You can’t soothe me with your sweet voice, If I can’t be your first choice You can’t soothe me with you deep eyes, If I can’t be your first prize You can’t soothe me with affection If it’s pointed in the wrong direction Unless you think that I’m perfection, Unless you think that I’m perfection…” “Soothe Me” by Vonda Shepherd

He had fallen asleep on the couch, like any other day. Jen stood watching him, a tiny smile on her face, and tried to figure out why it was tinged with sadness. Maybe, because despite everything, this wasn’t just any other day…. Some other guy was moving in tomorrow, and however much she knew “permanent” wasn’t in the picture, things were going to change.

Things were going to change like they had always changed. And it didn’t matter if they changed back again, because it would always be there, that knowledge that even for a moment, things had been different.

Jen rolled her eyes, wondering what the hell she was getting uptight about. How much could really change? She was going to be surrounded by not one, but possibly two gorgeous guys, so complaining was hardly fair.

She grinned. Two gorgeous guys and she still wasn’t getting any. She was getting far too used to keeping herself warm on cold nights. She had a feeling Pacey knew exactly what she meant- he hadn’t been seeing much in the way of a good lay recently either. Briefly, she wondered why that was.

Resorting to the lost art of doing it to herself. Funny, Jen thought. She’d never much needed to in her teenage years, rampant as her sex life had been. And here she was, picking up the skills ten years later when it felt like she wasn’t even going to be touched in an eternity.

Bending down, Jen looked at Pacey’s face, hair mussed with sleep, mouth curved into a generous smile. She grinned, reaching out a hand and touching his cheek gently. Well, there was always Pacey, she mused. Except the two of them had never….

Jen shook her head quickly and pulled her hand away, trying to rid herself of the thought. She couldn’t think about Pacey like that, he was her friend, her roommate, her confidante. A small blush spread over her cheeks and she looked down at the floor.

“Jen?”

His sleepy voice startled her, and she gripped onto the sofa arm to hold herself up. “Yeah?” she whispered, looking back up at him.

“What time is it?”

“Around two. You wanna head off to bed or are you planning on procuring the couch as your own now?”

Pacey smiled slowly, reaching out, half asleep and caressing her cheek. “I think I’ll migrate in a minute or two.” His eyes narrowed and he studied her for a moment. “Are you blushing, Jennifer?”

“No,” she told him hurriedly, shaking her head. F*uck it, he knew her well…

“Are you sure?” Pacey closed his eyes again, resting his head on the cushions. “Sure you haven’t been entertaining some wild and lurid fantasies about you, me and Michelle Pfeiffer in the back of a limo?”

Jen stood to her feet, rolling her eyes. “That’s your fantasy, Pacey.” She stepped over him and walked towards her bedroom door. It was definitely going to be dancing solo tonight.

Pacey grinned, falling back asleep as she banged her door shut. “Oh yeah,” he murmured, letting his dreams capture him again. Sighing, he pulled his legs up onto the couch and settled. He wasn’t going to be moving anywhere anytime soon.

Jen groaned, letting her feet hit the floor, toes curling up against the cold as she ruffled her sleep-mussed hair with one hand. It wasn’t that she hadn’t had enough sleep. Only that, considering the prospects of the day ahead, going back to bed was a much more entertaining idea.

Shaking her head, Jen got to her feet, leaving her sheets in a heap on her bed and floor and kicking her door open. Her eyes widened at the sight. Pacey, sitting on the couch, with a guy. A new guy. An older guy.

She raised an eyebrow, stifling a yawn and moving forward. They had stopped their conversation, whatever it had been, and were staring at her expectantly. Well screw them, she didn’t have any bright happy words to share this early in the morning.

“Let me guess,” Jen said, voice dry as she stared at the newcomer. “You’re the new milkman.”

He laughed, brown eyes warm, stepping up to her. It was strange how similar he looked to Pacey. Appealing already…

“Close,” he admitted. “I’m a police officer. But there are similarities; we both have to get up too early, wear unattractive uniforms and father many illegitimate babies.”

Jen tilted her head to the side, throwing Pacey a casual smile before turning back to the cop. “You have a wife and child in every neighbourhood district?”

There was a moment of frozen silence, and Jen winced, seeing Pacey’s uncomfortable expression, realising maybe she’d said something wrong.

Exceptionally well done, Jennifer. Open mouth, insert foot…

“Something like that,” he told her with a wry smile. He held out his hand. “I’m Mike by the way.”

“Hi, I’m…”

“Jen,” Pacey finished for her, moving to stand beside them. He flashed Mike a sympathetic smile. “Excuse her early morning sarcasm. It’s a lack of food and decent black coffee, don’t take it personally.”

“Unless you’re Pacey,” Jen cut in swiftly, glaring at him. “In which case take it very, very personally.”

Mike laughed. “I see. Is this a morning ritual?”

“What, my general grumpy fatigue and Pacey’s irritatingly cheerful awakeness?” Jen gave him a syrupy sweet smile. “Oh, I’m afraid so.” Sighing, she looked down at her baggy button-down shirt and boxers- both stolen from Pacey at some point or other- and grimaced, a small blush spread over her cheeks. She looked like hell. Figuratively speaking. “I need to change,” she muttered, not looking at either of the men who watched as she stumbled back into her bedroom.

“Hmm,” Mike said appreciatively as she disappeared. “Very nice.”

“What?” Startled, Pacey looked at him, eyes narrowing in confusion.

His eyes were still on Jen’s half-closed door. He moved to the right slightly, as if to look inside. He raised an eyebrow. “Your roommate. I was merely commenting that she’s…” he grinned. “Pretty damn hot.”

Pacey felt a knot of something unfamiliar inside his stomach, and clenched his jaw, gritting his teeth.
“Yeah,” he said, voice low, too hoarse. What the hell was wrong with him?”

“She’s got a great body.” Mike looked like he was undressing the image of her in his mind, and Pacey tried to hold back the glare.

“She has,” Pacey replied slowly, eyes fixed on Mike. Hearing the change in tone, Mike turned to his friend. “Which, of course, is a purely objective comment, considering…” he paused, letting his words sink in. “You have a wife.”

“Yeah.” Mike frowned, eyes turning towards the window. “I do.”

“Funny.” Pacey shook his head, turning towards the kitchen. “How easy it is to forget sometimes.”