Not This Time

Nina: July 27, 1986

     As much as I'd been anticipating getting back to my own bed after the Canadian leg, I hadn't slept one little bit since the crew had arrived in New York at eight this morning. My body clock just hadn't let me sleep all day. Now that it was getting late again and I was wearing down like I normally would after a show, all the papers from my time that I'd been sifting through all day just looked redundant. I gathered them all up in no particular order and tossed them into a folder. One of them escaped and floated to the floor, but I was too lazy to pick it up.
     I had just dropped the folder onto the section of kitchen counter that I used as work space when Jon's key rattled in the door. The singer stepped through the door quietly, watching where he was walking, and closed it gently behind him. When he looked up, I had already crossed back over to the couch, intending to pick up that paper, but then we made eye contact.
     Jon smiled and quickly made his way across the floor to me. He didn't even say anything before leaning forward to kiss me, one hand on the small of my back, drawing me closer, and the other on the back of my neck where my necklace was tied. I brought my arms up and wrapped them around his neck as I kissed him. God, I'd missed him. I could feel his fingers running through my hair, despite the significant difference in length from the last time he'd done so.
     Jon chuckled a little into the kiss and pulled away, still playing with my hair. "I've wanted to do this all tour," he confided, brushing his fingers through my hair again and again.
     "You like it?" I asked.
     Jon nodded. "Way more than I thought I would." I smiled a little more. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and squeezed. "At first, I thought those three weeks in Vancouver without you were a struggle," he said with the slightest hint of amusement in his voice, "But they were nothing compared to these past two weeks of tour."
     "I never said it would be easy," I mumbled, resting my head against his shoulder.
     I could feel Jon's annoyed huff blow across my hair as he leaned his head on mine. "You never said it'd be this hard either," he complained gently. I traced spirals against his tee shirt, wandering around my own thoughts and feeling a little guilty, again, that he was even doing this for me. I didn't deserve him.
     "You can still get out," I sighed reluctantly. Jon let out a tiny chuckle.
     "Uh-uh," he retorted, shaking his head as he looked down at me. I returned his gaze to find a sweet smile on his face. He shook his head again, leaning closer to me. "It'll be alright," he whispered, "Just let me kiss you a minute."
     I smiled into his kiss. One of his hands found its way back into my hair while the other slipped down my side and into my back pocket. I couldn't help the airy sound that escaped me when he kissed along my jaw. He groaned against my neck, pressing himself against me, as close as he could get without removing clothes. Even with the clothes, though, his growing excitement was pretty obvious. I grinned and shook my head.
     "Slow down there, Rockstar," I laughed, pulling away from him a little. He stared back in confusion. "We've got the whole break to make up for these last two weeks."
     Jon shook his head and leaned forward to nuzzle at my neck again. "But we've got five weeks to make up for," he muttered against my skin. As much as I loved the feeling, I leaned away again. He sighed and met my gaze. He looked so disappointed, it was heartbreaking. I pouted a little, bringing a hand up to play with the ends of his hair absently.
     "I haven't slept in two days," I said.
     Jon's disappointment faded a little, but only a little. "So you're tired," he concluded.
     I nodded. "I know you want to," I assured him, running my hands up his chest, over his shoulders, and up into his hair, "Believe it or not, I really do too. I just.." I paused and took a deep breath tiredly. "I have no umph right now."
     Jon smiled a little at the phrase.
     "I just want to have a glass of wine and relax a little bit before I go to bed," I said, taking a step back and rubbing my tired eyes. When I looked back at him, Jon's smile had grown. He mussed my hair affectionately before taking a deep breath and stepping away as well.
     I followed him into the kitchen, where he pulled out a bottle of wine to pop open. The bottle in his hands was blue with a gold cork seal. The white label that went around it had a gold ribbon trim. Jon only turned the bottle in his hands, examining it himself, but I reached for it and took it from him before he could open it.
     "I thought you wanted wine," Jon questioned, giving me a confused look. I held the bottle to myself and nodded to the bottle on the counter.
     "There's a bottle of pinot noir right there on the counter," I told him. He gave me another look as he reached for the bottle of red wine. He wanted an explanation. I tilted my head a little, turning the bottle and looking at the label I'd made for this wine on my birthday back in 2009.
     "This wine is special," I said with an embarrassed laugh, "I'm saving it for an extra special occasion."
     Jon rolled his eyes but smirked all the same as he pulled the cork out of the pinot noir bottle. I knelt down and put the bottle back in the wine cabinet from which it came. When I straightened, Jon was pouring a wine into a second glass for himself. He didn't look up at me as he slid a glass toward me. He was looking for the cork. I watched him with an amused smirk as he picked it up and recorked the bottle.
     "Thanks," I mumbled. Jon looked up at that. His hair was falling in his face again. He smiled, picking up his glass and tapping it to mine. He walked away toward the couch as he took a sip of wine. I didn't notice his gaze drifting to the paper on the floor until he leaned forward and picked it up.
