#poh

Joe immediately wanted to argue with Poppy, but you quickly informed both of them that you had already thought of that. You’d booked dinner reservations for Joe and a few of his friends that would be in town for fashion week as well. You were surprised he didn’t hurt his neck with how fast he whipped his head around to look at you with wide eyes. 

You rolled your eyes at his shock, waving a hand dismissively as Poppy joked about you finding a hot French man to go on a date with instead of waiting around for Joe in your hotel room. She even offered to call in a friend who was single and always down for a good time.

Joe disconnected the call before she could finish her sentence, looking at you with a tight smile and shrugging like it was an accident when you both knew it was on purpose.

After your talk with Poppy, you went home to your tiny, shoebox apartment. You were looking forward to some much needed time away from everyone after staying in Joe’s apartment. You needed time to clear your head away from Joe and his new obsession with making you blush.

Joe had always been charming, but he was taking harmless flirting to a whole new level.

You couldn’t count how many times in the last two days you’d caught him staring at you when he thought you weren’t looking. It was enough to make you question if Joe was serious about his flirty remarks or if he was just doing it as a distraction to make you feel better like you originally thought. 

Now that you were on a plane with him, crammed into economy for an eleven hour flight to Paris, you were starting to reconsider if you actually had a crush on Joe.

After seeing that you booked his ticket in first class and yours in economy, he insisted that the flight attendant switch his seat so that you could sit together. She looked at him like he’d grown a tail when he asked with full confidence to be put in economy instead of first class. You tried to explain that he was in first class for his own comfort, but he didn’t seem to want to listen to reason anymore. 

When you asked the person who was meant to sit next to you if they wanted to move to first class, they got up so fast you thought they would burn a hole in the seat. Joe sat down with a huge grin and his tote bag in his lap, happy as a clam to be sitting next to you. 

Now that you were about an hour into the flight, he didn’t seem so happy. 

He shifted in his seat, letting out another frustrated huff as you stared down at your book. He was acting like a restless toddler, shifting around and groaning to get your attention. You refused to acknowledge him. If he wanted to be next to you, he would have to suffer sitting in a cramped seat in economy. 

“I don’t know why you booked yourself in economy.” He hissed out, pushing his bag to the side with his foot. “You always book us together in first class when we travel alone.” 

“I thought some separation might do us some good.” You mumbled, eyes glued to the pages of your book. “You could have stayed in first class.” 

“And sit without you?” He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Who would I annoy when I get bored?” 

The person in front of him chose that moment to lower their seat, the tray hitting Joe’s knees with a thunk. You snorted out a laugh, lifting your hand to cover your mouth as he glared at you from his seat. 

“Who puts their seat back before the lights go out?” He said through gritted teeth, turning his burning gaze forward as if he could burn a hole through their head. “It’s terrible plane etiquette.” 

“Just close your eyes and get some rest.” You knew that if you looked away from your book, it would only encourage him to complain more. “It’ll pass the time.”

Carefully, you glanced over to see him still glaring at you with the sassiest expression, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. You raise your brow at him and he let out another sigh before bending at the waist to rummage in his bag.

You turned your attention back to your book, actually reading now that Joe was preoccupied with untangling a pair of headphones in his lap.

Your focus didn’t last long as you noticed from the corner of your eye that Joe was only making the knot worse.

“I buy cord organizers so you don’t have to deal with that, you know?” You handed your book to Joe, swapping for his headphones. “And why aren’t you using your over ear ones?”

“I left them at home.” He cleared his throat a few times, pressing his fingers to the base of his neck dramatically. “Can I have some of your water? My throat is feeling a little dry.

“Ew, I don’t know where your mouth has been.” You pulled your reusable water bottle away, tucking it against your side. “I have an extra I bought at the airport in my bag.” 

“If anyone knows where my mouth has been, it’s you.” He leaned over, any concept of personal space gone, his forehead pressed against your outer thigh as he rummaged through your bag. “And it’s technically my water since I bought it.” 

