Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Fuck off, Abe. I'm trying to put up my textbooks."

Joan threw her locker open, letting the metal door make a deafening clang as it smashed Abe square in the face.

The taller clone recoiled with a yelp. He held his nose as he moved around the door to stand on Joan's right side. He raised his non-nose-holding hand up in dismay.

"Joan, I just said 'Hope you have a nice weekend!' What's your deal, man?" Abe's voice turned up at the end, grating Joan's ears. He had worn down her patience for him long ago. Joan hoisted her bag around her shoulder, then shrugged and tossed it into her locker alongside her books. Finally a weekend with no homework.

A yellow note on the floor of the locker caught Joan's eye. She read it without bending down, the large print easy to read: "Basketball court hallway(black mold one), after classes?????? -JFK".

Joan grimaced. The past couple weeks have been a rough one with JFK. To make a long story short, they just aren't... working yet. JFK is annoying. And callous. And a moron. And can't get anything done during their tutoring sessions.

Joan had no idea why he bounced back to her after she broke things off with Abe, even after the train wreck of a post-prom fiasco.

He's horny and desperate. He's just rotating through all the "broads" on his fuck list.

Joan shoved the locker door shut. Guess she'd try to sneak past the gym on her way to the upperclassman lot. Last thing she wanted to do was end her week listening to JFK ramble about his day to her.

"Mhm, 'k thanks Abe."

Joan turned, expressionless and started her way down the crowded hall. She felt Abe stare her down from behind.

"I hope you know that Kennedy is using you Joan! Yeah I've seen the two of you together! Getting a bit desperate for that 'attention' you wanted so bad, huh!" Abe called after her, turning the eyes of passerbys at her. Joan walked faster, hating the pressure of their gaze. "We all know he's got you just like he used all those other girls! And just like he used Gandhi before prom too! Well, um, not in that way, but you know what I mean!"

Joan's facade was beginning to break down.

"It's okay Joan! No worries! I'll be here when you finally see the truth!" Abe affirmed to himself.

Joan stormed down the hall, her mind racing. She shoved her hands in her pockets. Maybe Abe was right.

JFK is using you. What else would he want from you? The end goal for him is, and will always be, sex. Anything that strokes his ego. Anything to satisfy his self-image.

She was so consumed in her thoughts that didn't even notice herself passing by the gym's darkened side hall until it was too late. Joan felt a large hand catch her arm and pull her behind the opaque 'CAUTION BLACK MOLD' curtain.

Two hands caught her shoulders as Joan careened into the small space. She blinked as she began to register what happened. A single dim fluorescent lit the empty hall. Plastic curtains covered all the walls, turning the lockers and ceiling into a blurry mess. In front of her, latched to her shoulders, was the last person she wanted to see.

"Really, Kennedy? The black mold hallway?" Joan flatly groaned at him.

"They're er uh finished fixing it, Betty. No need to be uh worryin' bout that." JFK smirked, gesturing his eyes up at the sparkling clean vents above them. He looked back down at her. Joan swapped her glare from one of his eyes to the other. "However, I er uh am not finished with y-"

"Cool. Thanks for the update about the mold problem. See ya," Joan backed out of his hold and started to turn on her heel to leave. His hand caught her arm again.

"Joanie," JFK's smug face loosened. "Joan, we uh need to chat. About us. Now."

Joan rolled his hand off her arm and turned to him. She crossed her arms and expectantly raised her brows. It was a nice day out and she wasn't about to spend it in a deceptively mold-free hallway.

"What's the deal."

"Joanie, I er uh appreciate what ya do for me, tutorin' me an' bein' there when I need ya. Yer great. And I er uh don't wanna seem like a demandin' chump... but uh why can't ya y'know... hold me back when I uh hold you," JFK turned his eyes to the ground, his brows lowered. Joan felt a twinge of guilt. "I've been feelin like a real idiot lately, hangin on to ya while yer bein' stiff an' all like a board. Like my effort's fer nothin'. Thought that's what ya liked. So uh what's the deal?"

Joan bit her lip. She was torn between Abe's probable truth about JFK and the festering feelings for JFK that she denied herself from embracing. Joan liked him a little. At least enough to keep him around. And by around she meant at an arm's length. She told herself she wasn't letting anyone else get closer than that ever again, no matter how much she liked them or how much the guilt would hurt.

"JFK," Joan started hesitantly, unsure how to explain her actions. "I'm kind of still dealing with Abe being a shithead. I mean, you saw how the breakup was," Joan clenched her jaw before she spoke again. "Um it's just... difficult for me to..." She gestured awkwardly forward with her arms, making a closing motion. She sighed, throwing her arms down and shrugged. "Whatever." She stared into the floor.

As of the past week, JFK had begun an odd habit of pausing and analyzing Joan when he wasn't sure how to respond to her. The lack of mindless chattering and impulsive flirting from him made her a little uneasy. He would stare at her and do nothing until his peanut brain assembled some response to her actions. The response would usually be inappropriate or just plain stupid. Joan could feel him doing it now. She braced for whatever he came up with this time.

He huffed.

Joan gasped. JFK was suddenly wrapping his arms around her, pulling her into him. His left hand spread onto the back of her left shoulder as his right slipped around her mid-back. Joan's chin became pressed into the right of his upper chest, her cheek brushing by the collar of JFK's polo.

Joan couldn't help but stand stiffly as she always had, resisting his pull by becoming a rigid statue. She straightened her neck, lifting her head off his chest to glare up over his shoulder into the corner of the dark hallway. Joan let out an irritated growl. If there were any passerbys, the two figures would appear to awkwardly contrast the shape of the other. JFK's time embracing her began to worryingly persist past what he would usually give her. They stood there for what felt like forever to Joan, the sound of her own heartbeat ringing through her ears.

"I'm er uh not letting go until you uh give some sugar back to me, Joanie," JFK teased. His accent was thick and soaked in flirtatious expectation. The smaller clone angrily rolled her eyes, refusing to surrender from her resistant position. Joan felt him lock his arms around her, his left hand reaching so far as to squeeze her left shoulder.

"...please?"

JFK's typical abrasive voice fell, becoming almost delicate and whispery. It sent a startling tingle down Joan's neck. His entire body moved further into her space, careful to hold her in balance. Joan clenched her fists as she felt the bitter cynicism from before rise inside of her.

Not a chance in hell he really wants to get close to you. There's no way.

It had to be out of pity-

Joan abruptly twisted her shoulders to wrench her arms forward.

Or boredom-

Joan braced her hands against JFK's broad chest and pushed.

Or empty lust-

Joan was able to put some inches between her body and his, straining against the opposing tension of his arms. She glared up to him, the new distance allowing them to get a look at each other. JFK's face was washed with genuine concern, his eyebrows slightly knitted. His eyes were analyzing her and they were lidded heavier than before, softening his gaze. Joan couldn't help but notice how well kept his brows were. His skin was visibly soft, with old acne scars and subtle freckles butterflied on his cheeks and dotting his nose. Joan's eyes unintentionally trailed down the bridge of his nose to his mouth. She could tell he was biting the inside of his lip. Even up close he was really pretty, but she'd never ever admit that to him. He was vain enough. Joan caught herself staring when her muscles started to tremble again. Her arms reluctantly dropped, surrendering the ground she fought for.

