Tug of War; (John/Jenna, T).
Title: Tug of War
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Pairing: Jenna/John
Rating: T
Spoilers: anything until “The House Guest” (2x16)
Word count: 676
Written for: The Vampire Diaries Comment Ficathon prompt “Fine Lines” by simply_aly
~*~
It’s always been like this for her; a tug in this direction, a tug in that direction, and before she knows it she’s roped into something she’s completely unprepared for-perhaps even somewhat adverse to.
With Elena and Jeremy, it was the former (and only the former). She loved her sister and she loves these kids (if you can really refer to them as such anymore). But she was as far from a prepared parental figure as it got with her pot hazed all nighters and her affinity for nacho and cheese dip dinners. In the end, she’s sure it could have turned out much, much worse for the three of them (although the words lax and negligent echo far too loudly in her ears).
But then there’s the odd “roped into accommodating John” type scenario-the kind she is both unprepared for and fiercely adverse to because the guy happens to be the living breathing definition of words such as “prick” and “ass.”
And so, no, the sight of him cradling a glass of wine in his involuntary solitude doesn’t tug at her heartstrings, not in the slightest.
“Heard you and Ric ended things, is that right?” He calls to her deliberately turned back as she’s grabbing a late night snack from the fridge.
“You heard, or you spied,” she nearly spat, knows the bastard must have listened in to her very private conversation.
“Either or, the facts remain the same.”
It’s then that she finally turns to him, fuming and prepared to toss the cheesecake she just pulled out right at his oversized head.
“Your business John? Mind it, and stay the hell out of mine.”
And with that, she slams the fridge shut, mouth set and eyes shooting daggers at anything and everything.
“You made the right decision,” he tells her softly, and it grates on her more than anything else because God knows she’s all about those.
Before she knows it they’re face to face, not a thing but the kitchen counter separating them and it’s all her doing.
“Here, why don’t I make another one?” She looks him straight in the eye, wide and unforgiving. “Pack your bags and get the hell out of this house. Elena doesn’t want you here, Jeremy doesn’t want you here, and I sure as hell don’t want you here. So do us all a favour and get out.”
There’s no indication, not from looking at him, that she has just vocalized the fact that not one member of his remaining family can stand the sight of him; and for a second she wonders if he even heard her, if he even cares.
“That’s not true.”
“Really?” She scoffs. “Because Elena would beg to-“
“It’s not true that you don’t want me here Jenna and we both know it.”
She laughs at him, actually out and out laughs because she hates this man’s guts-him and every other world class douche bag she’s given the time of day. She’s sure of it. She must.
But the way his good hand is reaching for her cheek suggests that he’s just as sure.
She does nothing as his fingers glide across the surface of her skin (wonders briefly if this is really his first glass of wine). She’s stock still, glaring the expected daggers while her insides are doing the funniest of things-things she’s all too familiar with. Things she would rather not associate with John Gilbert ever, ever again.
Her mind made up, she slaps his hand away, harsh and abrupt and final.
“Even if I was looking for a quick rebound John, I sure as hell wouldn’t consider you,” she spits her venom and takes her leave-doesn’t wait to see his reaction (doesn’t care).
But even as she makes her way up the stairs, the distance between them as safe as it gets, she can feel the ghost of his fingers on her skin-can’t rid herself of the knowledge that the smallest tug would have pulled her across a very dangerous line.
~*~