Jammy Indeed

Background color
Font
Font size
Line height

When she woke up it was already dark. Tina nuzzled the pillow nearest to her - mmm, such a fresh, citrus-y smell! - and gingery moved her hips. The pain was much less intense, she mostly felt stiff. And hungry! Blimey, she was famished! She carefully sat up and searched for her phone in the dark. The charger dock was empty.

She slowly slid off the bed and plodded downstairs. In the middle of the stairs her nose started twitching. It smelled amazing: spicy, and flavourful, and sweet! The aroma profile was unfamiliar, and Tina tiptoed to the kitchen.

Holyoake stood his back to her, frying something on the stove. Tina's mouth watered - and not just from the delicious smell of the cooking meat. Talk about umami! His dark denim sat low on his hips, and the soft long sleeved shirt accentuated the muscles on the back. Bad, bad, Tina! Stop drooling over this picture! Think about it like those Dandan noodles you saw in the restaurant in Abernathy: it looked divine but since you can't handle spicy food, you'd probably... die afterwards. John Human Equivalent of Dandan Holyoake.

"What're you making?" she asked, craning her neck.

Oh wow, it works the other way around too! He jumped up so hard that the tongs flew out of his hand and onto the floor. Tina squeaked and pressed her hand to her chest. He'd also banged his knee into the oven door, and was now rubbing it, cringing.

"Blimey, I thought you were asleep." He turned around. "How are you feeling?"

"Hungry," she said and sat down at the table. "What's that?"

"Harissa lamb chops," he said. "It's Moroccan. And I'm making vegetable couscous."

Tina rubbed her hands in anticipation and looked around the kitchen hoping for a snack. He chuckled, opened the fridge, and took out a bowl of hummus. He put it on a larger plate, which had already had thin triangles of pita arranged on it, and placed it in front of her.

"God, I love you," she uttered, dipped a slice in the hummus, and bit a generous piece. She looked up and met his eyes. "Isn't our lamb going to burn?" she asked, since he just stood there with a blank face.

"Ah, right," he muttered and turned back to the stove. "I reckoned you'd be hungry since you slept through lunch. It's almost six."

Tina chewed and hummed, hardly listening - and then she heard him!

"Six?" she croaked and quickly swallowed. "I was supposed to go for a walk with Edwin in the afternoon!"

"That explains a phone call at around three," he said nonchalantly, still facing the sizzling grilling pan.

"Where's my phone?" Tina exclaimed, jumped up, and then dropped back on the chair with a pained yelp.

Holyoake was near her in a split second.

"Stop jerking your poor hip," he muttered and squatted in front of her. He was so tall that their faces were level. "Shouldn't you go back to bed? I'll bring you dinner up."

"Where's my phone?" she asked suspiciously.

He emitted an exasperated sigh, got up, and walked out of the kitchen. Tina stretched her neck as much as she could to see the lamb.

"Here, I took it out of the bedroom when you fell asleep." Holyoake stretched his hand to her, and she grasped the phone.

"Thank you," she said.

He shrugged. "What're you thanking me for? It's yours."

Tina was already scrolling through her log. There wasn't much there to see: an email from some distant cousin in Ulster, a few spam messages - she tended to subscribe to all sorts of newsletters, from crystal therapy to 'find your perfect morning routine,' when she was feeling particularly low on self-love - and a missed call from Dr. Montjoy.

She looked up at Holyoake's back. He was taking the lamb chops off the pan and plating them on top of perfectly arranged mounds of couscous on two plates.

"For everything," she said, and his hand froze mid-air above a plate. "For cooking for me, and for taking care of me, and– and for carrying me around. And other things," she trailed away, and he slowly faced her. "You were right, you have always been nice to me. It's awfully decent of you. I couldn't have asked for a better isolation partner." She gave him a shy smile.

"You're welcome," he said quietly.

"Once I can move properly," she said earnestly, "I'll bake you something. It'll be me repaying you for all these delicious meals."

