Fic - I'm Trying to Keep My Heart Intact
Alright, so I wrote a brief little Jamille snippet. Because I love them. And also because I think that Jo deserves a lot more credit than she is given, as a character. She is beautiful (and not in an OMG, KATELYN IS PERFECT, sort of way) and she is strong and she is wonderful. So without further ranting:
Title: I'm Trying to Keep My Heart Intact
Fandom: Big Time Rush
Pairing: Jo/Camille
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: underage drinking and slight innuendo and possible implied sex
Summary: Jo was always softer in the mornings.
A/N: I think I might write them too often to get anything else accomplished. Ha. Also, the title of this story is lovingly stolen from "It's Good" by Katelyn Tarver.
In the morning, Jo was soft.
She had drunk just enough. When Jo had had a few glasses of wine, she lost her hard edge. Her body turned languid and she moved like fluid that she had taken in, golden and sliding. Jo’d had just the right amount because she would have never turned up at Camille’s door in the middle of the night if she had been sober. But she was ok- she was a lightweight but she wasn’t gone because she still had her balance and she didn’t slur her speech when she let her body sink into Camille’s and said, “Hi, Mimi. Did you miss me?” she fisted her long fingers into Camille’s hair. “I missed you,” she whispered into her ear. If Camille had not already know that Jo was tipsy with her body language and her ‘Mimi’, she would have known without doubt at that. Jo didn’t say things like “I miss you.”
Jo was still wrapped around Camille, clinging tight and shoving their bodies together and tracing her finger nails in cirlces on Camille’s back, and it was killing Camille. “Let’s get you home, Josephine.” Camille was not going to have Jo like this, because they weren’t together anymore and Jo would regret it in the morning and-Fuck. Camille really wanted to say ‘stay here with me. we’ll figure it out in the morning when you’re not drunk and I’m not sad,’ but she had to do the right thing.
“No. I want to stay here with you,” she pressed their noses together. Jo’s accent was thicker when she had been drinking. She sounded like a girl who had grown up in North Carloina, playing on the beach and rolling in the sand until it stuck to her body and she looked like a donut, instead of a girl who moved to LA and started to fight her roots. Camille sometimes wondered if Kendall or Rebecca/Rachel/Robert/Roberta/whatever-the-hell-her-name-is noticed this about Jo.
“Jo, you-you know that we’re not together any more, right? I mean, you know that you broke up with me because I-because I-“ it was killing her to even think about it and she didn’t want to say it because she didn’t want to relive the most idiotic night of her life.
Jo shook her head. “I don’t care, Mimi. I want to be here with you tonight.” She looked at Camille and her eyes were soft, but it was something different then alcohol shinning out of them. It was a different kind of softness, one that suckerpunched Camille in the gut. “I love you.”
Camille didn’t really have time to think before her lips were crashing onto Jo’s. They were struggling backwards, flying deeper into the apartment so they could sink down into the bed. Something in Camille quivered-something that had nothing at all to do with arousal-when Jo’s hand flittered over Camille’s breast, bare under her t-shirt, and rested her hand on Camille’s heart. Camille buried her face in the crook of Jo’s neck and breathed in that smell of vanilla and raspberries and spring time and the salt of the ocean. She tugged at Jo’s sweater and felt her squirm below her as Camille kissed at that spot where Jo’s pulse surged in her neck.
In the morning, when Camille comes back to bed with two cups of coffee in her hands, wearing the t-shirt from last night that smelled like Jo now.
“You’re wearing my favorite pair of underwear,” Jo says groggily. There was still sleep in her voice, but she was half laughing. Usually, she stayed bare skinned for hours when they were together in the mornings. Today, Jo had slipped back into her sundress, but she was under the covers. Camille couldn’t find it in herself to be disappointed because she had half expected to come back to an empty bed.
When Jo reaches out to take the coffee cup, she looked a little sad in a way that Jo didn’t usually let herself look.
In the morning, Jo is soft.
Her makeup is smudged and her hair is a mess of limp curls. She looks into her coffee like the answer to everthing is inside of it, mixed in with the cream.
“What is it Josie?”
She shrugs, but she doesn’t scowl at the nickname, which is a good sign. When they fight and Camille uses Jo’s nickname, she gets a death glare shot in her direction.
“I don’t know. What the hell am I doing, Camille?”
“Last night? Well, we-”
That gets the glare she is looking for. Jo raises one of those eyebrows. “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”
“Well…” she crawls in the bed too. “What is it that you want?”
“You.”
“Then,” she lounges out over the bed, imitating something between an old pinup and a porn star, “take me.”
Jo falls down onto the pillow in a fit of giggles and soon they are facing towards each other, feet and hands intertwined. Jo leans forward until their forheads are resting against each other. “Seriously, Cami. I want this again.”
“So? Why’s that so hard?”
“You… you want it too?”
“Yes. Or I wouldn't have taken you in when you came to my door like a little drunk girl. I would have shut the door and called what’s-her-face,” she gestures to her hair, “with all the curls, to come get you.”
Jo rolls her eyes, “Oh god,” and they dissolve into laughter. “Camille, this is-I don’t want this to be like last time all over again. You can’t want that either.”
Camille sighed. Camille chose her words very carefully. And then she put on her best Kendall impression, “Well, you only live life once, Jo. You can’t go around skipping out because you’re scared. You have to live life.” She slipped back into Camille and Jo stopped laughing, “Sometimes life gives you second chances. So, I think it’s a sign. Maybe we should just see where things go. Because I’m happy right now. Like this.”
