Cammie and Jake, Sunday afternoon (backdated)

[x-courier.livejournal.com]

Cammie and Jake make up, in that mostly not talking about it sort of way. Backdated to Sunday.



Jake drummed his fingers on the steering wheel nervously, his eyes scanning the grounds. So far, he hadn't seen anyone, which was more than fine with him; he certainly had no interest in being seen by anyone named Beaubier, nor was he really in the mood to talk to anyone but the person he was waiting for--and even still, he was tempted to just leave. He checked the box of donuts on the seat next to him, then looked up to find Cammie walking across the yard towards him.

Cammie leaned against the passenger's side door when she made it to the car and motioned for him to roll the window down. That being done she just looked in at him for a moment and down at the box of doughnuts. She had not been having a good last couple of days, "Okay, so is this where you shoot me?"

"I didn't bring my gun," he said seriously. They looked at each other for a moment before he broke and looked away. "Get in. Seriously. All I have are donuts and poison. I'd stay here, but...I'd rather go find some neutral ground, if we could." He smirked, although there wasn't any real humor behind it. "Unless you wanted to pat me down first?"

"You shoot me and you'd just be killing yourself too," Cammie said and opened the door, "And if you do manage to kill me, whatever. The ride's been... a ride. Just hope you brought a lot of leak proof plastic for my body."

"Nah, it's Sunday. I don't kill people on Sunday." He waited for her to get settled, then handed her the box and put the car into drive. He wasn't going to be able to relax until they were safely away from Xavier's. "There's a bottle of ammonia in the backseat, or if you'd rather, there's antifreeze in the trunk."

"I'll drink later," Cammie said, opening the box of doughnuts, "what flavors are these? And why the hell did you want to see me anyway?"

Jake shrugged. "One of them is chocolate covered bacon--I figured we had a good shot of at least one of us thinking it was any good. The rest are cake and bavarians; I thought maybe you could dunk them, or pour your poison on them or something."

He turned out onto the main road, trying to find the right words and hoping that the fact that they were in a moving vehicle would keep her from hitting him too hard. "I wanted to say I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I fucked up."

"Yeah, you did. And I maybe shouldn't have hit you," Cammie said. "I'm sure I'm on whatever death list you super spies keep, now."

"Yeah, it's one of the house rules--nobody gets to hit Jake but us," he said wryly. "Guess we'll have to go out and have our fights in bars now."

"That seems unfair. I'm sure there are plenty of people who want to hit you who aren't in your clubhouse," Cammie returned, "And I'm on probation, or something. At least I'm having a damn hard time sneaking out at night, so maybe we can rent jello mix for the pool and do it back there. It's late enough in the year that no one should care."

He laughed softly at that. "I'm going to have to look like a hot girl and wear a bikini for that, aren't I?"

"Duh," Cammie said, "I'm not hot girl bikini material myself, so one of us has to balance this out."

That brought a smirk to his face. He thought about pointing out that Cammie wasn't exactly ugly, but he was pretty sure she wouldn't want to hear it. Instead, he glanced over at her. "Hey. Truce? Or do you need me to take us someplace public so I can be pilloried first?"

"I think we can call a truce. You're not driving me somewhere to have someone else shoot me, are you?" Cammie asked. Just to be sure.

"I'm not driving you somewhere to have someone else shoot you. I'm on a budget now, and hired goons are expensive." Jake shook his head. "No, you're out of luck. Guess we'll just have to be friends."

"Yeah, I suppose so. Where the fuck are we going, anyway?" Cammie asked.

He shrugged. "Where do you want to go? Except Vermont. I don't think either of us wants to go back to Vermont."

"Vermont blows. It's all just cows, adopted parents and dead boyfriends," Cammie said, "So I don't know. Somewhere we can't kill each other when our backs are turned. So I suppose that also rules out any sort of mall. Maybe somewhere in New York where you don't live with a bunch of people who may want me dead now."

Jake turned off onto a side road so that he could turn around; New York was the other direction. "I think I know a place. And if you're nice to me, I'll even give you a ride home."

"And if you don't, I deserve to walk. And to be fair, I didn't expect to be taken out to dinner that night," Cammie said.

"Yeah? That's good. Because that...that really sucked. A lot." Jake paused long enough to point the car in the right direction. "In fact, it kind of felt like you two set that up on purpose."

"Don't look at me," Cammie stated, "My plan was to throw you two into a closet until a porno came out."

He snorted quietly at that, trying to ignore the sudden and unexpected pang her words evoked. "I think you underestimate Jean-Paul's ability to be a stubborn bastard, even when locked in a room with my stunning beauty."

"Yeah, but he hasn't been up against me in that way yet," Cammie returned.

