Hi, Hey, Hello!
Yeah, so it has been less than a month and I am already bringing this back. However, I didn’t write this recently (not saying that I haven’t written with these characters since the end of June because that would be a big fat LIE). In fact I wrote it in October last year just as a way to keep wiping the cobwebs off and also because I was in the mood to explore writing in second person narrative at the time. So I was checking through my Word documents (and figuring out what the hell was under some of the title names, they get creative that’s for sure) and I found this. Now in October these characters didn’t even exist, but it turns out that with a few tweaks it slotted in almost seamlessly. Just written in a different style. And I’m done talking now and am just gonna get on with it.
When he first brought it home it was still in a garment bag. That told you that it was expensive, but by this point you were so used to new clothes coming and going that you stopped paying attention to them all. But you noticed him bringing this one in because he stopped and leaned against the door to talk to you briefly with the bag slung casually over his shoulder.
The first time you physically saw it was in passing. He called out a hello as he walked past the living room. You looked up from your spot on the sofa to the general direction of his voice and mumbled a hello as a blur of black and a hand held out in a greeting disappeared down the hallway. He came back into the room five minutes later wearing the jumper that you had been wearing earlier and a pair of shorts that were fraying at the hem with his hair pulled back. He fell into the seat next to your feet and turned the TV over from the radio onto a random episode of Come Dine With Me. So you forgot about it and settled in for the night.
The first time you really see it is on screen of all places. You’re flicking through channels trying not to spill your too full coffee mug all over you and your laptop as you settle back into your seat when his face shows up. You pause and notice first of all that he is smiling that smile that usually means he has just finished telling a joke that is really not that funny which in itself means that it was hilarious. Or he has made a cheeky comment that no one has really heard but he is proud of nonetheless. Either way it’s your favourite smile. Next you notice that he is wearing the shirt that you love to hate because it shouldn’t work but on him it does. He wears it sometimes just to wind you up, but it’s what he’s paired it with it that holds your attention this time.
Leather. Black to be precise. A jacket you’ve never seen before because he’s somehow kept it hidden from you. It’s obviously designer, which one you can’t properly figure out in the moment. There is silver detailing and the sleeves are unzipped slightly revealing his toned forearms. Then suddenly you register his voice thanking the presenters and the screen cutting to an ad-break and he’s gone.
Part of you has a finger hovering over the rewind button to get another look at it, but the coffee in your hands has gone cold and some things are more important than leather jackets.
When you settle down to work ten minutes later, with the radio on in the background now, there is still a small part of your brain thinking about it. Although you don’t realise that it’s more than just a small part until a black leather jacket materialises its way onto one of your characters as you type.
By dinner you’ve stopped thinking about it so much and you know it won’t come up again anytime soon because he isn’t due back home for two weeks. Neither of you are going to bring it up because it’s a jacket, there are more important things to talk about.
When you wake up the next morning you’ve forgotten about it entirely.
And continue to forget about it until three days before he is due home.
You’re flicking through the channels again when you see his long legs stretched out in front of him. You know they’re his without even seeing his face and you laugh a little because apparently that’s a talent you have now. This time though they are clad in something that is not his typical denim. They are definitely leather, which explains why his legs are more splayed that usual, but doesn’t explain why he suddenly owns all this leather.
Or how it had gone completely over your head.
You finally bring it up when he texts you later asking about your day. Mention none too subtly that it was going fine until he distracted you. The thing that makes you laugh the most is that he knows why instantly. Joked that it was some kind of payback for you always wearing his jumpers (it is not your fault that they are comfier and warmer than yours (and maybe, just maybe, you did stop buying jumpers because he owned so many and you were in them so often that it seemed like you were spending money unnecessarily)). Your only response to that was questioning how he could have possibly known that you would see him because he knows that you don’t typically watch him on TV. He calls you when he gets that text, just to laugh that annoyingly deep laugh and you question jokingly why the hell you ever decided you loved him. He just replies ‘you too babe’, then hangs up with the promise of seeing you soon.
You’re lying on the sofa with your head propped up on the arm of the sofa with a whole bunch of pillows cushioning your head and your laptop resting across your lap typing away and humming along to the song playing on the radio when you hear the front door close quietly and keys fall into the bowl next to it. There is also the thud of his bag hitting the floor and then his feet are shuffling down the hallway. Your eyes flick in acknowledgment of his presence as he appears in the doorway, your fingers still moving away on your keyboard, but before you return your attention to the screen you actually notice him. He is leaning against the wall and smiling while he waves at you with two fingers on his left hand before his arms cross over his chest and he raises his eyebrows slightly.
His legs are back to being denim clad, which you’re thankful for, and he’s wearing the beanie that you have spent the past few months looking for. (It seems two can play at the clothes stealing game.) He’s wearing a simple white tee and that damn leather jacket. You look back up at his face to find that he’s smirking at you with a challenge in his eyes.