Or just from his general urge to be annoying.

"You're a tough ginchy gal, Joanie, but you've er uh gotta let me in" Jack had secured her back into place, his voice still rumbled low and gentle. His left hand passed her shoulder and instead stopped at the base of her neck. It pressed warmly against her exposed skin. Joan felt compelled to relax into his touch, but refused to lessen her inflexibility.

He's using you. He doesn't really care and you know it. He's a liar. Liar.

She felt a chuckle rise from his chest.

"And uh by let me in, I mean in more ways than one, if ya get what I'm sayin'!"

There it is.

The comforting tone Kennedy used before had devolved back into laughing through an audible smirk. Joan was fuming, relishing the thought of strangling JFK when she's actually physically able to bring her hands up to his neck. She had always made her opinion of JFK's innuendos outward. The jokes were intrusive and often came out of nowhere in inappropriate situations. How did he want people to react to them? Did he expect that panties would go flying? And then the whole room to applaud at his comedic genius?

Behind her outward actions, Joan really did have to admit that while the jokes were awful they really were kind of funny. Shoehorning sex jokes into completely unrelated conversations was the style of humor that was right up Joan's alley. But JFK had a reputation. A bad one that Joan refused to tolerate. He would be cruel towards her classmates, bullying, harassing and patronizing them. God, how could she forget how he used to be on a nearly misogynistic-level of possessive about Cleo(and yet somehow still manage to cheat on her like it was nothing). Giving any kind of encouragement to that kind of asshole wasn't in Joan's best interest. Last thing she wanted was to get used by another guy that only pretended to like her.

JFK was always so charismatic. It almost drove her mad seeing it wasted on a person like him. It took everything in her, everything she knew about him and his past shithead behavior, to not react to his jokes. She would be the only one in that room full of clapping and cheering(and probably pantyless) people to absolutely refuse to give him anything. No expression. No casual rating. Just vacant rejection every single time. And yet Jack still looks to her for approval.

But he's been someone different recently. A little bit more self aware. More willing to express himself. And she hates that she's been falling for it.

Joan wished she knew how to react to him now.

He's just a try-hard attention whore. You can't trust him. He's a liar. A fake.

Joan found that her chin had settled back against Jack's chest. She faintly shook out her head and let out a long defeated sigh into Jack's shoulder. Her own tight shoulders dropped and her clenched fists gradually uncoiled. She felt that Jack's head was turned toward her, once again trying to duct-tape together a conclusion from Joan's movement.

"O-kay"

Jack gave his typical stilted acknowledgement of failure. Joan could feel him take a shaky breath and shift his weight, causing her to follow along. His voice was soft again. "Joanie, I'm uh really not er uh great with this. It's uh it’s new to me too. I just..."

He paused to clear his throat. He swallowed hard.

"I just really want this to work." The last line was spoken with genuine longing, but it was almost inaudible like he was scared to admit it. He anxiously tensed up around her. Joan felt his fingers nervously start playing with the tips of her hair.

Don't believe him. He says this to every girl he's been with.

Joan felt the freezing shiver of aversion rush through her. She squeezed her eyes shut, stopping the awful sensation before it took her over. God, she wanted to rip the intrusive feeling out of herself so bad. Joan could feel angry tears beginning to well in her eyes. If I want to be loved again, then why can't I fucking seem to accept any love thrown my way!?

"I'd er uh like to not have Cleo 2.0, and I uh don't think ya wanna deal witha chump like Lincoln again," Joan nodded into him. She felt Jack's body slowly relax as he leaned his soft cheek onto her hair, fingers still playing with her ends. The sensation made her scalp tingle. "We've really gotta lotta work t'do, Joanie. And I uh don't think we can do this if we're both er uh having problems we uh refuse to fix."

He's trying to manipulate you. He's working you.

Joan nodded again. She has never heard him speak like this before. It threw her off. Was it really JFK speaking? She sighed, holding her breath as she slowly allowed herself to finally rest her head comfortably on his shoulder. He smelled woody, with a hint of something unidentifiable but familiar. It was pleasant. She always liked how well he took care of himself. His sweater was soft against her skin as she rested her cheek on him. She felt the hand in her hair pause and his head lift away from hers. She winced as she finally relaxed into him, her arms still limp at her sides as she leaned on him. Her fingers picked nervously at her cuticles. Who knew doing something you've wanted to do for so long would be so damn... difficult.

"Okay, Jack" Joan breathed into him, her voice barely a sound at all.

You didn't earn this. You don't deserve love.

The arm around her waist pulled them snugly into each other. Joan could now feel his heartbeat through his layered shirts. She found herself wanting to push herself deeper into his warmth. The thought danced around her head as Jack held her. Joan opted to just keep taking in his comforting scent, in and out, slow and steady.

JFK's breath wavered.

"Not gonna lie t'ya Joan, I uh kinda fucked myself over haha" Jack's laugh was sad and muted, unlike his natural proud cackle. His fingers were back at Joan's red hair, pinching and rolling her ends sensitively between his fingers as he slowly spoke. "Thinkin' I er uh had to be a perfect clone, whatever I uh thought that meant. I uh never let the real me uh choose, y'know... Not ta be a wet rag, but uh thinkin' back at everythin' I did, who I er uh was, I... sucked," There was a beat of silence as he gathered his thoughts. Joan tried to peer up at him to watch his expression, but he had turned his face just out of her view. "When I uh was with Cleo I was so... alone. All my time had to be uh spent with her. No buds ta cruise with 'nymore. Between Cleo 'n I, nothin' in common, uh we uh used each other as display trophies, it was full er uh bogus. Heh, ain't that a bite." Jack let his head lean on Joan's. "It's er uh my own fault really, but uh guess that's what comes back t'ya when ya act like such a brickhead." He traced shapes on her shoulder with his nail, raising goosebumps down Joan's back. "I er uh just wanna do better. Do me for once," His fingers tapped softly against her shoulder. "Ya know, maybe get it right with the betty I er uh got frozen bareass-naked next to on prom night, hm?" Joan couldn't help but grin, letting out a small nose laugh at him. She felt Jack squeeze her and sway gently, then rest his lips against her head. "I dunno, somethin' like that," he murmured.

Joan felt like she could fall asleep standing up and Jack's grip would keep her upright. The feeling of sharing his blanketing warmth in this chilly little abandoned hallway was really something else. Some of the achy cold lingered on her, but the only goosebumps on her skin came from the sensation of Jack's small breaths on her scalp. It was odd seeing him be this forward with stuff. She never thought JFK of all people would have the capacity for change.

If Jack could get himself to be this emotionally intimate around her, then Joan could hand him the meager pile of her shattered trust.

