day in and day out.
Peter and Jill just spending an afternoon hanging out, circa mid-January, 2009.
He'd listened when she'd told him what happened, he'd sought her out when she'd been shut in, and yet Jill was surprised that Peter now sat on the floor of her hut, on a pillow, leaning against her bedframe as she sketched out yet another outline. He was reading a book - The Boy's King Arthur, she thought, and it was... pleasant. Nice. More than that, it was calming. They'd settled into a companionable silence, and she squinted at the book in front of her, pursing her lips as she realised she had the wrong book. "Peter," she said quietly, because her ribs were still worse for wear, "Could you grab that massive book on the floor? The blue one." There were many blue books, and many massive books, but only one that fit both criteria.
Peter glanced up, then out where Jill was pointing. There were books strewn about, but he quickly found the one that was, indeed, both massive and blue. He picked it up, nearly throwing his own back out in the process, and brought it back to her, laying it at her side with wince. "Good heavens, Jill. You can't possibly need all these." He smiled crookedly, his brows knit together in a fond curiosity.
"They're case studies," she said, looking up at him as she opened the book roughly halfway. "Thanks, by the way." It wasn't that she was literally unable to get it herself, it just... would work better this way.
Her fingers skimmed the back of his hand as she smiled, before she squinted to read the small, tightly spaced type. "She'd about hit her quota for today on boring texts, but she knew she needed to crank out as much as she could.
"Don't mention it." He shook his head, smiling crookedly, feeling his face flush as their hands touched. "You've got such an enviable work ethic. It's really quite something." He settled back down on his pillow, flipping his book open again. He chanced a quick glance up at Jill, smiling softly, before turning back to his page.
"What else am I going to do if I don't work?" She said it quietly, not looking at him any longer as she ran her finger down the page. Yes, she could be working, but what it really was was that she didn't want to face him. Not right after she'd said... that.
Because it was true. What else would she do? Her friends- she saw them because she trained with them. Her friends from work, she saw because she worked. Peter... Peter was something else entirely.
The book fell into his lap with a 'fwump'. "Jill. Honestly. Just because you have to rest a little does not mean you're a total invalid." He paused, brows knit together. "We could go outside, get some fresh air, sit in the grass. Go to the rec room, watch a movie. I could cook and you could laugh at me." He grinned wide at the last one, head cocked to the side as he looked up at her. "If you think you're all penned up, I'll have to unpen you."
".... Really? We could see a movie." She didn't quite mean to sound so excited, but she was already closing her books. "My horse can carry double." Just because there was no way she could get herself to the Compound with the way her ribs were, not in anything less then hours or reinjury.
"I need to change," she said as she scooted to the edge of the bed, knowing that getting up would be the hardest part.
He cocked his head to the side, watching her close her work, suddenly interested. He opened his mouth to wonder, but before he could say anhything, she was at the edge of the bed. He'd seen this before, and he knew what was coming. The book tumbled out of his lap and hit the floor as he closed the distance to the bed, an arm around her. "Careful, Jill, if you even remotely strain anything, we're not going anywhere."
She looked up at him through the loose strands of blonde hair that had escaped her braid. "I was waiting for you, actually." She gripped the shoulder of his shirt as he helped her to her feet, and she managed to not make a sound this time, past the sudden breath she'd sucked in. "Improvement from last time, right?" It took her a second to regain her feet.
"Okay. I need different clothes." She waved at him, obviously shooing him out of her hut. "I'll only be a minute."
He shook his head a moment, a wry smile on his lips. He supported her as she regained her footing, eyes on her face, waiting for some sign of pain or trouble, but.... nothing. She was being careful, it was true, so he'd let her have her fun, as long as it involved a couch or somewhere for her to lie down.
He raised his eyebrows, quickly spinning toward the door, getting himself gone. "Give a yell if you need anything, or if you fall, or-" The door closed behind him and he slipped his hands in his pockets, waiting. "-or anything."
She exhaled slowly, and crouched slowly, digging through her clothes. Skirt, skirt- She was in front-hook bras for the time being, but she at least put on one that wasn't a sports bra, and tugged a fresh tanktop over her head - carefully, still, and even so she had to stop and lean against a wall for a moment. It still- still hurt.
