An exercise in good manners
I've been pottering about for a couple of days, trying to write a JJ fic I'm happy with. And I'm now at a point (argh) where I can't tell whether this works or not. So I'm throwing it out there, any constructive criticism both VALUED and SUPER-HELPFUL. Do not expect anything to actually happen here, just a conversation between JJ and Naomi post loveball. If it works I'll probably continue do a sequel to this, as I love me some awkward situations.
19 days after the LoveBall Naomi turned up on his doorstep. She was wearing blue shoes, yellow tights, a green skirt and a messy shirt that was too big for her. Bristol was misty with rain, and her hair was quite wet, her natural hair colour showing up close to her skull. JJ was uncertain about the average girl’s view on hair dye growing out. He knew these were called roots, and from what he had gathered, to some girls these were abhorrent. Why, he was uncertain, but the many over-heard conversations had indicated a firm stance.
However, often girls seemed to talk about the ‘natural’ look, which was where famous women didn’t change their appearance. Instead they had embraced their curves, and discovered their inner beauty. And this was also apparently laudable. Maybe this is what Naomi was doing, to impress the people who liked inner-beauty. However, Naomi did not seem to care what other people thought. She was often quite rude, and JJ had noticed that this was usually on purpose. She didn’t laugh either, like Cook did when he was being deliberately rude, which made JJ think that Naomi didn’t like being rude to people, but felt compelled to do it. Just like JJ didn’t enjoy stuttering, but did it anyway.
It was still raining. JJ realised that he had not spoken to Naomi alone before, and so couldn’t understand what she was doing on his doorstep. He then suddenly noticed that he was talking. JJ couldn’t remember what he had been talking about, and panicked that he may have been saying his thoughts out loud, just like he’d done all the time when he was small and not on the correct meds.
“JJ. Stop psychoanalysing me. My roots are showing because I can’t afford the hairdresser right now. And I’m rude because people sometimes deserve it.”
And now JJ was thoroughly locked on, because he’d just called Naomi rude out loud, which meant she would probably be rude to him for the rest of time. Getting locked on around people who didn’t like him much always ended in disaster, his counsellor said this was because his Id rose to the surface and took over his vocal chords. Bollocks bollocks bollocks snap out of it. Naomi was watching him, not helping at all. He needed distracting, like Emily had done automatically.
“Is Emily with you? Maybe she could show me her breasts again.”
Instantly, instantly, JJ knew this wasn’t a very smart thing to say, and the fear stopped him, clamped down on the bubble of words rising in his chest.
Naomi blinked, slowly. JJ was usually slightly scared of Naomi because her face gave nothing away, apart from the regular mild irritation. At this moment JJ wondered whether Naomi knew he was scared of blank expressions, as he’d seen more expressive statues. Maybe he could just shut the door and pretend she wasn’t there.
Naomi flexed the fingers on her hands once, twice, three times, and then pushed past him, walked into his house. She shouldn’t do that, because this was his safe place and he couldn’t have Naomi stomping around his safe place. However, he had slept with Emily, and Naomi seemed to think he shouldn’t have done that either. Relationships were complicated, and lesbian ones appeared doubly so. JJ would have happily given at least two of his fingers on his left hand for a do’s and don’ts guide on matters of the heart.
Naomi sounded like she was filling up the kettle, which would have sent JJ’s train of thought spiralling down another mineshaft of etiquette rules, had he not got a grip on himself, and stalked down the corridor after her.
...
His kitchen was the biggest room in the house, in square feet. In cubic volume that would be the hall corridor, and the stairs. But on a practical note, the kitchen was biggest.
JJ felt like he was squeezed into the cutlery draw with Naomi. She seemed to have sucked all the freedom out of the room, made it all pocket sized and horribly intimate. He called her rude, he’d asked to see her girlfriend’s breasts (again) and now she wasn’t leaving. Naomi had made a cup of tea, by rooting through all of his mum’s cupboards until she found things, whilst JJ had stood in the door frame. Then she’d plonked it down on the table, spilling some of it in the process. JJ wanted to clean it up, but Naomi was staring at him from a kitchen chair with alarming eyes, and when she kicked out the chair opposite her JJ had no choice but to sit.
JJ eyed the cup of tea nervously. Was it his? Should he drink it? He didn’t like tea much, but he was certain it would be rude not to drink it. But what if it was Naomi’s? It was closer to him, but why would Naomi make him a cup of tea just after he had asked to see Emily’s breasts? Naomi was still staring at him, invading his space. JJ gripped the edge of the table, felt like an unwelcome guest in his own kitchen
“The tea is for you JJ. And I’m not angry.”
JJ reached a hesitant hand out for the mug of tea, grateful to have something else to focus on.
“Good. Excellent. I was concerned you would be angry, as I’m almost certain talking about Emily’s breasts is not something you appreciate me doing. Furthermore, I was unsure as to whether the tea was yours or mine, and I didn’t want to drink your tea, particularly if you already angry at me for my previous transgression.”