You shift your eyes back to your screen in an attempt to not give him the satisfaction of getting to you so quickly but you realise that you stopped typing mid-sentence and cannot remember how it was supposed to end. So you just save the document, hope the thought will come back to you and shut your laptop. You can hear him laugh deep in his throat and the sound prompts you to look back over at him and accept defeat in this weird game between the two of you. He’s still smirking and you would find it mildly infuriating if it wasn’t for the fact that you couldn’t stop staring at his leather clad arms pulled tightly across his chest. You give up completely with trying to ignore him and drop your laptop down next to you as you push up and walk over to him.
His arms drop down to hang loosely at his sides as you walk straight into him and wrap your arms around his torso. One hand made it to the soft fabric of his t-shirt while the other got caught up in the jacket. The leather is soft under your hand and carries remnants of his body heat and your head is resting on his chest in a place that means that you can smell his cologne clinging to the jacket and that smell seems an awful lot like home. And then his arms settle around you and pull you in tighter, you sigh in contentment and feel a laugh rumble through his chest and a gentle kiss being pressed into your head.
He leaves again a few weeks later for nearly a month but leaves the jacket hanging on the front of the wardrobe. The elbows and shoulders look softer and if you walk past it, it still smells overwhelmingly like him, almost as if he is wearing it. It’s a bittersweet feeling because it makes you miss him a bit more but also the smell is comforting in a way very little else is.
One day out of sheer boredom and lack of creativity you find yourself walking back into your bedroom. You’re tired and a nap seems like a good idea but then you catch his scent hanging around the leather and it hits you that the reason you feel so out of sorts is because you’re missing him. It’s been three weeks and usually you’re better with the distance thing but you’ve hit a wall and don’t know how to break through it. He always knows how to pull you out of a funk, usually by scooping you up in his arms whilst he reassures you that you can get through the lull.
So that’s your excuse when you pull the jacket off the hanger and slip into it before falling onto the bed and burying your nose in the collar glad to discover that it’s a semi acceptable substitute for him and drifting into a surprisingly deep sleep.
When you wake up it is because there is a distant thudding in your ears. As you slowly come back to your senses you realise that your head is no longer cushioned by pillows but rather by a body. Shifting your head slightly you catch something familiar and the brief second of panic that you experienced disappears as you readjust your eye-line to peer up at him through your lashes.
‘You know the whole point of the leather jacket was to drive you a little bit mad with it.’ He mumbles, you feel his voice rumble deep in his chest and you find yourself at ease again.
‘Don’t worry hon, it achieves that.’ You reply eventually into the cotton of his shirt.
‘See I thought so and then I came home and found you fast asleep on my side of the bed all wrapped up in it and I realised that you always manage to beat me at this game.’ He starts drawing patterns on the hand you have splayed on his stomach and you relax into his touch even further.
‘I just missed you today more than usual that’s all.’ You mutter and he shifts to kiss your forehead wetly.
‘You could have called me.’
‘Did you not just say that you were coming home? Would that not involve you being on a plane and therefore unable to answer your phone if I did call? Besides calling you wouldn’t have helped anyway, if anything it would have made the week in which I thought you weren’t going to be here harder.’
‘Because dummy, I missed you. Like I missed the cuddles and the stupid comments and the way you know how to get me out of a funk and I thought you were gonna be gone for another week. So I didn’t call because that would have made me miss you more. But it doesn’t matter because you wouldn’t have answered even if I had called because you were on a plane.’
‘I’m glad you’re home though. How is that possible?’
‘A couple of things got moved around and we got stuff done quicker than we thought. Good timing I guess. We were maybe gonna go and spend some time in New York, but I wanted to get home so left them to it.’
‘You could have gone.’
‘I know I could but I guess maybe I missed you and your constant tapping at keyboards and talking in plot points. And New York is more fun with you there. Plus, I missed my jacket.’ You laugh and press a kiss his chest.
‘I’m taking it hostage sorry. It is really rather comfy and it is very, very soft now.’
‘I’m rather glad that you can’t take the trousers as well.’
‘Babe, I own leather trousers as well. I just haven’t got around to wearing them yet. I am waiting for the opportune moment.’
‘I think I hate you.’ He mumbles into your hair.
‘I think you might do. I think you might hate me so much that your first instinct when you were finished with work wasn’t to go with the rest of the guys on a mini trip to New York but to come home because you missed me.’ Your tone was teasing.
‘I should have gone to New York,’ He smiles in a tone that matches yours as he pulls you in tighter, ‘If I had gone I wouldn’t have seen you wearing my jacket and being all snuggly with it. That would have been better for me.’
‘I have worn your clothes before babe. In fact there are multiple items of clothing that we don’t know the original owner of anymore.’
‘Yeah I know. But there is something about it being leather that makes it worse.’
‘I know the feeling. My coffee went cold the first time I saw you in this thing.’
‘Oh gosh, I am so sorry that must have been so hard for you.’
‘Meh, it was fine. Worth it.’
‘I almost woke you up out of blind desire. Can’t imagine how frustrating that must have been through a screen.’
‘Why didn’t you?’
‘I figured you needed the sleep.’
‘How very considerate of you.’