Finally, she found a pair of yoga pants that she changed into, slipping her feet into flip flops once she'd fixed her hair, and came out, looking a little grayer but not really worse for wear.
He noticed how she looked, and paused before falling into step with her to go get her horse. "You know, if you needed help, you could have asked." His voice was low and patient, trying not to remind her that she still needed help with things, but trying to show that he was there. It wasn't easy.
"Peter," she said, in a way she hoped was mollifying instead of shirty, "I was putting clothes on. You- I mean, I'm sure you can help me put my clothes on, but I think I might just off and die from the mortification." She squinched her eyes shut for a moment. "... But you can help me with the horse?"
He flushed to his eartips, not quite putting two and two together. Idiot. "Well, right." He continued in step, smile cocky at that. "The horse, I can definitely help you with."
She was just as red as he was, and followed him to where she usually tied the lead, moving it from tree to tree to keep the grass from getting cut bare. "There he is." She looked over at Peter, and smiled. "Thank you for being so helpful." She said it quietly, sliding her braid back over her shoulder.
"Don't mention it." He loosened the lead, chirruping at the horse gently, patting its nose and giving it a moment to get familiar with him. He got the horse ready, and turned to Jill, a palm on the horse's flank. "You ready?"
She nodded. She'd been doing this on her own - much to her own pain, usually spending a good few minutes catching her breath once she'd mounted. But if she did that, Peter would never forgive her. "Give me a leg up?"
He nodded, gripping the saddle with one hand, and holding the other out for her. If she had even thought about getting on the horse by herself, he'd probably tackle her for thinking it. He waited patiently, trying not to think too hard about Jill being hurt again.
Jill inhaled, and bit the inside of her lip hard enough that she tasted copper as she shifted onto the horse. It would have been worse without his boost, and still she sat, unmoving as she tried to breathe shallowly, glad that she at least didn't have the swimming nausea anymore when she did it. "Alright," she said, not sounding alright at all.
He nodded, head cocked up at her as he waited a moment to make sure she was steady. "You okay up there?" He paused; she loved riding, and having something as little as getting on the horse be a chore must be difficult for her.
"M'fine," she said shortly, even though her grip on the pommel was white-knuckled. "You coming?" Please, so I can stop pretending. He'd be behind her, then, so he wouldn't see her face.
He paused, looking up at her a moment before mounting the horse behind her. He moved up, his arms moving around her waist to get the reigns, and maybe to make sure she was secure. "Alright, then, as long as you're steady."
She leaned back against him, closing her eyes as she just let him take over. "I'm fine," she said again, and after just a few minutes, she was. She just needed to get ahold of herself, to deal with the roll of the horse and the strangeness of having someone else with her. "I'm still looking for a name for him," she said quietly, some time later. She was short enough that they just seemed to fit.
He pulled in a breath as she leaned back, and he tensed a moment, but relaxed into it, supporting her. He was worried she was straining herself too much; a long rest on the couch would be good by the time they got there. He rode softly, trying to keep them to a slow and even pace. They rode for a while in silence, him listening carefully to her breathing, to make sure it was even and sure. "A name," He said softly, over her. "George." He said it with some finality, seeing if she'd like it or be amused.
"George?" She said it with a question, like she was really thinking about it. "Maybe. We'll see if it fits him." She closed her eyes, trying to just relax, to let herself key down. "What was your horse named? In Narnia, I mean." When he spoke, she felt the rumble in his chest as much as she heard him, and- and honestly, she just felt... at ease. Almost protected, the way his arms were- well, not around her, but he had to hold the reins, didn't he?
He paused, eyes slightly squinted. "You know, I almost can't remember. How scary is that? Only a few years gone from there, and it just starts to fade." He paused, shaking his head. "His name was Arthur, actually." His face cracked into a smile. "And Ed's was named Phillip, that I do remember." He shrugged, smiling. "Sometimes it comes back to me; being High King, living in Narnia all those years, and then suddenly becoming sixteen again." He shook his head.