“Joe.” You hissed out his name, exhaling through your nose in frustration. “You’re being a pest.” 

“It’s because my knees are in my spleen.” 

“Do you even know where your spleen is?” You snap, eyes focused on the chord as he mocked your words in a high pitched voice. 

The back of his head bumped against your elbow, so you lifted your arms to give him more room as he rooted around between your legs.

Eyes rolling up to the ceiling, you tried to remain calm and remind yourself that he was only grumpy because he was tired and that snapping at him would only make it much worse. You still had nine hours left on this journey, and you didn’t want to spend it fighting with him. 

He let out a huff, reaching up to press his palm on the inner part of your thigh to balance himself. Your breath hitched in your throat, that familiar pull in your lower abdomen taking you by surprise.

The warmth of his hand on your thigh mixed with the bobbing of his head between your legs was doing something for you, and humiliation washed over you in a flash of heat. You could only imagine what you looked like, staring down at your boss with labored breathing and parted lips like he was water in the desert. 

Have some self control.

Just when you thought it couldn’t get worse for you, he pressed his fingers into the fleshiest part of your thigh. As someone who carried their weight in their lower half, you’d never had a boyfriend put their hand on your thigh and make you feel good about it. Their hands were always too small, and seeing them resting on your upper thigh just made you feel uncomfortable.

Joe’s hand, however, was so large that it looked like it belonged on your thigh, taking up space like you were his to hold. You didn’t even hear him talking to you until he turned his head, glasses crooked on his face, eyebrows raised, and cheeks red from the blood rushing down. 

“Where is it?” He lifted a brow. “There’s so much stuff in here, Ace. You’re like Mary Poppins.” 

“Um, it’s in the- uh, the side pocket.” You stuttered out, lifting your hand brush over your mouth just to make sure you didn’t actually drool on yourself. “Do you just want me to get it, Joe?” 

“No, I’m okay down here.” His voice was muffled, and that definitely didn’t help the ache between your legs. 

The couple across from you was staring like you were some kind of exhibit at the zoo, there to entertain them with your weird mating rituals. You gave them a tight smile, nodding before you looked back down at your boss. It dawned on you that it was going to be impossible to convince people that you and Joe weren’t secretly a couple.

He pushed the heel of palm down, bringing you back to reality as he sat up with the water bottle in hand and a triumphant grin. 

“Got it.” He winked over at you as he twisted off the cap and lifted the bottle to his mouth. “Thanks, babe.”

In your mind, everything after that was in slow motion. 

His head tilted back as he brought the bottle up to his lips. 

You swallowed, throat suddenly dry as you watched his Adam's apple bob in his throat with each swallow. His jawline was dusted with a little stubble, and the little freckles and moles dotted over his tanned skin made you feel hungry for something other than a late night sweet treat. You bit your lower lip, trying to regain composure as he let out a satisfied sigh, twisting the water bottle cap back on. 

He glanced over at you and then looked down at the headphones in your hand with raised brows and a small smirk. You snapped out of whatever sexual daze he put you in, your shaking fingers working through the knots he created within seconds before handing the headphones back to him with a tight smile. 

“Are you okay?” Joe asked, taking the headphones with furrowed brows. “You look a little warm.” 

“I’m fine.” You were, choosing to ignore just how squeaky your voice sounded. “Can I have my book back now?” 

Joe shook his head with a mischievous grin. 

“No, I think you’re done reading.” He sucked in air through his teeth. “I’m bored.” 

“Joe-”

“I think we should talk.” He tried to angle his knees towards you, but there wasn’t much space. “It’s a really long flight, and I don’t want to listen to music the whole time.” 

“I don’t want to talk, I want to read.” It came out through gritted teeth, and you leaned over trying to snatch the book from his hand. “Joe, give me my book back.” 

“No.” He said, tucking the book under his right arm. 

“Fine.” You crossed your arms with a huff, looking straight ahead. “Keep the book.” 

