Archive of Our Own

Mary was often called an ‘eccentric’ cook. 

Now, JJ’s not super clear on what that means but he thinks it must be good as he sits propped on the counter, occasionally picking at pieces of a casserole she’s making. 

“Johnny,” she scolds, batting his hand lightly as he stuffs a burnt corner piece into his mouth. 

JJ grins as he chews, unrepentant. “Sorry,” he shrugs, swinging his feet rapidly. He instantly reaches to grab his juice next to him after he swallows, the texture is weird, and it’s just this side of too salty but JJ likes it anyway. 

Mary sighs, rolling her eyes affectionately at her boy. “Well, thief,” she jokes, “how’s your birthday meal?” 

He gives two enthusiastic thumbs up. “Great Mama.” 

The older woman smiles, blue eyes shining in the evening sun. “Thank you baby, now, pass me the salt, just need the finishing touches now.” 

The door swings open as he passes it to her, he immediately goes stiff, shrinking just a little. Mary sighs, it’s an effort to keep the smile plastered on her face. JJ isn’t convinced. 

Luke sweeps into the room, a rare grin on his face as he wraps his arms around his wife’s waist. “Hi sweetheart.” 

Mary’s smile remains hesitant, but grows just a little. “Hi honey, good day?” 

“Mm, great day.” He releases her waist as he kisses her cheek. Luke reaches up to ruffle JJ’s hair, who, to his credit, only flinches a little before grinning. 

He likes it when his Dad is in a good mood. 

Luke walks to the fridge, still grinning as he grabs a beer, popping it open and taking a swig casually as he pretends to think. “Man, isn’t somethin’ goin’ on today?” 

“It’s my birthday, Pop.” JJ says between laughs as Mary reaches to tickle under his chin. 

He swats her away as Luke gasps in false surprise. “No kiddin’ kid. How old are ya now?” 

JJ holds up seven fingers proudly, holes in his teeth as he grins wide. 

“Sheesh,” Luke says. “We’re gonna have to start chargin’ him rent, Mare.” 

JJ gapes as Mary laughs. “Now, Luke, not for at least another three years. Here, try your son's birthday dinner.” 

She scoops some onto a fork to feed to Luke who immediately coughs, catching it before it becomes too obvious. Mary’s brow furrows, “is it okay?” 

Luke nods quickly. “‘S just hot,” he swallows, “it’s great Mare.” 

Mary grins, believing him easily, not seeing the look he shoots JJ who grins wildly in response. 

Unbeknownst to JJ, Mary baked a cake as well, but it sits uneaten in the fridge after one too many beers leads to a flipped table and JJ hiding in his room, hands over his ears. 

A few months later, Mary leaves. JJ doesn’t know why, but it feels like it’s his fault. His Dad, angrier every day, gets rid of every sign that she ever existed. 

There’s no one to cook for them anymore, so when JJ sloppily puts together his own meals, he adds lots of salt. 

He only eats when his Dad is at work or passed out, and when the house is quiet, he can close his eyes, eat and pretend his Mom is still here. 

***

A ferry ride away, in a tiny town outside Charleston, These Arms of Mine plays over the speakers of the Carrera home. A young Kiara stands in a quaint kitchen, scooping spices into small bowls as Mike Carrera stands at the stove, stirring a large pot. The small counter is cluttered with ingredients, which Kiara had lined up neatly in the order they’re needed, dark curls piled in a bun atop her head. 

“Now, you have to make sure you take your time and follow everything exactly or we’ll have a mess on our hands,” Mike said, washing the cutting board after placing shrimp in the pot. 

Kiara nods dutifully, finishing with the spices and moving onto her tippy toes to peer into the sink. Mike chuckles, drying his hands before reaching to place the girl on the counter. 

She immediately reaches for the hand soap, washing her own hands with a focus so diligent that Mike struggles to withhold his laughter.

“Now what do we do?” She asks after drying her hands, curious eyes wide. 

“Recipe says,” Mike pretends to think, “spices next.” 

Kiara furrows her brows in confusion, looking around the kitchen counter as though she’s missed something. “Where’s the recipe? Can I see it?” 

Mike grins, tapping his temple. “It’s up here.” 

The girl raises an eyebrow, face dead serious. “That’s not a recipe, Daddy.” 

Anna’s laughter is heard from the doorway where she leans, arm crossed, small grin on her face. “That’s what I keep saying.” 

Anna moves to sweep into the room but Mike points a wooden spoon at her, halting her steps. “Ah, ah, ah. You know the rules, Kiara, remind Mommy of the rules.” 

“No ponytail, no entry,” Kiara announces proudly. 

Anna rolls her eyes at the pair but uses a band around her wrist to tie her hair up into a loose bun anyway. “Better?” She asks, entering and wrapping her arms around Mike’s waist. 

“Hm, the kid said ponytail, but I guess this will do.” He says before leaning down to kiss her. 

Kiara wrinkles her nose. “Ew.” 

The young couple turn to their daughter, grinning as she scowls at them. Mike presses a kiss to his wife’s temple before waving the minutely abandoned wooden spoon. “Spices now, little sous chef.” 

Kiara nods before leaping off the counter, missing Anna’s gasp in fear as she lands planted on her feet. Vaguely hears, “Mike, you should not be letting her up there,” through her singular focus on lining the little white bowls up next to the pot, getting ready to dump the first one in when Mike stops her. 

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, now. No, no.” He says. 

Kiara’s hand snaps back, insecure. “I measured them right, I promise. Two tablespoons per spice.” She holds out two fingers for emphasis. 

“I know you did,” Mike says, as Anna pours herself a glass of wine, sitting at the small wooden table. “But we don’t put that much of each spice in.”

Anna laughs as Kiara looks at her Dad skeptically. “It doesn’t make sense to me either, sweetheart.”

Mike lifts Kiara, placing her on the counter opposite to the spices, ignoring Anna’s wave of discontent in the background. “It was my Mom who taught me how to cook this gumbo,” Mike reaches to dump all of the garlic in, following it with the tiniest pinch of salt after. “It’s a Carerra family staple. And there were no measurements, no recipes, everything to taste.” 

Had Kiara been older she might have understood the prominence of family traditions. 

But she’s seven years old, so she just narrows her eyes and shakes her head a little. “So why did I measure the exact same for every spice?” 

Anna chortles around a sip of wine. 

Mike sighs, “because we have to make sure we don’t go over a certain amount.” A dusting of paprika. “But, also in Carrera tradition, once I’m done with all the regular ingredients-” 

“How is it regular if there’s no recipe? And isn’t it wasteful to throw out spices we don’t use?”

Another chortle. Mike levels his daughter with a look. “Kiara.”

“Sorry,” she mumbles, pursing her lips to keep them shut. 

“One, please let me finish. Two, I promise we won’t throw out the spices we don’t use, we’ll just put them back in the jar, okay?” Mike says, knowing his girl wouldn’t let that one go. 

Kiara nods, appeased for the moment. 

Once Mike is sure she won’t interrupt again he continues. “Once I’ve added everything I’m going to add,” he ignores his wife’s amused look at his rewording. “In Carerra tradition, you are going to taste it before it’s served, add anything you want and then that will be the new family recipe, and you will officially be a Carerra.” 

“Yup,” Anna says, bemused. “Birth certificate’s not enough, gotta get the recipe in there.” 

“Hey now,” Mike says as Kiara laughs. “Don’t mock, I let you add something when we got married, didn’t I?”

“Bay leaves,” Anna says, bemused as she smiles at her husband.

Kiara glances between her parents. “You guys are being gross again.” 

Mike grins, turning to his daughter. “Hm, are you sure you’re ready to add something Kiara?”

She nods furiously. “I’m ready!” 

“Hm,” he shakes his head. “I don’t know, Anna? Should we test her?” 

Kiara lets out a loud pfft before her mom can answer. “I don’t need a test, I know that all the vegetables need to be chopped completely evenly or it throws the texture off. I know there needs to be more crab than fish but more fish than shrimp, I know that the meat goes in after the vegetables or they won’t cook evenly. I’m ready. ”

Mike opens his mouth to speak when Kiara continues. “ And I know that the oysters have to go in with that weird juice stuff-even though it’s gross - or it won’t taste right.” 

“She might already be a Carrera.” Mike says to his wife, impressed. 

Anna shakes her head, less amused. “Kiara, it’s very rude to interrupt.” 

“I already laid the three bay leaves out for you to add, Mommy.” Kiara says in apology. 

Anna softens, standing to cross the small kitchen and kiss her daughter's head. “Thanks baby, now let’s let Daddy add all his spices, then you can add what you’d like.” 

Kiara nods her assent, watching carefully as Mike adds the spices, periodically stirring and tasting as he goes, adding more of any spice he deems necessary. When he’s finished, he bows out dramatically to allow Anna to add her bay leaves. She smiles even as she rolls her eyes at him, stirring them in and blowing on the spoon before lifting it to her husbands mouth. 

“Hm,” Mike smiles. “Perfect, it’s ready for you Kiara.” 

He takes the spoon from his wife, offering it to her. “Blow first,” he warns. 

She does before tasting a little bit off the spoon. She smacks her lips dramatically as she considers the flavour, Mike goes to offer her more but she holds a hand up far too solemnly for a seven year old. He chokes down a laugh. 

“May I have an empty dish please?” Kiara asks, all business. “And the oregano, paprika, cay-” she pauses, trying to remember the pronunciation. 

“Cayenne?” Anna offers. 

“Yes, please. Cayenne, and thyme. Oh, and rosemary. Please.”

Mike places all of it in front of her, lips pinched in amusement. Kiara’s eyebrows pinch together as she mixes the spices together, periodically tasting and adding as she’d watched her father do. 

She adds a touch more paprika before combining it. “Could I have a palette cleanse?” 

She’d heard that on the food channel her Mom watched sometimes. 

Anna swallows her laugh. “Of course, honey. Juice?” 

“Water,” Kiara says, entirely too seriously. 

Mike bites his tongue to avoid laughing as Kiara takes a sip of water, tastes the gumbo, another sip, tastes her spice mixture, and then nods resolutely. “I’m ready.” 

Kiara adjusts so she’s on her knees and can see into the large pot. She places the spoon in, sprinkling her creation in as she stirs, tasting periodically before adding more. She places the dish down, stirring with finality. “Okay, it’s done.” 

She looks up to see her Mom tucked into her father’s side, hand over her mouth in amusement. “You sure?” Mike asks.

Kiara nods, offering him the spoon. “Taste.” 

He moves to lean over, but the couple knocks into a wayward kitchen chair before he can make it, causing Kiara to drop the spoon at the noise. 

Anna sighs, “this kitchen is entirely too small, Mike.” 

“Anna,” Mike begins.

“It’s dangerous.”

“It’s cosy,” Mike says. “It’s also temporary. We’ll get everything up and running.”

They seem to have forgotten their daughter in the room. “When?” Anna asks. “I’m making no progress with the Island Club, Mike.”

“We don’t need the Island Club right now,” Mike soothes, pulling Anna towards him. 

“We do if we want to move back to the OBX. Unless you want her to grow up where you did.” Anna says, an air of condescension to her words. 

Kiara narrows her eyes, confused. What’s wrong with their kitchen? 

“Of course I don’t, but we will make it back to that island on our own.” Her Dad says, “and we’ll do it right.”

He leans down to grab the forgotten spoon, throwing it in the sink and reaching for another. He stirs it into the pot, about to take a taste when Kiara swats his hand, holding out her water. “Palette cleanse, first. And blow.” 

