Chasing Sunshine | JJ Maybank

3 // Pilot

"Well, this is adorable."

The sound of John B's teasing voice roused me from sleep pretty quickly. Groggily, I lifted my head and realized JJ and I had shifted during the night, ending up face-to-face and so close that one of his arms was draped comfortably over my waist. John B was leaning against the opposite wall, observing us with one raised eyebrow and crooked grin. Flipping him the bird, I hastily shoved JJ away from me and sat up on the edge of the couch, pulling down my tank top from where it had bunched up during the night.  "Oo, testy this morning aren't we?" he taunted further, ruffling my already-messy bangs and pushing open the back porch door. "Either of you been outside?"

JJ, who couldn't have been less bothered by our interruptions, was still practically passed out and drooling onto a pillow. But I still heard his muffled voice say, "I have polio...I can't walk."

"Get up," I told him, pushing roughly on his shoulders before standing up with a stretch. When that didn't work, I crossed to the other side of the extended mattress and shoved again harder. "JJ."

"Mmm," he grumbled, burying his face into the pillow and swatting blindly at my body, "Go away."

Placing a hand on my hip with a huff, I stood there and contemplated my next move for a minute or two. Finally, the lightbulb went off and I crouched down so we were eye-level, threatening quietly, "I'll get the hose."

Success. One eye cracked open hesitantly, peering over at my warning expression. "You wouldn't."

"Oh JJ," I replied, drawing out my words with a sticky sweetness, "I think we both know I would."

His eyes squinted, trying to figure out if I was being serious or not. So I shot up after a few seconds of no response, feigning a move towards the door which got him moving fairly quickly. "All right, all right," he said, voice still a little thick from residual sleepiness and legs flying clumsily to scurry out of bed before I made good on my promise, "I'm up, okay?"

"That wasn't so hard was it?" I said, staring down his irritated glower with a triumphant smile.

"She-devil..." he muttered under his breath, shuffling off to the kitchen while I rolled my eyes and followed John B's path outside. I let out a low whistle as I took in the graveyard of uprooted trees, broken branches, and wood panel scraps littering the lawn. All in all, the Château didn't make out too bad; this old fish shack had seen worse.

"Agatha did some work, huh?" JJ called out to John B, appearing at my side somehow without making a sound, beer already in hand. I took the outstretched soda can from his hand without comment, the routine interaction passing between us easily.

"Yeah she did," John B answered, still puttering about the yard, setting furniture back upright and hauling a few of the larger sticks from the yard and into the small crop of trees. He wandered over to where he had moored his tiny fishing boat (the HMS Pogue, as we called it) on land and hopped inside with a thud. I crossed the yard barefoot, a somewhat childish delight coming from the feeling of dewy grass and soft mud squishing between my toes, and took the branches he was pulling out from inside.

JJ also came over, watching John B make several passing glances over the marsh. "What are you thinkin'?"

"I'm thinkin' that storm surge pushed all the crabs out on the marsh maze. All those drum are gonna chase the crab."

"What about DCS?" JJ questioned further, "Wasn't that supposed to be today?"

John B shrugged, flinging the last tree branch far off into the distance before turning to face us with a grin. "Nah, they're not gettin' on a ferry today. Think about it...it's God telling us to fish."