94:Pucker Up

October 11

The Sunday matinee of Finding Neverland was as enjoyable for Jon as it was for the counselor.  However, it was a good thing he’d already seen the show, because he couldn’t have said what happened on that stage.  What had captivated him was the child-like wonder and delight on Chiara’s face.  From the minute the curtain went up until the final bows, her lawyer persona was no where in sight.  She was simply a gleeful little girl enjoying what she thought to be her birthday gift.

He was still thinking of how her eyes shone brighter than the house lights while they were en route to Tony’s house for his brother’s birthday pizza and beer bash.  It had kept him quiet for most of the ride and he was just starting to realize she hadn’t said anything either, when she spoke out of the blue.

“Sometimes I think I don’t deserve you.”

A laugh of surprise bubbled out of Jon as he glanced from the road to the passenger seat of the counselor’s Mustang.  

“Is that a new and creative way of calling me an asshole?”

“No,” she chastised with a gentle smile, stretching to settle a hand on his thigh while he drove.  “I mean it.  You’ve put up with so much crap from me since the very first day.  Part of me thinks you’re a glutton for punishment.”

“You’re the glutton for punishment.  Nobody can stand me when I’m sick.”

Yet she’d spent Thursday and Friday nights at his apartment taking care of him and his cold while Luke watched after Nana.   She’d babied Jon in a way he wasn’t accustomed to, but which he very much liked and appreciated.  Frankly, he could get used to it and her family remedies.

There was the God-awful Del Vecchio family concoction for chest congestion that had worked miracles in a short time.  In the meantime, she’d rubbed his head, back and even his damn feet to try and  as they watched all of the Godfather movies on Netflix.  Then, when his nose was too stuffy to breathe, she brewed a different concoction and Jon in a hot bath with it until his head was clear enough to breathe and think.

She was... amazing.

His major concern was that she’d end up sick, too, but the counselor assured him that her immune system was quite healthy, and took precautionary measures only at his insistence.  Her sleeping in the guest room and double-dosing vitamin C seemed to have kept the sniffling, sneezing and snotting at bay, and that was worth knowing she was in his house but not his bed.

Not that he would've done anything about it if she had been in his bed.  Jon felt so lousy, all he wanted to do was lie there like a slug.  Hell, he'd even bailed on her birthday dinner with the Del Vecchios last night, but was adamant that she not miss out because of his lame-ass cold.  

When she called to check on him from her brownstone afterward, he was glad he'd bullied her out the door.  Dinner with her family, a few art supplies and a vase full of flowers had her sounding light and happy, which was how he liked her best. 

“You’re no worse when you're sick than anybody else is,” Chiara told him now.  “It did me good to take care of you for a change.”

“I know another way you can take care of me tonight.”  His eyebrows waggled suggestively in case she missed the innuendo. 

It had taken him until today to feel normal again, but now that he did, Jon realized just how many days had passed since he was last between her legs. The brown cardigan she wore over her patterned dress tonight did nothing to distract him from how short it was, and thoughts of pushing it up around her waist only had him feeling the effects of abstinence that much more. 

“In fact,” he broached with the philosophy of nothing ventured, nothing gained.  “If you wanted to unzip me and wrap those pretty lips around my cock...  I'd let ya.”

“That's awfully generous." Her laughter was still novel enough to do weird things to him, like make him smile from the inside out.  "But not while you’re driving my car, buddy.”

“Can’t blame a horny guy for trying,” he chuckled, laying his hand over the one that was still resting on his thigh.  “I still want you.”

She flipped hers so that the heat of their palms came together and feminine fingers squeezed.  "I still want you, too.  Especially when you come up with such good birthday gifts.”

“You talkin’ about the play?  That wasn’t for your birthday, Counselor.  That was something I owed you.  If you need a reason to want me, do it because I haven’t asked how old you are."

It was just something to say so that she’d laugh again.  Reality was that he didn’t give a shit about her age.  Jon knew she was old enough to have college-age sons and younger than his mother, and anything other than that was just a number.

“You haven't asked because you're good with women,” she stated simply.  “But my age doesn’t bother me.  I’m forty-five today.”

So she was eight – almost nine – years his junior and younger than Tony, but older than Matt.  Another bit of Counselor trivia was tucked away in his mind. 

