Chasing Fate (Sentinel & Guide)

Chapter 31

   Jack busied himself tidying his workspace while Fate showered and got ready. He strode into the dressing room to find not much changed at all. Some business casual clothes were neatly hung, and one drawer had fingerprints where she'd put things away. The neon green trunk had a tiny selection of shoes on top. One pair of black flats, modest black heels, and well-worn hiking boots.
 

It was nothing like his mother's closet, where he'd been sent on a hunt for something many times only to come up with eight separate beige gladiator heels. His own closet reflected his mother's shopping habit. He worried that if his mother got wind of a lacking wardrobe poor Fate would find herself on the designer's pedestal with no hope of escape.

She was definitely looking for an excuse now that Jack's smaller public persona didn't require as many costume changes.

Remembering the colors from the bundle she carried into the bathroom, he picked out a slightly faded mulberry shirt and some dark wash jeans. Generally, when he was at home he vacillated between ratty t-shirts with suspicious stains and carefully pressed button downs. But in his recent bid to impress Fate he'd been picking up his V-necks and henleys much more often. He checked the size on the v-necked mulberry shirt, one he'd had since college. Still a touch small. It would definitely show off his chest. He knew his assets. A brown belt and brown leather ankle boots would make him look dressy enough for pictures but comfortable enough to tousle with the kids.

He was having an internal debate on whether he should wear boxers or briefs when the steamy scent of Fate heralded her exiting the bathroom. He dashed out, leaving his clothes in a heap on the island dresser.

Fate stepped out barefoot, holding her black strapped sandals in one hand and a tiny bag in the other. Her dress was a floral print on black ground. It appeared to be a light fabric but it dropped to her feet and covered her arms to the wrist. Jack noticed that he slightly drooping neckline was the most skin he'd seen her show in all the time he'd known her.

Jack's eyes zeroed in on all the details that had changed in the short fifteen minutes she'd spent. Her hair was parted on one side and slicked back into a low bun. The bun itself was braided and tucked in tightly. She'd put in modest pearl earrings and face was dewy from a fresh scrub. a tiny gold chain with a pearl dangle rested at her throat. Her lashes were darker, mascara, and the slightly rosier tint to her lips denoted some form of lipstick, subtle as it was. If he wasn't a sentinel he truly wouldn't have been able to tell.

She looked stunning.

Jack stood absolutely dumbstruck for a moment before he collected his wits. Fate could feel the awe radiating through their link like a shining light. Her cheeks warmed up a bit, embarrassed. It was just an old dress and some mascara. He didn't have to be so dumbfounded. She wanted to look away but knew better than to turn her face. She aimed her eyes downward in deference.

Jack's heart sank at that posture. She looked so pitiful and terribly cute. He sighed resolutely, "You look nice," he offered as gently as possible before making an abrupt dash for the bathroom.

He heard her quietly whisper a thanks from the safety of the bathroom. 

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Jack made his shower as efficient as possible, though he did waste a little time investigating the jar of all-natural coconut scrub and consequently nearly scraping his nipples off when it was much more abrasive than expected. He'd heard that beauty was pain, but was this necessary?

He was just done trimming his beard when he reached over to grab his underwear from where he hung them on a bar. Or, he would have, if he hadn't gotten distracted mid-decision. He'd been in such a rush to see Fate he'd left his clothes in the dressing room.

Without thinking he slung his towel around his hips and dashed out of the bathroom... only to come barreling right into Fate as she exited the dressing room. She'd been holding his clothes, which went flying as she nearly toppled over when 6'5" of man and terry cloth ran right into her. Jack managed to keep a hold on his towel, but only barely.

Fate sat dumbly on the ground, the shirt landed on top of her head and the belt over her shoulder. Who knew where the pants went, but she had a more pressing matter towering over her at the moment. Honestly, she thought she'd seen everything from the publicist images of him in his fight-spandex, but up close and personal his muscles were in high definition, glistening from the shower with steam still rippling out.

Jack turned red from eyebrow to ankle as he realized he was basically nude in front of her. He spun around, giving her a view of a little tattoo on one bouncing cheek as he escaped back into the shower. That one definitely hadn't made it into any of his spreads.

It was Jack's turn to be the shy maiden as he heard Fate bustling around to collect his wayward outfit. He watched her silhouette through the frosted glass as she folded everything neatly and placed it carefully on the decorative shelf right outside the door before retreating to the other side of the room.

"T-Thanks" he called as he retrieved his clothes, shuffling back in and shimmying into his jeans as fast as possible. They were warm and stiff.

Ironed?

Even his shirt, a stretchy cotton, was ironed neatly. It had been curious when she'd done it the first couple of times, but since he hadn't said anything, it seemed to have become a habit.

Why? He was a grown man! If he needed to iron a shirt he could do it himself. He wasn't even sure how she'd found the iron, he kept it tucked in a drawer for special occasions that required a pressed shirt.

He sat to put on his boots and noticed that the suede didn't have a single scuff. They weren't new, and he remembered making a note to himself to take them down to Elliot for a brushing. But here they were in better shape than he'd ever seen.

There had definitely been some bustling about during his shower, but had she really buffed his shoes?

A slight frown wrinkled his brow and he tried to concentrate on their bond. He hadn't been prying into her side of the bond for obvious reasons, but he couldn't quite figure this out.

He could only feel apprehension from the other side of the door, though with the sounds of more and more people making their way in, he couldn't pinpoint whether she was only apprehensive about the state of his boots or the entire situation at hand.

Perhaps she was the type to do busywork when nervous. After all, she was here all alone, far from home and surrounded by strangers.

He just hoped she'd learn to take a little more comfort in him ...not his laundry.