hold me really tight (until the stars look big) - I

'We don't know him,' Mica says. 'But you know us. Do we look like we'd let anyone harm you?'

Jael slowly shakes her head. "No..." She can't help but stare back at Tate again and think about her lips on his. No, he'd never let anyone harm her. Not once while she stayed here he hurt her. Mentally maybe (definitely). But never on purpose.

Tate holds Mica's hand, tightly, and she squeezes. 'You're going to be fine,' he says. 'He's not coming anywhere near you.'

Jael smiles a little, finally relaxing a little bit. "I'm—I'm sorry for what I said outside," she then says, a bit hesitantly, but then falls silent, not knowing how to continue.

Tate shrugs. 'It's alright.'

Jael nods and then stands, smoothing her clothes and smiling awkwardly. "I'll go take a bath now..." She's out of the living room within moments.

Mica looks at Tate cautiously. 'You okay?'
He nods. 'I will be.'

~ Next Friday: 9 AM ~

Jael is dozing off to sleep again while Tate is doing his business in the bathroom. She's waiting until he's done and the bathroom is available, but now she'd rather sleep the whole day.
In the past week she started to question her sanity more and more as she grew more attached and attracted to Tate Hale. He'd shown sides that still surprised her, and since a really, really long time she felt safe and secure in the presence of a guy.
But he kidnapped her. He killed Tina and he held and probably still is holding her hostage. Isn't it crazy Stockholm syndrome…? And if it is, is what she's feeling still true?
'Ugh,' she groans and buries her face in Tate's pillow.

Jael's tattoo, but then enlarged and covering the scar entirely.

Tate looks at himself in the mirror. While Jael questions her sanity in the bed, Tate questions his in the bathroom. It's been a while since the kiss. It's been a while since Mica last smiled. It's been a while since he's slept through a full night. He towels his hair dry, wraps it around his waist and opens the door.

Jael looks up when she hears the sound and smiles, her hair messy and her face still sleepy. "Good morning," she murmurs and then stretches herself like she hasn't in months.
She's still sleeping in Tate's shirt, even though he suggested she should wear warmer pj's. It's crept up a bit, bare skin showing.

Tate knows he should look away, honestly. But he doesn't. 'Get out of bed,' he mumbles, eyes fixed on the stroke of skin between her panties and his shirt. 'We need to leave in an hour. I'll wake Mica.'

Jael yawns and stretches again, then sees his eyes focussed on her lower back and immediately her cheeks turn bright red. She sits up straight, fully awake now. "Yeah..." She wants to tell him that she'd rather stay at home instead of meeting Denny, that she doesn't care about Denny but that she does care about him.
She doesn't move off the bed, just sits there legs crossed staring at him and his absurdly good-looking torso.

Tate smiles, cockily, knowing exactly what she's looking at, and winks when he walks out of the room. 'One hour!' he yells when he's in the hallway.

Jael throws the pillow against the door. "You stupid asshole!" she yells back, figuring he knows exactly what was happening.

'Doesn't make you any less attracted to me!' Tate tells her loudly as he walks into Mica's room. She's sitting upright, eyebrows raised.
'You two are disgusting,' she notes.
He rolls his eyes. 'Come, we're going to see this Denny guy, and then we're going for ice cream.'
'I thought we were going to some warm hot island soon,' she points out. 'Where did that idea go?'
Tate thinks about Mica Island, and the things that need to be done before they can go. 'Two months. Three tops. Can you sit that out?'
'I'm not getting any thinner, you know. There's a point where I can't go outside anymore.'
He rolls his eyes, again. 'Get dressed. You look pretty.'

Jael gets out after dressing herself carefully. The blue sweater emphasizes her dark eyes perfectly, making them a little bit bigger.
No one is in the kitchen yet. She decides to make breakfast, even though she's so nervous she probably won't be able to eat a thing.

Mica bullies Tate into wearing the maroon sweater with thumbholes she got him for Christmas, because it "makes him look less murderous". The joke is less funny now he's actually murdered someone, but that doesn't make Mica isn't going to make it. He likes that, the way she doesn't treat him any different. He walks into the kitchen. Jael is making something. 'What's for breakfast?' he asks.

THE THUMBHOLE SWEATER YES

Jael turns to him. "I was thinking about waffles or pancakes." She gives him a genuine smile. "Want to help me?" Her smile turns into a teasing one when she thinks back at the last evening in Tate's house, the first time she felt really at ease with him. "It's nothing like cutting chicken, I promise."

Tate scoffs, then smiles apologetically. 'Sorry, but Mica has banned me from any activities in the kitchen that are different from pouring drinks.' He shrugs.
Mica nods when she comes in. 'That's true. I do not need a fire.'

Jael laughs a little and gives Tate a look. 'Did you cause a fire? How did you manage that first egg, I wonder? It was almost flawless.' She smiles and turns to wash her hands, so she can start making pancake batter.

'It was one time!' Tate groans, turning to Jael. 'One time I accidentally burn the fish, yeah? One time!'

Jael can't help but laugh again. "And I guess you never tried again...?" She cracks the eggs and starts mixing the whole bunch together until it's a sticky mess.

Tate shakes his head. 'I was not allowed to try again.'

Jael takes a frying pan out of the cabinet. "I can teach you. Cooking is my passion. Unless Mica absolutely doesn't want me to try." She grins.

Tate groans. 'I'm completely fine with having Mica cook for me for the rest of my life. Also, my mother is teaching Vicki her secret recipes, so I'll probably get her cooking for me soon too. I'm settled.'

