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It occurred to Veronica that she'd made a horrible mistake in sharing an apartment with JD.
The thought was distant, somewhere back in her head, far from where it should have been when she stopped in the kitchen, her sleep deprived brain not really functioning this early in the morning and promptly short-circuited by the fact that JD cooked breakfast.
There's coffee, too, and that was far from fair, but the real low blow was that his choice of sleep attire left very little to the imagination. Veronica hadn't been imagining it, no, not at all, though she was well aware that he'd filled out since they were teenagers and he carried around a lot more lean muscle now than he did before—really, he'd been kind of on the scrawny side as a teen—and it was something she'd noticed back when he first reappeared in her life.
Noticed, but never needed to do anything about.
Except this morning, the lack of sleep and a lot of other things were telling her that she should do something about that t-shirt of his because something that ordinary could not possibly be that sexy, and since when was he a boxer man over briefs? Because she swore he'd been for the tighty-whiteys when they were younger, and she wasn't sure what to make of the change.
“You're awake. Good. I never did find out—you wouldn't have gone vegetarian or vegan on me? No, not you. You barely had time to eat and—lived on fast food, which does not cater to the alternative lifestyle so much—though gluten free is making inroads everywhere. Did you know you're not actually allergic to wheat, though? It's all about the—”
“We're eloping.”
JD stopped, staring at her. “Um, in the first place, I believe you missed that little window, as it came and went when we were actually in Vegas, but in the second—third, fourth, onto infinium—we're not engaged, you don't want to marry me, and we're not even sure we can make this thing work as business partners. I shudder to think of what my sister has done at this early hour to cause that reaction, and perhaps it is best you don't tell me.”
He turned, setting down the spatula and turning to the coffee pot. He filled her up a cup and passed it to her. “Here. Drink this. Wake up. And try not to murder my baby sister. Her sense of humor is very warped, after all. It must be a Dean thing, some kind of defective gene that goes down our line.”
Veronica studied her cup, looking at the steam coming off of it. He turned back to the meal, humming a bit to himself as he finished up, turning everything off and getting out plates.
He set them on the counter and looked up at her. “You want to dish yourself or should I do it for you? Scrambled eggs isn't much, I know, but you add in a little onion, some sausage, few peppers, a bit of cheese... secret sauce and paprika...”
She snorted, and he grinned at her, dishing them both up a plate. He took out a fork, placing everything in front of her. Then he set to work on his own plate, leaning back against the counter.
She set down her coffee and took a bite. After swallowing it down, she repeated, “We're eloping.”
He choked on his food. “Veronica, it wasn't that good of a meal.”
“No one has cooked for me since I lived at home with my parents, and the answer to everything there was paté.”
“Or spaghetti with lots of oregano.”
“Okay, yes, but that was one of few things she knew how to make, so it's not that surprising.”
“And this meal is no miracle. You really need to finish that coffee and wake up so that we have a real conversation instead of you saying things you'll regret later.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “Exactly what part of I'm marrying you to make you my kitchen slave did you not understand?”
“To be honest, all of it.”
She sighed. Why was he being so difficult about this? He was the one that still admitted to feelings, after all. She crossed over to him, cornering him against the sink and taking hold of his innocuous but offensive t-shirt.
“You're enjoying this.”
“Um...”
“You did this on purpose.”
“In that I fully intended to make and eat breakfast, yes. In whatever this strange reaction is to me cooking, no. I mean, it's flattering that you seem to be throwing yourself at me, but we're only a few days into living in the same general area and we have a lot of issues—do I have to remind you that people died? That's not really a good thing and—”
“Every time you protest, you only convince me more that you did it all on purpose.”
“Oh, so I cooked you food and made you coffee to seduce you.”
“Yes.”
“And this... worked?”
“You know it did, you asshole.”
“I'm sorry. I'm just a little bit confused by all of this since I just woke up and—”
She cut him off with a kiss, not wanting to hear any more than she already had. He was just doing it to push her buttons, and it was working too well, so she hated him for it. That, and this t-shirt. It had to go. She wanted it gone and off and somewhere she didn't have to see the way it clung to him and made her want to get it off and put her hands there instead.
She pulled back, trying to get herself under control again.
“I see I have no need to buy a 'kiss the cook' apron.”
“You are such a bastard. Admit that you did this all to seduce me.”
He put his hands on her arms and guided her a step back. “No, I didn't, and if that's what you think, you need to go sleep whatever this mood is off because I'm really not feeling like having my fragile little heart broken again.”
She shook her head. “I'm going to smack you.”
“I think Enid needs to stay here on a permanent basis. I fear for my virtue.”
“I am so going to hurt you,” Veronica whispered, and he laughed, letting his head rest against hers. “I know you did it on purpose.”
“Okay, fine, it was part of my evil master plan, but I figured it would take it a few weeks or months before it had any real effect on you,” he agreed, smiling at her. “I did not for a moment think you'd try to jump my bones this morning.”
She felt herself redden. “Don't say that again. Ever. It's just wrong. In fact, don't say anything again. Just... don't.”
“And here we were going to elope.”