Chapter Text
Joan giggled as JFK kissed her neck. “Shh, stop!” she whispered. “They’re gonna hear us.”
JFK rolled his eyes, a smirk on his lips. “So let them hear us.”
“Jack!” She playfully whispered. She gently pushed him back which did little in actually creating any space between them.
The two were pressed against each other, standing in the small janitor’s closet that was next to the women’s bathroom. “Look, this is fun, but I need to get to English.”
“One more smooch?” He closed his eyes and puckered his lips. She rolled her eyes at his request before stepping out of the closet. She looked both directions as she fixed her hair. After a few minutes had passed and he was sure she had walked off, JFK slowly exited the closet as well.
Joan felt her palms sweat as she held the lunch tray. It was the Monday after Joan had slept with JFK at the prom. She hadn’t seen either JFK nor Abe all day. Joan worried that JFK had talked about what they did — that he had said something to someone about their sleeping together — and that it had spread.
Abe and JFK didn’t exactly see eye to eye. JFK was fine, or at the very least neutral, about Lincoln. Abe on the other hand? He despised Kennedy. She didn’t know if it was residual jealousy from being Cleo’s ex or general distaste of him as a person, but she knew that he didn’t like him.
“Joan!” Abe’s voice called her from across the cafeteria. Her back tensed.
Did he know? Had he heard about what they did at prom? Did he know about her betrayal?
“Joan, where were you at prom? I couldn’t find you.” Abe gave her a big hug. The heavy feeling in her chest lightened a bit. “Cleo and I finally had…” He looked both sides before continuing his sentence. “S-E-X.” He whispered this enthusiastically.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh.” That was also she could muster. He did not sense her irritation. “You would not believe what it was like.” So he really didn’t know.
He began to go into detail about his night, placing more emphasis on his personal emotional journey than the actual sexual experience. She tuned this out. Her worries about Abe had let up for now as he was clearly unaware. As they walked to their table, her eyes scanned the room, looking for JFK. Maybe Abe doesn’t know right now, but it’s possible that word could spread at any moment. She needed to make sure that didn’t happen.
Joan stayed late in school after class. She waited outside the boys’ locker room. Basketball practice had just finished and the team had hit the showers. The sun had set by now. Most of the lights in the halls and around the school had been off, save for the few lights illuminating paths to be used by the remaining students and staff. Joan leaned on one of the lockers next to the locker room’s door, taking refuge in the shadows to hide from plain sight.
She waited as swarms of guys left and headed out the school. The whiff of his familiar cologne set off alarm bells before the door had opened. As he exited the locker room, she grabbed his hand and pulled him into the shadows.
The sudden force dragging him into the darkness was enough to set off his self-defense reflexes. He raised his fists, ready to take on a fight, before he recognized the small hand that rested on his arm.
“We need to talk.” Her whisper sent a wave of cool water through his chest.
“Jo-?” Before he could get her name out of his mouth, she cut him off with a hush. “Joan?” He asked again in a whisper.
“Did you talk about us? In there?” Her eyes glanced towards the locker room’s door before going back to him.
“I, er uh, don’t know what you’re talking about.” He feigned ignorance. Badly.
She smacked his shoulder and he flinched at the pain. He rested a hand on his upper arm, soothing the part she struck. “Don’t play dumb with me, Kennedy. I’ve been in the boys’ locker room. I know what you talk about in there.” She glared at him.
“Listen, ‘Of Arc’,” he began, placing a mocking tone on her last name. “I uh can’t promise what does and, uh, doesn’t get said in the boys’ locker room.” He raised his hands as if in surrender. “If I don’t say anything, I might as well be a traitor to my own gender!”
She looked at him. The lines on his face from his slight smirk. His careless and even smug attitude. God, he really was trash. She hated him.
She grabbed him by his color and slammed him against the lockers. “Listen here, asshole.” She stared at him, his face only inches from hers. “If you say anything, I will break all your teeth, and I will know if you say anything. I promise you, I’ll break your face so hard no girl is ever even going to want to look your way.”