Jael smiles a little. Her eyes wander off as she gets lost in thoughts. Silently and absentmindedly she puts the mixture in the heated frying pan to make the first pancake.
She's painfully reminded that she probably won't play a big part in Tate's life. It's only temporarely... and maybe that's for the best too.

Mica is ready faster than Tate thought was possible. 'I'm just going to get gas, I guess?' she says, slowly. 'And then maybe drive around a bit. I just need to get out.'
Tate nods, understandingly, kisses her cheek and squeezes her shoulder, turns away as the door closes and sighs. 'She didn't eat breakfast, did she?'

Jael shakes her head. "No, she didn't..." She puts the very thick pancake on a plate. "She's not okay, is she...?" She gives Tate this tentative smile she always has when she's not sure she can talk about it with either one of them.

Tate shrugs, puts too much syrup on his pancake. 'No, she's not. She acts—she acts like it doesn't affect her, what Vinnie did, but the truth is, she's pregnant, and financially unstable if it wasn't for me, and—and she's having twins, okay, twins and what she thought was the love of her life left her with those kids, and—she's confused, and hurt, and she thinks she's not good enough. She blames herself for Vinnie's absence.' He stares at his food, not really hungry anymore.

Jael shakes her head a little. "I wish I could do something for her... It's so hard to see someone struggle and not being able to help them." She smiles sadly. "Mica's such an amazing person. So vibrant and lively. She doesn't deserve this at all." She lets the next pancake slide on her own plate, but doesn't move after that, just stares down at the syrup bottle.

Tate shrugs. 'A lot of people get things they don't deserve. Macy... Macy was good. She was light, and vibrant, and she often went with me to volunteer in Kenya and Ethiopia. She... she had a boyfriend, Neil.. They were in the middle of adopting these two kids from a Kenyan orphanage.' He closes his eyes, breathes. 'Neil didn't go through with it, after she died.'

Jael doesn't realize the tears until her vision gets blurry. "I'm so sorry, Tate..." she says, but then she falls silent. She has no words. What could she possibly say...?
She smiles a little and steps forward, slips her arms around him and presses herself against him.

Tate doesn't tell her anything else. Doesn't say how he's thinking about adopting the kids himself, about how they are siblings, a sister with her little brother, and how the way the girl protects that kid with her own life reminds him of the way he wanted to protect Macy. He hugs her back, and acts like she isn't crying, and acts like he isn't close to.

Jael buries her face in his shirt, inhaling his scent deeply until it makes her feel dizzy and foggy. "I wish I could help you," she whispers against his chest. "It's so stupid. I want to help everyone even though I can't help myself..." She closes her eyes, fights the tears. "You're a good person, Tate."

Tate shrugs. 'So are you.'

Jael looks up, finding his eyes. She's still clutching his sweater, she's still crying. She's a mess, a confused, fucked up mess.
She stands on the tip of her toes and kisses him.

Tate kisses back: hard, passionate, needy. He can't breathe, can't do anything but press into the curve of her body and kiss her back.

Tate's touches are painful, but it's a good pain. Pain Jael needs, wants to feel, to make sure that whatever is happening is very real. His heart is beating fast under her hands on his chest, just like hers, and she's melting into him as if he's the last life source on earth.
She loves Tate Hale. She doesn't need Kyle or Denny or any other, she loves Tate and it's real and true, nothing like the lies she told herself before. She loves Tate and it hits her like a lightning bolt. She moans against his lips.

Tate doesn't do romance, or love, or relationships or kissing without an ulterior motive, like sex, or a number, or both. Tate doesn't do this. And yet he is. And it feels good.

Jael feels like she's crumbling. Her hands wander over Tate's chest, feeling his muscles, his heartbeat, his breathing. She slides them to his back to press herself against him again, kissing him like it's the last kiss she'll ever share with him.

Tate keeps kissing her, his hand heavy on her hip, fingers just beneath the fabric of her shirt.

Jael is still standing on her toes, eventually lets him go a little to catch her breath, her lips still slightly against his. Her heart is beating fast and heavily, and she kisses him again, passionate, tender, soft.

Tate kisses her once, twice, before moving his lips to her neck, leaving a trail of butterfly kisses on the skin of her throat.

Jael heaves a sigh, pulling her head back to give him the space he needs. Her eyes are closed, her lips curled in a smile that clearly shows she feels like she's in heaven. 'Mmh…' she moans, barely audible. She's pushing her nails into his sweater while her breathing quickens.

Tate forgets about whatever she was making, pushes her up against the kitchen counter, hand hot on the small of her back beneath her shirt. He's good.

Jael feels his touches burning in her skin. As he kisses her moans start being a little bit louder. She runs her one hand through his hair, her other in his neck. He's good alright. He's completely taking over her mind with his touches, making her dizzy and light in her head.

Tate pulls back, whispers: 'I think breakfast is burning.'

Jael opens her eyes again, still out of breath. She gives him a shy smile and turns, seeing a very charred pancake. 'Oh god…' She turns off the gas pit and grabs the handle of the frying pan and then gasps out of pain and lets the thing go immediately.

Tate opens eyes he didn't know he had closed and is by her side in a heartbeat. 'What happened?'

Jael turns on the cold water and fights her tears. 'It was too hot to touch,' she mutters. Her hand is red, stinging. Perfect timing, she thinks and she pulls a bitter face.