“Okay, I will.” He snorted out a laugh. “So what do you want to talk about?” 

You ignored him, keeping your eyes straight ahead. 

“Are you giving me the silent treatment?” He asked between breathy laughs. “Oh, you’re gonna break so quick.” 

He pulled your book out from under his arm, eyes scanning the dog eared page you were reading earlier. You tried not to notice as his eyes grew wider, practically bugging out of his head as he glanced between you and the book. His mouth opened and closed a few times, cheeks still red as he tried to find the words stuck in his throat. 

“This is what you’re reading?” He whispered, holding the booking up. “This is porn.” 

“Joeseph.” You hissed his name, reaching over to snatch the book out of his hand. “It is not porn.” 

“‘His tongue parted her folds, drinking up the sweetness pouring from her like a waterfall. His words had done that to her, had made her so wet that there was no resistance when two of his fingers slid in deep.’ That is straight up porn.” Your face heated up as he repeated what he’d read. “Don’t be embarrassed, I think it’s cute that you like to read your porn instead of watching it like a normal person. Granted, that was way raunchier than any porn I’ve seen-” 

“Stop saying that I’m cute.” You growled out, snapping your book shut. “And quit saying the word porn in public, it’s inappropriate." 

“I think reading porn next to your boss is what’s inappropriate." He teased. “Do you read these kinds of things often? What’s your favorite genre? Is it enemies to lovers?” 

“I’m not answering you.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Listen to your music and be quiet.” 

“What’s the raunchiest book you’ve read?” He asked, brows wiggling. “Ever read any rockstar romances?” 

You were about to tell him off again, but just as you opened your mouth, someone walking down the plane aisle to the bathroom hit the back of his head with their purse causing him to jerk forward. Joe’s face shifted, and he narrowed his eyes at you like you had done it to him. You raised your brows, pressing your lips tight as he exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring. 

“You should have booked yourself in first class.” He grumbled. 

 “Assistants don’t normally fly in first class.” You shrugged. “You should have kept your ticket.”

“I hate this.” He dropped his head back to the headrest, closing his eyes. “My legs are too long to sit back here.” 

“Suck it up, buttercup.” You teased, reaching over to pat the back of his hand where it was gripping his knee. “Would you like to keep your first class ticket for the flight back home?” 

“Yes.” He rolled his head to the side, looking down at you through half closed lids as he flipped his hand over, threading your fingers together before you had the chance to pull away from him. “But only if you upgrade your seat. It’s that or you’ll have to deal with me bitching in economy the entire flight home.” 

His fingers squeezed yours, calloused thumb rubbing softly against your smooth skin as if it was grounding him. You stared down at your hands together, breath catching in your throat at just how natural it looked.

Your stomach tightened, butterflies swarming around like a hurricane at just how good it felt to be held, even if it was just your hand. You weren’t big on physical touch, and you couldn’t honestly recall a time where holding someone's hand made you feel comforted and not trapped.  

If you had any shred of professionalism left in your body, you’d pull your hand away from his and tell him off for his behavior. You’d tell him that the casual touching and the flirting wasn’t okay, and that it would only make things worse.

But it would be a lie.

Something in you wanted this new version of Joe.

But you still felt a little wary about the timing of it all.

Why now?

“Don’t make it weird.” He muttered, brushing his thumb over your knuckle in a sweeping motion. “Friends can hold hands.”

Friends, right.

Maybe you were reading too much into this. 

Maybe your own feelings towards him were making it seem like it was more than him being friendly with you.

“It’s just that I was going to keep reading.”  You muttered, looking down at the abandoned book in your lap with a frown. “Kind of need both of my hands for that.”

“Shh.” He whispered, voice deeper now that he was drifting off. “Sleep.”

“So much for creating distance.” You mumbled. 

“Distance is overrated.” He whispered. “Besides, you’d miss me too much.” 

