"I need a shower... or two..." Joanne finally broke the soft silence between them.
Jeffrey didn’t let go right away. Instead, he leaned in and took another long, shaless breath of her hair.
Joanne rolled her eyes but didn’t resist. If he could stand her stench, when even she couldn’t, what was that, if not love?
"As you wish," he said, kissing her forehead before slipping out of bed.
Her heart fluttered.
Those words. That tone.
She was twelve again, flushed and dizzy from the way he danced to her whims on that unforgettable day. And here he was again, grown, refined, and careful, padding to the bathroom, setting the temperature just right in his stupidly fancy shower, laying out a towel like it was sothing sacred.
She sat up... and the room spun.
Joanne groaned, gripping the edge of the bed until the dizziness passed, then slowly made her way to the bathroom. She started brushing her teeth... and promptly doubled over the sink, dry heaving, gagging until her stomach gave up water and air.
Jeffrey was there in a heartbeat, holding her hair back, one hand gently rubbing soothing circles on her spine. His voice was low, worried, asking if she needed to see a doctor.
Joanne collapsed beside the toilet, one arm braced on the cool porcelain, the other cradling her head.
Seriously. Morning sickness was a bitch. What twisted biology made won endure this in exchange for bringing new life? Shouldn’t evolution have figured out a better incentive by now?
"I can’t do this alone, Jeffrey..." she whispered.
The tears ca without warning. Soft and tired, sliding down her already red cheeks. "I can’t. I won’t. And I don’t want to. I don’t want anyone else. I want you."
It wasn’t so dramatic confession. It was her truth—stripped of pride, stripped of fear.
Jeffrey stared at her, eyes wide, heart caught in his throat. And then he saw it.
The sa green eyes he’d always known, still gleaming through the haze of sickness and exhaustion. The rawness in her voice. The courage it took to speak her need out loud.
This—this—was the mont he realized what had broken her yesterday. It wasn’t just the pregnancy. It wasn’t Heather. It wasn’t the lack of love.
It was the crushing loneliness.
"I’m here, Jo," he said, voice thick. "I always planned to be here. I’m not leaving. Not for one second. You hear ?"
He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. "You don’t have to do any of this alone. I won’t let you."
She looked up, searching his face. And she believed him.
"Keep your promise, Jeffrey... I need you on this."
"I will." He gathered her in his arms, cradling her like sothing precious. His own eyes stung as he pressed his lips to her hair.
This—this right here—was what she wanted. Not a fancy ring. Not a grand wedding. Just him. Beside her.
"I love you, Jo," he whispered. "So damn much."
"Move away~"
He barely leapt back in ti before another round of vomiting overtook her. But he stayed close.
When she finally peeled herself off the floor and stepped into the shower, he followed her to the threshold.
"Don’t lock the door," he said softly.
Joanne nodded. She knew this wasn’t about lust. This was him worried sick that she might faint and fall, and there’d be no one to catch her.
A knock at the door pulled him away.
He opened it to find one of the kitchen staff with a covered tray.
"Breakfast, Young Master. It has been specially prepared for Ms. Smith by Mrs. Winchester."
Jeffrey blinked in surprise. His grandmother, the loving yet strict ruler of the Winchester Estate, who always insisted on breakfast at the dining table or go hungry, had actually decided to bend the rules this ti?
A grin broke across his face. "Thank you," he said, taking the tray and closing the door.
He made a ntal note to find his grandmother later and kiss her cheek. Or maybe na their first child after her.
Either way, she deserved it.
-----
Joanne stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped snugly around her. The steam still clung to her skin as she walked into the room, and of course—there he was, waiting for her like so dostic prince charming, hair dryer in hand.
She blinked. "You’re kidding."
"Nope," Jeffrey said, flicking the switch and giving her a look that dared her to refuse him.
She chuckled and sat down on the edge of the bed, letting him towel off the excess water before turning on the dryer. The warm air humd around her as he carefully, thodically ran his fingers through her damp curls, patient as a saint, tender as a lover. Not once did he pull or tug.
It was... luxurious.
Joanne closed her eyes, her shoulders softening under his touch. His fingers threaded through her hair like they knew the shape of her better than she did. She felt herself drifting, lulled by the warmth, the gentleness, the unspoken affection.
She nearly dozed off right there.
"You’ve grown out your hair..." Jeffrey murmured, almost to himself. His voice was low, reverent.
Joanne cracked one eye open, a smirk curling on her lips. "Noticed, did you?"
"When I first t you, it barely brushed your shoulders. Now..." He ran his fingers through the ends, letting the long curls slip through them like silk. "It’s almost at your waist."
"Felt like growing it out the past year," she said softly. "Think I was trying to feel like a woman again. Or maybe... just wanted to stop cutting pieces of myself off."
He stilled for half a second. Then resud, even gentler.
"You kept the curls though..." he added with a smile. "I like that."
"They’re kind of hard to get rid of. Born with the Irish curls. Not much I can do."
"They’re beautiful," he said, and she could hear the sincerity without needing to look. "I hope our children all inherit your hair."
Joanne huffed a soft laugh. "I don’t want ginger sons."
He stopped the dryer and looked at her like she just insulted his mother.
"What’s wrong with ginger sons?"
"I don’t know," she shrugged. "They always look like they either belong in a forest or a Weasley family reunion."
Jeffrey scoffed in mock offense. "You do realize I have red in my hair too, right? Auburn isn’t that far off."
She turned her head, inspecting him with mock seriousness. "Hmm... well, you’re passable. But ginger boys get teased."
"I got teased," he said dryly. "Didn’t stop from becoming devastatingly handso and entirely irresistible."
"Oh please," she smirked. "One of your ears still turns red when you lie."
Jeffrey grinned, flipping off the dryer and setting it aside. "Maybe. But one of your cheeks flushes when you’re flattered. And right now? I think you’re blushing, Ms. Smith."
Joanne bit her bottom lip to hide her grin. Her cheek, unfortunately, did betray her.
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