goodnight heartache
718 words. PG.
Jen Lindley, Pacey Witter. Set post-series but pre-flashforward.
Summary: Don't you got a job, Lindley? Pacey will say, and Jen answers yeah, keeping you out of trouble.
Note: Originally posted here. This didn't…quite come out like I wanted, but in my defense I have not watched this show in one million years and am therefore rusty. Always shipped Jen/Pacey a bit though, as they were the town tarts and all.
It's almost Christmas and Jen is painfully lonely walking around a Capeside strewn with twinkle lights and snowflakes, every tiny non-chain café offering up seasonal delights. Jack is already away on vacation with Doug, a tropical Christmas as he called it, though Jen told him about a hundred times that that was not a real thing. Christmas is supposed to be just like it is in Capeside right now, picturesque, like a postcard or a snow globe.
But Jen can't even enjoy the seasonal coffees because of the caffeine or unwind with a glass of wine or enjoy half the food she tries to eat because everything makes her nauseous lately and she ends up crying in public every time she sees a happy couple and basically Jen is a mess. It doesn't help that she's still the talk of Capeside, everyone whispering about her like they did when she was a kid, and sometimes she wonders why she even came back here to have the damn baby.
She starts spending a lot of time bugging Pacey at his restaurant, though she has to keep her sleeved hand over her nose half the time to ward off nausea-inducing smells. Don't you got a job, Lindley? Pacey will say, and Jen answers yeah, keeping you out of trouble. He's no Jack, but there's worse company than Pacey Witter.
Jen's in the corner store, which is not nearly as well-stocked as even the shoddiest drugstore in Manhattan, Pacey a few feet away. She lets her hand fall unthinkingly to the curve of her stomach. Jen's begun to talk to the baby in her head, little things: sorry your daddy turned out to be a class A asshole. a lot of them go that way. should we get vanilla yogurt or strawberry? But she's distracted by the sound of talking and when she looks to the side, two middle-aged women are already looking at her. They drop their eyes quickly but not before shooting glances at her stomach.
"Honey," Pacey says, strangely, stepping up beside her, "Did you want whole milk or two percent?" And he takes her hand, bringing it up to his mouth for kiss.
Jen looks at him, perplexed. "Pace, what are –"
Pacey gives a faux-offended gasp and makes a show of searching her hand, turning it over and checking her fingers. "Sweetheart, did you forget your ring again? I swear, you've got pregnancy brain something fierce. If I didn't know you better, I’d say it was a subconscious effort to get rid of me, but darling, we both know I love you too much to ever leave."
The older women seem even more confused than Jen is, but she catches on quickly, plays along. "Oh!" Jen laughs loudly, comically slapping a hand to her forehead. "Silly me. I'd forget the baby if she wasn't in my uterus."
The women shuffle off, still looking vaguely disapproving, and Jen starts laughing, can't stop. "Pace," she says, punching his shoulder ineffectually, "What was that?"
Pacey shrugs, smiling a little at her. "Remnants of the teenage delinquent I once was," he says. "I can't resist trying to shock old ladies."
It was a one-off joke that ends up not staying that way. When he knocks on her door – over for some menial task she doesn't have Jack for right now, like changing a light bulb Jen can't reach or helping her put together the crib – he answers her who is it with your husband. It becomes a little affectionate nickname trade-off between them, the husband/wife thing. It's funniest when they slip in public, cashiers and passersby blinking in bemusement, trying to figure out what they missed, when this happened.
"They're going to think you're her father now," Jen says one day, looking around, paranoid lately.
Pacey gives her a smile. "There have been a lot worse things said about me than that, Lindley."
Jen smiles back, tucking her hand into the crook of his. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah," he says. "Anyway, we're family, aren't we? You're my brother's husband's wife, or something. And even without that, there's high school sex scandal solidarity between you and me."
He pounds his chest twice and flashes her a sideways peace sign and Jen laughs so hard she thinks she's going to go into labor.