She liked, honestly, just to listen to him talk. "Arthur's a good name for a horse." She finally - mostly because it was what was appropriate - sat up, a little, and was surprised to see that they didn't have all that far to go. Somehow, the time just seemed to pass faster then she'd realised. "Do you miss it? Being High King."
He shrugged, guiding the horse the last few yards to the compound. "I don't know, truly." He paused, thinking it through. "I love Narnia. I miss being there, to be sure. But being High King." He shook his head, lips pressed together. "There were days when I would have given just about anything to be just Peter."
He dismounted from the horse, tethering it with a quick scratch behind the ears. He reached up, offering his hand to Jill.
Steadying hands lifted her from the horse, and Jill, for once, wasn't breathless when her feet touched the ground. She was pink - she was sure he hadn't noticed how close they'd been when she'd dismounted. It'd been a short walk into the rec room, and once they'd set down, and he'd gotten the film threaded, he sat next to her. "What's the movie?" She'd half-curled up on the couch already, knowing all too well that she'd give so much just to be Jill - but if she was 'just Jill', then what sort of social life would she have?
"The Wizard of Oz." He settled down next to her, pulling a throw blanket over her legs. "Singing, dancing, good versus evil." He grinned, tucking the blanket around her legs. "Comfortable?"
She nodded, wishing she could pull her knees up, but it wasn't comfortable anymore. "Yes, thank you." She smiled even as Dorothy came on screen, and she looked over at him. "I always liked this film; I'd been to see a couple, and... well. This one just seemed to stick out, even though it's not quite like the book."
She yawned then, and wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the air conditioning.
He smiled, nodding. "It's so far from reality; falling into another world." He paused, chuckling. "And yet, something about it strikes closer to home." He glanced over, seeing her shivering. He pushed himself to his feet, grabbing another blanket from the other couch. "Here." He threw it over her shoulders, tucking it around her, and pausing a moment to rub her upper arms vigorously. "Gotta keep you warm."
Jill laughed quietly, shaking her head. "If you could wrap me in newspaper, you would. I'm not that delicate, Peter." She shifted slowly, pulling her feet up onto the couch even if she couldn't pull her knees to her chest. "I don't see how you're warm, honestly."
"You're not delicate, but you are cold. Injury or not, you'd get an extra blanket." He shrugged, smiling crookedly. "I'm always a little warmer than everyone else." He settled down next to her, a little closer, on the other side from her toes.
She leaned into him - it was automatic, balancing herself, for one, and also... he was truly warm, all silliness aside. "Well, then, I'm lucky that I have you to fetch one for me." She blushed, then, her eyes on the screen mostly because she was embarrassed. "This... is good. I don't think I've ever seen this so close."
He repositioned as she leaned against him, a small shuffle of his shoulder for a second. "Well, once you're feeling better, I'd make you get it yourself, is all." He smiled crookedly and paused a moment before moving his arm up and around her shoulders; it was more comfortable that way, of course. "I do love this movie. Such an adventure."
She didn't even think of it the way - well. Most people would think about it. She just curled up against him, her head on his shoulder because she fit there, and holding herself away would have hurt, and that would have been stupid.
"I wish they'd done more with the mice," she said, her words slow as she tugged the blanket up closer. "I always liked them. Even in Narnia - especially, actually."
"Mice?" He paused, eyes glancing down as she tugged the blanket, and he used his free hand to help, tucking her in. "Oh, right, yes." He paused, "Mice are fearless and noble things, aren't they." It wasn't so much a question, and as it was, he wasn't so sure she'd answer, at this point. He rested his head against her hair, blinking softly at the screen.
She lapsed into silence, making it all the way to when Dorothy finds the scarecrow before her head nodded once, then twice, the weight of her head on Peter's shoulder. She was so warm and comfortable, there was no way she could not fall asleep.
He settled back against the couch, warm and comfortable with his legs stretched out on the table in front of them. The familiar sounds washed over them, and when Jill's head dropped to his shoulder, he tried to keep his own head propped up, in vain. His head tucked against hers, and his eyelids drooped as he listened to her soft, even breath. And then, a few moments later, he followed her to sleep.
