you always fold just before you're found out {big brother 11 - jeff/jordan/laura}
Title: You Always Fold Just Before You're Found Out
Fandom: Big Brother 11
Characters/Pairings: Jeff/Jordan/Laura
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,351
Author's Note: Written for fox1013. And yes, I know this is wrong on many levels. Relies on some knowledge of livefeed conversations.
Summary: Set during Week 2. They're the popular girls and he's the athlete and it just all makes perfect, poetic sense.
It’s all about the cliques.
They’re the popular girls and he’s the athlete in the sort of all-American, football playing, hot but only sort of knows it, way that the others just aren’t. Laura has girlfriends back home that would take one look at this situation and give her a “what are you waiting for” coupled with raised eyebrows, and she takes that sentiment and runs with it.
Later, Jeff will claim it was only “that one time”, which is only to say that was the only time he got inside of either of them. Like he can negate the time he walked in on her and Jordan making out in the Have-Not room and promptly joined in, or the time she gave him a handjob in the green room, or the time he went down on Jordan in the bathroom, on something as simple as a technicality.
That’s not the way it works.
---
Friday evening finds her and Jeff nominated, and Laura does the half-angry, half-crying thing and is pretty much only okay with the first half. She hates crying, especially here, and Jordan hugs her and says the same thing everyone says because it’s all she knows. Things like “there’s always the POV” and “it’s still early - three days from now things could be completely different”. No matter; Laura has this gut feeling like it’s all downhill from here and she might as well get something out of this ordeal.
Jeff’s there minutes later, and she watches him slide an arm around Jordan’s waist as he comes to sit behind her, and she fights back an eye roll and a crack about showmances, instead choosing to say, “At least I’ve got good company up there with me.”
He smiles; it makes her feel warm and jealous at the same time.
Jordan is the first back out the door, something about checking out the cantaloupe in the storage room, because the girl eats all the time, and Jeff rises at the same time as Laura does, in time with the closing of the door behind Jordan.
“This fucking sucks,” he says, abandoning any form of optimism that he might have at least been acting like he possessed, and she nods her agreement. And maybe it’s instinct or commiseration or whatever but she reaches for him just as she’s about to pass him, hands clamping onto strong shoulders, and it’s a quick hug but it’s still a hug that lasts half a second too long before she’s gone out the door too.
That night, he walks in on her showing Jordan this thing to do with your tongue that she learned in Cosmo. And then asks for her to show him when she’s done with Jordan. It would almost make this all his fault, if she hadn’t crawled over to him so eagerly, satisfaction and anticipation running through her veins.
---
The steak dinner bet ends up between them just keeps on growing.
“So I’ve got to take you out to dinner if I win,” he says, like he’s trying to get it straight in his head, flicking his gaze over to Jordan whose sprawled out between them in the spa room, “and I’ve got to take you to Fiji.”
Laura shifts up onto her elbows, her hair falling in such a way that the ends of it graze Jordan’s shoulder. She giggles, drawing brief looks from both of them, before Laura says, “Or you could take us both to Fiji. And dinner.”
It sounds like a come on, the way she almost purrs it, and it’s intentional. Jordan’s still laughing, but now it’s less because she’s being accidentally tickled and more because she’s amused.
Jeff raises an eyebrow, “Any more demands?”
“Depends on if I make it through this week or not,” she replies, just before she leans down to press her lips to Jordan’s, to get her stop laughing. It only makes it worse. If she feels Jeff’s hand just touch the top of her head, his fingers in her hair for a second, she doesn’t show it on her face when she lays back down. She’s had her poker face on for some time now.
“You two are too much,” Jordan says, somewhere in that laughing fit of hers, right before Jeff’s hands slip along that strip of skin between her shorts and her t-shirt, tickling her, and she arches beneath his fingertips, and that beat of awkwardness leaves in a flash.
It still reinforces what she already knows: it’s always going to be the two of them, that’s something that she can’t break, doesn’t even want to. But it’s also something that she desperately wants to be a part of.
---
That “one time” happens after veto. It’s both a celebration and a cry of defeat.
Jordan’s going up anyways; nobody wins here. Not on their team.
---
“Goldfish memory,” she shoots back at him, when he first starts up with the “it was only that one time and it’s not like we planned on it and it’s not like it’ll ever happen again” crap.
“Goldfish?” Jordan says, with a start, like it’s the first thing she’s actually heard out of this conversation. Laura wouldn’t be surprised. Sometimes she gets this dazed look, like she’s off in her own world, and Laura’s pretty sure everything said during that time just flies right over her head. “What do goldfish have to do with anything?”
