuine or sarcastic one was anybody’s guess. Must have made for a fun childhood. Explaining Cece’s past, even a felony free PG version of the tale, seemed complicated. Her life had been made up of different families. Her blood family that had never wanted her. Her adopted family that turned their backs on her. Her coven family, that took advantage of her. And her life here, with some semblance of a found family being built. Far too complex to try to get into during their first dinner together. So as far as Cam knew, maybe her life travelling around the country had been a fun childhood, even if she had never actually left California until she had turned 18. “Everyday was different, I’ll tell you that. Plus it led me here, where I spent the first few months freezing my ass day in and day out.” Cece pointed towards the closet near the front door, “Seriously, you should see all the winter coats I have in there. I used to wear those around the house.” 

That night had been a happy coincidence, hadn’t it? If Cece and Winn had gone to any other bar they probably wouldn’t have met each other at all. Just one of a sea of faces the two would look by as they passed each other on the street everyone once and awhile. “Fate does work in mysterious ways, I guess.” Cece wasn’t big into the idea of fate. From what she had seen, if you didn’t take control of it yourself fate had a tendency to fuck you over. “Ah right, you are here after a shitty divorce, right?” Cece vaguely remembered the conversation from that night, though admittedly Winn’s stream of drinks that he was footing the bill for had kept her pretty tipsy the entire night. “From what I remember, he sounds like a real fuckboy. So good for you, girl. You deserve a lot better.”

Adults are harder to read than kids. Even if what a kid says is confusing their tone always gives them away, because they haven’t quite figured out how to change that yet. Cece laughs, and there’s an edge to it but Camille doesn’t know what that means- did she resent her parents for dragging her around the country when she’d have rather stayed in one place? Was it not fun for her? It’s really not her place to pry, of course. Big changes to your life were not always a good thing though, she understood that. “I suppose it must be cold, compared to Cali.” Cam grins ruefully, “I’m used to it. Boston isn’t quite as cold, but near enough.” And maybe she’d borrow one or two of those coats, just to mix up wearing the same outfits over and over again.

It was no small favor, putting a roof over her head and getting her out of that motel. Camille couldn’t remember the last time someone had done something so nice for her- of course, bar telling her colleague what a terrible person Jace had actually turned out to be she couldn’t really remember telling anyone about her problems either, so maybe that was why. “Adam was a fuckboy.” Camille corrects, shaking her head and smiling a little at the memory of him- she was still shocked someone his age would even want to flirt with her, as put on as it was- “Jace was a nasty prick.” She has a sip of wine, like even saying his name makes her mouth feel bad. “So the divorce was great, it’s the marriage that was awful.” That’s half true, the divorce could have also been better, but murder isn’t exactly dinner conversation. “I mean I was dating that guy since high school, we were perfect. Seriously- that best couple superlative thing at prom? We won it.” When life was all fun and games, Jace had been the ideal partner. Charming, likeable, energetic. It was when he realized he couldn’t be the star of the football team his entire life that shit went downhill. “I don’t know what happened. Spent over a decade trying to make him happy, woke up one morning and realized I hated him.” 

Camille wrinkles her nose, twirling more pasta around her fork and taking a bite before she talks again. “Sorry, don’t let me go on about it. It’s over, I’m good. New start.” She scrambles for a lighter topic, “so I know you work with Regan, but what is it that you actually do? Are you her assistant, or something?”

“It’s so fucking cold here, Cam. So. Fucking. Cold.” Even the summers had nothing on LA. Cece had been that annoying teen that spent all day on the bitch and only applied sunscreen once. Her skin wasn’t used to this lack of sunshine. It rebelled against her.

“Fair. At least Adam has a good attitude. I think he’s a himbo.” Cece nodded at herself, liking and accepting the comparison. Adam seemed like the type that respected women while wanting to bone them. Cece could respect that. This Jace dude on the other hand? Seemed like a dumpster fire personified. “Glad you had that epiphany. That freedom must feel so good after all these years. The offer still stands about fucking up his life. I love me a good revenge arch.” 

Camille didn’t seem to love talking about it, and though Cece did figure she’d get the full story eventually, maybe that was a conversation for another day. Maybe after they had been roommates for a longer period of time than a few days. “Me? Regan’s assistant?” Cece rocked her head back and gave a single, loud laugh. “I couldn’t be her assistant. I’d get fired so quickly.” Cece worked for Regan, but her saving grace was that Cece did her own thing at work. “I’m a toxicologist for the medical examiner’s office. It sounds fancy, but I spend most of my day running tests on urine and blood and every other bodily fluid you can imagine. Glamorous stuff, I know.”

