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12:45 Quarter to One (We're Talking All Night)

Summary:

She awakens to someone gently shaking her shoulder. Instantly her eyes are open, fingers reaching for the gun she keeps under her pillow.

“Just me.”

She blinks the last vestiges of sleep out of her eyes to see Jason’s darkened silhouette hovering over her.

“Why are you up at,” she squints at the clock next to her bed, trying to make out the tiny red numbers, “one am?”

“I want to show you something. Come on.”

or

Things You Said At 1 am

Notes:

So when I looked it up, two birthdates popped up for Nicky, 1979 and 1983. I went with the latter one because I'm pretty sure that was the one that was accurate to the films. This puts Nicky at 19 and Jason at 24. And while them as a couple at this age makes me a little uneasy, they're both legal, consenting adults, so we're just going to roll with it.

Title taken from Talking All Night by Hall & Oates.

Work Text:

She awakens to someone gently shaking her shoulder. Instantly her eyes are open, fingers reaching for the gun she keeps under her pillow.

“Just me.”

She blinks the last vestiges of sleep out of her eyes to see Jason’s darkened silhouette hovering over her.

“Why are you up at,” she squints at the clock next to her bed, trying to make out the tiny red numbers, “one am?”

“I want to show you something. Come on.”

“Jason, it’s one am.” She can run on a low amount of sleep for a while, but a good eight hours is preferable. If they’re not in imminent danger, she knows where she’d rather be, and that is in her nice, warm bed.

“I know. Just trust me.”

Herein lies one of their personality differences, she thinks. In that he is very much a morning person, and she is not. Still, because she’s a sucker for her boyfriend apparently, she gets up.

“Put on a coat,” he whispers. “It’s cold outside.”

“We’re going outside?”

“Yeah.”

She’d rather not go outside into the cold, night air, but in the moonlight coming in from the window, she can see the ridiculous smile Jason has on his face, so she sighs and accepts the sweatshirt he hands her.

Pulling the sweatshirt over her head, she follows him out onto the balcony. He sits down on the little bench she has out there and pats the spot next to him. She sits down next to him. It’s cold outside, but not too cold, and the warm body next to her helps.

“What are we doing?” she asks.

He points upward and both their heads tilt to look at the sky.

“Looking at the stars.” His arm extends to wrap around her

She laughs, not in a way that is mocking or showing displeasure, but not in a way that is meant to convey pure happiness either. “You woke me up at one am to have us look at stars?”

“They’re pretty. And it’s not like you can see them during the day.”

“You know what’s even more pretty? My bed. And my blankets. And sleep. I don’t see those during the day either.”

He kisses the side of her head. “Alright, you win. The stars aren’t the only reason why I woke you up.”

“Oh?” They’re teasing each other now, light and gentle, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. “So why’d you actually wake me up?”

He pulls his arm back from its spot on her shoulders and stands up. “I’ll be right back. Close your eyes.”

She laughs again, and this time it is to convey happiness. “It’s one am, I can’t see much with my eyes open.” But she closes her eyes anyway.

She can hear him moving around in her small kitchen for about two minutes before his footsteps come closer, and he steps out onto the balcony.

“Okay. You can open your eyes.”

She opens her eyes, and there in front of her is Jason, holding two plates with cupcakes on them, one of them topped with a lit candle, wearing the proudest smile on his face.

“Happy birthday, Nicky.”

She giggles, honest to God giggles, as he sits down next to her and hands her her plate.

“Make a wish.”

She blows out the candle and wishes for a hundred, thousand, million more moments like this.

Unwrapping the cupcake, she takes a bite and is met with the taste of sweet frosting which is suspiciously similar to that of the bakery three streets away.

“Mmm,” she says, “you got me red velvet!”

“Yes. And because it’s your birthday, I won’t debate you as to whether red velvet should be a flavor in the first place.”

“Ohh,” she says, playfully mocking him, “he’s so thoughtful.”

They laugh in harmony before drifting off into comfortable silence while they eat.

Eventually, when their plates have been put to the side and they’re both just sitting together looking at the stars (which are rather pretty), she resettles herself so her head is in his lap.

“Thank you for this.” She reaches for his hand, threading her fingers through his.

“Even if it meant waking you up?”

She laughs softly. “Yes, even if it meant waking me up.”

His finger traces a line down her cheek. “I love you,” he whispers, and there are butterflies in her stomach even though this isn’t the first time they’ve said those words to each other.

She kisses his knuckles, and, like every time he’s said it, she says it back.

“I love you too.”

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