JJ trailed off, sipped his tea quietly, and tried to look at anything other than Naomi. He was certain she was lying about not being angry. Naomi was usually angry. However, maybe she meant she wasn’t going to act on her anger. JJ breathed in deeply through his nose, tried to put a learned calming technique into practice. Naomi shifted forward, tapped on the table in front of JJ.
“Firstly, JJ, leave the breast talk please. Even if it is, I dunno, topical, never let me hear you discussing her tits again.”
JJ nodded hastily, briefly wondering if it that meant he could discuss Emily’s breasts with third parties, but just not with Naomi. The look on Naomi’s face made him swallow the question.
Naomi wanted something. And JJ could sense that it wasn’t going to be something he’d enjoy. But he also knew that on Naomi’s mental scorecard, he owed her one and things were at a point that JJ would have agreed to anything she needed just so he could relax when he was around her. JJ groaned, and put his head down on the cold table top.
“What do you need?”
“She needs a boyfriend, who will go round now and then, pick her up to take her to the cinema etc, make occasional polite small talk with her parents. And who will not mention her girlfriend, or discuss her tits, or expect any kind of sexual encounter whatsoever.”
Wincing, JJ sat up again, met Naomi’s gaze willing for the first time.
“And if I do that you’ll stop making me feel guilty?”
Naomi raised her eyebrows, tucked a piece of hair behind her ear in a gesture that made her far more human.
“Alright. We’d be grateful, actually, if you did that.”
“Good!” JJ stood up forcefully, opened the cupboard above the kettle, reached inside. “Because, I quite like Emily, she is friendly and tries to help people, and seen as you now belong to her, I would also like to not fear for my life whenever I see you. Biscuit?”
Naomi smiled at him strangely, reached into the proffered biscuit tin. JJ solemnly dunked a Hobnob into his tea, and then watched the rain for a while out of the window. Gradually it dawned on him that Naomi was shivering, hair still wet from her journey over.
“I will make you a cup of tea. Making cups of tea is apparently something I am excellent at, my mum says I make a perfect cup of tea, which is a nonsensical statement as tea is a matter of individual taste, and therefore cannot be definitively perfect, however, I will make you a cup of tea that would be perfect for my mum.”
Naomi rested her chin on her hand and gazed at him like she was examining him.
“I can see why she likes you. You're very honest.”
JJ blinked happily, clicked the kettle on. He liked the idea of Emily liking him, liked the idea that they could be friends.
“Frankly, I do not fully understand why she likes you yet. I can only assume you are less angry when you are around her. However, you are very pretty, often funny, and you are a girl, which she has assured me she likes, so maybe that’s it.”
Naomi made a funny noise in her throat, which almost sounded like a laugh to JJ’s ears.
“One sugar please Jay.”
19 days after the LoveBall Naomi turned up on his doorstep. She was wearing blue shoes, yellow tights, a green skirt and a messy shirt that was too big for her. Bristol was misty with rain, and her hair was quite wet, her natural hair colour showing up close to her skull. JJ was uncertain about the average girl’s view on hair dye growing out. He knew these were called roots, and from what he had gathered, to some girls these were abhorrent. Why, he was uncertain, but the many over-heard conversations had indicated a firm stance.
However, often girls seemed to talk about the ‘natural’ look, which was where famous women didn’t change their appearance. Instead they had embraced their curves, and discovered their inner beauty. And this was also apparently laudable. Maybe this is what Naomi was doing, to impress the people who liked inner-beauty. However, Naomi did not seem to care what other people thought. She was often quite rude, and JJ had noticed that this was usually on purpose. She didn’t laugh either, like Cook did when he was being deliberately rude, which made JJ think that Naomi didn’t like being rude to people, but felt compelled to do it. Just like JJ didn’t enjoy stuttering, but did it anyway.
It was still raining. JJ realised that he had not spoken to Naomi alone before, and so couldn’t understand what she was doing on his doorstep. He then suddenly noticed that he was talking. JJ couldn’t remember what he had been talking about, and panicked that he may have been saying his thoughts out loud, just like he’d done all the time when he was small and not on the correct meds.
“JJ. Stop psychoanalysing me. My roots are showing because I can’t afford the hairdresser right now. And I’m rude because people sometimes deserve it.”
And now JJ was thoroughly locked on, because he’d just called Naomi rude out loud, which meant she would probably be rude to him for the rest of time. Getting locked on around people who didn’t like him much always ended in disaster, his counsellor said this was because his Id rose to the surface and took over his vocal chords. Bollocks bollocks bollocks snap out of it. Naomi was watching him, not helping at all. He needed distracting, like Emily had done automatically.
“Is Emily with you? Maybe she could show me her breasts again.”
Instantly, instantly, JJ knew this wasn’t a very smart thing to say, and the fear stopped him, clamped down on the bubble of words rising in his chest.
Naomi blinked, slowly. JJ was usually slightly scared of Naomi because her face gave nothing away, apart from the regular mild irritation. At this moment JJ wondered whether Naomi knew he was scared of blank expressions, as he’d seen more expressive statues. Maybe he could just shut the door and pretend she wasn’t there.
