#ghostofjen

Jen was late, stressed and late to be exact. Getting intothe city and then across it to Brooklyn had been a bitch although she supposed she shouldn’t have really expected anything less on New Year’s Eve. She was feeling slightly frazzled by the time her cab deposited her in front of the modest apartment building by the river and when her very-pregnant friend, Natalie, had opened the door to let her in, she’d taken one look at Jen’s face and steered her straight into the kitchen to fix her a drink. The apartment was crowded with faces that Jen both knew or thought she did, mutual friends of hers and Nat’s or acquaintances of Nat’s musician husband, Devon. When a guy the size of a mid-size SUV with multiple piercings and a tattoo of a moose on his bicep wearing a t-shirt that proclaimed ‘Fear the Mosquito’ passed her on his way to the refrigerator, she had self-consciously smoothed the fabric of her simple-yet-stylish little black cocktail dress and wondered if she wasn’t a little over-dressed. When Natalie had invited her, she’d made it sound a little more dinner party-ish and a little less kegger at the Frat House, not that Jen had a problem with either scenario, she just would have liked to have dressed appropriately if the night was going to end with her playing strip beer pong like it had the last time she’d been invited over.

“So, Norman’s coming,” Natalie had told her with a sly grin, peering over the top of her enormous non-alcoholic fruit drink, a stick of leafy celery and a gaudy paper umbrella hiding half her face.

“Oh,” she’d replied, knowing exactly where Natalie was leading with this turn in the conversation.

“Uh-huh and I told him you’d be here too.”

“Nat, you have got to stop with this matchmaking shit. Last month you tried to set me up with Devon’s bass player, the month before that it was your mailman! Now it’s Norman Reedus, what kind of crack are you on, girl?”

“Pftt, those others were just wrong, I see that now. I blame the pregnancy hormones.”

“You’re still pregnant!”

“But Norman is different. I just know that you two will hit it off, you’re like peas in a pod… well if the pod was kinda odd shaped and the peas had completely different interests but enough in common to still be perfect for each other.”

“What could you possibly think that he and I would have in common, Nat? I swear to God, if I didn’t love you like a sister and you weren’t carrying my little God-spawn in there, I’d have had you committed by now. I’m a thirty-something, 9-5 office worker who likes to cook and laze around in my garden. You’re more likely to catch me reading a book on a Saturday night than hanging out on the red carpet, snorting cocaine or whatever it is that celebrities do these days.”

“Actually I’m trying to cut back on the cocaine, it gives me hives.”

Jen had frozen to the spot as the familiar voice had come from behind her, ears buzzing from the blood suddenly doing a tango through her veins, her eyes glued to Natalie’s grinning face in front of her and she’d momentarily wondered if punching a pregnant woman in the face would be morally wrong given the situation. Slowly, oh so slowly, she had turned around, hoping that she had just had an auditory hallucination and dying a little inside when she realized that she hadn’t and Norman was really standing behind her alongside a sniggering Devon who wasn’t even trying to hide his amusement.

“I- uh, I’m… that is I didn’t mean to imply… I would never think that you… I mean, I don’t know you but you don’t seem like the type of person who… not that I know anything about uh… oh fuck,” she had trailed off, noticing that even Lucifer must have been enjoying her embarrassment as he didn’t open up an express elevator to hell and save her from her torment no matter how hard she was mentally screaming for him to do it.

“Don’t worry about it,” Norman had said, giving her a quick smile before turning his attention to Natalie. “How’s my favorite pregnant lady?”

“Fat.”

“Well you look gorgeous, babe.”

“I look fat.”

“But it suits you,” he’d replied, stepping behind Devon as Natalie’s dripping celery stick had spun through the air in his direction.

As he had stepped back out to pull Natalie’s grumbling form into a warm embrace, whispering something in her ear that Jen couldn’t catch but that had made her friend smile like the sun, Jen had taken the opportunity to give him the once over. Of course she was familiar with who he was, had been watching him on her tv and seeing him in magazines for the past couple of years, so she’d been prepared for his good looks and strange sense of humor but what she hadn’t been in the least bit prepared for was the way his clear blue eyes pinned her in place when he’d glanced away from Natalie in her direction. She also hadn’t been expecting him to be such an understated presence in the room, his posture telling her he was relaxed and at ease with his surroundings with none of the look-at-me bearing she had seen in other people in the public eye she had encountered before. If anything, he looked more at home among Devon’s friends, in his worn jeans and a simple black button-down shirt, than she’d felt since she’d walked in.

She’d stood on the edge of their conversation, quietly downing her drink, as he’d talked to Nat and Devon about their upcoming foray into parenthood, surprised a little by the sound advice he was giving to her friends in his soft voice. She knew of his reputation as a hard and fast bachelor with a string of beautiful models under his belt, including the mother of his teenage son, and she had been expecting to meet a somewhat arrogant man with a high opinion of himself despite Nat’s promises that nothing could be further from the truth. When a large crash had sounded from the other side of the apartment claiming Devon and Nat’s attention, Jen had found herself standing awkwardly alone with Norman, still embarrassed and having no idea what to say to him.

“I’m guessing you’re Jen,” he’d said, leaning forward a little to be heard over the sudden increase in volume of the music coming from the living room. “Our hostess ran off before she introduced us. I’m Norman.”

He had totally disarmed her when he suddenly took her hand in both of his and raised it to his lips, brushing a light kiss across the back, his whiskers tickling her skin and making her smile as she felt a warm blush light her cheeks.

“I know who you are, silly, I watch your show,” she’d replied then wished she hadn’t, hating the way it had sounded falling from her lips.

“Oh, so you’re a fan,” he’d asked and she’d seen something guarded slip across his expression.

