FicWad

“So, how is my breath?” Jon asked, as he pulled away. They were both sitting on the couch. Dylan was curled up in Jon’s arms and he was leaning over her, doing all the work. “Do I taste dead?”

Dylan rolled her eyes, “You just ruined a perfectly good make out session.”

“I couldn’t help myself.” Jon grinned, leaning forward again. His lips pressed against Dylan’s, and she closed her eyes. The kiss deepened as their tongues met, and Jon felt a jolt travel through his body. It felt like… being alive again.

It wasn’t some skank he was kissing though, and he’d never felt like this when kissing any other girl. Dylan was different, probably because she was so naïve. He didn’t really want to think about it, he just wanted to kiss her.

Dylan felt the same way. She pushed all of her thoughts away as Jon’s tongue slipped in to her mouth again. Her eyes were still closed, and she’d never closed them with Adam. She didn’t care though- this had nothing to do with Adam, and Jon was here. Jon was here when no one else was, and he couldn’t leave even if he wanted to.

And well, he was around when she needed him.

She owed him, right?

That’s how she explained the make out session to herself anyway.

Jon’s tongue lightly flicked against Dylan’s bottom lip as he came to the bitter realization that he was just using her. When he was alive it had felt right- even exciting; as a dead man it felt wrong… and not just because he was dead.

Dylan opened her eyes as the sensation of Jon disappeared completely, leaving her at a complete loss.

Suddenly, she was sitting on the couch all by herself.

She licked her lips, letting her eyes fall closed once again. “Goodbye to you too.” She bitterly whispered.

Jon didn’t reply, though he was only a few steps away.



**



“What are you doing?” Jon reappeared behind Dylan two and a half hours later, as she shoved a toothpick in a yellow peep before gently placing it on a paper plate. She did the same to another peep, placing them facing each other.

“They are going to joust.” Dylan explained, without looking at Jon. Her cheeks were already beginning to brighten from the embarrassment he’d caused her by disappearing in the middle of their make out session.

Dylan had known from the beginning that it meant nothing, but it still hurt for him to just disappear like that.

“Maybe you are a little insane.” Jon mumbled.

Dylan ignored him as she placed the paper plate in to the microwave and turned it on for 60 seconds. Jon’s hand fell on to her shoulder, and she jumped.

“Shit, that’s kind of cool.” Jon commented, by the time the microwave beeped.

Dylan removed the plate and gazed at the mess of goo. The two slaughtered peeps had both fallen, leaving no victor. “I declare the battle a loss on both sides.” Dylan replied.

Jon chuckled, as his hand fell away from her shoulder.

Dylan tossed the plate in to the garbage and yawned.

“Going to sleep?” Jon asked.

Dylan didn’t respond as she made her way to the bathroom. Jon followed her in, giving no thought to her privacy. Dylan rolled her eyes as she turned the shower on, allowing the water to reach a reasonable temperature.

“You’re mad.” Jon groaned.

“About?” Dylan played dumb.

“Look, I just didn’t want to stick around earlier because I didn’t want things to get all gooey.” Jon explained, lamely. “You were upset, and I was there, and we were kissing and… it was just fun Dylan, but that’s the perfect recipe for a mistake.”

Dylan rolled her eyes. “Can you even have sex? You’re dead, for goodness sake.”

Jon’s eyes narrowed. “I can-” He paused, letting his gaze fall down to his covered crotch. “I haven’t tried or anything but-” He frowned. “That would be cruel if I couldn’t-” Now he just looked troubled.

Dylan chuckled. “Consider it payback. You don’t just disappear on a girl like that. Not even when I mean nothing to you.” Dylan stepped inside the shower, and seconds later her wet clothes landed on Jon as she tossed them over the curtain. “I deserve better than that.”

Jon cleared his throat. “You’ll like Brendon. He’s a real friendly guy, and so is Spencer. Ryan is kind of quiet, but he’s nice too.”

Dylan mumbled something but Jon couldn’t hear her over the sound of the water. It sounded like she was talking with her head under the water, and she probably was. “You’ll be safe with them.” Jon assured her, as if she was frightened. “But beware, Brendon tells some pretty shitty jokes.”

Dylan poked her head out. “Don’t worry. I’m used to that.” With that said she stuck her tongue out, before disappearing behind the curtain again.

Jon rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that formed.



**



Dylan gazed at Jon. He was laying on the end of the bed, and she was sitting at the top with her knees pulled up to her chest and her drawing pad balancing upon her knees. She lightly colored in what she was drawing, with the side of her pencil.

“I didn’t know you liked to draw.” Jon commented.

Dylan shrugged. “How were you supposed to know?” She continued on, her concentration unwavering.

“I don’t know, normal people might hang some of their drawings.” Jon replied.

“Like on the fridge?” Dylan rolled her eyes. “I haven’t done that since I was five, and it was my father who did it… not me.”

“Your father?” Jon inquired. “Isn’t that something mom’s usually do?”

“It isn’t always like that.” Dylan informed Jon.

“Didn’t have a mom, did you?” Jon asked, lacking tact.

Dylan gazed at the drawing pad, “I had, and still have, a mother and a father, and an older brother.”