Mike grins as Anna shakes her head. He takes a sip before blowing dramatically on the spoon. Kiara bites her lip nervously as he tastes it, a wide smile spreading across his face. “See, we have nothing to worry about because this little girl right here,” he gestures to Kiara, “is a culinary genius, who’s gonna write the menu for us.” 

Kiara smiles wide. “Good?” 

“Great, baby.” Mike says, scooping her up. “Here,” he offers the spoon to Anna, “taste.” 

She does, grinning at her daughter. “It’s amazing, honey.” 

“It’s going on the menu,” Mike says.

He pulls his girls into his arms, swaying them in a clumsy dance, Kiara giggling loudly. 

Later, after she’s gone to bed. Mike promises Anna their restaurant, a much larger kitchen, and that secure spot back on Figure 8. Only the best for his wife and daughter on his mind as he does. 

A few years later, Mike makes that dream come true. And Kiara admits as she learns to surf, and meets her friends that she loves Outer Banks more than she expected to. A watered down version of their family gumbo ends up being one of the most popular menu items and Kiara’s glad, she doesn’t really want just anyone having access to it. 

But they cook as a family a lot less now and she can’t help feeling a coldness that accompanies so much space. Remembers her Dad’s words from years ago, about the tiny kitchen being cosy. There’s nothing cosy about their new house. Her friends all tell her how lucky she is to have such a big house, so she never admits how much she doesn’t like it. She just spends as much time as possible at the Chateau.

***

Several years, a few failed treasure hunts and an entire high school career later, a 19 year old Kiara barges into the Chateau. 

JJ looks up from the couch, long past jumping at the sound of this particular door slamming, to see Kie, slightly dishevelled, with bags slung over her shoulder. He doesn’t get up, simply raises his eyebrows at the look on her face. 

She sweeps a few curls out of her face. “Were you serious about that whole bunk beds thing?” 

He blinks in surprise, flips his hat around and gestures to the kitchen. “Beer’s in the fridge.” 

Kie nods, dumping her bags on the floor. She moves to the fridge, barely closing it before she's cracked the beer open. JJ adjusts as she plops down, making room for her to throw her legs over his lap, huffing an irritated sigh as she does. 

They had the place to themselves. Pope and Sarah had been accepted to university programs, moving away to further their educations and John B had followed Sarah, leaving JJ in charge of the Chateau. 

It made him feel a bit better about pretty much everyone leaving, but it still always felt kinda empty without the chaos his friends usually brought. Uncharacteristically quiet. 

They hadn’t won any of their acclaimed treasure hunts, but by the end, not getting arrested or dying started to feel like the real win in the end. 

The pair sit in silence, JJ feeling the frustration rolling off Kie in waves, easing as she sips her beer. He settles into his spot, keeping his eyes on the TV, one hand moving to fiddle with her shoelace as he does. 

The part of him that’s still thirteen briefly considers tying them together, but she’s pissed enough. 

Also, they’re sort of adults now. And JJ likes to think he’s taken to it not terribly. 

Although if they were still thirteen Kie would’ve laughed her ass off even as she whipped her shoes at him. He grins a little at the thought. 

Eventually, he feels her relax completely, scooting closer as she curls to rest against the back of the couch, eyes on the TV as he rests his hand on her shin. 

An episode of Stranger Things later, he’s empty and Kie is too so he moves to get up. “Another?” 

She nods her assent, not taking her eyes off the screen. He drops the cans in the recycling on his way to the fridge, bringing more back with him. 

Kie’s smile is a fragile thing when he hands her another, lifting her legs to settle under them again. 

“How was work?” She breaks the silence. 

JJ grins at the topic, shrugging his shoulders. “Couple years at the shop and I think the boss might be starting to believe I’m not gonna steal from him.”

Kie nods. “Moving up in the world.” 

“Right?” 

They clink their cans together, before settling back into a comfortable silence. 

“So,” JJ begins, eyeing her bags, noting that it looks like she may have brought everything she owns. “Are you taking the pull out or a room?” 

Kie sighs, taking a long sip. “A room,” she says finally. 

JJ lets out a low whistle, nodding his head instead of voicing his confusion. He likes to think he knows dysfunctional family dynamics pretty well and the Carrera’s had seemed to be on a pretty good stretch. 

There’d been a hellish year after they were rescued from Poguelandia where he was lucky to talk to Kie for half an hour once every two months. But eventually they’d stopped getting shot at and the Carerra’s had come around. 

Kie had stuck around to work at the Wreck and with the beach clean up program as an event coordinator and leader, and as far as JJ knew things were pretty sympatico. 

Until now, obviously. 

It’s another long while before Kie speaks. “They always thought I’d come around,” she murmurs. “That I’d ‘see reason’ and go to one of the schools they picked for me.” 

JJ looks at her to see her eyes focused on the screen, fingers curled tightly around the can. “Anna wasn’t happy when she figured out that, that wasn’t gonna happen. Told me to figure out my own shit.” 

JJ nods. “Sounds familiar.”

“It was pretty reminiscent, actually.” Kie says, dark humour colouring her tone. “Not as dramatic as last time, but definitely more final.” 

He works to conceal his surprise. Doesn't tell Kie that in a way he understands why they figured she’d go eventually. Doesn’t tell her that, if he’s honest, he kinda did too. 

Probably for different reasons, but he’d thought it all the same. 

“I’m taking half the bathroom too,” she says, when he doesn’t say anything. 

JJ chuckles. “Half the shit in there is yours anyway, Kie.”

She flicks the bill of his hat, and they’re quiet for another moment before Kie shakes her head to herself, just a little. 

“Do you,” she starts. “Do you ever feel like you’re saying something so loudly, like you’re being so obvious, and so clear about who you are and how you feel and yet people still don’t hear you?” 

JJ chews on the inside of his cheek before sipping his beer. It takes him a moment to come up with a response, his hand flexes over her shin but luckily she seems a little too lost in thought to notice. “I’ve got some experience with that, I guess.” 

He cringes internally at his response, but she accepts it. “It’s been so long, I mean actual years. And I know we were stupid kids getting into trouble but I've always been this person.” 

He nods, “they’ll figure it out eventually Kie. And in the meantime it’s their loss anyway.” 

She shakes her head a little, something in him aches at the defeat on her face. “It’s like they don’t even want to hear. Like they don’t want to really know me.” 

“If that’s true, which I doubt it is, then they’re idiots.” JJ says and Kie finally looks up at him, questions in her eyes. “It would suck not to know you, s’all I’m sayin.’”

Kie smiles, “thanks Jage.”

“Yeah whatever,” he grumbles. 

“I don’t have to stay long,” she says, suddenly self conscious. “I know you just got the place to yourself, I can just stay till I get on my feet-”

“Or,” JJ interrupts. “You can stay as long as you damned want. We’ve got three years till John B and Sarah come to take it over again, and then I’ll have to find a new place anyway. No rush, Kie, I’m not sick of ya.” 

She smiles wide, and JJ fights a grin of his own at the sight of it. “Even if I only buy organic pescatarian food?”

JJ points to the door. “Get out.” 

Kie laughs, whacking him with a pillow. “Alright, help me unpack.” 

“See, I knew the whole bashful, ‘I don’t have to stay that long’ thing was bullshit.” He says as he follows her to her bags. “You really shouldn’t try to pull that with me Kie, I invented that.” 

“Oh really?” She says as she bends to pick up her bags. He doesn’t check her out, he doesn’t. 

Okay, he does.  

She turns and passes him one of her bags. “It looks like it worked from where I’m standing.” 

He scoffs in response but doesn’t really have a comeback, bringing her bag to John B’s old room, blanching a little when he opens the door and sees the mess waiting for them. 

He’s gonna kill John B. 

“So,” JJ turns before she can walk in. “It might have to be the pullout for tonight.” 

She raises an eyebrow at him, peering over his shoulder, shaking her head when she sees the damned disaster. “I thought he took everything.” 

“So did I.” 

Kiara chuckles a little bit. “It’s probably for the best, I should get my own sheets anyway.” 

JJ considers being offended before concluding that she’s probably right about that. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow, for food too.” 

They head back to the couch. “You don’t have work?” 

“Nah,” JJ says. “Not tomorrow, we can go, get you settled first.”

They resume their earlier position, closer than before. “Sounds good,” Kie says, exhaustion leaking into her voice. “Thanks Jay, really.” 

His eyes are closed, muscles aching from the day at work, it settles into his bones in an entirely new way that he’s not overly excited about. “Anytime Kie.” 

The sun wakes JJ up the next morning and regret washes over him instantly when he tries to lift his head and a sharp pain shoots down his spine. Kie’s legs are still strewn over his lap, shoes discarded, she’d definitely slept more comfortably than JJ had. 

He twists his neck left and right as he sits up, trying to stretch it out. He lifts Kie’s legs gently, careful not to wake her up as he stands, deciding to make some coffee and breakfast. Moody morning Kie has never been a treat to be around, but food usually helps. 

He’s always keyed up in the morning but as he sips on his coffee it seeps out of him. He tries to move as quietly as he can around the small kitchen, cringing a little as he cracks the eggs into a bowl. And again when they hit the pan and sizzle loudly. 

“Sh,” JJ scolds, closing his eyes against the noise.

He uses a wooden spoon to push the eggs around the pan gently, deciding to give them some more time to cook. He meanders around the living room, collecting the discarded cans from last night and tossing them. 

He walks back inside to a loud pop from the stove. “Shit,” he mutters, rushing to the stove, pushing the eggs around urgently. He sighs in relief when he sees that they’re not in terrible shape. 

Okay, so they’re a little burnt but he’s pretty sure his cousin told him that the charcoal in burnt food can whiten your teeth, so it’s fine. 

He sighs to himself, moving to start the toast, making sure the bread is actually edible before he does. Once it pops he seasons the eggs, taking them off the heat before adding some salt and pepper to them. 

Kie finally stirs once he’s plated everything. He pours her a cup of coffee, splash of sugar, no milk. 

JJ walks it over to her, waving it under her nose, chuckling as her eyelids flutter but never quite open. “Mornin’.” 

She groans as she sits up. JJ bites his cheek to avoid laughing as she blindly takes the coffee from him, inhaling deeply as she does. “Thanks.” 

“This is purely self preservation,” he jokes. “So don’t thank me.” 

Her eyes are still shut as she sits there, stretching her neck before taking a sip of coffee. She hums as she does. 

JJ tries to control his grin, really he does. 

“Probably smart,” she mumbles, finally opening her eyes. “Morning.” 

“Made breakfast too,” he says as casually as he can manage. 

Kie raises an eyebrow at that. “Damn, I didn’t know there was a breakfast special.” 

“Oh, you didn’t get the pamphlet? Sergio was supposed to give it to you on your way in.” JJ jests as he goes to get the plates, as well as the only two forks in the Chateau. 

“I must’ve missed him,” Kie smiles. 

“I’ll have a chat with him, Miss Carrera, don’t worry.” He places her plate in front of her before sitting at her side. 

She lets out a laugh at that, it’s a surprised sound, far too loud for the morning. JJ grins. “Well good, I wouldn’t want to have to give this place a bad yelp review.” 

Kie takes a bite of her eggs, choking almost immediately as she does. JJ startles, handing her her coffee. “You good?” 

She takes a long sip. “Yeah,” she clears her throat. “Just um, Jay did you drop salt in the pan or something?” 