     He took another sip of wine, standing next to the coffee table as he read the paper. He nearly choked on his wine when he realized what it was. With a grin, he turned back to me. "MASH, really? What are you, eight?"
     I joined him by the couch and took the paper so that I could look at it myself. Oh right. Penny's girly, perfect handwriting was unmistakable. When I'd gotten back to my time, she and Emma had somehow become best friends. They's designed a special game of MASH just for me. Everything about the game was standard except the 'Husband' category. Penny and Emma had written each of Bon Jovi's original band members' names in this category, giving me five potential outcomes instead of the usual three. I took a drink of wine, shaking my head at the memory.
     "A couple of my friends were making fun of me," I explained honestly, still shaking my head. I shrugged. I was about to crumple up the paper when Jon snatched it out of my hands.
     "I saw my name on this," he commented before taking another sip of his wine. He smirked over his shoulder at me as he plopped down on my couch. I frowned at him and rolled my eyes, taking a drink of wine as well. It wasn't like that was really our future. Jon held the paper up in front of him, swirling his wine around his glass as he read. "So I'm your husband."
     I smirked and sat down next to him. "They were just making fun of me, Rockstar," I repeated, "Because they know Bon Jovi is my favorite band." Jon raised an eyebrow at me over his wine glass as I took a drink from mine. I smiled a little at his expression and shrugged. "The whole band is on there. Look, I could have ended up with Tico! Or Richie!"
     "You would never end up with Richie," Jon stated before taking another sip of wine. Then he added, "I don't think he's ever gonna get married." With a knowing smirk, I shook my head again and reached for the sheet of paper, but Jon smacked my hand away gently. "Hold on," he mumbled into his glass. He downed what was left and set his glass down on the coffee table. "Let's look at this future."
     "It's just a stupid game of chance, Rockstar," I groaned, frowning at him a little. It was weird for me to talk about a future for us when I wasn't sure how long I was going to be a part of it.
     "Good chances apparently," Jon said with a grin, putting his arm around me and holding the game up in front of his face again.
     "What are you, eight?" I mocked as I leaned against him and took a sip of wine. Jon snickered.
     "An apartment in New York," he read aloud. I grinned into my wine when he looked up and around. "Check." He smiled at me and then looked back at the paper. I drank the last bit of my wine and set the glass down on the table. I could feel his gaze before I met it. "Four kids?" he chuckled.
     I got up with a roll of my eyes. "Oh God," I grumbled, shaking my head as I took the empty wine glasses into the kitchen.
     "You don't want a big family?" He asked.
     I didn't turn back to him just yet. He didn't need to see the grimace that had involuntarily formed at the thought of children. It wasn't that I didn't like or want them, it was just that I didn't really feel a need, nor a desire, to think about them so soon, let alone with him.
     "I'm taking that silence as a no," he laughed lightly.
     I finally turned back to him and sighed, "Can we not talk about this? I've got a few good years before I should have to worry about kids."
     Jon smirked at me as I made my way back to him but nodded all the same. By the time I sank back onto the couch next to him, he was already looking back down at the paper for the next topic to tease me about.
     "Why do we name our dog Tonto?" he asked simply, looking up at me with the faintest smile I'd ever seen.
     I grinned and shrugged, shaking my head. "I don't know! Ask Emma!"
     "At least you're making $75,000 a year," Jon pointed out, glancing at me a minute. In a quieter voice he added, "I'd still be making more than you.." I smacked his chest gently, pulling myself away from his shoulder to gape at him with an amused grin.
     "Cocky, much?" I retorted. Jon smirked back and stuck his tongue out at me. I shook my head and reached for the paper once more, but Jon held it away from me, out of my reach. "Rockstar!" I protested with a laugh as I lost my balance and nearly fell across his lap.
     "Oh, but you're an actress!" he read, "Look who's come up in the world!" He grinned at me and scrunched up my nose at his teasing. He glanced back at the paper, and paused. Something on there didn't make sense to him. "I get the option for 'Audio Engineer', but why the hell was 'Personal Assistant' an option?" he laughed.
     "That's what I was in another life," I answered without missing a beat, making another attempt for the paper. This time, when Jon moved the paper away, I fell forward and landed with my hands on the other side of his legs.
     "That explains a lot," he joked, ignoring my current predicament. He didn't seem to mind my waist so close to his face. I huffed and twisted to look at him.
     "What is that supposed to mean?" I scoffed, with a grin. Jon laughed but didn't answer my question. I shifted so that I wasn't playing London Bridge over Jon's legs. Once on my feet, I  put my hands on my hips. Jon smirked up at me from the paper.
     "What kind of Ford?" he teased. I sneered mockingly and tried, again, to grab the paper from his hands, but he evaded, laughing at my aggravation. I straddled his legs, sat on his knees, and reached for the paper. Jon held the MASH game above his head and behind him with one hand and tickled my stomach with the other.