Trust is such a hard thing to build and such an easy thing to break for Joan. She and Abe had years and years of trust accumulated. They had been friends since childhood and those roots ran deep. Knowing every facet of a person can make you think you really know them. What makes them tick, what gets them excited to wake up, what irritates them, what catches their eye. Joan played on those assumptions for years. She was desperate for an ounce of attention from him. She would admit, while he wasn't obligated to return her feelings, he didn't have to be such an ignorant asshole to her and Gandhi. But time and time again, Abe screwed them over to prioritize Cleo. Valuing his own self gain over and over again.

But suddenly she had Abe. She was happy. The one she had been after for so long finally saw her.

But he failed to see her how she thought he would.

Joan soon found out that while they worked great as friends, her and Abe together romantically was a disaster. Abe broke too many promises and made too many mistakes. Crossed boundaries and failed to respect Joan when she demanded it. Didn't care to indulge in Joan's interests with her when she would try her best to learn about Abe's hobbies. While Joan gave him handmade gifts on holidays or just for surprise, he surprisingly wouldn't ever give any back. He didn't reciprocate the love she offered. And she excused it every time, seeing him through rose-colored lenses. He would always say it was because they already knew each other so well that Joan "just knew" that he was "ditto-ing on every gift".

The only times he displayed any actual true affection, physical or emotional, would be in an attempt to make up after they argued. Which Joan accepted eagerly. Then after that? Poof. Back to normalcy.

When she was with Abe, she was always alone.

So so alone.

So why was JFK always so adamant about being with her? Joan was so confused about JFK. He was something she wasn't accustomed to.

Jack had to be trying to apologize for something he did by holding her? Right? Why else would he be giving her affection?

Whenever Jack offered goodbye hugs she would awkwardly dodge him. She would panic when he would scoot up close to her, trying to be annoyingly needy. Hell, even holding hands felt like agony and she would end up ashamedly brushing him off of her. Joan hated the thoughts swarming her brain, yelling at her to pull away. She craved love so badly that she denied anyone the ability to do so. Joan built her walls up instead of accepting the trust that was so enthusiastically extended to her.

He was always doing things for her. With her. He insisted she tag along with him, even though she would reluctantly turn down his invitations, believing the anxieties swarming her head. JFK saw right through to her. It was impressive and surprising. He could read her so well.

He really "just knew."

Joan wanted to give Jack her trust so badly, no matter how broken hers might be. But despite how deeply she wanted to, it was a huge risk. Jack's past wasn't pretty and it definitely contributed to her distrust of him. But his recent sincerity and gentle persistence was enough to convince her that he may be worth it. Maybe it would be okay taking a risk.

She was going to let herself be unapologetically open again. To someone new. Something unknown. Someone willing to be there beside her in the dust and, together, delicately gather up all her little broken pieces.

Joan's thoughts were interrupted by a very blurry JFK holding her face in his hands. She blinked a couple times, suddenly feeling icy lines draw themselves down her cheeks.

"Joan?"

The Kennedy clone finally pulled into focus. His face was analyzing hers, perfect brows twisted unevenly and mouth a crooked line. God he always looked so goofy. They were still standing close together in the hallway. The air was still cold and quiet. Joan's arms were now crossed over her body as JFK bent down to match her eye level. Jack had broken his embrace to fix her now-tearful face. Joan's breath hitched from crying, making her chest shudder. Jack's thumbs brushed the tear lines from her reddened cheeks and softly grazed the edges of her lips. He grinned broadly, his eyes still concerned.

"Joanie, you were gushin' on my shoulder there. Look! Do any more of that n'my sweater's gonna be ruined!" JFK playfully accused her. He waggled the shoulder Joan's head was resting on just moments ago. She looked over. One spot near his polo collar was soaked into a deep red. Haha oops. Joan sniffed loudly, still clearing her eyes. "You uh okay Joanie? What's on in yer pretty mind?" Jack tilted his head at her, his animated reaction giving her butterflies.

Joan appreciated his hands caressing her cheeks. They were so warm and they fit around her face so perfectly. His fingers played at the sensitive hairline behind her ear, sending pleasant ripples of chills along her scalp. She could be held like this all day.

"I..."

A faint glint from Kennedy's front pocket caught Joan's eye.

She also appreciated that she was now free from JFK's anaconda-tight, Alcatraz-lockdown level of embrace.

"...I'm thinking about escaping," Joan bobbed down out of his grasp and snatched his car keys by the keyring that poked out of his front pocket. She flashed a shit-eating grin at the utterly bewildered JFK before booking it down the hall and out the emergency exit.

"Wh- JOAN?!" she heard his voice holler through the hall before the door slammed shut behind her.

Joan was blinded by the mid-afternoon sun, led forward only by the hazy lines painted on the pavement of the upperclassmen lot. She scanned for Jack's car through her squinted eyes, hearing only the stolen keys jingling in her grasp and the pounding of her boots on the concrete. A bright red flash caught her attention.

There it is. Joan broke into a smirk.

Her boots picked up pace, dashing toward JFK's '61 Corvette midway up the lot. Now the rhythmic crunch of her boots was accompanied by the even faster beat of another pair of shoes sprinting up behind her. Her breath rose into an exasperated giggle. Good thing Jack ran track.

She cleared the hood of the vintage Chevy and positioned herself on the opposite side of the car, still laughing while desperately trying to catch her breath, starting to see stars. JFK skidded to a halt, leaning over the open cabin of his convertible at her.

"Joanie, you've gotta give me those keys gal," he huffed, a tad winded, as he tried to look dead serious. His massive grin betrayed him. "I uh promise I'll never EVER be uh lil crybaby for ya ever again," JFK haughtily turned his nose up at her and closed his eyes, feigning disdain. He peeked at her out of the corner of his eye. Joan was still giggling and was still very much out of breath. She stumbled forward to grab the edge of JFK's bright crimson car to keep her balance. Joan clenched her eyes shut in an attempt to clear them from the blinding effects of the sunlight. Suddenly she felt the car under her hands shift. She whipped her head back up, eyes wide as she saw that JFK had broken out of his pose and slid around the front of the car when she wasn't looking. He dashed at her, prepared to football tackle the smaller clone.

Joan flattened herself against his car, preventing JFK from grabbing her. He tried reaching for her again as he passed, but Joan extended her foot under his step. JFK fell victim to his own momentum and went crashing into the grassy yard behind the lot.

Joan bounced on her toes, proudly standing over a defeated JFK. "I'm over here breakin' ankles, Jack, I'm at the top of my ga-" She paused.

Oh shit. I might've actually hurt him.

Joan squatted down next to Kennedy in the grass, sitting on her haunches. "Hey," she hissed at him. No response. He had one leg bent at the knee and the other laying straight, the heel of his shoe resting on the concrete. He was belly up and his chest was taking in long deep breaths. His arms were crossed over his face keeping Joan from telling if he was okay or not.

