Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jackie decides to make a cooked breakfast for the both of them as her Mom is out of the house, which she knows Shauna will probably complain about once she wakes her up.

She decides on bacon and pancakes, simply praying that she doesn’t butcher anything.

Jackie can’t help but admire Shauna for a moment before she tries to rouse her. She looks so serene and soft like this, with her face smooshed against the pillow and a tiny bit of drool at the corner of her mouth.

It’d be so easy to just reach out and cup her sleeping face in her hand; to kiss her gently awake like in the romantic movies she’d seen. But she doesn’t. That’s a friendship line she won’t cross—as much as she might want to.

Jackie hesitates for just a second longer—just long enough to memorise the way Shauna’s eyelashes flutter slightly in her sleep, the way her lips part ever so softly. Unfiltered and unguarded.

The sight makes Jackie's chest ache in a way she can't quite name. She's never seen anyone like this—never wanted to see anyone else like this, either. No one else matters in the same way Shauna does.

Then she shakes herself out of it (because breakfast is gonna get cold) and reaches out to gently nudge Shauna’s shoulder.

“Shipman,” she sing-songs, “Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

Shauna groans something unintelligible into the pillow before burrowing deeper under the covers—as if that will make Jackie go away.

The sight fills her chest with a burst of warmth—and Jackie shakes her head a moment later, trying to chase away the butterflies in her stomach. This is getting ridiculous.

"Shauna! Up and at 'em, I'm making breakfast."

Shauna rolls onto her back at that, eyes peeking out from under the covers to meet Jackie’s gaze blearily—like some kind of pissed off baby owl, and Jackie has to fight the urge to ruffle her hair, or worse - kiss the frown off her lips. They had sleepovers almost every night but Jackie still can't get over the feeling of sharing a bed with Shauna.

"You are *not*. You're gonna burn down your kitchen again." Which is a valid concern. Jackie has a tendency to set things on fire.

This is gonna be fun.

“Uh, fine,” Jackie shrugs—keeping her expression nonchalant, “But if you don’t wake up now, I might just end up eating all the delicious bacon and pancakes I made allllll by myself.”

The reaction is nothing short of instantaneous—Shauna shooting upright like she'd been zapped by lightning.

"*You made bacon?*" Her eyes are wide and slightly feral-looking, and Jackie's heart melts at the expression.

"Why yes I did, Shipman," Jackie drawls, arching a brow, "And I'll burn that, too, if you don't get your ass out of bed in the next five seconds."

Shauna doesn’t need to be told twice—she’s on her feet in a flash, dragging Jackie toward the kitchen before she can even consider backing out. There’s still a pillow crease on Shauna’s face, and the half-asleep glaze to her eyes makes them look a little unfocused, but she’s definitely awake now.

They almost collide with the doorframe in their rush—Jackie narrowly avoids tripping over her own feet at the last second—and Shauna’s still clutching onto her arm like Jackie might try to escape at any moment.

Shauna's scowling at her still, and Jackie has to bite her tongue to keep from laughing—because she looks like a grumpy cat, all bristled up and ready to swipe.

"..Also, I may or may not have already burned one batch of bacon. But that just means it’s extra crispy now!"

Shauna's grumpy expression turns into a full-on pout at the news, the corner of her lips downturned in a way that makes Jackie want to squish her cheeks.

“I should’ve known,” Shauna grumbles as she’s led to the kitchen, “You can’t cook without me.”

It’s true—Jackie can't. Shauna usually handles all the meal prep duties whenever they have sleepovers, because Jackie can't be trusted not to accidentally burn the house down or accidentally cut her hand for the fourth time while chopping vegetables.

In reality, Shauna would never admit it, but she secretly loves the fact that Jackie is a walking disaster when it comes to cooking.

It's endearing—and gives Shauna an excuse to boss her friend around with no consequence. Jackie can never be mad at her when Shauna's teaching her something.

Jackie scoffs dramatically, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Excuse you—I can *totally* cook. I just choose not to because I don’t want you getting lazy."

She conveniently ignores the fact that she only ever cooks when Shauna is around to supervise. And by supervise, Jackie means actually do all the work while she pretends to be helpful.

"Besides," she adds, "You're lucky I didn't burn *both* batches of bacon."

A blatant lie—there was never a second batch. Jackie had panicked after blackening the first one and immediately started making pancakes instead before they could end up being cremated too.

Shauna’s unimpressed expression makes it clear she sees right through Jackie's bluff, but before either of them can say anything else—the scent of slightly charred bacon hits their noses at full force.

"...Oops?"

Shauna’s nose wrinkles as she eyes the smoky pan on the stove, then flicks her gaze back to Jackie—deadpan.

“You set off the fire alarm *again*, didn’t you?”

The telltale beeping is still faintly audible from downstairs, which means Jackie must have disabled it before Shauna woke up. Smooth.

Jackie throws her hands up in exasperation. “that was ONE TIME—"

Lie.

"—and I had it under control! Mostly.” Also a lie.

Shauna rolls her eyes so hard she almost gives herself a headache before nudging Jackie aside and grabbing the spatula out of her hand with practiced ease. “Move over,” she grumbles, “Before you actually burn down your house this time.”

Jackie doesn’t argue—just leans against the counter next to Shauna with that annoyingly smug little grin like she planned this all along.

...She probably did.

Shauna rolls her eyes with a long-suffering sigh, dropping into her usual seat and leaning on the counter with her chin in her palm, elbow propped up against the surface.

"Remind me why I ever let you cook again?"

Jackie scowls across the counter at her—the petulant expression making her look all of two years old—then sticks her tongue out at Shauna. It makes Shauna want to pinch her cheeks, but she resists the urge.

"Because you love me," Jackie says sweetly, adding, "Duh."

Shauna’s fingers tighten around the spatula for a second—just long enough for her knuckles to go white—before she exhales sharply through her nose and turns back to the stove.

"Yeah, yeah," she mutters, "Keep telling yourself that." Her voice is gruffer than intended, but there's no real heat behind it.

She flips a pancake with unnecessary force—sending it flying into the air in an impressive arc before landing neatly back in the pan. Jackie claps sarcastically from behind her.

"Wow. Someone’s grumpy today." Jackie leans against Shauna’s shoulder playfully, peeking over at the stove. "At least you didn't drop it this time." A low blow. Shauna had dropped one exactly once last summer and Jackie had never let her live it down.

Shauna shoves at Jackie's face with her free hand, ignoring how warm she feels under her palm. "*Shut up*, Jax."

And, yeah—Shauna does love Jackie. Even when she wakes her up way too early and almost makes her house uninhabitable. She’d never say it out loud, though.

Shauna’s saved from having to actually respond by the delicious scent of cooking bacon wafting from the pan—and the sudden realization that she’s starving and absolutely desperate to stuff her face with all the food possible.

Shauna reaches for a plate, dumping an obscene amount of butter and syrup on her pancakes before handing the bottle over to Jackie.

"Thanks," Jackie hums absently, taking the syrup and slathering it over her pancakes with the same single-minded intensity that Shauna's always teased her about.

The sound Jackie makes when she takes her first bite is borderline pornographi—she's always had a thing for sugary food. (Or maybe it's just the food combined with the sight of Shauna eating right next to her. It's definitely not that. Definitely not.

"Oh my god," Jackie moans around another bite, "These are actually amazing."

Shauna snorts—her cheeks puffed out with food as she chews—before swallowing and fixing Jackie with a flat look.

"Yeah, no shit," she says through a mouthful of pancake, "Because *I* made them." The pride in her voice is impossible to miss.

Jackie kicks at Shauna’s ankle under the table playfully. "Maybe I should wake you up at dawn more often," she muses, "You cook better when you're grumpy."

Another lie. Shauna always cooks well, but the grumpiness makes it funnier.

And Jackie loves watching her like this—sleep-rumpled and scowling but still making sure they both eat. It's domestic in a way that makes Jackie’s chest ache again.

She ignores it. This is fine. Totally normal best-friend behaviour.

"Don't even think about it," Shauna warns darkly before stabbing another piece of bacon with slightly more aggression than necessary.

Jackie just giggles, kicking her feet under the table happily like nothing could ruin this moment for either of them.

Nothing ever could).

A second later Shauna is rewarded for her restraint when Jackie groans in satisfaction, closing her eyes and looking dangerously close to rolling them in ecstasy.

Shauna's heart thumps against her ribs with such force that it almost hurts. There's a strange ache in her chest—an unfamiliar warmth spreading through her limbs as she watches her best friend savour the taste of the food she'd made.

There’s definitely something else to this—to watching Jackie enjoy an ordinary meal, to her messy hair and barely buttoned pyjama top and the syrup dripping down her chin—but Shauna puts that thought in her mental filing cabinet to examine later. Like everything else that's been popping up since she was about 10.

Shauna quickly looks back down at her plate, focusing intently on cutting her pancakes into precise little squares like they’ve personally offended her. Her face feels hot—*too* hot—and she doesn’t trust herself to glance up again.

She definitely didn't just imagine Jackie making that noise over something else. Nope.

"Good?" Shauna mumbles after a moment, voice rough.

A stupid question. Of course it's good; Jackie just told her it is a few seconds ago.

Jackie hums happily around another bite before grinning at Shauna—all dimples and syrup-smeared lips, which Shauna is absolutely not staring at. "The best," she declares easily, "Not that I expected any less from you."

And maybe Jackie means more than just breakfast. Maybe Shauna wants to read too much into those words—wants them to mean something beyond casual praise.

But she won't let herself hope for that.

Not yet, anyway.

A comfortable silence settles between them as they finish eating—only broken by the occasional clink of forks against plates and Jackie’s quiet humming of some pop song under her breath.

Eventually, Jackie leans back in her chair with a contented sigh—her plate clean save for a few stray crumbs.

“Okay,” she declares, You’re officially on breakfast duty from now on.”

Shauna shoots her a withering glare—but it loses all its effect when she’s still chewing the last bite of pancake.

"Dream on," she retorts after swallowing, "I'm not your personal chef." Even though she kind of already is.

Jackie gasps—clutching her chest dramatically like Shauna just shot her. "You wound me!" She slumps forward onto the table, head resting against folded arms as she peers up at Shauna with exaggerated puppy-dog eyes. "After everything we've been through?"

It's ridiculous. It works anyway.

Like always.

Shauna rolls her eyes but can't stop the tiny upward twitch of her lips. "...Fine," she grumbles, "*Occasionally.*”

Jackie licking her lips in triumph while Shauna tries not to be completely distracted by it—the blonde grins as she rises from the table.

"I'm taking a shower," she throws over her shoulder as she practically skips upstairs.

Shauna doesn’t even try to hide the fact that she watches her walk away—because Jackie is still slightly rumpled from sleep, and wearing a crop top and shorts that do things to Shauna’s brain.

The second the bathroom door shuts behind Jackie, Shauna sinks back into her chair.

Jackie is a whirlwind that Shauna finds herself hopelessly wrapped up in—the kind of person that leaves destruction in her wake wherever she goes. And Shauna is more than happy to live in her wreckage, because somehow she feels more alive than she does with anyone else.

She sighs deeply, running a hand through her tangled hair as she glances around the messy kitchen—the evidence of their sleepover still sitting there on the table, with pancake batter crusted on the counter and eggshells in the trash can.

It's a disaster—but it feels like home.

She lets out a long breath, trying to calm her heart—the one that keeps pounding against her ribs like it’s trying to escape. She stares at their breakfast plates on the table, still in mild disbelief that she just had a full-on domestic moment with Jackie.

A part of her brain wants to do this every morning—wants to sit across from Jackie at this table, eating and teasing each other while the sun shines through the window. And maybe that’s why Shauna doesn’t go back to sleep after her impromptu breakfast—because she wants every second of this to be real.

A few minutes later, Jackie’s humming drifts down from upstairs—loud and off-key as usual.

Shauna makes a show of rolling her eyes whilst gathering their plates—like Jackie is actively attempting to kill her with her singing.

She’s just turning the tap on to start washing dishes when she hears Jackie singing a little too loudly, as if to punctuate her point:

“Sha-u-naaaa! Where are youuuuu?”

Shauna sighs deeply, trying not to smile like an idiot.

“In the kitchen,” she calls back, her heart skipping a beat just from hearing Jackie’s voice (which is pathetic, but Shauna’s given up trying to convince herself otherwise.

Jackie’s footsteps thudding down the stairs—she’s humming louder than ever now, her voice carrying easily over the running water. She slides into the kitchen with all the grace of a newborn giraffe and leans against the counter, nudging Shauna with her hip.

“Hey stranger,” Jackie smiles, eyes sparkling with mischief, "Miss me?"

Shauna rolls her eyes, flicking some soap bubbles at her to hide how warm she feels whenever Jackie teases her like this.

“I think I preferred you when you were just humming,” she deadpans with no real bite.

Jackie just grins, leaning further into Shauna’s space and batting her lashes innocently.* “You know I sing better than that. You just can’t admit it.”

Shauna can hear the silent ‘to me’ tagged on at the end.

Before Shauna can muster up a sarcastic reply—Jackie is already brushing up against her side, her voice a bit too soft.

“Hey, Shauna… do something for me…?”

Shauna looks over at Jackie—trying to seem put-upon even after she’s already started rinsing off breakfast dishes—and her breath catches in her lungs. Jackie's face is close enough to kiss, her voice soft and full of something Shauna can’t quite put a name to.

Jackie wants something from Shauna—and Shauna finds that she's always willing to give it to her.

Jackie sounds serious, which makes her stomach swoop uncomfortably.

Jackie Taylor and ‘serious’ don’t really go together; they’re kind of an oxymoron, like Shauna and social events.

“Sure,” she says, wincing internally because suddenly her voice sounds thick and raspy, “What’d you want?”

She’s not sure she actually wants to hear the answer, but she’s also dying to know.

Jackie stares at her for a long moment; her usual bright energy is faded with a hint of tiredness lurking beneath the surface.

Then she leans forward and rests her head on Shauna’s shoulder—her hair tickling Shauna’s nose and leaving the sweet scent of her shampoo in the air.

“Can we just lay on the couch and talk?” Jackie’s voice takes on that whiny tone she knows Shauna can’t resist .

A beat of silence stretches between them—until Shauna’s brain catches up to the request.

Jackie. Wants. To. Cuddle.

Shauna feels like a deer in headlights, trying to remember how to breathe properly.

Shauna swallows hard, trying not to choke on her own spit—because Jackie just asked to cuddle like it was nothing. Like this wasn’t a rare moment of vulnerability from someone who usually pretends she doesn’t need anything from anyone.

And Shauna would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about this exact scenario before—but now that it’s happening, she doesn’t know what the hell to do with herself.

“Uh,” she manages, “Yeah. Sure.” Smooth. Very smooth.

Jackie beams at her like Shauna just handed her the moon and stars—which is ridiculous because all Shauna did was agree to sit on a couch with her best friend.

Except they both know it's more than that.

Jackie grabs Shauna's hand before dragging them both over to the living room—her fingers laced tight between Shauna's as if afraid she'll change her mind and bolt at any second.

As if there was ever any chance of that happening.

Shauna Shipman has never been able to say no to Jackie Taylor. Not once in their entire lives.

A few seconds later, Jackie is sprawled on top of Shauna with her head under her chin, breathing softly.

She feels lightheaded with Jackie's body pressed against hers—her arm draped casually around Jackie's waist, tracing small circles on the sliver of skin where her shirt has ridden up.

It takes everything she has not to let out a strangled moan as Jackie shifts slightly—her hips pressing closer to Shauna's and making it very difficult for Shauna to breathe properly.

Instead, she lets her fingers drift through Jackie’s wet hair—tracing slow circles against her scalp in the way Shauna knows she likes. Jackie hums contentedly, leaning into her touch.

Jackie nuzzles deeper against Shauna’s collarbone, letting out a quiet sigh—like she’s been holding her breath all morning waiting for this.

Maybe she has.

“You give the best head scratches,” she murmurs, voice muffled against Shauna’s shirt.

Shauna almost laughs at how ridiculously domestic this is—Jackie curled up on top of her like a clingy cat while they both pretend not to notice the way their hearts are hammering in sync.

She keeps running her fingers through Jackie's hair anyway—because if Jackie wants to act like this isn't making Shauna short-circuit, then Shauna can play along too. For now.

Jackie shifts again, turning her head so she can peer up at Shauna through those unfairly long lashes of hers. A lazy grin spreads across her face—one that makes Shauna’s stomach flip dangerously.

“What?” Shauna grumbles, pretending she isn’t blushing furiously under Jackie’s scrutiny.

Jackie just hums—too smug for someone who is literally using her best friend as a mattress—and props her chin on Shauna's chest. "Nothing," *she says breezily, "Just thinking."

A terrifying sentence if there ever was one.

"About?" Shauna asks warily, because Jackie saying that she is thinking is never a good sign for anyone involved.

Especially when that thinking involves looking at Shauna like that.

Jackie grins wider. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Chapter Text

The morning after yet another sleepover, Shauna lays on her bed and stares at her ceiling as she waits for Jackie to be done with brushing her teeth, and presumably her morning routine.

She almost jumps out of her skin when she hears a shrill shriek from Jackie, her mind immediately jumping to conclusions.

Shauna drops the book she'd been idly thumbing through, bolting to her feet and sprinting for the bathroom at full speed.
She throws the door open wide, eyes wild with adrenaline—

And stops short. Jackie is fine—perfectly fine (and very unclothed, which registers somewhere in Shauna's brain, but is promptly dismissed in the face of what's happening right now).

Jackie is fine. Great, even.

Shauna feels her whole body relax. Then—

Wait. Jackie is more than fine. She's gorgeous.

The overhead light casts a halo over her blonde hair, her skin practically glistening with dewy moisturizer, and it's all Shauna can do to keep breathing as Jackie whirls to face her.

Shauna’s chest is still heaving from the sudden sprint, her heart hammering against her ribs like it’s trying to escape. She blinks rapidly, trying to process the scene in front of her—Jackie standing there, flawless and glowing, one hand dramatically clutching her towel to her chest like she’s in some kind of soap opera.

Jackie pouts dramatically. “Shauna.”

Shauna swallows hard. “What?” Her voice comes out a little rougher than intended. Damn it.

“There’s a *spider*,” Jackie whines, pointing accusingly at the corner of the bathroom ceiling where—oh yeah—a tiny eight-legged terror is just... sitting there. Menacingly. The tiniest spider Shauna has ever seen.

Shauna exhales sharply through her nose and crosses her arms over herself (an unconscious defence mechanism against how soft Jackie looks right now—soft skin, soft hair, soft lips pressed into an exaggerated frown that Shauna wants to kiss off of her face).

Shauna is so busy trying to not think about Jackie's naked body that she completely misses the panicked look in Jackie's eyes. She just stands there like a deer in headlights, her gaze slowly dropping down to where Jackie's hand rests on the sink, fingers spread wide.

"So..?" Shauna asks intelligently, and Jackie's voice is almost hysterical as she answers.

"Kill it."

Jackie shudders visibly—and Shauna's heart does a pathetic little flip in her chest at the sight. It's ridiculous how endearing she finds her friend's aversion to spiders.

"Kill it!" Jackie repeats, a tinge of anxiety slipping into her tone as the spider scuttles a few inches toward them. She's clutching the front of her towel like a lifeline now.

Shauna blinks. Oh, right. She's supposed to be killing the spider—not checking out Jackie's (very pretty) collarbones. Definitely not doing that.

Shauna rolls her eyes, hiding her amusement as she steps forward and carefully brushes the spider onto her hand. It scurries onto her thumb, tiny legs tickling against her skin.

Jackie squeaks in surprise, and Shauna can't help but grin as she takes a few steps toward the window. She slides it open, careful not to drop the spider.

Shauna pauses for a moment, holding up the spider for Jackie to see—just to make her squirm, because Shauna can be kind of mean when she wants to be.

Jackie squeaks again and covers her eyes; Shauna's grin widens.

With a flick of her wrist, Shauna sends the spider sailing out the window and onto freedom.

“Done.” She shuts the window.

“It was literally the size of my fingernail,” Shauna deadpans. “It’s not gonna bite you.”

Jackie huffs in relief and lowers her hands, fixing Shauna with a petulant glare with zero heat behind it.

"Shut uuuuup," Jackie whines—but there's no real heat to it. She's still clinging to her towel, cheeks flushed from their little adventure.

"Whatever," she huffs, "Just... don't tell anyone about this, okay? Pretty sure I've hit my embarrassing quota for the month."

The sudden vulnerability in her voice makes Shauna soften immediately. All traces of teasing drain away. "Hey. Your secret's safe with me, alright? I promise."

The relief that floods Jackie's face makes Shauna's heart stutter. She's always been weak when it comes to making Jackie feel better.

And really, Shauna is the one who should be apologising now. But her brain is still caught in a whirlwind from seeing Jackie like this—barely covered, skin flushed and damp from the shower, the way she smelled like her flowery shampoo.

Shauna clears her throat, suddenly aware that she's probably stayed standing here a little too long.. But Jackie…

Oh god. Is she stepping closer?

Shauna swallows hard, trying to maintain some composure as Jackie crosses the bathroom, still holding the front of her towel in a vice grip. Up close, it’s even harder to not stare at how exposed Jackie is, how her wet hair clings to her neck, water droplets trailing down her chest…

Shauna’s palms are starting to sweat. Maybe her mom is right. Maybe she does have a hormonal imbalance. Or something. Then she speaks before she can stop herself, like always:

“..Jackie… you’re so pretty…”

She hates how breathy her voice is. How it basically says everything that she’s trying to hide.

Jackie's eyes widen in surprise, but she doesn't step away. Instead, she cocks her head at Shauna and gives her a sly, lopsided grin.

"Well, duh. Did you just figure that out?"

And the teasing way she says it—the glint in her eye, the way her gaze keeps flicking down to Shauna's lips—makes the tension in the air palpable.

Shauna can't breathe. But she wants to answer. Wants to say something.

Instead, her gaze drops down to Jackie's lips. Her face is just inches away.

Shauna looks flustered for a moment, and Jackie feels a flicker of pride at being able to rattle her best friend this way—even if it's only because she's completely naked besides a towel.

Then Jackie laughs softly, and everything around them seems to stop. She steps forward again, closer than ever now.

"You're not so bad yourself," she murmurs, fingers reaching out to brush against Shauna's arm.

Shauna feels the ghost of her touch long after Jackie pulls her hand back.

"Jackie—“

She wants to ask about Jeff, even though she already knows that he doesn't really matter. Wants to ask why Jackie is looking at her like that, wants to ask if the air is as electric for Jackie as it is for her, if her chest is also burning with every breath.

But her throat feels like it's seized up, her brain a tangle of questions and what-ifs and Jackie-Jackie-Jackie.

So Shauna does the one thing that comes naturally to her—she takes a step forward.

And then Shauna is cupping Jackie's face—gently, like she's the most precious thing in the world—and kissing her properly. All of the pent-up desire for Jackie that she’s been trying to push down for days comes rushing back—full-force—and Shauna moans softly into her mouth.

The kiss is a little awkward at first, all sloppy lips and too-much teeth and tongue. Shauna has no idea where to put her hands—they end up tangled in Jackie's damp hair, tugging gently at the roots, and she can feel Jackie's sigh against her lips in response.

Shauna's brain can't really form a coherent thought at this point. But that's fine, because all she wants to focus on right now is this—the warmth of Jackie's body against hers, her... the smell of her hair... the little gasping sounds that Jackie makes as Shauna's tongue slides along the seam of her lips. Jackie is so soft—so completely and utterly kissable—that Shauna loses herself briefly in it.

Shauna has to force herself to break away before she gets carried away (but god if she isn't close), breathing heavily against Jackie's lips as her hand cups Jackie's neck. "Wait," she breathes, "I don't wanna—"

Jackie whimpers—like actually whimpers, fingers clutching helplessly at Shauna's flannel shirt before she finally gathers the presence of mind to step back. A beat passes as they stare at each other, the sound of their breathing filling the tight space between their bodies.

Shauna licks her lips, swallowing hard as she tries to fight the flush that's creeping up her neck.

Finally, Jackie breaks the silence with a breathless, “..you don’t want to…?” She still sounds a little dazed. Maybe a little hurt.

"I—" she flounders, "I do. I definitely do. But you *just* got back together with Jeff and—"

Shauna is trying so hard not to stare at Jackie, so hard not to think dirty thoughts, but her friend is not making this easy.

"And—and you just came out of the shower, and we're like, in the middle of my bathroom—and we really shouldn't, I think—" she's rambling now; her hands shake a little from the nervous energy and from holding back from touching Jackie for so long.

Jackie’s expression does something complicated—flickering between amusement, frustration, and something tender that Shauna can’t quite name.

“Shauna.” She steps closer again—deliberately slow this time—until their bodies are nearly touching. Her fingers toy with the hem of Shauna’s flannel. “Jeff doesn’t matter. Not right now.”

A beat. Then—

“Do you want me to stop?” Jackie murmurs, “Because I will. If you tell me to.” Her breath is warm against Shauna's lips.

But she doesn't step away.

And all Shauna can think about is how much she wants to make this girl feel good. Make her whole world tip on its axis. Maybe it’s a little too ambitious, but..

*“God, no,”* Shauna breathes, her hands reaching out to settle over Jackie' waist.

Shauna leans in again, and the kiss is different this time—still a little sloppy and hungry, but with a lot more confidence. Her fingers dip up beneath the edge of Jackie's towel, feeling the slight curve of her ass. Shauna pushes against Jackie's body, feeling the way Jackie's back presses against the bathroom counter.

There's no going slow now. She wants Jackie—in every way she can have her, preferably all at once. Shauna’s breath hitches when Jackie’s nails scratch her stomach, a shudder running through her body, desire pulsing low in her core.

And Jackie makes a noise then—low and needy—that sets Shauna’s blood on fire.

Shauna breaks the kiss, but only to press kisses along Jackie’s jaw, teeth grazing her neck just to feel Jackie shudder against her.

“Shauna..” Jackie breathes, and the way she says her name makes Shauna feel so.. so many things. But the most overpowering right now is the pure, unadulterated lust she feels.

Jackie pulls away briefly, panting for breath with her head tipped back. Their foreheads bump together, and Shauna can feel the steady rise-and-fall of Jackie’s chest.

“Bed,” Jackie says, her tone almost commanding. She nips at the edge of Shauna’s jaw, “Now.”

Shauna has a fleeting moment to worry about anyone walking in—then Jackie’s hand is wrapped in her flannel and pulling, and she can’t focus on anything at all besides getting to her bedroom.

They stumble back down the hall, Jackie’s hands fisted in Shauna’s shirt, their lips barely parting as they trip over discarded laundry and textbooks.

Shauna practically throws herself backward onto the bed when the back of her knees hit the mattress—Jackie falls on top of her with a breathless laugh, golden hair spilling over Shauna’s face like sunlight.

"Christ," Shauna groans as Jackie straddles her hips, thighs squeezing tight around her waist. The towel has slipped dangerously low—Shauna can see everything. Her mouth goes dry.

Jackie smirks down at her—that stupid, beautiful smirk that makes Shauna want to both throttle and worship her. "You talk too much," *she murmurs before leaning down to kiss the words right out of Shauna's mouth.

And then neither of them are talking at all.

The way Jackie kisses her might be enough to make her explode. Her blood is thrumming—she feels like she’s burning. Every swipe of Jackie’s tongue leaves Shauna wanting more. More, more, more.