Camille chuckled, shaking her head. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t travelled much. Jace and I went to Flora for spring break in classic fashion, Clearwater.” Despite herself she grins a little at the memory- it had been a good time. “I imagine this place might make you feel like an icicle after spending your whole life somewhere with that kind of heat.”

She had never been much of a gossiper, at least not about herself. It was a habit cultivated since high school- top of your class with the star of the football team on your arm? Your life is perfect and you’re the envy of every other kid there. End of story. Don’t tell your friends about the big fight you and Jace had, or how you had to stay up studying until you passed out at your desk to get that high score on the history test. The whole damn reason she worked so hard was so that people never knew that stuff. It was a lot harder to present a perfect facade these days, as a divorced woman with a shitty job, but Cam would do what she could.

Her eyebrows drew together in confusion. “A… Himbo? I don’t know what that is.” God, she was so old. She’d never had to say that before. But seriously, himbo? That wasn’t a word. Camille taught english lit! She knew all the words! Camille smirked at the offer, but shook her head. “There’s no one to pay his bills or get him beer out the fridge now, I think that’s probably gonna fuck him up enough.” That, and the fact that he was in jail for killing her. Rotten bastard. Couldn’t exactly tell Cece that, though.

Camille would admit to knowing next to nothing about science, but as an elementary school teacher she had seen the ways they tried to push young girls into softer interests, so she admired women like Regan and Cece who had pursued their passion regardless. “You have to follow what interests you.” She shrugged, “I could easily argue there’s nothing glamorous about teaching kids English lit but I loved it all the same.” It had been a good compromise; her desire to be an author and her love for children. 

“There’s a certain charm in staying still, I think.” Cece admitted. Before she had been forced to leave, Cece had never had much interest in leaving LA. She liked California, liked the atmosphere and the people. Her first time leaving had been more out of necessity and the opportunity to have people help her. That had obviously gone to shit. “But I come from a place of privilege in that. I’ve been able to travel around to get to say that planting roots is better. You might think the opposite.” For what it was worth, besides the fact that her ex husband was a complete fuckwad, she didn’t seem disappointed by the memory.

“Ooh, I get to give you an english lesson? How the turns have tabled.” Cece perked up. It was cute, Cam not knowing what a himbo was. “A himbo is an evolved fuck boy. They’re still stupid, cute jocks. Muscles like a god, but a single brain cell bouncing around that empty skull.” Cece waved her finger around her head as an example, “But they’re actually good people. Himbos don’t fuck with misogyny or homophobia or racism. They mix respect women juice in with their protein shakes.” Cece interrupted her speech by stuffing pasta into her mouth. “Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk.”

“Agreed. I can tell you’d be good with kids.” Camille kept a calmness about her, but had a quirkier side that Cece would have to work at pulling out. All in due time. “If you still love teaching so much, have you considered looking at the schools here? Seeing if there are any openings?”

Camille grinned and nodded- she’d had friends who’d taken off after highschool, figured out their way around the globe. Some of them came back changed with all these grand ideas and new goals for their life, others just rolled back into town with no money and no idea what to do next. She’d always figured it didn’t matter where you went, problems followed you anyway. “I always wanted to get settled somewhere myself, have a home and a family…” She trailed off sadly, unable to stop herself from remembering how hopeful she’d once been about it all. Buying that house and decorating with Jace, making plans to turn the spare room into a nursery one day. She shook herself out of the melancholy, taking a long sip from her wine glass. “I nearly went to New York for college, but decided on Boston instead.” Well, settled for. Because Jace got accepted there.

Really their elementary education programs were both wonderful, so it was fine.

She listened attentively as Cece explained the term, lips pulling up into an amused grin. “Oh, it’s a portmanteau!” Cam realized after a moment, “him and bimbo.” She nods, “I get it now. Strong and kind, but not the sharpest stick in the bunch. That’s a good one, I like it.” Had to be a term that the younger generation had coined, she wondered if Cece even realized how common of an english lit practice she’d adopted for her terminology. Cam smiles, “I’ve always liked kids.” Her good mood drops again, quickly, though. Working at a local school… Her identity, all her qualifications and achievements. They belonged to a dead woman, she couldn’t use them now. “It’s something I’ll look into, I think. When things are more settled for me.” She lied, “for the moment I just want to get used to a new town, focus on myself for a bit and what I really want for my future.” After pushing pasta around her plate for a minute Cam looks up, smiling. “What about your future? Is there a step up from a toxicologist, are you thinking about more qualifications? A PhD or something?”

