Kitten

Chapter Eight: Tied Up Right

"It's just a holiday party for the office, Jon." What the hell had he gotten himself into? Jon scowled at his reflection, messing with his hair once again. She'd put some godawful, sticky product in it to make it behave but it seemed to be fighting back with a vengeance. Mox was pretty sure his hair had never been this unruly (or flammable, for that matter).

"You look fine, stop ruining it!" She chided him sharply, wetting her hands at the sink and slicking his hair down. It was easy for her to say, her hair always looked good, just as good as the rest of her. Tonight she had dressed in a sleek pencil skirt with nylons, and a pretty blue blouse. He'd seen all the pieces of this outfit separately at one point or another, but together...she definitely could pull off 'hot secretary' any day of the damn week.

Jon didn't think he looked too shabby, all things considered. Sami, upon hearing that he had a "genuine, honest-t'-goodness corp'rate Christmas-holiday party" to go to, had hauled his ass to the local Salvation Army where he proceeded to make Mox try on what seemed like fifty suitcoats.

"You need one tha' 'centuates y' fuckin' shoulders, but buttons tight at ya' ribs or waist. I dated a fashion designer once, trust me man." Callihan apparently knew his shit, because she had been absolutely thrilled when Mox had dragged the semi-matching jacket, shirt and slacks out of the plastic bag.

Now though, he wasn't so sure. Everything fit fine, but he didn't feel...one hundred percent behind it. Something was off with her; the way that she got ready seemed a little weird to him. She wasn't acting like she was headed to a party. She was so quiet. Almost like she was worried about something. What if she was worried about him? Anxiety flared up for a second before another thought muscled into the area. What if someone at this party recognized him? What would that mean for her, if one of her coworkers started something nasty because her boyfriend was a sort-of crazy, fork-wielding cage fighter?

He caught her around the waist as she went to put on her coat. "Kitten, you sure it's a good idea that I even come t' this little soiree?" He asked worriedly. "If I do somethin' dumb, I don't want it t' ruin your job." She looked up at him and straightened out the neck of his button-down shirt. Her hands were shaking and Mox held them carefully. "You alright? Y' been kinda' shivery. Comin' down with another cold?"

"I'm okay. There's just been so much going on at the office. We're all working hard to make this party good, you know?" She said, dismissing his concern. "I'm sure everything is going to be fine."

Jon's brow furrowed but he decided to leave it alone, silently helping her get her other sleeve on.

...

In a way, he supposed he was lucky. At least in this particular instance. They hadn't even gotten to the actual party, they were barely inside the office building. She'd just taken off her heavy coat as the sound of angry, raised voices met Mox's ears. When she flinched was when it clicked for him, and he was unable to help the shit-eating grin that spread across his face. He knew he must look like a psychopath, but he couldn't be damned.

Because he'd been waiting for this, oh God he had been waiting. Waiting for the day that motherfucker decided to rear his ugly head again.

Merry Christmas to me.

Her fingers dug into his arm and he realized he'd squared up, his whole body tense and ready. "Wait Jon, please." She begged, "can we just see if he'll leave? I don't want you getting hurt." Jon didn't exactly shake her off, per se, but he didn't give any indication of agreement either. "Jon, please."