You put your book into the small pouch in the seat in front of you before leaning back against your seat. You let your eyes close, deciding that you would try to get your hand back when Joe was fully asleep. It wouldn’t take more than ten minutes for him to be out like a light. He had the ability to fall asleep no matter where he was or what position he was in, and you envied him for it. 

There was no way you were going to actually sleep on the plane, you never did. 

But you could rest your eyes until he fell asleep at least. 

Joe let out a content hum, lifting your joined hands up to rest on his chest, just above his heart so you could feel it beating. He covered both of your hands with his right one, keeping you close. He shifted, and you felt the weight of his head on your shoulder.

If this was anyone else, you would have stiffened up, afraid to breathe too hard or to move a muscle for fear of waking them up. But this was Joe, and he slept like the dead. He let out a soft grumble, nuzzling into the crook of your neck like he’d done it a million times before.

 “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?” You smiled, resting your cheek on top of his head.“Goodnight, Joe.”

“Yeah, but you love it.” He slurred, voice thick with sleep. “G’night, Ace.” 

******

Joe’s voice echoed in your dream. 

There was a soft vibration under your cheek with each word that dream Joe spoke to you, and when he handed you a cup of coffee in his kitchen, you could have sworn that you actually smelled the notes of vanilla and coffee. Your nose twitched, and you turned your head against your pillow with a soft sigh.

There was a small twinge in your neck, the muscles of your shoulders drawn up and tight. You ignored it, opting to drift back off into dreamland where you were having an extensive conversation about whales with dream Joe. 

He had on that loose button up and baggy jeans he wore for a photoshoot once, the one in the field with the beautiful yellow flowers and setting sun.

You missed that version of his hair, the shaggy brown that was a little too long. Even though he never styled it, it always looked so damn good on him. In your dream, you reached out to run your fingers through the soft hairs at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you with a giggle. 

Soft laughter interrupted your dream, and you lifted a hand to cover the source. 

“Good morning to you too, Ace.” Joe’s muffled words were warm against your palm.

“Shh, I’m sleeping.” You mumbled into the pillow. “It’s quiet time.” 

“We’re gonna land soon, angel.” Joe said softly, his hand rubbing over the bare skin of your side, exposed after your hoodie had ridden up. “They’re bringing coffee around if you want some.” 

It was then you realized that you weren’t resting on a pillow. 

You had fallen asleep in Joe’s arms. 

Your eyes opened, and you lifted yourself up quickly before looking back at him.

“Easy there, tiger.” He chuckled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You alright?” 

“Did I fall asleep on you?” You asked, voice scratchy and crackling from the dry air of the cabin. “Fuck.” 

“Technically, I fell asleep on your shoulder, but it was hurting my neck so we shifted around a bit.” He reached for your reusable water bottle, passing it over. “Here. I promise I didn’t put my mouth on it.” 

“Thanks.” You flipped the top open taking a few sips as you tried to calm your heart rate down and focus your eyes. “Sorry about…that.” 

“Don’t apologize.” His hand slid over your lower back, sending a shiver up your spine at the contact. “I’m amazed that you actually fell asleep on a plane, Ace. I don’t think you’ve ever done that before.”

“I haven’t.” You said around a yawn, flexing your toes to get some blood flow going in your legs again. “First time that’s ever happened” 

Joe nodded, letting out a curious hum as he bit back a smile. 

“Don’t be so full of yourself.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure it has to do with a lot of things, not just because I fell asleep on you.” 

“Technically, I fell asleep on you, remember?” He smirked. “You were already asleep when you moved to my chest.” 

“Here we go.” You rolled your eyes again, leaning back against your seat, his arm still looped behind you. “I’m never going to hear the end of this.” 

“I guess we’ll have to sit next to each other on every flight so you can get some proper sleep, huh?” He winked, sliding his hand from under your hoodie and up to the back of your neck. His thumb gently worked into the sore muscle on the side, causing you to groan at the relief. “S’that the spot?” 

You lifted your hand, pinching the bridge of your nose as he chuckled. 