“Well, I’m not sure I’d call myself a fan as such but I do enjoy what you do, the show is really good.”

“Thanks, it’s always nice to hear that.”

“And I have to give all of you guys props for working in Georgia all summer, I think I’d die!”

“It’s a challenge to say the least,” he’d said with a wry smile.

“Isn’t that where you met Devon? Doing one of his gigs down there somewhere in the middle of nowhere.”

“Yeah, he was playing at one of the bars in the town we stay in, completely blew me away.”

“I thought that was what Nat had said. You really shouldn’t encourage him, you know, it gives him ideas above his station and with Nat being about 19 months pregnant right now, there’s nobody to keep him in line.”

“Oh, I’m sure you do a good job of putting him in his place,” he’d laughed and Jen had felt a lurch in her stomach at the way his eyes had crinkled but she told herself it was just gas and that she wasn’t going to be charmed into falling for a man she was never going to have.

“Can I get you another drink?” he’d asked, taking her empty glass from her hand without waiting for an answer and she’d felt another one of those little lurches as his fingers had skimmed over hers.

“Sure,” she’d squeaked and then coughed to clear her throat. “That would be great, thanks.”

He’d turned to the kitchen counter, vying for position among the small knot of Devon’s friends who had been systematically working their way through every bottle laid out there, answering greetings and back slaps from them as they realized who he was. Jen had peeked her head out of the kitchen, looking for Nat to come rescue her before she had to think up a whole new round of small talk but her friend just waved exuberantly at her from the other side of the room before turning her back on her and waddling away like a satanic penguin. Norman had nudged her arm, handing her a glass and then steered her out of the kitchen into a quieter part of the living room where they’d taken a seat on the sofa and she’d perched on the edge, feeling completely self-conscious, trying not to gulp down her drink in one go. For his part, Norman had pulled out his phone, poking at it intently for a minute or two until she was wondering if he’d forgotten she was there and she could slip away without him noticing. She had been just about to throw herself over the back of the sofa and crawl away when he’d suddenly thrust his phone under her nose and she’d jumped a little as her eyes tried to focus on the screen in front of her.

“Is that Devon?” she’d hissed, whipping her head around to make sure he was nowhere in the vicinity. “What the fuck is he doing, excuse my language?”

“The Macarena,” Norman had snorted. “I thought you might appreciate these.”

“There’s more?” Jen had shrieked, shuffling closer to him on the sofa, her awkwardness evaporating with each flick of his thumb across the screen, revealing image after image of her best friend’s metal-head husband making an absolute fool of himself on a crowded dancefloor. “I need all of them. Name your price!”

“I’m sure we can work something out,” he told her, giving her a wink as he’d plucked his phone back from her eager fingers and slipped it back into his pocket and the fluttering in her stomach had edged up a notch at the implication behind his words.

For the rest of the night, he barely left her side although he socialized freely with anyone that approached, greeting each new face with a genuine warmth and enthusiasm that Jen was starting to find completely endearing. When it was just them, they’d talked of his work, Norman reducing her to tears of laughter with his stories from his days on set, the animated way his hands accentuated his words showing her just how passionate he was about what he did and her respect for him notched up a little bit more. He had asked her about her life, her work and her interests and she was impressed to see that he was actually listening to her responses and throwing her back appropriate questions. By the time midnight had rolled around and Devon had called everyone up to the roof to watch the fireworks over the water, Jen was totally won over by Norman, feeling a little guilty that she could have ever believed that this articulate, funny, down to earth man was just another two-bit celebrity with an over-inflated sense of his own worth.

As the raucous countdown to the New Year had begun, Norman had taken her hand, leading her to a quiet corner of the rooftop away from the prying eyes and the noise of their friends. With the stroke of midnight, he had taken her face in his hands and kissed her with a tenderness that took her breath away, her fingers clenching tightly into the front of his shirt to keep herself grounded. When they had parted, he had grinned shyly down at her then turned her in his arms to wrap them around her waist as they watched the fireworks exploding over the river, his chin resting comfortably on her shoulder. With the display over, they had wandered back inside to get warmed up from the winter air, Norman rubbing at her arms even though she was pretty sure her internal thermostat was set to explode with the taste of his lips still imprinted on hers. As people gradually left, they had sat together, talking quietly with a small group of people until Jen began to feel her eyes drooping and Norman had insisted it was time for him to leave. Jen had escorted him down the stairs, ostensibly to make sure he got into his cab okay but in reality because she wasn’t ready to let him go quite yet.

“Happy New Year, Jen,” he’d whispered into her ear, brushing aside her hair to kiss her cheek and sending a shiver through her body before turning to get into the cab, leaving her standing on the curb, convinced that the glow she could feel over her entire body could probably be seen from space.

She’d endured the ‘I told you so’ catcalls from Natalie as she’d re-entered the apartment, choosing to ignore her friend in favor of closing their guestroom door and throwing herself fully-clothed onto the bed to pass out, her mind swirling from the alcohol and the remembered scent of Norman’s skin as he’d leaned in to kiss her goodnight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An angry buzzing from her phone had awakened her the next day, her face crusted to a pillow smeared with her own make-up, her brain having no idea why there was a row of purple elephants staring at her from the end of the bed until she remembered she was in Nat and Devon’s soon-to-be nursery and the bright light of day was streaming through the open curtains. With a grunt, she’d attempted to locate her phone, trying to get some moisture back into her mouth without much success. When she’d finally found her purse which she had been laying on all night, the phone had stopped its insistent demands although there was still a distinct buzzing in her ears that she thought might have more to do with the vast amount of alcohol she’d consumed the night before rather than anything else. The lock screen on her phone had told her she’d missed three calls already that morning and her less-than-sparkling brain was just trying to figure out who was trying to torture her so early on New Year’s Day when the phone had rung again. Not recognizing the number, Jen had answered it fully intending to give the caller a piece of her mind when the familiar voice on the other end brought her vitriol to a screeching halt.