Cece leaned back in her chair and tried to picture that for Camille. Cece herself had never much considered that sort of life for herself. Even back as a teenager, when her life was as normal as a girl growing up in LA could be, the idea of the white picket fence life had always been a bit too cookie cutter for Cece’s lifestyle. Now, Cece wasn’t sure she was cut out for it even if it was something she did want. Too much baggage, maybe. Or too little patience to deal with bullshit. Clearly, Camille had dealt with her fair share if she was no longer living the married life. “You’re still pretty damn young. No reason you shouldn’t be able to still have that. And this time we’ll make sure they’re not a giant bag of dicks disguised as a high school sweetheart.”

“A portman-who?” Cece questioned, eyebrow raising and a smirk crossing her lips. Cece wasn’t much for this shit, but loved Camille’s excitement about it. What an english teacher thing to do. “Yeah for sure. Let me know if I can help with anything. I have no connections to the school, but the two of us together? I bet we could charm the hell out of anyone we need.” Camille seemed to be over the conversation and promptly flipped it around back to Cece, questioning the career that Cece hadn’t given much thought to by herself. “Hmm… not where I am currently, not really. Working for a private company would probably get me more money. Or I could try to get in with the university. Write papers and teach some classes if I really wanted. I’m happy where I am though.” The idea of getting a doctorate was honestly hilarious to Cece and she couldn’t help the laugh building up before eventually bursting free, “God, no. Can you imagine? I couldn’t imagine expecting people to call me Doctor Bishop. I’m not pretentious enough.” 

Camille had spent years working towards the next milestone. Graduate highschool, then college, then start the perfect life. Had it all fallen apart so spectacularly to send her a sign? Was she pushing so hard to get something she couldn’t have? There were people everywhere with happy families, and she’d put so much damn effort into having hers. Was the world mocking her? Rip it all away and send her back to square one, just to see if she does the same stupid stuff all over again.

Well, maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe she’d say sod the man and sod the family and just do whatever made her happy! If she could figure out what that was. Was it marriage and kids? Not right now. Honestly the idea of being alone in a house with a man was the last thing she wanted right now. But one day, probably. She giggled a little at Cece’s choice phrasing, “well, if I meet someone I think is charming I’ll make sure to have them screened by you just to be sure.”

“A portmanteau.” She repeated, “a blend of two words. Y’know, brunch, podcast, smog, himbo.” Cam’s glad she doesn’t mind the shift in conversation- she would like to know more about the schools here, and how she might go about getting work in them, but there was no point giving that sort of stuff any of her time until she had the essentials figured out. Would Cece know anyone who could get her an ID? Regan was staunchly against helping Camille with anything illegal, but hopefully her new friend wasn’t quite so rigid as that, and willing to keep a secret. “It’s not about pretention, it’s about qualification.” Camille argued, “a doctorate would open up a lot of opportunities, if you were interested. I don’t think it’s pretentious to value your education.” Cece was so young, and already trying to strike off paths for her future without really considering them. “If teaching ever did interest you I could offer some pointers. Though I’ve never taught a university class, my advice might be a little too juvenile.” 

“I’ll happily screen any of your potential love interests. I have a rigorous testing regiment to ensure only the most worthy pass through. The others are sent away, broken of hearts and blue of balls.” Cece stated it wistfully as if she were writing it in some victorian style letter. She rested her face into the palms of her hands and stared in wonder at Camille as she defined and even provided examples of a portmanteau. “I love it when you talk literary devices to me. Very hot for teacher vibes.” 

Camille seemed passionate about Cece keeping her options open for this higher education thing. Honestly, Cece had never considered a doctorate as a viable career path for her. Completing her degree while constantly travelling had been enough of a handful. Trying to deal with four more years of schooling just had not seemed possible. But Cece wasn’t a wanderer anymore. She had settled down in an area with a good job, better connections and a college close to her. It was certainly something to consider, even if it didn’t sound like much fun. “Okay mom. I’ll keep my options open.” Cece couldn’t see herself teaching younger students. Not for any specific reasons, just because her specific interests in toxicology tended to be more specialized than elementary, middle or even most high schools tended to offer. “Please, I guarantee your job was a hundred times harder than anything a college professor deals with. I’d take your advice over them anyday.”

Camille wasn’t even sure what dating was like these days. How did you meet people? There were all the apps, but that seemed so impersonal. Was she meant to go to a bar? The first and last person to sidle up to her at such a location was Adam and they’d already gone through why that was a bad idea- oh god, was White Crest like a college town? Was she even going to find any viable older men here? Must start paying more attention to the morning coffee crowd to find out. She chuckled and shook her head, “funnily enough I don’t think it’s the kind of come on that’s going to work in the real world. I’m gonna have to figure out some new moves.” 

