Intertwined - Jon Cozart x Dodie Clark fic

Chapter 2 - Mac&Cheese

Dodie's P.O.V.

Planes are weird. The flight from London to LA is ten hours long, and LA is eight hours behind, so it's almost like time travelling. I can arrive in LA and say 'huh, I swear I'd just left London two hours ago!' and not technically be wrong. I gave up on making that joke about three trips here ago, it gets old quite fast. Reason #1 why I'm glad I never became a comedian. Jon stands at the baggage claim doing something on his phone, already having picked up my bag. It's routine now, plus the bag isn't that difficult to find in a crowd - black and white polkadot, with a lavender ribbon on the handle. It's not-very-my-aesthetic, but who cares, it's just a travelling bag. Jon looks up upon hearing the click of my heeled boots on the floor running toward him. He holds his arms open, smile on his face, ready for me to run into, and surprisingly doesn't fall over when I collide into him.

'Ahhhhhh! It's so good to see you! How's it going?' I ask, arms tightly around him still.

'Good, aside from the constant mental breakdowns. How's London?' he asks, putting on a thick British accent on that last word, making me cringe a little bit.

'Incredibly normal. D'you wanna hit the road? I'm starving.' I look up at him, as I let go of him whilst smoothing down my dress.

'Yep. D'you wanna go to a fast food place or cafe or just go straight on back to mine?'

'Unless a fast food place or a cafe will let me take a power nap on the table, let's go straight back to yours.' Jon nods, and we walk out the door, he still carries my suitcase. Once in the car, I find myself lying down in the backseat. Plane rides leave me bloody well exhausted, give me a break. But, I still feel the aesthetic, so I put some selfies up to twitter.

'AYE MATES I'M IN LA

ft. the backseat of jon's car'

Once again, the responses to this tweet are filled with shippers.

'@doddleoddle is he, also, perchance, lying down in the backseat of his car with you? ;)'

'@doddleoddle aw cuties' 

And the list goes on. It's a wee bit insane, really. There isn't a lot I or Jon can do about the situation, we just have to sit back and let it unfold. Or fizzle out, or whatever.  One or the other.

*Jon's P.O.V.*

'So you're shooting stuff for the finebros? Is that the entire reason you came out here?' I ask, hoping for some form of cliche 'Oh no, Jon, I came out here to see you! the fine bros just gave me an excuse to see your wonderful, handsome, glorious face!', but of course it doesn't happen. Instead, I get a subtle 'Yup. I'm getting more #relatable and mainstream, they just couldn't deal without my pure reactions.'

'Oh, yes, pure reactions to things like the water bottle flipping challenge.' My heart's sunken a wee bit, but luckily I have a great poker face when it comes to this stuff. So she doesn't know. At this rate, she won't ever know. Soon enough, we drive up to the apartment block.

'Alright, Dodes, we're here.' I'm met with silence, so I poke my head around looking into the backseat to find that Dodie has fallen asleep. My first thought is to carry her inside, but then of course second thoughts come in that tell you otherwise, in words like 'Jon, you're not strong enough for that what are you thinking'. Fuck it, let's do it anyway. I get out the car, and open the backseat door. She looks so at peace when she's sleeping. Wait, no, that's really creepy. Okay, let's just get her inside before I start overthinking the boundaries of what is and isn't creepy in this particular situation. I'm not sure how I did it, but I've now successfully gotten her out of the backseat, and into my arms bridal style. Then, there's the stairs to climb. Fuck. I'm gonna be sweating like a sinner in church. Or me, whenever my family makes me go to religious events around Christmas time. I just hope nobody sees this and assumes I'm dragging an unconcious girl up to my apartment. Well, up we go. 

*Many stairs, sweatbeads, and minutes later*

Ok. It's not that she's heavy, it's just that I have no upper body strength. This is my entire workout for the year. Once I bustle into the apartment (somehow, miraculously having not bumped her head on anything, I gently place her on the couch, careful not to drop her. Once that's done, I collapse on the floor in a heaving pile of heathy breathing. And, of course, it's now that Dodie starts stirring.

'Jon?' I hear, in a sleepy voice.

'Yeah?' I reply, still panting.

'How did I get up - oh my god, why are you so sweaty?'She's rolled over so she can look down at me on the floor, in all my post-workout, weakling glory.

'I um. I had a tough workout while you were asleep.' I mean, I'm not wrong. 

'What did you even do, lift some weights?'

'Yeah.' Again. I'm not wrong.

'Well, I'm proud of you for finally starting your workout regime. But a shower may be advisable.' I nod slowly, and stand up at the same time she does, except the difference is that she's off to make herself some Mac&Cheese, while I'm off to make myself Mac&Clean. Bad dad jokes are my specialty, don't judge me. And, there's nothing like taking a shower knowing there's guaranteed Mac&Cheese after you come out of it. Dodie Clark, a woman after my own damn heart.

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Ok, this was shit. BUT, it gets us to the good stuff! *rubs hands together in a gleeful manner*

What did you think of this? Let me know in the comments!!!

Thank y'all for reading my guys, gals, and non-binary pals! Catch ya in Chapter 3!

 ~ Ellen Cozartist

P.S. I've decided what the next fic after this is going to be because I love planning ahead when it comes to things that aren't schoolwork, learning lines for shows, prepping for auditions or anything that affects my future. Get hype.