He'd listened when she'd told him what happened, he'd sought her out when she'd been shut in, and yet Jill was surprised that Peter now sat on the floor of her hut, on a pillow, leaning against her bedframe as she sketched out yet another outline. He was reading a book - The Boy's King Arthur, she thought, and it was... pleasant. Nice. More than that, it was calming. They'd settled into a companionable silence, and she squinted at the book in front of her, pursing her lips as she realised she had the wrong book. "Peter," she said quietly, because her ribs were still worse for wear, "Could you grab that massive book on the floor? The blue one." There were many blue books, and many massive books, but only one that fit both criteria.
Peter glanced up, then out where Jill was pointing. There were books strewn about, but he quickly found the one that was, indeed, both massive and blue. He picked it up, nearly throwing his own back out in the process, and brought it back to her, laying it at her side with wince. "Good heavens, Jill. You can't possibly need all these." He smiled crookedly, his brows knit together in a fond curiosity.
"They're case studies," she said, looking up at him as she opened the book roughly halfway. "Thanks, by the way." It wasn't that she was literally unable to get it herself, it just... would work better this way.
Her fingers skimmed the back of his hand as she smiled, before she squinted to read the small, tightly spaced type. "She'd about hit her quota for today on boring texts, but she knew she needed to crank out as much as she could.
"Don't mention it." He shook his head, smiling crookedly, feeling his face flush as their hands touched. "You've got such an enviable work ethic. It's really quite something." He settled back down on his pillow, flipping his book open again. He chanced a quick glance up at Jill, smiling softly, before turning back to his page.
"What else am I going to do if I don't work?" She said it quietly, not looking at him any longer as she ran her finger down the page. Yes, she could be working, but what it really was was that she didn't want to face him. Not right after she'd said... that.
Because it was true. What else would she do? Her friends- she saw them because she trained with them. Her friends from work, she saw because she worked. Peter... Peter was something else entirely.
The book fell into his lap with a 'fwump'. "Jill. Honestly. Just because you have to rest a little does not mean you're a total invalid." He paused, brows knit together. "We could go outside, get some fresh air, sit in the grass. Go to the rec room, watch a movie. I could cook and you could laugh at me." He grinned wide at the last one, head cocked to the side as he looked up at her. "If you think you're all penned up, I'll have to unpen you."
".... Really? We could see a movie." She didn't quite mean to sound so excited, but she was already closing her books. "My horse can carry double." Just because there was no way she could get herself to the Compound with the way her ribs were, not in anything less then hours or reinjury.
"I need to change," she said as she scooted to the edge of the bed, knowing that getting up would be the hardest part.
He cocked his head to the side, watching her close her work, suddenly interested. He opened his mouth to wonder, but before he could say anhything, she was at the edge of the bed. He'd seen this before, and he knew what was coming. The book tumbled out of his lap and hit the floor as he closed the distance to the bed, an arm around her. "Careful, Jill, if you even remotely strain anything, we're not going anywhere."
She looked up at him through the loose strands of blonde hair that had escaped her braid. "I was waiting for you, actually." She gripped the shoulder of his shirt as he helped her to her feet, and she managed to not make a sound this time, past the sudden breath she'd sucked in. "Improvement from last time, right?" It took her a second to regain her feet.
"Okay. I need different clothes." She waved at him, obviously shooing him out of her hut. "I'll only be a minute."
He shook his head a moment, a wry smile on his lips. He supported her as she regained her footing, eyes on her face, waiting for some sign of pain or trouble, but.... nothing. She was being careful, it was true, so he'd let her have her fun, as long as it involved a couch or somewhere for her to lie down.
He raised his eyebrows, quickly spinning toward the door, getting himself gone. "Give a yell if you need anything, or if you fall, or-" The door closed behind him and he slipped his hands in his pockets, waiting. "-or anything."
She exhaled slowly, and crouched slowly, digging through her clothes. Skirt, skirt- She was in front-hook bras for the time being, but she at least put on one that wasn't a sports bra, and tugged a fresh tanktop over her head - carefully, still, and even so she had to stop and lean against a wall for a moment. It still- still hurt.
