Chapter Text
He had a spectacular talent for plans that backfired in epic ways.
He knew this. His most impressive failure had to be the disaster that was his attempt to blow up Westerburg High, but that didn't mean that he didn't have a very long list of the other ways things had gone wrong, from simple mistakes to what could only be described as cluster fucks.
Moving in with Veronica should not fall into that last category, but after less than a week living in the same penthouse, he was sure that it did, if only in the sense of the havoc it was wrecking on their respective lives.
On the outside, it didn't look like much of anything was happening, not to anyone else, not even with the damned pretense they were under thanks to his baby sister. Enid had rolled her eyes at him taking the bedroom at the other end of the building from Veronica's, trying to tell him that they didn't fool anyone, and he'd just looked at her until she caved and said she was sorry, though if the amount of buzzing coming from her phone was any indication, she'd been talking it up with Veronica's friends plenty ever since they moved in.
Still, things remained platonic, which he kept assuring himself was for the best. He wasn't really sure about this staying in one place thing, seeing as he had every reason to go back to being a dead man living almost completely off the grid, every reason but the two people who also lived—well, Enid's room was not her main residence, but that didn't change the fact that she had a room here, too—in this same building.
The trouble was trying to define the line between him and the one who was not his sister. Enid was pretty easy to get along with—give her a coffee or a quaggan and she was good, sometimes a slushie was enough, and so he had no real problems there, even when she threw things at him and claimed she hated him.
Veronica... that was another story, one that seemed to be written in a foreign language half the time. He knew her, even with the intervening years, and some of the things that had attracted him to her back then were still very much there. Watching her come back from where her last case with the FBI had put her, reclaiming her strength and her intuition, that was impressive as hell, all the more so because he'd been falling apart at the seams while she did it.
He was weak in comparison, and he hated it.
Oh, he didn't show it. That had never been his style, not when he was trapped with his father or after he met her or when he got free and had no idea what the hell to do with his life. He supposed when he was addicted he was obvious, but that was different. He hadn't been in control then, and that weakness was one he'd battled and mostly overcome since.
Not that he hadn't had a hard time pulling himself off the meds after getting stabbed again, but he was off, he was sober, and he was doing... fine.
Relatively speaking, at least.
He'd devoted himself to being a model roommate, trying not to leave his meager possessions out in any of the shared areas. He didn't complain about Veronica's time in the bathroom—since when was she so long in the shower, anyway? He'd never known her to spend that much time in the bathroom getting ready, not in the past and not even when she was getting ready to meet her ex-husband.
JD grimaced. He did not need to think about that, as it made him look like the obsessed stalker type he tried hard not to be, but the thing was, he never would have forgiven himself if she'd married a complete creep—which got complicated because he knew he was bad for her and still wanted her anyway—so he'd had to make sure Hanson treated her decent.
That was the past. Now he was being a good neighbor and roommate, and he figured that would be enough to make things easier, if not better.
He'd even thought it was more or less working until that incident in the kitchen. Breakfast was supposed to be a simple thing—okay, he'd gotten as fancy as he knew how with the eggs, but he was actually proud of that meal since he'd mostly made it up himself, based on stuff his mom used to make and improving on it.
Veronica had taken it too far, and the idea that it was a mere pathetic attempt at seducing her rankled him, leaving him in a sour mood for days.
Not that he'd shown it. He'd forced his way through the day without any sign it was eating at him. He still made meals for them, kept his space clean, and didn't do those stereotypical things that women on television found so annoying about men who shared their bathrooms.
Everything was fine.
He wanted to get in his car and drive across the country, bury himself in dozens of shell companies and aliases and go completely offline and off the grid again, but he was perfectly fine.
JD was driving her crazy, and he wasn't doing anything wrong.
That was a strange thing to say, but it was true. JD had been a surprisingly thoughtful roommate. He cleaned up after himself, didn't do those annoying bathroom things that were the stuff of horror stories or comedy routines, and he cooked. That was probably one of the worst things he could do, not because he was bad at it but because he was good at it.
That was like... torture. He shouldn't be a good cook.
She was talking about her psychotic ex-boyfriend who'd killed people and tried to blow up their school, and he was not supposed to be good at something so... normal.
It didn't help that she'd never really taken to cooking and would much rather let him prepare all the meals. He didn't bother asking her about the menu, which should irritate her, but in the time since they'd moved in and he'd unofficially assumed kitchen duty, he had yet to make something she refused to eat, and even the stuff she was a little leery of ended up okay.
For someone who'd seemed to think a turbo dog was the height of cuisine when they met, he'd come a long way.