Shauna wraps her fingers in soft strands of gold, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. Jackie grinds against her again, her little moan swallowed by Shauna’s lips.

Shauna needs more. Needs so much more.

She wants to map out every inch of Jackie's body with her hands, wants to know every curve and edge and slope. But for now, she'll just have to settle for tracing a path along Jackie's collarbone with her tongue.

"Jax, I want to.. to.." She trails off uselessly.

Jackie nods eagerly then—the permission that Shauna needs to slide her hand beneath the hem of the soft, fluffy towel and tug.

The towel unspools easily, and when Jackie is fully exposed above her, Shauna is hit with that same visceral urge to just look at her, to take in every freckle, curve, dimple. She's a little overwhelmed, actually, with the need to memorise every millimetre of Jackie's body (and a lot overwhelmed by the urge to run away or hide her face, for some reason, but she ignores that part.)

*"You're staring,"* Jackie murmurs, but she doesn't sound upset—just a little breathless. Her cheeks are flushed pink, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she waits for Shauna's reaction.

Shauna swallows hard and forces herself to meet Jackie's gaze. "Sorry. I just..."

She trails off again because words are failing her spectacularly right now. What is there even to say? That Jackie is the most beautiful thing she's ever seen? That Shauna wants to touch every inch of her with trembling hands?

Instead, she reaches out—slowly, giving Jackie time to stop her if this isn't what she wants—and lets her fingertips trace the delicate curve of Jackie’s ribs.

Jackie shivers at the contact but doesn’t pull away (*thank god*).

“Do you like what you see?” she teases lightly.

Shauna might combust.

Then Jackie’s hands are fumbling with the buttons on Shauna’s flannel, popping them open—one by one—as she peppers Shauna’s face with butterfly-light kisses.

“I need you.” Jackie says, her hands tugging insistently at the shirt. Her voice is quickly becoming an almost-whine, her lips barely pausing between kisses, like she’s physically incapable of stopping—not just for air, but to fully articulate her thoughts. It’s—well, Shauna doesn’t have the brain function to think about it all in too much detail.

The words are sweet torture—Shauna feels like Jackie just cut through her chest and yanked out her heart.

Shauna’s flannel is open—her plain white undershirt quickly follows—and then it’s Jackie’s breath that catches as she finally pauses, fingers trailing lightly over Shauna’s stomach. She feels a jolt of self-consciousness at the attention—but it’s quickly overwhelmed by the need to have her hands everywhere else on Jackie’s body.

Shauna has never wanted anyone—ever—as badly as she wants Jackie right now. It’s something beyond hunger—something that runs so deep it’s practically in her bones.

Jackie pulls away, pupils blown. “What? What do you want, Shauna?” She’s panting. And God, it’s hot.

Shauna lets her hands slide over Jackie’s body, feeling her impossibly soft skin.

“I want to touch you,” Shauna manages. “I’m not sure how… but—“

But Jackie seems to understand. She shifts and rolls onto her back, stretching languidly, and oh. Shauna’s mouth goes dry at the sight.

Shauna slides down the bed, pushing Jackie’s thighs apart and peppering kisses along her inner thighs. She pauses to nip at the delicate skin, and Jackie gasps—thighs squeezing and body arching off the bed. And then Shauna’s tongue is on her, and Jackie’s fingers are in her hair, and nothing else matters at all. Except this. Except Jackie. Jackie, Jackie, Jackie.

It’s all heat and tongue and *just enough* teeth to make Jackie see stars. Shauna works her with single-minded devotion—like nothing else exists but the sounds she pulls from Jackie’s throat.

“Oh my god,” Jackie pants—breathless. “Shauna.”

Shauna looks up at her from between her legs, licking her lips in a way that looks absolutely sinful.

“Don't stop.” Jackie breathes, nails raking over Shauna’s scalp.

Shauna's hand slides up, over smooth curves, as Jackie's chest heaves with desperate pants. And Shauna can't help but watch her face—how her mouth drops open in silent pleasure, one hand grasping desperately at the sheets—

The air in the room is thick—charged—as Shauna finally lifts her head from between Jackie’s thighs, lips slick and breathing laboured. Jackie is trembling beneath her, hair fanned out like a golden halo against Shauna’s crumpled sheets.

Shauna feels a rush of pride at the way Jackie can barely keep her eyes open. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand before crawling up Jackie’s body, pressing soft kisses to every patch of skin she can reach on the way—her stomach, ribs, collarbones.

Jackie pulls Shauna into a slow kiss when their lips meet again—tasting herself on Shauna’s tongue. It should be gross (*right?*) but it just makes something primal uncoil low in Jackie’s belly instead.

God.

“Holy shit,” Jackie breathes against Shauna's lips when they part for air, “Where did you *learn* that?” Her voice is hoarse.

It takes everything in Shauna not to say that she managed to work up the courage to ask Nat about it fully seriously last weekend.

"Just... figured it out," she mutters instead.

Jackie stares at her wordlessly, trying to calm her still shallow breathing.

Shauna's pulse is racing, her palms are wet, and she's pretty sure she's going to faint if Jackie keeps looking at her like that. Like Shauna's the only thing in the world that matters.

Shauna wants to hide her face—all of this is so much, so fast—but Jackie reaches out and cups her jaw, making Shauna's skin heat beneath her palm.

Jackie's lips are swollen and kiss-bitten, her eyes hooded and dark. Shauna stares at the curve of her mouth, at the soft sweep of her lashes, at the soft freckles dusting her cheekbones. And then Jackie smiles—slow and lazy and full of promise—and that's it. That's all Shauna can take.

She leans in—braces herself with a hand on the mattress—and presses her lips gently to Jackie's cheek. But then Jackie shifts her head, and Shauna's mouth is suddenly against her neck; she sucks at Jackie's pulse point, not caring if it leaves a mark.

"Shauna," Jackie sighs breathily, right into her ear.

It’s barely even a word—just air, just sound—but Shauna feels it reverberate through her like lightning. Jackie arches under her touch, fingers tightening in Shauna’s hair as she whines.

Shauna pulls back just enough to take in the sight of Jackie beneath her—flushed and desperate and entirely hers. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of this: the way Jackie trembles when Shauna touches her, the needy little sounds she makes when Shauna presses kisses to all the right places.

“You good?” Shauna murmurs against the shell of Jackie's ear before dragging teeth along its curve.

She can already guess the answer.

Jackie exhales sharply through her nose as if gearing up for something scathing—but then melts back into a moan instead when Shauna palms at one perfect breast. "Y-yeah," she manages after a beat, "Just... shut up and keep going."

So she does.

Shauna's hand dips lower, fingers trailing down, down—slowly—until she finds what she's looking for. Shauna's stomach swoops at the feel of Jackie's wetness coating her thumb, at the way Jackie keens softly beneath her.

The first touch is tentative, just the pad of a finger gliding against her clit. Just testing. Just teasing. And Jackie grinds against her, biting her lip as she stares up at Shauna with pleading eyes.

Shauna's stomach is swooping again—but for a different reason.

The look in Jackie’s eyes is almost desperate, like all her carefully constructed walls are coming down and Shauna is the only thing keeping her grounded.

It makes Shauna feel a little dizzy, to be honest. A little unsteady.

But Jackie is still watching her, hips shifting against Shauna’s thigh like she can’t help it. And God, Shauna wants to see her come apart.

Shauna starts moving her fingers—slow, deliberate strokes. Slow enough to make Jackie groan and tighten her hands in Shauna’s hair.

“Please,” Jackie gasps, her whole body thrumming beneath Shauna’s touch. “Please, Shauna, I—”

And Shauna wants to hear all the things that come after that please—but also, Jackie isn’t exactly thinking clearly right now. It’s a little cute that she’s already falling apart so quickly.. but Shauna decides to be a little mean. Just a little.

Because Shauna wants to savour this.

She stills her hand, just for a second—enjoying the way Jackie looks frustrated and confused under her. Then Shauna slides her fingers down, down, until she can dip into her. One finger, followed by another, and Jackie is panting and pushing against her; her grip on Shauna's hair tightening, almost painful, but not in a bad way at all.

The sound of pleasure that rips out of Jackie's throat when Shauna curls her fingers makes Shauna feel like she's going to go up in flames.

Shauna moves her hand away, grinning wickedly at the way Jackie whimpers. She leans in, teeth scraping along Jackie's neck. Slow, lazy, deliberate.

“I think I like you desperate, Jax.” Shauna breathes softly—then nips at her earlobe before leaning back again. She wants to devour Jackie—wants to eat her alive.

Jackie makes a high, wounded sound—her whole body tensing before going pliant against the mattress. She glares up at Shauna through half-lidded eyes, but there’s no real heat behind it.

Shauna grins down at her—all teeth and trouble—and slowly drags her fingers through Jackie’s slick again, circling her clit in teasing strokes just to watch Jackie squirm.

“You’re *evil,*” Jackie gasps—but she arches into the touch anyway, breath hitching when Shauna finally slides two fingers back inside. The stretch is perfect; tight and wet and making little obscene noises that go straight to Shauna’s core.

Jackie claws at Shauna's bare back almost painfully.

Shauna can't help the way her own hips twitch at the feel of Jackie gripping onto her like that, desperate and tight. The pain is sharp—but good, grounding.

It burns, but Shauna doesn’t care. She just leans down to bite at Jackie’s shoulder, her neck, her chest, marking her—as if she belongs to Shauna. Not Jeff.

Not anyone else.

Shauna’s own breath catches as she shifts a little to angle her hand just right, curling her fingers inside of Jackie. She knows that she should probably say something—but the sight of Jackie like this makes her tongue feel about ten sizes too big for her mouth.

Shauna settles for kissing along the column of Jackie’s throat instead.

She leans down to kiss Jackie again, swallowing every little gasp as she picks up speed—thrusting deep before curling her fingers just right on each drag back out.

Jackie falls apart beautifully.

It doesn’t take long after that—not when Shauna keeps up this rhythm while sucking a bruise into Jackie’s neck. Not when she *knows*, instinctually now, exactly how to move to push Jackie over the edge.

A few more strokes and—there. She feels it: the way Jackie clenches around her fingers, body tensing before shuddering with release beneath Shauna's touch.

"Fuck," Jackie breathes out in one trembling exhale, "Fuck."

Shauna's pretty certain she's never going to be able to hear Jackie curse again without picturing her in this state—hair fanned out across the pillow, chest heaving with breath, lips parted.

Shauna can’t help the way her chest swells with a little pride. She’s the one who did this to Jackie—made her fall apart, made her swear. And then Jackie is curling into her touch, pressing her face into Shauna's collarbone.

Shauna pulls her hand back and Jackie makes a soft, contented sound in response. She kisses Shauna's shoulder, then her neck—softly, lazily—

“I told you I wanted to do that,” Shauna drawls in a low voice, grinning down at Jackie as she lets her hand rest on her thigh.

Jackie rolls her eyes.

”Shut up,” she grumbles, even as she leans up for a kiss.

Chapter Text

Shauna and Jackie sit in science class, and Jackie is very bad at not looking back at Shauna with a smirk on her face when literally anything happens.

It could be the fact that the chalk makes a stupid squeaking sound when the teacher presses down on the board with it, or when someone suddenly sneezes way too loud, and Jackie would simply turn around with a little grin and make Shauna have to scowl down at her book like it personally offended her to stop herself from smiling away like a madwoman.

Shauna can feel Jackie staring at her for the entire class—feels the heat of it settle in her stomach even as she keeps her gaze firmly trained on their assignment.

But they still have another hour left in class, and Shauna’s attention span isn’t exactly working at full-speed. She’s been doodling in her notebook for twenty minutes—bored stiff—but every single thing Jackie does brings her mind right back into the present.

It’s distracting. It always is.

And she tells herself she hates it—hates that Jackie always wants to be the centre of attention, always needs to make a big deal out of everything like she has something to prove.

But Shauna’s also a liar and a masochist, so she can’t stop herself from shooting Jackie an annoyed look through the corner of her eye when the chalkboard squeaks again.

Because she knows what a single glance at Jackie will do to her—will turn her into a lovesick mess who can’t keep a straight face long enough to make it to the end of the lesson.

Especially when Jackie keeps making *that face* at her—the one that says ‘oh yes, I’m very aware that I’m being distracting and I find it absolutely hilarious.’

“What?”

The grin gets even wider as soon as Shauna finally gives in, and the look Jackie is wearing could be described as nothing less than ‘delighted’.

“Absolutely nothing,” Jackie says, her voice sickly-sweet, with a slight lilt in it that lets Shauna know that she’s having way too much fun at her expense right now.

Leaning in just slightly too close, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper “Just thinking about how tragic it is that your notebook is getting *so* abused right now. Those poor margins never stood a chance against your existential scribbles." She grins, tapping her pencil against Shauna's wrist.

"Also, if we fake a simultaneous bathroom emergency in exactly..." she dramatically checks an imaginary watch "...three minutes when Mr. Johnson turns around again, we could totally make it to your car before the sub realises his attendance sheet is fucked." She bites her lower lip, eyes flicking to Shauna's mouth for half a second too long "Just saying. I've got that new Mariah tape you pretend not to like in the deck."

Shauna feels her traitorous pulse jump at the brush of Jackie's pencil against her wrist, even as she rolls her eyes hard enough to hurt. She snaps her notebook shut with a pointed thump—though not before surreptitiously covering the page where she’d unconsciously doodled "J + S" inside a lopsided heart for the third time this week.

Shauna’s heart does a stupid little flip-flop at Jackie’s obvious flirting in the middle of their class, and her entire face turns red.

“Oh my God, stop looking at me,” Shauna hisses, giving Jackie a tiny shove in her seat, looking around to make sure no one is watching the two of them.

Shauna huffs, but the corner of her mouth twitches. Because that’s the thing about Jackie—as much as Shauna wants to act like she’s above her antics, she can never hold on to her pretend irritation for long. Especially when Jackie makes such terrible suggestions.

So tempting, but awful all the same.

“I’m not pretending anything,” she insists, even as something in her chest warms at the idea that Jackie’d remember something as simple and obvious as her thoughts on Mariah Carey—because yeah, she may have dramatically sighed through exactly three car rides blasting that album before begrudgingly admitting one (1) song was 'okay' while Jackie cackled like she'd won something.

Jackie laughs under her breath at Shauna's predictable and frankly adorable attempt at deflection, watching as the blush creeps up her cheeks.

And the tiny shove she got was nothing but a gentle love-tap to Jackie, but she pretends to be hurt anyway—overly dramatic, of course—because they are still in public and Shauna's still a bit skittish about any sort of affection that isn't hidden behind a closed door or an empty hallway in school.

"Wow. First of all—blatant lie, I *saw* you mouthing the words to 'Always Be My Baby' last week when you thought I wasn't looking." She flicks a strand of Shauna’s hair over her shoulder like it personally offended her "Second of all..." Her voice drops again, smirk turning wicked as she tilts her head toward the door "...if we go *now*, I'll let you pick which crappy gas station we stop at for contraband Slurpees after. And by 'let,' I mean...watch miserably while you get that radioactive blue flavor that makes your tongue look like Smurf roadkill."

She nudges Shauna's knee under the desk with hers—lingering, just to be annoying—before adding innocently. "Y'know. If hypothetical people were into that sorta thing."

Shauna opens her mouth to protest—because *everyone* knows that Mariah song, and it is literally impossible to *not* sing along to it, it's a scientific fact—but whatever sarcastic response she had planned gets cut off when Jackie's knee bumps into hers. There're a couple layers of denim between them, but Shauna still has to fight back the shiver it elicits, and she finds herself glancing at the door again.

Shauna can't even remember why she was annoyed with Jackie five seconds ago.

“Fine,” she grinds out, knowing it’s pointless to resist—because who is she kidding? Her willpower is essentially nonexistent when it comes to Jackie.

“But you’re buying,” she adds stubbornly, even though she would never let Jackie pay for her Slurpee. Hell, Shauna’s even bought gas for Jackie’s car at least once.

Jackie’s eyes light up like she just won the fucking lottery, and she immediately starts shoving her notebook into her bag with zero subtlety—not even bothering to pretend it’s for any reason other than escape. She nudges Shauna again, this time with her foot under the desk.

"Obviously I'm buying," she whispers back, voice dripping with exaggerated grandeur as she flips her hair over one shoulder. "What kind of benevolent best friend-slash-escape-partner would I be if I made you pay for your own artificially flavoured ice sludge?" She pauses, wrinkling her nose "...Though honestly? You should be paying *me* for letting you subject me to that blue monstrosity."

Just as Mr. Johnson turns his back to write on the board again—because Jackie has apparently been tracking his movements like a prison-break expert—she stands abruptly and grabs Shauna’s wrist.

No hesitation. No second-guessing. Just absolute certainty that Shauna will follow.

"C'mon," she breathes, "before he turns around and we lose our shot."

Shauna’s about to argue that the ‘blue monstrosity’ tastes like melted blueberry heaven and she won’t have anyone maligning it—even if she has to defend its honor against Jackie herself—but it’s as if the contact of Jackie’s fingers around her wrist sends a shock of electricity through her, and she can feel the argument evaporate on the tip of her tongue. She only manages to nod and stand up so quickly that the chair knocks into the desk behind her.

Oh God, her face feels warm again.

Jackie makes a valiant effort to keep it together as Shauna accidentally rams into her seat, her eyes flicking briefly to the disgruntled kid behind them, but her shoulders still shake with laughter as they skirt the edge of the classroom towards the door.

"Oh boy. Real smooth, Shipman," she mutters, and they have to duck through the doorway right as Mr. Smith turns around to face the class once again.

And yeah, maybe she lingers a second too long in the doorway just so she can watch Shauna's flustered expression in the fluorescent hallway lights. For science.

"God, you're such a dork when you blush," she teases, "it's *adorable.*" She finally lets go of Shauna’s wrist—only to immediately hook their arms together instead like it’s casual, like they do this all the time "Now hurry up before I change my mind about your weird blue death juice.”

Jackie turns and gives Shauna a wicked grin, one that almost instantly devolves into a case of the giggles as the reality of their impulsive escape attempt hits her.

"I—you're the most—" Shauna wants to argue, to tell Jackie that she's the biggest dork of them all, but her brain is still trying to get over the fact that Jackie had called her adorable, and the words won't come out.

And she's never getting over that smile.

So Shauna resigns herself to being rendered speechless by Jackie Taylor yet again.

Shauna glances down at their arms locked together, feels her insides warm to the point of scorching—which is stupid, because she’s known Jackie for years, and they’ve always been weirdly close and super touchy-feely. The fact that Shauna’s so nervous and excited over this when she literally kissed Jackie a couple months ago is borderline pathetic, and Shauna shoves her hair off her face with her free hand, willing her face to cool down.

But she can’t stop grinning. Because this is just like Jackie—throwing every caution to the wind.

Jackie feels the shift—the way Shauna goes quiet and soft around the edges, and it makes something warm curl in her chest. But of course, she can’t just let Shauna *live* with these emotions unchallenged.

"Uh-oh," she sing-songs, swinging their linked arms like they're on some kind of bizarre parade route to freedom, "did I break you? Should I write an apology note to Brown admissions about how their future valedictorian was rendered useless by a single compliment?" She leans into Shauna's space again, breath ghosting over her ear as she whispers: "Or was it the escape that did it? Because honestly, Shipman—if a measly class ditch is all it takes to leave you this stunned..."

She pulls back just enough to waggle her eyebrows "...I should really take you joyriding more often."

"Oh my God," she breathes suddenly, smacking Shauna's wrist as her eyes light up. "We could take the afternoon off and get into all kinds of trouble—maybe hit up the roller rink before we get caught? Have you even been since they refurbished it? “The rink is *so* much nicer now, like, it's almost unrecognizable from before...and they always play great music there.”

Shauna is pretty sure her entire brain shorts out the moment Jackie says 'joyriding', because for a second she thinks Jackie is implying they do something far less innocent than skipping class. And, okay, they've kissed before, and it was amazing—and Jackie is absolutely amazing—and Shauna would happily skip class to make out, if Jackie was game. But that's not what she meant.

Shauna shakes her head to clear it before she starts staring at Jackie with 'please kiss me' written all over her face.

"Rink, right, yes! I'd love to."

Jackie grins, clearly pleased with herself, and tightens her grip on Shauna's hand a little in what she hopes is a subtle, reassuring squeeze, but mostly ends up being too firm and a little awkward.

Jackie knows she shouldn’t, because they have other plans and a good thing going here and—but Shauna’s lips are so pink and soft, and there’s a tiny smear of chapstick on the corner of her mouth and—

And, God, Jackie wants. She just wants

Her hand goes to Shauna’s forearm, pulling slightly until they’re face to face—close enough that all Jackie has to do is tilt her head.

“Good,” she breathes. And then she kisses her.

Shauna makes a sort of embarrassing squeaky noise when Jackie kisses her, and then she freezes, just as she’d done the first time, because the initial surprise is always a shock to her system. But then she’s melting into the kiss, and Jackie’s lips are perfect and soft just as they’d been the first time, and then Jackie’s teeth are biting down gently on her lower lip. Her hands find Jackie’s waist at that point, pulling her closer like she might disappear if Shauna doesn’t do something to keep her grounded.

So when Jackie pulls away, Shauna is left feeling dazed, with her lips parted like she might say something, but no words come out.

Shauna blinks stupidly, staring down at Jackie's flushed face, and the only thing her mind can process in this moment is that she wishes they had been somewhere more private—because then Jackie would still be kissing her right now.

“S..Slushies…?” She says intelligently.

God, Shauna is so cute like this—dazed and speechless, looking every bit as wrecked as Jackie feels inside. And it really sucks that Jackie can’t kiss her again right now, because she wants to so badly—wants to keep feeling the way it feels to have Shauna looking at her like that.

“Slushies,” she repeats—a little breathless as she grins again—and then leans forward to press her cheek against Shauna’s shoulder.

Jackie stares back, just as stunned as Shauna—and it’s a moment before she nods, blinking hard as if to clear her head.

“..Yes,” she says , with far more certainty than she actually feels. “Right. Slushies.”

She holds out her hand, a silent question, and Shauna takes it, and they start to walk again—more slowly this time. Jackie can’t shake the feeling of her lips still buzzing as she steals a glance at Shauna’s hand in hers.

She takes a deep breath, savours the closeness. Savours her.

Shauna finds herself grinning and squeezing Jackie’s hand, as if she can communicate through touch all of the giddy, dizzying thoughts in her head. She thinks Jackie might be the only real thing right now, and Shauna feels like she's being pulled into Jackie's orbit—so that she's just revolving helplessly around her.

Shauna is absolutely, pathetically, totally in love with her.

And Shauna thinks—knows—that the feeling is mutual. There's a weird sort of power in that, something that gives Shauna the motivation to hold on a little tighter, to lean a little closer.

Jackie ends up getting a Red Slushy whilst Shauna gets a blue as they sit on the steps outside of the gas station, Jackie turning her nose up at any flavour on the menu that sounds even slightly outlandish, and Shauna doesn't put up a fuss about the sugar content this time because she's in a good mood, and Jackie kissed her in the school hallway.

Jackie watches with a mixture of horror and fascination as Shauna takes the first sip of her violently blue concoction—lips already stained an unnatural hue, tongue peeking out to catch a stray drop at the corner of her mouth. It's disgusting. It's perfect.

She resists the urge to kiss her again right then and there—barely—because that would mean admitting defeat in The Great Slushie Debate Of '96.

"Disgraceful," Jackie declares, swirling her own cherry-flavoured drink like it's fine wine instead of gas station ice syrup, "but honestly? Expected." She leans against the railing, hip bumping Shauna’s deliberately "Next time I'm picking for you. Something civilized. Like..." she squints at the menu board "...uh... okay, everything here is trash, but *less* trash."

A beat. Then she grins, stealing a sip from Shauna’s cup just to make a show of gagging dramatically.

"God, how are you even alive right now?"

"That was mine, Jackie!" Shauna whines, but she's grinning too much to sound annoyed. She snags a taste of Jackie's red slushy—and yes, it tastes just the way Shauna expects a cherry slushy to taste: saccharine-sweet and vaguely medicinal, like cough syrup.

Shauna makes a face at the taste, but she smiles again. Because she's with Jackie.

She leans further into Jackie’s side to let one of her fingers trail over the hem of Jackie’s skirt. Her fingertips brush over soft denim, warm skin.

It's so casual—the way Shauna leans into her side, the way that one small touch sends shivers through Jackie's entire nervous system—and the thing is: this is her favourite version of Shauna. No pretense. No pretending to be anything other than absolutely, unabashedly into Jackie.

And no blue teeth or lips or tongue like this slushy monstrosity—because yeah, Jackie thinks she's in love, but she has to draw the line somewhere. Like, this thing should really be considered a form of chemical warfare.

Jackie still shivers at the touch though—the sensation more than a little bit pleasant, and she has to resist the urge to squirm under Shauna’s fingers like a purring cat. Shauna knows exactly what she’s doing, knows all of the tiny, inconsequential things that make Jackie fall apart under her hands.

She has a long mental list. And it does not bear thinking about right now.

Jackie bites her lip, tries to regain some semblance of composure, but she has no more fight left in her when it comes to Shauna.

Shauna feels a little lightheaded when Jackie bites her lip like that, and it is so incredibly distracting. She's having a hard enough time focusing on the conversation without thinking about how nice it'd be to have Jackie's teeth biting down on her skin. God. How does she make doing this right next a shitty gas station feel so good?

Shauna's fingers brush back and forth across the hem of Jackie's skirt before she shifts her hold so she has her hand flat against Jackie's back, a finger hooked through a belt loop. Shauna bites down on her own lip to stop from grinning stupidly.

Shauna feels the way Jackie shivers, and she knows she should be good, and stop teasing Jackie before someone sees and gets the wrong idea. But this is fun—seeing just how much she can push before Jackie’s composure breaks completely.

Shauna presses a little closer, feels her hand curl around Jackie’s hip, and she’s just about done for when Jackie bites her lip.

But she’s playing an extremely risky game, and Shauna feels lightheaded and nervous and excited.

“We should go before someone we know sees,” *She says softly.

Jackie huffs out a laugh, pressing her forehead against Shauna's shoulder—because yeah, okay, she's been *caught*. She can't exactly deny that Shauna is absolutely wrecking her right now with just a few lazy touches and that stupid lip bite.

And honestly? If they don't leave soon, Jackie might actually combust from the sheer tension of it all.

"You're *evil*," she mutters into the fabric of Shauna's flannel—but there's no real heat behind it. Just fondness. And maybe a little desperation.

"Fine," she relents finally, peeling herself away with exaggerated reluctance, "but only because I have plans to thoroughly distract you from being this smug later." She shoots Shauna a look that promises far more than just roller-skating as she tugs her toward the door "Also? Your tongue looks like you licked an alien. We're fixing that before we go anywhere public."

"Your tongue looks like that too, dummy." Shauna says, grinning at the way Jackie is so obviously affected by her touch. Because Shauna gets it—it's like some switch gets flipped inside her when Jackie touches her. Shauna turns completely stupid and can barely focus on anything else.

But she lets Jackie tug her out of the store because she can be the bigger person, and even if she wanted to resist, it's hard when Jackie is looking at her like that.

