Opened Eyes and Yellow Bellies

Jack was finding she truly did not know the answer to this question. Usually, she could come up with something. She was typically a very good improviser, so nothing ever felt too horribly out of reach for her, nothing felt so far from the scope of what she was certain of. There was always some plan brewing under her, some last ditch effort, some certainty that she could fall back onto. But here she was, with no clue, sincerely asking Max to guide her into what was going to happen next. Because certainly he was better at this whole caring for another person that she was.

He spoke and his smile tempted one out of her too. Continuing on just as they had before was exactly why this conversation had ever even taken place. They had both wanted to continue on with the carpooling and the work lunches and the joint babysitting and the Falmouth fanhood, and bad movies. Hadn't that been why she had embarked on this dangerous topic in the first place? Of course that was what she wanted next. Of course.

But...

Things were going to change. And she had learned long ago that fear of change often meant things stopped happening for you. She wanted all of that, yes. But things were going to change... But it wasn't going to be worse. It was going to be all of that... plus. That's what she wanted. Jack wanted more.

Not a lot, mind. She was knew to this. But that kiss had been more. And more was very nice.

She cleared her throat, looking down to run her hand across her file, smoothing it down. "I'd really like that," she said. "Um... I've only told... that... to one other person before. And it was scary. And afterwards, I was just so relieved to have said it that... that was it. And I guess... I dunno."

Why was this so embarrassing?

"I guess it would be nice if saying it and doing that wasn't it." She squinted at him. So confused.

For a moment Max was completely lost. It and that weren't terribly specific and it was only as he registered her broken phrasing (she really sounded like him) and uncomfortable expression that put context to the words. What was able to make Jack this awkward? Apparently the same thing that made Max squirm. Love and kisses. For Jack it was the feelings that made her falter and for Max it was the physical.

Just because the kiss, this, was all new territory for Max didn't mean it was unwelcome. It was just.. different. "Good, I mean, um.. I don't what that to be it either." Max was shifting ever so slightly again, just enough that the sheets crinkled under him.

He was feeling a bit like he had the first night they had stayed together. Their wedding night had been spent on opposite edges of the bed, any accidental bump of the new bedmate an electric shock. After a year of sharing the room almost all discomfort had vanished from their night rituals. There was purposeful kicking, stealing of blankets, and accidental cuddling on more than one occasion. Now Max was back to being overly conscious of the space his body filled in the bed, all too aware of how close or far away his limbs were from hers.

She had kissed him. She might even want to kiss him again. And that fact couldn't help but be ever-present in Max's mind as he surveyed their limited space.

"I guess.." Jack's discomfort was somehow a slight relief to the Hufflepuff man. Although he still felt like a clueless fool, her reactions made him feel like ever-so-slightly less of one. "I just.. I'm not used to this.. it.. that.." Max looked up to meet Jack's eyes, his own suddenly wide and unexpectedly nervous. "Can you be patient with me?"

Jack felt weird. She felt really freaking weird. When did she lose the ability to communicate? To string words together? How... to... words...

It had been a very, very long time since Jack had felt any sort of emotional complication. Emotional in that it ACTUALLY had something to do with how she felt about feelings. This wasn't how she felt about the Ministry of Magic, about the Order of the Phoenix, about werewolves and poltergeists and vampires and muggleborns, and about ancient spells, and puzzle boxes...

No, feelings about how she felt when she heard Max come in after a long day. Feelings about how his macaroni and cheese was always better than hers. Feelings about how the way he looked at the kids. Feelings about how she felt when he was sat between the kids, completely at their will. Feelings about the moment before she fell asleep and she realize he was right next to her, breathing steadily because he was just steady.

Jack might have been a storm, but he was the pillar. He withstood. He kept her coming home.

Patient. Her face practically burst as she let out the air she was holding in, and a relieved laugh puttered out of her mouth. She reached up and rubbed the side of her face, nodding. "Yeah, as long as you don't laugh at me. I have zero idea about how any of this works."

"Yeah, as long as you don't laugh at me. I have zero idea about how any of this works."

Max mirrored her laugh - nervous, unsure, and somehow still sweet. She had no idea how true the sentiment was for both of them. Over the last two years he had gone from being genuinely afraid of Jack Dyllan to cautiously amused to distantly affectionate and eventually to completely reliant. Through these phases he had gradually come to know her ins and outs, her routines and quirks, how she thought and responded to situations. But this.. all of this.. Jack was throwing him curveball after curveball.