“Good Morning, Sunshine.”

She’d had to swallow thickly two or three times before she could get any kind of answer out.

“When did I give you my number?” she’d asked him, her voice gruff and confused.

“About five minutes after you asked me if I wanted it but then made me swear not to booty-call you in the middle of the night or you’d kick my ass no matter how big my biceps were,” Norman had answered with a throaty chuckle that did all kinds of things to her insides even as she was clapping a palm over her eyes in embarrassment.

“You’re not a very nice man,” she’d admonished him, furtively wondering what else she might have said to him while she was under the influence. “You couldn’t have just kept that to yourself?”

“Now where would the fun in that be, sweetheart?”

“What do you even want, calling me at the crack of dawn. What kind of a sadist are you, anyway?’

“You know its 2:00pm already, right?”

“Liar!” she’d exclaimed, tilting her head to look at the Winnie the Pooh clock on the bedside table, trying to figure out exactly where Tigger’s tail was pointing and feeling a little disgruntled to see that he was right.

“I wondered if you wanted to go get something to eat? With me, that is.”

Jen had held her breath, waiting for the catch.

“Jen, you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here. I… uh, yeah, that would be cool,” she’d answered in a rush, her already dry mouth turning into the Sahara at the thought.

“Good, I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

Without waiting for her response, he’d hung up, leaving her sitting up in the bed looking down at the wrinkled mess of her cocktail dress and swearing she could hear Lucifer giggling somewhere below her feet.

Luckily she’d been crashing so often at Nat’s place during her pregnancy that she had a change of clothes hidden away in the dresser and after she’d taken a scorching shower to try and revive herself a little and drunk an over-sized mug of Devon’s signature rocket-fuel coffee, she’d felt like she might just be able to face having Norman see her in the cold light of day. Fortunately Nat was still resting so she hadn’t had to endure that particular torment and was able to slip out of the apartment unnoticed when Norman had buzzed her phone.

She had no idea how she’d done it but somehow she’d made it through that meal with him and somewhere between nervously looking over the menu and fighting about who was going to pay the bill, they’d ended up as friends. After that, they were pretty much inseparable for the next few months, just hanging out when Norman was at home and not swamped with all the trappings of his job. He’d taken her to places in the city she’d never been before, introduced her to a fascinating array of people he called his friends and, in return, she’d invited him out to her home in the suburbs. It had been a big deal for her to take him there and she let him know it, this was her sanctuary, the one place she could truly feel safe and call her own and he was the first man she had ever invited inside that haven. Pretty soon he was spending more of his free time there with her than he was at his own place, claiming it calmed him, helped him focus his mind in the same way that being in Georgia did even though he thrived on the bustle of the city. Through it all they kept their relationship platonic, the kiss at New Year’s having been the only real one they’d ever shared apart from ‘Hellos and Goodbyes’ and Jen was strangely comfortable with that.

The turning point had come at the beginning of April, the pair of them huddled together one Saturday night on her back porch, sipping wine and discussing their week. She’d known something was bugging him from the moment he’d arrived and he was making her jittery just from being close to him, so much so that when he’d turned to her and suddenly declared his love for her with no warning or preamble, she’d lost her grip on her wine glass and it had tumbled from her fingers, spilling its contents on the blanket before crashing to the floor to shatter against the wooden boards. With a curse, she’d thrown the wet blanket onto him and crouched to pick up the broken glass fragments, momentarily forgetting the words he’d said to cause the mess until she’d looked up and caught him smiling widely at her. The cleanup was instantly forgotten as he’d stood up and pulled her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace and kissing her until she could still see the stars even with her eyes closed.

It was she who’d made the first move when the kiss was over, taking his hand and leading him up to her room, quieting his “Are you sure?” with another kiss to his lips and slowly undressing him. She wanted to say that their first time was perfect and to her it was but it was still a mixture of those awkward moments new lovers share as they find their rhythm together coupled with the passion that had been simmering below the surface for the past few months. When she had woken the next morning to find him sitting pensively on the edge of the bed, lost in thought, she’d slid her arms around his neck and down over his chest, pressing herself against the width of his back and asking him softly what was going on in his head. He’d confessed to her that he wasn’t sure he knew how to be in a relationship and that he needed her to know that he might be a difficult man to love so he wouldn’t blame her if she wanted out before they even began. But she’d just squeezed him tighter, laying hot kisses along the back of his neck and down his shoulder, knowing that it was useless – she’d already given him her heart and she didn’t want it back.

So now here they were, five months later and she had to be truthful and say that their relationship wasn’t without its trials and tribulations but for the most part it had been more than she’d dare hope for, even with Norman being away for most of the time while he was filming in Georgia. She’d managed to be able to spend a week with him down there, meeting his whole other ‘family’, something she had been overwhelmed by in theory but had delighted in once it was happening. Most weekends, he would be able to get back to the city, foregoing his own apartment to come directly to her, filling her house and her bed with his relentless energy until her head would spin and she would find herself bereft of his presence each Monday morning just counting down the days until she would see him again. Natalie had given birth to a beautiful baby girl and Jen found herself visiting the happy family most evenings after work, distracting herself from the empty home she had waiting for her. With filming at an end for the year, Norman had come home to her, integrating his way into her life so easily that she found it hard to imagine a time when he hadn’t been there. Before she knew it, the New Year had come and gone, the pair of them having a much more subdued affair at Nat and Devon’s than the previous year, their friends passing on their usual party now that they were responsible parents.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It doesn’t matter,” Jen mumbles over the rim of her coffee cup, studiously keeping her attention on the magazine open on her lap and not looking at Norman.

