Kitten

Chapter Nine: All Loose Ends

The worry started setting in about a week before Valentine's Day. She never wore pants to bed. Shit, she hardly ever wore anything to bed and now all of a sudden she was wearing more clothes than a nervous bride. To say he was confused would be an understatement.

"Kitten? Y' gettin' sick again or somethin'?" He asked finally after the third night of this new...interest in long sleeves and sleeping pants and the whole 'not being naked beside him' thing. Which wasn't that big of an issue, really it wasn't. They were both adults and if she wanted to wear clothes to bed that was definitely her right. It was just...it was a deviation from the norm and that was always a little scary for him.

She didn't necessarily look guilty, but she sure as shit was cagey about the subject. "I've been kind of chilly."

That was it. That was all he got. And hell, he wanted to press the matter, but at the same time he didn't want to be that guy. So he just shut his mouth, accepted his good morning kiss (that he was still pretty sure he didn't deserve) and headed in to work as usual. He was a good boyfriend and refrained from asking the questions that might make her upset.

Simple Mox, good Mox.

...

Callihan of all people was the one to suggest he 'tidy up' for Valentine's Day, wiggling his eyebrows at Moxley in a way that made Jon want to wallop him. "Chicks ain't into body hair anymore, man. Ya' chest is literally revolting. I would know." Callihan gestured at his own hairless torso. "Keep a little bit of the trail, sure. Give 'er somethin' to follow. But get rid of that fuckin' pelt. Trust me. She'll be all over ya'."

"The last time I trusted ya' fuckin' scrawny ass I got beaned in the back of my fuckin' skull with a steel chair." Mox snorted with laughter, unable to keep it in when Sami looked let down. "Fuckin' douche, tryin' to kill me and shit."

"I didn't know the chick had a boyfriend, man. Will ya' let it go?" Sami groaned. "I said I was sorry an' everythin'."

Mox rubbed a hand thoughtfully over the stubble that plagued his face daily. "I don't think she cares, Callihan. I mean, I'll take it under...advisory or whatever th' fuck, but I'm pretty sure she don't care?" Mox's voice rose at the end of its own accord, turning his previously firm statement into a question. A doubt, starting to worm its way in. "Why would she care?"

"Hey I'm jus' sayin', man. It never hurts to at least look like ya' makin' an effort." Sami pointed out.

Jon's eyes narrowed. "Shit." He said finally. "I always look like a damn hobo next t' her, man. D'ya think that would help?"

Callihan shrugged. "Special occasion, ain't it?"

...

This was a goddamn terrible idea. Shit, he didn't even know if she wanted this or not. He didn't really want to ask, either. How much of a fucking jackass would he look like if he just walked up to her, opened his mouth and said something like, "hey babe, sugarplum, apple of my eye, you ever thought about me not looking like a stray dog for once?" The wild idea of him pulling off being a dashing son of a bitch haunted him, especially while looking like that guy from the cover of that book he definitely wasn't supposed to know she had stashed in her nightstand.

She was still wearing the damn pants to bed. Shit, she wasn't even letting him put his hands in said pants anymore, usually rolling over or catching his hands and kissing his knuckles in that way that made him melt.