Believing In You (Blue Bloods Fanfiction)

↞ Chapter Six ↠

Season Two, Episode One

Jameson surprisingly woke up before me, but not much before. The second he tried to move off of the sofa I came awake.

"Sorry," He whispered, trying to suppress the little bit of laughter that passed through his lips. I lifted my head a bit, kissing his forehead as it was the only part of him that I could reach. Jameson laid his head back down on my chest, "Your heart beats so loudly." He voice was soft when he spoke.

I didn't have a response, instead turning my head to glance at the clock on the mantel. "Bloody hell, it's after noon already?" I kissed the top of Jameson head, "I've got to get up my love."

Jameson groaned loudly, pressing his face further into my chest, and speaking into my shirt. I snorted, touching my hands to his shoulders. Jameson started to roll over, falling in between me and the couch before slowly starting to push me off the couch. I shouted, grabbing his arm to stop myself but falling before I could get a firm enough grip. The thud of my bum hitting the ground followed immediately by my head echoed loudly, and suddenly the clicking of Kenai's paws joined the room. She hopped over me, landing on the couch and snuggling up next to my boyfriend.

I stretched a bit, before pulling myself off of the ground by the edge of the coffee table. I stood to my feet, throwing a glance over my shoulder at Jameson and Kenai, both of whom had closed their eyes in an attempt to go back to sleep. I continued to the kitchen, opening the freezer taking a look at my masterpiece before moving to open the fridge. I grab the carton of eggs, cracking a few into a bowl and whisking them in rapid succession. I dumped the contains into a pan, turning it on and giving it tome to heat into a solid. As the eggs cooked in the pan, I worked on separating another six eggs into whites and the yellow bits.

Meringue can be very difficult to make, the whites have to be perfectly mixed, but not too much, and then the sugar has to be added at the perfect time or else it all collapses. But when made properly the meringue melts on your tongue in a wonderful way, and tastes rather brilliant, and the best part is it can sit around for however long you like.

I felt arms wrap around my waist, and Jameson face pressed into my back. I smiled, continuing to work the pan and move the cooking eggs around. "We've got to leave soon."

"Really?" It came out in a muffled sort of groan, and I nodded, moving enough to grab two plates and dumping a bit more than half on one and a little bit less on the other. Jameson detangles himself from me, and I hand a plate over to him, grabbing two forks and passing him one. I watch as he eats a few bites quickly before speaking. "I need to go get clothes." He mumbled, before eating the rest of his food quickly.

"You can borrow some of mine?" I asked as a question, and was nearly disappointed when he shook his head. He stepped around me, placing his plate into the dishwasher.

"As much as I love," he paused, standing on his toes to kiss me, "wearing your clothes, I should probably wear something that fits." As he started to walk away, he paused, reaching his hand up to brush my shoulder. I felt myself pale. "What's this?" I felt his fingertips brush across the scar, and I tensed up.

"It's nothing my love." I stepped away, ducking my head and turning back to my meringue. I heard him sigh, his hand touched my back briefly, and the warmth was gone just as quick as it was there.

"I'll see you at the house?" I nodded, absentmindedly touching a hand to the scar that sat on my shoulder and brushed across the side of my neck just slightly, telling him goodbye without turning round. I heard the door shut, and felt Kenai brush against me.

"I know, I know," I muttered, looking down at her as I scooped the meringue into another bowl to take with me to the Reagan's. I set it into the fridge, just so it wouldn't warm up too much before I needed to leave. "I should probably have a word, but I'd rather not." I spoke to Kenai as I walked into my bedroom. I could hear the clicking of her claws on the ground as she followed me through. I grab a collared shirt from my closet, starting to change into it before pausing. At second glance, I reach in and grab a short sleeved shirt, hanging the other back in the closet. I get changed quickly, pulling on my black sneakers as I leave the room.

Just as I grab the bowl of meringue and the last parts of the baked Alaska out of the freezer, I realize the time. I'm suddenly in a rush, hurrying out the front door, and snatching my leather coat and Kenai's leash as I do. She trots down the stairs, hurrying ahead of me as I busy myself with balancing the bowl and play while locking the door. "Goodbye Mrs. Jefferson!" I shout ridiculously loud, ignoring her shout of me being to loud as I run out the front door. I click the fob on my key ring, unlocking my car and letting Kenai into the front seat before placing the bowl and plate onto the back seat and sliding in after her. It takes me longer than I care to admit to pull out of the parallel space I had parked myself in, but once free I rush off joining the lazy Sunday roads.

The drive to the Reagan household was peaceful, with a little bit of Sinatra playing from my radio as I drove. The driveway was full of cars, so I bumped up against the curb to park. Kenai hopped through the window to get out, and I watched with a smile as she ran right up to the front door and sat next to it, waiting for me to open the door. I climbed out, grabbing both plate and bowl from the back and hurrying up to the front of the house. I balanced both on one arm, opening the door with the other. "Hullo Reagan's!" I shouted a bit, closing the door with my foot.

The sound of stomping feet came around the corner and both Jack and Sean appeared. They shouted their 'hellos', Sean immediately goes to Kenai, starting to get her riled up to run around. I watch them go.

"Mr. Howards can I help you?" Jack asks, and I smiled down at him, nodding and passing the bowl of meringue to him.

"Thank you Jack," He starts to walk to the kitchen, and as I follow I speak again. "Jack, you can call me Jett if you like. Using mister makes me feel so old." I make my voice scratchy at the end, hunching my back. Jack laughs, before nodding and setting the bowl of meringue on the counter top before running off after his brother.