In highschool her move had just been walking right up to Jace by his locker one day and asking him if he wanted to ask her to the dance, and that had been that. Probably wasn’t the way to go about things as an adult. She sighed and stabbed her fork back into the pasta, “I’m just saying, you’re too young to be closing doors like that. You don’t have to do it right now obviously, but it might be something to consider later down the line.” Though teaching specifically was something Cam believed you should only get into if you were truly passionate about it- too many teachers did it for the wrong reasons and that was how you ended up with miserable classrooms. “Ah, true. I doubt many professors have had to explain to their students why they shouldn’t eat paper. I’d be happy to advise though, with further study and all that stuff, I do love a good excuse for a pros and cons list.” Plus helping with this kind of decision just felt like another way to balance the scales between the two of them, and Camille wanted the excuse to reminisce. She pushed her empty bowl to the side a little, “you’ll figure out what you want, anyway. You’ve got time.” 

Time- how much did Camille have? What would Cece do if she found out the truth? What if someone from Boston found out, or her parents decided to visit White Crest for a weekend? “I think I’m gonna have another glass of wine.” She decided, pushing out of her chair to retrieve the bottle from the fridge, “do you want one?”

“I’ll be your wingwoman any night. Once you want to get back out there.” Cece wiggled her eyebrows, always encouraging a one night stand or two to blow off some steam. It hadn’t been Cece’s style lately, a bit of her party years getting more than enough attention while she was with the coven. But Camille had been with the same man for years, and he sounded like a bit of a prick. She could probably benefit from a few wild nights to get her mind off of things. And Cece would be a bad friend if she didn’t tag along to make sure everything went smoothly.

When Camille broke the conversation for wine, Cece was more than happy to oblige. There had been way too much talk about the future tonight. Cece was trying to live day to day here in town. Thinking about what the future could hold was way too depressing. “Please, if there’s one thing you should learn about me it’s that you never have to ask if I want more wine.” Cece laughed, downing the rest of her glass and sliding it over towards Camille for a refill. “If you remember that then you and I are going to be the best of friends.”

#wickedswriting #c: camille #chatzy: camille #omg they were roommates #we're just gonna pretend im not crazy late on posting thing

[puckermansjake]

who: jake puckerman & lauren zizes.

where: apple orchard.

what: with a little convincing, the pair head off to an orchard to try out cider and to finally decide which is better; hot or cold. in case you’re wondering, it’s cold.

warnings: none.

The weather was surprisingly cooperative. Chilly, but not so much that Lauren couldn't enjoy herself. And she was, but that--unlike a fickle autumn--wasn't surprising. She normally had a good time with Jake, and liked being in his company. So it was worth the trip out to the local cider mill for what had been a small tour of how the cider came together--from it's apple beginnings to the hearty drink--which admittedly had been pretty cool to see, to now, standing in a line at the small outdoor souvenir shop beside the mill, waiting to finally taste the drink Jake had been hyping up since their initial chat. Stuffing her hands in her jacket pocket she turned to him and smiled. "So what's the best way to get the cider experience? Hot? Cold? Slightly room temperature?"

He wasn't all that surprised that he'd managed to talk her into tagging along, but was caught off guard by the smoothness of it all. It was fun, relaxing, and quite frankly, much needed. Bottom lip snaked between pearly whites as he smiled down at her, noting the light flush of her cheeks and the way her ways stayed buried in her jacket pockets. It was chilly, but he didn't mind it all that much. "Personally, I prefer it cold," he hummed, wondering how hard he'd have to try and pitch it. "We could just get one of each and let you be your own judge. Not that you're going to prefer the hot cider. My taste is on point, so," he trailed off, grin wide and confident.

"Stop looking so smug,"Lauren told him, though the scold held no weight considering her own smile forming. Jake seemed so pleased with himself, that his suggestion for the outing had turned out to be a fun one and she begrudgingly had to admit that even with the prospect of the cold, it didn't factor in at all with the fun she was having with him. "You get the cold, I'll try the hot. I make no promises to agree with your point til after we have our taste test." The smell alone was good though, apples and cinnamon and something fried that had Lauren pushing up on her tiptoes to peer ahead of their spot in line. "Ooh are those donuts? They smell amazing."

Her words only made him even more so, his smile light and wide. He enjoyed her company, perhaps more than he'd ever admit. It was nice getting outside of the comfort of her room or the library, even if the weather proved to be a challenge within itself. "I would almost put a bet down that you'll like the cold better, but then I feel like you'd choose the hot just to prove me wrong," he pointed out, brows rising in faked doubt. When it was their turn to order, Jake stepped up, wallet already in hand as he rattled off their order; one hot cider, one cold cider, and an order of hot donuts. Paying was the obvious thing to do, right?