He'd come a long way in other respects, too, which was unsettling at best.
She'd moved in with him figuring that even Enid's token bedroom wouldn't be enough to keep him from pushing that envelope, always trying to get more from her than what she was willing to give, and yet he hadn't. Yes, they still flirted, but when she looked back on those times, she had the sinking feeling that she'd initiated most of them.
Maybe even all of them.
She had told herself she was not getting involved with him again, and she meant it. No, she didn't want him dead, and she didn't want him broken by sadistic killers that were far worse than he'd ever been, but that didn't mean she was dating him again or marrying him, no matter what his sister did or how she pushed their fake engagement.
Veronica fiddled with the ring on her finger and grimaced. She was not sure what she was going to do, not when she had no real good reason to say they needed separate homes. It wasn't like they didn't have their own space or that he'd broken any boundaries.
She'd thought he had—and she did, that morning when he made her eggs and her body apparently decided that was all she needed to throw away everything sane and try to seduce him that time around.
She'd even figured on that ending a lot more awkwardly than it had when it didn't deteriorate into sex. They'd laughed, he'd finished his meal in his room and taken the temptation away from her, which led to her taking a very long and very cold shower, and her eggs had been a lot less appealing by the time she was done with that.
All and all, that was better for both of them. She knew that. They should not be involved, and in a little while, they could stage a breakup for the sake of her friends and end the pretense for good. They'd even be free to go completely separate ways by then, especially if the business continued to be like it had been so far—nonexistent.
She rubbed the back of her neck. This tension was because they weren't doing anything. It gave her too much time to think about her living situation, which was not something she needed to do. As long as they weren't fighting, she didn't need to worry about sharing the apartment.
Things were good.
She caught JD looking at her again across the room, and even though it wasn't like he was staring at her with lust—if anything, he looked thoughtful, a bit confused, and then he looked away without speaking, going back to the book he was reading.
That. That was just so wrong, too. Oh, Enid had told her that he read psychology books, but it was still a shock to Veronica's system to see him sprawled out on the couch, thumbing through one and making notes.
The glasses made it even worse. JD had never struck her as the type of guy who'd admit to needing glasses, since he'd been raised in the age when glasses equaled nerd and a death sentence in the cutthroat world of high school politics, but he had them now and wore them without any thought or embarrassment.
And he looked good in them.
Veronica wanted to smack her head into something at that thought. She was not supposed to be admiring JD in that way. In any way, even if he was turning out to be a decent roommate in almost every respect.
She really had to stop thinking about the tight t-shirt from the other morning and was glad he'd gone over to mostly lounge wear since, the ultimate in unflattering clothing in sweatpants—though when they weren't paired with a too large sweater, she had a hard time focusing on other things again.
She just needed work to focus on. That was it. As soon as they had a real job, all of this would go away and they'd be perfectly fine.
Enid had decided they all needed an intervention. It wasn't hard to see that things weren't going well around here, didn't take a genius—though there were three of them here, twiddling their thumbs and going slowly insane—and they needed a change. If Jay got any more restless, he'd leave, and Veronica looked like she was desperate enough to go back to the FBI.
They were all sorts of weird with each other right now, too, though on the surface it didn't seem like it. Jay was acting way too damned nice, and in Enid's experience, that was never a good sign—he got super polite to the people he intended to make pay—and he was dangerous when he was unoccupied, but then he usually had a steady-ish stream of clients as Judas Dane.
People were almost always suckers for psychics, and while he didn't actually do the suckering, not so much, he did at least interview someone once a day, even if he didn't do any real work for them. That was how he'd found that gaslighting thing. He'd talked to them, dismissed them, and spent the afternoon puzzling over it until he figured out what it was and set off to prove it.
Strange as that one was, it was kind of fun.
Watching him try to stave off boredom by reading updated versions of the psychology books she swore he must have memorized by now was not fun.
Veronica was worse. She didn't even have a hobby to fall back on, near as Enid could tell.
“We are having a movie marathon.”
Jay looked up from his book, taking off his glasses and rubbing his nose. “No.”
“Oh, what, JD, are you afraid she'll subject you to some excessively girly and romantic piece that your fragile masculinity can't handle?”
“I think you like my masculinity just fine and don't think it's the least bit fragile,” Jay told her with a smirk, watching her go red. “I was objecting to the movies as I'm almost certain I'll be subjected to something with subtitles, and I can't take the eyestrain right now—and yes, Niddie, the Lord of the Rings counts as subtitles.”
“It's Elvish.”
“And they sing. No.”
