The Banks • OBX Oneshots

breakfast • jiara

Kiara opened her eyes. It was morning. Or perhaps afternoon. Neither of them were early risers. She turned to the man snoring softly beside her, bundled in the duvet. He even more so than her.

Gently, she eased herself out of the bed and slid into her slippers. With a yawn, she pushed open the creaky wooden door and trudged into the kitchen.

"Breakfast." She muttered to herself. The knobs for the hob took a shove to get working as usual, but once they were, she set a frying pan on top and got to work. He usually made the food because he argued this was his house until John B came back—she'd tease him that it was a shack not a house—so he would make the food. But seeing as he rarely came to her home for...political reasons, she had no choice but to go behind his back.

She slid the last of the bacon she'd brought (he didn't buy the best food, just affordable. So she brought it) into the pan. She would surprise him and give him breakfast, which he'd have to eat because she'd trap him in the bed until he did.

With a nod, she turned down the heat.

Something touched her. At first, she flinched, assuming she'd somehow managed to burn herself on the pan. But no. The fingertips were familiar, although they did burn like the pan would. Hands slid around her waist, clasping around her stomach as a weight rested on her back. JJ led his chin on her shoulder.

She raised an eyebrow, returning to breakfast.

"Hey?" She said, gauging whether he would kick her off breakfast duty. Or, brunch. She should've checked the time.
His voice was thick with sleep, barely more than a murmur but only just staving off a growl. "Mm?"

She glanced at the blonde hair on her shoulder, noting his closed eyes and content look. His weight told her he was still heavy with sleep, so she assumed herself safe.

"What are you doing up?" She asked. His head shifted on her shoulder, leaning into her neck.
"Who says I'm up?" He whispered.
"Me." She shook the pan as it sizzled. He huffed, breath blowing her hair.
"Me," she said, "I say you're up—"

The pressure release made her stop. He removed his head from her shoulder, forcing her to wonder if he was offended. He could get annoyed over small things—there was a reason he liked fire, she'd learnt.

Just as she was about to ask him, gentle touch pressed to her neck, just above her spine. She dropped the pan, its metal bottom clanging with the hob. Luckily, she'd barely picked it up. He stopped for a moment, resuming as soon as he knew John B's house wasn't burning down.

JJ's kisses trailed lazily from the tip of her spine to the back of her neck by her hair. His gentleness struck her strangely—he was rarely so tender. Slowly, a hand slipped from around her waist, pulling her hair back as his lips crept forward, drifting round to the side of her neck. She shuddered, leaning back into him slightly.

"JJ, I'm cooking." She said. He murmured a response, pressing a burning touch further down nearer to her collarbone. She gripped his hands as they returned to her stomach.
"Seriously, I'm working with dodgy gas and electric, it could become arson very easily. We have one criminal here already, do we need me to become one too?" She said. He pressed his knee to her thigh, lips parting from her with a quiet smack.
"Yes please." He whispered by her ear.
She blanked.

Ah.