It crossed her mind, doing just as he said, picking the hot no matter what, just to be difficult but Lauren figured it wouldn't hurt to give it all a fair shot, even if she did enjoy giving him a hard time. "I promise to keep an open mind, even though you are the worst when it comes to being right." Still, it was a nice gesture, Jake paying for their treats even as Lauren was reaching into her purse. She smiled at him, and gently nudged his side with her elbow. "Next time's on me." The last thing she wanted was him feeling like he had to pay every time they hung out. Lauren accepted the hot cider, instantly warmed by the insulated disposable cup and lovely spiced smell wafting from the small opening in the lid. "My hands are warm, I think hot might be edging out cold cider just off that alone."

"I'm the worst? C'mon," he exhaled dramatically, head shaking in a playful form of disagreement as they gathered their order. He wasn't quite sure what was more exciting; the cold cider or the look of sheer excitement on her face for what was to come. "I might just take you up on that." Whatever 'next' time meant, he was fine with it. Hands were chilled by the breeze and the coolness of his cup, but Jake stood by his statement and raised it to his lips. It was as sweet as he'd hoped for and somehow even more satisfying. "This might be better than getting laid." Except it wasn't, but damn, it was close. "Give it a try. I'll even hold it so you don't have to get your hands cold," he offered, cup in once hand, small tray of donuts in the other. "Ready to admit that I'm right?"

"I said what I said" she replied with a shrug. He was competitive but she liked that. Though telling him that would defeat the purpose of roasting him about it. Still, his suggestion for the outing had been a fun one so far. "'Better than getting laid'? Now I know you're windin' me up. It can't possibly--" She put her suspicions on hold to try the hot cider, taking a few small sips. The flavors were rich but not overpowering, and it knocked out some of the chill she'd been feeling, replacing it with a pleasant warmth. "That's so nice. Like a fuzzy sweater in a cup." She laughed and held it out for him so they could swap. "I'm not that big a baby about the cold" she said with a laugh, plucking the cold cider from his grasp and sipping from his cup. The hot cider was good, but the cold cider? It was refreshing and sweet but with a nice spice to it. Lauren knew Jake was watching for her reaction and she really didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was (sort of) right. Instead she swiped a donut from the tray and took a small bite, washing it down with another sip of the cold cider he was definitely not getting back. "I'm not admitting anything, thank you. Anyway, I'm not a donut person but these are really good."

"I said what I said," he mocked, the cider in hand being exactly what he needed to take off the edge of the chilly weather. He liked the cider, the mill, and most importantly, he liked Lauren. She was kind, ridiculously funny, and had a vibe worth melting for. It was refreshing, yet confusing all the same. "Fuzzy sweater in a cup. Weird flex, but it makes sense." Jake threw a single hand up in defense, happily swapping drinks with her before focus shifted entirely to her. This was the moment of truth, though he already knew what that was. Cold cider was the fucking bomb and even if she didn't admit it, he knew she'd think the same. Playing it cool, Jake took a quick drink of the hot cider, it's heat reminding him of his bed. Which was exactly where he'd be after they got back to campus. "Not admitting is the same as admitting," he shrugged, taking another drink of her cider before wondering if they'd swap back. Regardless, if she was happy, then so was he. "Pretty sure they use crack or something to make them addictive. You'll wake up in a cold sweat tonight wanting more." Accepting the loss of his cider, Jake bit down on his bottom lip happily, gaze frozen on her for a moment too long. Her smile was nice, her laugh even more so. Happiness was a good look on her.

"Okay, but I didn't not admit to anything either," Lauren singsonged, despite the fact that she still hadn't managed to return his cider. She'd give it back...eventually. Maybe after the donut. Which she had to agree there was something addicting in it. "If I wake up at 2AM craving donuts I'm blamin' you." The threat held no weight but she liked making shit difficult for him, because he only ever laughed at them, and admittedly she liked making him laugh. His easygoing manner vibed well with hers, even if he was insufferable about being right. As good as the cold cider was, her hands were beginning to feel the chill again so brushing the remnants of cinnamon sugar from her fingers, Lauren swapped their cups back, returning Jake's cider for her own. "I'm only conceding because my hands are cold."

"Well played," he pointed out with a grin, accepting defeat as best he could. With her, he didn't mind losing. Not that he'd ever admit that. As far as he was concerned, he was undefeated in every aspect and he had no intention of letting that change. "If you wake up at 2 AM craving donuts, I'll bring them over. Just let me know if the roommate is there, 'cause I might need a place to crash after that long haul," he joked, well, partially. Jake popped a donut in his mouth and washed it down with the hot cider, unable to complain about the lack of his drink while in her presence. The fact that she hadn't returned it sooner only meant one thing; that he was right. "Sure. Keep telling yourself that. I accept wins in every form." With his chilled cider back in hand, Jake took a long drink and sighed; damn, he loved this. "Thanks for coming," he finally released, voice a quiet rasp as gaze shifted to the drink in hand. He couldn't look at her, not when he felt his cheeks burn for reasons other than the cold.