“It does matter,” he tells her, flopping down onto the sofa beside her and grabbing at the magazine to toss it over his shoulder. “Just tell me, please, c’mon Jenny, tell Norman, pleaaaase.”

“Call me Jenny again and we’re through,” she growls at him, carefully sitting down her mug and getting up to retrieve her magazine.

“You know I can just ask Nat, right?” he tells her with a sly grin as she takes a seat in the armchair opposite him.

“Pfft, she won’t tell you anything, not if she wants Auntie Jen to babysit this Saturday night,” Jen scoffs, flipping through the glossy pages of her magazine.

“Jesus fucking Christ, woman, why is it such a big deal?” Norman huffs dramatically, sliding off the sofa to shuffle across the gap between them on his knees. “I get it, you’re worried I’m going to leave you for a younger woman and that’s a very real concern but, for the love of all that is holy, just tell me when your birthday is. You don’t even have to tell me the year, just the date. If you want to keep pretending that you’re 25, all the better for me but just tell me!”

With his last plea, Norman grabs at the magazine again, throwing it aside as he pulls Jen’s protesting body from the chair and tips her onto the rug. She wriggles in a vain attempt to get away but she knows that he's too strong for her by a long shot and he quickly straddles her, resting his weight on her thighs while his hands grapple hers to the floor above her head.

“Get your bony ass offa me,” she tells him in an icy voice but she's already struggling to contain her laughter.

“Sure,” he agrees amiably, “as soon as you tell me what I want to know. We’ve known each other for a whole year now and you didn’t have a birthday anywhere in that time, not that I knew about anyway and I am not missing it this year. I told you when mine was.”

“Well, that wasn’t exactly too hard to figure out with all the ‘Happy Birthday to me’ countdown messages you kept sending me!”

“So, tell me.”

“Why? So you can do something completely embarrassing and send me another stripper-gram like the one you gave me for Halloween? Who even does that anyway?” Jen asks, bucking up a little under him and being rewarded with Norman wobbling a little above her.

“Hey, most women would be grateful that their men are open-minded enough to do something like that for them,” Norman tells her in a voice dripping with fake hurt.

“Not when their man sends them to their office in the middle of the work day during a very important meeting that their girlfriend has been talking about for days.”

“Okay, okay, I admit I might have screwed up on the timing just a little there and I said I was sorry but I made it up to you, didn’t I?”

“You sent him back the next day!” Jen yells, struggling against the firm grip Norman has around her wrists. “I almost had a heart attack.”

“Ah… but you didn’t,” says Norman as if that makes everything okay. “Anyway, I promise you I won’t do anything to embarrass you. I just want to do something nice for you, I swear.”

“Nope.”

“Don’t make me get rough with you, lady, because you know I will.”

“Yeah right. You’re about as rough as a Care Bear. Hit me with your best shot, old man.”

“Oh, that’s it… you’re asking for it now, missy.”

With an evil grin, Norman leans forward over Jen until their faces are just inches apart and she can see the flecks of silver in his blue eyes as he stares into hers. He holds himself there, his breathing coming into rhythm with the rise and fall of her own chest where it’s flush with his and she licks her suddenly dry lips as he shifts his weight slightly on her hips. The dark length of his hair is surrounding his face like a curtain and the soft strands tickle her cheek as he dips his head down, his breath hot against the skin of her neck for a moment before she feels the brush of his lips against her flesh. She arches her head away from him exposing more of her throat for him to kiss, thinking for a second that her afternoon has definitely taken a turn for the better, before Norman giggles maniacally and thrusts his lips harder against her skin, blowing the mother of all raspberries. Jen shrieks under him, squirming harder to get away as he proceeds to tickle her with the rough hair of his goatee, pursing his lips against her skin in an endless line of increasingly wet, silly noises. His hands keep hers firmly above her head as he snuffles and snorts his way down her cleavage, motor-boating her boobs with a wild abandonment that has her wheezing and breathless with laughter.

“Ve haf vays of making you talk,” he tells her, coming up for air and looking her directly in the eyes.

“You’re gonna need a new way to clean the rug if you don’t stop,” she retorts, finally catching her breath. “I’m about to pee myself.”

With a sigh, Norman drops his forehead to Jen’s chest, resting his face between her ample breasts where he mumbles something she can’t understand, his voice completely muffled in her flesh.

“What?”

“I said, ‘fine, you win’. Don’t have a birthday. If you don’t care then why should I?” he says, lifting his head despondently.

“Thank you, that’s all I’ve been trying to say. It’s not about age or feeling old, I’ve just never liked to celebrate my birthday. Some people don’t, you know. Doesn’t make them freaks.”

“Yeah, it does,” he tells her quietly, “but you’re my freak and I love you.”

Dipping his head forward, this time Norman captures her lips in a real kiss, the prickle of his beard stimulating this time instead of irritating. Jen kisses him back, parting her lips to him at his gentle insistence and sighing through her nose as his tongue slides thickly against hers. His body molds to hers as he changes position until he's resting between her thighs and she can feel the beginnings of his erection through the loose material of his pajama pants. She bends her knees up either side of him and, finally, he loosens his grip on her hands and she brings them down to push the hair back from his face as he places tiny kisses along the underside of her jaw and down to the hollow of her throat. Raising himself up on one elbow, he brings his other hand between them to slide up under her t-shirt and softly caress her breast, just barely teasing her nipple with his thumb. Jen sighs again, almost a moan this time, as the sensation travels from his fingertips directly to her pussy. Scraping his teeth against her clavicle, Norman’s fingers pinch slightly harder around the raised nub of her nipple and Jen’s body rolls up under his as he grinds his hips down into her. With her fingers still twisted deep in his hair, she draws his face back to hers, wanting to kiss him, eager to have him kiss her. He teases her lips, licking and sucking, until she can feel herself growing wetter between her thighs and she wants him to fuck her right there on the floor.