He rolled his eyes in an attempt to hide the very real fear he was feeling in that moment. He held his hands up in a surrender again. “Alright,” he threw in a nervous chuckle. “Not like I uh don’t get enough tail as it is,” he muttered under his breath.
She let go of him. “You’re disgusting.”
He raised a brow. “If uh I’m disgusting, what does that make you? For uh… sleeping with me?”
She glared at him as he looked at her with an arrogant smirk. Her next action was one that could only be described as a result of impulse. Maybe it was because a weekend’s worth of anxiety found itself culminating in adrenaline from the physical force she imposed on him just moments ago. Maybe it was because Abe’s comment earlier had left her feeling unattractive, and she now found herself with a desperate desire to be wanted. Or maybe it was simply because his face was too close to hers for too long.
Either way, she found herself in his arms, pushing her lips onto his. While initially in shock, he wrapped his arms around her lower back and the two backed into the now empty boys’ locker room.
It had been a month since the two clones had begun their “secret relationship” — or maybe it was closer to a secret 'friends-with-benefits' situation. It was unclear. They didn’t exactly discuss the terms, they just knew that whatever they had going on wasn’t exclusive or anything.
After the incident at prom where her feelings for Abe resulted in a major break down, Joan decided she couldn’t see herself ever being anyone’s girlfriend — and definitely not JFK’s girlfriend. Don’t get her wrong — she liked JFK, she really enjoyed spending time with him, but if she was being honest with herself, she was still using him to fill her constant need to feel pretty and wanted. He was closer to a guilty pleasure than he was an actual partner.
On JFK’s side, he didn’t mind the vague terms of their relationship, in fact he probably liked it better that way. He enjoyed sleeping with her as much as he enjoyed sleeping with any girl in their class; he didn’t want to be tied down. He didn’t really care that she wanted to keep it a secret — whatever gets him laid is fine by him.
Joan entered her English class, afraid her face was still red from her shenanigans with JFK a few minutes prior. She took her seat next to Abe as they waited for their teacher to arrive.
“Hey, Joan, what took you so long?”
She blew a stray hair out of her face. “Oh, you know, had to make a quick stop by the lady’s room.”
She was over Abe. Well, as “over” as one can be after a weekend. She didn’t want to be with Abe, she knew that to be true. He wasn’t a right fit for her; she couldn’t be with someone who made her feel so awful about herself. But feelings are complicated and they don’t go away over night. They'd known each other for so long. He wasn't a totally awful person, and she still treasured their friendship. She knew that if he found out about her and JFK, that friendship would be lost.
So, in short, was she holding onto a friendship she knew was probably doing more harm than good? Yes. Did she have any plans on ending this friendship any time soon? Definitely not. But she didn’t want to think about either of those facts at the moment.
“So, what was that thing you were saying earlier?” Joan asked, trying to steer the conversation away from herself.
“Oh yeah,” Abe continued. “Look what fell out of Cleo’s locker!”
Of course, Cleo again. She suppressed her urge to roll her eyes. She didn’t know why she was surprised. Cleo was all he could talk about since prom. From his pocket, he pulled out a small pink card and shoved it in Joan’s face.
“Uh huh.” She did little to hide her disinterest. “And that is?”
He flipped it open for her. Inside was a short cheesy poem that compared Cleo’s eyes to the moon.
“And there were dozens of these! They just keep falling out of Cleo’s locker every time she opened it.” His voice was laced with so much excitement and joy, it was as if they’d been for him.
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“Bother me?” He chuckled. “All those schmucks think they have a chance with Cleo — MY CLEO.” She wanted to groan and roll her eyes at his pride. “It’s hilarious. Just makes me feel all the more proud to have her as my girlfriend.”
She scoffed. She felt like her eyes were going to roll all the way behind her skull. A bulb lit in her head and she smirked, wanting to see if she could plant a seed of chaos in his brain. “Well, Abe, shouldn’t that worry you? That all those guys sending your girlfriend love letters don't even respect you or your relationship? They probably think they can get her from right under your nose!”