Lauren wasn't entirely sure if was joking about getting her late night donuts but it was a nice gesture she was totally willing to take advantage of. "If you roll outta bed for me on a donut mission, I wouldn't punish you with my roommate's bed. The couch is way more comfortable. I might even concede that you had a point with cold cider, who knows?" In all the times he'd mentioned her roommate's bed (mostly complaints in passing), Lauren wondered why the subject of hers was never brought up. It was a little thing, a stupid thing, something she'd probably play off with a smartass quip anyway but at least she would've known it was on his mind, sleeping with her, even if it wasn't with her. Ugh It sounded completely foolish in her head, and annoyed, she brushed it off with a sip from her cup. It was easier to focus on their moment now, chilly but good, and Jake's sincerity and the way his gaze had fallen was hard to read but then again, he usually was. "Of course," she told him. "Thank you for inviting me. I like hanging out with you."

"Ouch. Here I was thinking you'd offer up your bed, but I get the couch. Guess I'll settle for that." As much as he hated to admit, not that he ever actually would, if she needed anything at all, he'd be there for her. Even if it was for donuts he'd inevitably have to go off campus for, and even if it'd prove to be a bit of a challenge. He liked seeing her happy, even if he didn't exactly know why. Maybe that was what it was like to genuinely care for someone, but then again, he felt like he cared for loads of people. There wasn't much he wouldn't do for Quinn or Tina, yet he didn't look at either of them the way he'd looked at Lauren. Swallowing hard, Jake's tongue fell over his bottom lip to lick away any trace of sugar that remained. Whatever the fuck he felt, it didn't matter. They were friends. "Most people do," he joked, gaze lifting to meet with hers. He could still feel the burning in his cheeks, but that could've easily been blamed on the chilled breeze. "I like hanging out with you, Lo. A lot."

"You complain about the twin bed so much I figured, the couch was an upgrade." Definitely easier to make a smartass remark. Especially when he responded to her with his typical cockiness, wrap in a joke that was still kinda charming, even when she wanted to roll her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. We can't forget about your adoring fans." Still, the jokes were easier to decipher, they came with a smile she didn't have to squint at, or words that felt like something more but she couldn't exactly work out. Face value was easier, no room for error there. And humor. She'd always default to keeping things light. "Most people do," she parroted back to him, though leaving a small smile and stealing another donut. "I'm one of the few people who probably know you're a big ass nerd about some cider, so I'll take that."

"It's getting colder out. Gonna need to be close to stay warm. Plus, the couch gets lonely." It was the typical excuse, one made of desire and curiosity all the same. She'd made it clear that she wasn't a conquest though and Jake respected that. "Just trying to get you to join the club. You're like the rare Pokémon everyone wants to catch." Geez, it was the lamest thing he'd ever said hands down, yet there he stood with all confidence and a wide smile. Eyes rolled at the returned and repeated words that had left his own lips moments earlier. Damn, was he that frustrating, or had he somehow reserved that for her? "Only person up here that knows that. Better keep that secret safe." Tipping his cup to her playfully, Jake took another drink to ease the growing feeling of warmth in his stomach.

"Sounds like you're tryna sell me on being your personal heater." She was messing with him, as usual, but the faint flush that tinted her cheeks wasn't entirely the cider's fault. But the image of Jake in her bed didn't linger, not when he was referencing Pokemon in the absolute corniest of ways but completely owning it with the kind of confidence that came with knowing just how effective a well-timed smile could be. "Wow," she drawled, unable to stop her laughter. "I have no words for that one. So it's not only cider you're nerdy about." Brushing the sugar from her fingers, Lauren leaned into him, smiling softly as dark eyes met his own. "Don't worry. You're secret's in good hands. I like knowing things about you. Corny Pokemon references. Cider enthusiast. You're not nearly as intimidating."

"Is it working? 'Cause a guy has to stay warm." He liked the idea of curling up next to her, as domestic and lame as it sounded. Passing out alone was getting old and having some random chick in his bed was too. It was exhausting and while he'd never admit it, maybe slowing down wasn't such a bad thing. It came with less expectations (to an extent) and far more consistent fun. If he locked down a chick who knew what she was doing, the fear of bad sex could be washed away entirely. "Watch who you're calling a nerd, nerd," he grinned, body warming all over as she leaned against him. Whatever her reason was, Jake was all for it. Even though it meant putting his cider out of reach, he curled his arm around her shoulders, offering a bit of his own heat against her to keep whatever cold away that he could. "Anything you wanna know, just ask. I might give you the truth," he trailed off, eyes rolling at the intimidating part. "You think I'm intimidating?"

