CH. FORTY - ONE
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"Getting jealous because I was—oh—teasing Newt a bit is literally ridiculous. You're ridiculous."

"Yet you're squirming and whimpering all over the bed, woman."

"Well, maybe, but it's still ridiculous," she replies, crossing her arms. He's hovering over her, breaths also heavy, and she looks up. "Get off me."

Mixed emotions wash over his face. "...if you say so. Did I do something wrong?"

"Yes."

With a slight furrow in his eyebrows, he rolls off her, then sits up on the bed.

"You haven't taken your shirt off."

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, yet he doesn't hesitate. "Sure."

Joan takes him in with her eyes. The slight tan from working outside all day. The tensing muscles from carrying and building all day. The veins running down his arms. His toned stomach.

"Lie down."

His head tilts to the side. "I thought I was ridiculous."

"You are. So shut your ridiculous mouth and lie down."

"Why would I, tho—"

She shuts him up by pressing her mouth against his, leaving an annoyed groan in there, and slowly pushing him down on the mattress. The girl moves on top of him, keeping her lips where they are as her hands trail down to his, which are on her waist.

She slides them off there, no matter how bad that feels, and lies them besides his body. "We'll keep them there," she mimics his words.

"I want to touch you," he taunts quietly. "Feel you—"

"You will." But she keeps his hands pressed besides him. Her lips linger around his lips for a little longer, until she moves them over his jaw. Below her, she can feel his chest heave.

Grinning slightly, she kisses her way to behind his ear. His skin is soft against her fast pace. Smooth. Gives her more enjoyment in this. A hum leaves her mouth as she forces herself closer towards him, hips pressing deeper against his.

"Joan..." His attempt to move his head only allows a better reach at his neck, which she continues kissing until her lips are burning. Until her hands have gotten sweaty around Gally's. Until her thighs are squeezing together, and her breaths have heaved to the point where she has to take breaks between kisses. Yet she doesn't stop— it's too good. His skin, smell, the low sounds rising from his throat... everything.

A few minutes after she checked if he's even okay with this, a 'please' leaves his lips. She stops, raising an eyebrow as her breaths blow against his neck.

"Let me move my hands," he murmurs.

She lets go of his hands. Her own are also freed, so she uses them to lower herself. A sharp inhale above her when she kisses his collarbone, and his back is already arching a bit. The annoyed look on his face says enough; he hates how he's so effected by this, and she loves it.

Tingles run over her spine and basically her whole body as she lowers herself even more, kissing his stomach. Running her lips over his skin—muscles—and fingers over his sides. She looks up once she has reached his v-line. For a few seconds, he's able to hold eye contact, then he throws his head back.

Before his hips can buckle up, she has pushed them down. Inches back up, meeting his face, and kisses him on the mouth. His hands go from her lower back to the sides of her shirt. He takes it off her, tossing it somewhere on the ground, eyes only fixated on hers.

❀

In the morning, she wakes up before him. Feels how high her body temperature is under these sheets, not even talking about the warmth coming off him. Feels the need to shower. Feels how tangled her hair is, and how her neck is a tad sore.

Yet nothing convinces her to get up.

With an exhale, she watches him for a while. Relaxation is spread over his face. Features are soft. Eyes not narrowed, but peacefully closed. Lips not pressed together, but slightly open, allowing soft breaths out. Face not tensed, but at ease. Jaw not clenched, just loose.

It all sends a warm, fuzzy feeling into her stomach, and it grows to her cheeks, which turn red.

She scoots closer, readjusting his arm so it's even tighter around her torso, and kisses his cheek.

"And you say that I'm adorable."

His sudden voice causes her to jump, and if he hadn't been holding her that tightly, she would've fallen off the bed. "You could've told me you're awake!"

A smile forms on his lips, eyes squinting. "I could've."

"Should've."

"Would've, if you didn't look that cute."

The blush on her cheeks increase. "Cheesy."

"You love it."

"I do," she breathes out. Snuggling closer, Joan closes her eyes at his touch. Kissing might be awesome, but having nails run from your scalp to bare back is even better. "Mhm. This is gonna be a good day, I know it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Waking up by your side automatically means it's gonna be a good day. Don't you think?"

"I think that every day I get to talk to you, touch you, or see you is a good day."

"So you have a good day everyday."

"Yes. As long as you're there, for sure," he mumbles in her hair, kissing her head, then temple, and nose. "You smell good."

"I stole your shampoo."

He hums. "And you made vanilla body cream."

"True. You want it, too?"

"No. I only want to smell it on you. So I'll get used to it, but not on me. It'll remind me of you and you only."

Her whole face is red by now, and she has to stop herself from squealing. Instead, she smiles so brightly that her cheekbones hurt.

"Ow."

"What?"

"You just kicked me. But don't worry—"

"Oh, sorry," she peeps.

Mental note, only kick your feet when you're alone after a boy you like (and love) just said something very cute.

"It's alright." Gally rolls over a bit, stretching his back with a groan, then pulls her against his side again. "Good morning, by the way, woman." Then, "Gosh, I really need a better nickname."

"Why? I like woman."

"Need something cuter."

"You're saying women aren't cute?"

"No—"

"Sexist."

He purses his lips together, but then they break into a smile. "I mean, basically you're the only woman I find cute, but you're likely not eighteen yet, so I am able to say women aren't cute because you're actually a girl. But anyway— you know what I mean. Just a cute nickname."

"I thought you don't do cute. And—"

"I do."

"Well, that's a change—"

"You're cute."

While laughing, she rolls her eyes. "I mean, you act tough around the others, so you wouldn't even call me that in front of them, would you?"

"I would. I'll never be ashamed about something with you. They can go shuck themselves."

Butterflies make her stomach twist. "Alright."

"Sunshine?"

"Hm, I don't know. Love?"

"Newt would say that and I absolutely don't want to do whatever Newt does."

"Darling?"

He pulls a face.

"I don't know— baby? Sweetheart? There's many things. Sweetie? Honey?"

"Fry has called you honey. Funny, by the way. Of course it's related to food."

She laughs. "Yeah. But what for you? Hammer? Saw?"

He smiles, too. "Definitely not. Sweetheart's good, though."

"Sure. But it's weird now. Picking out a nickname. They'd have to go naturally."

"We'll see."