Abe chuckled. “Oh Joan… Joan, Joan, Joan,” She hated when he did that — when he talked down to her like she was a dumb kid. It was demeaning. “Secret admirers are secret admirers precisely because they know they don’t stand a chance. They can’t bare to show their names because it’s just too embarrassing.” He chuckled again, summoning a bitter frown to her face. “Oh Joan, I guess I can’t expect you of all people to understand that.” She opened her mouth to argue, to bite back, to get another chance at seeding chaos and doubt into his mind, but Mr. Sheepman had just walked through the door.
She pursed her lips, fuming at his comment.
JFK stared down at his feet as he kicked a few pebbles on the soil. He was leaning on a tree a few feet from the school’s entrance. He stared at Joan’s text on his phone. She asked him if he was free after class and he sent a winky face. He cringed a bit at his own texting before stuffing his phone back in his pocket. He continued to fidget with his feet as he waited for time to pass. He kicked a few more pebbles before the bell rang. Students began to flood out of the halls.
He glanced at the school from behind the tree for a quick second before pulling out the small hand held mirror that he had bought recently. He checked his teeth and fluffed his hair, suddenly feeling conscious of his appearance. He took another peek at the school’s entrance from behind the tree and was shocked to see Joan only steps away from him. He hid the mirror in a brief panic and shot her a confident smile.
“Hey there, little red, lost in the woods?”
She looked at him with a judgmental brow raised. “Little red?” His smile didn’t fade and she rolled her eyes. She looked behind her and in both directions before she grabbed his hand and kissed him on the cheek. “Now come on, before someone sees.” His confident smile faltered, briefly, before she literally pulled him out of his thoughts and dragged him away.
This was routine for them at this point. On the days they would decide to meet up — usually decided by Joan — JFK would make it out of class early and wait for her from a small distance away from the school. Afterwards, they’d walk together to his house. Today, she’d been walking at an unusually fast pace. JFK sensed the tension that lay in the silence as they walked.
“So, uh, something happen today, or are you just missing me?” He asked in an attempt to lighten to mood.
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” She replied curtly.
They got to his place and he followed her as she ran up the stairs. She stormed into his room and he followed suit. He closed the door and as he turned to face her — to ask her about her strange behavior — she kissed him. She pulled away to pull him from the door and push him towards his bed until he was sat. He opened his mouth to say something but she sat on his lap and kissed him, biting and licking his lips, until he melted into the kiss and wrapped his arms around her. She pushed him down onto the bed.
The room was silent save for their heavy breathing. Their faces were red and hot from exhaustion and relief. JFK’s arms were folded so that his head rested on his hands. Joan was next to him, leaving a space in between their bodies. The two lay there, next to each other, in silence for a few minutes until their breathing began to slow.
“You uh… good?” He asked, pausing in the middle of his sentence to catch a breath.
“Yeah, much better, thanks,” she replied casually. Her mood had seemed to lighten significantly since their last conversation. She almost sounded perky.
“So uh… something happen today?” He asked. He wasn’t complaining, by any means, but he was curious what had gotten her so aggressively in the mood.
She groaned, looking at the ceiling. “It’s this dumb thing Abe said.”
Ah, Abe. He was not an uncommon reason. “You still hang with that bonehead?”
She grabbed the pillow she’d been lying on and smacked him in the face before returning it to its proper place underneath her head. “Hey, watch it. He’s still my friend, even if he says bonehead shit sometimes.”
JFK rolled his eyes. “Fine. What’d he say that piss you off so much?”
“You don’t wanna hear it. It’s dumb.”
“You sure? ‘Cause I’m not gonna ask again, so if you wanna get it out of your system, now’s your chance.”
She bit her lip and thought about it. She turned to face him. “You think I’m pretty, right?” There was a pause as she remembered the fact that they were both currently in bed together, naked. “Actually, never mind, that was a stupid question.”