"Ehh..." Lauren shrugged, unable to hide her smile, but at least she gave it some considerable effort."Not unless you start listing the benefits for me in this arrangement. I gotta know what you're bringing besides smooth lines and wandering hands." His arm around her shoulders brought an instant warmth, different from the cider but a welcome break from the chill. It hadn't exactly been part of her plan, getting closer to him, but it was definitely a bonus. "You don't wanna be called nerd, stop saying nerdy shit" she told him. The possibility of truth from him was a tempting one...if she knew where to start. Normally that invitation could bring out a line of questioning but it was hard asking someone anything, where she couldn't really gauge them. She did catch his eyeroll though and shook her head. "Not like that. I'm pretty good at reading people, usually. You're a lot easier to read than you think...sometimes. But there's times when you give like, nothing away. And that can be intimidating. And then, you'll say something and I'm like 'there it is'. This little part that slips out and it's so good and interesting...it makes me interested in knowing more."

Exhaling in a mock of playful frustration and thought, Jake smile down at her, unable to resist. "Wandering hands is just a form of warmth if you think about it. If you're really wanting the pros though, think about this: you'd get someone to make you laugh, an extra body heater for yourself, maybe even an extra pillow if you're into that sorta stuff. I'm a great candidate for that open spot." If it was even open, but he wasn't going to add that. If anything, she could write off his advance as nothing more than playful, which seemed to happen more often than not. Then again, he never truly followed through with anything. "You're nerdy shit," he shot back, brow raised in amusement at his own lame comeback. Way to show your true colors, Puckerman. "Didn't know you were so into trying to figure me out. Most chicks don't even bother asking anything. Guess after awhile you just go with what you know and what I know doesn't really involve a lot of talking," he admitted, feeling strangely vulnerable by the confession. "You're different, but I don't know, I like it. It doesn't bother me when you ask stuff. I kinda dig it."

"All those pros just to share a small twin bed with me, I feel flattered." Lauren shook her head and took a sip from her still warm cider. "You've got a pretty strong case there. Even with the nerdy pickup lines." It wasn't exactly surprising, learning this was new territory for him. The resignation in his tone was palpable, but also the vulnerability. And that intrigued her.  Because while she was sure it might have been the case with his rotation, keeping things to a strictly physical level, Lauren was sure there had to have been some girl at some point who wanted more. A scrap, some little detail about him beyond the surface shit. But here they were, sipping cider and him, admitting to liking her curiosity about him. And frankly, that confused her far more than the hints he dropped about her bed. "I'm just nosy," she replied, hopefully more casually than she felt, because she was still thinking on his words. "You're a very interesting guy, beyond the pretty package. I'm sure plenty of other girls you've talked to notice that. Even if they didn't ask about it. But I'm asking. Or, I guess listening. I like our talks."

"I don't make a pros list for anyone. Sue me for being curious and trying to sell it." With her arm secured around her, Jake gave her frame a gentle squeeze, careful to disturb her cider or his with the action. "My cases are always strong. Does that mean I don't have to slum it on the couch or what?" He still remembered the first time he'd offered to bunk with her and just how easily she'd put him on the couch. Now, maybe he stood a chance. She'd been nothing but kind to him since the start, minus the small argument they'd had over homecoming which had led absolutely nowhere but south. "You're not like the other girls I've talked to. You're more than a hot chick with an attitude. Even though you're definitely hot and you have an attitude sometimes," he pointed out, pausing to catch up with his thoughts. There was so much he wanted to say, but how did he say it without seeming overly lame or far too involved? "All I know is that I like chilling with you. Even if you're roasting me, I like it. For the record though, I'm also cool with what happened on the couch though," he added, quick to save his vulnerable ass from seeming too open. "I like everything else too."

"I'm not knockin' your method," she promised, giving his side a gentle poke with her elbow. "Just kinda surprised at the effort, is all. In a good way though. It's a solid case. I'd say there's a strong chance you won't have to suffer on the couch, next time we hang out." Listening to his ramble, sincere as it was....she had to admit a small part of her wondered how he'd even decided that whatever the vibe between them, it was worth the effort to further explore. She wasn't naive enough to think she was the first girl who'd tried to get to know him, but also not nearly jaded enough to think he was just saying it as a line. There was a genuineness to Jake, beneath the bravado that she'd glimpsed enough times in their interactions to know he'd meant it. And then he brought up the couch and her instinct was to duck her head because she'd been buzzed and curious and things had escalated on her initiation and she'd felt a little bit foolish afterwards, practically pouncing on him and feeling like she'd given a somewhat inaccurate idea of her expectations. He'd left things in her court, then, now...hell, anytime they interacted. "I'm glad to hear I didn't scare you off after pretty much pawing you on the couch," she replied with a quiet laugh. "I have a feeling the roasting's really what you're sticking around for, so good to know. There's very few people I'd let drag me out into the cold for fermented apples, so consider yourself lucky."