“My parents are still around too.” Jon replied. “At least I think so. They were when I died.”

“Did you get along with them?” Dylan asked.

“Aside from them hating my career choice, yeah. They were decent parents.” Jon replied.

“Career choice?” Dylan asked.

“Musician.” Jon explained. “They thought it was a bum gig.”

“Most parents do.” Dylan replied.

“So, why didn’t your mother put your pictures on the fridge?” Jon asked.

“My mom…” Dylan stopped drawing for a moment, as she thought of how to phrase what she was about to say. Nothing really sounded right, so she said it the best way she could. “My mom was in to other things. She didn’t do children’s artwork, or read stories… and she didn’t really take pride in anything my brother or I did until we were old enough to make it … I don’t know, better. She’s a bit of a perfectionist.”

“That had to be difficult.” Jon commented. “I mean, how perfect can you be at 5?”

“You can’t.” Dylan responded, going back to drawing. “Which is why she wasn’t the one hanging up the pictures on the fridge.”

“But your father wasn’t a perfectionist?” Jon asked.

Dylan smiled at the thought of her father. “My father… hates perfection. He thinks it’s creepy and unreal. He liked it best when my brother and I tried, and got creative. He liked a fresh start, a first try.”

Jon nodded. “Seems better than a bunch of ‘perfect’ copies.”

Dylan chuckled. “That’s exactly what he would say.”

“So, how’d your mom and him end up together then?” Jon asked.

Dylan’s smile fell. “They said it was love.”

“They said?” Jon asked, picking up on how she’d worded it.

“It isn’t confirmed…” Dylan sighed loudly, clearly frustrated. “But I think he got her pregnant, and just got stuck doing what he thought was the right thing.”

“You disagree?” Jon inquired.

“I love my parents.” Dylan replied, softly. “But… I don’t think they really love each other. I think they are comfortable now, but… I think, maybe, had they actually done more than just settle that they would both be a lot happier.”

“Sometimes people need to settle.” Jon commented, as he shifted, moving up beside Dylan. She blushed as he gazed down at what she’d been drawing. “Sometimes they don’t realize what they want, and what they need, until they have it.”

“Why are you being so deep tonight?” Dylan asked, point blank.

Jon stared down at the drawing. “Why are you drawing me with such big eyes?”

Dylan looked up at him, as she sucked part of her lower lip in to her mouth and lightly grinded her teeth against it. “Because you have beautiful eyes.”

Jon didn’t say anything for several seconds, but then he answered her question. “Because sometimes even I get sick of being an asshole.”



**



“You have exceptionally hairy legs.” Jon commented, as he ran the razor down Dylan’s leg.

“Do not.” Dylan replied, unfazed.

Jon rolled his eyes. “Remind me why I’m doing this?”

“Because I hate shaving my legs.” Dylan answered.

“Yeah, well, so do I.” Jon spit out as he gently ran the razor down another section of Dylan’s leg. “I don’t even think there is hair here. You’re just making me do this to torture me.”

Dylan grinned evilly, “You’re the one that won’t give me back my drawing pad.”

Jon chuckled. “I wanted to look at what you’d drawn, and you wouldn’t let me.”

Dylan sighed. “The drawings aren’t that good.”

“You’re right.” Jon teased, “But I don’t have much to look at anymore.”

Dylan blushed, but thankfully Jon was sidetracked by the fact that he was in the bathroom with a semi-naked girl, one that he was even starting to find attractive.

“Are you going to…” Dylan trailed off, trying to keep the night calm and without an argument. It was the longest her and Jon had kept civil, and it was kind of weird, but nice. Dylan was in no mood to argue. “You know, with Brendon, Ryan, and Spencer here tomorrow…”

“No.” Jon blurted the word out, coldly shutting Dylan down.

“Shit.” Dylan winced.

“Fuck.” Jon awkwardly ran his fingers along the cut he’d just caused with Dylan’s razor. He grabbed a rag, dabbing at the cut. Dylan bit her lip. “Does it hurt?”

“What do you think?” Dylan asked, rolling her eyes.

Jon shook his head. “Still a bitch.”

“Thought sometimes you got sick of being an asshole?” Dylan asked.

Jon shrugged, as he held the rag to Dylan’s leg. “What can I say? You just inspire such… qualities.”

Dylan rolled her eyes again, watching as Jon peaked underneath the rag and took a look at her leg. “You’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, razor cuts aren’t usually under cause of death.” Dylan blurted out stupidly, thinking her words over just a second later.

Jon chuckled. “Really? You’re making this easy for me.”

“Well, I’d hate to complicate things for you. Dead people aren’t great thinkers, and I have a feeling you weren’t good while alive either.”

Jon rolled his eyes. “I’m hurt, really. Your awful comebacks are just killing me.”

“You’ve got to die of something, eventually, hopefully.” But Dylan really hoped Jon would stay forever.

When he was around… she was aggravated, but she didn’t feel alone.





**



(I seriously couldn’t get the conversation flowing in this one. It was so frustrating. I think it’s simply because I’ve not typed in awhile… but I’m back! =P Thanks for reading. Please give feedback. I really do love it. This is a bit of a filler, but the next one will be worth the update!)