She scooted closer to his right shoulder. JFK's now-tousled hair further loosened in the slight breeze. His brunet locks peeked out from behind the arms smushing his face. Joan bit her lip and let out a preparatory breath. She warily reached out with her left hand, grazing his hair with her fingertips. It was surprisingly soft for the amount of gel she had assumed he put in it. She let her fingers slip into JFK's thick brown hair and placed her hand on his head. The stray strands tickled her wrist. She felt him push up into her hand ever so slightly.

"Hey Jack, are you okay." Joan asked again. JFK let out a low groan and covered his face tighter. "Well, because if you're dead, I guess I'll just have Scudworth clone you again. Maybe I'll ask him to give the New You better balance next time, hmm?" Joan watched JFK for any acknowledgement, the ends of her lips turning up in a playful smirk. "Or maybe instead give him a face a little less pretty than yours so I don't feel so bad about messing it up." She saw his chest contract as he started to laugh, the sound of it muffled by his arms. The tingling butterflies returned to her stomach. She patted his head and teasingly mussed his hair around before returning her hand to her left thigh, ready to stand back up. She was stopped by Jack's right hand reaching out to grab hers as they rested on her knees.

The removal of his arm revealed a coy grin on JFK's flushed face. A single heavy-lidded eye squinted out from under the cast shade of his left wrist. "Joanie, you er uh never fail to uh knock my socks off."

Joan stood up, still holding his fingertips. "Oh my, the corpse of President John F. Kennedy speaks!" she put on the most sarcastic shocked expression she could, fanning her face. She scoffed, sliding her hand down to his wrist and gripped his muscular forearm firmly. He gripped back. The feeling of his fingers pressed into the soft of her forearm was so nice. "Let's see if this dead man walks too." Joan pulled JFK to his feet with ease, standing him in front of her. It was obvious he was still lightheaded from the hard landing. The dizzy clone looked down at her smirking widely, body teetering, his hands attempting to balance his swaying body by hanging onto her upper arms.

"Heh heh... and uh by knock I mean knock a-and er uh by socks I mean uh- mmm-" Joan put her arms around his chest, catching him from falling over mid-awful pun. She supported him with her face pressed into his collar. She braced against his tipsy weight and waited for him to rebalance himself.

It took an awkward moment but JFK seemed to regain his composure, bringing a grass stained hand up to rub his temple. He jolted back into complete consciousness when he finished processing that Joan's arms were around him.

Joan yelped when JFK enthusiastically squeezed her back, lifting her off her feet. His arms held her so snugly against him that she was sure there was hardly any breathing room for either of them. Joan sighed and melted as he nuzzled his face down into her neck. She could feel his nose nudge at her and a massive smile spread across his lips. His breath tickled when it hit her skin, making her giggle. She tried tightening her own arms around him, not quite getting worthy-enough mileage across his broad chest. Unsatisfied, she shifted her arms up to circle around his neck. She held him as closely as she could; as closely as she had always wanted to hold someone. Burying her face affectionately in his neck, she breathed in his scent again, running her fingernails gently along the hairline on the side of his head.

She couldn't believe she had this.

JFK hummed into her, occasionally breaking into a low chuckle, then back to humming. The low tone resonated through Joan's body. Joan loved the feeling of him around her and her around him. She basked in it, the sun and Jack's arms warming her thoroughly. Joan smirked, laughing at herself. She hated when couples would do PDA like this, but she was willing to save that self-judgment for later.

She wanted to let herself have a little bit of that corny teen romance movie bullshit for once.

She pressed her lips into his neck, giving a tentative half-kiss, hoping he wouldn't notice her little show of appreciation as they held each other.

JFK set her down and they hesitantly pulled apart. Jack's left hand trailed down her right arm as they separated. It curled under her right hand and started playing with her fingers. Jeez his hands are huge. Joan hated leaving his space. They really fit so well together. She could tell by the way Jack was lingering on her hand that he felt the same.

A glint of sunlight reflected from the buffed paint of JFK's car onto their hands.

"Oh!" Joan pulled her hand away from his and dug into her pants pocket. She revealed a closed fist and held it out at him. "Here."

Jack instinctively flinched at first. He relaxed and opened his hand under hers. Joan still couldn't get over how much bigger his hands were compared to hers. She lowered her hand onto his palm and placed his keys.

"Aw yes!" Kennedy gasped. He picked them up with his other hand and held them up proudly.

Joan nodded, looking him up and down.

Then she curled her fist up, pulled back and socked him square on the shoulder.

JFK's mouth flew open in flabbergasted betrayal, his eyes dramatically wide. He brought his free hand to his shoulder to rub at the blooming tender spot under his sweater.

"Joan! W-what-"

"That," Joan teasingly emphasized, "was for literally holding me for ransom back in that hallway, you dick."

JFK looked unsure how to respond, upset that she suckerpunched his poor arm but also delighted that Joan was finally loosening up to him.

She moved forward to close the gap between them, causing JFK to reflexively try to inch back. Joan wrapped her hand down into his, holding him in place, and cupped her other hand behind his hurt arm. She leaned forward and gave the spot a quick peck. She let go of Jack, leaving him in confused shock. Joan hopped over the '61 Corvette's door and settled herself into the passenger seat.

"Hey, can dead people drive?" Joan turned to call back at JFK, slinging her left arm over the seat row. He stood there agape with a small grin, absentmindedly tapping at the spot with his fingers. Hearing her voice made his trademark smirk flash back onto his face.

He trotted up to the driver side door and hopped it just like Joan did, jamming the keys into the ignition. JFK sucked in excitedly through his teeth hearing the engine roar to life. Joan leaned her head onto her right hand as her elbow rested itself up on the passenger side door. She watched as JFK cranked up his music. He grabbed the gear shift and flirtatiously winked at Joan, making her roll her eyes with amusement.

Yeah maybe she was okay falling for this guy.

JFK paused before hitting the gas. He leaned his body over the center console to Joan. In a single motion he brushed her messy red hair out of the way and planted an eager kiss on her pale cheek. Joan could only sit there frozen, covering as much of her grinning face with one hand as she could, knowing her cheeks were blushing as deep as the paint on his car.

"Shut the fuck up, Kennedy." Joan giggled.

JFK let out a thrilled laugh, satisfied by Joan's sheepish reaction, as he settled back into his seat.

"Let's get a-rollin', Joanie!"

Chapter Text

Abe glared out over the roof of his car, watching intently as the red Chevy gunned it out of the student parking lot. He slumped down into the driver’s seat and gripped the steering wheel, digging his nails in.

His ex was in that car with his arch enemy. Abe hated seeing him snatch her up. He would snoop on Joan whenever she would meet up with that blasted egghead, JFK. 

Out of concern for Joan, of course.

