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Early afternoon sunlight was coming in through the windows. Patches of sun-warmed floor were shining in elongated squares in the living room.
Rectangles. Elongated squares were just rectangles. Squares had all equal sides.
“Fuckin’ rectangles,” Gavin snorted, using a knife to spread mustard on another slice of bread.
From his vantage point standing at the kitchen counter, he could look across the counter and into the living room of his and his partner Hannah’s apartment. ‘Girlfriend’ felt like a weird term. They were adults, and they’d been together since…fuckin’ forever. They weren’t married, but still, ‘girlfriend’ felt like an adolescent term.
Semantics. Rectangles. Squares.
Jaeger, their short haired grey cat, was lounging in one of the patches of sunlight: lying on her side and spread out. The picture of luxurious comfort and relaxation, and Hell, they were due for some of that today. Gavin had slept in later than he normally would, and he had no plans to change out of his old cutoff t-shirt and sweatpants that he’d been wearing since he crawled out of bed. Today was a fuck off lazy day. That was the rule.
The rest of the apartment was equally quiet and calm. It was the fourth…third?...No, fourth apartment that they’d shared together, and they were still breaking this one in after a little over a year. They had never quite gotten the smoke smell out of their old furniture after the fire that burned their last apartment building. Their unit hadn’t been damaged by the fire, but the smell had still saturated everything. So along with a new apartment had come all new furniture, new clothes, new…pretty much everything.
It was a lot of new in their carefully crafted routine life, but he thought they were all adjusting pretty well. The plain beige walls were slowly being decorated with Hannah’s eclectic mix of art: both her own paintings and prints that she’d bought. They both liked dark wood furniture, so the coffee tables and end tables and entertainment center all matched the same dark shade of wood grain. The long couch and matching recliners had deep cushions and were olive green. White curtains and an orange-shaded lamp kept the place from feeling too dark.
It wasn’t extravagant, but it was the only place he wanted to come home to every day…and that was entirely because she was here.
He finished spreading mustard on another slice and glanced at the clock above the television. It was half past one in the afternoon. She’d told him not to let her wallow in bed past noon, but she’d still been sleeping so hard that he’d just left her for a while longer. But…orders were orders.
He smirked and continued making some simple turkey sandwiches for them both for a late lunch. He’d wake her up after he was done.
Jaeger lifted her head and stretched out all four legs laboriously. She opened her mouth in a wide yawn, then fixed him with a narrow look before reclining on the floor again.
Gavin scoffed and finished piling on all of Hannah’s favorite sandwich fixings before putting the top slice of bread on it.
“You got it really fuckin’ rough around here, don’t you?” he mouthed at the cat.
He got a lazy tail swish in response.
“Fuckin’ lazy ass,” he muttered affectionately, moving on to his sandwich next. “You don’t even have a job. You don’t pay rent. You’re just lucky you’re cute—”
The bedroom door on the opposite side of the living room cracked open, and Hannah’s bleary-eyed face poked out. Her face was still pinched with sleep…well, what part of her face was visible. She was swallowed up in her favorite green Kermit the Frog hoodie, with the hood pulled up over her head and the drawstrings pulled tight around the face hole, and a clashing pair of galaxy print purple leggings.
She shuffled out of the bedroom, wrapping her arms around herself and looking at Gavin with a blank expression. Social events like yesterday always really took it out of her. No matter how much fun they had, the energy needed to go out and be around crowds and new places took a toll on her, and she always had a ‘social hangover’ the next day. So they didn’t go out often, but when they did, the next day went like today: one of those times where SHE was the mess and HE was the one getting her through it. Fuck knew there had been plenty of times when the shoes were on the other feet there.
“Y’know your face looks like a butthole when you wear the hood like that,” he greeted dryly.
Hannah scoffed, shuffling into the living room and stepping carefully around Jaeger. She looked at Gavin with a sleepy frown, and then she puckered her lips dramatically at him.
“Well then kiss my ass,” she said, making a few kissy noises. She squatted down and lightly nudged her knuckles against Jaeger’s shoulders. “Told you to wake me up at noon.”