“Norman,” she exhales, closing her eyes as his lips suck lightly at the flesh of her throat and she shivers under his touch.

She's so wrapped up in the sensations he's awakening in her body that it takes her a few seconds to realize he's stopped moving. Uneasily, Jen cracks open first one eye and then the other as she finds Norman staring down at her with a devilish smirk on his face.

“What?” she asks, already knowing the answer.

“It’s such a simple thing, darlin’,” he tells her, running his fingertip lightly over the flesh of her breasts above the edge of her scooped neckline.

“I hate you.”

“I know you do, baby,” he chuckles, following the trail of his finger with the tip of his tongue, eliciting an unearthly moan from Jen.

Curling his bottom lip between his teeth, he pulls aside the neck of her t-shirt and hooks his fingers into the cup of her bra to slip it from her breast. She feels the heat of his breath playing across her exposed skin before he takes her nipple between his lips and rolls his tongue over it. Jen’s body jerks at the touch and she curses as she feels his teeth graze her sensitive nub. With a final suck he pulls off, grinning as he looks expectantly at her, making no move to continue what he’s started. Jen’s pussy is throbbing where it’s pressed against the stiffness of his cock and, while she knows he'd be frustrated if they stopped at this point, she has a feeling she’d feel far worse.

“January 31st,” she hisses at him through gritted teeth and his face lights up before he drops his lips back to her trembling skin and rolls her nipple with his tongue. “But, if I see one cop in spandex pants telling me he needs to take down my particulars, I’m coming after you, Reedus, I swear to God.”

Norman’s only response is a throaty chuckle as he slides down her body, laying kisses in his wake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To Jen’s surprise, Norman makes no more mention of her birthday after that afternoon and, while she doesn’t think he's forgotten about it for an instant, she’s quite happy that he's let the subject drop. She does breathe a sigh of relief that her birthday falls on a Saturday though this year, feeling safe in the knowledge that any embarrassing situations that might occur will be kept well away from her work environment. However, when the morning of her birthday dawns and she doesn’t even receive so much as a ‘Happy Birthday’ text from Norman, Jen can’t help but feel a little disappointed. Telling herself she's being stupid and she shouldn’t expect anything after the way she’d made it quite clear that she didn’t want any fuss, she pushes the feeling aside and gets on with her day. Norman has work commitments in the city all day so Jen spends her time doing the mundane things she always seems to put off when he’s around like doing her laundry and balancing her checkbook. Natalie calls her at lunchtime and they spend a couple of hours on the phone debating the pros and cons of being involved with men that other women would probably kill to be with even though they have no clue about the high level of maintenance that comes attached to that type of man. With her chores and socializing done for the day, Jen curls up on the sofa with a beer, flicking idly though the tv and wondering how a man that may one day need to have his phone surgically removed from his fingers, can’t find the time to let his girlfriend know what time he’s coming over. Somewhere around the middle of the third straight episode of a Sons of Anarchy marathon, she passes out and doesn’t know anything else until a warm hand is placed gently on her shoulder and she’s firmly shaken awake.

“You’re so pretty when you drool,” smiles Norman from where he's sitting perched on the edge of the sofa beside her.

“Fuck you,” Jen slurs, her voice full of sleep but she quickly checks her chin with her fingertips finding nothing but dry skin and pushing Norman back a little as she sits up. “Nice of you to show up. Phone broke?”

“Aw, I’m sorry, babe. I came as soon as I could,” he says, his face falling and Jen’s heart does a little jitter in her chest.

“Better late than never,” she smiles at him, sliding her hands behind his neck to pull him to her so that she can kiss his sweet lips.

“I have a gift for you,” he tells her when they part, his blue eyes twinkling as he brushes her hair behind her ear.

“You’re my gift,” she answers, stroking his cheek with her fingers, hoping that he knows how much she means it.

He leans in to kiss her again, deeper this time, his tongue gently probing hers as he slowly explores her mouth before ending with a series of small kisses to her lips and then leaning back to look at her.

“I’m hungry,” he grins with a wink and Jen can’t help but smile back at him. “Gift first and then I’m taking you out for dinner.”

“Norman, it’s,” Jen glances at the time on her phone as he gets up and heads into the hallway, pulling open the door to the closet there, “11:30, where do you want to go eat at this time?”

“I know a place,” he replies, his muffled voice coming from inside her closet as he rummages around for a moment before emerging with a large flat box, tied with an elaborate ribbon.

“You hid my gift in my closet?” Jen asks in surprise as he walks back to the sofa and places the box on her lap.

“Well, it’s not like you go in there for anything, I knew it would be safe.”

“I keep the vacuum in there!”

“Exactly,” he smirks, dodging the light punch she throws at his shoulder.

Jen tugs on the silky bow that’s wrapped around the box, pulling it free to lift the lid and reveal layers of brightly colored tissue paper inside. A soft hint of patchouli tickles her nostrils, bringing with it memories of warm summer nights drinking at bars no self-respecting woman should be caught dead in, listening to the thump of metal from some wannabe band and having the time of her life. At least it used to be until now, she thinks, as she glances up into Norman’s face before she peels back the tissue paper and her fingers slide over the surface of a vintage leather jacket. She pulls it out, the discarded box falling to the floor as she lays it across her lap and strokes the butter-soft surface, her fingers ghosting over the scuffs and scrapes that years of love and wear have marked it with. Of all the expensive gifts he could have bought to give her, the fact that this is what he chose tells her he knows her better than she could ever have dared hope and for all the joking comments he makes about trading her in for a newer model she knows that he really does love her.