JJ furrows his brow, confused. “No?” 

She stares at him for a moment, blinking rapidly through her confusion. She takes a bite of his eggs experimentally, finding the taste to be the exact same. “You mean to tell me you put this much salt on the eggs on purpose?”

“Kie, I seriously don’t know what you’re talking about.” JJ says, shovelling a bite of eggs into his mouth for good measure. 

She watches him closely, like she’s waiting for him to flinch or shrivel up like a grape under the sun. But they taste normal to him. Kie takes a bite of her toast, finding that to taste normal, and ultimately decides it’s not a prank. 

Her best friend is just a bit of a lunatic.

She shakes her head at him. “Everything you eat has this much salt on it?” 

JJ nods, still confused. He reaches to take a bite of her eggs, finding them to taste the same as his own. “Kie seriously, they’re fine.” 

“You must have to drink so much water.” She says, irritating amazement in her voice. 

He shrugs, taking another bite. “Nah, not really.”

“How are you not constantly dehydrated?” She asks. 

“Kie, I don’t need water, I’m already 70% water.” 

She almost laughs at his ridiculousness. “We’re not supposed to be 70% ocean water Jay, you’re gonna get a heart disease.” 

“Okay, that’s definitely an exaggeration.” It’s really not a lot of salt, he would know if it was a lot of salt. 

She puts the plate down on the table. “I’m teaching you how to cook, this is inedible.” 

JJ takes another bite, chewing slowly to make his point. “It’s fine. ”

Kie shakes her head in disbelief. “How are you alive?” 

“All the things that’ve tried to kill us over the years, you think salt is gonna do it?” 

“You’re not 17 on a treasure hunt anymore Jay,” she scolds. Kie gets up, darting around the kitchen. “What else are you missing here?” 

JJ shrugs, complacent. “JB took a bunch when he left.” 

She opens the fridge. “No water,” the cabinets, “three plates, one cup-” 

“I’m one person!” He defends, eyes narrowed.

She ignores him. “No spatulas, three steak knives, no forks.”

“The forks are over here.” He objects. 

“Two forks is not enough, JJ.” 

“Why not, we’re two people. You’re the one always talking about toxic consumerism and not having more than you need.” JJ points out. 

He watches as Kie debates ignoring him. “There are at least four other people who like us JJ, what if they wanna eat here? And if you say plastic-” 

“Okay, not every point is bad.” JJ admits. 

More cupboards. “No strainer, no mixing bowls, no spices. Seriously, how are you alive?”

"Hey, I'll have you know-"

“I’m amazed there’s bread and eggs.” She says, completely ignoring his protests. “Get ready, I’m showering and we’re going shopping.” 

“Feelin’ a little judged right now, Kie.” JJ calls after her. 

The only response he gets is the sound of the pipes squealing as the water turns on. 

If JJ had to sum up his enemies, they would be categorised as: kooks, badly rolled joints, and errands. 

It’d been an hour, an hour of picking glasses, listening to Kie mutter to herself about the merits of different pots and pans, attempting to give an opinion about different cutlery, and taking every opportunity to grab some mask or do something definitely embarrassing to make Kie laugh. 

Okay, so it hasn’t been all bad. 

But he’s bored. 

He grabs some tongs off the shelf, clicking them together loudly. “Kie, we probably need these right?”

She turns, half prepared to scold him before she sees what he’s holding. “JJ- wait, actually yes. Throw them in the cart.”

She reaches and grabs a knife set as he does so. “Damn Kie, we just moved in together and you’re already plotting?”

Kie rolls her eyes. “These are very basic kitchen knives, Jay.” 

“If you’re teaching me how to cook, am I gonna be using them?”

She gets a deer in the headlights look, as though she hadn’t considered that. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

“I should get like, a holster for them then. Cause ya never know when you’re gonna need em.” He picks up a wrapped display kitchen knife, mimicking a sword fight with it. 

She snatches it away from him, putting it back on the shelf.“JJ, what would you need them for so quickly that you can’t open the drawer and grab them?” 

“Super fast cooking emergency.” 

“No cooking is supposed to happen ‘super fast’.” Kie says, “I’m not training you to be a Mcdonalds employee. The only emergency is gonna be caused by you having knives holstered to your hips.” 

He considers her words. “....so for my birthday-” 

“No, JJ.” 

JJ grins as he follows her through the store.

“Damn,” he says as he looks in the cart. “You’re really decking us out here, got all the gourmet shit.”

“Well,” Kie says, examining something that looks like either a really small cheese grater or a really big nail file. “If I’m gonna teach you, you need the basics.” 

“Why’d you get a cupcake tin?” 

Kie doesn’t respond right away, walking slightly quicker. JJ laughs as he figures it out. “Kiara Carrera, stress baker?” 

She continues to walk away from him, so he tucks this new information away for later and jogs after her. “Can we make weed brownies?” 

She laughs like she can’t help it. “We get through your first lesson without burning the house down, then yes we can make weed brownies.”

“See, now I’m motivated.” JJ says.

***

They fall into an easy rhythm quickly. They both work, JJ at the shop and Kie gives up the Wreck, taking on the project full time. The evenings are reserved for their lessons, which rapidly shift from actual lessons to simply cooking together every evening. JJ habitually doubles the measurement of their meal wrong so there are leftovers. Not at all subtly packing them in the new tupperware for Kie to take for lunch after he noticed her coming home hungry and tired. 

He tries his hand at baking occasionally too, mostly with Kie. It doesn’t go over too well, he still doesn’t get the actual purpose of a sifter. But after about six months of living together, the calls from the Carrera’s pile in. Kie ignores them every time and JJ can’t figure out why, tries to ignore the gnawing in his gut when it sours her mood. He knows better than to ask, because really, he understands why she’s afraid to pick up the phone. 

But it grates at him just the same. 

On one particularly bad day, she’d gone out after listening to what JJ thought might be seven voicemails ranging from apologetic, to angry, to disappointed. So JJ had decided to bake without her, she’d come home to the kitchen being a complete disaster and a pan filled with what was meant to be several chocolate chip cookies but ended up blending into one poorly formed mega cookie. 

He cringed a little as he watched her take it in, expecting my God, JJ, really? He’d gotten more anxious, as she stood there frozen. “I, uh, tried my hand at stress baking. Might not be for me though. We could probably cut it up once it cools, make it something that resembles a batch of cookies-” 

He’d panicked as tears welled up in her eyes, pausing in horror. But abruptly she’d shaken her head and rushed up to him, wrapping her arms tightly around his middle, cheek pressed tightly to his chest. JJ returned the hug, tugging her closer as relief overwhelmed him. 

“Well, last week when I put veggies on the meat cutting board you damn near had my balls,” JJ commented. “But good to know there’s some leeway with cookies.” 

When Kie laughs it’s a wet sound. “You’re so ridiculous,” she’d mumbled softer than he thinks he’d ever heard her talk. 

He felt a little hazy, like he was crossing into newfound territory, but before he could examine it too closely she pulled away. “Also that was literally cross contamination. You could’ve poisoned us.” 

“The cutting board was clean , Kie.”

“Well, clean or not, that cutting board is for meat. I have a system Jage, certain cutting boards for certain things. And what we're not gonna do, is mess with that system.” She’d wiped her eyes, smiling at him. 

JJ rolled his eyes. “System?” He’d asked, reaching for a spoon, making a show of taking a bite directly out of the middle of the cookie. 

A gasp. “JJ!”

He’d laughed. “What?”

She’d pinched the bridge of her nose. “My god, the kitchen is a total mess, Jay. How did you even do this?” She gave the cookie a once over. “Did you sift? I see pockets of flour. Did you let the dough sit in the fridge for two hours before you baked it?”

A wrinkled brow. “What the hell would I do while I was waiting for two hours?”

“Jage, you need patience for baking.”

The rest of the afternoon had been spent trying to convince her to try the cookie and her adamantly refusing until a few hours and a joint later. 

Today, JJ woke up and Kie was gone, a note left on a fresh pot of coffee saying she’d be back soon (don’t go anywhere!!!) written after, underlined three times. So he shrugs, pours himself a cup of coffee as he tugs into a muffin-last week's project-and plops onto the couch.

When Kie comes home, her face isn’t visible, covered by arms filled with groceries. He leaps up from the couch rushing to grab a bag just as she begins to drop it. 

“Wanna explain this?” He asks. 

“Bring those bags to the kitchen, don’t put them away.” Kie says. 

JJ obeys, but eyes her in confusion. “We went grocery shopping last week, there a reason you went again?”

It’d become a pattern, doing what Kie calls spot grocery shopping , which JJ learned included trips to any farmers market she could find. “You can’t just buy a bunch of produce and then let it go bad in the fridge Jay, gotta buy a little every week.”

“I’ve decided that you’re ready.” Kie says, voice muffled by the bags in front of her face. 

JJ sighs as he takes more bags off her, setting them down on the counter, shaking his head a little at the lack of counter space. “Ready for?”

Her face is finally revealed as she starts taking insane amounts of seafood out of them and placing them on the kitchen table. “My God, Kie. What about the turtles?”

“All of it is locally sourced, from fisheries that don’t profit off killing the ocean. The Wreck has the same supplier.” She says, as though that’s an explanation for half of marine life being on their kitchen table. 

“Oh, well, if it’s local.” 

Kie nods, missing his sarcasm as she lays more and more ingredients out, folding the reusable bags one by one as she goes. “Can you get the big pot out from the cupboard, and three cutting boards?” 

JJ does as he’s asked, turning music on as well while Kie flutters frantically around the kitchen. “Kie,” she doesn’t stop. “Kie!” 

She pauses, eyes wide, bun bobbing comically as she looks at him. “Wanna include me in whatever’s happening?”

She grins wide. “We, are making gumbo.” 

JJ raises his eyebrows. “Like the seafood gumbo from the Wreck?”

“Pfft,” she scoffs. “No way, that recipe's only for tourons.” 

JJ doesn’t think he’s particularly introspective, but he does take a moment to wonder if this is what he looks like when he gets on a tangent about C.H.U.D . “Oh!” Kie says, grabbing more ingredients out of another bag. “Oh! And, we're making homemade biscuits.”

“Okay, sounds good.” JJ says, reaching for Kie’s hands where they’re waving over the bags with a flourish that’s almost anxious. “D’you wanna breathe first though?” 

Kie stares at their conjoined hands for a moment too long before she responds. “I’m breathing," she says, scorned. 

He simply raises an eyebrow at her and she rolls her eyes before making a show of taking a deep breath in and out. 

She doesn’t let go of his hand, even after she’s done, and he really tries not to read into it. 

“So,” JJ says, breaking the silence. “We’re making gumbo.” 

“Yes,” she confirms, releasing his hands to wash her own. “You are partaking in a Carrera tradition today, wash your hands.” 

JJ hides his surprise at the mention of her parents, moving to do so as she dries her own. “Where do you want me, Ramsey?”

She swats him with a dish towel. “Veggies. Onion, celery, bell peppers, mushrooms. But the pieces have to be even, minced as small as possible.” 

JJ nods, it was one skill he'd taken too quite quickly. “How much of each?”

Kie waves a hand. “Just chop it all, we’ll freeze what we don’t use.”

He’s about to ask, but she’s already turning the stove on and getting to work on whatever needs to be done. Normally, she talks during this time, giving him a play by play of everything she’s doing, but instead she hums along to Strawberry Sunscreen as he chops. 