It had been nearly 4 months since he and Joan broke up. Joan started off perfect. She was always enthusiastically at his side. He felt like he was the center of the universe whenever she was around. But she gradually began to do less and less for Abe. She got gloomy and frustrated which forced him to compliantly bend to her needs. All Abe wanted was something that he could finally take all the way, not some high maintenance mess that required more steps for assembly. He and Joan had been friends for ages. They knew each other so well that it was meant to be… or at least that’s what Abe thought would be. The breakup came out of nowhere. Joan met him at the end of his driveway and tearfully chewed him out for denying her what she claimed to “need out of a relationship” and for “ignoring everything about me” and for “not wanting to actually give a shit about how a relationship is supposed to be a two-way street”. He was pretty sure the whole neighborhood heard Joan’s venomous sobbing. What really stung was when she spitefully hissed “Maybe Kennedy really was right about you.” and stormed to her car, never turning back to hear what protests Abe had about JFK.

Abe was certain through and through that JFK only swooped in about a month ago to try and snatch up Joan only because she was lonely and miserable after losing Abe. Both him and Gandhi were wary of JFK post-prom. JFK was not to be trusted after making a bet to get the “doomed” Gandhi a prom date. Abe couldn’t believe that JFK could do that: degrading Gandhi for laughs and then be totally remorseless afterwards. 

Well, no, actually. He could believe that. And he deduced that JFK was about to exploit Joan once again.

Kennedy was trying to worm his way into getting her to sleep with him by faking a gag-worthy, sappy personality to reel her in. Again. And Abe knew JFK was thrilled about cucking his fellow presidential clone. Again. 

The egotistical douchebag had to break the act at some point. Abe couldn’t understand why Joan never heeded his warnings.

Because that day, Abe witnessed firsthand how slimy and misleading JFK was to Joan from clear across the parking lot.

Abe ran his hands through his hair and rested them at the top of his head. He clenched his eyes shut to ruminate on what he perceived. 

…Joan running from JFK… even daring to slide across the hood of his stupid covertible to put distance between him and her…JFK surprisingly doesn’t freak out about Joan touching his car…probably canning it to keep her latched onto him…

…Joan obviously out of breath from running… JFK does that asshole move that he does when he doesn’t care about something…

…JFK lunging for Joan… but Joan being accustomed to Kennedy’s nonsense so she dodges and trips him… he goes toppling down…darn and out of sight…

Abe remembered grinning seeing JFK flail. Joan never failed to knock Kennedy’s head off.

…I can see them again…JFK looks terrible...Joan’s totally telling that douchebag off for that dumb move…

He remembered going into shock when Joan put her arms around JFK. N-no. He really did it. The girl he thought was so smart was now stuck deep in JFK’s web of deceit. 

Abe remembered the anger that swelled inside when JFK aggressively hugged her back, igniting an envious fury he didn’t know existed in him. 

…JFK totally played the pity card to make Joan feel guilty… he’s giving her exactly what she demanded out of me… all that attention… and it worked like a charm… and now he’s going to stay locked around her for however long Joan needs to accept his apology…

…JFK is gutting Joan soon… He actually got her to fall into his plan… 

Abe recalled Joan hopping in JFK’s car with him, the glare on the windshield veiling the two clones. As JFK whirled out of the parking lot, Abe could see Joan’s hand covering her face. 

Maybe she knows that she feels conflicted about JFK . Deep down, she knows that she shouldn’t be seen with him. That’s gotta be what’s going on in her head. Maybe her clone mother should have a chat with her clone daughter because obviously someone is lacking in intuition and critical thinking skills.

Someone needs to get Joan to realize what JFK is doing. And also tell her to stop reducing herself into whore whenever she feels lonely.

Abe opened his eyes and scoffed, tutting to himself. He turned the ignition(it took a couple tries) and puttered out of the parking lot. His fingers drummed the steering wheel as he traveled home. He wanted Joan back. He wanted JFK away from her. He knew what JFK was up to, he just had to reveal JFK’s ugly side to Joan. His mind raced as the solutions to his problems began to manifest in his head.

If no one else has the will to prove to Joan that JFK is a manipulative villain, then I sure will.

Chapter Text

The locker squeaked open, finally responding to the numbers Joan’s shaking hands had offered it. She’d never been so nervous about anything in her life.

No, not nervous about opening lockers. Obviously.

Joan and JFK were official. She was thrilled about that. But they were finally going public with their relationship. She was not so thrilled about that.

Joan squatted down and righted her backpack, starting to fill it with the ridiculously massive textbooks she would need for class. Fuck, why oh why did she have to take the “Intricate Studies on Large Books Published in Even Larger Books 101” class?

She groaned and crossed her arms over her knees, palming her newly pounding temples.

What would people think about JFK being with her? How was she going to handle all the new attention?

God she already knew how much Abe despised the idea of her and JFK just hanging out and she could barely handle that. His opinion shouldn’t matter to her anymore after everything that happened. But as much as she hated to admit it… she still cared about how Abe saw her.

“Joan!”

A hissed whisper snapped Joan out of her thoughts.

She shot to her feet, whipping her head around expecting to see someone at the row of lockers behind her.

The long hallway was completely empty.

Joan shook her head out, trying to ease her nerves.

“God I really need to get more slee-” A deafening clang rang out as something slammed against the lockers next to Joan’s. The door to her locker pulled back, revealing the grinning culprit leaning flirtatiously against the wall.

“Mornin’ Jo”

“Ugh JFK” Joan rolled her eyes at him, letting out a breath of relief when she saw his unmistakable silhouette.

“Miss me much?” JFK quipped, fluttering his eyelashes at her.

“Yeah yeah, a little I think” Joan murmured.

She smirked and squatted back down, missing JFK’s face turning red from her reaction.

Joan finished jamming everything into her backpack as her locker shut closed and steadily stood back up, brushing her fringe out of her eyes to look up at him. JFK was as well groomed as always, hair fluffed and collar pressed. And of course he was just oozing the infectious charisma that people couldn’t resist. Joan almost hated the fact that she had fallen for it too, just like (ugh) all the other girls.

Maybe… maybe being like ‘all the other girls’ in this case was okay.

“So uh whatcha think about us smoochin at th’ janitor’s closet? But uh outside of it now that we’ve got this thing on a roll heheh” JFK leaned his torso toward Joan.

JFK might as well have been a deer in headlights as Joan faced him, her hands nervously gripping her arms.

“JFK, listen” Joan bit her lip. “Being… together, like officially, is kinda, um…”

JFK cocked his head as she paused.

“...it’s just a little scary to me y’know. It’s a lot of pressure-”

“Jo! Don’t worry about it! Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out.” JFK grinned. “Together”

JFK’s eyes softened, momentarily transforming his flirtatious smirk into a reassuring one. JFK offered his arm out to her. Joan let out a pressured breath and took it, pulling herself carefully beside him.

“Okay. Yeah no you’re totally right. It’ll be okay. We’ll just take it as it comes, y’know”

JFK looped his free fingers into her backpack straps and smoothly hauled Joan’s overstuffed pack onto his shoulders. He glanced down at her, nudging her with his elbow as they started walking.

“Take it as it comes, huh?”

“God shut UP, Jack!”

-

“Dinger!”

Abe ripped his squinted gaze from the locker door’s slatted vents as Joan and JFK sauntered away together. He started violently jiggling at the inner lock mechanism. It refused to budge.