Finally, she found a pair of yoga pants that she changed into, slipping her feet into flip flops once she'd fixed her hair, and came out, looking a little grayer but not really worse for wear.
He noticed how she looked, and paused before falling into step with her to go get her horse. "You know, if you needed help, you could have asked." His voice was low and patient, trying not to remind her that she still needed help with things, but trying to show that he was there. It wasn't easy.
"Peter," she said, in a way she hoped was mollifying instead of shirty, "I was putting clothes on. You- I mean, I'm sure you can help me put my clothes on, but I think I might just off and die from the mortification." She squinched her eyes shut for a moment. "... But you can help me with the horse?"
He flushed to his eartips, not quite putting two and two together. Idiot. "Well, right." He continued in step, smile cocky at that. "The horse, I can definitely help you with."
She was just as red as he was, and followed him to where she usually tied the lead, moving it from tree to tree to keep the grass from getting cut bare. "There he is." She looked over at Peter, and smiled. "Thank you for being so helpful." She said it quietly, sliding her braid back over her shoulder.
"Don't mention it." He loosened the lead, chirruping at the horse gently, patting its nose and giving it a moment to get familiar with him. He got the horse ready, and turned to Jill, a palm on the horse's flank. "You ready?"
She nodded. She'd been doing this on her own - much to her own pain, usually spending a good few minutes catching her breath once she'd mounted. But if she did that, Peter would never forgive her. "Give me a leg up?"
He nodded, gripping the saddle with one hand, and holding the other out for her. If she had even thought about getting on the horse by herself, he'd probably tackle her for thinking it. He waited patiently, trying not to think too hard about Jill being hurt again.
Jill inhaled, and bit the inside of her lip hard enough that she tasted copper as she shifted onto the horse. It would have been worse without his boost, and still she sat, unmoving as she tried to breathe shallowly, glad that she at least didn't have the swimming nausea anymore when she did it. "Alright," she said, not sounding alright at all.
He nodded, head cocked up at her as he waited a moment to make sure she was steady. "You okay up there?" He paused; she loved riding, and having something as little as getting on the horse be a chore must be difficult for her.
"M'fine," she said shortly, even though her grip on the pommel was white-knuckled. "You coming?" Please, so I can stop pretending. He'd be behind her, then, so he wouldn't see her face.
He paused, looking up at her a moment before mounting the horse behind her. He moved up, his arms moving around her waist to get the reigns, and maybe to make sure she was secure. "Alright, then, as long as you're steady."
She leaned back against him, closing her eyes as she just let him take over. "I'm fine," she said again, and after just a few minutes, she was. She just needed to get ahold of herself, to deal with the roll of the horse and the strangeness of having someone else with her. "I'm still looking for a name for him," she said quietly, some time later. She was short enough that they just seemed to fit.
He pulled in a breath as she leaned back, and he tensed a moment, but relaxed into it, supporting her. He was worried she was straining herself too much; a long rest on the couch would be good by the time they got there. He rode softly, trying to keep them to a slow and even pace. They rode for a while in silence, him listening carefully to her breathing, to make sure it was even and sure. "A name," He said softly, over her. "George." He said it with some finality, seeing if she'd like it or be amused.
"George?" She said it with a question, like she was really thinking about it. "Maybe. We'll see if it fits him." She closed her eyes, trying to just relax, to let herself key down. "What was your horse named? In Narnia, I mean." When he spoke, she felt the rumble in his chest as much as she heard him, and- and honestly, she just felt... at ease. Almost protected, the way his arms were- well, not around her, but he had to hold the reins, didn't he?
He paused, eyes slightly squinted. "You know, I almost can't remember. How scary is that? Only a few years gone from there, and it just starts to fade." He paused, shaking his head. "His name was Arthur, actually." His face cracked into a smile. "And Ed's was named Phillip, that I do remember." He shrugged, smiling. "Sometimes it comes back to me; being High King, living in Narnia all those years, and then suddenly becoming sixteen again." He shook his head.