Surprisingly, Jeff answers for her, “They’re supposed to have like eight second memories or something.”
Laura and Jordan balk for different reasons, and Laura takes the opportunity to voice hers first. “You know the goldfish memory thing, but you still spelled technotronics? Wow.”
“Is anyone ever going to let that go?”
“No,” her and Jordan say, at the exact same time, twin smiles on both of their faces.
It’s silent for a moment, and Laura slumps against the wall, readjusting Jordan’s legs in her lap, her head in Jeff’s, like they’re sharing her, and they sort of are. Or were. “It’s a myth anyway,” she adds, after it’s been a beat too long for anyone to connect that to her earlier statement.
“What’s a myth?”
“The goldfish thing,” she elaborates. “I think they disproved it.”
“Then why did you say it?” Jeff asks.
She shrugs, her hands tangling in Jordan’s hair, idly. “I don’t know, it’s just the first thing I thought of.” His eyes are on her, she can feel them, but she purposely doesn’t return his gaze. “Can’t have too much truth in this house.”
It’s a shot at him. She doesn’t need anything but the way he tears his eyes away, looking down at Jordan, to know that he understands that.
---
No one lays a slightly inappropriate or suggestive hand on anyone else again, at least not to her knowledge, until after the Ronnie blowup.
She finds Jeff and Jordan in the Have-Not room again, making small talk and avoiding the fight like the plague and she slips out of her hoodie and her pants, down to just her t-shirt and underwear, while she listens to them talk about spiders or something totally irrelevant to the game. It’s almost comforting.
“Hey,” Jeff says, and at first she thinks it’s a delayed greeting, before she realizes that was far from a natural break in their conversation.
So she comes a little closer to where they sit and asks, “What?”
“Jessie finger-fucks Lydia,” he says, right the hell out of nowhere, and she can’t lie and say that the bluntness of the statement doesn’t completely take her aback. “Apparently.”
At first she doesn’t know why he tells her this, before she gets as good a look at him as she can in the dark room. Then she realizes that he’s trying to say that maybe what they’re doing isn’t so bad, as compared to whatever messed up love triangle is brewing between Jessie and Lydia and Natalie. At least they were loyal.
“Douchebag,” she mutters, the comment aimed at Jessie, a second before she kisses him.
In the background, Jordan laughs.
Fandom: Big Brother 11
Characters/Pairings: Jeff/Jordan/Laura
Rating: R
Word Count: 1,351
Author's Note: Written for fox1013. And yes, I know this is wrong on many levels. Relies on some knowledge of livefeed conversations.
Summary: Set during Week 2. They're the popular girls and he's the athlete and it just all makes perfect, poetic sense.
It’s all about the cliques.
They’re the popular girls and he’s the athlete in the sort of all-American, football playing, hot but only sort of knows it, way that the others just aren’t. Laura has girlfriends back home that would take one look at this situation and give her a “what are you waiting for” coupled with raised eyebrows, and she takes that sentiment and runs with it.
Later, Jeff will claim it was only “that one time”, which is only to say that was the only time he got inside of either of them. Like he can negate the time he walked in on her and Jordan making out in the Have-Not room and promptly joined in, or the time she gave him a handjob in the green room, or the time he went down on Jordan in the bathroom, on something as simple as a technicality.
That’s not the way it works.
---
Friday evening finds her and Jeff nominated, and Laura does the half-angry, half-crying thing and is pretty much only okay with the first half. She hates crying, especially here, and Jordan hugs her and says the same thing everyone says because it’s all she knows. Things like “there’s always the POV” and “it’s still early - three days from now things could be completely different”. No matter; Laura has this gut feeling like it’s all downhill from here and she might as well get something out of this ordeal.
Jeff’s there minutes later, and she watches him slide an arm around Jordan’s waist as he comes to sit behind her, and she fights back an eye roll and a crack about showmances, instead choosing to say, “At least I’ve got good company up there with me.”
He smiles; it makes her feel warm and jealous at the same time.
Jordan is the first back out the door, something about checking out the cantaloupe in the storage room, because the girl eats all the time, and Jeff rises at the same time as Laura does, in time with the closing of the door behind Jordan.
“This fucking sucks,” he says, abandoning any form of optimism that he might have at least been acting like he possessed, and she nods her agreement. And maybe it’s instinct or commiseration or whatever but she reaches for him just as she’s about to pass him, hands clamping onto strong shoulders, and it’s a quick hug but it’s still a hug that lasts half a second too long before she’s gone out the door too.
