"There's no way that it's not going there."
Whose to say moving across the country for a job and a best friend is a stupid decision? Oh, right, everyone she knew back home.
But where he was, that just had to be home. She just wasn't sure if she'd e...
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˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
The sound of a pager went off, and Blair was rudely awoken from her slumber. Not that she was sleepy well anyways, from her spot on the floor of Jackson's bedroom in Meredith's Sorority House. She grumbled a bit, her eyes squeezing tighter as she remained in the place between R.E.M sleep dreams and reality.
"Blair," he whispered quiet loudly, and she opened her eyes just a bit, not that she could see him much without her glasses or contacts on.
"Please stop feeding our kids sandwiches with raw eggs on top," she grumbled, her eyes still closed as she pulled her pillow closer to herself. "Cathy says she doesn't like it, and it's just really weird Jacks."
Jackson looked down at her, trying to double check that she was still asleep. If she hadn't talked in her sleep before, he would be weirded out, but he was more amused.
"Who's Cathy?" he asked anyways, wanting to see if she would elaborate.
"Just please, don't," she said, and she turned to the other side, facing the wall now.
"Wait," Jackson said, his eyebrows furrowing as he processed what she had just said. "Is this our kids, or like my kid and your kid are just hanging out, and I'm feeding them both raw eggs."
"No," she said with a small whine. "No more raw eggs."
Well, he knew he definitely wasn't going to be getting any real answers to his question. His pager went off again. "Blair," he said a little louder. "I'm gonna head to the hospital now."
"Thank, God," she replied.
"Yeah, okay," he shrugged off her response, leaving the room slowly to make sure he made no noises with the door, heading straight to the bathroom.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
There were shades of brown, so dull and boring, as Jackson would say, everywhere. It was on the wooden walls, the fireplace, the vintage picture frames with very serious photos of dogs, it was the color of the mugs Declan was carrying as he walked into his living room, there was brown on the patterns of his sweater.
Jackson would have a fit with that much brown, like he did about her office. Before he moved out of his apartment, he gave her several knick knacks to place in there, "liven the place up."
"Is that an ugly Christmas sweater in the middle of June?" Blair asked, quirking an eyebrow up at with judgement and a twinge of disgust. Her eyes shifted to the mugs, seeing marshmallows and whipped cream on top. "And hot cocoa?"
"It's cold out, no?" he asked, pointing out his window at the gloomy city outside.
She rolled her eyes, grabbing her mug from him as he sat next to her on the couch. She brought her knees up on the couch, resting her back against the arm of the chair as she faced him. He sat on the opposite side of the couch, mirroring her on the other side.