Once he’s done, he dumps them into the waiting pot leaning back just in time for Kie to lean forward and preheat the oven. She puts the mountain of seafood onto the kitchen table, wiping the counter down before they get to work on the biscuits, JJ mostly grating cheese and sneaking pieces as he goes. 

He’s kneading the formed dough when she shakes her head, smiling.“No, Jage, if you overwork the dough it’s gonna be tough. We want soft biscuits.” 

“Maybe I want tough biscuits, I don’t wanna just be sending biscuits out into the world not knowin’ what’s really out there.” 

“Jay, that is not how baking works.” But she’s laughing. 

“It is if you like your baked goods to be independent.” 

She bats his hands away from the dough. “JJ, no.”

After what feels like a year of cooking-yes it’s an exaggeration but it actually has been like 6 hours, give him a break-he’s lining up spices in tiny bowls. He’s already lost the “why can’t we just put the spices in as we scoop them? We’re making extra dishes” argument.

He washes his hands a final time, the sink filling up. “This kitchen is definitely too tiny for this.” 

She shakes her head adamantly, overlooking the spices. “This kitchen is perfect.”

“This one’s perfect?” JJ raises his eyebrows. “It’s like a third of the size of the one on Figure 8.”

She tenses just a little, but doesn’t throw any walls up. “Like I said.”

“Anyway,” she says, before he can ask any questions. “The little dishes are because we don’t use all of each spice. It’s all to taste.”

JJ rubs his eyes, he’s heard the words “I told you there’s no recipe, Jage” enough times today to not ask anymore questions. Instead opting to watch and she sprinkles certain spices in, taste testing as she goes. 

He’d seen her cook here, and had watched her cook at the Wreck. She’d always followed a recipe, but here she was, looking completely in her element as she relied on eyeballing and taste testing like she’d done this a million times. 

Once she gets to the end of her line, JJ watches as she takes the remaining spices, mixing them together in a new dish, still tasting periodically before adding it. When she’s finally done, she huffs a laugh. “Alright,” she stirs once more before pulling the spoon out and offering it to JJ. “Blow.” 

“Yeesh,” he jokes. “Take a guy out first.”

She doesn’t waver, holding the spoon in front of him. He shakes his head, blowing before tasting a bit.

Amazing, as always. He tells her as much. 

“Great,” she enthuses. “Now, it’s your turn.”

He blinks at her, beyond confused. 

“The rule with Carrera gumbo is, once you cook it with someone and they’re ready, you have them taste it and add something, and then that’s the new recipe. Last person to change it was me.” She says, proudly. “My Dad said that once you did it, you were officially a Carrera.”

He blinks again. “And you want me to add something?” 

“Well, yeah.” She says, looking nervous, suddenly rubbing her hands on her shirt. “I mean, you don’t have to. I just thought-”

“No, no, no.” He rushes. “I want to. Gimme the spoon.”

Kiara grins and that makes the sudden knot in his stomach worth it. “No pressure or anything. My Mom added three bay leaves when Dad had her add to the recipe.”

“What if I wanted to add something crazy, like chicken legs?” He asks. 

She pokes him in the side, grinning as he cringes away from her. “Then I’d say you missed your window, all the meat gets cooked first.”

“Carrera’s are con artists.” 

“Obviously.” She confirms. 

“Okay, you gotta go sit in the living room while I do it though.” JJ says. 

Kiara raises an eyebrow. “Performance anxiety?”

“Get out , Carrera.”

She laughs all the way to the living room, but keeps her focus on the TV as he mixes his addition together, tasting each spice and the gumbo multiple times before deciding. He decides to mix cumin, white and black pepper and pink himalayan salt. 

He sprinkles it in, stirring and tasting as he goes like he watched Kie do. Once he’s satisfied he calls Kie back in, who drinks some water before tasting. 

“Not bad,” she says, but her grin gives her away. “What’d you add?”

He kisses his teeth. “I don’t think I’m gonna tell you.”

“What?” She gapes. “That wasn’t the deal.”

A pinched brow. “Hm, you really shoulda specified. That wasn’t in the fine print.”

“JJ.”

“Sorry, officer.”

Dark eyes blink rapidly up at him and he meets them, unwavering. “Tell me!” She insists. 

A shrug. “Guess.”

“Really, Jay?” 

He nods, unrepentant. “I’ll give you a hint, I added four things.”

Kie nods, taking another taste off the spoon thoughtfully. “Cumin,” she says, grinning when he nods his assent. “White pepper, salt, and… black pepper?”

Her brow is pinched in focus and he tries not to grin but doesn’t quite make it. “Damn, I’m impressed. But you got the salt wrong.”

He holds up the bottle with the pink rocks laughing as she rolls her eyes. “Close enough, I can’t believe you added salt in the first place.”

“My roots, Kie. Can’t deny ‘em.” 

Later, when they’re finally eating the meal they spent an entire day slaving over, he looks up to see Kie considering him as she fiddles with her spoon.

“What?” He asks.

“Can I ask you something?” Her voice is uncharacteristically quiet, but the curiosity is evident enough that JJ knows she really wants to ask. 

He shrugs. “Sure.”

“The salt thing…” she trails off, eyes focused on her bowl. “You’re honestly better at mincing than I am, you can cook really well and it took you no time at all to learn how to spice things properly. Why did you do that for so long?”

A pause. JJ chews the inside of his cheek for a moment before taking a breath. “Uh,” he rubs the palms of his hands on his shorts. “My, uh, my Mom.”

Kiara stays silent, waiting for him to continue. “She wasn’t a great cook,” he chuckles to himself, just a little, the sound not belonging entirely to him. “Everything was always burnt around the edges and somehow cold in the middle, the texture was always weird as hell.”

She grins a little at that, but doesn’t interrupt. “But it made her so happy, I mean shit, even Luke pretended to like her cooking. And everything she made was always super salty, like she was trying to make up for what was burnt.” 

Another chuckle pulled from him. He feels some distant part of him tugging, trying to pull him deeper into the memories. He shakes his head a little. “And I guess, after she split, I just picked up the habit. And apparently it stuck.”

She nods thoughtfully, taking another bite. He’s not sure what to make of her silence, but at least she’s not giving him the social worker look. 

She finishes chewing, swallowing before meeting his eyes. “Y’know, before we moved back to the OBX, my parents and I lived in this tiny house on the mainland. Smaller than the Chateau.” Kie grins fondly, clasping her hands under her chin. 

“It’s where my Dad taught me how to cook, where I added my spice mix to the gumbo. We had this tiny, tiny kitchen. Mom was always tripping on the chairs and whenever we cooked I sat on the counter and arranged the spices.” 

She wrings her fingers together, looking down. “But then they bought the Wreck, and we moved onto Figure 8. Which, of course, was this great thing for them. But then life got busy, and we didn’t cook as a family anymore and that closeness just sort of,” she lets a sweeping hand finish her sentence. 

A weak shrug. “I don’t know, I guess I never stopped missing it.”

It’s something he didn’t know about her. Maybe the only thing. The Pogues had always assumed that they’d lived in some mansion with Anna’s parents before coming to the OBX. Kie never said anything to the contrary. Until now. 

***

The next time Anna calls Kie, she’s in the shower. JJ catches the ringing phone on the table on his way out the door, answering without seeing who’s calling. 

“Oh, Kiara, finally!” JJ gulps instantly. 

“Hi, Mrs. Carrera.” He interrupts, before she can continue. 

The pause is heavy, JJ considers hanging up but stays on. 

“JJ?”

“Uh, yeah.” He sniffs. “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Is Kiara there?” 

“She uh,” luckily JJ’s brain works fast enough to prevent him from telling Anna Carrera that her daughter is in the shower so he’s answering her phone. “She’s out right now, forgot her phone.”

“Has she been staying with you this whole time?”

He’s had some bad ideas, but he thinks not hanging up might be his worst one yet. “Yeah, yeah there’s an extra room at the Chateau. She’s been here awhile.”

He hears her talking to someone on the other line, probably Mike, but it’s muffled enough that JJ can’t make it out. 

“Well,” hesitance marks her every word. “Just, just please tell Kiara to call us. Please.”

“Yeah,” he nods, though she can’t see him. “Yeah, I will. For sure.” 

He hears her sigh before going to hang up. “Wait, um, Mrs. Carrera.”

“Yes?”

“Why don’t,” he lifts his hand where it rests on the back of his head before placing it back there. “Why don’t you and Mr. Carrera come over for dinner, on Saturday?”

“Really?”

Now he’s heard Anna Carerra’s voice a lot of ways. Angry, overly polite, judgemental, the tinged tone that Kie deemed her supreme kook voice. 

But never once has he heard her sound small. 

“Yeah,” he insists. “Yeah, I think Kie would like it. Six okay?”

He hears more muffled sounds on the other side of the phone before Mike’s voice comes on. 

“Six is perfect, JJ. Thank you.”

He sighs as they hang up, tension coiling in his stomach. He’ll have to find a way to tell Kie, he sets her phone back down on the table. 

When he looks up, Kie is standing in the doorway, scrunching her hair with a towel absentmindedly. “Who was that?”

He throws a thumb over his shoulder to the door. “Y’know, I shouldn’t be late, boss is on my ass enough-”

She instantly pauses at his tone. “Who was it, Jay?” He’s quiet for a moment, trying to decipher if the calm in her voice is anteceding a hurricane or if the storm might pass them. 

“Your parents. I answered by accident, honest.” A hand comes to rub the back of his neck. “But, I might’ve invited them to dinner, Saturday.” He admits, clasping his hands together and releasing them before he continues, walking towards her. “Kie, look.” He says, before she can say anything. “I know, it’s none of my business, but this is eatin’ you. I can see it and look-”

He takes a breath when Kie’s expression doesn’t change, dark eyes unreadable as she takes the towel away from her hair. “If you don’t want to see them, or talk to them. If you’re done with ‘em, really done, I’ll call them back and cancel, okay?”

“Jage-”

His hands come to rest on her shoulders, her curls wet against his hand. “I wasn’t thinkin that clearly but you don’t seem happy and obviously neither are they-”

“Jage!” The tiniest of grins has curved its way onto her lips, stopping him in his tracks.“It’s fine,” she says.

He gapes for a moment, speechless. “I mean, am I excited? No.” A chuckle. “But you’re right, we have to talk at some point and the fact that they’re even willing to come here says something, right?”

JJ nods, not quite recovered. She smiles, “one condition though.”

“Sure,” he agrees. 

“Please, do not, leave me alone with them unless I ask. Okay?” She purses her lips as she looks up at him, eyes darting around after a moment. 

JJ nods, thinking more clearly this time. “‘Course not, Kie.”

She grins, “okay. Go to work. You’re gonna be late.” She glances at the time, “so am I. Shit.”

***

When Saturday rolls around, Kie decides to make the gumbo again. The decision makes something built from nerves roil in JJ’s gut. Something ugly carefully crafted by the words of his father, 20 years of judgement from Kooks and Pogues alike, and the Maybank stain splattered across him like big red letters spelling not worthy. 

He likes to think he’s outgrown some of these thoughts, he’s even started to believe Kie when she disagrees with everything anyone’s ever said. But now, as he waits for the Carrera’s to come into his safe space and try a family recipe that he’d altered. 

Shit. Yeah, he’s nervous. 