That night, he walks in on her showing Jordan this thing to do with your tongue that she learned in Cosmo. And then asks for her to show him when she’s done with Jordan. It would almost make this all his fault, if she hadn’t crawled over to him so eagerly, satisfaction and anticipation running through her veins.
---
The steak dinner bet ends up between them just keeps on growing.
“So I’ve got to take you out to dinner if I win,” he says, like he’s trying to get it straight in his head, flicking his gaze over to Jordan whose sprawled out between them in the spa room, “and I’ve got to take you to Fiji.”
Laura shifts up onto her elbows, her hair falling in such a way that the ends of it graze Jordan’s shoulder. She giggles, drawing brief looks from both of them, before Laura says, “Or you could take us both to Fiji. And dinner.”
It sounds like a come on, the way she almost purrs it, and it’s intentional. Jordan’s still laughing, but now it’s less because she’s being accidentally tickled and more because she’s amused.
Jeff raises an eyebrow, “Any more demands?”
“Depends on if I make it through this week or not,” she replies, just before she leans down to press her lips to Jordan’s, to get her stop laughing. It only makes it worse. If she feels Jeff’s hand just touch the top of her head, his fingers in her hair for a second, she doesn’t show it on her face when she lays back down. She’s had her poker face on for some time now.
“You two are too much,” Jordan says, somewhere in that laughing fit of hers, right before Jeff’s hands slip along that strip of skin between her shorts and her t-shirt, tickling her, and she arches beneath his fingertips, and that beat of awkwardness leaves in a flash.
It still reinforces what she already knows: it’s always going to be the two of them, that’s something that she can’t break, doesn’t even want to. But it’s also something that she desperately wants to be a part of.
---
That “one time” happens after veto. It’s both a celebration and a cry of defeat.
Jordan’s going up anyways; nobody wins here. Not on their team.
---
“Goldfish memory,” she shoots back at him, when he first starts up with the “it was only that one time and it’s not like we planned on it and it’s not like it’ll ever happen again” crap.
“Goldfish?” Jordan says, with a start, like it’s the first thing she’s actually heard out of this conversation. Laura wouldn’t be surprised. Sometimes she gets this dazed look, like she’s off in her own world, and Laura’s pretty sure everything said during that time just flies right over her head. “What do goldfish have to do with anything?”
Surprisingly, Jeff answers for her, “They’re supposed to have like eight second memories or something.”
Laura and Jordan balk for different reasons, and Laura takes the opportunity to voice hers first. “You know the goldfish memory thing, but you still spelled technotronics? Wow.”
“Is anyone ever going to let that go?”
“No,” her and Jordan say, at the exact same time, twin smiles on both of their faces.
It’s silent for a moment, and Laura slumps against the wall, readjusting Jordan’s legs in her lap, her head in Jeff’s, like they’re sharing her, and they sort of are. Or were. “It’s a myth anyway,” she adds, after it’s been a beat too long for anyone to connect that to her earlier statement.
“What’s a myth?”
“The goldfish thing,” she elaborates. “I think they disproved it.”
“Then why did you say it?” Jeff asks.
She shrugs, her hands tangling in Jordan’s hair, idly. “I don’t know, it’s just the first thing I thought of.” His eyes are on her, she can feel them, but she purposely doesn’t return his gaze. “Can’t have too much truth in this house.”
It’s a shot at him. She doesn’t need anything but the way he tears his eyes away, looking down at Jordan, to know that he understands that.
---
No one lays a slightly inappropriate or suggestive hand on anyone else again, at least not to her knowledge, until after the Ronnie blowup.
She finds Jeff and Jordan in the Have-Not room again, making small talk and avoiding the fight like the plague and she slips out of her hoodie and her pants, down to just her t-shirt and underwear, while she listens to them talk about spiders or something totally irrelevant to the game. It’s almost comforting.
“Hey,” Jeff says, and at first she thinks it’s a delayed greeting, before she realizes that was far from a natural break in their conversation.
So she comes a little closer to where they sit and asks, “What?”
“Jessie finger-fucks Lydia,” he says, right the hell out of nowhere, and she can’t lie and say that the bluntness of the statement doesn’t completely take her aback. “Apparently.”
At first she doesn’t know why he tells her this, before she gets as good a look at him as she can in the dark room. Then she realizes that he’s trying to say that maybe what they’re doing isn’t so bad, as compared to whatever messed up love triangle is brewing between Jessie and Lydia and Natalie. At least they were loyal.
“Douchebag,” she mutters, the comment aimed at Jessie, a second before she kisses him.
In the background, Jordan laughs.