#jackson: 01

[fabulousbitchfabi]

“What.  The.  Fuck.”

Silence reigned for a solid sixty seconds before FaBi found her words again.  “Oh helllllll no.  Fuck this, fuck whoever did this, and for fuck’s fucking sake.”  A gag came up her throat unbidden, shortly followed by another one as she stumbled away from the horror show that had become the men’s room.  A regular had warned her that someone had utterly destroyed the restroom, but she hadn’t been expecting anything nearly this bad.  “They do not pay me nearly enough to deal with this literal fucking shit.  Antonio!” came the near banshee like screech towards security as she backed away, gagging again as she promptly backed into another patron.

“Do not.  Go past this point.  Not if you value your fucking sense of smell or want to sleep tonight.  Take a deuce at the restaurant next door if you have to, or piss in the fucking bushes, just do not go in there.  ANTONIO!” came the louder cry to be heard over the thumping music.

@owenxjackson​

[baudos-blog]

from her angle, the sunlight threw shadows across jackson’s face underneath his cheekbones. his mouth looked extremely unkissed, and lancy hadn’t decided if that was a problem she’d like to fix before the official lunch menu started. a pot of lilies stat between them, the feverish reds and oranges complimentary to her tan, next to two lists with brunch specials printed in neat black indian letters, and a jug of water lancy had ordered beforehand, always the polite hostess. or, always the polite, accommodating hostess when she wanted something. reaching for his glass, lancy poured jackson a neat measure of water and finished it off with a cucumber slice, offering him a vote for me smile. “ i have a proposition for you, ” she said, placing the water in front of him, as if she wasn’t setting up some sort of elaborate bear trap. given lancy’s reputation, it wouldn’t be completely out of reason for him to suspect she’d tampered with his glass. 

because, the fact was, lancy and jackson were not the type of friends who went out for brunch. they were the type who found glory in the isle of a twenty four hour convenience store or one of the bathrooms, the big hand on the clock-face making it’s way past two, and then three, each of them well of their way to making another mistake. lancy could see the defined lines on jackson’s jaw where she had wanted to press the sun into his skin in the form of kisses, burning and feverish, and she could promise him now, without prompting, that he’d been sculpted by lightening, and it was her hands --- and only hers --- that could hold onto him without burning. so, no, brunch wasn’t their usual thing. except here they were, now, changing the rules. “ and i really hope you say yes. ”

@nahjackson