Kie spots it right away, placing a hand on his shoulder as he chops a little too aggressively. “Hey,” she says. “It’s not too late to cancel, Jage. I can call and tell them we can talk somewhere else.”

JJ shakes his head. “S’just dinner right?”

Kie nods, “just dinner. We won’t get them drunk enough to make them stay.”

“Can we get drunk before they get here?” He asks, only half kidding. 

“I filled your flask, just in case.” 

Okay, subtext aside, he loves her.

He just does. 

He almost tells her but instead what comes out of his mouth is something along the lines of you’re the best, the words burning on their way out. 

But he’s long past fearing that she might see it somewhere on his face, so he holds her gaze for a moment before returning to his chopping. 

When the time comes to add the spices, he hesitates. But Kie wordlessly steps aside once she’s done to make room for his addition. He smiles, doubt melting away for the moment as he works, not shying away even as he feels Kie’s eyes on him. 

(Sittin’ On) the Dock of The Bay plays as they allow the gumbo to simmer, moving to do the dishes. His nerves melt as they work, elbow to elbow, Kie flicking him with water more often than not. 

“No, seriously Jage. How did you manage to get every utensil dirty?” She laughs as she hands him a now clean ladle.

“Listen, I don’t think Ms. Eight-Thousand Spice dishes can say anything about unnecessarily dirty dishes.” He shoots back. 

Her laugh is an offended sound as she whacks him with a dish towel. He moves quickly to grab it off her, arms circling her waist as she whips it behind her back. 

“No, you don’t.” He chuckles as his hands make quick work at her waist, laughing as she yelps, jumping away from him as he snatches the towel back. 

Not one to be beat, she lunges for the towel but he catches her wrist, quickly twirling her out and away from him. Their laughter mingles in the air of the small kitchen as he yanks her back to him, causing her to fall into him. 

“You’re such an idiot.” She laughs, making no effort to move away. 

Shit, had she always looked at him like that? 

Dish towel forgotten, his other hand falls to her waist once more as their grins fall into something softer, fonder. 

JJ feels warm from the inside out, feels like he does when he’s lying in the hammock after a day of surfing, sunburn keeping him warm in the cool evening as he smokes, still buzzing from the day. Emboldened, he curls their fingers together, his hand at her waist pulling her closer still. 

Her free hand comes to rest on his neck, thumb gently caressing the spot where it meets his jaw. He swallows a groan, hopes she can’t feel his heart racing. Kie’s eyes drop to his lips as he watches her bite down on her own. 

He sucks in a breath, damning the consequences and swooping down towards her when a loud knock snaps them out of it. 

They both jump, JJ instantly dropping his hands as though he’s about to get in trouble for daring to touch something he was never supposed to. But Kie’s quicker to recover, moving the hand he’d dropped to his arm as she laughs a little breathlessly. 

She leans to rest her forehead on his shoulder as she takes a deep breath. “That’s definitely them, pour some wine please? Just two glasses, my Dad will have beer.”

He nods dazedly as she moves away, mouthing thank you as she moves to answer the door. JJ shakes his head a little to snap out of it before moving to grab the wine glasses, adding ice to Kie’s before he pours and sets them by the bowls, moving quickly to fill them as well. 

“Is that gumbo I smell?” He hears Mike say as Kie leads them toward the table. 

“Yessir,” JJ says once they’re in view. 

He can see the tension lined in Anna’s shoulders as she eyes Kie nervously, as though sizing her daughter up. 

Kie’s not in much better shape, lips pursed as she smiles at JJ tightly. He smiles at her, hoping to convey reassurance as he tugs her chair out. Her smile softens as she sits, if only slightly. “I taught it to JJ a few weeks ago, thought it might be nice.” Kie says as JJ takes his spot next to her. 

“It is,” Anna says as the pair sit down across from them. “Thank you.”

No one eats. JJ hides a grimace at the tension hanging in the air. 

“Kiara,” Anna begins. 

“No,” Kie shakes her head. “Mom, I don’t want to beat around the bush and I don’t want excuses.”

“Well, now I don’t see how that tone is appropriate.” Anna says, biting back instantly. 

“Anna-” Mike starts, JJ thinks he might be as uncomfortable as he is. 

“Oh come on,” Kie says. “You can’t kick me out and then get offended by my tone. ”

Anna does look a little chastised at that, but JJ watches her tilt her chin out like he’s seen Kie do a million times anyway. “You haven’t been answering our calls-”

“I wasn’t ready to talk.” Kie shrugs. 

“But now you are,” Mike mediates, hand on his wife's shoulder. “That’s why we’re here.” 

Anna shakes her head, not quite ready to give up control. “Please, how can we really talk here?”

Something in JJ caves in at that, some ancient, small part of him resurfacing as he readies to offer to make himself scarce, to not intrude on their family. 

Kie’s eyes narrow. “Anything you have to say to me, you can say in front of JJ.” 

“Yes,” Mike emphasises. “We can, Anna, that's why we’re here.”

Abruptly, JJ remembers Kie’s eyes on him as she made him promise not to leave her alone with them. Her lack of anger at his intrusion when he’d made plans for them to come here. Something he’s sure he’d’ve gotten an ear full for three years ago. 

He beats that small, unsure part of him back where it belongs and grabs Kie’s hand under the table, thumb sweeping over the back of her hand. 

Her eyes meet his, anger melting as he smiles at her, squeezing her hand in reassurance. 

It all feels worth it, when she smiles at him, squeezing back before turning back to her parents, taking a deep breath. “Look, I don’t want to fight.” 

Her lip quivers, if only a little. “I guess I just want to know why.”

Something in JJ fractures just a little at that. 

Anna and Mike look small at Kie’s blatant honesty. “Well,” Anna starts. “Honey, we just thought you’d change your mind about everything if you spent some time on your own.” 

“I didn’t,” Kie says, calmer now but JJ can feel the brewing fight in her below the surface. 

“We know,” Mike says. “And we agreed,” he glances at Anna, “that it was wrong to try to pressure you in the first place.” 

“We did,” Anna admits, if a little too hesitantly. Kie’s chin inches up just a little, she doesn’t drop his hand. “Sweetie, we just want you to have everything you want, give you every possible opportunity.” 

Kie sighs, free hand running over her face before cupping her chin. “I know, and it’s never been that I don’t appreciate how hard you guys have worked. I’ve just been telling you who I am, and what I care about for so long.” A pause, she squeezes JJ’s hand. “And it just feels like you’ve never been willing to hear me when I tell you that I already have everything that I want.”

And hell, if that doesn’t knock the wind out of him. 

Mike reaches across the table, taking Kie’s other hand. “If you’re ready to talk, we’re ready to listen. You’re old enough to know what you want, we don’t want to stand in the way of that anymore.” 

Anna nods, tears abruptly filling her eyes. “We’re sorry, Kiara. Really. And whatever you’re doing with your life, we just want to be a part of it.” 

“Thank you,” Kie whispers, and JJ knows it’s a great effort to fight back the tears in her eyes. He squeezes her hand once more as she blinks rapidly, chuckling a little. “We should eat, it’s no good cold.” 

“Hey now,” Mike says, removing his hand from Kie’s and picking up his spoon. “I resent that.” 

JJ finds himself chuckling with them all as Anna grins sympathetically at her husband. “She has a point, babe.” 

“Unbelievable,” Mike says as he takes a bite. “Mm, amazing as always. I was worried you might’ve taught him the recipe from the Wreck.” 

Kie laughs as they all begin to eat. “Absolutely not, I refuse to make that for anybody but tourons.”

Anna smiles, just a demure curve of her lips. Disarming. “My goodness, we’re being rude. So, JJ, what have you been up to?” 

It’s disguised well enough but JJ can feel the interrogating undertone, gets confirmation when Kie’s shoulders tense once again and Mike glances at his wife in something as affectionate as it is wary. 

JJ straightens instantly. “Well, I’ve been working mostly.”

Mike nods, a far more reassuring grin on his face. “Where’re you working?”

“The shop mostly,” JJ shrugs, unashamed. “Mostly cars but I help out with boats on the side. Lot of the mechanics ‘round here rob people who don’t know better blind so I help ‘em out.” His nerves build as he talks, spilling out. “Pope ran off to be a genius so I help the Heywards out as much as I can.” 

Kie swipes her thumb over the back of his hand and when he looks at her she’s grinning fondly at him. “And,” she emphasises, turning back to her parents. “He’s just started teaching some of the kids to surf, he’s got a class every Sunday.”

JJ purses his lips, suddenly bashful as Mike and Anna’s eyebrows raise as though they’re impressed. “You help with that one.” 

Kie grins, unwilling to let him sell himself short once again. “No, I just go with you and surf all day. You do the teaching.” 

He shrugs once more. “The kids are good with it, they learn pretty quick.” 

“That all sounds great,” Anna says. And to her credit, she does sound like she means it. “It must be tiring though, having to work that much.” 

JJ shakes his head. “I don’t really have to, we’d be fine with just the shop, but I like to keep busy. Idle hands and all that.” 

“Oh,” Kie says. “Speaking of, I forgot to tell you I saw Heyward sneak money into your wallet again after we helped them last time.” 

Mike chuckles as JJ sighs heavily in irritation. “You don’t take money for that one, son?” 

“Try not to.” JJ says, a little too frustrated with the Heyward’s kindness to notice the way the Carrera’s seem to have softened to him. “I’ll give it back next time I see him.” 

Kie shakes her head, returning to her food. “He won’t take it, plus it makes Yvonne happy. We’ll just bring them what’s left of the gumbo tonight and some of whatever we make this week. Now eat.” 

JJ shakes his head but complies, grumbling to himself as he slumps in his seat. He almost forgets the Carrera’s are there until he hears them laughing softly. “Sorry,” he mutters, feeling caught for some reason he can’t quite figure out. Isn’t sure he likes the way their eyes keep darting between him and their daughter as though they know something he doesn’t.

“No, no, that’s okay.” Anna says, honest to god, grinning before turning to her daughter. “What about you?”

“Well,” Kie says, all the tension gone from her form. “I took on the beach project full time. It started as just helping with the clean ups and organising, but now I’m also doing volunteer outreach. If I can get enough volunteers my boss will let me start up a regular sea turtle launch, which could hopefully expand to replace the habitat they took out a few years ago. Depends on money, but it’s actually looking good right now.” 

JJ grins, something like pride puffing his chest just a little. The days of Kie coming home exhausted and irritated had been long gone since she’d been given more control at the project. She remembered her lunch more often and came home energised most days. Whenever JJ got off early he’d try to meet Kie and pretend to help out, just to see her in action-bossy Kie is hot okay? He’s only human.

“It’s more than looking good.” JJ interjects. “They love her down there, I give it another few months before she’s running the place. Savin’ the world one baby sea turtle at a time,” JJ says, his smile never wavering as he looks at her. 

She rolls her eyes fondly. “Maybe not the world, hopefully the coast.” 

Anna’s eyes flicker between the pair, her finger curved under her chin as she considers them. “And you’re happy?” 

“I am,” Kie says, resolute.

Anna nods, leaning back in her chair, appearing relaxed for the first time all evening. Mike kisses his teeth suddenly, taking another bite of gumbo thoughtfully. “Hey, is it different?” 

Kie raises her eyebrows. “What?” 

JJ tenses abruptly, considers dropping Kie’s hand. “The gumbo,” Mike says. “Tastes a bit different.” 