Abe couldn’t believe this morning had gotten worse than it had started. First he had planned on spying on Joan from his locker as she arrived at school that morning but had instead gotten himself trapped inside. And now Joan and JFK we’re basically skipping down the hall arm in arm. Abe was pissed. Well, more like in denial about his defeat.

Luck was NEVER on his side. No one was ever on his side.

Abe just wanted Joan to see what he could. If only she had turned around sooner when he had whispered at her. Then maybe JFK wouldn’t have had the chance to steal her away again.

Abe defeatedly let his forehead rest against the locker door, slumping in his dark, sharpie-doodled, gum-blob-riddled tomb. He looked down at his awkwardly positioned feet.

What’s the point, Abe. Guess I’ll just die here.

The sound of a spinning lock brought Abe back to the plane of the living. All the sudden, he was on the ground, blinded by buzzing fluorescents. Two blurry ethereal silhouettes swirled in his vision.

“...Jesus?” he croaked weakly, looking hopefully upwards. “Is that… you…?”

“Ugh what a waste,” A pretentious sounding voice scoffed. “It’s just Abraham Lincoln, you idiot! You told me we would catch you-know-who nailing you-know-who in this hall! Ugh I got up early for NOTHING.”

The figures above Abe pulled into focus. Catherine the Great and Julius Caesar stood over him with their phones out and at the ready, analyzing him like a disgusting twisted up bug on a microscope slide. Catherine turned her nose up at him and gestured to Caesar.

“What a disappointment.”

Catherine shoved her phone back in her purse and strutted away. Caesar followed close behind.

Abe blinked, sitting upright as they walked away.

“Let’s look in the library. I found JFK’s- I mean- you-know-who’s ID in a BOOK. That meathead doesn’t read. So you-know-who is obviously getting him into stuff he doesn’t know is bad for him!”

“Gasp! No!”

Abe leapt to his feet. They’re looking for Joan and JFK too.

He wasn’t alone. He scrambled after Catherine and Caesar.

“Hey guys wait!”

Perhaps a mutual alliance against JFK could finally turn his luck.

Chapter Text

It's been a while, how are you all

I never ended up finishing this fic. The new series was.. a killjoy :/

However, I did write quite a bit of this fic before the new series came out which means I have a TON of unedited work rotting away. And I feel terrible letting my work be unseen, so I will post what I have and leave it at that.

I hope you all enjoy :)) <3

Chapter Text

[This chapter had the least editing completed. The rest are much better, I promise]

Joan n JFK tutor sesh in library with a few other students
Ceasar and Catherine roll up casual and cool to JFK and banter and chatter to him
Whisper to him and his face tenses
They look at him excitedly like they’re expecting something or some kind of reaction from JFK
Joan watches while packing her bag, not wanting to barge into the convo but still straining to hear it
JFK fumbles with his words before spilling out that he can’t. He’s got other things to do and by do I mean uh not… that. Sorry
Ceasar and Catherine glance at each other then squint down at JFK then at Joan squished next to him
(dont introduce any tension yet)
-are you two… actually together? Joan you were totally cute with Abe though. Why the big fall from grace? Catherine batted her eyes at Joan
-at fall from grace in her peripheral saw JFKs hands curl into fists under the table
-it’s Tuesday Catherine it’s when I have my tutoring sessions. If you don’t need help with your tanking grades then you can leave
-ugh woah Joan of Arc no need for the tone! I was just confused. Hm. Anyway Julius and I were blowing this popsicle stand to head over to his place for a party! JFK already made up his mind about where his loyalties lie but you can come if you clean that up. She gestured to Joan’s entire self. See ya!
-what was that about. Dunno. JFK had moved away from her and started to pack his things
-did u not want to go to the party? N-yeah not really. It’s uh weekday. Weird. JFK fuck it we can go! Maybe it’ll be fun to mix things up.
-Who am I talking to right now?? Joan wanting to party on a weekday?? I’m full of surprises Kennedy.
-JFK looked around them cautiously before pulling Joan into a hug. He loves dating Joan so why did he feel so affected by Julius and Catherine, his friends, seeing him with her. The growing anxiety fell away when Joan hugged him back, one arm over his shoulder and the other bent around his back. He was so glad she trusted him. He let his cheek fall against her head. It still made his heart rush and his legs wobbly when she accepted his touch or laughed at his jokes or helped him with sin cos tan whatever that means.

Chapter Text

[I wanted to do a minor overhaul on the events in one, but just didn't have the energy]

They go to party
Kinda hang separately for a bit with their different friend groups

JFK gets pulled back into his typical partying swing with his friends
Getting loud and rambunctious

Girls attempt to get up near him but he continues to inch away. They tease at him, grabbing his arms and shirt collar “Ugh JFK stop playing hard to get. You promised I’d get a chance. And I really want t-“ Jack grabbed her hands off his collar buttons and nervously laughed, avoiding the girls hungry eyes. She waited for him to say something, an innuendo, an invitation. Kennedy looked around at everyone in the kitchen watching him.

“Er uh no thanks heh heh” he squeaked out.

“Are you serious?” The girl folded her arms haughtily. “Ugh. How long until you’re available then?”

Being with Joan really made him realize how many people only saw him as a prop. A piece of meat. Something to use and throw back up in the cabinet for later. He didn’t mind it back then but now it’s crazy. In the library Julius had invited him to the party, reminding him of all the broads he had promised to get with. But that promise was made literal decades ago. As much as it pained him, JFK hadn’t got with anyone since the unfreezing. He suddenly felt feelings for Joan and Joan only. And his friends had no idea.

JFK could never commit to someone right? JFKs a sex machine to anything that moves right?

In their eyes, seeing him through the projected legacy of his clone father, that’s exactly what they thought. JFK knew that people viewed him as a sex object. And he used to be fine with that. But now he knew what his image was confined to within his friend group and he couldn’t break free of it.

Ins “I’m with-“ “Who? Joan? I thought that was a joke. Either way JFK that’s lame. See ya!” The girl spat.

“I er uh dunno. But not uh tonight. Or anytime soon. I’m uh.. thinkin bout somethin else” He pawed the girl away. She sighed exasperatedly and strutted away to the clone of Rasputin, twirling her hair and pointing her judgemental eyes at JFK. He watched as they laughed and ran off into a bedroom together.

He sighed in relief when he saw Cesar and Catherine walk in. Maybe they’d entertain better than he did.

JFK paused mid-wave, suddenly feeling a pressure build inside of him, filling his mind with dread and setting off his internal alarm bells. He quickly swallowed it with a sip of his drink. .

They’re just your friends. Chill out.

Julius and Catherine banter with him and then bring up Joan. Starts innocent enough. JFK rolls with it bc they’re his friends.
Teasing. Start making pointed remarks.
JFK doesn’t catch that they’re being cruel/serious until Catherine cracks(snicker at him, Cesar cracks too).

“Wait yer uh being for real?”

