seven (adam banks)

epilogue

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epilogue: 2010

a/n:

I sincerely apologize to the teddybear I threw across the room over this chapter /hj

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Somewhere in Boston, in an apartment in a nice brownstone, a couple lay in bed together. The faint morning sunlight is coming through the windows and a cat can be heard mewling somewhere in the house as the alarm clock starts to blare. She wakes up before him, stretching languidly as she leans across him to read what time it is.

In blinking red, the clock shows six o'clock.

Sighing shortly through her nose, she presses the button on the machine to make it stop making noise and starts to wipe the sleep from her eyes.

"Adam." She says softly. "Adam, babe, wake up."

Jamie, now pushing thirty, peppers kisses all over her boyfriend's face. He wakes slowly, blinking a few times and staring up at her sleepily.

"What time is it?" He groans, his morning voice all crackly.

"Six."

"Oh, Christ." Adam rubs a hand down his face. "Can't I just sleep for more minutes, babe?"

"No. We have to go back home, remember?"

Her pointer finger traces lazy, comforting circles on his bare chest as the other hand props her head up. She knows he's been dreading this trip ever since they made the plans weeks ago.

"Oh, god, do we really have to?"

"Mhm."

Sighing, he looks up at the ceiling before glancing back at her tiredly.

"Leave it up to my old man to sell the house at the worst possible time, huh?"

The corners of Jamie's lips twitch up. "Yeah... but hey, look at it this way, you haven't seen him since you were eighteen, and as soon as we get your shit, you never have to see him again."

"You're right."

"Always am."

She leans down to kiss him on the chest before she gets up out of bed. He watches her lovingly as she walks to the bathroom wearing a tank top and a pair of his boxers. Taking much more time than she did, he also gets up, stretching with a yawn and scratching at his clavicle as he follows her.

The cat mewling gets a little louder.

"You gonna feed your cat or should I?" Jamie hums around her toothbrush.

Adam snorts, moving her hair to one side and pressing a kiss to the space between her shoulder blades as she bends slightly over the sink to spit the toothpaste foam.

"He's not my cat. He's our cat."

"You were the one who brought him home."

He slides the shower door open and turns on the water.

(It isn't an exaggeration. Jamie came home from her job one day to Adam standing in the doorway, holding a little black kitten out to her and saying "surprise!")

"You say that like you don't love him."

"I do love him. Just not when he's screaming at six in the morning."