“Oh,” Kie says, appearing relieved. JJ wishes he could say the same. “When I taught it to JJ it felt right to carry on the tradition, so he added something at the end.” She laughs to herself. “He made me sit in the living room and everything while he did it.”

The Carrera’s do nothing to conceal their shock, the pause stretching between them until JJ is nearly overcome with the urge to bolt. 

Mike breaks it, taking another taste. “Cumin?” He asks JJ. 

“Yeah,” JJ rushes bashfully. “And a few other things.” 

He feels like he should apologise. But Kie squeezes his hand once again, so he doesn’t. 

Mike nods, like this has confirms some suspicion he has. “Well, it’s a welcome addition. Pretty damn good, if I do say so myself.” 

“Thank you, sir.” God, he feels sixteen. 

Mike chuckles. “Why don’t you just call me Mike?” 

“Sure,” JJ nods, but doesn’t say it. 

Later, Kie and Mike are doing the dishes while JJ gives Anna a tour of the Chateau. They’d super cleaned before cooking, trying to get rid of any and all evidence that anyone actually lived here. They’d done a decent job, JJ didn’t know the Chateau could look picturesque, but it was pretty damn close. 

He’d made sure to tuck in the pull out couch just before they’d begun cooking. It was out most of the time, as the habit of the two of them sleeping on it had grown. It’d started as both of them falling asleep on the couch watching movies, either waking each other up in the middle of the night and going to their respective rooms, or waking up in the morning with cricks in their necks. 

Eventually Kie had had the forethought to pull the couch out, just in case. “ We should probably start taking potential back problems seriously,” she’d joked. 

It’d started with only a few nights a week, after an especially long day, they’d fall asleep on the pull out, or weekends when a binge got out of hand and they no longer had the teenage exuberance to keep them up till dawn. 

But then it’d progressed to almost every night, both of them barely seeing their rooms. The pull out hadn’t been a couch in a long time, they slept together in it so often that Kie had started changing the sheets regularly. 

Neither of them brought it up, always woke up as though it was completely normal that they shared a bed every night. And it’s not as if it’s never happened before, all four of them used to squish on it when they were kids after Big John had gone to bed, and they’d often collapsed after one too many beers or joints at the boneyard. 

But something about this was different. 

“So, JJ,” Anna says as they stand in the sun room, pulling him out of his thoughts. “How long have you and Kiara been together?” 

JJ blanches, he clears his throat. “We’re uh, we’re not together Mrs. Carrera.” 

“You can call me Anna,” her smile seems genuine and that freaks him out more than anything. 

“Right,” he says, clasping his hands together. Though, similarly to with Mike, he doesn’t. “But, we’re not together.” 

She only raises an eyebrow. “Really? There’s nothing going on?” 

And shit he doesn’t think he can answer that one honestly, not if he really thinks about it. So he only nods, doesn’t know what else to do. 

Anna hums to herself. “Y’know, we always kinda thought there was something going on with you guys. Even in high school. Nothing ever happened?” 

“No,” he stutters, shocked. “No, ma’am, never.”

“Anna,” she corrects, eyeing him.

“Anna,” he concedes, knowing a stubborn Carrera woman when he sees one. 

“Well, by all means take your time,” Anna says. “But you should know that Mike didn’t let me alter that gumbo until after we were already married.” 

JJ whistles, pretends he doesn’t feel like he’s taken a blow to the stomach. 

“You should also know,” Anna says, “that my daughter is well aware that he waited that long.”

JJ coughs. “That so?”

“Mhm,” she says. “Come on, let’s go see if they’re done bickering over how to properly wash that damned pot.” 

He manages a chuckle. “Yeah, Kie doesn’t let me touch it.” 

Anna rolls her eyes, but it’s a fond thing. “Like father, like daughter.”

When they get back inside, Mike and Kie’s conversation is muffled, they aren’t able to make it out till they get closer and amazingly, it’s Anna who shushes JJ and keeps them out of sight. 

“Kiara,” Mike starts, “I really do want you to know that we regret how we acted-” 

“I know, Dad.” Kie says. JJ can almost see her nod. “I mean, it sucked, but it’s okay. We’ll fix things, I promise.” 

Mike sighs. “I’m glad, but we also want you to know that you can come back, you don’t have to but if you, if you want to come back there’s always space for you. Hell, I think your mother always figured you’d come back, kept everything in your room just as it was.”

JJ’s stomach drops, he feels Anna’s eyes on his face but he’s too focused on Kie’s response to disguise his interest. 

“Thank you, Dad.” Kie says, and JJ blinks rapidly, his head ducking slightly. “But I’m really okay,” she continues. “I’m happy here, it’s close to work. It’s a good arrangement.” 

“I know you’re happy,” Mike concedes. “But what about when those friends of yours come back, I’m sure they’re gonna want to live here. It’s too small for all of you.” 

JJ’s pretty positive Kie shrugs. “Sure, but we’ve got a few years before that happens. Plus by then we’ll be well into our twenties so we’ll just get another place.” 

The heaviness in his chest disappears at Kie’s use of we , like it was inevitable that they’d keep living together even if they didn’t have to. JJ pretends not to see Anna raise an eyebrow at him in his peripheral vision. He purses his lip against a grin, wonders when they’d start talking about things like that, like they’d approach everything as a unit from then on, wonders briefly if maybe it had always been like that. If they’d ever actually been just JJ and Kie, two separate entities, thinks maybe they never were, not entirely. 

Kie's words come back to him, "I already have everything that I want."

Mike picks up on it as well, “we?” he prods gently. 

“Yeah,” Kie says, sounding a bit nervous. “Yeah, I mean, we’re pretty well off alone but it’s not like rent prices are going down anytime soon. S’long as he’s not sick of me, I don’t see why we wouldn’t keep living together.”

JJ has to bite his lips as his smile gets out of control. “That the only reason?” Mike asks gently. 

The tap starts up, “we should finish this,” she evades. “There’s not much to tour at the Chateau.” 

“Kiara-” Mike starts.

“And,” Kie interrupts. “I could come back, to the Wreck I mean, whenever I’m free. If you need the help. I could send my schedule.” 

JJ looks to see Anna smile widely at that, hand over her chest. 

“We’d love that, sweetheart.” Mike says. 

Anna and JJ take that time to enter, looking to see Mike pulling Kie into a tight hug. “Well, did you finally agree on how to take care of that pot?” 

Anna walks up, curling into her husband's side and reaching to cup Kie’s face as she shakes her head. “Absolutely not,” they say in unison. 

JJ grins at the sight. 

“Well, honey, we should probably get going.” Anna says. “Thank you for having us,” she glances at JJ. “Both of you.” 

JJ nods. “Anytime.” 

“Really,” Kie echoes. 

They hug their daughter once more before heading out. Mike grins at JJ and claps him on the back on the way out. 

The door clicks shut behind them and for a moment it’s silent. 

Kie huffs out a breath that’s half a laugh, hands on her hips as she nearly topples over in relief. “Oh my god, thank god.”

JJ laughs, he can’t help it. “Wasn’t half bad.” 

“Yeah,” Kie laughs. “Because of you.” 

She’s hugging him before he can respond, forehead pressed against his shoulder as he feels her breathe out a sigh of relief. “Seriously, Jage, thank you.” 

He shrugs, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Didn’t really do anything, Kie.” 

She shakes her head, and he feels her grinning where her face is pressed into his chest. Tries not to make it obvious that he’s struggling to breathe. “I would not have gotten through that without you,” she says it into his skin, and his hands shake, just a little. 

He tugs her in tighter, closes his eyes as he rests his cheek on her head. “JJ Maybank to the rescue,” he jokes. “But anytime, Kie, really.”

And he means it. 

She pulls back, grinning up at him before letting him go, hands trailing down his chest as she does so. “Okay,” she sniffs. “I’m gonna rewash that pot quickly, but the rest of the gumbo is in tupperware, should be enough there to feed the Heywards for a week. We can run it over after I’m done?” 

JJ nods, “yeah, sure.” 

Outside, in a truck on their way back to Figure 8, the Carrera’s are smiling at the victory of having their daughter back in their lives.
“JJ said they’re not together,” Anna says, absentmindedly. 

Mike nods, hands on the steering wheel. “Kiara said the same thing. You believe ‘em?” 

“I think they think they’re not together.” Anna concedes. 

“That doesn’t mean they’re not,” Mike chuckles. 

“No,” Anna nods. “It doesn’t, just means our daughter might have her mother’s penchant for denial.” 

Mike laughs. “Wanna take bets on how long it’ll take them?”

“You’re on.” 

***

It’s Thanksgiving when the Pogues are reunited, everyone shoving into the Chateau for dinner. John B and Sarah are cuddled together on the couch, Cleo and Pope next to them as they watch their friends cook for them.
“So,” JJ says, handing Kie a glass of wine. “Which one of us is the Susan chef again?” 

Kie shakes her head, accepting the glass of wine, taking a long pull before going back to peeling potatoes. “Jage, you know it’s sous chef and you know it’s you. Now start the stuffing.” 

“Yes ma’am.” He grins, flipping the knife he’s holding and catching it confidently. 

John B bites back a snicker as Kie flinches at the action. “JJ, I’m so serious right now. Stop it.”

“C’mon Kie, it’s JJ.” John B says, “he’ll catch it.” 

“Uh uh,” Kie says. “I don’t wanna hear anything you have to say after you left JJ with one cup in this entire house.”

John B blanches as Sarah gapes at him. “Babe, you left him with one cup?” 

“He’s one person!” John B complains. 

JJ laughs as he wanders over to the prepared bread and begins ripping it into pieces. “Dishes aside, you should have some faith, Kie.”

She waves the peeler at him. “I will not have faith, because half the time you flip something and you catch it, and the other half, we go to the ER.” 

Sarah laughs. “That sounds more accurate.” 

“All evidence points to Kie being right.” Pope chimes in. 

“Wow,” JJ says, feigning hurt. “Some friends I have.”

Kie doesn’t waver. “Jage, seriously, I do not want to go to the hospital today.” 

He looks up, shocked. “Wait, you don’t?” 

She sighs, “JJ-”

“Are you sure?” He continues. “Cause I know where one is.” 

Somewhere amongst the chaos, Mike, Anna, Yvonne and Heyward show up, looking unsurprised and amused when JJ and Kie wave from the kitchen and refuse any offers of help. Once the turkey’s in the oven they start on the dessert. “Wait, JJ, wipe the counter down. JJ, no.” 

She grabs his arm as he’s about to place a clean cutting board over a dirty counter. “What did he do?” Sarah asks. 

Kie sighs, exasperated. “He just tried to put a new cutting board over the dirty counter.” She turns her attention back to JJ. “That’s not a solution to your problems.” 

“I definitely disagree,” JJ says, grinning. 

Kie bites her lip against her grin, makes a show of wiping the counter down and then placing the new board down. “Do you see how I cleaned first? Like it’s possible to not navigate the kitchen like a tornado.” 

“Took you like five years, though.” JJ says, unrepentant. 

“Okay, get out of my kitchen.” Kie says. 

JJ does evacuate for a moment, gets the parents some drinks and freshens Sarah’s wine. John B grins in surprise when JJ brings him, Pope and Cleo a new beer. “Such service. I’m touched, man.” 

“I just don’t want you and your long ass hair in the kitchen. We’ll be picking it out of the mashed potatoes.” 

John B gapes in offence but Kie laughs from the kitchen. JJ clasps his hands together as he takes in the group, feeling way more at home around the crowd than he used to. “Sorry, everybody. If it were up to me, we’d be eating by now. But alas, my sous chef doesn’t agree with my methods.”