‘Sometimes it happens.’
‘So what did blind desire want to do?’
‘It involved various things with you still wearing the jacket.’
‘That sounds like it would have been awfully hot.’
‘It would have. I would remove it before it got too bad though.’
‘If you could pick only one way which would it be?’
‘See that’s hard, and I have been thinking about it a lot because I’ve been lying here for nearly two hours and I still can’t pick just one.’
‘Then what are the two?’
‘Why are you assuming that I narrowed it down to two?’
‘Because if I know you as well as I think I do then I think I know what you’re going to say.’
‘Well what do you think I’m going to say?’
‘You are going to say going down on me or me riding you because you like watching me fall apart while you just take but then you also like watching me just use you until I’m spent and then remember you as an afterthought. And because I don’t need too spend that much time thinking about it, unlike you, I am saying that if you could have one way and only one while I’m wearing this jacket it would be me riding you because you can see me properly.’
‘See this is why I came home instead of going to New York.’
‘What so I could tell you details about your sexual preferences? That makes no sense. I have to ask though, is thinking about me wearing this jacket during sex something that you have just thought about or…?’
‘In an abstract sense, when I got it I figured you would love it and it would somehow end up on your back, but in actual reality I thought about it when I came home today. Why?’
‘I was just curious because the thought has been driving me mental for months.’
‘Good. That was my intention.’
‘I hate you.’
‘Maybe you do, but you missed me and you think about having sex with me while clad in leather, so how strong is that hate really?’
‘Do you want to wear it or should I?’
‘The jacket, do you want to wear it or should I?’
‘Is this really happening?’
‘I haven’t seen you in three weeks and I’m too distracted to work now, so yeah it’s happening. You haven’t answered my question yet though babe.’
‘Well what do you want?’
‘I didn’t ask me, I asked you. Answer.’
‘You. I want you in it. Fuck, I want you in it.’
‘Well alright then.’
A week later you’re settling down with a mug of coffee and about to start reading over everything that you wrote yesterday with the radio on in the background when you hear his voice making its way down the microphone and you briefly wonder why you’re surprised. He had mentioned that he was doing radio interviews all day, the law of averages would suggest that he would turn up on the one that you always listen to, he may have even told you explicitly. They’re all humming about something or other while you focus on your re-reading task when you hear his voice says the word ‘girlfriend’. He’s telling this story which in theory he could have removed you from, you aren’t really of that much importance to it, but you guess for some reason he wants you be paying attention.
So you do.
You listen to his voice as it forms words carefully. Certain words are huskier than others and it’s easy to imagine his mouth curling around them. He elongates vowels sometimes and stumbles over syllables with a soft chuckle in his throat and you’ve heard him tell this story before but it seems different now. Maybe it’s because you can’t see the way he uses his hands to talk or the way his mouth twitches up into a smile when he reaches certain parts of the story, or the way that his eyes shine brightly and he sneaks glances at you as the story goes on. It‘s different in the best possible way and it’s driving you mad for some reason.
He finishes telling the story and a song that you should really recognise by now seeing as you hear it almost every day starts playing. Your phone makes a sound that alerts you of a text.
‘Everyone keeps asking me why I keep randomly smiling like an idiot and I’m telling them I’m remembering this funny thing you did last night.’
‘I’m guessing that isn’t the real reason?’
‘Not in the slightest.’
‘You are waiting for me to bite, so take this as me doing so.’
‘My jacket still smells a bit like you’
‘It still smells like you and your shampoo and I’m guessing me. But then there is something else.’
‘Get to the point.’
‘Sex. It smells like sex. And I keep smiling like an idiot because if I move in a certain way it’s all I can smell and then I remember you sitting on top of me wearing my leather jacket and just taking what you want from me and how much I fucking loved it.’
‘So I’m the reason you’re smiling like an idiot?’
‘I mean yeah, pretty much.’
‘Well nice to know that you’re thinking of me.’
‘I’m thinking of you so much that I mentioned you in an interview today without even thinking. I mean I was thinking but not beyond much except how great you were and how I could talk about you all the time if I could I didn’t think it would annoy everyone around me.’
‘Yeah I heard that.’
‘I hoped you were listening, the timing worked out…’
‘You know somehow it surprised me to hear that you have an incredibly sexy voice. Radio suits you. Well maybe not totally but it definitely did something for me.’
‘Do you expect me to carry on with my day normally now that I know that you’re at home and horny?’
‘That is exactly what I expect from you. You’ve been partially turned on all day it would seem, another few hours won’t hurt you that much. I’m not gonna do anything about it now but I have an idea.’
‘Do I get anything else other than the word “idea”.’
‘When did I say the idea was related to you? I could have been talking about work…’
‘You have a very detailed plot outline in several different locations of our house and once you have got to that stage of the process you don’t get any more ideas.’
‘Touché. Fine I’ll tell you but I also apologise for what I am about to do.’
‘Why, what are you gonna do to me…?’
‘It’s your turn to wear the jacket…xx’
Parentheses count: 5. See you on Sunday!
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