“Yes. We are. And are YOU being for real? Joan? Of all the girls you could pull in this entire school, JOAN OF ARC??”

The room plummets to silence, catching Cesar’s exclamation and turning to watch the confrontation.

JFK looks betrayed, staring at Cesar.

“I uh thought you an Joan were cool?”

“Yes in a fellow classmate way.” Cesar swirled his drink “Her personality’s a bit out there but at least she takes charge of group projects.” Catherine nodded in agreement.

“You really don’t go out and get it like you used to JFK. Ever since you got with Joan at prom, you’ve been losing your Kennedy Sense. That touch.” JFK winced at Catherine bringing up his clone father. She slid closer to him, but still spoke loud enough for the room to hear. “I don’t want to stereotype a Catholic but… Joan isn’t making you… a prude is she?”

JFK’s eyes flew open wide.
Everyone starts hushedly asking questions in disbelief
“JFK is abstaining?!? How is he not dead?!?” “Are you REALLY with Joan.” “Cmon are you serious?” “How in Hades did she pull you?!?” “Did she place some curse on you or something”

JFK keeps getting interrupted by their assumptions as he tries to explain.
“No I uh-“ “you’re her rebound after Abe?!? What a fall from grace!”
“No? No. She just kinda-“ “She wants you for herself?!?”
“NO sto-“ “Joan’s making you CELIBATE TO EVERYONE BUT HER?!?”

JFK stood pressed against the counter bewildered as they stared him down. They knew he was cracking and they kept digging their nails into the fissures, just to joyously watch his reaction. His heart started racing.

Should i… lie? Maybe laugh it off? Am I going to lose my friend group because I won’t fuck anyone anymore? Because I’m dating Joan?!?

You need to tell them off. Tell ‘em you’re with her and they can’t hold ya back from ‘er.

But I cant… I cant sacrifice my reputation…

You already sacrificed your reputation by turning those girls down in front of everyone! Keep goin with it! We don’t wanna lose Joan!

But I don’t want to lose another friend group… again…

They aren’t your friends if they say this stuff bout Joanie. She doesn’t deserve that.

I dunno what to do.

Stand up for yourself! Stand up for Joan! Simple as that ya brickhead!

I-I dunno…

JFK swallowed hard.

“I-“

At that second another sound filled the air. Joan had appeared in the kitchen, refilling her drink. Everyone turned and locked their eyes on her. The mob parted to expose a direct line from JFK to Joan. Joan hard stopped in her tracks and her eyes darted around at her new audience. Her eyes found Kennedy bent in an uncomfortable position and sweating his ass off. His face was blank.

“…Whaaats going on, you guys…”

Julius and Catherine smirked. They turned back to JFK and leaned onto the counter right next to him getting in his face to increase the pressure. “So Kennedy, are you really dating Joan?” Catherine loudly interrogated. ‘Joan’ was spoken with venom and disgust.

Kennedy looked around him at the friend group surrounding him. The air was suffocating. His mind raced. He heard the girls from before whispering and snickering at him again.

He was stuck.

Joan stood shackled in place by all the eyes swapping between her and Jack. She looked at him confusedly, her eyebrows quirking to a point and her mouth twisting.

Everyone waited heavily on his reply. But none came.

Julius shoved JFK’s shoulder dismissively then turned to Joan.

“Are you dating JFK?”

“Wha- yeah. Yeah we’re… we’re together.”

Ceasar smirked “Or are you trying t’get down and dirty with a big name and use him to fu-“

JFK shoved Cesar off him. Cesar laughed nervously as Jack clenched his fists, looming over him

“I’m JOKING JFK. It’s a JOKE.”

Ceasar chided. Jack shot him a contemptful look and begrudgingly backed down, moving toward Joan.

Jack wrapped his fingers around Joan’s stiff hand. A reverberating gasp rolled through the crowd. The group of girls from before slapped their hands over the mouths and started hissing and chattering amongst each other.

“Yeah we’re together. Don’t uh don’t get it twisted.” Jack growled, his eyes angled to avoid their stares.

He gently nudged Joan out of the kitchen before they threw any more accusations at her.

“Jack what was that all about”

“They were uh just getting cocky and showin off their broads” he lied. They stopped in the hallway corridor. Jack faced Joan. “Didnt know they’d be so miffed bout me n you bein together” he sighed, telling himself it’d be okay to tell one lie and one truth.

“Oh.” Joan’s expression fell. She folded her arm over herself, rolling her sleeve between her fingers. “Man…”

They stood facing each other in silence, with the muted music pumping through the house being the only sound in the air. Joan looked down into her drink. Why did she make him come to this party? He was obviously made uncomfortable by Julius and Catherine in the library. Maybe she had just hoped to earn social points for herself by going.

She shouldn’t care about getting approval from people like them.

“They sound pleasant,” Joan scoffed. JFK echoed her scoff as she sipped at her refilled cup. “Jesus, what did you do, tell them I was some evil witch or something?”

“No but uh someone suggested you were one for uh somehow scoring this” JFK gestured flirtatiously to himself, moving his hands from his shoulders to his waist.

Joan looked him up and down, pursing her lips in thought. “Well since they think I’m some evil witch, you can tell them-” she swirled her drink and downed it. Joan slapped a hand on his shoulder. “-they’ll have to burn me alive to break the curse I’ve put on you” Joan melodramatically joked.

They laughed in the corridor together, settling into a comfortable silence. Joan felt her fingers involuntarily twitch on his shoulder. Her gaze broke from his grinning eyes to flick down to Jack’s chest, staring at the spot where she had fit before.

JFK watched her, knowing what she wanted. He intended to let her make the move this time.

Joan started to lean herself towards him. She froze as figures at the other end of the hallway behind Jack appeared. They did a double take as they moved past the hall where the pair stood. They were just out of earshot, but Joan’s heart started to pound as she gauged their reactions. Their eyes flew wide as they glanced over, recognizing JFK and Joan. The surprise morphed into hilarity as they snidely pointed out the two mismatched clones to their friends.

JFK and Joan were together? How ridiculous of them.

Joan swallowed hard as the group of guys pilfered back into the kitchen, snorting as they held back their mocking laughter.

She quickly pulled her hand back from Jack’s shoulder, tensely standing back in place. She started to pick at her cuticles. Her eyes flicked behind Jack again, checking for any more nosy stragglers drawing attention to them. Seeing none, she moved her troubled gaze hesitantly back to the clone in front of her.

Jack had his head slightly tilted, looking at her with fretting eyes and upturned brows. He worriedly bit at his lip.

Dammit. Sorry Jack. You didn’t do anything wrong. I just… whatever.

“I-I um didn’t want them to um-“ Joan stammered, scrunching her eyes shut as a wave of anxiety hit. She hated unwelcome eyes being on her… saying things about her. She hated that some dipshits gawking at them was enough to break her from Jack.

Jack, who was trying so patiently to get her to be more comfortable with him.

And she was getting so close to feeling that way.

But the attention that stalked JFK had turned to look at Joan as well.

She picked at a painful hangnail.