Kie scoffs. “Turning the oven up to 500 degrees to cook the turkey is not an option, Jage.”

“It’s faster, ” JJ argues. “We’d already be eating if we did that.” 

Kie rolls her eyes. “Yeah, and how many times have we gone to the hospital because you’re so fast?” 

“Couple times,” JJ shrugs. 

“How many times have things caught on fire?” 

He gasps, offended. “Never!”

Kie looks up from where she’s peeling apples for the crisp, mouth agape and eyebrows raised. Their company all work to stifle their laughter at the pair. 

“Once,” JJ concedes, looking back at the group. “Like twice, maybe.” 

“Just get over here and start slicing these apples.” Kie says.  

Soon they’re making the topping for the crisp and the Pogues are far too enraptured in watching JJ and Kie to focus on anything on the TV. When they look up at them, they both have their hands in the mixing bowl, fighting for control. 

“Kie, I really think for this, bigger hands are better.” JJ says, jerking his face away as her bun keeps brushing it, tickling his jaw. 

“Yeah, but careful hands are what’s gonna stop a big mess.” Kie counters. 

JJ rolls his eyes. “It’s fine, we can do this, it’ll all be great if you just give me full control.” 

Kie full on laughs. “No, I want full control.” She shakes her head, looking up at Sarah. “I give him a few lessons and now he thinks he’s Gordon Ramsey. Ba-Jage, no, get out. ” But the words have no bite, laughter laced within every syllable. 

Sarah blinks rapidly, looking at everyone in the living room, lowering her voice as she looks at John B. “God, they’re more married than we are.”

“Yeah,” Pope says, shock evident in his voice. “Now, guys be honest, how long have they been in love and I just haven’t noticed?” 

Cleo laughs. “Long time. ‘Least since I met you guys.” 

“Before then.” Sarah nods. 

Mike and Anna laugh in unison while Yvonne looks at the kids fondly. Heyward shakes his head solemnly. “Dumbasses.” 

“Wait, really?” John B asks, looking at Sarah confused. 

“Yeah,” Sarah nods. “Definitely.” 

“So,” John B starts, “are they together?” 

Mike shrugs. “They said no.” 

“But they definitely are,” Anna says.

Pope nods, considering. “Good to know.” 

“I’m sorry, did I just miss this?” John B asks. 

Sarah grins, looking at him fondly. “It’s okay, babe. Can’t catch ‘em all.”

Pope considered this. “Yeah, but catching one would be a nice change of pace for our Jombee.” 

“Hey!” 

Later, once they’ve all finished eating and berating Pope for bringing up dead bodies while they’re trying to have dinner, they say goodbye to their parents, thanking them for coming and sending them home with a ridiculous amount of leftovers. The Pogues all huddle together on the pull out, watching movies, drinking beer and laughing as if they’re still seventeen until newly adult eyes start to droop. 

After some debate, Kie and JJ take the pull out, insisting that it’s where they sleep most of the time anyway. Kiara avidly ignores Sarah’s pointed look at that particular comment. Before everyone goes to bed, once Kie has moved to start the dishes, Pope pulls JJ aside. 

“What’s up Pope?” JJ jokes. “Another super secret treasure hunt? Is some dead guy the descendent of another fortune?” 

Pope rolls his eyes. “No JJ. I just wanted to tell you it’s okay.” 

JJ’s brow wrinkles in confusion. “What?” 

“Whatever’s going on between you and Kie.” Pope explains, making JJ’s eyes go a little wide. “I don’t know if you’re hesitating because you guys are both just blind or if it’s because Kie and I sorta had something like four years ago.” He pauses. “Which would be ridiculous by the way, but I wouldn’t put it past you. So I wanted you to know it’s okay.” 

“Uh-” JJ sputters, before coughing a bit to regain composure. “I appreciate it, Pope. But uh, there’s nothin’ going on. I mean, nothing’s happened.” 

JJ claps him on the back and grins in an attempt to be casual, but Pope doesn’t buy it. “Whatever man. Just, do what makes you happy.” 

With that he walks off, leaving JJ in a whirlwind behind him. 

When the door clicks shut, JJ walks on autopilot to the kitchen and begins drying the dishes Kie’s already finished. “I think we did good,” Kie says. “Even Cleo seemed to like it.” 

“Really wish she didn’t eat half the meal with a knife.” JJ says. “She will never not scare me, but don’t tell JB I said that.”

Kie laughs and JJ wants to bottle the sound. “So, once we’re done I’m thinking we can finish that docuseries on the ocean?” 

“Oh good,” JJ agrees. “That’ll put me right to sleep.” 

She bumps their shoulders together, laughing. “Idiot.” 

He grins, flicking some water at her. “Fine, but tomorrow night you have to watch C.H.U.D with me.” 

Kie hands the last plate to him to dry. “No way! I’ve watched that with you a thousand times.” 

“And I know a thousand nature facts now.” JJ says, as he dries it. “All those damn documentaries are the same. We’re watching C.H.U.D. ”

“Fine,” Kie sighs as they turn and walk towards the pull out. “But you owe me.” 

They flop down together, shoulder to shoulder against the back of the couch, legs intertwined in front of them. Kie flicks the documentary on and settles in, curling into his sweater. He watches her for a moment in the darkness, biting his lip before he decides to take a leap. He reaches to fiddle with the string of his sweater. “Thief.” He jokes. 

Kie laughs, looking over at him. “I’ve had this for ages.” 

“And more, I bet.” JJ agrees, “thief.”

She rolls her eyes, turning back to the screen, showing no signs that she wants him out of her space. He looks at where her hands are resting in her lap, his own inches above as he holds the tie. Pope’s words run through his head and he lets them run rampant as he considers the fact that he really can’t remember the last time he slept without Kie next to him. He just knows he wants it to continue. 

More than that, he wants to know it means something to her. 

Because to him, it’s everything. 

He purses his lips, taking a deep breath, too focused on his thoughts to hear Kie’s breathing speed up. “Kie?” 

He drops his hand to cover hers as she looks up at him, confusion in her eyes morphing to concern as she takes in his expression. “Yeah?” 

“Pope, uh, he said something to me just now.”

Kie raises her eyebrows, waiting for him to continue, but she turns one of her hands over fingers brushing his wrist as they’re palm to palm, thumb brushing against his. His heart stutters in his chest. “He uh, he thinks there’s something going on between us.” 

He holds his breath as he waits for her response, her expression softening instantly. “Was he upset?”

And fuck, that wasn’t the denial he was expecting.  

JJ shakes his head, laughing a little. “No, he uh, was basically giving us the green light, actually.”

Her hand tightens under his, she’s so close. Had she leaned closer? He barely hears her light laughter. “Well, that was nice of him.” 

“‘Pparently he thinks we might’ve been holding back because of him,” JJ says, words falling from his mouth quickly. “But I told him there was nothing goin’ on-”

She freezes a little at that. “Jage,” she tugs a little on his hand until he meets her eyes. 

He does and instantly panics. “I mean, there’s no way-” 

Kie surges forward, eyes determined as her lips meet his. JJ’s hands shake as he tries to decipher whether or not this is real. 

She pulls away, looking a little dejected at his lack of response, and it springs him into action. His free hand surges to her curls, pulling her back to him. He kisses her softly, afraid to shatter the moment, but she rises to turn into him, pressing her free hand to his cheek. Her other leaves his to rest on his chest. 

He tugs a little at her curls in an effort to get closer causing the tiniest whimper to come from the back of her throat. 

“Shit,” he mumbles against her lips, and does it again, deciding he wants to hear that sound over and over again. Kie, ever assertive, huffs a sigh of impatience at his delicacy and throws her leg over his, moving to straddle him, one hand still on his chest, the other moving to his hair, nails scratching softly. 

He thinks he might be dead. 

He’s died and gone to an alternate universe where Kiara Carrera does things like straddle and kiss the life out of him. 

At the thought, he pulls back, just a little, smirking when she chases his lips. 

He looks up at her, dark eyes wide and wild, lips kiss bitten and he loves her. 

“Is this,” he whispers, clearing his throat a little when he hears how wrecked he sounds. “Is this a stupid idea?” Despite his words, his free hand runs up her side, sneaking underneath her-his-sweater to feel the soft skin there, swearing when she inches closer at the action. 

Kie grins, moving to kiss him quickly through her smile, kisses his cheek, then his nose, then his other cheek. He closes his eyes, letting his head loll as he basks in the affection. It’s almost too much to bear. A great shuddering breath leaves him when she places a kiss at his jaw, just near his ear. 

“Stupid things have good outcomes all the time.” 

***

Eventually, Sarah and John B do want the Chateau back. “But guys please, take your time. You don’t have to leave right away. We could be roomies!” 

But after enduring the couple being disgustingly cute for about a week-combined with Kie almost murdering John B after catching him using the microplane as a back scratcher-they get their own place to prevent any bloodshed. 

Everyone helps them move, JJ thinks he sees Anna begrudgingly pass Mike a $20 but he can’t actually be sure, too focused on dragging the little bits of furniture they’d bought into their new living room. 

Once they get everything in and everyone clears out JJ and Kie look at each other, unable to hold back echoing laughter as they look around their new house. 

The kitchen is bigger than the one at the Chateau, at JJ’s request. Kie had put up a bit of a fight but JJ promised it wouldn’t be huge, just something with enough counter space that they don’t have to improvise when they’re trying to cook together. 

Their compromise had been that she’d accept more counter space as long as the house also had a pantry. They’d managed to find a pretty big one, nooked in the corner of their new kitchen. 

JJ watches, a bemused smile on his face as Kie finishes with unpacking everything that needed to be frozen and refrigerated and moves excitedly to the pantry, “I think it’s bigger than it was when we first saw it,” echoes back to where he stands in the living room. 

He takes a breath, leaning against their front door as he takes it all in. They’d managed to find something open, with as many windows as possible so they could see the marsh in the backyard as they cooked. The kitchen stretched into the living room, divided only by a small island, where a lone, pale yellow couch currently sat across from their television, sitting on the floor. The only two pieces of furniture they’d brought aside from their bed. 

He grins into the empty room before hooking up their speaker, selecting a playlist and beginning to unpack some of the kitchen supplies. They’d formed a huge collection, borderline obnoxious, JJ realises as he unpacks their standing mixer, arranging the larger equipment on the counter. 

A grinning Kiara exits the pantry, rushing straight into his arms for a kiss before she turns and settles against his chest. His arms come around her waist naturally, swaying them gently as the pair takes in their kitchen. 

Kie hums absentmindedly. “I think we should paint the cabinets yellow.”

“Sure,” JJ nods against her shoulder. “I’ll see if I can swipe some tomorrow.” 

She grins. “The pale yellow, like the couch. And we’ll leave the walls white for now.” 

“Yes ma’am,” he murmurs. 

“Hey,” Kie says, turning in his arms. “Did we ever buy that food processor?” 

JJ shakes his head. “No, definitely not.” 

Her face drops, displeased. “Why not?” 

“Well, because this isn’t the Food Network, Kie,” JJ grins. “This is real life.” 

She pinches his bicep. “We’re getting one tomorrow.”

“Whatever you say, dear.” He jokes. “But keep the violence to a minimum, we’re aiming for domestic bliss here.”

Kie laughs. “We’re not married, Jage. But I guess there is a legal contract between us now.” 