Enid rolled her eyes. “Fine. You pick the movies, but we are watching something. We are doing something different for a change.”
“Movies are different from what you do at your desk all day?” Jay asked, giving her a calculated look. “Exactly how much time do you spend on Netflix watching anime anyway?”
“If I was actually getting paid for this, you could complain about that, but as we are not working and I am therefore not getting paid, you can shut it. Now, what are we watching?”
Jay snorted, rising from his chair. “I never agreed to watching anything.”
“Oh, come on,” Veronica said. “We'll make some popcorn, have some slushies—you did buy that machine for a reason—and have a fun night in for a change. Enid's right. We should do something different.”
“You two are agreeing on something. I do not like this. We must find Enid a significant other so I am no longer outnumbered.”
Enid snorted. “Any guy I date better not side with my brother against me.”
“Ah, so we see the truth at last. Enid's been pining for someone. That's why she wants to watch movies. She needs to lose herself in the cinematic experience and pretend that epic love scene playing out on screen is hers.”
“I fucking hate you right now and take back all invitations to movie night,” Enid said, turning to Veronica. “You're still invited, but he's not.”
“Wow,” Veronica said. “I think you hit a nerve, JD.”
“I take it back. I hate both of you.”
He laughed. “Oh, please, baby sis. You make it too easy. Though Veronica will be very disappointed when I tell you I think it's fine to adopt a pet from the local shelter.”
Veronica turned to him, frowning. “You're joking, right?”
“Enid takes attachment to pets very seriously. I think it's an only child thing,” Jay told her. “And that reminds me—all animal related movies are off the table.”
Enid rolled her eyes. “Fine. We'll watch something stupid and inaccurate.”
“That's every movie in Hollywood.”
“I hate you, Jay. I really hate you.”
“Would you forgive me if I said we could watch Spaceballs?”
“Maybe.”
Somehow, Enid's movie marathon ended up with her asleep halfway through the second movie of the night, though Veronica wasn't sure she blamed her, since JD had stuck History of the World Part One as the follow up to Spaceballs, leaving Enid obviously bored, and since she'd been banned from doing anything on a tablet or her phone, she fell asleep quickly.
Veronica suspected that was on purpose, since no one in their right mind picked History over Blazing Saddles or Young Frankenstein. It wasn't like it was a terrible movie, but there were much better ones, that was for sure.
She knew she wished she was a bit more interested in the movie and not paying as much attention to the man watching it with her. Enid had slumped on his shoulder, and he hadn't bothered to move her, as much as he clearly disliked older brother pillow duty. He kept fidgeting under her, but Enid didn't wake, so he just left her where she was.
The whole thing was strangely adorable, and Veronica didn't like herself much for the thoughts she had that were not at all PG about him. He was being sweet, and that should not make her feel like ruining the whole thing by coming onto him.
She was not doing that again.
Even if a part of her really did regret not eloping when they were in Vegas.
Veronica shifted and settled on JD's other shoulder, and he eyed her sideways, trying to figure out if she'd done it on purpose. He'd been way too aware of how close they'd ended up sitting, him crammed in the middle between the two of them, and Enid falling asleep on him had actually pushed him closer to Veronica.
She smelled like something floral with a touch of vanilla or something, and it was driving him crazy. He swore he could kiss her right here and now, as awkward as that would be half buried under his sister, who slept like the dead, apparently.
He swore he was waking her and prodding her into her bedroom as soon as this movie was over.
Veronica's knee bumped his leg, and he glanced toward her again, seeing her head bob a little. She straightened up and moved away from him again.
He figured it was just as well. They weren't supposed to cross these lines, and he knew it. He settled back, smiling a bit at the latest on screen pun, and then Veronica's head hit his shoulder. It was a light thing, just a gentle nudge, but it sent a shockwave through his entire body, and he felt like shoving her far away from him so he didn't have to have that scent right next to him or her so damned close.
She made a low humming noise and snuggled closer to him, and he bit back a swear, not sure he was willing to wake her, even if he should.
Enid was dead weight on his side, and he really wanted her gone, as much as having Veronica on him was affecting him. There were some things a man would rather not do in front of his younger sister, asleep or not.
He tried not to groan as the credits rolled on the movie. Now he didn't even have that, but he wasn't going anywhere, not without making two women very, very cranky.
Veronica's hand snaked across his stomach, and he frowned down at her, thinking she had to be awake and screwing with him, but she showed no signs of consciousness even as she mumbled something that sounded a lot like mine.
He sighed, turning to kiss the top of her head. He should ignore it. Or deny it.
He couldn't.
“Yours,” he agreed quietly. “Completely.”