“Okay, grumpy butt, I was making you lunch,” Gavin scoffed, gesturing to the two perfect sandwiches on the plates in front of him. “Ungrateful!”
Hannah snickered and stood up again, still looking exhausted.
Gavin licked a bit of rogue mustard off the side of thumb as he looked at her. “All right?”
She hummed, nodding her head as she aimed toward the couch. While she sat down, Gavin finished putting away the sandwich fixings, picking up the plates and walking over to the living room.
He’d already set everything up: ready and prepared for when her zombie ass stumbled back into the land of the living today. The coffee table in front of the couch was cleared, and she had her pick of three jigsaw puzzles that he’d dug off the shelf. One was a snowy mountain landscape with the Northern Lights hanging over it. The second was a cabin nestled in the lush greenery of the deep woods. The third was a compilation of theatrical release posters for the three original Star Wars films.
The television was already queued up with a marathon of the latest show they’d been watching. “Ink Makeover” was a reality show surrounding the day-to-day work of some little tattoo parlor out in Arizona somewhere that did special ink work to correct people’s tattoos that were botched or faded or just bad. She preferred the episodes where the clients had regrettable tattoos that the artists revitalized into something new. He preferred the episodes with the clients who had scarring or birth marks or blemishes that they wanted to cover or beautify with ink.
Hannah had plopped into her customary spot, sinking back into the cushions with her legs crossed, already eying the television screen with a grin. Gavin took a boost from that, stepping around the couch and handing her one of the plates. She took it with a smile.
“Thanks,” she chirped. She surveyed the sandwich for a moment. “Pickles?”
“No, but there’re some in the fridge. We want pickles today?” he asked.
“I think we do,” she said. “Please.”
He gave her a salute and headed back to the kitchen. “Chips?”
“Doritos!”
“You got it.”
Returning to the kitchen, Gavin made quick work of pouring two glasses of lemonade from the pitcher in the fridge. He grabbed two mini bags of chips, holding the corners of the bags between his teeth as he carried the two glasses and the jar of pickle spears in his hands: determined to make it in one trip to the living room.
He was successful, stepping around the couch and handing Hannah one of the glasses. She took it and the jar of pickles, and he let the chip bags drop from his teeth to the seat beside her. He noted that she’d put the little yellow throw pillow on the cushion beside her. It was a subtle indication to give her some physical space for now, and he simply took the next seat over without mentioning it.
During social hangovers, Hannah was usually either starved for physical touch and affection or she was overly sensitive to it and did not want any contact at all. She would work her way back to a healthy equilibrium throughout the day, and he had developed a pretty good gauge over the years of how to read her. For now though, he just sat down with his own sandwich, chips, and drink. He plucked up the remote and looked over at her.
She nodded, and he hit Play.
“On this episode of INK MAKEOVER…”
One episode turned into two, turned into three, and as the credits were rolling after the third episode, the sandwiches and chips were long gone.
“This is making me want to get another tattoo,” Hannah said, stretching her arms over her head as she unfolded her legs for the first time in hours. She had finally loosened her hoodie and pushed it back, fluffing out her auburn hair which was still wild from sleep.
Gavin had slouched down in his seat, propped his feet on the coffee table and crossed his ankles. Jaeger had made herself comfortable in his lap, and he could feel her purring against his stomach. He reached up a hand and scratched his jaw.
“Yeah? Of what?”
Hannah shrugged, and she climbed out of the couch to her feet, completing the full body stretch.
“I dunno.” She ran a hand down one arm. “It’s been a while since I got this sleeve done. I might start adding over here,” she said, gesturing to her other arm. “Maybe a…Oh, you know what? I haven’t gotten Julia’s name yet.”
Her hands subconsciously pointed to the spots below her collar bone and on her arm, where she had Gavin and Jaeger’s names tattooed respectively. He grinned at her, shifting slightly and apologizing to Jaeger when the movement disrupted Her Highness.
“Yeah, gotta add the newbie to the family tree,” he snorted, gesturing to her.
