First Contact - Jack Johnson fanfic

First Contact

2AM. I squeezed my eyes shut and open again, hoping to force some energy into them but I'd been falling asleep for the past half hour trying to finish this essay. I decided to leave it for the night, no use trying anymore. I shut my laptop and rolled over, flicking off my bedside lamp. My head was just about to hit the pillow when my phone started vibrating. I considered leaving it to ring but figured it must be important for this time of night. I didn't recognise the number.

"Hello," I moaned groggily. This better be worth it.

"Hey baaaabe," the caller sloppily replied. Even in my half awakeness and even though they seemed incredibly drunk I recognised Johnson's voice. Although in the back of my mind I was somewhat upset that he had changed his number without telling me I pushed that thought away before replying.

"What's the matter Jack? Where are you?" I sat up, my heart now racing. We hadn't spoken in 2 weeks, since we bumped into each other at the Grove and exchanged brief pleasantries. I had been waiting for him to contact me since then, too scared to reach out myself in case it seemed clingy or annoying. Besides he was too busy lately to want to meet up with someone irrelevant like me anyways.

The sounds in the background of his call were already a dead giveaway. He was at some dumb party and needed a ride home.

"Babe can you come pick me up? 410 Redwood Drive?" I didn't even hesitate.

"Yeah sure, I'll be there soon."

"Thanksss," he slurred as I hung up. I leapt straight out of bed, throwing on some nearby clothes hanging over a chair and thundering down the stairs, then out into the cold. My hair was still wet from my earlier shower and I felt goosebumps on my arms as I climbed in the car and turned the heating up to full. After locating 410 Redwood Drive on my phone maps- 20 minutes away in the posher part of the city, I headed off. I secretly hoped Johnson was in a worse mental state than I imagined, my car wasn't the cleanest for once and I didn't want him to notice.

Stop, I told myself. You don't need to impress him, he's not interested in you anyways. Well then why did he call me, and not some other girl? I tried to push these thoughts away as I navigated through the quiet streets. I heard the party before I saw it. Thankfully Johnson was already waiting outside, sitting on the ground with a half empty bottle of cheap beer. Great.

I got out of the car, prying the bottle from his hands and tossing it onto the lawn. "Who are you? What the hell?" He asked. Ignoring his somewhat hurtful questions upon remembering his state, I helped him into the car as I got back in myself, locking the doors. He'd stopped asking questions now and just stared ahead in dead silence. Now I was stuck with a dilemma, should I take him back to his place or mine? It would seem pushy of me to take him to mine, and besides his place was closer. Don't ask how I remembered his address but we made it there in less than 10 minutes.

I had to help him out of the car again and as soon as he was out in the fresh air, he vomited all over himself. He'd always been a lightweight. Trying to push my disgust to the side in respect of his dignity, I reached into his jeans pocket, fumbling for his keys.

"Cmon babe, aren't you gonna take me for dinner first?" He smirked, awkwardly patting my back.

"In your dreams," I answered curtly, taking advantage of the situation and the fact he wouldn't remember. I soon had the keys in the door and flicked on the lights. I kicked my shoes off and helped him wiggle his off, I knew he wasn't fussy about shoes in the house but it had always been a habit of mine. I led him carefully upstairs to where I assumed his bathroom would be. Once in there I stood looking at him for a few seconds, again in a bit of a dilemma. He looked down at himself, stunned by the sudden appearance of vomit all over his clothes. I felt bad, he seemed so vulnerable and quiet and helpless.

"Let's get you out of these," I said, slowly stepping towards him and rolling up the bottom of his thin t-shirt carefully as not to spread the vomit anywhere else.

"You're just trying to see me naked," he sulked, but let me awkwardly pull it off him anyways. I felt like I was undressing a baby. He tried to fumble with his own belt for a few seconds before I took over, brushing his clumsy hands aside. Lord knows how he managed to get vomit on his jeans as well. He soon kicked those off, and I found a washcloth to try and freshen him up a bit. As I waited for the water to warm up, he suddenly started looking around anxiously.

"Where's my jacket?"