"Yeah..." Jackie murmurs distractedly, her lips already parted as she pushes Shauna against the wall just outside the convenience store, and Shauna’s mouth is slick and blue and—oh, she looks so good right now.

One kiss. That’s* all *Jackie’s going to do—just give Shauna’s lips and tongue a quick swipe just to steal some of the taste of blue raspberry, to make sure they match—and then she’s going to drag her to her car and put that tongue to even better use—

Shauna shivers when her back hits the wall, her arms moving on autopilot to wrap around Jackie’s waist to keep her close. Shauna leans in to kiss her, wanting to taste the sweet cherry slushy on Jackie’s lips. They can’t kiss like this for long, of course—because they are right outside a store, and anyone could see. But Shauna is greedy—she just wants a taste. A taste of Jackie’s mouth. A taste of Jackie.

Jackie pulls back just far enough to pant against Shauna’s lips, pupils blown wide and hands gripping the front of her flannel like she wants to tear it open right here.

She does. God, she really does—but the rational part of her brain that isn’t currently screaming SHAUNA SHAUNA SHAUNA manages to wrestle control back for half a second.

“Car,” she rasps, tugging urgently at Shauna’s wrist, “*Now*.”

Her voice is wrecked already. She doesn’t even care.

“Car, right, yeah,” Shauna manages, and she wants to be embarrassed about how unsteady her voice is when she replies—it almost sounds like a moan. But she doesn’t have it in her, not when she is so overwhelmed by Jackie. Shauna practically runs to the parking lot, dragging Jackie along with her as she climbs into the backseat.

Jackie lands half on top of her with a soft, surprised *oof*, but recovers immediately—pinning Shauna down by the wrists as she straddles her lap. The slushies are long forgotten, probably rolling around somewhere in the footwells, but Jackie couldn’t care less right now.

Because Shauna is looking up at her like that—cheeks flushed, lips still faintly blue from earlier—and Jackie suddenly has way more important things to focus on than spilled drinks.

She leans down until their noses brush together and smirks when Shauna instinctively tilts her head up for another kiss. But Jackie pauses just before their lips meet, teasing, “Say please.” Her voice drops to a whisper “Or beg. I’m not picky.”

Shauna is already breathless and turned on—and she wants to put up a front, wants to keep up the pretence of teasing Jackie back, but she can’t. Because Jackie looks like that, and she he feels like she’s going to completely unravel under Jackie’s hands. Her fingers tug on Jackie’s waist, pulling her closer. She just wants her so badly right now.

Shauna whimpers, and her entire body feels like it was set on fire at the low rasp of Jackie’s voice. And then her mouth is moving before she can stop it.

“Please—“ She has to swallow hard around the words, her throat dry and her own voice sounding like it belonged in a bad porno. “Please, Jackie, kiss me—!”

Her tongue flicks out, brushing against Jackie’s bottom lip the way she knows she loves.

Jackie's entire body shudders at the request—at the sound of Shauna whispering please like she's just lost all her goddamn self-control—and it sends heat straight to her gut. Shauna’s hips grind up against hers without meaning to, and Jackie can feel her heart fluttering behind her ribs like it might break free.

"Shh, shh," she murmurs, pressing down again to keep Shauna in place, "you'll get what you need. Promise. Just be good for me."

Chapter Text

Reclined on the couch in Shauna’s living room, rewatching Beaches for the thousandth time, Jackie can’t miss up an opportunity to drape them both in a blanket and inch closer to Shauna every few seconds.

Normally, Shauna would call Jackie out on it—would say something sarcastic like “Okay, personal space Jax,” or “What, do I *smell* bad or something?”

But tonight? Tonight, she’s feeling reckless and bold and just a little needy—and Jackie’s warmth is something she can’t pass up. So she just lets herself sink deeper into their pile of blankets until their sides are pressed together from chest to thigh, until her head is resting on Jackie’s shoulder instead of the cushions.

Jackie goes very still when she realises what's happening—Shauna's body a warm, solid weight against her own. Because—okay. Sure. They do this all the time, but usually it's Jackie initiating it, slowly but surely moving closer until Shauna gives in and rolls her eyes and lets Jackie rest her head in her lap. She's not used to Shauna being the one to cuddle up to her first, but she doesn’t hesitate to sink into it either. She just drops her head to rest on Shauna’s, tucking her face into the crook of Shauna’s neck as if that’s where she’s always belonged.

A beat passes, both of them barely breathing. Then: Jackie speaks up again, voice muffled against Shauna’s skin. "Hey, Shauna?"

Shauna blinks—pulled out of the movie at the sound of Jackie’s voice.

She doesn’t want to break this spell that’s fallen over them. Doesn’t want to pull back just yet and see the expression on Jackie’s face—because then she might have to acknowledge what they’re doing and she might have to stop. And God, she doesn’t want to stop. Not yet.

“Mhm?” Shauna hums back without moving, because what she’s doing—nuzzling even closer, wrapping an arm around Jackie’s shoulders—must be some weird dream her lovesick-teen brain cooked up. Because sure, she and Jackie cuddle all the time. Sometimes even this close. But it’s never been like this before—slow and deliberate and soft.

Her heart picks up in her chest as Jackie’s breath tickles her neck, and oh God, she’s in so much trouble.

Jackie shifts closer—the blanket long abandoned, legs tangled, arms wrapped around each other in a way that would be innocent if they were still thirteen. But they’re not. They’re seventeen and pressed flush against each other in Shauna’s living room while some movie plays in the background, and Jackie can feel her body reacting to the soft way Shauna’s holding on to her. Can't help but notice every spot where they’re connected. There’s a warmth curling low in her belly, and she tries to focus on anything other than the heat of Shauna against her.

She’s not sure what she was going to say—maybe something sappy like “you’re my best friend”, maybe something less safe like “thanks for being here”, maybe something stupid like “I love you, Shipman.”

All of which are true. All of which are dangerously close to what she’s feeling—a deep, aching sort of tenderness that makes her stomach hurt in the best way, even though she’ll never say it out loud.

"Do you... I mean, is this..." She tries to think, tries to find the words to say before she decides to just ask and deal with the consequences later.

"Is this weird? That we're... doing this?"

Shauna stiffens slightly—because she knows exactly what Jackie’s asking. And it’s terrifying, because yeah—it *is* weird that they do this. That they cuddle and hold hands and exist in each other’s space like they belong there, even though neither of them have ever put a name to it.

It's weird that Shauna can't sleep properly unless Jackie is right next to her. Weird how she memorizes the curve of Jackie's smile when she laughs at something dumb Shauna says. Weird how sometimes when she looks at her best friend, her chest feels so tight with longing that it physically hurts.

A beat passes as Shauna considers lying—could make some joke about “platonic soulmates” or shrug it off like no big deal—but then...

“Yeah,” she admits quietly against Jackie’s hair, “A little.” Her thumb rubs absent circles on the back of Jackie's shoulder without thinking. "But I don't mind."

And oh God, why did she say that? Why couldn't she just lie for once?

Jackie's breath catches—because Shauna *never* admits to things like this, never acknowledges the weird, unspoken tension that’s been lingering between them for years. And now she just—did? Casually? Like it wasn’t earth-shattering?

Jackie has spent months convincing herself that she was imagining it all—that the way they orbit each other is just how best friends are supposed to be, that the way her stomach flips when Shauna touches her is completely normal. But now Shauna just tilted everything on its axis and Jackie doesn't know what to do with that information.

A few heartbeats pass before Jackie exhales shakily and tightens her arms around Shauna like she's afraid she might disappear. "...Me neither," she murmurs back. And if her voice cracks a little on those two words, well. Neither of them mentions it.

The movie keeps playing in the background—but neither of them are watching anymore.

Chapter Text

Jackie is splayed onto Shauna’s sofa as Shauna pours some Lemonade into cups on the coffee table for them both, then letting out a burdened sigh before she asks: “Shauna.. would you still love me I was a worm..?” Completely seriously, as if it had been weighing down on her mind.

Shauna blinks, lemonade pitcher hovering mid-pour as she slowly turns to stare at Jackie—her face doing that thing where she can’t decide if this is a joke or not. The silence stretches for approximately three full seconds before her brain reboots.

"...*What?*" Her voice cracks.

Because honestly? This tracks. Of course Jackie would hit her with existential invertebrate hypotheticals in the middle of a perfectly normal afternoon. Shauna shouldn’t even be surprised anymore.

She sets the pitcher down carefully, like it might explode if she moves too fast, and squints at Jackie like she’s trying to solve an advanced math problem. "Are you—is this because I said I liked that weird Kafka book last week? Because I feel like that’s *really* coming back to bite me here—"

Jackie rolls her eyes, flopping back dramatically against the couch cushions like Shauna is personally victimising her by not immediately understanding the gravity of this worm situation.

"*No*, Shauna," she huffs, throwing an arm over her forehead like a Victorian heroine mid-swoon, "this is a serious question! Like—what if I got hit by a truck tomorrow and woke up as, like... a tiny little worm in the dirt?" She wiggles her fingers for emphasis "Would you still love me then? Would you keep me in one of those weird terrariums and sing to me? Or would you just step on me and move on with your life?"

There’s genuine concern in Jackie's voice. Because obviously the answer to this question is crucial to their friendship.

Shauna is torn between laughing in Jackie’s face and actually humouring her. Because on one hand—a worm? Really? But on the other, Jackie looks so genuinely distraught that Shauna feels like she might break if she doesn’t answer this with utmost sincerity.

Shauna walks over to the couch, lemonades abandoned, and plops down beside her. She grabs one of Jackie’s hands—the non-Victorian-swoon one—and presses a quick kiss to her knuckles.

“First of all,” she says, “if you were a worm I would obviously put you in a nice little habitat. With soil. And leaves.” She nods solemnly “Second, I would *never* step on you—”

Jackie makes a soft wounded noise at even the thought

“But most importantly…” Shauna leans in close, cupping Jackie's face between both hands now. “You wouldn't be *just* any worm." Dramatic pause "You'd be my **favourite** worm.”

Jackie giggles softly, cheeks flushing with pleasure at both the answer and the soft kiss to her knuckles from earlier. Shauna is so cute—precious even.

"Right," she nods, clearly pleased as she leans into Shauna. "Your *favourite* worm. That's more like it.”

She’s going to pretend ‘favourite worm’ is the same thing as ‘only worm.’

'Cause, y'know, it's not so much about the whole gross worm thing as it is about our whole... *bond*." Jackie gestures vaguely between them, like she's trying to physically draw the connection into the air.

If Shauna didn’t know better, she’d guess that Jackie was high. Which, to be fair, would make this whole conversation make a lot more sense. Even if it did make Shauna want to roll her eyes like she was on a sitcom and Jackie just said something ridiculous to the live studio audience.

“You say that like we have some kind of special worm bond,” Shauna says, and her fingers have started tracing idle patterns along Jackie’s leg. “But I really hope you don’t expect me to kiss a worm.”

“..I mean, I could crush you.” She adds quickly, not wanting to make Jackie upset.

Jackie gasps dramatically, eyes going wide and indignant as she jabs an accusing finger into Shauna's collarbone. "Oh my *god*. Shauna, how could you even say that? Worms are living beings too. They have *feelings!*"

She sits up suddenly, eyes narrowing. "And you *would so* kiss me if I was a worm. How is that even a question? You have to! It might be how I turn back into a human—like in those fairytale movies where the curse is broken with a kiss! We can't take that chance!"

Shauna wants to argue that no, worms do not have feelings, but Jackie looks like she’s about three seconds away from spiralling into an entirely new existential crisis if Shauna doesn’t play along. So she exhales—long-suffering—and pulls a serious face.

"Fine," she says, "if you were a worm—*my favourite worm*—then yes. I would kiss you." She pauses "But only because the alternative is having you haunt me for eternity as some kind of tragic worm ghost who never got her princess moment."

Jackie still looks unconvinced, so Shauna groans and grabs her face again
"Okay! Okay. *Yes*, I would kiss my stupid little worm friend on her stupid little dirt mouth until she turned back into a human just to shut me up! Happy now?"

Jackie’s nose crinkles instinctively at the thought of actually kissing a worm, but the thought of Shauna kissing her—for any reason—is enough to make her grin, so it’s a compromise she’s willing to make.

But then she frowns "Hey... my worm mouth wouldn't be *stupid*. I'd be a classy worm. An *elegant* worm. But yes, I am happy. Very, very happy—"

Jackie takes hold of Shauna by the shoulders, grinning as she pulls her closer and kisses her cheek.

Chapter Text

It’s been a whopping 2 days of Shauna not turning up to school. Being late to soccer practice that one time was pushing it, but this has Jackie almost restless with anger by the second day.

She considers giving Shauna the benefit of the doubt on the first, maybe she has a cold or something came up, but going through not one, but **two** days without Shauna is literally like a torture method.

So she does what any other good friend does and storms up to her house after school, speaking politely to Shauna’s Mother whilst masking how pissed she feels inside.

Apparently, Shauna’s Mom has been concerned about her for quite a while, and thought it was best to leave her to her own devices whilst she figured her problems out for herself.. basically rotting in her bed.

Upstairs, Shauna is cocooned in her bed sheets and sports a pile of coke cans and plates on her bedside table as well as one of dirty clothes next to her bed, some bras and socks strewn further, probably randomly chucked, or draped across the chair in front of her desk.

Not to mention the fact that no natural light is let in, leaving the place slightly dim and even more depressing.

Jackie’s breath catches when she finally pushes open Shauna’s bedroom door—because *Jesus*. The room reeks of stale soda and unwashed laundry, the curtains drawn tight against any hint of sunlight. And there, in the centre of it all, is Shauna—buried under a mountain of blankets like some kind of disheveled gremlin.

The sight sends an unexpected pang through Jackie’s chest. This isn’t just *skipping school* levels of bad. This is something else entirely.

"**Shipman.**" Her voice comes out sharper than intended as she flicks on the overhead light, "What the hell is this?"

Shauna flinches violently at both the sudden brightness and Jackie’s tone before pulling a pillow over her face with a grunt.* “Go ’way,” she mumbles into it, “Not in the mood.” Like a teenage boy that’s been told to do something productive and not play video games all day.

Jackie scoffs because—seriously?

“Not in the mood?” She strides forward and yanks the pillow away, “You don’t get to just **disappear** for two days without telling me! Do you have any idea how worried I—”

Shauna squawks in protest, reaching blindly for the pillow—but Jackie holds it just out of reach, jaw set in that stubborn way that means she’s **not** backing down this time.

"I wasn't *disappearing*," Shauna mutters, rubbing at her eyes like a petulant child, "I was just... existing. Quietly." A weak excuse. Even she knows it.

Jackie's nostrils flare as she surveys the mess around them—crumpled papers, half-empty cans of soda, a sad-looking stack of unread library books abandoned on the floor. And Shauna herself: hair greasy from days without washing, dark circles under her eyes like bruises.

"Bullshit," Jackie snaps, "This isn't existing, Shauna. This is rotting." Her voice cracks on the last word because goddammit—this isn’t just about school or soccer anymore. Something’s wrong. **Really** wrong.

A beat passes where Shauna just stares at her—defiant and exhausted and so fucking closed-off that Jackie wants to shake her.

And—shit. She looks terrible. Hair matted to her forehead, still in the same clothes she was wearing two days ago, and are those a *cookie crumbs* sticking to her t-shirt?

Shauna’s eyes flicker with irritation before she rolls onto her side with a huff, effectively turning her back on Jackie.

“‘M fine,” she grumbles, “Just tired. Leave me alone.”

Jackie scoffs—loud and disbelieving—because wow. *Wow*. Shauna’s really going to lie to her face while looking like she got hit by a bus and then left in a dumpster for three days?

A flash of anger spikes through Jackie’s chest, hot and prickling. Because sure, maybe she came here ready to yell at Shauna for ghosting her—but this? This isn’t that. This is something else entirely.

"Fine?" she repeats incredulously, "You look like you haven't showered since the Clinton administration." She gestures wildly at the general disaster zone that is Shauna's room before planting both hands on her hips. "And since when do you just *skip school* without telling me? Without telling **anyone**?"

Shauna doesn’t answer. Just pulls the blanket higher over herself with a muffled grunt, which only makes Jackie steam harder.

"Okay," Jackie mutters, tossing the pillow aside before stomping toward the window, "New plan." With one sharp yank, she tears open the curtains—flooding the room with harsh afternoon sunlight.

Shauna gives a full-body flinch at the sudden influx of light—

"Gah!" she yelps, scooting further into her cocoon of blankets, "The hell, Jackie? Put those back!" She sounds half awake and thoroughly irritated by this point. It’d be almost adorable if Jackie wasn’t so pissed off right now.

Jackie just folds her arms across her chest, glaring at the back of Shauna’s head. "No. You’re obviously not fine, Shipman. You’re moping."

Shauna hisses like a vampire, shrinking away from the light while burying her face in the pillow.

Well. At least she’s talking now.

Jackie’s drops down onto the bed, bouncing aggressively while tugging at the blanket. “Take a shower and clean up this dump. And then we're going to talk. Understand?"

Shauna whines dramatically as she is forcibly freed from her own blanket prison, revealing her clinging to one of her pillows like a koala in her wrinkled pyjamas and one mysterious sock. Again, not really the time for her to look so cute.

Jackie rolls her eyes and yanks the pillow away again—because no, she’s not getting distracted by how adorably small and rumpled Shauna looks right now. But despite herself, Jackie can't help but glance at Shauna right now—all messy hair, wrinkled pyjamas, and petulant pout. And yeah, she could be angry about Shauna trying to give her the silent treatment after she was just *worried*, but—god. Shauna just looks so soft and sad and lonely, like a kitten caught in an unexpected rainstorm and Jackie's insides go all wiggly.

But then Shauna lets out another annoyed huff and she refocuses—this is NOT the time to be all lovesick.

Shauna glares up at her, hair sticking up in every direction like an angry hedgehog, and for a second, Jackie thinks she might actually *bite* her. But then Shauna exhales hard through her nose—defeated—and flops back onto the bed with a groan.

"Ughhh," she groans, "Why are you like this?" Her voice is muffled by the pillow she’s now smushing against her face again.

Jackie resists the urge to yank that away too—barely.

"Because someone has to be," she fires back, "And your mom’s clearly given up on you." A low blow, maybe. But effective. Shauna stiffens slightly at that before peeking one bleary eye out from under the pillow.

"...You talked to my mom?"

Jackie rolls her eyes. "Duh." She reaches over to poke Shauna’s shoulder impatiently. "*Now*. Shower. Then we’re cleaning this biohazard zone before I catch tetanus just looking at it."

Shauna groans again but finally hauls herself upright—swaying slightly like a zombie.

Shauna’s movements are slow and exaggerated, as if she's moving through molasses—but Jackie can see the reluctant acceptance in her slumped shoulders. She watches as Shauna rubs at her eyes with the heel of her palm, hair sticking up wildly on one side from how long she’d been pressed into the pillow.

She looks exhausted. More than just tired—something deeper, something that makes Jackie’s chest ache despite herself.

“Fine,” Shauna mumbles, “But only ‘cause you’re being weirdly intense about this.” She stands unsteadily before shooting Jackie a half-hearted glare. “And don’t touch my stuff while I’m gone.”

Jackie raises an eyebrow at the mess around them before giving Shauna a pointed once-over. “Bold of you to assume I want to.”

Shauna flips her off over her shoulder as she shuffles toward the bathroom—a habitual gesture, automatic. Like breathing. It makes something in Jackie loosen slightly because—okay. If Shauna still has enough energy to be a little shit, then maybe things aren't completely hopeless.

A few minutes later, the sound of running water starts echoing in the bathroom.

Jackie looks up as Shauna re-enters, steam curling around her like a halo—and okay, yeah. That’s… new. Not that Jackie hasn’t seen Shauna fresh from the shower before (because she has, *obviously*), but right now? Hair dripping onto bare shoulders, towel slung low on her shoulders like she doesn’t even care? It sends Jackie's brain into a complete short-circuit.

Okay, so maybe her gaze lingers a bit too long on Shauna’s legs—all toned muscle and smooth, wet skin—but that’s only because she’s **worried**, damnit. Not because Shauna looks so good when she’s all damp like this, or that Jackie can’t help but notice the water droplets clinging to Shauna’s shoulders in a way that makes her want to lick her lips.

Shauna must notice the appreciative once-over because her lips quirk up in a tiny, smug smirk, and Jackie’s heart does somersaults.

She swallows hard and immediately busies herself with aggressively folding a random shirt from the floor pile. That way she won't do something stupid—like stare.

"You're *welcome*, by the way," Jackie says loudly, "For saving your room from being condemned by the health department." Her voice comes out higher than intended. She clears her throat.

..The truth was, Shauna had been feeling very pent up these past few days, which was what she assumed was a manifestation of her anger and boredom, and would be lying if she said she didn’t think this wasn’t a perfect opportunity to try something with Jackie. She was desperate. It wasn’t as if she didn’t think of Jackie every time she felt that way anyway. And the fact that Jackie not only noticed her absence but cared enough to literally storm inside her house totally didn’t turn her on even more, in some sort of weird and twisted way. But twisted was basically normal with Jackie and Shauna, because neither of them could actually be normal about the other.

Shauna takes a slow, deliberate step forward—still damp from the shower, towel clinging precariously to her shoulders as she moves into Jackie’s space. The air between them suddenly feels thick enough to choke on.

Jackie freezes mid-fold, clutching the wrinkled shirt like a lifeline as Shauna crowds closer. Her breath catches when Shauna leans in—close enough that Jackie can smell her shampoo, close enough to count the droplets of water still clinging to her collarbone.

"Jax," Shauna murmurs, "You’ve been *so* helpful today." Her voice is low—too low for innocent intentions, too sweet not to be poison.

Jackie swallows hard because—oh. Oh no. That tone. That smirk. She knows where this is going before Shauna even finishes speaking.

A beat passes where they just stare at each other—Jackie wide-eyed and frozen; Shauna tilting her head like she's savouring every second of this. Then:

"D'you think you could help me with something else?" Shauna asks innocently, fingers ghosting over Jackie’s wrist where it grips the shirt between them.

Jackie's breath hitches as Shauna's fingers brush her wrist—light, teasing, deliberate. Her pulse jumps wildly beneath Shauna's touch, and she has to fight the urge to shiver.

This is dangerous. This is exactly how Jackie loses arguments—how Shauna gets what she wants without ever having to ask outright. And goddammit, it works **every time**.

"...Depends," Jackie manages after a beat, voice suspiciously shaky for someone trying so hard to sound unaffected. "Are you gonna actually tell me what’s been going on with you? Or are we just doing the whole *distract Jackie with proximity* thing again?"

Shauna blinks—momentarily thrown by the directness before her smirk returns, sharper now. "Maybe both," she admits easily, fingers trailing higher up Jackie’s arm just to watch goosebumps rise in their wake. "You hate when I shut you out... but you *love* when I let you in." A pause. A challenge. "So which is it gonna be?"

And oh—that’s not fair. Because Shauna isn't wrong.

"Fuck you.”

Jackie’s voice cracks halfway through—half-hearted defiance crumbling as Shauna’s fingers curl around her wrist, thumb pressing into the frantic flutter of her pulse. The shirt she was folding slips from her grip entirely, forgotten on the floor between them.

Shauna crowds closer—close enough that Jackie can see the way her eyelashes are still wet from the shower, close enough to count every freckle dusting her nose. And then, just like that, all pretence shatters.

Jackie surges forward and kisses Shauna hard—fists gripping damp fabric like she might vanish if Jackie doesn't hold on tight enough. Because fine. Fine! If this is how they're doing this now—if Shauna wants to play dirty instead of talking—then Jackie will **outplay** her.

She bites down on Shauna’s lower lip just to hear the sharp gasp it pulls from her before pulling back with a glare. “You don’t get to *distract me* and pretend nothing happened,” she breathes, “Not this time.” Her hands tighten in Shauna's shirt for emphasis before shoving at her lightly. "Now tell me why you shut yourself in like that.”

Shauna stumbles back a step—blindsided and breathless and flushed. Her lips part slightly, eyes darting back and forth across Jackie’s face like she isn't sure what just happened.

But Jackie isn’t letting her off the hook that easily, so she pushes again, and Shauna lets out an indignant yelp when she trips back onto the bed.

“I *wasn’t*—” she starts defensively, but Jackie stalks forward and climbs on top of her with the grace of a lioness—hands pressing down on either side of Shauna’s head.

Shauna’s breath hitches as Jackie looms over her—all wild eyes and mussed hair and *anger* that feels dangerously close to something else. She should be annoyed, should shove Jackie off for being pushy like this, but—fuck. The weight of her, the warmth of her thighs bracketing Shauna’s hips? It’s doing things to her head that make coherent thought impossible.

Jackie leans down until their noses almost touch.

“Try again,” she murmurs, “And don't lie to me.”

Shauna swallows hard. The air between them is thick with unspoken words—with the ghost of Jackie’s kiss still burning on Shauna's lips.

A beat passes before Shauna finally caves. "...I got scared," she admits quietly, "That you didn't need me anymore." The confession tastes bitter in her mouth, too raw under the weight of Jackie's stare.

And just like that, Jackie's expression softens—but only for a second before she huffs out a frustrated laugh.

"You idiot," she whispers—voice cracking as she fists both hands in the front of Shauna’s shirt.

Shauna doesn't even have time to process the insult before Jackie yanks her up and crashes their mouths together again—messy, desperate, perfect.

And okay. Maybe she was being an idiot. Maybe she *had* spiraled into some ridiculous pit of self-doubt where Jackie forgetting to text her back for a few hours a week ago meant the sky was falling. But right now? With Jackie’s fingers tangled in her hair and her tongue hot against Shauna’s? It’s hard to remember why she ever thought any of that mattered.

Jackie pulls back just enough to speak—forehead resting against Shauna’s as they both struggle for air. "I *always* need you," she breathes, "Even when you're being a moody little freak who hides in her room like a cave troll."

Shauna barks out a startled laugh at that—but it gets caught somewhere between their lips when Jackie kisses her again, softer this time.

When Jackie finally breaks away, breathless and scowling, she doesn't go far—just presses their foreheads together with a shaky exhale.

"Of course I need you," she repeats, voice rough around the edges, "That's never gonna change." A pause. A sharp inhale. "So stop being a self-sacrificing idiot and *talk to me next time*."

Shauna stares up at her—dazed, lips still tingling from the force of Jackie's kiss—before letting out a slow breath of her own.

"...Okay," she relents quietly. Her fingers tighten in the fabric of Jackie's shirt anyway—like she needs proof this is real, like she's afraid Jackie might vanish if she lets go.

Jackie grins—wobbly and relieved, eyes glistening with unshed tears as she leans down and presses a series of quick, playful pecking kisses to Shauna's face.

"*Good*," she murmurs, "Because I'm sick of having to force our way through your angsty episodes just to remind you that I love you." The words catch in her throat—a little too honest for this new thing they're navigating.

Shauna laughs softly; a real laugh this time, free and light as she reaches up to brush a strand of hair behind Jackie's ear.

Jackie huffs out a breath, but doesn't resist when Shauna tugs her closer again—tangles her fingers in Jackie’s hair and pulls her into another kiss.

And okay—maybe they're a little codependent, but who cares when kissing Shauna feels like this? Like coming home after a long day, or drinking hot chocolate on a cold night… like safety and warmth and a million other things Jackie can't put into words right now.