“Kinda nice you don’t have the age obsession that some women do.”  The remark was made as he guided the Mustang to the curb in front of Tony’s house.  Setting the emergency brake, he looked at her over his arm while turning off the engine and casually observed, “Besides... whatever age made you this beautiful is the perfect one.”

Her beaming grin was stuck to his lips before he realized she had moved.  “Best birthday present ever, and it didn’t cost you a dime.”

“That was the plan all along,” he chuckled as she twisted around to get Tony’s gift from the back seat. 

He hadn’t seen it yet, but she told him it was just a drawing of Lucas and M.J., much like the one she’d gifted Matt for his birthday.  In Jon’s experience thus far, none of the counselor’s artwork merited a “just”.  He was actually pissed that nobody had come to the studio lately, because it meant that no one had seen the astounding work she’d done in there.  They would tonight, though.  He had plenty of pictures on his phone to show off.

“Lilah sent me a text earlier that said to just walk on in,” Chiara said with her hand in his as they strolled up the front walk.  “I guess she’s ending up with more people than expected, and she didn’t want to bounce back and forth to the door all evening.  Everyone will be in the family room at the back of the house.”

“Works for me.” 

They scaled the wide steps side-by-side, and remained holding hands while walking across the farm-style house’s porch.  He didn’t release her until they stepped into the circle of the porchlight that chased away a dusk which was coming much earlier now that summer was gone.  The leaded glass door revealed that there were plenty of lights burning on the inside of the house, and Jon pushed it open to stand back so that the counselor could precede him.

The silky hair he loved so much swayed gently over her back as she stepped into the house, then bounced sharply when she jerked to a stop before fully crossing the threshold.  Spinning around prompted the curtain of mahogany to swing wide in the instant before Chiara put a hand in center of his chest.  She pushed against the gray v-neck sweater and walked him backward, not stopping until they were both back out on the porch with the door closed again.

“Jon.  There might be a problem.”

“What problem?”

She inhaled deeply with the palm of her hand still warming his chest as apprehensive eyes connected with his. “Tico is here.”

Tico, huh?  Jon didn’t see it as a problem, exactly, but it was unexpected.

Neither he nor Chiara had mentioned the Hit Man’s presence on her hit list since she joked about having plastic surgery so Tico wouldn’t recognize her.  Jon had seen no reason to, because he anticipated that his drummer friend might meet his girlfriend this soon.  Unfortunately, that also meant he also hadn't really thought about how it might go.

“Since we haven’t talked about this, I’m not sure how you feel about it," she said slowly.  "So I’ll make the simple offer to leave – either alone or with you.  Tell me what you want.”

The counselor inviting his direction was almost as unexpected as Tico's appearance here tonight.  It might even be a first.

“You typically have no trouble making your own decisions.”

Her eyes fluttered in a gesture of mild exasperation as she shook her head and staunchly declared,  “He’s a big part of your life, not mine, so I’ll do whatever makes this less awkward for you.  If that means never seeing or talking to him, I’m totally fine with it.”

Sincerity rang true in both her words and the depths of warm cocoa irises.  She was truly going to let him run the show on this one, and the deference to his feelings reinforced his confidence in her.  Them.

Goddamn if it wasn’t starting to look like Lilah could be right.  The counselor might very well be the rest of his life, and if that turned out to be the case…  Jon was going to owe Kentucky some big sparkly shit.

“It would be less awkward if you’d never fucked him,” he observed dryly, feathering fingertips over the softness of her cheek.  “But since the past can’t be undone, and we – you and me – don’t run from problems, we’re going in there to work through the awkwardness until we get past it.”

“Okay.”  Her lips were as soft as her cheek when they touched his.  “I love you.”

He loved her, too.  More than he was comfortable with sometimes. 

“Yet you still won’t blow me in the car.”

Her tinkling laughter was exactly what he'd been aiming for with his crude sarcasm.  "Well, you know...  If you manage to come up with a birthday gift better than the age thing earlier...  I might just reconsider."

Jon chucked her lightly under the chin with the knuckle of his forefinger.  “In that case, I suggest you pucker up, baby.  'Cause it’s goooood.”