"I didn't see it, you weren't wearing one," I replied.

"That fucking jacket cost me like $200. Go back and get it," he whined.

"You can get it in the morning, don't be silly," I ignored him, rolling my eyes. He stuck out his lip, realising there was no point in arguing. I soon turned back to him with the cloth and carefully dabbed his face and sweaty hairline, then his damp chest.

"Thank you love," he said softly under his breath, all cockiness suddenly gone. I smiled to myself, hoping he didn't see.

"Alright loverboy you really need to brush your teeth," I pushed him away in false disgust. I handed him a toothbrush and toothpaste, which I immediately realised was a bit mean as I saw him look confusedly at the toothpaste as though he didn't know what to do with it. He just started laughing hysterically.

"This is G's toothbrush," he giggled, handing it back and taking the other one. I watched amused as he fiddled with the small cap on the toothpaste and eventually passed it to me in self defeat. I sighed, undoing it and passing it back to him. I regretted this straight away and watched horrified as he squirted almost the entire tube all over his brush.

"FOR GOD'S SAKE JACK", I screamed exasperated as I caught the huge blob before it fell to the ground. He couldn't stop laughing as I chucked it in the sink and rinsed my hands. I snatched the brush and tube back from him and he watched, still slightly shaking from laughter as I put a more sane amount on his brush and passed it back.

"Don't tell me I have to brush your teeth for you," I huffed, finding it difficult to hold back my own laughter. He looked so ridiculous standing there in his underwear and socks. He looked me straight in the eyes, never breaking contact as he took the brush and tried to hide his struggle. Admittedly it took him about 6 minutes and he missed his mouth multiple times but he eventually finished a decent job, looking quite proud of himself.

"Go get in your bed I'll be there in a minute," I told him, edging him towards the direction of his room. I grabbed his dirty clothes and the box of painkillers I had noticed in the bathroom and ran downstairs, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. I quickly emptied his jeans pockets and threw the clothes in the washing machine, putting it on a thorough wash cycle.

When I got back up he was still standing on the landing, stuck in some sort of daze. I smiled knowingly, leading him carefully to his room, my hand on his back. He felt so fragile under my touch, his skin so soft and a wave of happiness rushed through me, glad that he had chosen me to call in his time of need.

I sat him down on the bed, handing him two painkillers and taking the lid off the water bottle.

"What are these?" he asked, looking incredulously at the tablets in his hand.

"Magic beans. Eat them," I said. He looked up at me in horror.

"You're trying to poison me," he complained, but put them in his mouth obediently. I gave him the water and he downed half the bottle without stopping for breath. He then lay down, pulling the sheets right up under his chin. He was so cute.

"Witch," he whispered. I snickered.

"Go to sleep." I watched as he yawned and closed his eyes, enjoying the silence as I felt exhaustion wash over me as well. I impulsively bent down to kiss him on his cold forehead and suddenly felt two strong arms wrap around my neck.

"Please stay," he pleaded, his voice tired and raspy.

"If you insist," I sighed in false annoyance, shrugging my sweater off and joining him under the sheets. My heart was pounding, I was barely even close with this boy yet I'd been crushing on him for ages, and now I was spending the night in the same bed with him. I tried not to think about it too much as I lay with my back facing him, all too aware of my own breathing. I lay frozen for about 10 minutes until I felt his arm wrap around me.

"Stop you smell gross," I laughed uneasily. A lie. There was only the faint smell of alcohol and weed that remained, masked by his natural pleasant smell. I was answered only by his deep breathing which assured me he was asleep. It took me a while to fall asleep myself but I eventually did, his arm still wrapped around me.

I woke up a few hours later, incredibly cold and with a sore neck. I noticed he'd pulled the whole duvet over himself, leaving me without any warmth. Selfish fuck, I thought quietly, but it was hard to be angry as he looked so cuddly and young all wrapped up. It was only 7AM, I put my sweater back on and tiptoed out, grabbing his keys on my way out. I decided I'd go back to my place to freshen up a bit, then I could come back to make him some breakfast. I smiled to myself, pleased with this resolve. A good excuse to spend more time with him. Selfish, but nonetheless good.