"So, can I come over tonight and see how my luck plays out?" He was joking mostly, but if she had no plans and wanted to chill, how the hell could he say no to that? "Y'know, for walking dead purposes. We're kinda slacking, but I've stayed pretty damn faithful and haven't watched a single episode without you. Haven't even Googled spoilers either." He didn't want to ruin the show, despite all the hype around it. He was taking it slow, just as they were doing things themselves. It was frustrating at times, but he enjoyed her company far too much to give up. Good things came to those who waited, right? "C'mon, it takes a lot to scare me off. For the record, that was a good night. For more reasons than the extra hand you gave me," he teased, smiling down at her. "I like spending time with you. Not 'cause I wanna bang, I mean, I would if you were game, but you're cool." There was a lot he liked about her, but laying it all out in the open left too much room for failure. "It keeps me humble." Sort of, but it also challenged him to be more of a handful than ever. "I got your attention, so yeah, guess you could say I'm pretty lucky."

Lauren had to hand it to him, he deserved points for being smooth. And she laughed loudly at his joke, drawing the attention of the few onlookers lingering nearby. "Nice. I have a study group tonight, so I won't be back til late. But tomorrow's good for me, if it works for you. I'm pretty impressed you've managed not to sneak a peek at any Walking Dead eps or spoilers, too." He had her attention, and judging from the way he kept slyly added hangouts to her schedule, she obviously had his. For however long that lasted, she wasn't sure, but Lauren didn't intend to get bogged down by the details. Instead she tossed her now empty cup into the nearby trashcan, leaving her hands free, and she leaned back into his hold once more. "Well aren't you being sweet. Can I blame that on a cider sugar rush?"

Despite his own schedule filling up rather quickly, he found himself wanting to make time for the female pressed so comfortably into his side. Between football Sunday's, football practice, study groups (which he didn't like doing), and everything else in between, his sophomore year was turning out to be rather busy. "Study group, huh? And you call me a nerd. Pretty sure I'm free," he shrugged, really not that much of a planner. He liked to wing it, though sometimes the method failed him. "I'm a guy of my word." As hard as it was to believe, when he dedicated himself to something, he meant it. Even if it damn near killed him not to Google out of curiosity. Once at the trash, Jake tossed the empty donut holder aside and switched hands for his cider, the container about half full as he lifted it to his lips before she slid back into his hold. "It's definitely the sugar rush." Or everything but, really.

The thought of group work was enough to make her sigh, but it was easy to shift focus back to the present moment, chilly as it was. "I'd much rather spend my night with you, watching Rick Grimes battle the undead instead of suffering through group discussions." Lauren was sure it wasn't entirely a sugar high. She was learning Jake had a sweet side, much as he attempted to play it off, and though it usually caught her off guard, the moments were nice to see. "Mhm. Sure. We'll go with that."

"Guess that'll make you want me that much more after a nerdy night of homework," he challenged, bottom lip caught between pearly whites as he thought about it. Maybe she enjoyed his company, maybe she didn't. All he knew was that he craved hers, so anything she'd give up, well, he'd take it. "Gotta cut back on the sweets. Makes me seem soft or something."

Lauren was tempted to roll her eyes, but settled her a small shake of her head and a smile that grew wider when she wrapped her arms around his waist. "You are so corny." It didn't stop her from leaning up, brushing her lips to his in a brief kiss. "You're a total softie. But don't worry, that secret's safe too."

What were they doing? Besides grabbing cider and digging a little deeper beneath the surface? Was it friendly? Was it more than that? He didn't have time to think about it, her lips catching his in a quick (far too quick) kiss. "Hey," he hummed, head shaking as he came to a slow and steady stop, unsatisfied. Without another word, Jake leaned down, lips catching hers in a firm kiss. He stayed there for a few seconds, lost in the way the sugar still coated her full lips. Friends didn't do that, but then again, nothing came conventional with him. "Consider that a token of appreciation," he exhaled quietly, eyes searching hers briefly.

Whatever she'd initiated, and Lauren could admit that it wasn't entirely rooted in platonic intentions, she hadn't expected Jake to further it, lips meeting hers in a kiss that  wasn't nearly as intense as the time during the homecoming party, in a haze of smoke. But it was sweet, and she found herself grinning when he pulled away. "I'll allow it," she told him, stepping out of his hold and pushing her hands into her jacket pockets for warmth. Or maybe to stop herself from doing something reckless, like kissing him again.   "For the record, I also accept cider donuts as payment too."

#para / all. #para / lauren.