"I think that makes two of us."

A year ago Max might have been scared that his strange behavior was due to imperio or some similar spell but something about the shakiness of her gaze was so reminiscent of his own that he couldn't help but believe that she was being genuine. Through everything from the Eis affair to boggarts she had been scared with a certain Jack-confidence. A look of 'I might be going down but it won't be without a fight' that she wore so well. Now, for what was quite possibly the first time, Jack looked as uncertain and scared as he did. And it was.. over him.

Max wasn't sure what to think about that but he felt a definitely warmth in his chest as he looked across the pillows and sheets at her. It's was really sinking in now: Jack Dyllan liked him. Like, like liked him. She had said she loved him and not even just in a family/friend way. Like, love loved him. He couldn't pretend to understand how this had happened but it was certainly not something to complain about.

For the first time since she had pulled out the envelope, Max was feeling comfortable. His posture was relaxing and his fingers began to twist the bedsheet, now out of lazy habit rather than nerves. Max leaned back to his normal nighttime position for reading on the pillows but instead of pulling out his book he let his thoughts drift as he looked out into their room. Out of the corner of his eye, Max saw his the blob of red hair shift as Jack's attention moved back to her file.

The longer Max sat still the more something began nagging at the back of his mind. A guilt was emerging the longer his brain danced over their conversation. Now that the shock of the moment had worn off, Max could readily admit that this whole series of events really was his fault because he hadn't been open with her. Would Max have not had a similar reaction if he saw Jack out and about with someone along the lines of Greyback or Potter? Truthfully, any handsome chap might have been enough to push him towards leaving. (Probably nothing as dramatic as divorce papers, but offering her an out none the less.)

"Hey, Jack?" He turned to interrupt her work yet again, pausing slightly before continuing. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you about Daisy."

With her small outburst of relief, and his assurance that he was on the same page, she felt herself relaxing. The breath filled her lungs and evacuated, leaving only crisp, clean air within her. She was fairly sure the worry was etched into the creases of her already worried skin, but her shoulders were no longer so tense, her arms were not taut as though ready to swing a punch - apparently that was a reflex for her where romance was concerned.

Having her work in front of her was comforting. She was good at work. She did her job well, and people would never dare question her abilities. It was like that at the Ministry, in the pitch, in the general public, among the different factions - hell, Aaron Marcheti couldn't help but respect her and understand that she was to be taken seriously, despite the many reasons he had to hate her, because he knew she was good at what she did.

This... whole... thing.... She wasn't good at this.

He spoke again and Jack looked up at him, and suddenly.. she felt like a right ass.

Yeah, he hadn't told her about Daisy. But had she told him that she owned Satan's? And why she owned it?

Oh, Merlin. She really wasn't good at this.

She shook her head. "No, it's fine. I was being stupid. Looking for any excuse to blow up or panic or something. Forget it."

Max reached up and scratched at his temple, taking a moment to think carefully about his choice of words. In this calm after the storm he wanted to be clear. At this moment he couldn't imagine anything worse than tripping over his tongue and sending things crashing down again. Max was graciously ignoring Jack's attempt to brush his comment off.. He needed to say it, or at least try to. 

"But I should have told you." Max lightly insisted. His hand dropped back down to his side as he looked over to meet Jack's eyes, an ernest attempt to plead the sincerity of his words. 

"I mean, if you can't go to your family with the tough stuff, who can you turn to? I trust you." 

While Jack knew a thousand little things about Max's life there were a thousand more than were a mystery. There were moments that he was embarrassed of, regretted, or found too sad to think about. But there were also moments of pure joy and comedy, just as important to who he was, if not more so. He was feeling the sudden urge to spill them all - describe every family vacation and broken bone - but knew this wasn't the time or place. 

Hopefully they would have their whole lives for that. 

Someday, whether it be tonight, next week, or six months from now, Max promised himself that he would take the time to tell the most important story properly. Daisy Rood was not a girl who could be brushed off lightly in a couple of sentences. And she would never be erased from his life either. 

Oddly,  Max was glad that the cards had been dealt in this particular way. If the law hadn't been repealed today than she would never have found him at the hospital, never brought home divorce papers, they would have never fought, and Jack would certainly never have kissed him. If it had happened on any other day they may have remained married but they would never have had the chance to be anything more.