     I slapped at his hand in surprise as I brought my other arm around my stomach to protect myself. It wasn't fair. He wasn't half as ticklish as I was. He must have seen where my eyes were looking because when I went for the paper again, Jon wrapped an arm around me and pulled me down with him as he leaned to the side.
     He left the paper on the back of the couch, pinning me against the cushions with a childish grin. He was laughing at me. That smile. I couldn't help smiling too. After a minute, he leaned forward and kissed me. I let my eyes slip closed as my arms snaked up and around his neck like usual. I could feel one of his hands on my waist, keeping me from falling off the couch.
     That stupid game. Kissing him like that made me wish that it was really possible, but I knew it wasn't. The problem was that he didn't. He didn't know that I wasn't his happy ending. The fact that I did made this whole situation with the MASH game feel like a carrot on a stick. What was I going to do when that time came? What had I ever planned to do? How had he even convinced me that we belonged together? Why had I let him?
     Jon pulled away and smiled at me. That was it. It was that smile. I was powerless against that smile. I brought my hand  down to brush some of his hair back and my eyes fell on the paper he'd left on the back of the couch. I snatched it from its resting place and rolled out from under him, onto the floor.
     "Ha!" I declared, jumping to my feet. His eyes darted to where he'd left the paper. Slowly, he turned back to me, smirking at my sneakiness. With one last annoyed glance at the game, I ripped it in half. Then in fourths.
     "That's our future you're destroying!" Jon protested overdramatically. The grin on his face made it clear that he was still teasing me. I dropped the shreds of paper in his lap and leaned forward toward him.
     I put a hand on his shoulder and shook my head. "It's really not," I replied. The tone of my voice was hard for even me to identify. It could have been mistaken for sadness, but it might have also been mistaken for annoyance, so it was really anyone's guess. God knew how Jon took it. I offered a tight lipped smile and  straightened. Jon's eyes followed me as I walked away toward my bedroom.
     I pulled my shirt over my head and turned it inside out, frowning at myself as I entered my bedroom. I tossed my shirt into my laundry hamper and brought my hands up to my face. The future was a scary thing. Even when you knew what was supposed to happen. Sometimes, even more so. I sighed and unclipped my bra, slipping out of it and tossing it into the hamper as well. I knew I'd never have a future like that with Jon, but if I told him that, it would come across wrong and we wouldn't have a present either.
     My stomach twisted just thinking about it.
     "Why did you even..." I mumbled to myself under my breath as I pulled on a camisole to sleep in. I started to undo my jeans. I didn't notice Jon standing in the doorway until he spoke.
     "Does it bother you that much?" he asked quietly, leaning on the door frame with his arms crossed. I glanced over at him and let out a sigh, shaking my head.
     "I'm just tired," I said, stepping out of my pants.
     "Liar," he scoffed, pushing off the door frame. I looked back up at him with a frown as I pulled up the gray cotton shorts I usually slept in. He stepped toward me, smiling a little as he stopped in front of me. "Look me in the eye and say that again."
     I closed the space between us and stared into those blue eyes of his defiantly. "I'm tired," I repeated, over pronouncing each syllable. Jon shook his head, but didn't say anything as I turned away, picked up my jeans, and tossed them into my hamper.
     Jon sighed and wrapped his arms around my middle. "It's just a game," he reminded me, kissing the side of my head affectionately before resting his own there. "We're not talking about getting married. We're not talking about kids or an apartment or how we're actually naming our dog Copper, not Tonto."
     I smirked a little and elbowed him gently. He chuckled but let me go. I hopped onto my bed and crawled across the covers toward my pillow. Jon pulled his shirt up over his head as I shifted to get under the covers. He shuffled over to his side of my bed and stepped out of his sweatpants, leaving him standing there in his boxers.
     Jon pulled the covers back and slid into bed next to me. I let him put his arm around me and pull me closer, but my mind was still dwelling on the future. He was everything I'd ever wanted and he was made for someone else. For Dorothea. I frowned even more at the anxious butterflies in my stomach. Jon glanced at me and then back up at the ceiling.
     Out of nowhere he started singing quietly, "It's a girl, my Lord, in a flatbed Ford, slowin' down to take a look at me." His singing pulled me out of my thoughts and I hit his arm playfully, turning toward him with a smirk. He grinned back, leaning closer and closer as he went on, "Come on, baby. Don't say maybe. I gotta know if your sweet love is gonna save me."
     Then he kissed me again. He didn't hold this one out forever and ever. He didn't try to stick his tongue in my mouth. It was soft and sweet and the feeling behind it felt genuine, like that affection was all he wanted to leave me with. He pulled away with one more quick peck and smiled slightly.
     "Take it easy," he whispered. I smiled, which made him smile. "There she is."
     I snuggled up against him, using his arm as my pillow. His hand rested on my waist, hugging me to him. I closed my eyes. Even if this was only temporary, I'd take what I could get. For the time being, he was happy with me, and that was all I wanted.