718 words. PG.
Jen Lindley, Pacey Witter. Set post-series but pre-flashforward.
Summary: Don't you got a job, Lindley? Pacey will say, and Jen answers yeah, keeping you out of trouble.
Note: Originally posted here. This didn't…quite come out like I wanted, but in my defense I have not watched this show in one million years and am therefore rusty. Always shipped Jen/Pacey a bit though, as they were the town tarts and all.
It's almost Christmas and Jen is painfully lonely walking around a Capeside strewn with twinkle lights and snowflakes, every tiny non-chain café offering up seasonal delights. Jack is already away on vacation with Doug, a tropical Christmas as he called it, though Jen told him about a hundred times that that was not a real thing. Christmas is supposed to be just like it is in Capeside right now, picturesque, like a postcard or a snow globe.
But Jen can't even enjoy the seasonal coffees because of the caffeine or unwind with a glass of wine or enjoy half the food she tries to eat because everything makes her nauseous lately and she ends up crying in public every time she sees a happy couple and basically Jen is a mess. It doesn't help that she's still the talk of Capeside, everyone whispering about her like they did when she was a kid, and sometimes she wonders why she even came back here to have the damn baby.
She starts spending a lot of time bugging Pacey at his restaurant, though she has to keep her sleeved hand over her nose half the time to ward off nausea-inducing smells. Don't you got a job, Lindley? Pacey will say, and Jen answers yeah, keeping you out of trouble. He's no Jack, but there's worse company than Pacey Witter.
Jen's in the corner store, which is not nearly as well-stocked as even the shoddiest drugstore in Manhattan, Pacey a few feet away. She lets her hand fall unthinkingly to the curve of her stomach. Jen's begun to talk to the baby in her head, little things: sorry your daddy turned out to be a class A asshole. a lot of them go that way. should we get vanilla yogurt or strawberry? But she's distracted by the sound of talking and when she looks to the side, two middle-aged women are already looking at her. They drop their eyes quickly but not before shooting glances at her stomach.
"Honey," Pacey says, strangely, stepping up beside her, "Did you want whole milk or two percent?" And he takes her hand, bringing it up to his mouth for kiss.
Jen looks at him, perplexed. "Pace, what are –"
Pacey gives a faux-offended gasp and makes a show of searching her hand, turning it over and checking her fingers. "Sweetheart, did you forget your ring again? I swear, you've got pregnancy brain something fierce. If I didn't know you better, I’d say it was a subconscious effort to get rid of me, but darling, we both know I love you too much to ever leave."
The older women seem even more confused than Jen is, but she catches on quickly, plays along. "Oh!" Jen laughs loudly, comically slapping a hand to her forehead. "Silly me. I'd forget the baby if she wasn't in my uterus."
The women shuffle off, still looking vaguely disapproving, and Jen starts laughing, can't stop. "Pace," she says, punching his shoulder ineffectually, "What was that?"
Pacey shrugs, smiling a little at her. "Remnants of the teenage delinquent I once was," he says. "I can't resist trying to shock old ladies."
It was a one-off joke that ends up not staying that way. When he knocks on her door – over for some menial task she doesn't have Jack for right now, like changing a light bulb Jen can't reach or helping her put together the crib – he answers her who is it with your husband. It becomes a little affectionate nickname trade-off between them, the husband/wife thing. It's funniest when they slip in public, cashiers and passersby blinking in bemusement, trying to figure out what they missed, when this happened.
"They're going to think you're her father now," Jen says one day, looking around, paranoid lately.
Pacey gives her a smile. "There have been a lot worse things said about me than that, Lindley."
Jen smiles back, tucking her hand into the crook of his. "Oh yeah?"
"Yeah," he says. "Anyway, we're family, aren't we? You're my brother's husband's wife, or something. And even without that, there's high school sex scandal solidarity between you and me."
He pounds his chest twice and flashes her a sideways peace sign and Jen laughs so hard she thinks she's going to go into labor.