“So, do you like it?” he asks, nibbling apprehensively on the tip of his thumb in the way that’s guaranteed to have her heart melting in an instant.

She answers him by swinging the jacket around to slip her arms into the sleeves and pull it on, sighing a little as the leather creaks before molding to her shape in a perfect fit. Knowing she’s grinning like a crazy woman and feeling tears rimming her eyes, Jen throws her arms around his neck and squeezes him as tight as she can, rocking him from side to side in her excitement.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he chuckles, bouncing up and down with her on the sofa like an overgrown child. “Now, go get dressed in something warm and let’s get going.”

“Warm?” Jen asks, letting him go and realizing for the first time that he’s clad in his own leather jacket and his bike gloves and helmet are on the coffee table beside her. “You came on the bike?”

“Sure did, lover. Now scoot, while the night is still young.”

Jen gets up, shrugging out of her new jacket and laying it carefully down on the sofa, before she races up the stairs to pull on her jeans and a thick sweater, filled with the giddy excitement that always comes from taking a ride on Norman’s bike. At this time of year, he usually has his baby tucked away in storage somewhere, not wanting to expose it to the harshness of an East Coast winter but, luckily for Jen, this year has been unusually mild so far with barely more than a smattering of snow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours later and Jen is clinging lightly to Norman’s hips as he steers the bike along the mostly deserted highways, the night air sneaking into the gaps of her clothing just a little to give her a chill. The comfortable weight of a good meal rests in her belly, Norman having taken her to an out-of-the-way diner where he was greeted like an old friend and they were treated like royalty right down to the over-sized cupcake their waitress had brought out with a single candle lit in its center. Now they were speeding along to a mystery destination he had yet to reveal to her but she didn’t care where they were going. All that mattered was the fact that they were going together, the feel of his body firm between her thighs and the rumble of the bike beneath her vibrating her to her core. There was something she found inherently sexy about being on the bike, she always had done which was probably the reason she’d gravitated towards biker types so often in her youth. Now that she was a little older and definitely a lot choosier about who she let into her heart and her bed she had found that her old desires were not buried that deep the first time she had seen Norman riding his bike. Sure, she was more than familiar with Daryl Dixon tearing around the zombie apocalypse like a badass road warrior but there was something about seeing Norman in his worn jeans and his leather jacket, sitting astride his Triumph, that just pushed all her buttons. Luckily they had already been dating the first time he'd taken her for a ride because, by the time he'd pulled over at some filthy rest stop, she’d been practically moaning with lust on the seat behind him and had proceeded to drag him into the ladies bathroom to fuck him hard against the chipped sinks, not caring if anyone could hear them or not.

Now, she could feel the familiar ache between her thighs, her senses heightened with her arousal, and she prays that their destination isn’t too much further. She’s given up trying to keep track of road signs from behind Norman’s head, choosing instead to let herself be surprised when they get where they’re going but she’d have to be blind not to notice that they’re headed out to the coast. They pull out onto a short causeway and at the far end she gets her answer as Norman slows the bike to steer around a large concrete water tower and she catches sight of the signs welcoming them to Fire Island. It’s somewhere they’d talked about coming all through the summer but it had just never seemed to happen. Her interest is piqued as they drive slowly along the two-lane blacktop, passing the parking areas which she knows would be completely packed if it weren’t almost 2:00am in the dead of winter and an abundance of signs warning them not to feed the deer native to the island. Ahead of them is the dark shadow of a lighthouse in the near distance, its rotating light pouring over them in regular intervals. Norman follows the road as it curves past the last public lot, steering deftly around the barrier designed to keep unauthorized vehicles from proceeding any further and taking them almost to the base of the lighthouse before he pulls off the road into the darkened sand dunes and kills the engine.

Jen dismounts from the bike and pulls off her helmet, the sea-breeze rushing in to ruffle through her long hair, taking a deep lungful of the salt-laced air.

“Are we supposed to be here?” she whispers to Norman as he gets off the bike and hooks his own helmet on the handlebar.

“What do you think?” he whispers back, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes as the beam from the lighthouse sweeps over their location. “Come on.”

He takes Jen’s hand and pulls her behind him up the side of the steep dune in front of them, cresting the top and then plunging down the other side in a half-run. Laughing, he tows her onto the sandy path leading down to the beach and she matches his pace as they sprint toward the ocean’s edge. The wind coming off the sea is stronger on the open beach and Jen catches her breath as the sight of the dark ocean comes into view, its white-flecked waves crashing onto the shoreline in front of them. Norman stops short a few feet from the water, pulling her in to wrap his arms around her waist and nuzzle into the side of her neck as she takes in the view. She watches the swell of the ocean, mesmerized by the incessant noise it makes as it rolls onto the sand and she feels suddenly incredibly small and yet wildly empowered at the same time.

“Happy Birthday, baby,” Norman says, his breath hot against her ear as he raises his voice a little to be heard above the waves.

“This is crazy,” she answers him, turning in his arms to face him. “I can’t believe you thought to come out here!”

“Well, I wanted my girl to have a night to remember. Who needs dinner and a movie when you can have the entire ocean to yourself.”

“It’s amazing. You’re amazing,” she gushes, barely able to express how she’s feeling.

“No, I really think that’s you,” Norman says softly and he tilts his head to bring his lips to hers, hovering just above them for a second before kissing her.

His lips are rough from the wind but Jen doesn’t care as he slides his tongue hotly into her mouth and massages it against hers, making her hands grip tightly at the sides of his jacket.

“Mmm,” she groans as he pulls his head back, wanting more from him, her arousal flaring in her again.