He raised a brow. She got off his bed, beginning to gather her clothes that had been left on the floor. “I should probably go soon, I have this dumb English paper I need to write.”
He nodded. “Hey uh… your birthday’s comin’ up soon, isn’t it? Wanna… do something fun?”
She stopped mid-action and faced him, placing her hands on her hips. “My, my, my Kennedy… are you asking me if I want birthday sex?” She teased.
He raised his hands in a surrender — an action he realized he’d been doing more often now. “Well, I’m not opposed to the idea.” She rolled her eyes as he chuckled. “But I mean a party. I sure hope we’re friends enough for you to be inviting me. To your party, that is.”
She turned back around to continue gathering her clothes. “I don’t want a party.” She threw his shirt at him.
He caught it before looking at her with a confused expression. “What? Why?”
“The whole thing just feels so conceited,” she started, beginning to get dressed. “Hosting a bunch of guests to celebrate me? Plus, it’s exhausting. I wanna be having fun on my birthday, doing something I wanna do. I don’t wanna be attending to a bunch of different people making sure they’re having fun.
JFK disagreed — he loved throwing parties; he loved going around, talking to everyone, handing out drinks and food — but he didn’t try to make sense of it and just accepted Joan's weird logic.
“Okay, so no party. But you don’t have anything planned, at all?”
She sighed as she finished lacing her boots. “I didn’t realize you were so invested.”
“I just find it kinda sad—”
She placed her laced feet down on the ground before turning to him. “Listen, how about this: I’ll do what I want on my birthday and you don’t question it. Cool? Cool.” She did not want his pity nor did she want to have to explain anything to him. “I’ll see you at school.” She gave a short wave before leaving the room.
He lay in bed, his shirt in hand, as he heard her walk down the stairs and greet his parents with a goodbye.
JFK chuckled before taking another bite out of his cafeteria meatloaf. He was currently sitting in the lunch room, listening to Julius Caesar tell their table a story about a date he went on while his foster parents were out of town.
“So this girl—“ He wrapped his arm around Catherine the Great who had been sitting next to him, giving her a brief affectionate squeeze. “—the moment her eyes set on my mother’s Valentino white bag, she decides she has to use it.”
JFK silently nods. His eyes wander the cafeteria as he listens in and continues to eat his food. “Now my mother loves this bag…”
JFK’s eyes set on a familiar goth across the room. She was sat at a table near the trash cans, with her only companion being Gandhi. JFK’s thoughts began to drown out Caesar’s voice that had begun to drone off into the background.
He looked at her. God, she looked… kind of pathetic. She sat there with an annoyed look. Or maybe it was neutral to her, maybe that’s just what her face looked like. Either way, she sat there passively listening to something her energetic friend seemed to be explaining. A joke, probably. Or maybe a scheme.
He thought about the contrast between his table and hers. How he was surrounded by people who were laughing. How they sat in the brightest part of the cafeteria. How she sat next to the bussing area and the trash bins. He loved hanging out with her and sleeping with her but she was a loser. He always knew she was kind of a loser — well, look at who she hangs with — but it hadn’t been so apparent to him than it had been at that very moment. She was kind of a loser. With sad friends. Who sit at sad tables. How did people like that live their lives? JFK didn’t often find himself feeling bad for people who weren’t in his immediate vicinity, but in a weird way they were sorta friends now. It was weird having a friend who was from such a different world from him.
“And her lipstick totally exploded!” His table erupted with laughter, pulling him out of his thoughts. “So there we were, Catherine the Great’s lipstick all over my mom’s Valentino white bag. It was a disaster. This was the bag my father had gotten my mom for her birthday.” Caesar’s voice faded again into the background, out of JFK’s attention.
Birthday. He remembered what Joan had said about not wanting to celebrate her birthday. He scratched his ear, looking at her irritated expression from across the room. She was such a sad person. She had absolutely nothing planned for her birthday? At this point, JFK started wondering if she had anything happy in her life at all.
He pursed his lips and decided, in that moment, he had to get her something for her birthday.