She deepens the kiss without thinking—licks into Shauna’s mouth with enough abandon to make them both gasp.

She pulls back again to simply look at Shauna with wide eyes, taking in her flushed cheeks, her kiss-swollen lips—she's such a dork. Such a *beautiful* dork, and Jackie needs to touch her again right now or she might explode.

She leans in to close the distance between them once more—but stops short, her lips brushing Shauna's tantalisingly.

Shauna stares up at Jackie—breathless and wanting and so goddamn happy even as the teasing brush of their lips drives her crazy. She slides a hesitant hand beneath Jackie’s shirt—tracing patterns across the ridges of her ribs, mapping the contours of her side.

Shauna feels like she's on fire, but it still isn't enough.

She tightens her grip, uses it to pull Jackie down on top of her—a needy little whimper escaping her lips when she finally feels the press of Jackie's hips against her own, greedy for more.

That breathy little noise shoots straight down Jackie’s spine, leaves her mind fogged and blood pounding as Shauna’s blunt nails dig into the curve of her hip.

And really—how is she meant to resist this? How can the universe expect her to be rational when Shauna is moaning beneath her and arching into her with every touch?

Jackie swallows back the sudden dryness in her throat as she stares down at Shauna, panting hard; a mess of tangled limbs and heaving chests and swollen lips parted eagerly.

She wants Shauna.

Chapter Text

Jackie and Shauna sit together on the grass next to a park, licking at their ice creams and trying not to let them dribble down their hands.

Then Jackie sees something out of the corner of her eye, in the bushes right beside them. The leaves are rustling, and something small and soft pokes out from underneath them.

Is that.. a paw..?

A kitten!

Ice cream immediately forgotten, Jackie grabs onto Shauna and points to it exasperatedly.

“Shauna, Shauna, look!!”

Shauna almost drops her ice cream cone when Jackie suddenly grabs her arm, fingers digging in with frantic excitement. She follows Jackie’s gaze to the rustling bushes—where a tiny, dirt-streaked paw is indeed poking out from under the leaves.

Oh no. Oh no no no. Because that’s definitely a *kitten*, and Shauna knows exactly where this is going.

“Jackie,” she says slowly, “We are *not* taking home some random diseased park kitten—”

But Jackie is already scrambling forward on her knees, carefully pushing aside the foliage with one hand while balancing her half-melted ice cream in the other. “Look at him! He’s so little! And *lonely*!” Her voice pitches up into that dangerous tone—the one she uses when she’s about to get what she wants by sheer force of puppy-dog eyes alone.

A tiny calico kitten stares up at them with wide, trembling eyes—scrawny and clearly abandoned. And just like that, Shauna feels all resistance crumbling because... fuck. It really does look pathetic.

She sighs heavily even as she leans forward to inspect it closer.

"Fine.”

Jackie's face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning, and before Shauna can blink, she's cradling the kitten gently against her chest and practically cooing at it.

Oh no. Jackie's gone full baby-animal mode. This is officially the cutest thing Shauna's seen her do.

"We're keeping him, right? *Right*?" Jackie's big, earnest eyes are fixed on Shauna, already pleading.

Shauna sighs, already knowing she's lost this battle before it even began. "Jax, *if* we take it—and I'm saying **if**—"

Jackie lets out an excited squeak, practically vibrating where she sits.

"—then *you're* the one explaining to my mom why there's a flea-infested gremlin in my room," Shauna finishes, pointing her half-eaten ice cream cone at Jackie accusingly.

The kitten mews pitifully as if on cue, big eyes blinking up at them. Shauna glares down at it. It’s disgustingly cute.

Jackie gasps dramatically and scoops the tiny thing into her hands like it’s made of glass. "*Flea-infested gremlin?!* Shauna! This is a *baby angel*, look at his little face!" She holds the kitten up toward Shauna like a sacrificial offering, its tiny paws dangling pathetically in the air.

Shauna squints. The kitten sneezes directly onto her shirt.

"...Gross," she mutters—reaching out to brush a thumb over its dusty little head.

Shauna sighs—but there’s no real heat behind it, especially not when the kitten lets out a tiny *mew* and Jackie gasps like it’s the most heartbreaking sound she’s ever heard.

And okay. Maybe Shauna melts a little too.

“And you’re cleaning its litter box.” She adds, already shrugging off her flannel to bundle the kitten up carefully,

A lie. They both know Shauna will end up doing half the work—just like always.

Jackie beams, scooping up the trembling ball of fur with gentle hands. “Deal!” she chirps before pressing an impulsive kiss to Shauna’s cheek, “You’re the best.” The gesture is so casual, so effortless that neither of them registers how intimate it is until seconds later—when they both freeze awkwardly, cheeks burning.

A beat passes before Jackie clears her throat and holds up their new cat like a shield between them, "So... what should we name him?" (Distraction mode: activated.)

Shauna’s face burns where Jackie’s lips just brushed against her skin—the spot tingling like a brand. She stares at Jackie, mouth slightly open, heart hammering in her chest. The kitten dangles between them like a fuzzy little peace offering, oblivious to the sudden tension.

Shauna blinks once, twice—heat floods her cheeks as she quickly ducks her head. "Uh," she mutters intelligently, "Whatever. Just hurry so he doesn't pee on me." It's a flimsy deflection, her voice comes out higher than intended, but hey—she's trying to regain her composure here.

Jackie is already pretending nothing happened. Of course she is.

Jackie giggles—nervous and bright—and pulls the kitten back to cradle it against her shoulder. "*Perfect*. So... Fitzgerald?"

That startles a laugh out of Shauna despite herself. "Fitzgerald? Really?" She reaches over to scritch behind the cat’s tiny ears, "That's somehow worse than I expected."

Jackie gasps, mock-offended as she clutches the kitten closer. "Fitzgerald is a *sophisticated* name!" she declares, "Like... literary and stuff! Plus he's clearly got that intellectual vibe—look at him!" She tilts the kitten’s tiny face toward Shauna, who only raises an eyebrow skeptically at its half-lidded, vacant expression.

The cat yawns widely—revealing a pink tongue and zero signs of genius-level intellect.

"Right," Shauna deadpans, "A real scholar. Probably contemplating quantum physics in between naps." Her fingers linger absently on the kitten’s head anyway because—fine. It’s kind of cute.

Jackie gasps in mock offence, clutching the kitten tighter. "*Excuse you*, Shauna. Fitzgerald is clearly a *proper gentleman.* Look at his little moustache!" She points to the smudge of lighter fur above the kitten's lip that does, admittedly, look kind of like a tiny milk moustache.

Shauna squints at it—then sighs dramatically.

"Fine. Just don’t make up excuses not to take your turn in litter cleaning.” she mutters. She reaches out to stroke the kitten’s nose lightly with one finger.

Jackie beams because—yes! That means Shauna just tacitly agreed to joint custody of this flea-ridden park cat. Victory is hers!

"Deal!" she chirps—already bouncing slightly with excitement as Fitz lets out another tiny sneeze against her shoulder.

Shauna sighs—but it's fond. Too fond. Because Jackie is ridiculous and impulsive and *glowing* right now, holding this tiny creature like it's the most precious thing in the world, and Shauna knows she'd say yes to anything when Jackie looks at her like that.

She reaches over to scratch under Fitz’s chin absently before muttering "If he claws up my Weezer posters, I'm throwing *both* of you out the window."

Jackie gasps—horrified but grinning. "You wouldn't dare!" She clutches Fitz protectively against her chest as if Shauna might actually attempt a feline defenestration right then and there.

Fitz, for his part, purrs obliviously—tail flicking against Jackie’s wrist as he settles into her hold. The traitor.

Shauna rolls her eyes—but there’s no real bite to it as she watches Jackie nuzzle the top of the kitten’s head like some kind of Disney princess. God, she’s ridiculous. And adorable. Shauna is so screwed.

The kitten—Fitzgerald, apparently—blinks drowsily at her over Jackie's shoulder with an expression that says, *Yeah, I live here now. What are you gonna do about it?*

"...We are *not* letting him sleep in my room," Shauna declares weakly, "Your mom already lets you get away with murder."

Jackie scoffs and shifts Fitz higher in her arms. "Please," she counters breezily, "*Your* mom will fold the second he purrs at her. Admit it—you're outnumbered." She punctuates this by pressing another kiss to Fitzgerald's tiny forehead while making pointed eye contact with Shauna.

Shauna opens her mouth to argue but falters when Fitz stretches a wobbly paw toward her sleeve and mews pitifully.

...Damn it.

Shauna just rolls her eyes (but doesn't deny it) before nudging Jackie with her elbow. "C'mon,” she says, “We gotta stop by PetSmart before my mom realises we're smuggling contraband into the house."

And just like that, they're off—shoulders bumping together as they walk toward town.

As they walk, Jackie can’t help but glance over at Shauna every few seconds—watching the way she tries to act annoyed while simultaneously sneaking little pets to Fitzgerald whenever she thinks Jackie isn't looking.

Jackie grins. This is *perfect*. Now they have a shared cat, which means joint custody, which means more excuses for sleepovers and impromptu visits and—

Wait.

Her brain screeches to a halt as reality crashes over her. Because this is... kind of a *couple* thing? Adopting a pet together? Isn’t it? The thought makes her stomach flip violently—but not in an entirely bad way.

Chapter Text

Once they get home, they agree on giving the kitten a bath to wash the dirt off its fur and check for flees, whilst Jackie looks like she might clutch her heart in distress as the kitten wails and claws at the sink the whole time.

Once it’s finally over, they cocoon him into a towel with his wet, still scraggly face poking out, and Jackie refuses to do anything else other than sit on the couch and cradle him like an actual baby.

Shauna rolls her eyes as Jackie coos nonsense at the damp, disgruntled lump in her arms—but she can’t fight the smile tugging at her lips. Fitz looks absolutely ridiculous, fur flattened and grumpy expression somehow even more pronounced now that he’s clean. Shauna reaches over to flick his tiny nose gently. “Drama queen,” she mutters.

Jackie gasps—scandalized. “Shauna! He just went through *trauma*—”

Fitzgerald, now slightly less filthy and significantly more indignant, blinks up at Shauna with wide, betrayed eyes—like she personally orchestrated his aquatic torture.

”Trauma,” Shauna mouths silently behind her hand, eyebrows shooting up mockingly.

“—and now you’re bullying him? Unbelievable.” Jackie clutches Fitz closer like a swooning Victorian maiden clutching pearls, even as the kitten starts gnawing halfheartedly on the edge of the towel.

Shauna snorts, “Yeah, yeah. Tell me that again when he claws up your Spice Girls posters instead of mine.”

A pause. Jackie freezes mid-pet.

"...We are buying him so many scratching posts tomorrow."

Shauna groans and thunks her head back against the couch cushions. “We are not turning my room into a feline amusement park.”

They absolutely will.

She’s already picturing the chaos. Fitzgerald batting at neon strings and dangling rubber mice, Jackie’s gleeful laughter, the inevitable destruction of all their worldly possessions...

Oh god. She’s in way too deep.

Fitzgerald squirms free from Jackie’s tight hold and clambers up onto Shauna’s lap, damp paws leaving smudges on her t-shirt.

Shauna wrinkles her nose. He still smells vaguely of wet dog. The kitten headbutts her chin, a little fuzzy missile against her neck.

"Great," she mutters, "One more thing to compete for your attention."

And Jackie isn't sure whether to laugh or be concerned when Shauna tries to hold the cat like she's holding a ticking time bomb.

Jackie bursts into laughter, clutching her stomach as she watches Shauna awkwardly cradle Fitzgerald like he might detonate at any second. "Oh my god," she wheezes, "You look like you're trying to defuse a bomb!"

Shauna shoots her a glare, but there's no real heat behind it—not when Fitz starts purring against her collarbone, vibrating like a tiny motorboat. She sighs in defeat and cautiously adjusts her grip.

"...He's warm," she mutters defensively.

Jackie grins and scoots closer until their shoulders press together, reaching over to scritch between the kitten’s ears. "See? You *like* him."

"I tolerate him," Shauna corrects flatly—even as one hand comes up to steady the tiny menace when he nearly tumbles off her lap in his quest to climb higher onto her shoulder.

The truth is: Fitzgerald has already won. It took approximately five minutes.

"Uh-huh." Jackie leans in conspiratorially, "*Sure*, Shipman."

Shauna rolls her eyes, but she's not fooling anyone—especially not when Fitzgerald finally settles in the crook of her neck like a tiny, purring scarf.

"You're *such* a liar," Jackie sing-songs, poking Shauna’s cheek. "Admit it. You're already obsessed with him."

Shauna huffs. *"Obsessed* is a strong word—"

Fitz chooses that moment to nuzzle directly under her chin with an obnoxiously loud purr.

Jackie bursts into giggles again, "He's got your number! Look at him—he knows you're soft for him!"

"I am not soft," Shauna insists weakly... just as Fitzgerald starts kneading his tiny claws into the fabric of her t-shirt like he owns it (and by extension, owns **her**).

This is Shauna’s life now: hostage to a two-pound ball of fluff and Jackie Taylor’s smug grin.

"...Fine." She finally caves, "But if he pees on my comic books? War."

Jackie beams and rests her head against Shauna’s shoulder—watching Fitz claim his new human.

Shauna rolls her eyes again, but doesn’t protest when Jackie shifts even closer—until they’ve formed their own cocoon around the purring kitten, both staring down at him with twin affectionate grins.

Fitzgerald blinks drowsily up at them with eyes that seem to say: Yeah, I live here now. This is my spot. Deal with it.

Shauna snorts. What a little tyrant.

Jackie giggles and wraps an arm around Shauna’s shoulders—squeezing her tight.

For a few minutes, they sit in a comfortable silence—Shauna’s head tucked against Jackie’s as the kitten sprawls across them like he’s never been happier.

If Jackie closed her eyes, she could imagine them like this forever; curled up with a kitten, shoulders pressed together, hearts beating in tandem.

Shauna exhales—long-suffering, but her fingers are still absently stroking Fitzgerald’s tiny back. “You’re gonna spoil him rotten, aren’t you?”

Jackie grins unrepentantly. “Obviously. Look at his little socks!” She lifts one of Fitz’s paws to show off the white-tipped toes—earning an indignant squeak from the kitten as he bats at her hand.

Shauna swallows hard. There’s something dangerously domestic about this whole scene that makes her chest ache. The thought makes Shauna’s heart kick slightly faster against her ribs—that maybe, she could have this. With Jackie.

“Whatever,” she mumbles, “Just don't come crying to me when he starts waking you up at 3 AM for snacks.”

Jackie gasps—as if personally offended on Fitz's behalf. "He would *never*. Right, baby?" She nuzzles the top of his head while he licks experimentally at her finger with a sandpaper tongue. "See? Angel."

*An absolute menace,* Shauna thinks, a bit too fondly.

A pause. Then—

"...We should probably get him actual cat food before my mom sees us feeding him deli meat like heathens."

She swallows hard, throat suddenly dry.

Fitzgerald chooses that precise moment to take Jackie’s finger into his mouth, suckling with great effort and making his owners gasp with collective awe.

A beat of silence before they simultaneously coo—voices tripping over each other in their enthusiasm.

"Oh my god—there’s actually no way.”

"Jackie, no—" Shauna tries, but it's no use.

"He's trying to drink from my hand! Look!" Jackie clutches Fitzgerald’s tiny body against her chest, beaming at Shauna with the blinding brilliance of a thousand suns. "He thinks I'm his *mom*!"

Fitzgerald squeaks with protest as a sudden deluge of motherly affection is heaped upon him.

Meanwhile, Shauna is trying very, very hard not to think about how the image of Jackie and Fitz curled up together like that has done a complete number on her brain.

Shauna blinks—suddenly grateful Fitzgerald has chosen now to be an adorable little weirdo because—

Because if he hadn’t—god, Jackie is right there. So close. Close enough to kiss, to feel their soft breaths mingle in the scant inches between them...

She clears her throat awkwardly, cheeks reddening at the realisation of where her thoughts just ventured.

“Probably hungry..”

"Right, right," Jackie says hastily, suddenly seeming very, very focused on making sure Fitz isn't drinking her finger anymore. She turns Fitz around to face Shauna, his tiny paws hanging like limp noodles. "We need to feed our little baby before he gets hangry."

"He's your little baby," Shauna quips back, but Jackie is too busy making kissy faces at the kitten to react.

Shauna rolls her eyes, shoving aside her earlier revelations and rising from the couch. She’s not gonna unpack those feelings right now.

Jackie watches Shauna walk toward the kitchen—then immediately panics when Fitzgerald suddenly wriggles free from her grasp and goes scampering after Shauna like a tiny, clumsy torpedo.

"Fitz—no! Come back!" She scrambles off the couch after him, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste. "Shauna! He's following you like a little duckling!"

Fitzgerald slides to an uncoordinated halt at Shauna’s ankles, looking up at her with wide, expectant eyes. It should be illegal to be this cute while being so incredibly annoying.

Shauna stares down at him. The kitten blinks innocently and lets out a pathetic meow that somehow manages to sound both demanding and pitiful all at once.

"...Traitor," she mutters under her breath—but she bends down anyway to scoop him up with one hand before he can trip either of them.

His tiny claws latch onto the fabric of her shirt immediately. Like clockwork.

A few minutes later, Shauna finds herself in her kitchen—half-heartedly trying to open a can of cat food while Fitzgerald gnaws determinedly on her fingers. Her other arm is hooked around Jackie's waist, holding back the excited whirlwind that is Jackie's attempts to help.

"*Stop*, Jax, oh my god, you're gonna make him choke—" Shauna snaps, yanking her poor fingers out of Fitz's mouth.

Jackie huffs. "I'm helping. Plus, you're too slow."

"He'll live!—“

But before she can finish her sentence, Fitzgerald directly into Shauna's face.

A beat of silence.

Then Jackie absolutely loses it—doubling over with laughter while Shauna stands frozen in mild horror and feline betrayal.

"...I hate both of you."

Shauna wipes the kitten sneeze off her face with exaggerated disgust, nose scrunched up. "Disgusting. You're both disgusting."

Jackie is still wheezing, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as she tries to catch her breath between giggles. "Oh my god—his little *face*—"

Fitzgerald looks entirely unrepentant, licking his tiny paw like nothing even happened.

"You," Shauna points an accusing finger at Jackie, "are a terrible influence. Literally encouraging him.”

A lie. They both know it.

Jackie finally straightens up, wiping under her eyes and grinning. "Aw, come on. He didn't mean it! Right, Fitz?"

Fitz blinks slowly at Shauna—the feline equivalent of sticking out his tongue.

"...Unbelievable." Shauna sighs dramatically before grabbing the can opener again. But she doesn't resist when Jackie leans against her shoulder to watch Fitz scarf down his dinner like he's never been fed before in his life.

Shauna watches with mild horror as Fitz practically inhales the cat food, tiny muzzle smeared with gravy. "...Does he have a pulse? Should we check?"

Jackie gasps, clutching her chest in exaggerated concern. *"Shauna!* Don't be mean to our son!" She scoops up Fitz—who is now licking his chops smugly—and cradles him like a baby again. "Ignore her, sweetie. Mommy's just jealous of your table manners."

*Our son.* The words make Shauna’s stomach do something complicated.

"Oh my god," Shauna groans, "You've officially lost it." But she can’t fight the stupid grin tugging at her lips as Jackie plants dramatic kisses all over Fitzgerald’s tiny head while he squirms indignantly.

She could get used to this.

Chapter Text

Shauna stands with her back slightly turned, fully immersed in scanning the spines of books on a high shelf, her posture relaxed yet purposeful. Her navy blue flannel—soft from countless washes—is rolled up to her elbows, revealing forearms adorned with delicate silver bracelets that jingle faintly when she moves. Beneath it, a well-worn Weezer t-shirt clings just enough to hint at the lean muscle earned from years of soccer and relentless running practices.

Her hair is a tousled mane of dark brown, barely contained by habitually nervous fingers pushing strands behind ears lined with tiny gold hoops. A few wayward pieces frame her face—round cheeks dusted pink from bookstore warmth as she scans page after page with quiet hunger.

Jackie found it irresistibly cute; Shauna looks through the books with so much dedication to find a gem in a sea of what she would probably call pretentious, generic fiction.

Jackie smirks to herself, shaking her head as she abandons the novelty toys section and drifts closer, arms crossed as she leans against a nearby shelf just watching Shauna for a moment. Then, with an exaggerated sigh—

"God, Shipman, you look like some kinda *romantic lead* right now." She flicks at the back of Shauna’s flannel collar teasingly. "You gonna pick something out already or are we gonna be here all night while you sniff every single page like it’s some ancient artefact?"

A pause. She tilts her head with faux curiosity. "Wait... do books even have expiration dates? Are you *checking*?"

Shauna’s expression shifts to one of slight embarrassment, or annoyance—or both, at her comment, but quickly returns to its normal ‘neutral, relaxed yet bored’ state.

She gives Jackie a side eye as she puts her hands in her pockets and lets out a heavy sigh.

“I hate that you make me seem like a massive geek or something, Jackie, but I guess there’s no avoiding it..”

“Yeah, they do have expiration dates, actually..” Shauna says it completely seriously.

*Jackie lets out an exaggerated gasp, hand flying to her chest like she’s scandalized—but her eyes are bright with mischief.

"Shauna Shipman, *certified* nerd," she declares, triumphant, "caught in the act of *book sniffing!*"

She leans in closer then, voice dropping to a whisper—as if sharing a conspiracy. "...But okay. Tell me for real. What's the deal with smelling them? Is it like... some kinda bookish wine tasting? Do you just *know* which ones are vintage?"

Shauna groans, rolling her eyes hard, but there’s the slightest amused twitch at the corner of her mouth.

“Oh my *god*, Jackie—you don’t *get it*,” she mutters, arms crossing defensively over her chest as she side-eyes a nearby shelf like it personally offended her.

Then, after a beat—because of course she can’t resist explaining—she turns back with an exasperated huff:

“It’s not about vintage or whatever. It’s about… I dunno. The musk? The paper quality? Some smell like libraries and some smell like someone left them in their grandma's basement for twenty years. It matters.” She pauses, then narrows her eyes suspiciously. “Wait—are you just trying to make fun of me?”

Jackie giggles softly, shaking her head as she steps back and folds her arms. Her gaze is equal parts teasing and affectionate.

"Can't a girl find her best friend adorable *and* tease her at the same time?" She bats her eyelashes, all mock-innocence. "Besides, Shauna, I don’t think you need me to make you look like a geek. Pretty sure your extensive knowledge of 'paper musk' and vintage sniffing skills have that covered."

She grins, poking Shauna's side.

"...But seriously. You look cute when you’re all concentrated like that.”

Shauna’s face flushes at the sudden compliments, something about the way Jackie says ‘cute’ making her heart stutter a little. It’s not like people haven’t complimented Shauna before but this is.. different. Because it’s Jackie. Her best friend. And she just called her ‘adorable’ and said she’s cute now and—

Shauna clears her throat, attempting to shrug off the weird warmth rising in her chest.

"Oh my God, Jackie... seriously?" she mutters, rolling her eyes. "I'm sure there's plenty of other cute things in the world to focus on besides my *concentration skills*."

Still, she can't help the tiny smile that tugs at her lips as she starts rummaging through more books, trying to distract herself from the strange butterflies in her stomach.

"...Thanks, though. I guess," she adds, a quiet afterthought.

Jackie watches Shauna’s flustered reaction with delight, as if she had won some sort of unspoken competition, her grin widening as she sidles closer again—close enough that their shoulders brush, just to test the waters.

"Ohhh, *Shipman*," she coos in a sing-song voice, "did I actually manage to make you blush? For once?"

She leans in even further, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "You know what this means... now I *have* to keep complimenting you. Just to see if it happens again."

A playful pause—then she dramatically gasps, "Wait. Is this why you never let me pick out your outfits? Because deep down, you *know* I'd make you look too good and then what would happen? Huh??"

Shauna scoffs loudly, tossing a book back onto the shelf with slightly more force than necessary—but Jackie can see how red her ears are getting.

"Jesus *Christ*, Jackie," she grumbles, refusing to look at her directly, "you're acting like I don't let you pick my clothes because I'm some kind of... emotional coward or something."

She shoves her hands into her pockets and kicks at the ground before muttering, "It's 'cause you have objectively terrible taste. Obviously."

A beat. Then she peeks up through her lashes—testing Jackie's reaction. Her classic dramatic way of looking for Jackie’s attention — saying things she didn’t even mean.

Jackie lets out a soft laugh, leaning back against the bookshelf and folding her arms leisurely across her chest as she watches Shauna’s flustered antics. It’s amusing, really, watching Shauna try to pretend she’s not utterly undone by a few compliments.

"Aw, Shauna, don't be like that," she teases with an exaggerated pout, nudging her shoulder against Shauna’s.

"I'm just pointing out how utterly adorable you get when I say nice things about you."

Her voice softens slightly.

Shauna scoffs, rolling her eyes and folding her arms tightly across her chest to help hide just how much Jackie has gotten to her. She's always been a terrible actor.

"You're insufferable," she grumbles. Then, begrudgingly: "Fine. Next time we hang out, you can pick out what I'm going to wear."

But, still wanting to try to maintain some control, Shauna quickly adds: "I reserve the right to veto any outfit, though. And also, I reserve the right to veto your veto."

Jackie gasps dramatically, clutching her chest like she’s been wounded—but her eyes are practically sparkling with victory.

"Shauna *Shipman* just gave me *full styling privileges?!*" She twirls in place a little, as if celebrating this monumental achievement. "I think I just won the friendship lottery."

A mischievous pause. Then— "...Wait. No vetoes on my veto? That doesn’t even make sense. Are you making up rules to sabotage me?"

She narrows her eyes playfully, stepping closer and poking Shauna's arm. "You're *already* scared of how good I'm gonna make you look, aren't you?"

Chapter Text

Sure enough, the next time they hangout, Jackie is lounging on Shauna’s bed, watching as she skims through all of her shirts and endless flannel collection.

Shauna huffs, holding up yet another flannel and squinting at it critically before tossing it onto her growing pile of rejected outfits. "Ugh, why do I even own this many? They all look the same."

She glances back at Jackie sprawled on her bed like she owns the place—which, honestly, she kind of does—and narrows her eyes suspiciously.

"...You're *laughing* at me right now, aren't you?"

Jackie, draped dramatically over Shauna’s bed like some kind of bored royalty, props her chin on her hand and grins—all teeth.

"Me? Laughing at you? *Never.*" She lets out a dramatic sigh, "I'm just admiring your... unique fashion sense. A sea of flannels. Truly inspiring."

Then she sits up suddenly, swinging her legs over the side of the bed with purpose. "Alright, Shipman—enough stalling." She claps once. "Go put on that dark green Henley I threw at you five minutes ago. And yes," she adds smugly, "the black jeans too."

Shauna groans, holding up the henley like it personally offended her. "Jackie, I *never* wear stuff like this—"

But she’s already stomping toward the bathroom to change anyway. Because of course she is.

(Five minutes later)

She steps out awkwardly, tugging at the sleeves of the henley like they might bite her. "...See? Told you it looks weird," she mutters—but there's something almost hopeful in her tone. Like maybe she wants Jackie to say otherwise.

Jackie sits up, her expression changing from one of casual confidence to wide-eyed surprise. She lets out a low whistle, raking her gaze down Shauna’s frame without a hint of subtlety.

