Were We Ever Meant To Be? (rewriting)

When The Morning Comes

The thing was, she liked it.

Jack was holding her hand and she liked it.

It gave her a warm feeling inside. It felt so... right. The way his palm cradled the back of her hand, their fingers a messy knot of heat. She felt so needed, like this was where she was supposed to be. A sharp intake of breath interrupted her moment of self value as she snatched her hand away. Hawthorne sat up, a crazy light in his eyes as his sugar high came to a crashing stop. He sighed as Morrigan stood up and went into her bathroom. Her pale nose and cheeks had a steady pink flush creeping across them. She locked the door behind her and silently squealed, jumping up and down. However, her happiness was short-lived as she realized it was, probably, not intentional. But maybe it was? Their beds were far enough apart, and Morrigan knew Jack slept like a soldier standing to attention, with his hands straight by his side. Maybe he intentionally did it? Morrigan gripped the edge of her basin and exhaled shakily. She splashed water on her face and turned the tap off, turning on her heel to go back into her bedroom. Jack was still sleeping, his face peaceful and hair rumpled against his pillow. Cadence's mouth was pulled into its usual frown, even in sleeping form. Hawthorne was gone, the door into the hall ajar. She could hear loud footfalls receding down the hallway. Cadence rolled over, off of her mattress and onto the floor, sighing loudly as she made herself comfortable on the carpet. Morrigan headed towards the door, running her fingers through the end of her hair. As her hand landed on the doorknob, she stole one last fleeting glance at Jack. A small smile turned her lips up as she swung out of her door.

She found Hawthorne in the lobby, stretched out over one of the love seats. He had his face in a book, its pages spread over his nose and cheeks. He was swinging his legs off the arms of the chair. "Morrigan!" He sat up, grinning like a madman. "The kitchen is locked. I want fooooooooooooooooooood." He frowned and looked sad "Pleeeeeeeeeeaseeeee Mog, pleaseeee?" She sighed. "Hawthorne, it's half eight. You've probably only gotten about four hours of sleep, you need more." Hawthorne wailed and rolled off of the seat. "PLEASE Mog, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. I'm hungry!" He widened his eyes, making them rounder, wider. The blue of his eyes reflected the dim light that the chandelier was throwing off. She rolled her eyes. "Fine! Only two things though. No cooking." Hawthorne jumped and clapped his hands. She unlocked the kitchen door, letting loose what was equivalent to a 3 year old in a candy store. He clattered around the larder, looking for pre cooked food for his consumption. He finally emerged carrying a large lemon cake and a container of nacho mince. Morrigan raised her eyebrows. "Are you going to eat those together?" Hawthorne scoffed. "Of course not silly. Now, are you getting anything?" Morrigan shrugged her shoulders. "Why not?" She poked around, looking for something that appealed to her. She decided on some Greek yogurt and Jack's favourite chocolate, because he could be hungry. She internally groaned. Why was she being like this? She didn't have to be so..so head over heels, knowing what made him happy and-. A loud crash knocked her out of her train of thoughts, as Hawthorne stood over three pans that were now on the floor. He smiled sheepishly, as Morrigan groaned and picked them up. "Out." She glared at him, and they quickly left the kitchen.

As she and Hawthorne traversed the halls on the way back to her room, Hawthorne almost dropped his cake twice, almost walked into five walls and started stroking a potted plant. She rolled her eyes as she swung back into her room. Jack was now awake, sitting on the Octopus chair, his arms crossed over his chest and his legs stretched out on the floor, eyes searching the ceiling for something. His eyes snapped to Morrigan, his face pulling into a smirk as he eyed what was in Morrigan's arms. "Got something for me, have you?" Morrigan flushed and rolled her eyes, throwing the block of chocolate on the ground. "You're welcome Jackie, take it or leave it." A small, true smile turned his cheekbones up as he reached for the block. Hawthorne stumbled in, carrying his nacho mince and cake and giggling. He went for the cake and hesitated. "Shit! We forgot cutlery." Morrigan sighed for the zillionth time and stood. Jack stood too. "I'll go as well." Morrigan's eyebrows turned downwards and a heat crept across her cheeks and nose. She walked lightly down the hallway, her bare, pale feet a stark contrast to the dark grey carpet. She crossed her arms, rubbing her biceps in the cool hallway. Jack turned to her and smirked. "Cold, are you?" Morrigan scowled. "Maybe you should've worn something warmer. Because you know, it's winter?" She glanced down at her black camisole and black pyjama shorts. "Well, it was hot in the room last night, you know, with the fire going and everything." Jack rolled his eyes. "The fire wasn't going the whole time, Mog." She rolled her eyes. "Well, do you want to pick my pyjamas from now on, Jacky?" Jack snorted. "My Dame Chanda phase." He hesitated. "But no. You look good."