"Nah." I give my new plane friend another brandishing of teeth, matching her wry tone. "It was an evil lab."
Annie lets out a short tinkle of laughter at what she thinks is a ridiculous response. She offers me one last genuine smile before moving away to serve someone else.
In a surprising show of tact, Jack lets Annie get far enough away that she won't hear him when he starts up with the accusations, "What did I say about getting that dick under control?"
He's four chocolate bars deep in his pile of treats already, the empty wrappers dropped carelessly into his lap. He still has quite a haul left on the tray. I won't dare try and take one, though. Last time I attempted a small-time dairy-milk heist, he practically broke my wrist slapping my hand away.
"If I make a joke about snakes on a plane, will you still love me tomorrow?" I croon at Jack, blinking at him rapidly with the puppy eyes I know piss him off.
Jack appears severely unimpressed by this, lips flattened out into a harsh line and eyes filled with scorn. "Good chance you won't get to see tomorrow if you keep batting your eyes at me like a demented camel and flirting with pretty flight attendants."
I give him an arch look in return. "Okay, now you're being dramatic. There's only been one flight attendant, and she thinks we're boyfriends now. I'm sure she'll tell all the other flight attendants, so they'll know not to offer me drinks or smile at me or do any other fiendish things deemed unacceptable by you."
Jack glowers at the word “boyfriend,” which amuses me greatly. He seems more unsettled than annoyed, though, like he doesn't mind being called my boyfriend, so much as he takes umbrage with being called a “boyfriend” at all.
It's a sharp reminder that Jack has likely never been in any romantic relationship other than the fake ones OI would have pushed him into playing the part for. He wouldn’t have grown up thinking he could have a future with anyone he fell in love with. He wouldn't have grown up watching Disney films and romcoms filled with happily ever afters; he wouldn’t have thought maybe, he could have some better, imperfect version of that one day.
I'm not exactly a fairy-tale prince myself, but at least I know what it feels like to be real with another person, to want more and secretly hope for everything we're all meant to think only happens in stories.
There's a chance Jack might not be interested in romantic relationships, might have never been, regardless of how he spent the first two decades of his life. I mean, aro people exist. It’s also a thing to not want to be in long-term relationships for perfectly good, healthy reasons.
But somehow, with what I know about Jack now, I can't help but imagine having met him under different circumstances. If there were no OI or Liquid Onyx. If Jack were just a man with a bad attitude and lovely pale-green eyes and killer kissing skills. A man with hopes and wants that might match up with my own.
"Youflirted," Jack insists, abruptly cutting my musings off at the pass.
"Yes." I gesture at his dragon pile of chocolate gold. "But only to procureyouall the sugar your black little heart desires."
Jack makes a show out of looking shocked by my admission, widening his eyes and giving a little huff of dismay.
"You abused poor Annie's good nature in my name?" He gives his head a slow, judgmental shake. "Wow, Snow. We might make a government shill out of you yet."
"Mean." I gasp sarcastically, pretending to fall back in my seat, elbow bumping up against the plane window and probably startling the people behind us. "You're somean."
"You act like a manipulative little slag." Jack shrugs uncaringly. "You get what you deserve."
He uses such a prim tone of voice, it kicks a loud bark of laughter out of me. I have to press my lips together so I won't further disrupt the people around us with peals of childish snickering.
"Can I have a chocolate bar, partner?" I ask, already reaching to take one.
I should know better than that by now.
Jack all but karate chops my grasping hand in rebuke. "Fuck off, no." He growls at me like a grizzly bear protecting his hard-earned collection of fish. "Go swindle more out of your mile-high-club girlfriend." He jerks his chin in Annie's direction.
Supremely offended, holding my hand to my chest protectively, I make to get up to do just that. "Alright, Kitty, I will. Be back in a sec … maybe." I waggle my eyebrows at him, teasing.
Jack falls for it like I knew he would, reacting with his superhuman reflexes to grab hold of my jacket and yank me back down into my seat. Once I'm safely neutralised and half sprawled in my chair, he picks up a chocolate bar and slaps it into my chest.
"There. Leave Annie alone," Jack bites out at me. "She doesn't get paid enough to deal with you." He releases a contemptuous scoff. "Neither do I, quite frankly, but that can't be helped."
I catch the chocolate bar before it falls into my lap and open it up with quick hands, unwilling to risk my good fortune. Jack does not like to share the few indulgences he seems to have developed over the years. It's understandable behaviour for him given everything he had to deal with when OI had him, but sometimes his vehemence towards such seemingly small things still catches me off guard.
I offered to give him a haircut the other day when he kept getting annoyed with his fringe and scrubbing it back in obvious irritation, thinking maybe he would prefer it short, like it was when we first met. But Jack practically snarled at me to piss off and not come near his hair with a blade unless I wanted that very same blade to be shoved up my arse. He wasn't joking either. True fury exploded across his face like fireworks, along with more than a few sparks of fear.
His viscerally hostile reaction made it clear he's sensitive about having his hair cut for whatever reason, and there have been loads of shit like that I've had to learn to be careful about over the last month. When it comes to dealing with my temperamental, and undeniably traumatised, partner, there's so much going on beneath the surface that I don't know the origin of.
"You getpaid?" I ask in mock scepticism. "With what? Freedom miles? Every mission earns you a day outside in the … well, not the sun if we're home, but there's at least unfiltered oxygen and trees and shit."
"Nope. Your aunt agreed to hand over virtual doubloons from the British-government vault," Jack replies smugly whilst biting chunks out of a defenceless chocolate bar. "I've got a bank account and everything."