“Wow. Well, *someone’s* got legs for days,” she drawls, biting down on her lower lip, the playful edge to her voice still very much present. “That outfit is definitely doing things for ya’, Shipman. You look..” She tilts her head, eyes bright.

“You look *good.”*

She hops off the bed, circling Shauna with exaggerated scrutiny. "I mean, I *knew* you'd look good in anything I picked, but this is just unfair."

A pause. Then she reaches out without thinking, adjusting the collar of Shauna’s henley slightly before pulling back quickly—like she got burned. "...Told you my taste wasn't terrible," she adds quietly, "Even if you *did* fight me every step of the way."

Shauna swallows hard, suddenly hyper-aware of Jackie’s lingering touch—and the way her stomach flips when Jackie looks at her like that. Like she’s something worth looking at.

“Yeah, well…” Her voice comes out gruffer than intended, and she clears her throat, “Broken clocks and all that.”

But she can’t stop the stupid little pleased smile creeping onto her face—or how her fingers keep fidgeting with the hem of the henley. Like she’s trying to memorize how it feels to be seen like this. By Jackie. In clothes that aren’t just hiding her.

(Silently, she files this moment away for later. To dissect when Jackie isn't looking at her like that.)

A beat of silence. Then Shauna shifts awkwardly—almost shyly—before muttering:

“…Thanks. I guess.” (Translation: You were right and I loved every second of this.)

Jackie’s grin softens—just a little—at Shauna’s awkward, barely-there gratitude. It's so *Shauna*, this reluctant admission that Jackie might have had a point, and it makes something warm bloom in her chest.

"*I guess?*" she echoes with mock offence, "After all my hard work? After I single-handedly dragged you out of your flannel prison?"

She nudges Shauna lightly with her elbow, but there's no real bite to it—just fondness. "You're welcome, dummy."

(She files away the way Shauna looked at her too—the flicker of vulnerability in those big shiny brown eyes that always make Jackie feel like she’s looking at a kicked puppy.)

Jackie doesn’t miss the way Shauna seems to preen ever so slightly under the praise. The slight smile that tugs at the corners of Shauna’s mouth is all the confirmation she needs to know Shauna secretly loves this—and that revelation almost makes Jackie dizzy.

This is new territory—seeing Shauna so visibly pleased by her approval. It’s intoxicating.

A pause. Then she tilts her head, considering: "...So. You keeping it on for the rest of the day or what? Because I vote yes. Strongly."

Shauna’s cheeks flush pink again, but she doesn’t look directly at Jackie—because she already knows that those green eyes will see straight through her if she does.

“Jesus, Jackie... You make it sound like it’s some kind of groundbreaking fashion statement or something. It’s just a shirt,” Shauna mumbles, even as she knows it’s more than that. It’s Jackie’s hands adjusting her collar, her eyes roaming over every inch of her, her approval that makes Shauna feel like she’s melting from the inside out.

"Don't get used to it, Jax," she warns half-heartedly. But there's no real conviction behind it—just that same quiet thrill of Jackie’s approval buzzing under her skin.

She *should* change back. She knows this is dangerous territory. But God, does she want to stay like this just a little longer.

"...Fine," she mutters after a beat, "But only because I'm too lazy to argue with you right now." (Translation: I love how you look at me like this and it scares me.)

Jackie hums, satisfied, maybe a little too delighted at the way Shauna caves so easily. It feels like winning something she didn’t even know she was competing for. Like she doesn't see straight through Shauna's bluster and bravado. But she does—of course she does. She always has.

And maybe that's why she keeps pushing. Keeps seeking out that shy look of pleased embarrassment, like Shauna's trying to hide how much she's enjoying this—how much she wants Jackie to keep looking at her, keep admiring her, keep... noticing her.

Shauna's agreement is as good as an admission—both that the outfit is a winner, and that Shauna secretly loves being the centre of Jackie's attention right now.

She lets Shauna's awkward attempts to hide her pleasure slide, even as the sight of Shauna, all dressed up and flustered, stirs something warm and unfamiliar in Jackie's chest—something that makes her want to poke and prod just to unravel her a little more.

Jackie practically glows with amusement, eyes dancing as she drinks in Shauna’s flustered reaction. Oh, she’s in deep now—so completely addicted to Shauna being so visibly affected by her compliments and attention that she could hardly breathe.

“Lazy, huh?” Jackie echoes, her voice low and teasing, close enough that Shauna could feel her breath on her skin. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Chapter Text

Shauna’s breath hitches at their proximity, the intimacy of this moment suddenly washing over her like a wave. Jackie is standing so close that Shauna can see every shade of green in her eyes, and all she can manage is a quiet, strained:

“Jackie…” It comes out on a shaky exhale, her voice tinged with a million unspoken words. But mostly just confusion. Because she doesn’t know what she’s feeling, other than the fact that it’s completely overwhelming, and she has to bite back the sudden urge to do something stupid—like run like hell, or lean in.

Jackie's heart pounds in her chest as she realises the closeness, the weight of the moment between them—but she doesn't back away. Her hand twitches, aching to reach out and touch Shauna, to run her fingers along her cheek, brush her hair back—something. But she forces herself to repress those desires and let them burn in her chest, like always.

"Yeah, Shauna?" Her voice is barely above a whisper, and she's not even sure what she's asking for. What she wants. But she knows she can't look away from Shauna's eyes.

"Is... everything okay?" She asks softly, because Shauna suddenly looks like a startled deer, and Jackie finds herself wanting to reassure her—wanting Shauna to feel safe with her. Wanting Shauna.

Shauna's throat constricts, and God, she feels like she might cry or bolt—maybe both.
This.. *thing* between them keeps shifting underfoot like loose sand and Shauna doesn't know if she should run or dig in deeper.

Shauna’s throat feels tight. Jackie is too close—so, so close—and it should feel suffocating, but instead all she wants is to *close the gap completely.* It's terrifying.

"I- I don't know..." she stammers, swallowing hard. Her eyes are so wide, so vulnerable, and all she can think is that Jackie's hand is just inches from her cheek.

"Jackie, what..." She trails off, unable to form coherent words as she takes a subconscious step closer—their faces mere inches apart now. "...what are we *doing?*"

A question that's bigger than this moment, than the space between them, too close to something they’ve never let themselves name.

Jackie's skin flushes, her breathing shallow, because Shauna's words—*What are we doing?*—hit her like a blow to the gut. Because how does she answer that when she can't even put words to what's been brewing between them for years? Something that's felt like a secret and a thrill all tangled up in one.

She doesn't want to break whatever spell they're under—to shatter this perfect moment. But she also knows they can't stay like this, suspended in the unknown.

She feels it too, this thing they’ve never dared to name, simmering between them. And suddenly she wants to answer so badly it aches.

But fear—stupid, stubborn fear—lodges itself in her throat before she can speak.

Instead of answering honestly (because what would that even look like?), Jackie exhales shakily and leans just a fraction closer—testing, daring Shauna to meet her halfway. Her fingers ghost over Shauna’s wrist like an unspoken promise.

"...I don't know," she murmurs back with a shaky laugh, "But we're really bad at stopping."

Shauna feels it—Jackie’s fingers against her wrist, the slightest press of skin against skin, and suddenly she can’t breathe.

Because Jackie is right.

They *are* bad at stopping. At drawing lines in the sand and not toeing them. At pretending this isn’t something bigger than just friendship.

And maybe that's the scariest part—that they never could.

Shauna’s pulse spikes under Jackie’s fingers—warm, grounding. She knows this moment is tipping dangerously toward something irreversible. And yet... she doesn’t pull away.

Instead, her voice drops to a rough whisper—equal parts terrified and desperate:

"Maybe I don't *want* to stop."

A beat of silence where the admission hangs between them, raw and trembling with honesty. Shauna can hardly breathe around it—but for once, she isn't running from the truth.

She just hopes Jackie won’t either.

And then—and she's not even sure who moves first—their lips are brushing, just barely. So soft, so gentle, yet it sends a surge of heat through Shauna unlike anything she's ever felt before. Her skin buzzes, electric, like coming alive for the first time.

The world narrows to this—the soft press of Shauna’s lips, hesitant and warm, the way Jackie can feel her own pulse fluttering wildly in her throat. It’s barely even a kiss, more like a question—one she’d been terrified of answering for years.

But now that it's happening? Jackie doesn't hesitate.

One hand flies up to cradle Shauna's face—gentle but firm, whilst the others’ fingers tangles into the front of Shauna’s stupid Henley (the one *she* picked out), like she's afraid Shauna will bolt if she doesn't hold on tight enough. And then she kisses her properly. Really kisses her. Because how could she not? She tastes like strawberry chapstick and something unnameably *Shauna*, familiar yet thrillingly new all at once.

It isn’t graceful. Their noses bump awkwardly at first and Jackie might have accidentally bitten down on Shauna’s lip in her haste—but none of that matters. Not when every nerve in her body is alight with the simple realisation: *Shauna is kissing her back.*

It feels inevitable; like every secret glance and lingering touch across years of friendship was just leading to this moment.

Shauna's breath shudders against Jackie's mouth, every coherent thought dissolving into static—because this is *Jackie* *kissing her, touching her, holding onto her like she might disappear. And Shauna wants to laugh and sob at the same time because it feels so right and terrifying all at once.

Her fingers clutch at Jackie’s waist, pulling her closer with a desperate urgency that shocks even herself. Like she’s been starving for this without realising it—like every joke and stolen glance was just treading water until now.

She tastes like mint gum and vanilla gloss—so painfully familiar that Shauna feels dizzy with it. Their teeth clack together when Jackie surges forward again; neither of them knows what they're doing but God if Shauna isn't determined to learn.

A soft whine escapes the back of Shauna’s throat as Jackie nips playfully at her bottom lip (since when was Jackie Taylor so good at this?).

Chapter Text

The next morning, Shauna picks Jackie up like always—like last night didn’t rewrite every unspoken rule between them. Like she didn’t spend hours replaying the way Jackie’s fingers curled into her shirt, or how their lips fit together in a way that felt more inevitable than accidental.

Jackie slides into the passenger seat like it's any other morning—except it's not. Because now she knows how Shauna tastes, the way her breath hitches when Jackie nips at her bottom lip, the desperate clutch of her fingers in Jackie’s hair.

She keeps her sunglasses on even though it's barely bright out, chewing idly on a stick of gum as she pointedly stares out the window. But every so often—when Shauna shifts gears or adjusts the radio—Jackie sneaks glances at her profile: The flush still lingering high on Shauna’s cheeks, how stiffly she holds herself against the driver’s seat.

They don't talk about it. They probably won't for a while.

(But they also don't stop stealing glances when they think the other isn't looking.)

Shauna grips the steering wheel tighter than necessary, knuckles whitening as she tries to focus on the road instead of how close Jackie is—how her perfume fills the car like a taunt. The memory of last night presses against her ribs like a second heartbeat.

(She should say something. Anything. But what? Sorry for kissing you? Thanks for kissing me back?)

A muscle jumps in Shauna’s jaw as she fights the urge to glance sideways—but then Jackie shifts, crossing her legs, and Shauna’s traitorous eyes flicker over before she can stop them.

(Stupid.)

Jackie catches the glance—of course she does—and a slow, knowing smirk tugs at the corner of her mouth. She turns just enough to face Shauna, sunglasses still hiding her eyes but doing nothing to mask the smugness in her voice.

"See something you like, Shipman?" she teases lightly, popping her gum between words just to watch Shauna's jaw clench harder.

It's a deflection—a way to poke without acknowledging what really happened.

She stretches her legs out deliberately, toe of her shoe brushing the side of Shauna’s jeans just to watch her stiffen.

"You seem... tense." She observes innocently. Her voice lilts teasingly on the last word, loaded with implications.

And maybe this is better than talking about it outright—this familiar dance of provocation and pretending nothing has changed. Because at least like this, Jackie can pretend she isn't burning with the memory too.

Shauna’s fingers twitch against the wheel, and she can *feel* Jackie watching her—studying every tiny reaction like she always does. Like it’s a game.

(Which, honestly? It kind of is now.)

"Jesus Christ, Jax," she mutters through gritted teeth, "You're *insufferable.*"

But her traitorous pulse kicks up anyway when Jackie's foot nudges her leg—deliberate and infuriatingly casual. Because of course Shauna remembers how her hands gripped the front of her shirt last night, pulling her in like they owned her. And maybe they do.)

A beat too late, Shauna finally risks a glance sideways—just long enough to catch that stupid smirk under Jackie's sunglasses before scowling back at the road. "You wish I was staring."

—

A few days later, Shauna is late for practice due to waking up far too late, which she’s never done before. Part of her chooses to believe that her tossing and turning whilst thinking of a certain honey blonde in the middle of the night is the culprit..

Jackie is subsequently left Shaunaless for almost a whole game and makes it the whole team’s problem before she eventually arrives.

—

Jackie prowls the sidelines like a caged animal, her usual sharp passes landing just a little too hard—enough that even Coach Martinez raises an eyebrow at her uncharacteristic aggression. When Nat makes the mistake of asking where Shauna is, Jackie’s glare could melt steel.

“*Wouldn’t know,*” she snaps before turning on her heel to aggressively steal the ball from Laura Lee mid-dribble.

And if she maybe, *possibly*, spends the entire first half shooting pointed looks toward the parking lot every thirty seconds? Well. That’s nobody’s business.

"Where *is* she?" Jackie snaps for the fifth time in ten minutes, kicking at a rogue soccer ball with unnecessary force. It ricochets off a bench loud enough to make Nat flinch nearby.

She’s not worried. Obviously. She just—she needs Shauna here.

—

When Shauna finally jogs onto the field halfway through drills—hair still damp from what was clearly a rushed shower—Jackie doesn't even pretend to hide her irritation. Or how she visibly straightens up upon seeing her.

"Oh look," she calls loudly enough for everyone to hear, "The ghost of Shipman past finally graces us with her presence!"

"You're *late,*" *Jackie accuses, almost childishly.

Shauna barely has time to register Jackie’s outburst before she’s met with the full force of her glare—and wow, okay, Jackie is *pissed.* Shauna should probably be more concerned about that, but all she can think is how unfairly pretty Jackie looks when she’s angry. The flush on her cheeks, the way her ponytail swishes with every sharp movement—it's distracting as hell.

Not that Shauna would ever admit that out loud.

Shauna’s cheeks flush as she jogs over to the rest of the team, panting* “I’m *here*, Jackie—Jeez, relax. Traffic was a nightmare.”

A lie. A terrible one at that.

But then Nat snorts from nearby and mutters something under her breath about "traffic my ass," which earns an elbow from Tai and a withering look from Shauna.

Great. Even they're in on it now.

"Whatever,” she says gruffly, “I'm here now."

And while she’ll never admit it, she *likes* seeing a hint of possessiveness from Jackie. It makes her chest warm like a crackling fireplace. Makes her want to provoke Jackie more—see how far she can push her.

“What? Miss me?” Shauna teases in a low voice, lips turned up in an amused smirk despite still being out of breath.

With the way Shauna looks, panting and red-faced—looking unfairly cute and disheveled with flyaway hairs sticking to her sweaty forehead—all Jackie wants to do is grab her face and kiss her. Instead, she settles for crossing her arms, jutting her chin stubbornly, and hoping her stern expression is a sufficient cover for the way her resolve practically crumbles now that Shauna’s standing beside her, all sweaty and disheveled and grinning like the cat that got the cream.

Shauna’s teasing lilt—her stupid amusement at Jackie’s concern.

Jackie’s eyes flash—like she can't decide whether to strangle Shauna or kiss her senseless right there on the field. (And honestly? She might do both.)

"Miss you?" She scoffs, stepping so close their cleats nearly touch, voice dropping to a whisper only Shauna can hear: "I was about to send out a *search party.* Do you know how **boring** practice is without you here to steal my passes?"

The truth is, Jackie spent the whole first half vibrating with restless energy—like her body forgot how to function properly without Shauna nearby.

That smirk of Shauna’s is insufferable. Because she looks annoyingly good even while sweating and disheveled from rushing here.

A pause as she leans in closer, her voice low:

"Nice shirt, by the way," she murmurs pointedly, "It'd look better on my floor."

A cheap shot—but one she knows will fluster Shauna beyond repair in front of everyone else. And oh, does Jackie live for that reaction.

Shauna’s mouth falls open slightly at Jackie’s whispered words, her cheeks instantly going nuclear. She barely manages to choke out a strangled noise before Coach Martinez blows the whistle sharply, calling them all back into formation.

Thank god for small mercies.

Still, Shauna can practically feel Jackie's smirk burning into her as they jog back onto the field together—close enough that their fingers brush intentionally (because Jackie just *had* to get one last jab in). And despite herself? Shauna grins right back. Because this is how it always is with them: Push and pull. Bite and tease.

And now they have a whole new way to mess with each other.

A few feet away, Nat mutters something under her breath about “gross sexual tension” while Tai pretends not to hear. But neither of them miss the way Shauna keeps glancing at Jackie when she thinks no one’s looking—or how Jackie subtly tugs at the hem of Shauna's shirt during water breaks just to see her squirm.

Maybe they should talk about what happened eventually. But for now? This is fun.

Chapter Text

Shauna is dragged to the mall by Jackie, which she has surprisingly grown to like, never mind the fact that it had to happen innumerable times for her to feel that way.

The main things she disliked were having to crowd in those changing rooms that seemed to always be tiny on purpose, and how clammy she got when she was in them for too long, which was often due to Jackie’s pickiness when it came to clothes..

Otherwise, how could she possibly hate the feeling of Jackie looking to her for advice on which clothes suited her best? And even better, being able to see her in outfits which she knew she had encouraged Jackie to get, and had even been the first person to see her in them.

And the way Jackie ran each trip like the navy was nothing short of hilarious, and even endearing—the way she hunted for clothes and accessories that they could match together in.

Shauna huffs as Jackie shoves yet another outfit into her arms—some frilly little sundress that Shauna is 100% *not* trying on, no matter how much Jackie bats her eyelashes at her.

"Jackie, I swear to *God*, if you make me try this one on too—"

"But it’s *cute!*" Jackie whines dramatically, "And it would look so good with your stupid belt collection."

It's a lie. The dress wouldn't survive five minutes in Shauna's chaotic wardrobe. But the idea of seeing Shauna in something delicate and soft—something so very un-Shauna-like—has Jackie buzzing.

A pause. Then Jackie leans in conspiratorially, “If you try it on... I'll buy you that band tee we saw earlier." She knows exactly how weak that makes Shauna.

Shauna’s grip on the dress tightens—just a little—at the mention of the tee. It’s an old Weezer one from some obscure tour, frayed at the edges and probably overpriced, but she *had* glanced at it for a second too long. Stupid Jackie and her stupidly perceptive eyes. Of *course* Jackie would weaponize her love for obscure band tees against her. And worse? It’s working.

One little white lie to herself couldn't hurt. I'm putting it on because of the shirt. Totally not because I'll do anything Jackie asks.

The worst part is that Shauna kind of wants to see Jackie's reaction if she actually wears it.

"Fine," she grumbles, snatching the hanger and stomping toward the changing room like a petulant child—but not before shooting Jackie a pointed look. "You're buying me *two* shirts after this."

Inside the cramped stall, Shauna scowls at herself in the mirror as she wrestles with the stupidly tiny zipper. The dress is all frills and pastel pink—something she'd normally never be caught dead in. But then again... maybe that's why Jackie picked it.

A beat passes before she reluctantly steps out, arms crossed defensively over her chest (as if that could somehow hide how exposed she feels).

Jackie looks up from her bored inspection of the store racks, expecting to see Shauna in a scowl and probably trying to escape the dress. But she finds herself caught off guard by the sight of Shauna in that stupid pink dress instead, the soft fabric draping over her frame and those frilly straps contrasting with the sharp lines of Shauna’s shoulders. Shauna looks unfairly good like this—all ruffled and flushed, shifting awkwardly under Jackie’s stare like she wants to bolt back into the changing room.

Her heart flutters in her chest.

Shauna’s hands are tugging at the hem self-consciously—like she's embarrassed—but Jackie is too busy trying to process this sudden shift to care. She’s almost blinded by the pink fabric clinging to her curves in all the right places, delicate ruffles skimming her collarbone, long legs sticking out of the high slit in the dress’s skirt.

Because, okay, it's not *just* about the fact that Shauna's wearing a dress. It's also the fact that Shauna's actually wearing something so soft and pastel—so different from her usual worn-out jeans and band tees.

It makes her look kind of... delicate. Fragile, even. In a way that makes Jackie's pulse kick up a notch.

*God, she's pretty.*

Jackie's gaze roams appreciatively up Shauna's frame before finally locking with *her* gaze, eyes wide and dark—and Shauna recognises that look. She's seen it in guys before, but in Jackie? It sends something hot and forbidden straight to her stomach.

A pause. Then—without thinking—Jackie whispers: "Wow."

"You look *amazing.* Like, stupidly good."

Shauna freezes at the breathless sincerity in Jackie’s voice—way more affected than she’d ever admit, heat crawling up her neck as Jackie stares at her like *that*. Like Shauna’s something to be admired. Something worth looking at.

She should hate this. The dress is too tight, too frilly, too not-her. But under Jackie's gaze? She feels... exposed in a way that has nothing to do with fabric and everything to do with how openly Jackie is drinking her in.

If Shauna looks half as flustered as she feels right now? She's doomed.

God help me, Shauna thinks faintly.

So much for playing it cool when she's wearing a dress so frilly and girly. She feels so… exposed like this—all soft lines and vulnerable curves, nothing to hide behind. It's overwhelming. She wants to run and never see Jackie's reaction again. But another part of her wants to stand here and bask in it like a sunbeam.

She lets her arms fall from her chest self-consciously, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and trying to ignore how vulnerable she feels—how obvious it is that she's craving Jackie's approval.

"You're.. you're serious? It's not too frilly?" She hates the way her voice goes all soft and uncertain, but she can't help herself.

"It's weird. And itchy." Lies. The fabric is butter-soft against her skin, but admitting that feels too much like surrender.

Jackie’s lips part—just slightly—as Shauna *tugs at the hem again*, that stubborn flush creeping higher on her cheeks. And oh, Jackie *sees* it. The way Shauna’s fingers tremble ever so slightly, how her big brown eyes flicker between defiance and desperate uncertainty.

She wants to bottle this moment. Wants to memorise every second of Shauna like this—unraveled and exposed because of *her*.

Jackie steps closer without thinking, fingers twitching with the urge to touch, but she stops just short—hovering in that torturous space between them.

And maybe it's because Jackie can see how hard Shauna is trying to play this off—how desperately she's pretending not to care when her entire body language screams otherwise.

"Frilly?" she echoes softly, "Yeah. And you hate it." A tease. "But also? It's kind of perfect on you."

Chapter Text

On yet another one of their days out strolling past shops together, Jackie drags Shauna into a random gift shop because she saw a cute bunny plushy in the display window, which she has seemingly always loved.

And yet, as soon as they walk in, Jackie lets out a little gasp — she’s set eyes on something even better..

Keychains of various little stuffed animals, lined up in rows.

Yet another something that Jackie can make them match together with. It’s almost like it’s pre-destined, and Shauna can’t decide if she loves or hates it.

Shauna barely has time to register the rows of keychains before Jackie’s already snatching two—one with a tiny honey-blonde rabbit and another with a brown bear, both ridiculously fluffy and way too overpriced for what they are. But Jackie doesn’t seem to care, practically vibrating with excitement as she shoves the rabbit one at Shauna.

Shauna opens her mouth to argue—to point out that they don’t *need* another set of ridiculous twin accessories—but then Jackie beams at her with those big green eyes and suddenly resistance feels impossible. Stupid Jackie and her stupidly effective puppy-dog stare.

"Look!" she says breathlessly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, "They match *us*! The bears’s all shy and grumpy—” she pokes Shauna’s side teasingly “—and this one? Literally *me*. Look at its stupid little bow!"

It does have a bow. A pink one, just like the ribbon Jackie used to tie her hair back today, and, frankly, the grumpy brown bear looks way too much like Shauna for comfort.

Shauna blinks down at it, "...You're gonna make me carry this around everywhere now, aren't you?"

Jackie beams. *"Obviously."*

Shauna sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes—but there's no real bite to it. In fact, the corners of her lips twitch upwards despite herself as she plucks the bear keychain from Jackie’s hand. She turns it over in her fingers, inspecting the tiny scowling face and ridiculous fluff.

(God, it really *does* look like her.)

"Fine," she mutters, "But I'm not putting this on my keys." A lie. She absolutely will—just to see Jackie light up every time she notices it dangling there.

Jackie isn't fooled for a second. She knows Shauna better than that.

Instead of calling her out, Jackie just grins triumphantly and loops the rabbit keychain onto her own bag with exaggerated care—like it’s some priceless artifact instead of a five-dollar piece of fluff from a random gift shop.

"There!" she declares, "Now everyone who sees us will know we belong together."

The words slip out before she can stop them—too earnest, too telling.

A beat passes where neither moves. Then Jackie clears her throat awkwardly and gestures toward the cash register like nothing happened.

If Shauna noticed Jackie’s slip of the tongue, she doesn’t comment—just follows Jackie to the register in a daze because Jesus Christ, those words shouldn’t make her heart race this fast. They’ve been tied at the hip forever—but *belong* together? It makes her stomach do this weird fluttering thing despite herself—and she has to bite her tongue to keep from admitting that she likes the idea of being associated with Jackie permanently. Not just now, but forever. Jackie and Shauna; Shauna and Jackie. JackieandShauna.

The thought makes something warm and dangerous unfurl in the pit of her stomach—a secret thrill that sends heat crawling up her neck. And it’s all Jackie’s fault for looking at her with those big green eyes and stupid pretty smile that makes it nearly impossible to resist anything she asks.

Belonging together. If only. If only that was true. But it can’t be, right? Because Jackie isn’t like her. Jackie likes boys. Likes kissing boys and giggling about it in her bedroom after curfew. She doesn’t look at girls like Shauna sometimes catches herself doing. And even if she could look at Shauna that way, Shauna’s not sure she could survive it. Because being friends with Jackie Taylor is already overwhelming.

She simply clears her throat and stands by Jackie at the counter, where she practically skips to check out—humming happily as she exchanges money for the keychains.

Jackie catches the way Shauna’s jaw clenches, the flicker of something unreadable—maybe longing, maybe resignation—in her eyes before she looks away. For a second, Jackie wonders if she crossed a line. If saying they *belong together* was too much, too revealing.

But then Shauna reaches over and picks up one of the discarded keychains from the counter display—a tiny raccoon with goofy embroidered eyes—and holds it up with an arched brow.

"Think Nat would wear this if we got it for her?" Shauna asks dryly. A deflection. A change of subject so smooth Jackie almost doesn’t notice.

Almost.

A beat passes where Jackie debates pushing—demanding to know what that look meant. But then Shauna smirks and nudges their shoulders together like nothing happened, and suddenly Jackie can’t remember why she was worried in the first place.

"Oh my God," she gasps instead, seizing on the distraction, "We *have* to get it for her just to see her reaction!" She swipes it off the counter with glee before turning back to add it to their purchase.

Jackie watches Shauna out of the corner of her eye as the cashier hands her the tiny bag with their keychains inside. There's a quiet tension hanging between them now—one that wasn’t there before Jackie accidentally said too much. Before Shauna got that faraway look in her eyes like she was trying to solve some impossible puzzle.

