She was lying in bed when he found her, eyes trained to the ceiling, dark and wide like they had been when he left.

“Joey?”

She didn’t move from her place, arms tucked around her body, head tilted slightly to the side. She felt the bed sink slightly under his weight, and his hand over her stomach, but kept her eyes on the ceiling, watching the shadow of his form move over the stained white paint.

“Jo.” He sighed, fingers trailing a circle over the tiny sliver of skin at her waist. Her hips shifted upwards involuntarily, without regard to the scowl on her face. The movement urged a tiny smile on his part, and he raised an eyebrow when she finally looked at him. “Then I guess you’re still alive?”

“Don’t worry,” she muttered, giving him a dry smile. “I didn’t slit my wrists on your account.”

“Oh. I don’t know whether to be hurt or overjoyed.”

Joey took his palm to her mouth, and kissed the skin gently. “A little of both.”

Pacey’s smile widened as her lips closed around his finger, kissing it slowly, wrapping her tongue around it once before she let his hand drop. “So am I forgiven?”

“I don’t know. That depends. If it means ‘Joey gets mad, pisses Pacey off and no-one gets lucky or happy’, then yes, you’re forgiven. If you have some elaborate scheme with which to prove your love to me and I’d just be wasting it by giving in too early, then…no, I think you’re a jerk, and go ahead.”

Pacey paused for a moment, letting all the information sink in before he smirked, pulling at a piece of her hair. “You are quite unbelievable. Where did I find you. Joey Potter?”

“Thrown out somewhere with the trash.” She pulled his arm, tugging at it until he collapsed onto the bed next to her.

“You were a lucky find.”

Joey grinned slowly, rolling over onto her side to look at him. “Careful, Pacey, your comments are bordering on the painfully clichéd.”

“They’re not clichéd if they’re true.” He placed a quick kiss on her nose. “Don’t make me force some sense into that weird brain of yours.”

Joey laughed softly, the sound warming them both. “It is a weird brain. But feel lucky, it’s original-weird. A Potter own, unable to be reproduced. There’s nobody quite like me.”

“That I would agree with.” He grinned, smoothing her hair with his hand, eyes dark as they watched hers. “I’m glad you forgave me, Potter.”

“Hey…” She pushed gently on his chest. “Did I say that?”

“Am I wrong?” his smile widened. “I thought that’s what you said.”

“Well, you were wrong. I’m going for the elaborate scheme. Surprise me, Pacey.”

“Surprise you? What, you want a diamond ring and a booking at the registrar?”

Joey ignored the sarcasm in his voice. “I think some grovelling would do. Having said that, I do have a penchant towards nice jewellery, so if you’re in the mood to update my oh-so-passé emerald studs….” She raised an eyebrow, rolling back over onto her back. “It’s okay, Pace, you don’t have to get me anything. Or grovel. I…” She took a deep breath, eyes finding the ceiling again.

Too afraid to face him.

“I’m sorry. I came on too strong. I don’t want you to think that I’m some sort of…” She stopped, eyes wide, and shook her head. “Never mind.”

Pacey felt something tighten in his chest. “Some sort of what?” he asked, his voice breaking in the thick air, caught somewhere in his throat. He watched her, eyes sad as he took in her nervous hesitation, the embarrassment.

“It really is nothing…” Joey sat up, letting her legs slip over the side of the bed, her back to him. Her feet touched the padded floor, and she curled her toes over, fingers gripping the sheet. “Want a drink?”

“No.” She heard him sit up too, and could feel his eyes on her. “I want you to tell me what you were going to say.”

“It…doesn’t matter.” Still avoiding his gaze, Joey clambered into the kitchen. Pacey listened to the sound of her feet, light, uneasy. Shaking his head, he followed her.

“Joey…” There was a warning in his voice, but she ignored it, hurrying around, pouring water into a kettle as she made herself a coffee. “Jo, look at me.” His fingers laced tightly around her wrist, and he pulled her to him, forcing her to turn around and meet his gaze.

Joey’s breathing increased, and she tried hard to calm it as she stared numbly at the floor. Slowly, Pacey reached out, and placing a cool finger underneath her chin, he lifted it to face him. Her eyes were wide and unsure, damp, though she wasn’t crying.

He wondered how hard it was for her to hold back, why she thought she had to.

“Some sort of what?” he whispered, repeating her words, his own, waiting for her reply.

“Some sort of slut.” Joey watched his face, saw the look of surprise, his eyes trying to gauge the emotion in her own.

“You don’t mean that.”

“You’re right.” She laughed warily. “I don’t. I don’t mean that.” She turned again. “Forget I said a word.”

He grabbed her again, this time harsher, and she winced as he pulled her around. There was contrition on his face, but he didn’t let her go. “I don’t think of you that way.”

“Are you sure?”

“What?” Angrily, he shook his head, eyes boring into hers. “How could you think that? How could you think that I would think that?”

“Because you…” She stopped her self short, surprise in her voice.

“Because I stopped you.”

“Yeah. Because you stopped me, and you left. You just let me, sitting there, alone. Alone like I was wrong, like all this time I thought you wanted me, thought you wanted to be with me, was a lie. Like it was some sort of casual apology, a goodbye, a “see ya Joey, I’m out of here.”” She shook her head. “What was I supposed to think, Pacey?”

Pacey was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry.” He took in the look on her face and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Jo, I didn’t mean it that way.”

“What did you mean?”

“When I work it out?” He leaned over, kissing her briefly. “You’ll be the first to know.”

Joey let his arms envelop her, feeling the anger wash away, the tears fade somehow, his arms tight around her, the two of them standing there, in the middle of the kitchen. It wasn;t an answer, but it was enough. For the moment, it had to be enough. Turning her head to the side, she rested it against his chest.

“You’re forgiven, Witter.”

“I am?”

“Sure.” There was a smile in her voice, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want that elaborate scheme though….”

Pacey laughed softly, holding her tighter.

“I’ll work on it, Potter.”