Another snort. "That's what she said."

"She says a lot of things," Cammie said with a smirk.

"Yeah, she does." Jake smiled, but it faded quickly. "I'm going to talk to him. Or try, at least."

"Well, good luck. Sorry my way did nothing," Cammie said with a shrug.

Jake shrugged back. "Don't take this the wrong way, but maybe you shouldn't make any decisions when you're really pissed off."

"Hey, I'd take it farther than that. Whoever looked at me and said, 'Yep, free will: a great idea' should be shot," Cammie returned.

"You're not an idiot," he countered. "Just impulsive. There's a difference."

"Not much of one when the outcome's the same," Cammie pointed out, "Either way, you're not thinking."

"You think. Just not at the right time." He glanced at the box in her lap. "Are you going to hog all of those donuts for yourself?"

"Yeah, my brain is good at thinking after the fact," she said. It was generally at that point she wanted to hurt herself. She hugged the box to her, "Psh, duh. These doughnuts are mine now! ...And maybe yours. And you get the chocolate covered bacon. Seriously, what's wrong with you?"

"I didn't make them!" Jake protested, laughing. "And you drink poison but you're going to give me grief for one lousy donut? Please."

"Chocolate. Covered. Bacon," Cammie said, "I think it speaks for itself."

"You eat poison! People eat chocolate covered bacon all the time."

"Look, is it my fault that most people can't hold their arsenic? No," Cammie pointed out, grinning, "so your 'logic' has no effect on me."

"I'm just saying, you eat moldy, rotten food covered in poison," he laughed. "I'm not inclined to take any grief from you regarding my donutary choices. Besides, you're the one who lives in the town that has the crazy donut shop."

"And one day I'll find out what's behind Kyle and everyone randomly bringing me doughnuts from that place," she said, "And I'd say 'don't knock it 'till you've tried it' but most people aren't fond of food poisoning. So it boils down to personal preference. I'm just saying, when I think something is gross there's a real problem here."

"Fair enough. But don't get all bent out of shape because I tried to do something nice for you." He smirked. "I even went out of my way to buy you ammonia. I bet nobody's bought you ammonia recently."

"Nope. Nobody has. But I've been a bad girl, so I really don't deserve it. Generally people don't go around buying stuff for someone who slugged them in the face a few times," Cammie pointed out, "Which I do feel bad for. Even if no one's going to believe it."

"They're just donuts," he muttered awkwardly. "It's not like I got you anything special."

"At the risk of sounding sappy, yeah, you did," Cammie said, reaching in the box and thrusting the bacon-abomination towards Jake. "Here, have a doughnut."

He took it without thinking and was halfway through his first bite before realizing what it was. "Oh god," he said in revulsion, then blinked. "Actually, it's not half bad. Here, try it." He thrust the donut towards her without looking.

"God, no," Cammie said, pressing back into the seat to avoid the might of the Doughnut Arm, "It'll just taste like nothing anyway."

"If it tastes like nothing, what are you worried about? Seriously. It's not bad. Tryyyyy eeeeet," he wheedled in his best Jubilee impression.

"Sorry," Cammie said, "I'm not ready for the social stigma that comes from eating chocolate covered pig."

"I put up with the social stigma of hanging out with you!" he protested, dropping the offending donut back in the box and snagging a bavarian instead. The chocolate covered bacon one hadn't been gross, exactly...but it was kind of wrong, on a fundamental level.

"You don't have to. In fact, I think everyone would sort of be expecting you to run from me screaming like I set your hair on fire now," Cammie pointed out.

"Yeah, well, I don't like doing what people think I should," he muttered. "Besides, no one insults me like you do."

"You're just so wonderfully insultable," Cammie pointed out, "But hey, if you want to run away from me, you can even drop me off here and I'll walk while you drive away flailing like Kermit the Frog," she suggested. "Of course, I get to take the poison with me."

He shook his head. "No deal. I'm here for the poison."

Cammie raised an eyebrow, "You don't seem like the type to go around drinking ammonia and antifreeze," she said.

"Don't be silly," Jake replied, completely deadpan. "I'm selling you on the black market."

Cammie nodded, "Well, I suppose someone will make good use of me. I mean, as a science experiment. Pretty hard to give my organs to people, I'm sure."

He waved a hand dismissively. "Pfffft. Who said anything about giving them away? There are plenty of mad scientists out there who would pay top dollar for poison organs."

"Well, at least I'll be worth something in the end," Cammie returned sticking her tongue out at Jake, "I'd demand half the profits, but the whole 'dead' thing might get in the way."

"I'll make sure we put up a really nice headstone or something," he returned. "'Here lies Cammie. That explains the dead grass'."