Hannah pouted and picked up their plates, taking them back into the kitchen behind the couch. “My body is not a tree.”
“You’re like a…really sexy oak tree.”
Her laughter at that was light and easy, and he rolled with it, sitting up some more and swinging his legs down to the floor. Jaeger meowed unhappily at him, curling her claws through his t-shirt and into his skin slightly as she got up and left him in a huff. Gavin just let her go, stretching himself now as he twisted around to watch Hannah in the kitchen.
“Did you have fun yesterday?”
Hannah plucked up two candy bars from the snack basket on the counter, winking at him as she walked back to the couch.
“I did,” she said happily, plopping down on the couch again. “Y’know, now that Julia and Connor are married…Connor is technically part of the tree now too.”
Gavin cringed and then groaned dramatically, sinking into the couch cushions. “Fuuuck.”
Hannah cackled, perching forward in her seat and pressing pause on the remote. “So I’ve gotta find a spot for two new names. Do I put their names together or in separate places?”
“Ugh,” he went on. “Put Julia’s name anywhere, but if you HAVE to get Connor’s…just…put it somewhere I’m not gonna see it.”
Hannah paused, pouting her lips and lifting her eyebrows at him. “Where exactly would that be? You see every inch of me like…every day.”
Gavin gave her a canine grin and shrugged, giving her figure a onceover before pointing at the back of his own neck. “Maybe, like, just shave a little bit of your hair and put the name there. Then let your hair grow back, so it’s covered up.”
Hannah laughed. “That is—I am not doing that. I could be mean and put it here.” She pointed at her other collar bone.
“No! Absolutely not! I don’t want Connor near your breasts!”
Hannah howled with laughter at that, clapping her hands together. Gavin chuckled at her despite himself, and despite being adamant about what he’d just said.
“I’m serious!” he laughed midway through the sentence. “Put him on your foot or the back of your knee or something. He doesn’t get prime real estate!”
“But Julia could?”
“Sure, whatever, I don’t care. But I draw the line at Connor.”
“Ooh, ooh, what if, what if,” she babbled, visibly entering Troll Mode at this point. “I just got Connor’s face tattooed over my face? Would you still love me?”
Gavin gave her a severely disappointed look. “…Yes, I would still love you…but we would never have sex again.”
Hannah laughed and ran a hand through her hair. “Okay, okay…I think I should keep their names together anyway. That might be a good way to start this other arm.” She took a drink from her lemonade and glanced at him. “What about you?”
Hannah had more tattoos than Gavin could count…but he liked counting them anyway. That was a fun game. He himself only had a few, and only two had any meaning. He didn’t get individual names: too risky in his career, he thought. Instead, he just had minimalistic images that reminded him of those people. He had a simple, cartoonish UFO that he’d gotten on his forearm when he turned 18 just because he could. His grandmother had discovered it and thought it was hilarious. She had also promised not to tell his parents, who would have lost their collective shit about it. He had ended up going back and adding two “antennae” to the UFO, but really they were supposed to represent Grandma’s knitting needles: to loop her into the fun. The UFO’s outline had faded with time, but the knitting needles were still very prominent.
The only other meaningful tattoo that he had was for Hannah. He had a couple of tattoos for Hannah, but the one that was really hers was a basic geometric cube, not filled in or anything, just the lines. It was a shape that she doodled on her notebooks, and that tattoo had been a trace of one of those doodles. So it was imperfect, but it was in her own hand. And maybe when he was feeling romantic and shit, he’d think that a cube was actually perfect because of the whole…four walls, a floor, and a roof was all they needed to make a home. Or, uh, how her anxiety and agoraphobia didn’t trap her, that instead she had to think ‘outside the box’ to keep from feeling isolated from the world.
Eh, he didn’t know. He wasn’t into that deep shit.
But going back to Hannah’s question, he shrugged.
“I was thinking. I mean it’s ‘Jules,’ so…maybe a little geometric diamond shape. Jules…Jewel. Eh?” He clucked his tongue and winked.
Hannah snorted and shook her head. “Okay, but just…keep her away from YOUR breasts. Those belong to me, buster.”