The flight attendant wheeled her cart next to you, and Joe got both of you a coffee. It was definitely shitty airplane coffee, but you didn’t care. Joe lowered his tray down, taking both coffees along with the cream and sugar provided to him. He paused, looking over at you with a soft frown before looking back at the coffee. 

“What?” You asked. 

“I need my hand.” He muttered, squeezing the base of your neck gently. 

“Oh, sorry.” You stuttered out, face heating up as you averted your gaze. 

“No need to be sorry.” His mischievous and playful tone was gone, replaced by something softer and sweeter. “I’m the one who can’t keep his hands to himself.” 

You had to bite your tongue to keep from telling him that you didn’t want him to keep his hands to himself. The back of your neck felt cold without his hand there.  

Once both coffees were prepared with sugar and a little bit of cream, he handed the paper cup over. 

“Careful, it’s hot.” He said softly, lifting his own coffee to his lips. “And disgusting.” 

You laughed at his grimace, taking a sip with a shrug.

“Coffee’s coffee.” You said. 

Joe leaned back in his chair, coffee cup in his right hand and his left arm sliding behind you so that his left hand could rest on the curve of your hip like it had been earlier. His fingers dug into the softness there, and suddenly your throat felt dry again. You glanced over to see him smirking, like he was daring you to say something to him. 

You didn’t say anything, choosing to be selfish for just a little bit longer until the plane landed and things went back to normal between the two of you.

Joe smiled into his coffee as you leaned closer, taking a deep breath. 

“We should probably spend some time away from each other in Paris like Poppy suggested.” You said softly. “Things are getting…complicated.” 

“It’s only complicated if you make it that way.” He said. “I think it’s very simple, actually.” 

“Oh, yeah?” You chuckled, glancing up at him as he nodded. “How so?”

“Friends can hold hands, and cuddle.” He said. “I do it with the boys all the time.” 

There was that word again. 

Friends. 

“Yeah.” You muttered. “I guess that’s true.” 

The rest of the plane ride was fairly quiet, the two of you whispering back and forth about his schedule for the week. You made sure to let him know that you had planned out a few touristy things for him to do so that you could get some good pictures for his social media. He rolled his eyes, but you reminded him that keeping his accounts up to date was crucial to keeping his fans engaged. 

When you started to descend into Charles De Gaulle, you put the window up to look over the city of love. You’d been once before with Joe, but back then you were new and afraid to leave the hotel room just in case Joe needed you at the drop of a hat. 

With a few years under your belt, you realized that it was okay to go out and enjoy the places you were visiting. Joe and the rest of the band would go with you sometimes, but there were a lot of times when you went off on your own to explore when he was busy with the band. 

Once the plane landed, and everyone was deboarding, Joe took your suitcase with his own, rolling them both in front of him as you tried to snatch it back. He refused, rolling it around himself in a fit of laughter when you tried to grab it. 

“You’re being cheeky.” You swatted his arm, hiking your tote bag higher up on your shoulder as you walked to the exit. “It’s not a crime to let me wheel my own suitcase.” 

“I’m just being a gentleman.” He tilted his chin towards the door. “Is the car already here?” 

“Should be.” You glanced down at your phone, searching for the notification from the driver as you both stepped out into the crisp Paris air. “I think it’s a black car-”

Something crashed into your side, your body stumbling to the side. 

People were shouting and cameras were flashing around you, but it was impossible to register exactly what was going on when you were still stunned by being thrown off balance. You felt someone wrap their hand around your upper arm, pulling you towards them. At first, you wanted to pull away, but when you looked back you realized it was Joe trying to guide you out of the crowd. 

After years of being in close proximity to Joe, you’d seen his reaction to things like paparazzi and intrusive interviewers a million times before, but you’d never seen him like this before. He looked terrified as he slipped his hand down, linking your fingers together so you wouldn’t get separated in the chaos.

You held onto him like a lifeline, keeping your head down as bodies pushed against you and people shouted in your ear. 

