#FreakshowFriday

Chapter 29: Cooldown

October 18, 2023

Jamie hasn't been this pissed in ages.

The rage should have subsided already, she thinks as she trails up the stairs after Nathan, glaring at his back. She had her moment to be furious on the boat and should be super zen again by now.

If this vacation hadn't been shoveling stress onto her in heaps, maybe she would've been able to let it go easier. But she can't. Nathan put himself in terrible danger, almost died, all because he somehow convinced himself it would be better for her that way, and oh my fucking god why are men so incredibly stupid?

Her hands, stuffed into the pockets of Nathan's go-to brown jacket, clench into fists. The jacket is currently the only article of clothing between the two of them that isn't sopping wet; Nathan had already taken it off way before entering the Doctor's Venetian lair. Jamie was going to be stubborn and decline when he offered it to her, but it turns out her principles aren't quite unshakeable when her teeth are chattering and her skin is riddled with goosebumps. Plus, the jacket may be too big for her, but it's warm and soft and it has that nice Nathan scent, so maybe it's worth holding on to a little longer.

Nathan opens the door to their hotel room in awkward slow-motion. Jamie has barely said a word to him since her outburst and his subsequent apology. He might be mistaking it for the silent treatment, but she's doing him a favour. The whole situation is too much for her and she still can't guarantee she'll be able to open her mouth without snapping at him some more. And he's suffered enough of that.

He lets her enter the room first, holding the door open all sheepish, watching her with this heartwrenching kicked-puppy look. Jamie doesn't have a clue what to do with that right now. She doesn't even know how to stop feeling so angry and cold.

Nathan doesn't seem to know what exactly he should do with himself, either. He lingers by his bed, staring at his still remarkably organized suitcase as if doing it hard enough may send dry, undamaged clothes float over to him through telekinesis.

He should be getting himself clean and treating his wound, but he must still be too distraught to do so. "For the record, I, um... I really am so sorry, Jamie."

"I know," Jamie manages to reply. "I'm sorry, too."

Sorry for every harsh word she allowed to slip out, even though some of them truly had to be said—she got carried away, shouldn't have struck with quite so much verbal force. Sorry for not being chill again when she ought to be over it already, when she should've left it miles behind her as easily as she would a revenant or a not-deer.

She doesn't want to be mad at Nathan anymore. She'd rather kiss him a little. Or a lot. But she's been putting a lot of work into evading the massive mess that would become, and jeopardizing everything good about them because she's all over the place emotionally is a kind of fallout she can't deal with on top of everything else. Nothing should happen and nothing will. Get real already.

Jamie draws the curtains halfway closed. She isn't in a mood for all the bright sunshine streaming in.

"Can we talk about what happened properly?" Nathan asks. "Just... Have a normal conversation about it, without screaming this time. There are a couple more things I think I need to say."

Jamie would like such a do-over. Just not right now. She turns back to him to tell him as much, but oh Jesus H. Christ.

Nathan found the motivation to rummage through his luggage for a change of outfit, but took off the sad remains of his wet T-shirt somewhere along the way.

Jamie's brain short-circuits. She's very normal about this, totally not distracted by his shirtlessness. She doesn't care about the fact he obviously works out or the way the muscles in his arms move or the faint happy trail leading into his jeans. None of that is important whatsoever.