Jo inched closer and closed her eyes.
Jo always was softer in the mornings. Jo always was softer with Camille.
Title: I'm Trying to Keep My Heart Intact
Fandom: Big Time Rush
Pairing: Jo/Camille
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: underage drinking and slight innuendo and possible implied sex
Summary: Jo was always softer in the mornings.
A/N: I think I might write them too often to get anything else accomplished. Ha. Also, the title of this story is lovingly stolen from "It's Good" by Katelyn Tarver.
In the morning, Jo was soft.
She had drunk just enough. When Jo had had a few glasses of wine, she lost her hard edge. Her body turned languid and she moved like fluid that she had taken in, golden and sliding. Jo’d had just the right amount because she would have never turned up at Camille’s door in the middle of the night if she had been sober. But she was ok- she was a lightweight but she wasn’t gone because she still had her balance and she didn’t slur her speech when she let her body sink into Camille’s and said, “Hi, Mimi. Did you miss me?” she fisted her long fingers into Camille’s hair. “I missed you,” she whispered into her ear. If Camille had not already know that Jo was tipsy with her body language and her ‘Mimi’, she would have known without doubt at that. Jo didn’t say things like “I miss you.”
Jo was still wrapped around Camille, clinging tight and shoving their bodies together and tracing her finger nails in cirlces on Camille’s back, and it was killing Camille. “Let’s get you home, Josephine.” Camille was not going to have Jo like this, because they weren’t together anymore and Jo would regret it in the morning and-Fuck. Camille really wanted to say ‘stay here with me. we’ll figure it out in the morning when you’re not drunk and I’m not sad,’ but she had to do the right thing.
“No. I want to stay here with you,” she pressed their noses together. Jo’s accent was thicker when she had been drinking. She sounded like a girl who had grown up in North Carloina, playing on the beach and rolling in the sand until it stuck to her body and she looked like a donut, instead of a girl who moved to LA and started to fight her roots. Camille sometimes wondered if Kendall or Rebecca/Rachel/Robert/Roberta/whatever-the-hell-her-name-is noticed this about Jo.
“Jo, you-you know that we’re not together any more, right? I mean, you know that you broke up with me because I-because I-“ it was killing her to even think about it and she didn’t want to say it because she didn’t want to relive the most idiotic night of her life.
Jo shook her head. “I don’t care, Mimi. I want to be here with you tonight.” She looked at Camille and her eyes were soft, but it was something different then alcohol shinning out of them. It was a different kind of softness, one that suckerpunched Camille in the gut. “I love you.”
Camille didn’t really have time to think before her lips were crashing onto Jo’s. They were struggling backwards, flying deeper into the apartment so they could sink down into the bed. Something in Camille quivered-something that had nothing at all to do with arousal-when Jo’s hand flittered over Camille’s breast, bare under her t-shirt, and rested her hand on Camille’s heart. Camille buried her face in the crook of Jo’s neck and breathed in that smell of vanilla and raspberries and spring time and the salt of the ocean. She tugged at Jo’s sweater and felt her squirm below her as Camille kissed at that spot where Jo’s pulse surged in her neck.
In the morning, when Camille comes back to bed with two cups of coffee in her hands, wearing the t-shirt from last night that smelled like Jo now.
“You’re wearing my favorite pair of underwear,” Jo says groggily. There was still sleep in her voice, but she was half laughing. Usually, she stayed bare skinned for hours when they were together in the mornings. Today, Jo had slipped back into her sundress, but she was under the covers. Camille couldn’t find it in herself to be disappointed because she had half expected to come back to an empty bed.
When Jo reaches out to take the coffee cup, she looked a little sad in a way that Jo didn’t usually let herself look.
In the morning, Jo is soft.
Her makeup is smudged and her hair is a mess of limp curls. She looks into her coffee like the answer to everthing is inside of it, mixed in with the cream.
“What is it Josie?”
She shrugs, but she doesn’t scowl at the nickname, which is a good sign. When they fight and Camille uses Jo’s nickname, she gets a death glare shot in her direction.
“I don’t know. What the hell am I doing, Camille?”
“Last night? Well, we-”
That gets the glare she is looking for. Jo raises one of those eyebrows. “That’s not what I mean and you know it.”
“Well…” she crawls in the bed too. “What is it that you want?”
“You.”
“Then,” she lounges out over the bed, imitating something between an old pinup and a porn star, “take me.”
Jo falls down onto the pillow in a fit of giggles and soon they are facing towards each other, feet and hands intertwined. Jo leans forward until their forheads are resting against each other. “Seriously, Cami. I want this again.”
“So? Why’s that so hard?”
“You… you want it too?”
“Yes. Or I wouldn't have taken you in when you came to my door like a little drunk girl. I would have shut the door and called what’s-her-face,” she gestures to her hair, “with all the curls, to come get you.”
Jo rolls her eyes, “Oh god,” and they dissolve into laughter. “Camille, this is-I don’t want this to be like last time all over again. You can’t want that either.”
Camille sighed. Camille chose her words very carefully. And then she put on her best Kendall impression, “Well, you only live life once, Jo. You can’t go around skipping out because you’re scared. You have to live life.” She slipped back into Camille and Jo stopped laughing, “Sometimes life gives you second chances. So, I think it’s a sign. Maybe we should just see where things go. Because I’m happy right now. Like this.”
Jo inched closer and closed her eyes.
Jo always was softer in the mornings. Jo always was softer with Camille.