He turns her in his arms, facing her out to watch the rhythmic ebb and flow of the ocean, resting his chin against her shoulder.

“So, tell me something, honestly,” he asks her a few minutes later, his goatee tickling the shell of her ear. “Would you ever trade me in for somebody a little less… work, someone a little more stable?”

Jen tenses a little in his arms, hearing the serious undercurrent to his words. Although it’s become something of a running joke between them that he would leave her for the next young floozy to look his way and she would swap him in a heartbeat for a man with a regular work schedule and a closet full of three-piece suits, they’ve never made more of it than that and Norman has surprised her by even asking.

“Well,” she says, after a suitably long pause, drawing the word out before continuing, “I did have a very interesting conversation with Brad in accounting this week regarding the new filters he'd just bought for his European coffee maker at home and I kinda got the impression that if I wanted to go over some time and see them for myself, he’d be more than willing to give me a demonstration, if you get my meaning. But, as tempting as it is to have a man whose goal in life is perfectly filtered Euro coffee, I think I’d rather stick to the guy who wakes me up at 4:00am to tell me he’s just discovered a new cereal combo I just have to try, or who can’t go to bed at night without kissing his cat even if it takes an hour to find Satan Claws, or who gives me a trip to the ocean in the middle of a winter night to celebrate my birthday.”

Norman peppers her cheek with sloppy kisses, pushing against her as he leans back to lift her feet from the sand in a huge hug.

“So, what about me?” Jen asks a little breathlessly as he puts her back down.

“Oh, you’re still outta here as soon as Taylor Swift comes to her senses and calls me!”

“Eww,” Jen yells, wriggling out of his embrace with a jab to his ribs and taking off back up the beach to where the bike is parked. “See ya! Enjoy your walk home.”

Norman catches up to her just as she’s lifting her helmet from the bike’s seat and spins her around to grin down at her.

“Now why would I want to trade the most beautiful woman in the world for anyone else, huh? Who else would put up with me waking her up at 4:00am to eat cereal or help me find my damn cat even when she’s tired and has to be at work on the other side of the city at stupid o’clock the next morning? Who else would put up with me being gone for half the year without a single complaint and then still understand that I need to spend time with my friends when I do come home?”

“A saint, that’s who,” Jen grumbles at him but snuggles closer into his body at the same time.

“The woman I love, that’s who. The woman I’d be crazy to let go. The woman who stays with me for reasons I can’t even fathom.”

“She does put up with an awful lot of bullshit from you,” says Jen, grinning at him.

“Yes, she does and, if she ever wanted out, I’d understand.”

“Oh, I think I can quite categorically state that that’s never gonna happen because, Mr. Reedus, the benefits far outweigh the disadvantages.”

With another grin, Jen leans forward to kiss him, tasting the salt on his lips and moaning a little as his hands slide up to bury in her hair. It’s a gentle kiss, no tongue, just their lips pressed lightly together in a promise of things to come. Feeling suddenly inspired, Jen parts her lips from his and steps away from him, reaching for the zipper on her new jacket.

“Let’s get naked,” she informs him, watching his eyes widen as he follows the downward trajectory of her fingers. “Right here, right now. You and me on the bike. Let’s do it.”

“Are you insane?” Norman asks her, laughing out loud but she sees the way his eyes flick from her to the bike and then back again. “It must be 20° out here.”

“Then you’ll just have to find a way to keep me warm,” she teases, shrugging out of her jacket and reaching for the bottom of her sweater, “or can’t your old man body handle a little thrill?”

“Pfft,” scoffs Norman, joining her in her striptease until they’re both standing naked in the breeze. “Holy fuck, Jen.”

“It’s stimulating,” she laughs, feeling the breeze ripple over her warm skin but still grateful that the high-sided dunes around them are acting as a natural windbreak.

“You’re stimulating,” Norman tells her, stepping closer to her and she’s delighted to see that the cool air isn’t having any effect on his arousal, her pussy aching as she admires the length of his hard cock.

Molding herself to his body, she runs her hands up his sides, tickling small circles across his ribs and teasing his hardened nipples as he dips his head to kiss her. His hands come around behind her, brushing down her spine and over the swell of her ass, his fingers tightening in her flesh as he squeezes her cheeks. Pushing her hips into his to grind against his erection, she sucks at his lower lip, nipping it with her teeth before releasing it.

“Bike ride got you a little worked up again, huh?” Norman asks in between the hot kisses he’s trailing along her jawline, one hand coming around to tease at her mound.

“Like you didn’t plan it this way,” Jen replies, gasping a little as his rough fingers push down to part her lips and he rubs his middle finger against her clit.

“Well, I kinda thought you’d be able to last until we got home, my little nympho, but I’m certainly not complaining.”

“Nympho?” smiles Jen, raising an eyebrow at him as she forces herself to step back from the incredible sensations he's pulling from her clit. “Well that’s your own fault for being so fucking sexy all the damn time. Makes it very hard for a girl to keep her hands off you.”

Norman shrugs in a ‘what can I do, I’m a stud, it’s not my fault’ kind of way and Jen laughs lightly, turning her attention to the bike parked beside them. Throwing a wink at Norman, she lifts her leg to straddle the seat, grabbing the bikes handles as she rubs herself against the cool leather beneath her. She arches her back to him, knowing he has the perfect view of her ass and the wide spread of her slick pussy from where he’s standing as the lighthouse’s beam illuminates their hiding spot every few seconds. Turning the bike’s engine on to idle with a rumbling purr, she moans loudly as the vibrations make their way through the machine and caress her clit where it’s pressed hard against the seat. She hears Norman grunt loudly behind her and turns to look over her shoulder at where he’s standing, one fist stroking lazily at his cock while he watches her intently.

“Are you going to stand there playing with yourself all night or are you going to fuck me?” she asks dryly.