In hindsight, you should have realized there would be photographers outside waiting to get pictures. It was fashion week, and a lot of big names were going to be arriving over the course of a few days. The logic behind it didn’t soothe your fear. You couldn’t even hear yourself think over the wooshing sound of your heart pounding in your chest.

Joe managed to get you to the car, though you were no help in the process. He dragged you in front of him, practically tossing you in the backseat before shutting the door. You looked around, eyes still wide with panic as the cameras flashed, people pressed up against the windows trying to get a picture.  

You didn’t even register that Joe had slid into the backseat next to you, hand dropping to squeeze your thigh. You snapped your head around to see Joe running his fingers through his hair in frustration. Copying his move from earlier, you turned your hand over and intertwined your fingers between his, squeezing three times as if to say ‘I’ve got you’. He lifted your joined hands, resting them against his chest like he’d done on the plane, just above his heart. 

It was pounding, the erratic beat of it thumping against the back of your hand. 

“Are you okay?” You asked, brushing your thumb over his knuckles. 

“I should be asking you that.” He let out a huff, shaking his head. “They just tried to knock you over and you’re worried about me?” 

“I’m always worried about you.” You whispered. “It’s my-” 

“Do not say it’s your job.” The puppy dog eyes were back, big and round and breaking your heart. “We both know it’s more than that, so please don’t lie to me right now." 

You bit the inside of your cheek, biting back words that would only make things worse.

“When we get to the hotel, I think we should spend the afternoon apart.” You said softly, looking towards the front of the car. “The last few days have been a lot and like I said earlier, some distance might be good for us.” 

Joe didn’t say anything, but you could tell that he wanted to argue.

All weekend and into the following week, you keep a running list of ideas that starts out in your head, but gradually inks its way onto a piece of scrap paper at your desk.

Self-conscious about size.

Awkward in bed.

Bad kisser.

Studying the list, your mind starts to wander down inappropriate pathways—just how great is Kyle in bed, anyway?—and you hastily pivot to…less tangible possibilities.

Judgy.

Emotionally unavailable.

Impossible to please.

By the time Friday comes around again, you’ve got nothing to show for your work but a dozen ideas and a few new grey hairs. As you pack your things for the weekend, you knock over a stack of paperwork with an errant elbow. 

Lt. Riley, who has an uncanny ability to show up exactly when he isn’t needed, pauses by your open door as you scurry for the fallen pages. “Need a hand?”

“No, I’ve got it, thanks.” You rearrange the files on your desk, and everything seems to be in order. Except—

The lieutenant stoops to pick up a scrap of paper that’d drifted over beside his boot. 

Oh, come on. You lunge for it, but Riley’s already picked it up, holding it high out of your reach like a big brother taunting a puny sibling. “What’s this, then?”

“It’s for a project.”

He looks at the paper, eyes widening the further they track down the page. Still lofting it high over your head, he flicks his gaze to you. You lift your chin and try to look strong, instead of like you want to melt into the floor.

“Want to tell me who this is about?”

Like hell. “It’s my business, sir.”

Riley holds you in suspense for a few more seconds before lowering his arm just enough for you to snatch the list back. He still makes you go up on your toes for it. Bastard.

“Just make sure your business stays out of our work,” he warns. His tone is stern but not cruel, and he waits for your nod before carrying on his way.

Face burning, you tuck the paper into your pocket.

Like you’d ever mix your personal life with work.

A friend had asked you to dogsit for the weekend, and it presents an opportunity too good to pass up.

“I still don’t know why we have to drive all the way to Tillington.”

“‘All the way to Tillington’, he says. Like it’s not a fifteen minute drive.”

You throw Kyle a dry look where he sits in your passenger seat, your friend’s cocker spaniel, Ruby, sat on his lap. He’d dug his heels in every step of the way, but you’re gratified to see that not even Kyle’s immune to big brown eyes and a wagging tail. Not complaining about dog hair now, is he?