(Did she notice? Is she upset? Does she hate me now?)

Jackie swallows hard, fingers twisting around the bag strap as they step back outside into the afternoon sunlight. She *hates* this—the uncertainty, the way one wrong word could unravel everything between them if she’s not careful.

But then again… maybe it wouldn’t.

A beat passes before Jackie hesitantly nudges Shauna’s shoulder with her own—gentle, testing. "So…" she starts lamely, "Wanna get milkshakes?" (A peace offering. A return to normalcy.)

(Please say yes please say yes please say—)

Shauna exhales—something between a laugh and a sigh of relief—because *of course* Jackie would suggest milkshakes as a distraction. As if strawberry syrup and whipped cream could magically erase the weight of what just happened between them. And honestly? Shauna’s grateful for it.

She can’t handle thinking too hard about Jackie saying they belong together right now. Not when her heart is still doing somersaults in her chest, not when she can still feel the phantom press of Jackie’s shoulder against hers.

"Only if you're paying," she teases, nudging Jackie back with her elbow—lighter now, easier, "Since you *forced* me into this whole matching-keychains-like-we're-in-middle-school thing."

It's an olive branch. A silent agreement to pretend neither of them noticed anything weird just now.

Jackie grins like she won something, looping her arm through Shauna’s as they start walking down the street toward their usual diner. "Deal," she chirps, "But I get to steal your cherry."

And just like that, the tension dissolves—forgotten but not gone.

Chapter Text

Shauna is accepted into Brown and Jackie into Rutgers, and it’s safe to say that she is pretty terrible and trying to pretend she doesn’t regret every decision that has led up to this point.

Because of course she would be in denial about feeling a pit in her stomach every time she wakes up to a roommate that isn’t Jackie.

She keeps telling herself itself it’s for the best, that they weren’t good for each other, that this is what she wanted, as if she doesn't still space out everyday thinking about what Jackie could be doing without her.

Going on mall trips with her new best friends. Hooking up with stupid jocks. What if she had got a new haircut? What if she’d changed her style?

It almost felt instinctual for Shauna to yearn to know about Jackie, and it was killing her. And even worse, everything pink and green or bunny themed reminded her of Jackie. Her Jax.

And that’s why, one night, Shauna did something stupid. She picked up her phone and dialled Jackie’s number. Her fingers flew over the keypad with embarrassing precision.

The phone rings once. Twice. Three times—each one stretching longer than the last, each one making Shauna’s pulse spike until she’s *this close* to hanging up like a coward.

What is she even going to say? Hey, I know we haven't spoken in months and I ghosted you right after graduation—but do you ever think about how we made out in my car that one time?

Then—a click.

"**Shauna?**" Jackie's voice crackles through the line—sharp with disbelief, laced with something raw that makes Shauna’s stomach flip. And just like that, all the carefully rehearsed words dissolve into static in her head.

She sounds exactly the same.

A beat of silence stretches between them, thick enough to choke on. Then Jackie exhales sharply, "Are you drunk?" It's supposed to sound annoyed but comes out too shaky for it to land.

"No," Shauna rasps before she can stop herself, "I just... missed your voice." The admission hangs there—quiet and fragile and way too honest for 2 AM on a Tuesday.

There’s a sharp inhale on the other end of the line—like Jackie wasn’t expecting that, like Shauna just knocked the air out of her lungs. And for a second, there’s nothing but static and ragged breathing between them.

Jackie’s fingers tighten around her phone so hard it creaks. Because she *hates* this. Hates how easily Shauna can still unravel her with just a few words after all this time.

"You don't get to do that,"she finally grits out, "You don't get to disappear for months and then call me in the middle of the night saying shit like that." Her voice wavers despite herself.

Shauna flinches because yeah—fair.

"I know," she murmurs, "I just... needed to hear you." Another dangerous admission, another crack in the dam she's spent months building.

A beat passes before Jackie lets out a shuddering breath. "...Are you okay?" It comes out quiet—too soft, too worried, too much like old times when they'd stay up whispering secrets under blankets.

Shauna closes her eyes tight, fingers gripping the phone like a lifeline. The familiar ache in Jackie’s voice—that blend of anger and care—cuts deeper than any insult ever could. Because she *knows* this tone. Knows it’s the one Jackie uses when she’s trying not to cry, when she wants to stay mad but can’t help but fold.

Shauna closes her eyes, the weight of Jackie's concern pressing against her ribs like a fist. It’s too much—the way Jackie still *cares*, still asks, still sounds like she’d drop everything and drive to Rhode Island if Shauna said the word.

She could lie. She *should* lie. But—

"No," she whispers instead, "Not really." And god, it feels good to admit it.

A pause. Then—Jackie exhales sharply. "Tell me.” Just two words, but they undo Shauna completely.

Because this is how it always was with them—no explanations needed. Just trust falling into place like muscle memory.

Shauna swallows hard before speaking again, "I miss you," it spills out before she can stop it, "...and I think I fucked up." The understatement of the century.

On the other end of the line, Jackie goes very still because holy shit — since when does Shauna Shipman admit she's wrong? Since when does she sound this small?

Jackie’s breath hitches audibly—like Shauna just punched her in the gut. Because this? This isn’t how their fights usually go. Shauna doesn’t *admit* things. She deflects, she hides, she runs. But here she is now, voice raw and cracking open on the other end of the line like some dam finally broke inside her.

And Jackie—God help her—is still weak for it.

"You *think*?" she snaps back reflexively, "You ghosted me for months and now you're calling at 2 AM to tell me you **miss** me?" Her voice wavers dangerously close to something vulnerable.

Silence stretches between them again, thick with everything unsaid.

"Fuck you," Jackie whispers finally—but there's no heat left in it, "...Fuck you for making me miss you too." The confession slips out like a surrender.

A sharp inhale from Shauna. "Jax—"

Jackie’s heart stutters at the nickname—*Jax*—something she hasn’t heard in months, something that punches through her ribs and settles there like a bruise.

"No," Jackie cuts her off wetly, "We're not doing this over the phone." A pause as she swipes roughly at her eyes with one hand

And then Jackie’s next words register—

"Wait," Shauna blurts, "What do you mean we're not doing this over the phone?" Her pulse is suddenly in her throat, wild and hopeful despite herself.

A beat passes before Jackie huffs out a shaky breath—equal parts exasperated and exhausted. "I mean *exactly what I said*, Shauna," she mutters, "If you're gonna finally admit you were an idiot, you can damn well look me in the eye while doing it." There's an unspoken challenge laced beneath her words: **Come find me. Prove it.**

(And oh. Oh.)

Shauna sits up straighter, fingers tightening around the phone as something dangerously close to hope flares hot in her chest. "...You want me to come to Rutgers?"

Jackie scoffs weakly on the other end. "*Obviously*, dummy." But there's no real bite left—just exhaustion and something painfully close to longing.

The line goes dead before Shauna can say anything else—but it doesn’t matter because her heart is already racing with possibility. Because did Jackie just imply what Shauna thinks she did?

*Did Jackie just invite her over?*

Her mind races as she replays the conversation on loop—the desperate edge in Jackie’s voice, the raw undercurrent of want, the soft admission right before she hung up.

Shauna’s pulse quickens with each repeat, until she’s practically buzzing with restless energy and something dangerously close to hope, because this is it. The opening she didn't dare hope for. And suddenly, she's moving before her brain can catch up, already swinging her legs off the bed and reaching for the jacket slung over her desk chair.

Like it's that simple. Like driving two hours in the middle of the night to show up at Jackie’s dorm is a totally normal thing to do.

And maybe it is—for them.

Chapter Text

Jackie glances up at Shauna—who looks all pink-cheeked and squirmy as she attempts to read some book she’s supposed to analyse for school.

She barely resists the urge to smile, her stomach doing a series of excited flips as she lets the magazine she’s reading flutter shut.

There’s a question hovering on the tip of her tongue—asking to be voiced aloud, and the longer she holds back, the more it builds inside her—until she finally blurts out: ”Do you like when I boss you around?”

Shauna’s eyes snap up instantly—wide and startled and so obviously flustered, and Jackie wants to crawl into the hollow of Shauna’s throat and live there forever.

She tries to say something—but all that comes out is a stuttered ‘I-uh’ as she drops the book onto her lap with a soft thud.

This is too much fun.

Jackie shifts on the bed so she’s facing Shauna, head tilted like she’s waiting for an answer. Her hand finds Shauna’s knee, her fingers tapping against it.

Jackie tilts her head innocently. ”A simple question,” she hums, “And you still haven't answered.”

Shauna's throat bobs as she swallows hard—eyes darting from Jackie’s fingers on her knee to her teasing smirk and back again. Her grip tightens on the book in her lap like it’s a lifeline, knuckles going pale.

Jackie doesn’t miss the way Shauna squirms under the attention, hips shifting ever so slightly against the bedspread. Bingo.

“I don’t— *not* not like it,” Shauna mumbles eventually, voice embarrassingly hoarse. She clears her throat and tries again: “It’s just... you always get this look.” A pause. A quiet exhale. “Like you *know* I won’t say no.”

Jackie leans in—close enough that their noses almost brush, close enough to watch Shauna’s breath stutter in real time.

“Good,” she murmurs, fingers creeping higher up Shauna's thigh. “Because you *won't*.” The words drip with honeyed confidence as Jackie drags a slow circle into Shauna's skin with her thumb—just to watch her shiver.

Shauna exhales shakily—eyes fluttering shut as Jackie’s touch sets her nerve endings alight.

She can feel her thighs quivering under Jackie’s hand, and it’s taking all of her self-control to stay still; to not just throw herself at Jackie right now, no matter how badly she wants to.

“Fine,” she mumbles, voice too breathy and shaky to hold any real heat— ”I like it.”

And **oh**—that’s a new look on Shauna’s face.

Jackie smirks at that—smug and satisfied as she watches Shauna’s chest heave, her hips shifting restlessly in search of friction.

"You look good like this." And she does—all flushed and wanting with her thighs spread so prettily for Jackie.

"Please," Shauna whispers—voice strained and needy as she squirms under Jackie's gaze.

And who is Jackie to deny her? She slides both hands up Shauna's thighs, pushing them apart and making her gasp as she slots a knee between them.

"Good girl," Jackie murmurs.

Shauna lets out a shivery breath, hips canting mindlessly against Jackie's leg, hands grasping at her neck—needy and desperate and **perfect**.

Jackie feels Shauna's breath hitch again as she leans in—lips brushing Shauna's jaw, her tongue flicking against her pulse and tasting her skin.

"Want you," she whispers into Shauna's neck, teeth nipping at the tender spot beneath her ear, "Always been mine, haven't you?"

Shauna doesn't respond—just lets out a low keen as Jackie slides onto her lap, one hand cupping the nape of Shauna's neck while the other finds purchase on her hip bone. She can feel Shauna's body trembling beneath her; can see her pulse jackrabbit beneath the pale, vulnerable expanse of her throat.

And god, Jackie wants to taste every inch of her—wants to draw out more of those sweet little noises while she marks her mouth and jaw and throat, wants to leave trails of purple bruises in the wake of her lips.

Shauna’s whole body shudders when Jackie grinds down—slow and deliberate—onto the thigh now resting between her own legs.

She whines low in her throat and clutches at Jackie’s shirt—her hips moving in search of more friction.

“M’so wet,” Shauna gasps, the words spilling out before she can even think to bite them back. “Just—” She trails off with a needy little whimper, grinding harder against Jackie’s leg. “Oh, **god**…”

“You want it?“ Jackie purrs in a low, teasing tone.

Shauna's entire body shudders under her—all flushed cheeks and needy keening as she grinds harder against Jackie's leg, hips seeking out friction like her life depends on it.

Jackie reaches between them with a smirk—thumbs at Shauna's clit through the thin fabric of her jeans and grins when it makes her twitch.

She slides her other hand up Shauna's waist—slips it beneath the waistband of her shirt and drags her nails gently down Shauna's hip bone, feeling the ridges of her ribs beneath her palm.

"Ask nicely." she murmurs.

Chapter Text

Shauna barely remembers the drive—just the hum of her car engine, the blur of highway lights, and the way her hands wouldn’t stop shaking on the wheel. By the time she pulls into Rutgers’ campus, it’s nearly 4 AM and everything is eerily quiet.

She should turn around. She *knows* she should turn around.

Alas, a few minutes later, Shauna’s standing outside Jackie’s dorm room like her body’s on autopilot—heart pounding, throat dry, palms sweating, still not sure if she’s making the biggest mistake of her life.

It’s way too late to pop in unannounced and demand that Jackie explain what she meant on the phone. A part of Shauna wants to turn around and bolt, but the rest of her—the reckless, desperate part—

Well. It’s the same part that’s always dragged her straight into Jackie’s orbit whenever she tried to pull away.

She's been standing outside Jackie’s dorm for the past three minutes, trying to build up the courage to knock, her heart pounding so loud that it’s almost painful.

God, what is she **doing** here? Is this a sign that she's desperate? Pathetic? A total disaster? Or is it romantic, like in the movies, where the grand gesture is the one that fixes everything? Like kissing in the rain or confessing your feelings outside a window

She knows Jackie *does* like the grand gesture—the dramatic, heart-pounding moments that take your breath away—it’s why they went to all those cheesy rom-coms growing up, why Jackie would drag Shauna to the school’s sports games just to watch her play, why Jackie always dreamed of being the one that someone would pine over. So—maybe showing up unannounced is exactly what they need? Maybe it can fix it this time? Maybe—

Before she can overthink this decision anymore, Shauna knocks softly on her door. And hopes the movies were right.

Then the door opens and suddenly Jackie’s right there in the doorway, looking soft and sleep-mussed and so, so vulnerable—like she wasn’t expecting Shauna to actually show up but is desperately glad she did.

And just like that, Shauna forgets there was even a question in the first place.

A beat of silence stretches between them—heartbeats syncing in tandem—until Jackie exhales sharply and opens the door wider, a silent invitation for Shauna to step into her space. "Figured you'd back out and make me drive to Rhode Island instead," she mutters, but there's no heat behind it this time—just shaky relief.

It's 4 AM and they haven't seen each other in months and Jackie's standing in the doorway wearing some big, loose sweatshirt and looking so small that it makes Shauna's heart *ache* in her chest.

"You actually came," Jackie breathes—half disbelief, half something tender that makes Shauna's stomach flip.

Shauna swallows hard because of *course* she came. Of course she drove two hours in the middle of the night for this girl who has always been worth every reckless decision.

"Yeah," she rasps, "You told me to." As if it were that simple. As if Jackie's voice alone wasn't enough to pull her across state lines.

A beat passes where they just stare at each other—both too scared to move first, both terrified of what comes next.

Then Jackie steps back silently, leaving the doorway open behind her in invitation... and Shauna follows without hesitation.

Shauna doesn't know what she expected—a big dramatic reunion where they spill their hearts the second the door closes behind them?—but here they are, standing awkward and uncertain in the middle of Jackie's dorm room like they're not sure who should speak first.

Which is ridiculous. This is them. They don't do silence, or small talk. They do big feelings and late-night confessions in the safety of each other's arms and—she shouldn't be dwelling on that now.

They eventually settle in Jackie’s dorm room—on opposite sides of Jackie’s bed, close enough to feel the other’s body heat—and just sit there for a minute without saying anything, both too afraid to tip the fragile balance until—

"How’s Brown?" Jackie finally asks tentatively, like she’s scared that even mentioning the past few months is enough to shatter this moment.

Shauna blinks—caught off-guard by that question after the whole driving-two-hours-at-night thing—before she shrugs weakly. "It’s alright."

Jackie stares down at the space between them where the comforter is still crumpled like she was tossing and turning before Shauna got here. Which—she was. Because Shauna always had a habit of barging into her thoughts without trying.

She tries to appear unaffected, like it's just casual small talk—even as her stomach flips thinking about what—*who*—Shauna's filled those months with since graduation.

Because—did she find new friends? Is she dating anyone? Does she even think about Jackie anymore?

A beat passes as Jackie stares at her—searching for something. Then her expression shutters. "Did you come all this way just to sit there and give me one-word responses?" she snaps without meaning to, but the words come out harsh—a shield to hide the fact that her entire body feels like one raw nerve, one wrong move from snapping.

She's *missed* Shauna—missed her sarcasm and dry sense of humour and how they fit together like two puzzle pieces—and she'll be damned if she lets Shauna hide that away behind monosyllabic answers.

Shauna flinches slightly at the sharpness in Jackie’s voice—because she knows this tone. It’s the one Jackie uses when she’s hurt but trying to act like she isn’t, when she *wants* something but refuses to admit it.

And suddenly, Shauna realises that maybe Jackie isn't asking about Brown because of small talk. Maybe it's because for months now—she hasn't had any idea what Shauna's life looks like without her in it.

A pause as Shauna studies Jackie carefully—the way her fingers are clenched into fists on top of the comforter, how stiffly she holds herself—before finally exhaling. "Okay," she relents quietly, "Fine." She turns toward Jackie fully. "I hate Brown."

Jackie blinks. *"...What?"*

Not the answer she expected.

"It sucks," Shauna continues flatly, "Like yeah, my classes are great and whatever but…" A shrug as if that explains anything before adding under her breath: "...there's no you there." Like it was an obvious fact.

Jackie sucks in a sharp breath—like Shauna just knocked the wind out of her. Because this? This is so much worse than she thought. Not only is Shauna *admitting things*, she’s admitting them with that same stupid honesty that made Jackie fall for her in the first place.

And it hurts—god, it hurts—because how dare Shauna say something like that after months of silence? How dare she show up here and act like Jackie was some irreplaceable part of her life when she was the one who walked away first?

"You're such an idiot," Jackie chokes out before she can stop herself, You could've just called me sooner." Her voice cracks on the last word, all venom stripped away to leave something raw underneath.

A beat passes where they just stare at each other—Shauna looking like she’s been sucker-punched, Jackie blinking back tears furiously.

Then Jackie lets out a shuddering breath and does what they both know was inevitable from the second Shauna showed up at her door: She reaches across the space between them and fists both hands into Shauna’s shirt, dragging her close until their foreheads bump together weakly.

"I can't believe I missed you." It sounds like an insult but feels dangerously close to a confession.

Shauna can’t breathe. Not when Jackie’s so close. Not when she can feel the warm puff of her breath and the pressure of her hands like a physical force between them.

God, she was stupid to think she could move on from this. From them. From Jackie.

Chapter Text

Jackie and Shauna hang out in town and head to the grocery store to get something to eat before wandering around to look at the same shops as usual.

As Shauna scans the options of drinks and snacks, sandwich packet already in hand, Jackie can’t help but still be stuck on the main meal options.

They all look far too heavy. She feels guilty just from looking at them, and she didn’t want to admit even to herself why.

Jackie takes mental stock the way she does every time they stand in front of the cold cases: how many hours until her practice, how many calories she's already had today, how many she'll have to *burn* to make up for the ones she's about to eat. She knows it's stupid—knows Shauna will notice if she barely eats and get all worried, like Jackie's not fine—but she can't quiet the voice in her head that's whispering "unhealthy" and "too much" over and over like a broken record.

Shauna notices immediately—of course she does. She’s been attuned to Jackie’s every micro-expression, every shift in mood, since they were kids. And right now? Jackie’s staring at the meal options like they personally offended her, arms crossed tightly over her stomach.

Shauna knows that look. It’s the same one Jackie gets when her mom makes some offhand comment about ‘watching carbs’.

Her jaw clenches.

“Jax,” she says carefully, “Just get whatever you want.” A pause before she adds pointedly “You look good either way.” And yeah—maybe it slips out a little too honest, but she doesn't take it back.

Jackie stiffens—like Shauna just read her mind and called her out on it. Which—technically, she did. "I *know* that," she snaps reflexively before deflating slightly. "...It's not about looking good." Which is only half true.

Shauna studies Jackie for another beat—watches her arms wrap a little tighter around herself, the faint flush on her face that screams ‘busted’—before sighing silently to herself.

She’s always known Jackie worries about her body—always felt the sharp stab of *something* in her chest whenever Jackie would skip meals with her or eat half as much as Shauna despite being just as hungry. But normally she gets so tense that Shauna can’t even broach the subject. It feels like she’s tiptoeing around a feral animal.

And Shauna hates it.

It’s not about looking ‘too chunky’ in a swimsuit or ‘losing baby fat’ in her face. It’s about having discipline—about being in control. But Jackie won’t tell Shauna that, because she can already imagine her best friend’s expression if she did.

“I’m fine,” Jackie insists instead, forcing herself to relax and roll her eyes, “I just don’t want to eat a whole sandwich.” Because it’s too much. Because she’s trying to be good.

Shauna's fingers tighten around the sandwich in her own hands—because no, *that’s not right.* Jackie *loves* sandwiches. She orders them with extra mayo and pickles on the side and eats them like it’s a religious experience every time. Or at least—she used to.

And Shauna isn't stupid. She sees the way Jackie watches what she eats now, counts bites like they're tally marks on a scoreboard.

"Okay," Shauna says slowly, "...then we'll split one." She holds up her own sandwich as an offering. "Half for you, half for me." It's casual enough that maybe Jackie won't notice how carefully calculated this is—how Shauna is essentially forcing herself to eat less too so it doesn't feel like charity.

A beat passes where Jackie just stares at her, expression flickering between frustration and relief before settling into something softer. "...Fine," she mutters eventually, "But only because you *always* get jalapeños and I don’t trust you not to make mine spicy." It's a weak excuse but they both let it slide.

Shauna exhales—subtle relief washing over her as Jackie finally caves. Because sure, maybe she *did* deliberately pick the one with jalapeños knowing full well Jackie would protest, but that’s neither here nor there. It’s about strategy: give Jackie an out so she doesn’t feel pitied or pressured, make it seem like *Shauna's* the one inconveniencing *her*, and boom—Jackie eats something without spiraling into a guilt-ridden debate with herself.

It works every time.

"Wow," Shauna deadpans as they walk toward the register, "Here I was thinking you liked my impeccable taste in sandwich toppings." She nudges Jackie lightly with her shoulder.

Jackie scoffs, bumping back harder just to be petty. "Impeccable?* Please. You put ranch on pizza."

And okay—fair point.

They end up perched on the hood of Shauna’s car—sandwich carefully split in two, wrappers crumpled in their laps, both of them avoiding each other’s eyes as they eat in comfortable silence.

Shauna glances over at Jackie after a few minutes, just in time to catch her smiling faintly to herself. And Shauna can’t help but smile back—this stupid, giddy feeling bubbling up in her chest.

She doesn’t know what this is, but she likes it. Loves it. Will take it for as long as she can have it.

Jackie catches Shauna staring and immediately schools her expression into something more neutral, cheeks colouring slightly. But she doesn’t say anything about it—just takes another bite of the sandwich like nothing happened.

Because that’s how this works: they tiptoe around the edges of whatever *this* is, neither brave enough to name it but both too greedy to let go.

A few minutes later, Jackie crumples up her wrapper with a sigh and leans back against the windshield, stretching her legs out in front of her. The late afternoon sun casts everything in golden light—makes Shauna’s profile look softer than usual, all warm brown eyes and messy hair tucked behind one ear.

Jackie wants to reach over and fix it for her. Wants to brush her fingers against Shauna’s cheek just to see if she'd flinch away or lean into the touch. But she doesn't.

"You're staring," Shauna points out without looking at her, mouth quirking up at one corner. "Something on my face?"

Always so perceptive. Always calling Jackie on her bullshit.

"Nope," Jackie lies easily, popping the 'p' for emphasis.

Shauna grins—like she knows she’s caught Jackie in a blatant lie—before glancing down at her half-eaten sandwich and realising something. There’s still a corner of crust left.

Suddenly, she has a very important mission.

Don’t make it obvious what she’s planning.

“It’s not spicy, by the way,” Shauna says casually, nudging Jackie’s leg with her foot. “You could’ve finished it.” Subtle guilt trip.

It takes Jackie a second to register what Shauna’s hinting at—and by then, it’s too late. The realization hits her like a brick. Shauna’s doing it on purpose.

Making her finish the sandwich. Giving her the bigger half. It’s all so—so… thoughtful. And it makes Jackie feel soft in a way she can’t name; warm where it shouldn’t be. Which of course makes her irrationally upset all over again because now Shauna’s trying to be nice and it’s making everything confusing.

God, Shauna is such a sneaky *bitch.* But also…she’s kinda sweet, in a very Shauna way.

Well. She has enough practice to know where this is going.

Shauna’s never been one for subtlety in situations like this—always barreling straight through them with the grace of a bulldozer.

Lucky for her, Jackie has the self-preservation instincts of a toddler.

“I’m saving it.”

"Oh?" Shauna asks innocently, even though they both know she's not buying it. "For later?" She's pushing her luck and they both know it.

Jackie rolls her eyes—partially exasperated, partially trying to ignore the warm feeling in her chest that’s dangerously close to fondness. "Yup. Exactly." She can do this too, right? Play this game where they pretend Shauna isn't secretly babying her?

Chapter Text

Shauna becomes increasingly paranoid of slipping up around Jackie as certain thoughts plague her mind. All involving Jackie. Obviously.

The night before they promised to hang out together during summer break, she dreamt of giving birth to a baby girl, which wasn’t that concerning, until Jackie appeared, cutting the umbilical cord and holding the back of her head as she beamed at Shauna and then at the baby, no less.

She was starting to actually become worried now. Surely no other person on Earth had dreamt about having a baby with their best friend. She couldn’t exactly remember how the baby looked.. but could remember those piercing green eyes of Jackie’s.. on her supposed fucking first born child.

Should she get help for this? Would a normal person pull a face if she told them of this?

And how the hell was she supposed to act around Jackie now? She knew she didn’t do the best job at it already, but..

Shauna spends the next morning cleaning her room—which is weird, because when has she ever bothered to do that? She just wants to look good for—

She can’t think like that, not now that her own subconscious has betrayed her like this. She’s not… she’s not thinking about her and Jackie and a little baby that’s half-her.

Shauna’s not nervous. That would be insane. Her hands don’t tremble as she organises her books and clothes in piles, as if that would help cover up the baby-shaped elephant in the room. This is normal.

When the doorbell rings, Shauna’s breath catches. She takes an embarrassingly long pause in front of the mirror in her living room, inspecting herself. It isn’t like she’s never been alone with Jackie before—she’s spent nearly every second of her life with the girl for thirteen years. So why are her palms sweaty right now? Why does she feel weirdly self-conscious about the way her jeans sit over the waistband of her underwear? Why can’t she stop thinking about how this might be the last time she ever sees Jackie if she does something stupid like she usually does?

She opens the door—too slowly, then too quickly—and there Jackie is. Sunlight catching in her honey-brown hair, one hand already reaching out to shove playfully at Shauna’s shoulder like she always does.

Except this time, Shauna's brain short-circuits because all she can think about is that stupid dream and how Jackie's fingers would feel brushing against her forehead instead of pushing her away.

"Took you long enough," Jackie teases, already stepping past Shauna into the house like she owns it. Which—in a way—she kind of does. "Were you *hiding* from me or something?"

And God. She’s so normal about this. So completely unaware of the war zone inside Shauna’s head right now.

Shauna forces a laugh—the sound too loud and too high-pitched in the quiet house.