Got home, showered again to wash any remaining smell of Johnson's vomit off myself, had a quick drink and snack. I was impatient to get back to his house. Before checking my appearance for the 100th time, I grabbed a few ingredients from my pantry and got back in my car.

When I returned he was still asleep. I had presumed Gilinsky had stayed the night with Madison, I wouldn't want to have to explain to him what I was doing there. I stood in the bedroom doorway for a while watching Johnson sleep peacefully, then shunned myself for being so creepy and Edward Cullen-ish. He started tossing and turning, I took this as a sign he'd be awake soon.

I made a start on breakfast, just pancakes the only recipe I really knew how to make. As I whisked it together I heard Johnson waking up and turning the shower on. I was suddenly overcome by doubt. What if he didn't want me here? What if he comes down to find a total stranger in his house? What if he calls the cops? I shook those thoughts aside. Bitch owes me.

I found some bacon in the fridge. Decided to cook that up. I was just cooking the first pancake when I heard Johnson in the kitchen doorway, I pretended to ignore him as he walked up behind me. I mentally prepared myself for him to be angry, for him to kick me out, ask what the fuck I think I'm doing but he didn't. Instead I felt him place his hands gently on my waist, his breath on my neck.

"Thank you for taking care of me last night," he whispered huskily. I couldn't hold back an involuntary shiver. He's just being nice, it doesn't mean anything, he doesn't give a shit about you you're just his ride home, I tell myself. I turned to face him, his hands still on my waist. He smiled down at me, his eyes bright and blue and I was suddenly hella intimidated. His scent was overwhelming and I could feel the heat radiating off his body, our lips were only a few inches apart and god I wanted to kiss him and I could if I tried but it took everything in me to hold back. His hair was soft and fluffy and still slightly damp and I craved to run my hands through it but I didn't dare.

"You're welcome," I whispered hoarsely, my voice cracking, coming undone. He still had his hands on my waist. Why was he doing this?

"I would have called an uber or something, but you were the first contact in my phone." He tried explaining.

"Oh," I mumbled, the disappointment in my voice apparent. My head dropped slightly, breaking eye contact. That's all I was to him. The first contact in his phone. A convenience. At least he had my number saved I guess, but I thought I might mean a little more to him than that. He gently placed a finger under my chin, tilting my head back up to meet his eyes. He leaned in and for a crazy second I thought he was going to kiss me, now tantalisingly close, but instead he pressed his lips to my ear.

"Your pancake's burning," he whispered, chuckling. Fucking tease.

"Fuck," I turned back taking the pan off the heat but it was too late, the bottom of the pancake was black. I sighed, throwing it in the bin, saddened by the waste.

I poured the next lot of mix onto the pan and turned back to Johnson who was standing at the fridge. I observed as he took out the orange juice and swigged it straight from the carton.

"Really?" I questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Want some?" He offered, smiling and wiping his mouth on his arm.

"I'll pass." I turned away, flipping my pancake, quite pleased with the golden colour. He took a seat at the kitchen bench and started scrolling through his phone.

"Oh shit," he suddenly stood up, panicking.

"What's the matter?" I asked, worried.

"I'm meant to go to a meeting with G at 10," he explained, shooting me an apologetic glance. It was 9.30.

"Oh no. That's ok," I tried to smile at him, but I felt as though I was about to cry.

"It'll only take about half an hour. Then we can come back and have our pancake date," he winked in an attempt to make me feel better.

"Oh yeah. I guess," I replied monotonously, turning off the pan.

"Hey don't be sad," he reassured, taking my hand. I smiled up at him and he smiled back. It was hard to be upset around him. "Do you think you could give me a ride?" He asked.

"Well, I suppose so." I nodded, sniffing slightly.

"You're a babe," he planted a quick kiss on my forehead. My breath hitched in my throat. "I'll just grab some stuff then we'll go." He let go of my hand and I suddenly felt empty watching him leave. I cleared up the bench quickly and he was soon ready to go.