He responds by throwing his leg over the seat behind her and pressing his chest flush against her back, his hands snaking around her front to capture her breasts and roll his palms over them. His lips find their way to the skin of her shoulder, laying wet kisses on her cool skin, trailing them down her spine as he lets go of her breasts and sits up behind her. Bringing his hands to a starting position on her hips, he pushes them up her back, bending her lower against the bike’s surface until her breasts are pressed against the cold metal. Reaching back down to grab her hips again, he jerks her body back, raising her up high enough until she can feel the tip of his cock pushing against her entrance. Planting her feet firmly in the sand, Jen rolls back against him, impaling herself on his length, giving out a small scream as he fills her. Keeping one hand dug into her hip, his other one reaches up to wrap around the back of her neck as he leverages his feet between hers and pulls back a little before thrusting into her. The bike rocks a little as he finds his footing and the suspension bounces slightly with his increasing movements as he pounds into her from behind. Jen keeps her grip tight on the handles, rocking her hips back as best she can to meet every punishing thrust he’s giving her pussy but she’s pretty much already lost any coherent thought. All that exists for her is the feel of his cock buried inside her, deliciously spreading her slick walls with his girth, his head scraping her g-spot with every move. The vibrations from the bike are driving her wild and her clit is throbbing as Norman presses down on her back, a series of unintelligible grunts and groans pouring from his lips. It’s hard and rough and wild and Jen is in heaven as he fucks her like a man possessed.

“Don’t stop,” she screams as he shifts slightly behind her and slides in even deeper. “Normaaan… make me fucking come.”

She clenches tight around him, feeling his fingers bury their way into her hair to pull her head back as he rams into her over and over. It’s too much for her to handle, her pussy aching around him, and she comes hard, gasping for air as her body tightens momentarily and then lets go, her orgasm taking over.

“Jen!” she hears him bark loudly and then feels him rutting against her, his hips grinding on hers as he comes inside her, his body weighing heavily on top of her.

She loosens her death grip from the bike’s handles, switching the engine off and reaching her hand up and back to dig her fingers into Norman’s hair as he clings to her, the sweat cooling on their bodies. Slowly, he raises himself off her back, pulling her up into a sitting position and she twists her torso so that she can see his face. He grins at her, meeting her lips with a soft kiss, his hands sliding gently over her skin. She kisses him back, her body still flushed with the aftershocks of her orgasm, until the night air finally pulls a shiver from her.

“Time to go,” Norman whispers, nuzzling her neck with his lips and giving her an entirely different type of shiver.

“Do we have to?” she asks, leaning back into his touch.

“We do unless you want hypothermia as another birthday gift,” he tells her, helping her off the bike and then getting off after her.

“Fine, if you want to be Mr. Sensible about it,” Jen smiles, retrieving her scattered clothing and shaking the sand from each piece before putting it back on.

“Although, you know,” he says, pulling her to him once they’re dressed and zipping up her jacket, “we do have a whole ride home for you to get warmed up again.”

He winks suggestively at her, sliding his fingers down to skim over the front of her jeans, making her sensitive pussy twitch in response as she grins back at him. Loving the soft creak of her new leather jacket as she reaches up to wrap her arms around his neck for another kiss, Jen thinks that maybe celebrating her birthday isn’t such a bad thing after all.  

It was a beautiful day, with a blue sky, a light breeze and birds singing. The kind of day she had cherished. The kind of day that had made you forget, for just a little while, what had happened. What they had lost. What the world had come to. The kind of day that had you rejoice in the fact that you were alive and breathing.

Every trill of the birds, every chirping of the crickets hidden away in the grass, even the humming of the multitude of insects waking up for the day seemed to be driving him to his knees.

Because she wasn’t there any longer to appreciate this beautiful day.

Because she was dead.

And they hadn’t even found her body to bury.

At long last he reached the empty grave with the cross at its head and sank down to one knee, his crossbow on his back.

His body seemed unwilling at this point to allow air to pass into his lungs. Heaving in one painful breath, he reached into his shirt with one hand and withdrew it again slowly, bringing out a single white flower, five delicate petals arranged around a sun yellow center.

He lowered his head, closing his eyes, as his thumb caressed the flower in his hand ever so gently.

Now that she was gone forever, he wished desperately that he had done this more often while she had still been there to enjoy this tiny bit of appreciation. Wished that he had shown her every day how much she meant to him. How much he cherished her. How precious she was to him, how important her life and well-being.

He wished that he hadn’t been a dick and been open to her about how he felt.

As with so many other things before and after the Turn, he had failed her, allowing her to believe for even a single moment that he took her for granted. That he wasn’t aware every second of every day of what a monumental change she had brought about in his life. That he owed who and what he had become to her, and her alone, because she had been the first person ever to believe in him.

He was about to look for her body one last time - or her walker.

And before maybe being faced with either of these - her dead body, with too much of it gone, or damaged too badly to turn, or else a dead-eyed walker wearing her beautiful face - he needed to pay tribute to and remember her as she had been while alive:

The way she had taken care of everyone, taking upon herself so many of the „menial“ tasks that you only noticed when they weren’t being attended to; making sure everybody had what they needed; saving a kind word for everyone who came to her. Her smile. Her laugh. The way her blue eyes shone when she looked at him.

How would he ever go on without her there to pick him up when he faltered?

How would they all?

He placed the flower on her empty grave, in the center of the ring of small pebbles he had prepared for just that purpose, silently promising her that he would always remember her the way she had been in life, that he would not allow whatever he was about to find in the Tombs now to tarnish his memory of her, and then caressed the cross, resting his hand on it for a moment as he attempted to compose himself. He sat motionless, bowed down by the weight of his grief.