"You don't have to repay me," he said, "but, to think of it, there's something you can do for me."

"Sure, anything. What is it?" she asked eagerly.

He put down the serving fork, wiped his hands on the towel, threw it over his shoulder, and came up to her. Tina froze with a piece of pita in her hand. He leaned to her, one palm on the table, another one on the edge of her chair. Cerulean. His eyes are bloody cerulean! And she could see the long fluffy eyelashes, and the crow's feet. His lips parted softly.

Oh god. Oh god. OH. GOD.

"Jammy dodgers," he whispered.

Tina couldn't breathe.

"What?" she rasped out.

"Jammy dodgers." He smirked lopsidedly, and Tina released a shuddered breath. "I used to love them when I was a small boy," he said, "and there must be some nice recipe to make them even better. You can bake me artisan jammy dodgers."

He looked so bloody pleased with himself that it took Tina a second to suppress her first urge - to punch him in his wonderful high, tanned cheekbone - and then she grabbed the back of his head and pulled him in. The last thing she saw before their lips touched was the shocked expression in his eyes. What? Did he think he's the only one who can play this game?

She must have taken him properly by surprise because she managed to ruffle his hair and scratch his beard for a few seconds, while enjoying his lips, before he woke up and rushed into action. And now his hands were wandering her shoulders and her waist, and then he cupped her face with both his hands - and that's when she got the chance to fully appreciate the magic of John Holyoake's snogging.

Wow.

Wow.

Wow...

One thought - and it was hardly twitching either - that bounced in Tina's noggin, flooded with the roar of the blood in her ears, and the chant of 'more, more, more,' was that said magic couldn't have been purely a skill! One can learn to bake perfect brandy snaps. One couldn't learn to kiss like that! And then she wasn't thinking about anything anymore.

And then she moaned loudly, and he whispered, "Clemmie..." into the side of her neck, and she felt his warm breath tickle her throat.

She pressed her hand into his shoulder and pushed. He immediately froze, and Tina saw him frantically blink. Ah right. He was short-sighted - she'd seen the lenses and the accompanying products in her bathroom - and far-sighted, hence the reading glasses. Blimey, this helpless look was just adorable!

"I'm not moaning– I mean I am, but–" She squeezed her eyes trying to gather some thoughts. "It hurts. Because you're– bending me backwards. And the chair is– too hard."

For some reason, her mental internal monologue supplied her with a quote from Dara O'Briain's This Is the Show, "It's not the only thing that's too hard, get over here now, Mummy Bear."

"Sorry," he said coarsely, moving away from her.

Tina grabbed the collar of his shirt, stopping him. Interestingly enough, the second kiss with him felt just as new, and fresh, and exciting, as the first one. She thought this fascinating phenomenon needed investigating.

She slid her left hand on the back of his neck and smiled at him.

"Just keep me straight," she murmured and tenderly brushed her lips to his.

He moved closer and caught her bottom lip between his. And then his palm lay on her back - blimey, it's large enough to cover almost all of it! - and he supported her, while she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Maybe, it's–" he murmured, kissing her jaw, "the chair that's the problem. Maybe– you should go back to bed."

"Maybe we should," she said, and he moved back and gave her a suddenly sober, inquisitive look.

Oi! She didn't fancy this attitude.

"I'm worried for your back," he said.

Oh. That's what this look was. Alright then.

"It's the hip, but I get it. And thank you," she said and quickly kissed his lips. "Maybe I should go to bed, and you'll bring us dinner there?"

"Us?" he asked, and then she felt a fluttering kiss on her ear. Who'd have guessed it was a strategic location? But blimey, it worked.

"Well, we do sleep in it together," she said. "Might as well eat there together too."

"Alright then," he said - and then got up in a fluid movement holding her bridal style. Wow. "Off to bed you go then. And I'll fetch us our plates and join you."

You are reading the story above: TeenFic.Net