She’s acting weird right now, isn’t she? Jackie’s gonna ask if she’s okay, and then—and then what? Confessing that her brain is being flooded with images of them holding some made-up baby? Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.

Shauna swallows hard—tries to ignore the way her pulse kicks up at Jackie's easy touch. Because she should be used to this by now, right? Jackie has always been tactile, always invading Shauna's space without a second thought.

But it feels different today. Everything feels different today.

"Uh, no," she lies, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly as she follows Jackie inside. "Just—cleaning." Which is such an obvious lie that literally anyone, let alone Jackie, could probably call her on it.

She needs to get a grip. She needs to act normal before Jackie notices something’s wrong and starts prying.

Jackie raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push—just flops onto Shauna’s bed like she belongs there (she does) and starts opening up Shauna’s walkman with practiced ease. "Weird," she hums, "*You*, voluntarily cleaning?"

And okay—yeah. Maybe Shauna deserves that one.

Shauna huffs—because *obviously* she doesn't clean often, but that's not the point right now. The point is that Jackie is sprawled across her bed like she owns it (again) and Shauna can’t stop staring at the way her hair fans out against the pillow.

It's distracting. Too distracting.

"Yeah, well," she mutters lamely, "My mom threatened to throw my shit out if I didn't." Another lie—but this one is at least more believable than the last.

Jackie grins up at her—sharp and knowing in a way that makes Shauna want to squirm. "Uh-huh," she says slowly, dragging out each syllable like she’s savouring Shauna’s discomfort. "Sure."

She totally knows something's off. She always does.

A beat of silence where they just stare at each other—Jackie with amused suspicion, Shauna with poorly concealed panic—before Jackie finally relents with an exaggerated sigh and pats the space next to her on the bed.

"C'mere," she orders, "You're being weird today." (Like this isn't going to make things ten times worse.)

Shauna hesitates—because sitting *right next to Jackie* when she’s already barely keeping her thoughts in check seems like a terrible idea. But if she refuses, that’ll just make things weirder.

This is fine. Totally fine.

She exhales sharply and flops onto the bed beside Jackie—making sure to keep a few inches between them, even though every nerve in her body is screaming at her to close the distance.

Jackie studies her for a second too long before rolling onto her side with an exaggerated huff of frustration, propping herself up on one elbow. "Okay," she announces, "Spill." Because obviously Shauna isn't getting out of this without some kind of interrogation.

"Spill *what?*"

"You're acting all jumpy and weird,"

..She can't just say, "I dreamed we had a baby together" and not expect Jackie to bolt out the door screaming. Or worse—laugh at her.

Shauna feels her face heat up at the thought, and she groans internally. Why does Jackie always have this effect on her? It's like every nerve ending in her body is hypersensitive to the girl’s presence now.

"I'm *not* being weird," she insists, even though they both know that’s bullshit. "I just—had a weird dream last night." And okay, maybe she shouldn't have said that. Because now Jackie's eyes light up with predatory interest.

Jackie gasps dramatically—like Shauna just confessed to murder instead of an odd dream.* “Oh my God,” she says, “Was it about me?” Because of course Jackie would immediately assume it’s about herself.

And also because she knows Shauna too well.

Shauna freezes for a second before scowling and shoving Jackie’s shoulder lightly. "No.” (Yes.)

Jackie's grin widens—sharp and knowing—because Shauna is a terrible liar and they both know it. "Uh-huh," she drawls, rolling onto her side to face Shauna fully now, propping her head up on one hand.

This is bad. This is very bad.

"Come *on*, Shipman," Jackie presses, nudging her foot against Shauna's shin under the blankets. "What kind of best friend would I be if I didn't psychoanalyse your weird dreams?" She says it like it's a joke—like this isn't slowly killing Shauna inside.

Shauna should lie. She should make something up—say she dreamed about failing an exam or getting chased by zombies or literally anything else that doesn’t involve Jackie holding their hypothetical baby in some weird domestic fantasy.

But instead, what comes out is:

"It was stupid." Weak. Vague. Safe.

"Tell me anyway." Not safe at all.

The moment hangs uncomfortably between them—neither one willing to back down from the conversation they've already started. And now Jackie's curiosity is piqued; she's never been one to let a challenge go unchallenged.

Besides, Shauna's *never* this cagey about her dreams—usually she can't shut up about whatever batshit scenario her brain cooked up the night before.

Because *of course* she got caught acting weird. Of *course* Jackie noticed. And now she has to think of something—anything—to say that isn’t: “I had a dream we had a baby together and now I can't look at you without wondering if our kid would have your nose.”

Shauna swallows hard—because she knows Jackie won’t let this go, not until she gets some kind of answer. And maybe it's the way Jackie is looking at her—expectant and playful but *soft*, too—or maybe it's just the fact that Shauna is tired of lying to her best friend.

But whatever it is, she cracks.

Because she wants this—wants more than the small pieces of Jackie she’s been hoarding like a hungry little squirrel.

And that’s pathetic. That’s sad.

But she can’t stop herself from thinking about it. From wanting.

"...Fine," she mutters, "But you're gonna laugh." She already sounds defeated.

Jackie shakes her head immediately, expression shifting into something uncharacteristically serious. "No I won't." And for once, Shauna almost believes her.

Here goes nothing.

Shauna exhales sharply through her nose before blurting out:

"I dreamed we had a baby together." There. It’s out in the open now. She can’t take it back.

A beat of silence so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Jackie doesn't react at first—just blinks at Shauna like she misheard. Then: "...Oh." Soft. Unreadable. "...Like... *together*-together?" Her voice wavers slightly on the last word.

Shauna’s heart is hammering so hard she’s half-convinced Jackie can hear it. This is it—the moment where everything changes, where Jackie finally realises Shauna’s been harbouring some twisted, possessive love for her all these years and decides to cut her off completely.

How many best friends dream about a white picket fence and two-point-five kids together? No, this is obviously not normal or okay and now she’s made everything weird and ruined everything and—

Her mouth opens and closes uselessly—her mind completely blank on how to respond. What do you even say to that? “Yeah, dream-you and I were married and we had a little baby girl in some cute pink onesie and it was totally perfect.”

But—Jackie hasn't pulled away yet. She's still here, still staring at Shauna like she's trying to decode something in the lines of her face.

"...Yeah," Shauna admits quietly after a long pause, "Like... together-together." Her voice is barely above a whisper now—like if she says it too loud, the world might actually end.

Another beat of silence. Then Jackie shifts closer—just slightly—so their knees bump under the blanket.

Shauna doesn't dare breathe.

"That's..." Jackie starts before trailing off, biting her lip like she's debating whether or not to say what comes next. "...Not the worst dream I've ever heard." She says it lightly, almost teasingly—but there's something fragile underneath it that makes Shauna’s chest ache.

Wait. What?

Shauna stiffens.

She doesn't understand.

Because—because Jackie is supposed to be freaking out right now. That's how these things work. If your best friend admits to dreaming about you in her perfect little life, you get upset. You tell her how weird it is, how twisted and wrong, and then—and then you* *stop being friends.*

But Jackie is just sitting there, staring at Shauna like she's seeing her for the first time.

"What?" Shauna asks dumbly, because she's pretty sure her brain just short-circuited.

Shauna can't stop thinking about the dream—keeps replaying it in her head like some kind of fucked-up movie she can't turn off. The way Jackie had looked at her—soft and proud and so *loving* that Shauna's chest aches just remembering it.

She knows it's stupid. Knows dreams don't mean anything. But still.

Now, sitting across from Jackie in her bed, she feels weirdly exposed—like one glance from those sharp green eyes will reveal everything inside her head.

Does Jackie have these thoughts too? Or is Shauna the only one losing sleep over visions of a tiny, hazel-eyed baby with Jackie’s smile?

Jackie shrugs—slow and deliberate—like she's carefully choosing her next words. "It's not bad. Just...different." Like she's not entirely sure how she feels about this new information yet.

Shauna stares back at her, completely dumbfounded.

“Different?” That's all she has to say? How the hell is this not the weirdest thing Jackie's ever heard? Why isn't she running for the hills right now?

She opens her mouth to retort—to demand that Jackie tell her exactly what the hell she means by different—but the words get stuck in her throat because Jackie is looking at her with this tiny, barely-there smile and it makes Shauna's heart feel too big for her own chest.

And God, why does Jackie have to be so... so *Jackie* about everything? How can she make Shauna feel like the biggest freak in the world in one breath, and then like the most precious thing in the next?

“No. It- It is bad, Jackie.”

“I mean, how many times have you heard of best friends dreaming about..— *that* with each other??”

Her voice trembles, almost exasperated, as she still feels conflicted at whether or not she should be angry at Jackie for not discouraging this.

The silence hangs heavily between them, like neither knows what to say now that they're standing at the edge of a cliff—one wrong move, and everything could come crashing down. Shauna wants to push Jackie further; force her to put into words what this means; make her react.

But Jackie is just sitting there—looking at Shauna like she's waiting for *her* to make the next move.

Shauna swallows hard, gathering her words with difficulty. "You should—you should be grossed out. Or-or upset. Or… *something.*"

Chapter Text

Shauna falls sick with a cold with Jackie at the side of her bed, concern worrying her brows as Shauna sniffles every few seconds.

Jackie can’t decide whether to feel aggressively affectionate for Shauna because of how rumpled she looks, or to be overly concerned and possibly get herself ill from hovering over Shauna too much. She just can’t help it.

Shauna knows she’s being a terrible patient—complaining that she’s hungry, even though she refuses to eat more than a few spoonfuls of soup; asking for water and then not drinking it; demanding more blankets before kicking them all to the floor.

She’s just miserable—her throat feels like she’s swallowed a dozen razors, and even her own breathing sounds like a goddamn freight train.

“Jax,” she croaks out from underneath the mountain of pillows Jackie keeps piling on her, not for any particular reason. Her voice is scratchy and pathetic—which makes her feel even worse.

As much as Shauna’s body is currently rebelling against her, she's also loving being fussed over. Loves Jackie's hands in her hair, loves how she hums quietly when she thinks Shauna's asleep, loves that Jackie is here and taking care of her.

Jackie makes a small, distressed noise at the sound of Shauna’s voice—like she can physically feel how painful it must be to speak. "Shhh, don't *talk*," she scolds softly, pressing the back of her hand to Shauna's forehead for what feels like the hundredth time today. Still too warm. Still not enough.

The worst part? She knows she’s being ridiculous. It’s just a cold—not some life-threatening illness—but seeing Shauna like this makes Jackie want to bubble wrap her and tuck her somewhere safe forever.

"Here," she mutters, carefully nudging a fresh glass of water toward Shauna before fluffing one of the pillows for absolutely no reason other than nervous energy. "Just—drink this and stop being so dramatic." As if Jackie isn't currently rearranging everything in sight like it'll somehow speed up recovery.

A pause where they both just stare at each other—Shauna looking half-delirious but smug; Jackie trying (and failing) to act unaffected.

Shauna looks miserable—and frankly a little pathetic—but somehow it makes her look more endearing than ever. Jackie huffs out a small laugh, shaking her head fondly at this ridiculous girl she loves.

"What would you do without me, Shipman?" she asks, trying to hide her amusement behind a half-hearted attempt at sternness.

Shauna takes the water obediently—because despite her usual stubbornness, she secretly loves when Jackie goes all mother hen on her. She sips slowly just to make a show of it, eyes locked onto Jackie’s face the whole time like she’s trying to memorise every twitch of irritation or fondness.

It's stupid. They're stupid.

A pause where Shauna swallows—grimacing at how raw her throat feels before cracking a tired smirk. “Probably die,” she rasps out with mock solemnity, “Neglected and alone.” She punctuates this with an exaggerated sniffle, milking the performance for all it's worth.

Jackie makes another one of those soft distressed noises—the ones Shauna has catalogued in some secret part of her brain labeled ‘Things I Can Never Admit Are Cute.’

Shauna squints up at her from the nest of blankets—looking unfairly adorable despite the fact that she’s basically a walking petri dish right now.

Jackie’s expression shifts into something dangerously soft before she can stop it—because goddammit, Shauna is so *annoying.* And sick. And messy-haired and red-nosed and still somehow managing to be sarcastic even when half-dead.

And Jackie loves her so much it physically hurts sometimes.

"Ugh," Jackie mutters under her breath, "You're *such* a baby." But there’s no real bite behind it—just something tender that neither of them are ready to name yet.

Shauna’s smile widens—the kind of goofy, loopy grin that only shows up when she’s feverish and tired and feeling particularly indulgent.

God, she loves Jackie. Loves how she’s here now—even though Shauna can tell she’s getting frustrated with all the hovering and hand-wringing. Loves how Jackie still fusses even after Shauna’s practically begged her to leave and stop risking her health.

But—okay, maybe she *did* milk this cold for every ounce of sympathy she could get.

Because yes—she’s sick. And yes, she’s a little miserable. But she’s also wrapped up in her favourite blanket right next to the girl she loves, so maybe this isn’t so bad after all.

"You like it," she mutters, reaching up to grasp at Jackie's hand—a gentle request to stay close. To touch her.

Jackie rolls her eyes, but she's not about to deny it when she's done nothing except sit in this room, holding Shauna's hands and petting her hair and talking nonsense, all afternoon.

She's been waiting for this—for Shauna to be too weak to fight the impulse to grab for her. It's probably horrible of Jackie to be *enjoying* the fact that Shauna is sick, but...she's sort of missed this. That easy familiarity.

Their fingers lace together instantly—soft and familiar in a way that makes Jackie's heart ache.

Shauna sighs—the sound contented and slightly dopey, like she's barely hanging on to consciousness. Because between the exhaustion and the fever and the painkillers, she feels floaty and warm and blissfully detached from any lingering worries about the future.

And right now? Jackie's holding her hand, which means everything must be okay.

"Stay with me?" she mumbles, eyelids drooping already. She probably looks like a train wreck—hair plastered to her forehead with sweat, nose red from being constantly sniffled-into—but she can't find it in herself to care.

This is her favourite part—when Shauna isn't hiding behind her usual snark and sarcasm, isn't trying to act tough and cool and unaffected. This is the soft, sleepy Shauna that only comes out when she's sick or deliriously tired and doesn't have the energy to hide the fact that she loves Jackie.

And for some stupid reason, Jackie loves being the one who sees it the most.

Jackie doesn't even hesitate before nodding—because of course she'll stay; of course she's not leaving.

Shauna would be an idiot to think otherwise, even if Jackie's just been holding back her desire to do exactly this for the past couple hours.

She's never been able to deny Shauna—that soft, plaintive "stay" that sounds so small and vulnerable. Besides, Shauna already looks so pathetic—all watery eyes and flushed cheeks and sad little coughs—that leaving her feels vaguely like abandoning a kicked puppy.

But she keeps her tone light when she answers—like they're just having a normal conversation. "Duh. You're stuck with me, Shipman."

Shauna hums—content, victorious, already half-asleep as she gives Jackie’s fingers a weak squeeze. She feels weightless and boneless and safe—like everything outside this moment doesn’t matter anymore.

It's not just the fever making her feel warm; it's the way Jackie keeps tucking her hair back behind her ears like she can't stop touching her.

"Good," she mumbles against the pillow before letting out another pathetic sniffle. "'Cause you're stuck with me too."

And then—because she's sick and exhausted and completely lost any sense of self-preservation—she tugs gently on Jackie's wrist in a silent request to come closer.

Chapter Text

Jackie’s arm is slung around a far too drunk Shauna, trying to get her to the car as quickly as is possible with Shauna’s wobbly baby steps.

She almost tries to shield Shauna from the glances of curious onlookers with her own body, feeling weirdly protective over her. It was none of their business, and she was the only one who could help Shauna, obviously.

She had tried to remind Shauna of their unspoken promise of a maximum of 5 drinks at a night out, but Shauna had just kept going for more, and all the while, Jackie had to pretend like she wasn’t instinctively monitoring what she was doing with increasing worry. She didn’t want to seem like too vigilant, as it just felt embarrassing and she knew it would piss Shauna off—and now she was dealing with the consequences..

Shauna is clinging onto Jackie for dear life, giggling helplessly despite the way she stumbles with drunken every step—clutching her best friend's shoulder like she's the only thing keeping her upright.

Shauna is a mess, cheeks bright red as a result of whatever drinks she'd been drinking, her lips practically stained pink from the cocktails Shauna had insisted on making the second Jackie looked the other way.

And Jackie loves this. Every. Last. Part. Of. It. Shauna is all hers tonight—nothing and no one else is on her radar right now.

“Shauna,” Jackie chastises, her voice soft as she tries to guide Shauna towards the car parked in the yard, "Can you walk in, like, a straight line?" She leans against the rusty Ford, fumbling in her pocket for her keys, vaguely feeling like a stressed out Mom trying to multitask with a screaming baby on her hip.

Shauna tries to take a step forward—but trips over her feet, falling straight into Jackie’s arms as she reaches out to stop Shauna’s from faceplanting again.

"No," Shauna huffs, still giggling softly.

"You carry me," she slurs, as if it should be a given, wrapping her arms around Jackie’s neck, "I like it when you do it. 'S like you care about me."

Shauna sways slightly, smiling dreamily at Jackie—her head tilted back so she can look up at her, an almost dopey look in her eyes.

And Jackie’s heart swells in spite of herself—because how is she not supposed to fall for that? It’s literally Shauna, so drunk she has no idea what she’s saying.

“Oh, please," Jackie scoffs, trying to act unaffected, "I don’t care what you want. You’re too heavy to pick up.”

Jackie knows Shauna’s going to kill her for letting her get this wasted—but for now, she’ll take any chance she has to get close. She can’t help the soft sigh that escapes her mouth as Shauna’s lips brush against her neck.

She nudges Shauna’s forehead with the tip of her nose, letting out a quiet, content hum. She knows it’s probably not the best idea to indulge Shauna and her drinking habits—but she’ll worry about that tomorrow.

“Come on,” Jackie murmurs as she opens the door to the passenger seat, “Car. In. Now. I’m putting you to bed for the night.”

“Ugh,” Shauna groans, letting her head fall against Jackie’s shoulder—her voice muffled against the fabric of Jackie’s jacket, “You never let me have fun anymore.” She sighs dramatically before all but falling into the car.

It makes Jackie want to laugh—because drunk Shauna is just as stubborn as sober Shauna, only with zero inhibitions. There’s nothing in the world more difficult than putting Shauna Shipman to bed for the night, drunk or not.

After she gets into the driver’s side and starts the car, Jackie sneaks another glance to her right—biting back a laugh at the way Shauna looks slumped over in the passenger seat, fumbling with the seatbelt buckle. But her hands aren’t cooperating—the straps keep slipping through her fingers, and Jackie’s lips twitch with amusement as she watches her struggle.

So adorable. So cute. So drunk.

As if on cue, Shauna lets out a frustrated huff, and her fingers fumble with the buckle again.

“Ugh,” her voice sounds small, helpless,“Jackieeeee, help meee.”

And Jackie almost wants to let Shauna suffer a little longer—she might even find it funny—but she just looks so goddamn pretty. With her hair falling down from the messy ponytail, her face flushed pink from the alcohol, and her cheeks just slightly puffy from irritation. Jackie can’t resist those big doe eyes and pouty lips.

“Oh my God, Shauna,” Jackie laughs quietly, feeling her chest warm at the sound—her voice a little huskier than she probably should have allowed it to be.

As Jackie unbuckles her seatbelt, Shauna watches her with big, slightly hazy eyes. She’s so close, her lips forming a barely noticeable pout as her eyes flick down to Jackie’s mouth.

“You have pretty eyelashes,” Shauna whispers, as if it’s a secret only the two of them share.

She’s probably not even aware of everything she’s saying—her brain fogged up by the tequila shots from an hour ago.

But Jackie likes this. She likes drunk Shauna. She likes her a lot.

She’s just staring at Jackie like no one’s business—her eyes still wide and unguarded, a tiny bit glossy from the alcohol. She looks even prettier in the low passenger side light—her lips parted, and her gaze locked on Jackie’s own in a way that makes Jackie’s stomach twist with desire.

She wants to tell her to stop—because Shauna’s going to say something she’ll regret tomorrow, and she’s going to hate herself, and Jackie even more.

“..I need to get you home.”

“Why?” Shauna whines, dragging out the word as she slumps sideways against the seat.

She stares at Jackie, her gaze a little too intense—and her cheeks flushed prettily from all the booze.

“You don’t want to spend time with me,” she grumbles, “You never do anymore.”

Jackie chooses to sigh and not think too hard about what Shauna is saying for both of their sakes as she pulls out onto the road.

Even after Shauna’s been practically dragged out of the car into the Shipman’s empty house, she is insistent on clinging to Jackie for dear life—her arms wrapped around Jackie’s neck as she stumbles through the door.

The two of them stumble over the threshold—Jackie practically carrying Shauna at this point—and she can already anticipate what a pain it’ll be to get Shauna to climb the stairs, as heavy and uncoordinated as she is right now.

Shauna doesn’t let go of her hand the entire way up the stairs—insisting that she needs “support” and she might “slip and die on this death trap”. Jackie just laughs helplessly, her heart skipping a beat with every squeeze of Shauna’s fingers.

“Shauna, let go,” Jackie eventually grunts, trying to support Shauna’s weight.

They manage to reach Shauna’s bed—and for a second, Jackie considers just dumping her on the mattress and letting Shauna find her way under the covers, but she knows she’ll have hell to pay tomorrow. Shauna is like a big, clumsy toddler when she’s drunk—so Jackie decides to at least try and help her undress.

But Shauna picks that as the perfect moment to clutch at her stomach and gape like a pufferfish.

“Jax,” she whimpers, “I’m gonna blow chunks.”

Jackie sighs as Shauna makes a beeline for the bathroom—leaving her alone in this awkward situation. She follows Shauna into the bathroom and pats her back as she vomits in the toilet, hair pulled back out of her face. Shauna is a mess tonight—a sloppy, drunk mess—but Jackie feels almost grateful that Shauna trusts her enough to let her see her get this vulnerable.

“Jesus,” Jackie sighs, being way too soft for this kind of thing and ending up awkwardly supporting Shauna’s upper body as she’s dry heaving into the toilet.

She looks down at Shauna, who is still kneeling on the cold bathroom floor—her eyes shut tight as she gasps for breath. Jackie’s heart clenches painfully in her chest, her entire being overwhelmed by the love she feels for Shauna in this moment.

Jackie tucks a stray hair behind Shauna’s ear before grabbing a rag from the counter—soaking it under some warm water from the tap—then crouching down and softly wiping Shauna’s mouth and chin.

Jackie's touch is so gentle—so tender—that Shauna's entire body aches with longing.

Shauna wants to ask Jackie to spend the night so badly, but her entire life, she’s only ever been able to get something by pretending she doesn’t care about it much—like how she pretends she thinks smoking is dumb, even though she thinks Jackie looks hot when she does it.

So she takes the coward's way out—like she always does.

She rolls onto her side, burying her face in the crook of Jackie's neck.

Shauna hums in contentment as she leans into Jackie’s touch, practically melting under her hands—and Jackie has to take a moment to process the feeling of Shauna’s skin against her own. This is uncharted territory for them; she’s never let Shauna get this clingy and handsy after they’ve been drinking.

“Feeling better?” she murmurs.

She tries to be gentle with Shauna—to handle her as carefully as she can, but it’s a challenge when she has to stop herself from wanting more.

“Yeah,” Shauna breathes, nodding her head against the crook of Jackie’s neck.

She’s being way too needy—way too selfish—but it’s always the same pattern with them. Jackie is more than willing to hold Shauna close, but Shauna is always the first one to pull away after a few seconds, her cheeks flushed as she mutters an excuse.

And Jackie can’t quite figure out who’s teasing who the most—Shauna with her soft little sighs and dreamy eyes—or Jackie herself with her wandering hands.

Jackie knows Shauna well enough to realize the other girl isn't thinking straight—she's drunk off her mind; and she'd never be this physically affectionate with Jackie if she was remotely sober. So, she has to resist the urge to take advantage of what Shauna is subconsciously offering her right now; she can't, no matter how badly she wants to grab Shauna and hold her tight.

Jackie carefully sits up, trying to keep Shauna from falling over as she gets to her feet.

“Come on, let’s get you in bed.”

Jackie has to physically lift Shauna up and move her around—the girl is like dead weight—and it takes all of her patience not to just leave and tell Shauna to sleep wherever she falls. That would probably get her murdered in her sleep.

Somehow, she wrangles Shauna out of her jeans and into the bed, all the while resisting the urge to ogle her—because drunk Shauna has no boundaries.

Her lips are practically pressed against Shauna’s ear as she leans forward to speak softly, “Goodnight.”

Jackie’s barely gotten a few steps away before Shauna is whining out into the darkness, all the sheets and blankets piled high on the bed from her previous movements.

“…Jax?” Shauna mumbles, her voice small.

She doesn’t say anything for a few moments, the only sound in the room coming from her slow breathing and the creak of the bed as she rolls over to stare at her best friend with her big soulful eyes.

” …Stay?”

Chapter Text

A few months before, Shauna decides to go to some random frat party that a friend of a friend of a friend is hosting. It’s the first party she’s been to without Jackie, which definitely doesn’t mean anything. She definitely doesn’t want an opportunity to meet new people who won’t just see her as Jackie’s sidekick.

It’s safe to say that she barely remembers anything important from it the next morning, just flashing lights, blaring music and cheap alcohol.

She goes to school the next morning like any other day, albeit a bit sluggish.

—

Jackie arrives at school slightly earlier than Shauna, and heads to her locker to put away some unneeded books for the day.

Shes digging into her bag when she notices something in there that isn’t her cleats or pencil case. They look like.. photos..?

She picks them up and squints. One depicts a girls face with another girls hands cupping it, chipped red nails, blonde hair..

Wait. The other girl…

A rounded nose. soft, wide brown eyes, looking right at the camera. Slightly curly dark hair.

Shauna. Why is it Shauna. Why is another girl holding Shauna’s face like that. Why did someone put these pictures in her locker—

Well, deep down she knows why. Because almost everyone and their dog knows how close Jackie and Shauna are. It’s an annoyingly perfect way to get to her.

Jackie tries with all her might not to shred the pictures in half, not even wanting to look at the second one, as she knew it would probably make her want to punch a hole in the wall.

Jackie’s mind is spinning. This has to be a joke. Shauna—at a party without her? She knows Shauna would’ve never gone to a party without her. But maybe she did.

And there’s Shauna, standing there, grinning in the photo, her face cradled in a girl’s hands. Jackie hates it. She hates that Shauna was at a party without her.

Jackie slams her locker shut, gripping the photos tightly in her hand.

She has to go find Shauna.

She eventually does—leaning against the hood of her car, nursing a too-strong coffee when she hears Jackie’s footsteps—quick, sharp, *angry*—before she even sees her. She barely has time to blink before Jackie shoves something into her chest hard enough to make her stumble back.

Photos. Of last night.

Oh fuck.

"Explain." Jackie’s voice is eerily calm. That’s how Shauna knows she’s really, truly pissed.

Shauna scrambles for an excuse but comes up empty—because yeah, that's definitely some girl cupping her face in the dim glow of a frat house basement. And yeah, that second photo is undeniably them kissing.

"I was drunk," she mumbles lamely, "I don't even remember half of last night." A lie. She remembers just enough to know it wasn't just some random hookup—it was because the girl had green eyes and blonde hair and laughed like Jackie when she got tipsy.