Gavin scoffed in mock offense, folding his hands over his chest dramatically. “How dare you! I am not your property!”
Hannah leaned into it, winking devilishly. “You’re MINE, Reed,” she added possessively.
Dammit, that wasn’t fair. She knew how that shit worked on him. And her tone was staying playful and flirtatious, not heading into bedroom territory. She was still recovering from yesterday, not trying to rev things up right now, so he wouldn’t push it.
“Hey, don’t write that check if you’re not gonna cash it, woman. Damn,” he snarked at her.
“Sorry,” she chirped, not sounding apologetic at all, sitting forward and nudging one of the puzzle boxes. “You up for…mountains?”
She picked up the box, waggling her eyebrows as she wiggled the box. They both heard the sound of the little cardboard pieces shuffling around inside. He removed the other two puzzle boxes from the coffee table and set them on the floor. He took the remaining box from her and opened it.
“Mountains it is,” he said, promptly pouring all the puzzle pieces across the coffee table surface.
Hannah made a contented noise, scooping up the yellow throw pillow and scooting over closer to him. She tossed the pillow on her other side, and she flashed him a smile as she started spreading out the pile of pieces.
There’s my girl, he thought fondly as she un-paused the television. The credits finished rolling, and the next episode began to queue up.
“Found a corner,” she said, holding up a piece.
“Of fucking course you did,” he grumbled, setting about flipping all the pieces so they were facing up. “You have some fucking sorcery, being able to find the edges and corners so fast every time…”
“I just have sharper eyes than you,” she teased, scouring the spreading pile of pieces.
“I am a sergeant working homicide cases. My eyes are fucking sharp, you jerkass.”
“Yeah, but mine…are…” she drawled, plucking up another piece. “Sharper. Found another one. No wait, there’s another one.” She snatched up a third piece.
“How do you do that?!”
She giggled, knocking her shoulder against his, and it was the final bridge of the gap. She was bouncing back quick today. He relaxed further at the thought and nudged her in return.
“On this episode of INK MAKEOVER…”
“Quick, guess. Who needs their ink fixed?” Gavin fired off.
“Oh! Woman getting a divorce and wants her dirtbag ex’s name removed! Go!” She pointed at him.
“Woman has surgical scars on her arm that she wants turned into a star constellation!”
“That is a very specific episode!”
“Yeah, and we haven’t seen it on this marathon yet. I like my odds!”
The client, a middle aged woman, appeared on screen, and they were both immediately proven wrong.
“Ten years ago, I survived a mugging that nearly killed me. I got away, but my attacker managed to leave me with a stab wound scar that I have to look at every day.” She tugged the collar of her shirt to reveal a gnarly scar snaking along where her neck met her shoulder. “I’m hoping Troy and Jenny can help me turn this ugly reminder into an empowering memory.”
“Daaaaamn,” Hannah hissed. “This is gonna be a good one, dude.”
“New bet,” Gavin immediately pivoted. “What do they cover that scar with? I’m going with something astronomy or star-related.”
“I’m leaning floral…Found the fourth corner.”
“HOW? FUCKING HOW?!”
“Behold!” Hannah crooned, dramatically setting down all four corners at the respective edges of the coffee table around the pile of puzzle mess. “A square!”
He applauded her in a lackluster fashion, and she did a little bow in her seat before giggling and joining him in flipping over the rest of the pieces.
“It’s actually a rectangle,” he corrected.
“Huh?”
“It’s a rectangle.” He gestured. “Squares have all four sides equal. Rectangles have two sets of matching sides. This one is wider than it is tall…Rectangle.”
Hannah followed his pointing, then slowly inhaled and puffed out her chest as she looked at him in mock exasperation. “Now, I know for a fact that you barely passed Geometry. So don’t you try to correct me—”
“No, YOU barely passed,” he pointed out. “I barely passed only because I was cheating off you!”
“Boy, if you don’t stop talking shit…” she grumbled playfully, while he smugly grinned. “Fuck outta here with your rectangles…”