“Unwise to get into with a Maybank, but don’t say I didn’t warn ya,” JJ says. 

Another kiss. “I’ll take my chances, Carrera’s con with the best of them.” 

“I remember,” he nods. 

She grins, before wriggling out of his arms, laughing at his protests. “Where are you going?” He whines. 

“I’m unpacking so we can make our first dinner in our new kitchen.” She says, pulling select items out of the boxes littering the floor. 

“Kie, it’s almost midnight, and nothing’s unpacked.” He can’t believe he’s the one reasoning.

“Fine, we’ll make shrimp and grits tomorrow then,” Kie concedes. 

“Well now,” JJ says. “We don’t need to be hasty .” 

She grins, handing him a cutting board. “Then let’s get to it. But please, promise not to be a tornado in this kitchen.” 

“I promise I won’t be a tornado in this kitchen.” JJ says. “Tonight.” 

“JJ, no.”

They fall into a new rhythm quickly, Kie feeling no lack of closeness with this bigger kitchen. Sleep deprivation and adrenaline from the change make them laugh hysterically as they attempt to cook, JJ burns himself twice, discontent when Kie only says “I told you so” through giggles. 

After sufficient whining, she manages to find some neosporin and bandaids, only slightly condescending as she kisses his fingers after she’s wrapped them. 

Once they’re finished, they curl together on the couch, not bothering with the TV as they sit and eat their 2am dinner. They start on the dishes once they're done, JJ barely able to finish them before he’s pulling Kie to him, swaying them in a clumsy dance, not at all matching the rhythm of the song playing in the background. 

His hand presses at the small of her back, sliding underneath her shirt before pressing Kie flush into him, grinning when Kie’s nails bite into his shoulders lightly. “Y’know,” he says against her ear. “I’ve got a room in the back.” 

Kie pulls back a touch to raise her eyebrows at him. “Huh. Lookin’ to get lucky, Jage?” 

“Well, I’ve had a few wins so far,” JJ shrugs. “Figure I’ll keep pushin’ my luck.”

He feels her grin against him as she places a kiss on his jaw. “I was actually thinking we’d christen the kitchen first.” 

“I love you,” rushes out amongst her giggles as he hoists her up on the counter. 

And somewhere amongst the boxes, JJ knows there’s an engagement ring, sitting hidden in one of his toolboxes, waiting for the right moment. 

The next day, Kie swipes yellow paint across his face in retaliation after continual snipes about the new food processor. And he doesn’t mean to, really, but the sun is coming through the windows and she’s laughing as he swipes his face across her nose until she’s also splotched with yellow. She’s thrown her head back, laughing in the kitchen-their kitchen, shit. 

And the words, marry me just fall out of his mouth. 

She freezes and shit he doesn’t even have the ring unpacked yet. He instantly rushes to the boxes, opening them frantically, muttering an “ah ha!” when he finally finds the small velvet box, approaching her cautiously. 

Wait, is he supposed to be down on one knee? He is, isn’t he?

“Kie,” he starts, beginning to drop down. 

“Yes,” she whispers, reaching to yank him to her before he can make it to the ground. 

He feels high. “Yes?” 

She nods, grinning wildly as JJ opens the box, sliding the ring on her finger, kissing her as he does. 

Kie grips him tightly after she does, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. He doesn’t think she’s even glanced at the ring. 

“Okay,” she laughs, pulling back and kissing him once more. “C’mon, help me finish this, I want it done so it’s dry by tonight.” 

“The engagement celebration of a lifetime.” JJ says, “painting and unpacking.” 

“You’re the one who said this is real life, Maybank.” 

“Hey, that’s soon to be Carrera, to you.” But he picks up a paintbrush, doing nothing to hide his grin. 

And if they have to spend about half an hour later trying to get dried paint off the ring, they keep it to themselves. 

***

Years and years later, JJ walks through the door of their home after a day of work to hear giggling accompanied by My Girl coming from the kitchen. 

“Now, what’s goin’ on in here?” He asks as he sees Kie stirring a pot as their daughter sits on the counter next to her, curls swept up into a bun and blue eyes shining. 

“Papa!” Mira yells in excitement, nearly knocking the spice bowls off the counter.
Kie chuckles, catching the bowl before it falls and walking to meet her husband, hand on his chest.

“Happy birthday, Mr. Carrera.” She says against his lips, grinning. 

He kisses her once more. “Why thank you. But I thought you already wished me that this morning.” He smirks down at her, tugging at her waist as her laughter seeps into his lips. 

“Maybe, if you’re lucky, I will again tonight.” She whispers, kissing him once more. 

Before he can respond, their daughter is waving a hand. “Ew! Stop being gross! Mommy!”

Kie laughs, spinning around, but JJ doesn’t let her get far, wrapping his arms around her waist forcing her into an awkward waddle back to the stove. He leans around Kie to kiss his daughter’s cheek. “Hi Mira.” 

She grins, appeased instantly. “Happy birthday, Daddy.” 

“Thanks baby,” he says, kissing Kie’s temple before resting his chin on her shoulder. 

Kie chuckles a little, trying to manoeuvre while he’s got her trapped. “Y’know, I have been slaving over this birthday dinner and you’re making it very difficult.” 

“What else am I here for?” JJ asks. 

“Daddy, guess what?” Mira interrupts, not to be outdone.

He grins, “what?” 

“Mama said I get to add to the recipe today!” 

“Woah!” JJ feigns surprise, turning to look at Kie. “You think she’s ready?” 

Kie nods. “Absolutely, she’s already picked her spices.”

“Well, I’ve had it a thousand times.” Mira says, fiddling with a salt shaker. 

“Really?” Kie says, “a thousand ?”

JJ grins into his wife's shoulder, pressing a kiss there as their daughter nods vigorously. “A thousand and one today.” 

 “What’re you gonna add?” JJ asks. 

Mira and Kie shake their heads in unison. “Not telling Papa. You and Mommy have to guess.” 

“Yeah, she decided that shortly after we started cooking.” Kie says, sounding entirely too amused. “Like father, like daughter.” 

“Alright, Mira,” Kie grins after finishing with the spices. “Show us what you got.” 

JJ lets go of Kie only to go get a palette cleanse for Mira, grinning wildly as she tastes the gumbo then drinks. “Leave.” She orders her parents, all too seriously. 

“Nope,” JJ says. “Little girls don’t hang out alone in the kitchen.” 

Mira huffs. “I’m not little! I’m seven and a half!” 

“Yeah, Jage,” Kie mocks. “Have some respect.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry. You want to leave the hurricane alone in the kitchen?” JJ counters. 

Before she can respond, Mira is sighing heavily. “Fine! Don’t leave. But at least close your eyes!” 

“Hm,” Kie leans back into JJ. “I’d like to hear a please, wouldn’t you like to hear a please, JJ?” 

“Absolutely,” he nods. 

Mira sighs, but does look a little chastised. “Please, close your eyes.” 

They both do so, hands interlocked, mouths twitching with amusement. “No peeking!” Mira demands. 

They listen to her fuss, and stir, JJ only opening his eyes slightly to make sure she doesn’t burn herself but being careful not to glance at the spices. 

JJ chuckles, focusing his eyes on his wife. “What stage of being married is getting scolded by your kid?” 

Kie turns to look at him, not opening her eyes until her head is completely turned. She raises an eyebrow. “We’re married?” She says, laughter marring the seriousness of her tone. “I thought we were just friends.”

JJ’s not nearly as amused, fingers digging at her waist. “Is that what you thought?” 

She attempts to wriggle away, but JJ keeps her there. “Yes, let me go, help. Mira!” 

“I’m trying to focus, Mommy.” Mira says, not looking up from the pot. 

JJ laughs, “she's trying to focus, Kie.”

She turns in his arms to glare at him. “I take back everything I said, unhappy birthday.” 

“Aw, I’m so touched.” He leans forward to kiss her, swerving at the last second so their lips never meet.

“Hey!” Kie complains. 

JJ shrugs. “You’re the one who said we’re just friends.”

She laughs, hands on his shoulders. “You’re like, my best guy friend, Jage.” 

“Okay, it’s not a joke anymore. No-”

“Okay!” Mira interrupts. “Come taste.” 

Kie looks at JJ. “This isn’t over.” 

“Domestic bliss,” JJ says through laughter, leaning forward to kiss Kie. 

“If you don’t stop being gross then no gumbo!”

Both parents break out of their reverie, trying their best to hide their laughter at the seriousness on their daughters face. They move to take a sip of water before tasting the gumbo, Mira’s watchful eyes drinking in every expression. 

“So?” 

Kie and JJ look at each other, pretending to consider. Abruptly, JJ surges forward scooping his daughter up and pulling her close. “This kid’s gonna win us cooking contests, Kie.” 

Mira glows under the praise. “What do you think Mommy?” 

“I think it’s even better than it ever was,” Kie says, smiling wide and leaning to kiss Mira’s cheek. “Good job, baby.” 

JJ pulls his girls in, grinning wildly and placing a kiss on both of their temples, “okay, Mira, set the table please.” 

He lifts her down before opening the oven as she runs off, reaching to grab the pan of biscuits, Kie slapping his hand abruptly. 

“Hey!” He says, looking up at her. 

She glares down at him. “Are you seriously about to grab that hot pan without any oven mitts?” 

He purses his lips, looks at his hand inches from the pan before turning back to his wife. “No.” 

“No?” 

“Nope,” he says. “That would be insane.” 

“Yes,” Kie agrees. “It would be.”

At her unamused look, he straightens up and leans over for a kiss which she swiftly dodges. “No, I don’t want a kiss. I want you to put some damn oven mitts on.” 

JJ stands mouth agape, before turning to retrieve the oven mitts. “Rejected,” he mutters. 

When Kie laughs he knows she does her best to stifle it. “Happy birthday,” she teases. “My gift is you not burning your entire hand.” 

“I had something else in mind for a gift,” he says, lowering his voice after he places the pan down on the stove top. 

“Quit being a tornado, and maybe you’ll get dessert.” 

He smiles before following Kie to join their daughter at the kitchen table. 

Unbeknownst to JJ, there’s a freshly baked cake sitting in the fridge. And on his thirtieth birthday, there’s no one there to prevent him from enjoying it as the sun goes down, laughing as his daughter decides to smash some into his face. 

JJ leans forward, rubbing the remaining frosting onto Mira as payback to Kie’s protests. “JJ, it’s in her hair, oh my god-” but she’s laughing too hard to continue. 

When Mira manages to sneak some more frosting and wipe it all over Kie’s face, her laughter halts, if only from shock, before quickly starting up again. 

“I’m-” Kie stutters. “Look what your daughter did.”

“Why is it whenever she does something chaotic she suddenly becomes my daughter?” JJ asks, frosting still on his cheek. 

“Do you really need her to answer that, Daddy?” Mira pipes up, causing Kie to throw her head back and laugh. 

“Wow,” JJ says. “Betrayed by my wife and child. You know the punishment for betrayal Mira?”

Mira squeals and Kie follows as they both try to run away, but he’s quick to grab them, effectively ruining his birthday cake to smush some into both their faces.

On his 30th birthday, JJ laughs and spins his daughter and wife around their living room without a care in the world. Their lives aren’t perfect, but after they put their daughter to bed they curl up, together, in the bed they bought, together, and Kie kisses him goodnight.

And he knows she’ll be there in the morning. 

And to JJ, that’s pretty damn close to perfect.