Shauna blinks down at the photos. Some girl (Emma? Emily? She doesn’t even remember) crowding into her space, hands cupping Shauna’s cheeks like they had any right to be there. And worst of all? Shauna looking back at her with that same dazed expression she always gets when she’s too drunk and too touch-starved to think straight.

Jackie scoffs like she can *see* right through Shauna, "Bullshit." She steps closer until they're inches apart

Her mouth goes dry. "Jackie—"

But Jackie cuts her off with a humorless laugh, shaking the photos like evidence in a trial. "I mean seriously, Shipman," she spits, "Couldn't even wait until graduation to start replacing me?" Her voice cracks on the last word despite herself.

Shauna’s breath catches in her throat—not at the accusation, but at the raw hurt flashing in Jackie’s eyes. Because this isn't just anger. This is *betrayal*. The kind that makes Shauna feel sick to her stomach.

And suddenly, all she can think about is how Jackie never looked like this when Jeff kissed other girls.

"Replace you?" Shauna snaps back before she can stop herself, "Jesus Christ, Jackie, you're acting like I *cheated* on you or something!" The words hang between them—too loud, too true.

A beat passes where neither moves. Then—

Jackie’s face does something complicated before settling into a scowl. "I don't care who you hook up with," she lies through clenched teeth, "I just don't get why it had to be some random girl who looks like a *discount version of me*!"

There it is. The real issue.

Shauna freezes because fuck—she can’t possibly deny that. The girl last night had been all wrong angles and forced touches… but yeah. They had still looked eerily similar in Shauna’s eyes that night.

Jackie’s eyes narrow at Shauna’s hesitation. That’s it. She wants to be mad—as mad as she can be before she does something crazy, like cry.

“You are unbelievable!” she shouts, practically spitting the words out. “And the worst part, Shauna? You always act so innocent, like you just keep screwing up, like it’s not even your fault!”

And then Jackie’s voice softens a little, the words coming out in a whisper, almost a plea.

“It was supposed to be me, Shauna,” she says, almost weakly.

Jackie’s heart lurches in her chest. She’s still trying to process everything Shauna’s said, but her brain is on some kind of lag. It takes a moment before she can even breathe again.

“Look, you’re a big girl now, Shauna,” she relents dryly, her voice cracking as she looks away from her, her eyes watering. She can’t do this anymore.

“You don’t need my permission to do whatever you want—*whoever* you want,” she practically growls.

Shauna lets out a dry laugh, her voice cold and bitter.

“Oh, so now it’s cool!” she snaps. She doesn’t exactly know why, but something angry and resentful snaps inside her. And she can’t ignore the jealousy building in her stomach at the thought that Jackie’s not mad about her kissing someone—just that it wasn’t Jackie.

And, of course. She just had to say it herself.

“Why do you care anyway,” Shauna yells,“It’s not like you were doing something about it! You already have a boyfriend!”

Jackie’s jaw clenches and her eyes narrow. She’s never heard Shauna like this—she’s never even seen Shauna like this.

“It’s not the *same,* Shauna!” she says before she can stop herself.

And—she wants to kick herself for letting that slip. She wants to take her words back, but it’s out now.

“We’re not supposed to do it with other people!” Jackie finally blurts out, her face red as she glares at Shauna.

Shauna looks at Jackie now—confused and hurt. What did she mean they’re not supposed to be with other people?

“You’re the one who’s been dating that loser for *years*!” Shauna snaps—and she knows she’s hit a sore spot, but she doesn’t care.

“Why, cause we fool around sometimes? Because—because we kiss or sleep together and don’t talk about it?” she demands, her breathing heavy as she looks at Jackie, “You don’t make sense half the time, Jax!”

Jackie’s eyes widen with recognition. Shauna was right—she* was *the one who started all of this. She was the one who started fooling around with Shauna, just because she wanted a quick kiss or to be hugged by Shauna, for example. Because she knew it was easy, and that Shauna would’ve given her anything she wanted.

And it worked. Jackie liked it—and Shauna liked it—and they’d continued until they’d eventually been kissing and fooling around a lot, but never actually being together.

Jackie feels like she’s been hit in the chest with a baseball bat.

“You’re one to talk about *not* making sense,” she says finally, her eyes blazing as she glares at Shauna. Her voice is trembling, too—but it’s obvious she’s not going to cry.

“I *never* know what you’re thinking, Shauna,” Jackie snaps. “Why didn’t you just come to *me* if you wanted to do anything with someone else?”

Shauna laughs now, the sound sharp and almost cruel as she looks at Jackie.

“It didn’t cross your mind to come talk to me either when you got with Jeff?” Shauna snaps, her lips curling into an angry sneer.

“I get it, Jackie,” she says, her eyes wide,“You wanted to have your cake and eat it, too, huh? I was your little secret—and now you’re mad I did the same?”

Shauna takes in a shaky breath.

“You’re the one who wanted to make sure Jeff wasn’t suspicious of us,” she snaps, “You said you wanted to keep things the way they were. All the fooling around, kissing when we felt like it, and— and—“

Shauna trails off, frustrated and hurt. She doesn’t even know what she’s trying to say. All she knows is that for the past few months—ever since Jackie and Jeff had gotten together—she’d never felt more unwanted in her life.

Jackie feels a sharp stab of guilt when Shauna says that, because it’s true. So, so true.

But she was too scared to talk about it—she didn’t want to lose Shauna if it backfired.

Jackie’s heart is pounding. Her eyes narrow as she glares at Shauna, the heat rising to her cheeks.

“Screw this,” she breathes, clenching her fists as she stands right in front of Shauna. She’s close—really close. And it feels almost like she’s looking right into Shauna’s soul.

“You know what, Shauna? You’re right,” she says slowly, her voice low, “I should’ve come and talked to you. I shouldn’t have chosen Jeff over you.”

“Shauna,” Jackie says, her voice shaking, “I was…trying to protect you. I was trying to make sure that no one would say anything—or think anything was going on.” She sighs, looking up at her helplessly.

“I wanted you to be happy.” Jackie blinks, shaking her head as she says that.

Shauna’s breath catches in her throat at Jackie’s words. She—she did have her best interest in mind. And it seems so obvious now.

Shauna nods shakily, her heart pounding as she looks up at Jackie.

“Yeah,” Shauna whispers. “I should’ve trusted you about Jeff. I’m sorry.”

She looks at Jackie now—at her sweet eyes and her soft hair and her heart shaped face.

“I was being petty.”

Shauna’s breathing grows heavy as she looks at Jackie now. Because all this time, all this hurt and pain—it was because Jackie was just…trying to make sure she was happy?

Shauna reaches out and grabs Jackie’s shoulders, pulling her in for a sloppy—and heated—kiss.

She needs to stop thinking. God, she just needs to not think—just for a little bit. She needs to feel wanted by the only person who matters—by *Jackie.*

Jackie gasps, her lips immediately parting for Shauna. Her hands immediately go to her chest, gently pulling her closer. Her heart is pounding as she just lets Shauna kiss her.

“Shauna,” she breathes as she pulls away, her voice coming out breathless as she keeps her eyes on Shauna’s lips, “We should—we need to—“ And she laughs at her own nervousness.

She glances behind Shauna, at her car. They need more privacy.

Jackie grins and grabs Shauna’s hand, pulling her towards the car.

Shauna’s breath catches in her throat as Jackie grabs her hand. She stumbles over her own feet a little, giggling as Jackie pretty much drags her away.

She doesn’t say anything as she slides into the backseat of her car. And she doesn’t even think. She just leans in and kisses Jackie again, her arms wrapping around her neck, her body practically pressing against her.

She gasps against Jackie’s lips, pulling away slightly to breathe, “God, I want you so bad,” she mumbles breathlessly.

“…We should talk more. But first—“

Shauna pulls Jackie closer until their bodies are pressed up against each other.

“Just—Just don’t stop touching me, Jax. Please.”

Chapter Text

Shauna decides to go to some random frat party that a friend of a friend of a friend is hosting. It’s the first party she’s been to without Jackie, which definitely doesn’t mean anything. She definitely doesn’t want an opportunity to meet new people who won’t just see her as Jackie’s sidekick.

The frat house basement proves to be an almost painful cacophony of flashing lights and blaring music, that mixed with the alcohol almost makes Shauna feel like she’s in space.

Shauna almost jumps out of her skin when her aimless staring into nothingness is interrupting by a voice belonging to a girl sounding beside her.

Shauna jumps slightly, not expecting the sudden intrusion in her self-wallowing.

“What the fu-”

Oh, thank Christ—it’s just Natalie. Shauna breathes.

“Holy crap, I thought you were someone else. Who the hell invited you here?”

Natalie is standing in the doorway beside her, clearly just as surprised to see Shauna as Shauna is to see Natalie.

Natalie’s eyes narrow slightly at Shauna’s response.

”Wow, nice to see you too Shipman,” she says dryly, “And Lottie invited me, for your information, so don’t get all crazy. She actually told me you said you were sad about something and needed to unwind.”

Jackie shows up to the party with Jeff in tow, but he gets caught up in a conversation with his friends the moment they arrive. A familiar face catches Jackie’s eye—Shauna?

“Be right back,” Jackie says, giving Jeff a squeeze on his shoulder, before she heads the direction she’d seen Shauna.

Jackie’s eyes widen when she eventually spots her with Natalie—and she feels like her stomach has just dropped. Shauna looks…good. Like, really good. And Natalie has her full attention.

Shauna rolls her eyes, but the slight quirk of her lips is a dead giveaway that she’s not actually all that mad that Natalie is here. In fact, there’s a small part of her that’s almost grateful for the company.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just messing with you,” Shauna rolls her eyes, but her mouth curls into a crooked smile. “Relax, Scatorccio. I’m not going to kick you out. I just didn’t think this kind of thing was your scene. You seem more….”

She pauses to think of a phrase that might suit a situation such as this, and something witty is on the tip of her tongue when she spots a flash of honey blonde hair among the sea of people. Of course Jackie’s here.

For fuck sake.

Jackie walks up to them, her stomach twisting when she sees Shauna’s lips curve into what almost looks like a genuine smile. God, she looks good. But she feels a swell of jealousy course through her as she watches Shauna with Natalie.

”Hey, Shauna,” Jackie says with a smile before she sees Natalie right next to her. Her smile disappears as soon as she realises Natalie is talking to Shauna—and Shauna’s actually engaging.

”Nat,” Jackie says, glancing at Shauna briefly as she does.

”Didn’t think we’d see you out of your cave.” The look she shoots Natalie is a little accusatory…almost challenging.

It’s almost as if there’s a strange shift in the air when Jackie appears, and suddenly Shauna feels like she has to be on the defensive again. Her walls go up almost instinctively—because that’s probably the only way she’ll be able to get through the rest of this conversation without losing her mind entirely.

”Natalie was just telling me about the time she got banned from a 7/11 for trying to steal beef jerky,” Shauna says, clearly trying to downplay the whole…Natalie-and-Shauna-in-the-same space-together situation.

But that look Jackie’s giving Natalie right now does something ugly to Shauna’s stomach.

Is she…jealous?

Jesus Christ, she doesn’t actually think Shauna and—and Natalie—would ever…

What a joke. Nat and her have and never will be nothing more than friends.

But there’s a part of Shauna that feels a weird sense of satisfaction at seeing Jackie look so bothered.

Jackie doesn’t like how Shauna’s looking at Natalie—like she’s impressed or enjoying herself. And Shauna clearly hadn’t been thinking of her—she probably thought Jackie wasn’t even at this party.

”Natalie trying to steal something,” Jackie rolls her eyes as she glances at Nat, “What a shocker, I never would’ve guessed. Are you sure this isn’t the first time you’ve met?”

The second part is obviously directed at Shauna. And Jackie’s voice is laced with sarcasm.

She knows that Shauna loves it when she gets jealous—not that she understands why. But it’s almost like they’re having some weird silent argument over Natalie. It’s bizarre and a little frustrating that Shauna has this effect on her.

Is this really something they’re going to turn into an argument? Really? Over Natalie Scatorccio of all people? It’s almost laughable to Shauna—she has to bite the inside of her mouth to bite back a laugh. They’re doing this now? Right now in front of Natalie? Okay then.

Of course Jackie can’t stand the thought of Shauna being friends, or even acquaintances, with anyone other than her. She probably won’t like the fact Shauna and Tai have been studying together for the past month either. But that’s a whole other can of worms.

Natalie scoffs at Jackie’s comment before giving her a once over in a way that’s definitely meant to be sassy.

“Jeez Shauna, are you sure you don’t need saving from this control freak?”

Shauna can’t help but let out a snort of laughter—she can practically see the gears turning in Jackie’s head at that, and, yeah, okay—part of her is absolutely loving this.

And the more she seems to bother Jackie, the better Shauna feels. They’re practically having a silent conversation through their eyes alone, and Shauna’s clearly enjoying the fact that she’s pushing Jackie’s buttons. It’s like a game to her.

Shauna’s not sure what they’re even arguing about anymore—only that it feels like a battle she can’t afford to lose.

Jackie’s eyes linger on Shauna the whole time—and she can feel jealousy swell inside her. She wants the conversation to be over, and for Natalie to just not be here. If she were any less mature, she’d tell Natalie where to go.

She doesn’t want to make a scene though—and there’s so many people around. It’s just…hard to make Natalie leave when she’s making Shauna talk.

She doesn’t like how they’re standing so close.

”No,” Jackie snaps, not even looking at Natalie, “We’re good. Aren’t we Shauna?”

She smiles—it’s fake, overly sweet, and she’s just trying to make Natalie leave. Because it’s obvious Natalie is antagonising her, on purpose.

Shauna doesn’t miss the insinuation in Jackie’s voice—the one that almost screams ‘you’re mine’ louder than her words are—and it makes her both want to throw her arms around Jackie immediately, and be even pettier and stick her tongue out like a five-year-old.

So naturally, Shauna chooses to take the middle ground and not pick a side.

”Yeah, I guess I kinda like having my leash pulled sometimes, Shauna says with a sly grin before she downs the rest of her cup.

It takes everything Shauna has not to let her emotions show on her face—to look as cool and nonchalant as she can. To appear like she isn’t absolutely loving these little games of theirs.

Jackie raises her eyebrows when Shauna downs the rest of her cup—her lips twitching with amusement. And she’s not upset when Shauna says that, she likes it actually. And she also likes how Shauna knows exactly what she’s doing. But they’re in a room full of people right now—and Natalie’s here.

She wants to push Shauna into the nearest bathroom and make her regret those words. She wants to bite her, tell her not to be such a flirt, that she’s going to lose control. Her words make her want to forget Natalie is standing two feet away. She’s a little mortified that Nat even heard that, but she can’t do anything about it now.

So she leans in and grins as she lowers her voice, “If you like having your leash pulled so badly, Shipman,” she says, “then why don’t we try you being on all fours?”

And with that, Natalie seems to have sensed the atmosphere. Like she knows she’s clearly interrupting something.

”Alright guys,” Natalie says, a slightly weirded out and almost knowing look on her face as she puts up her hands in mock surrender, “I know when I’m not wanted. See you later Shipman.”

It takes every ounce of Shauna’s willpower to not completely flush an embarrassing shade of red in front of Natalie.

Jesus Christ, this was not exactly what Shaua had in mind with that response. But there’s a small, excited, part of her that can’t help but thrill at the fact that Jackie’s clearly very much on the same train of thought that Shauna is.

All she can do is clear her throat and try to regain even an ounce of her dignity as Natalie leaves.

The way Natalie makes a very wise choice the hell out of there is like a little present to her. Like the universe itself has given her the perfect opportunity to really get under Jackie’s skin now.

“Jeez, kinky much.”

But Shauna leans in as well—her breath hot against Jackie’s ear—and drops her voice to that throaty purr that she knows makes Jackie absolutely stupid.

“..But only if you promise to leave it on.”

Jackie stiffens slightly as Shauna leans in close, a small groan leaving her mouth as Shauna husks against her ear and she bites her lip to try and stop herself from making a much more embarrassing noise.

And at that, Jackie’s had enough of being in a crowded room. She reaches down and takes Shauna’s hand, pulling her further and further away from everyone else and towards the bathroom—but not before she tells a passing friend of hers:

“Find Taissa. Tell her if anyone tries to use the bathroom in here, knock as hard as you can.”

Shauna follows Jackie willingly, a little amused smirk on her face because she knows *exactly* where this is going. And she’s so goddamn ready for it too.

Shauna simply laughs and lets herself be pulled along by a very clearly frustrated Jackie.

She knows it’s a little mean, but she can’t help it. She knows she’ll pay for it eventually, but Shauna doesn’t mind paying the price for being such a tease. Shauna likes a little punishment every now and then.

It’s not surprising that Tai will be playing defence for them, and Shauna can’t help but smile at the thought—because what would she and Jackie do without Tai?

They’re actually doing this.

At some frat house, of all places.

Her hands find purchase on Jackie’s hips almost instantaneously as soon as they cross the threshold of the bathroom and get the door shut behind them. Shauna presses herself against Jackie and slides a leg in between Jackie’s to hold them there whilst she’s on Jackie’s lips before either of them can get a word out.

Jackie lets out a small groan as Shauna gets into her space, her arms wrapping around Shauna’s shoulders as her hand comes up to her hair to tug gently.

She gasps slightly as Shauna presses her leg between hers and is suddenly almost atop her, and she smiles slightly before kissing her back with urgency—hard—with a lot of force and even more tongue. Her nails dig into Shauna’s shoulders and drag down her back.

She’s already losing control—and she can barely think straight.

Her hands snake down Shauna’s back and to her behind—and she grabs it roughly.

She’s wanted this—wished for it all night. And she doesn’t care how shameless she is about it.

Jackie’s kisses are needy and desperate and hungry—wanting to get her mouth on every piece of skin she can. She’s been waiting all week for this and this is how Shauna repays her. It makes her want to be even more difficult.

Shauna lets out a low moan as Jackie digs her nails into her skin and pulls her as close as possible whilst pressing her thigh against the warmth between Jackie’s legs and swallowing every little sound that leaves Jackie’s lips hungrily—desperately.

She wraps her arms tightly around Jackie’s waist and brings her even further in, as if she were trying to fuse them together, and makes a low, slightly muffled pleased sound against Jackie’s mouth as she slides a hand underneath the hem of her skirt, nails digging into her soft skin. She wants control, and she wants it now.

She slides her teeth along Jackie’s bottom lip, gently biting down before she pulls back.

“God, you were so jealous back there, it was kinda cute,” she whispers against Jackie’s lips, her breath hot and heady.

Jackie lets out a sound that’s half-growl, half-moan as Shauna bites her bottom lip and drags her hand up her thigh. She lets Shauna take control—knows that she needs to be put in her place tonight, even after all of her confident bravado earlier. She doesn’t like that Nat called Shauna by her nickname.

She’s all for the soft, sensual touches, letting Shauna take control. Her breathing is rough as she rocks herself against Shauna’s thigh, her eyes fluttering closed.

She’s almost embarrassed that she’s this worked up and they’ve only just started; it doesn’t take much friction from Shauna’s leg for her to get turned on. She loves when Shauna takes control—especially during times like this when it’s unexpected and unplanned. She needs Shauna. She bites her lip as Shauna’s hand travels over her thighs, her hips thrusting forwards as Shauna’s hand gets further up her thigh.

She’s so painfully aware how close the party is right now. And the last thing she wants to do is draw attention to their whereabouts. But the more control Shauna assumes, the more Jackie’s brain shuts off.

“S-Shut up.” She mumbles weakly.

Shauna laughs at Jackie’s response—she’s clearly still a little miffed from Shauna calling her out.

She brings her lips to Jackie’s ear again, nibbles at it for a second and hums with some sort of smug satisfaction.

“I don’t think you actually want me to be quiet, baby,” Shauna says as she leans in closer and trails her lips across Jackie’s neck, biting down gently on the spot where shoulder and neck meet before she places a kiss beneath Jackie’s ear. Her voice is a low, husky whisper against Jackie’s skin, and Shauna is loving how reactive she is right now. She’s almost positive that if she stopped, Jackie would probably beg her for more.

Chapter Text

It finally occurs to Jackie that she always helps Shauna pick out her outfits, but it’s never the other way round.

Well, she does do it on their mall trips, but it’s starkly different—being in the comfort of her own home and not crowded into a tiny changing room with almost blaring fluorescent lights. Instead, it’s Shauna sat on her Jackie’s bed this time, warm light softening her features as Jackie flicks through her familiar collection of clothes.

Shauna is now bestowed with control that she is not entirely sure if she can handle.

Jackie's bedroom is so familiar and comforting that Shauna feels herself physically relax the moment she steps through the door. She sinks into Jackie's soft mattress, enjoying the warmth of the sun filtering through the curtains.

Then Jackie turns back to look at her, holding up a yellow cardigan and tilting her head to the side in consideration.

"So, what d'you think?"

Shauna blinks, trying to process the question. "Uh, about the cardigan?"

Jackie rolls her eyes—fond and dramatic all at once—as she dramatically flips the cardigan over one shoulder. "No, about my entire existence," she deadpans. *"Yes,* the cardigan! Is it cute or what?"

Shauna blinks again. The fabric is soft-looking, sunshine-yellow with little embroidered daisies along the collar—very Jackie. Very... bright, warm, impossible to look away from.

Like someone else Shauna knows.

"It’s..." Shauna hesitates for half a second too long before muttering, "Fine." She doesn’t trust herself with anything more enthusiastic.

Jackie gasps—hand flying to her chest like Shauna just personally insulted her bloodline. "*Fine?!* Excuse you! This is vintage!" She shoves it into Shauna’s lap with a pout. "Here. Feel how soft it is and repent for your crimes."

It is stupidly soft.

...And now Jackie's standing there in just a tank top and shorts while she waits for judgment, which isn't helping Shauna's ability to form coherent thoughts.

"Vintage clothes aren't always good," Shauna points out. "Like, have you seen your mom's shirts from the 70s? God, those are *hideous*."

She holds up the cardigan for a closer look, running her fingers along the embroidered details. She can't help but compare how the colour matches Jackie's hair. The yellow is brighter and more vivid than the pale strands, but there's a similarity there, nonetheless. Shauna shakes the thought from her head—this is not the time to be poetic about Jackie's hair.

Shauna's fingers curl into the fabric almost involuntarily before she tosses it back at Jackie like it burns her. "And you already have, like, three yellow cardigans."

Jackie catches it with one hand and sticks out her tongue—so mature. "Yeah, but this one has *daisies*. That makes it different."

Shauna rolls her eyes—but there’s no real bite to it. Instead, she leans back on Jackie’s bed and gestures vaguely toward the closet. "Then just wear it already if you like it so much."

She absolutely does not want to see how cute Jackie will look in it. Nope. Not at all.

Jackie gasps as if this is a groundbreaking idea. *"Genius."* She immediately shimmies into the cardigan with way too much enthusiasm for someone putting on a sweater, flipping her hair out from under the collar dramatically. Then she spins in place—arms outstretched like she's showing off a designer gown instead of thrifted knitwear.

"Well? How do I look?" Her grin is smug, but there's something fragile underneath it—like Shauna’s opinion actually matters more than she wants to admit.

And Shauna knows that expression well enough by now to know Jackie isn't entirely joking.

So she swallows hard and tells herself that looking at your best friend like this is totally normal.

"...Cute," Shauna mutters finally, "Like some kind of... sunny meadow nymph or whatever." Great wording.

Jackie beams, twirling again—shorter this time, just enough for the cardigan to flare out slightly around her waist. "A meadow nymph? Wow," she teases, "Didn't know you had such a way with words."

Shauna wants to throttle her. She also never wants this moment to end.

"Shut up," Shauna grumbles, throwing a pillow at Jackie’s face. She misses on purpose. Probably.

Jackie catches it easily and hugs it to her chest, still grinning like she won something. "Okay but—if I'm the meadow nymph, does that make you the brooding forest witch who steals me away in the middle of the night?"

Oh god.

Shauna chokes on air.

"That's not how nymphs work," she snaps—too quickly, "And I don’t brood." Lie.

Jackie leans in close (too close), batting her lashes with exaggerated innocence. “Suuuure you don’t.”

The warmth from earlier is back tenfold—burning under Shauna's skin until she feels lightheaded with it.

“Hm.. I wonder if it would look good with one of my mini skirts..”

And there it is. Their familiar dance, complete with teasing lilt and not-at-all subtle challenge.

Shauna’s brain momentarily short circuits at the idea of Jackie in one of her tiny cheerleading skirts—then immediately files it away to over-analyse later, trying to ignore the way her mouth is suddenly very, very dry.

Shauna straightens her shoulders, forcing herself to look unfazed by the suggestion. (She’s not.) “Do whatever you want,” she says breezily, “I don’t care.”

Liar.

In reality, Shauna has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep her expression neutral—because if she opens her mouth now, her voice is going to come out too low, too ragged.

Jackie raises an eyebrow playfully—her smile tinged with something that makes Shauna's face heat up.

"You totally care," Jackie teases, "That's why I'm asking you."

What, so Jackie can torture her further by showing off her legs in a short skirt? How is that fair? Shauna wants to argue, but Jackie's already shimmied into one of her tiny pleated skirts—this one a bright, bubblegum pink.

Then Jackie turns back to Shauna, one hand on her hip and the other flipping her hair over her shoulder.

Shauna opens her mouth to argue—but the words dry up in her throat at the sight of Jackie in a mini skirt. She looks so... so hot, it should be criminal. Shauna's gaze drags involuntarily down Jackie's legs—the smooth expanse of skin on display just inches from the hem of the skirt.

Okay—play it cool. Try not to look too turned on.

Shauna swallows hard and glances back up to meet Jackie's smirk. "Fine. It looks good."

Understatement of the century.

Shauna swallows, hoping Jackie doesn't notice how red she's turning.

But then Jackie pouts, and Shauna is done for.

She can't stand those stupid pouts. Or resist them.

Jackie gives her a cheeky grin, all bright eyes and dimples as she tugs on the hem of her skirt—as if she’s self-conscious.

Then she turns around, showing off the way the fabric rides up even higher on her thighs and—God. Shauna’s face is definitely bright red by now, her hands clenching into fists in her lap.

"Of course it looks good," Jackie protests, "It's my favourite skirt! But does it work with the shirt? Because I think I have this top that's, like, super cute and frilly, and it would look even better with the yellow."

She clears her throat, trying to sound indifferent. "I dunno. Just try it on if you wanna see."

A terrible idea. A horrible idea. But one she can't resist.

Jackie beams and immediately rummages through her closet for the shirt in question—while Shauna sits there like an idiot, trying not to stare at Jackie’s ass while she bends over.

This isn't fair.

A few seconds later, Jackie pulls out a flowy white top with delicate lace trim and holds it up triumphantly. "Found it!" she announces before turning around and tossing a sly smirk at Shauna.

"Wanna help me put this on?"

And Shauna tries to say no, really tries to say it because there's probably some line being crossed in all of this (she's just not sure what it is exactly).

But Shauna has an unhealthy addiction to making bad decisions.

"Fine." It comes out more strangled than she intended, but Shauna's already reaching for the top. Her knuckles graze Jackie's arms as she settles the fabric over Jackie's shoulders, and the soft, satisfied hum that comes from the back of her friend's throat at finally getting what she wants nearly sends Shauna into cardiac arrest.