Naomi flexed the fingers on her hands once, twice, three times, and then pushed past him, walked into his house. She shouldn’t do that, because this was his safe place and he couldn’t have Naomi stomping around his safe place. However, he had slept with Emily, and Naomi seemed to think he shouldn’t have done that either. Relationships were complicated, and lesbian ones appeared doubly so. JJ would have happily given at least two of his fingers on his left hand for a do’s and don’ts guide on matters of the heart.
Naomi sounded like she was filling up the kettle, which would have sent JJ’s train of thought spiralling down another mineshaft of etiquette rules, had he not got a grip on himself, and stalked down the corridor after her.
...
His kitchen was the biggest room in the house, in square feet. In cubic volume that would be the hall corridor, and the stairs. But on a practical note, the kitchen was biggest.
JJ felt like he was squeezed into the cutlery draw with Naomi. She seemed to have sucked all the freedom out of the room, made it all pocket sized and horribly intimate. He called her rude, he’d asked to see her girlfriend’s breasts (again) and now she wasn’t leaving. Naomi had made a cup of tea, by rooting through all of his mum’s cupboards until she found things, whilst JJ had stood in the door frame. Then she’d plonked it down on the table, spilling some of it in the process. JJ wanted to clean it up, but Naomi was staring at him from a kitchen chair with alarming eyes, and when she kicked out the chair opposite her JJ had no choice but to sit.
JJ eyed the cup of tea nervously. Was it his? Should he drink it? He didn’t like tea much, but he was certain it would be rude not to drink it. But what if it was Naomi’s? It was closer to him, but why would Naomi make him a cup of tea just after he had asked to see Emily’s breasts? Naomi was still staring at him, invading his space. JJ gripped the edge of the table, felt like an unwelcome guest in his own kitchen
“The tea is for you JJ. And I’m not angry.”
JJ reached a hesitant hand out for the mug of tea, grateful to have something else to focus on.
“Good. Excellent. I was concerned you would be angry, as I’m almost certain talking about Emily’s breasts is not something you appreciate me doing. Furthermore, I was unsure as to whether the tea was yours or mine, and I didn’t want to drink your tea, particularly if you already angry at me for my previous transgression.”
JJ trailed off, sipped his tea quietly, and tried to look at anything other than Naomi. He was certain she was lying about not being angry. Naomi was usually angry. However, maybe she meant she wasn’t going to act on her anger. JJ breathed in deeply through his nose, tried to put a learned calming technique into practice. Naomi shifted forward, tapped on the table in front of JJ.
“Firstly, JJ, leave the breast talk please. Even if it is, I dunno, topical, never let me hear you discussing her tits again.”
JJ nodded hastily, briefly wondering if it that meant he could discuss Emily’s breasts with third parties, but just not with Naomi. The look on Naomi’s face made him swallow the question.
Naomi wanted something. And JJ could sense that it wasn’t going to be something he’d enjoy. But he also knew that on Naomi’s mental scorecard, he owed her one and things were at a point that JJ would have agreed to anything she needed just so he could relax when he was around her. JJ groaned, and put his head down on the cold table top.
“What do you need?”
“She needs a boyfriend, who will go round now and then, pick her up to take her to the cinema etc, make occasional polite small talk with her parents. And who will not mention her girlfriend, or discuss her tits, or expect any kind of sexual encounter whatsoever.”
Wincing, JJ sat up again, met Naomi’s gaze willing for the first time.
“And if I do that you’ll stop making me feel guilty?”
Naomi raised her eyebrows, tucked a piece of hair behind her ear in a gesture that made her far more human.
“Alright. We’d be grateful, actually, if you did that.”
“Good!” JJ stood up forcefully, opened the cupboard above the kettle, reached inside. “Because, I quite like Emily, she is friendly and tries to help people, and seen as you now belong to her, I would also like to not fear for my life whenever I see you. Biscuit?”
Naomi smiled at him strangely, reached into the proffered biscuit tin. JJ solemnly dunked a Hobnob into his tea, and then watched the rain for a while out of the window. Gradually it dawned on him that Naomi was shivering, hair still wet from her journey over.
“I will make you a cup of tea. Making cups of tea is apparently something I am excellent at, my mum says I make a perfect cup of tea, which is a nonsensical statement as tea is a matter of individual taste, and therefore cannot be definitively perfect, however, I will make you a cup of tea that would be perfect for my mum.”
Naomi rested her chin on her hand and gazed at him like she was examining him.
“I can see why she likes you. You're very honest.”
JJ blinked happily, clicked the kettle on. He liked the idea of Emily liking him, liked the idea that they could be friends.
“Frankly, I do not fully understand why she likes you yet. I can only assume you are less angry when you are around her. However, you are very pretty, often funny, and you are a girl, which she has assured me she likes, so maybe that’s it.”
Naomi made a funny noise in her throat, which almost sounded like a laugh to JJ’s ears.
“One sugar please Jay.”