She liked, honestly, just to listen to him talk. "Arthur's a good name for a horse." She finally - mostly because it was what was appropriate - sat up, a little, and was surprised to see that they didn't have all that far to go. Somehow, the time just seemed to pass faster then she'd realised. "Do you miss it? Being High King."
He shrugged, guiding the horse the last few yards to the compound. "I don't know, truly." He paused, thinking it through. "I love Narnia. I miss being there, to be sure. But being High King." He shook his head, lips pressed together. "There were days when I would have given just about anything to be just Peter."
He dismounted from the horse, tethering it with a quick scratch behind the ears. He reached up, offering his hand to Jill.
Steadying hands lifted her from the horse, and Jill, for once, wasn't breathless when her feet touched the ground. She was pink - she was sure he hadn't noticed how close they'd been when she'd dismounted. It'd been a short walk into the rec room, and once they'd set down, and he'd gotten the film threaded, he sat next to her. "What's the movie?" She'd half-curled up on the couch already, knowing all too well that she'd give so much just to be Jill - but if she was 'just Jill', then what sort of social life would she have?
"The Wizard of Oz." He settled down next to her, pulling a throw blanket over her legs. "Singing, dancing, good versus evil." He grinned, tucking the blanket around her legs. "Comfortable?"
She nodded, wishing she could pull her knees up, but it wasn't comfortable anymore. "Yes, thank you." She smiled even as Dorothy came on screen, and she looked over at him. "I always liked this film; I'd been to see a couple, and... well. This one just seemed to stick out, even though it's not quite like the book."
She yawned then, and wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the air conditioning.
He smiled, nodding. "It's so far from reality; falling into another world." He paused, chuckling. "And yet, something about it strikes closer to home." He glanced over, seeing her shivering. He pushed himself to his feet, grabbing another blanket from the other couch. "Here." He threw it over her shoulders, tucking it around her, and pausing a moment to rub her upper arms vigorously. "Gotta keep you warm."
Jill laughed quietly, shaking her head. "If you could wrap me in newspaper, you would. I'm not that delicate, Peter." She shifted slowly, pulling her feet up onto the couch even if she couldn't pull her knees to her chest. "I don't see how you're warm, honestly."
"You're not delicate, but you are cold. Injury or not, you'd get an extra blanket." He shrugged, smiling crookedly. "I'm always a little warmer than everyone else." He settled down next to her, a little closer, on the other side from her toes.
She leaned into him - it was automatic, balancing herself, for one, and also... he was truly warm, all silliness aside. "Well, then, I'm lucky that I have you to fetch one for me." She blushed, then, her eyes on the screen mostly because she was embarrassed. "This... is good. I don't think I've ever seen this so close."
He repositioned as she leaned against him, a small shuffle of his shoulder for a second. "Well, once you're feeling better, I'd make you get it yourself, is all." He smiled crookedly and paused a moment before moving his arm up and around her shoulders; it was more comfortable that way, of course. "I do love this movie. Such an adventure."
She didn't even think of it the way - well. Most people would think about it. She just curled up against him, her head on his shoulder because she fit there, and holding herself away would have hurt, and that would have been stupid.
"I wish they'd done more with the mice," she said, her words slow as she tugged the blanket up closer. "I always liked them. Even in Narnia - especially, actually."
"Mice?" He paused, eyes glancing down as she tugged the blanket, and he used his free hand to help, tucking her in. "Oh, right, yes." He paused, "Mice are fearless and noble things, aren't they." It wasn't so much a question, and as it was, he wasn't so sure she'd answer, at this point. He rested his head against her hair, blinking softly at the screen.
She lapsed into silence, making it all the way to when Dorothy finds the scarecrow before her head nodded once, then twice, the weight of her head on Peter's shoulder. She was so warm and comfortable, there was no way she could not fall asleep.
He settled back against the couch, warm and comfortable with his legs stretched out on the table in front of them. The familiar sounds washed over them, and when Jill's head dropped to his shoulder, he tried to keep his own head propped up, in vain. His head tucked against hers, and his eyelids drooped as he listened to her soft, even breath. And then, a few moments later, he followed her to sleep.