Well long as there’s no one out there to see…

“…Nevermind. You um you ready to get the hell out of this shithole?” She held out her hand to him, offering to lead them out. Joan sighed with relief as she saw Jack’s eyes light up. He wrapped his hand gently into hers, earning Joan an encouraging squeeze. Her tense shoulders relaxed. She squeezed his hand back.

“I’m uh gonna grab a quick water to go. Be right back Jo.”

JFK let go of her hand before she could protest and slid into the packed kitchen, past the crowd and right up into Ceasars face. Ceasar didn’t turn to acknowledge the seething clone towering above him.

“So JFK ill see you tomorrow night at the Brönte’s?”

“You er uh won’t be seein shit. Don’t you or uh any ‘f yer parasitic fuckwads ever talk to Joan er me again ya hear.” JFK glowered down at him. Ceasar didn’t give any reaction and sipped from his cup. JFK flipped around and started pushing his way back through the crowd.

“Are you really going to be forfeiting 7 minutes of heaven with all three of the Brontë sisters? Man” Caesars laugh was cruel. “Oh wow, your little Joanie has to be one hell of a ride if you’re giving all THAT up. If I’d known that, I would’ve been the one to fuck her at prom.” JFKs friends erupted in mocking laughter.

JFK snapped.

Blood splattered on the counter as Jack’s fist cracked into Ceasars nose. The crowd reeled and yelled in shock. The Roman clone attempted to swing back, but JFK easily caught his arms. He kicked him in the stomach, slamming his back against the counter and sending cups and bottles of booze toppling over. JFK’s hand locked around a fistful of Ceasars shirt as he raised his pointed knuckles to make one last shot to the face.

He almost laughed out loud, watching the blood gush from Ceasars nose and seeing the fear in his eyes.

He deserved more than a bloody nose for what he just said.

JFK reeled his fist back and-

“JACK! STOP!”

He scrambled to a halt, straining against his fists’ momentum at the sound of Joan’s voice calling out.

Jack straightened, dropping his fist and turning his head to make eye contact with Joan who was frozen in the kitchen entry. She turned as white as a sheet as everyone turned to stare at her.

Her eyes screamed at him. WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?

JFK’s brows scrunched in confusion at her.

Huh? Ya don’t want me t-

Ceasar gurgled out a laugh, drawing JFK’s attention back down to him.

“Aw she calls you Jack”. The mob surrounding them cackled. Ceasar stuck out his blood soaked lip at JFK and batted his eyes. “How cuuute”. He easily shoved JFK off of him, his shirt slipping out of Kennedy’s hands without resistance.

He wiped his nose, leaving a trail of bright red on the back of his hand, his eyes meeting grimly with Jack’s.

“Looks like your easy is giving you an easy way out” he leaned closer in towards Kennedy and intimidatingly glowered up at him “I’d take that out if I were you, Jack”. Caesar sneered vilely as he said his nickname.

“Don’t call me Jack” JFK spit at his feet and turned, shaking and red with fury. He could feel the pinprick of everyone’s eyes on him as he stormed out. Joan hid behind Jack as she led him out of the kitchen.

He seethed. His breaths were long and heavy. His jaw clenched and unclenched. His fists were locked tight. Jack felt heat build up through his chest and flicker up his spine.

Everyone suddenly turned against Joan. Why did they hate her. Why are they saying the things they are. The fire blazed hotter in Jack’s chest as his head swam with angry wishes.

Joan slid her hand down around his wrist. Her brow was knotted and her eyes darted around, scanning for anyone that had followed them out of the kitchen.

“Hey. Cmon. Let’s just leave-”

“NO! No! What? Er uh leave when they’re gangin up on us outta th’ blue? It’s messed up! Ive gotta…“ JFK’s yell dropped as he noticed Joan uneasily shrink away from him. Her grip loosened on his wrist. Shit. He tried to shake out his head. “But-but he was- Joan they’ve-“ JFK pointed his rage filled eyes in the direction of the bright kitchen full of former friends. The people he trusted were now enemies to him. Traitors. They flipped on a dime just because Jack was trying to change. He wanted so desperately to be happy.

And Joan made him happy.

And they were… disgusted by that idea.

“Joanie they’re….. ” he felt his anger unravel into heartbreak. The burning inside him fizzled out as he shakily exhaled. His posture wearily slumped and his fists unfurled. Joan slipped one hand into his and wrapped the other around his slack arm, pulling them closer to her. She tilted her head down, peering at Jack’s blank face.

“Hey. They’re just trying to get a rise out of you. Can’t you see that? They want you to be angry.” JFK cracked his eyes open and stared at Joan’s boots as she murmured to him. “Just ignore them… and… “ Joan brushed her thumb over his. “…they’ll ignore you. Us.” She shrugged.

JFK gave a weak nod, reflexively mirroring her shrug. Joan guided him back toward the open front door.

He enveloped his hand around Joan’s, grateful for her touch. Maybe she’s right. They do just want a reaction. So maybe her advice will work. He was willing to try for her.

But it was all still fucked up. He didn’t feel right just letting them say that stuff about his gal. JFK decided to keep the remaining knot of anger coiled tightly inside of him, like a spring under pressure.

“Er uh I’ll get em someday…” he growled, bumping past someone showing up to the party late. Lame ass was carrying a computer. Whatever.

“Jesus I can't take you anywhere Jack”

Chapter Text

“What th- where did that come from?!? Did you STEAL that?”

Joan pulls an entire ornately painted Greek red figure amphora out of the crook of her arm. She proudly admires all the hand-painted features in the street lights as they pass under them.

“Well it WAS formerly Ceasar’s vase…”

JFK stared in bewilderment.

“What, Kennedy. I did what I had to. It was a shitty party.”

“You er uh steal stuff from peoples house parties when they’re shit.”

“Yeah. Duh. I need a refund for the time I wasted watching people grind on each other and vomit up cheap beer.”

“Ya mean y’dont wanna do any of that?” Jack teased.

Joan glared dryly at him.

“Er uh no keg stands, no shots, no uh getting tinnitus from th’ music, no grinding-”

“Kennedy, I'm gonna grind your face into the concrete if you keep going.”

A testy smirk stretched across his face.

“No smashing…”

Joan tucked the amphora under her arm again and cracked her knuckles. JFK’s eyes flew wide.

“…uh…uh… bottles ova chumps heads when they er uh piss you off..?”

Joan paused mid crack to tilt her head and roll the idea around. She rolled her eyes and resumed carefully scratching at a gunky spot on the vase with her nail.

“That last part was tempting but nah. I’ll stick to my bit.”

They walked together in silence under the open night sky. Kennedys hand would occasionally brush Joan’s thigh as they walked closely side by side. The early autumn night air was chilly. JFK shivered. Joan paused her examination of the vase to glance at his hand. She looped her arm around his, causing them to bump together, and continued examining her steal. Her signature warmth radiated into his sweater. Jack felt his cheeks go pink.

A distant memory blipped into his mind.

“You uh… ya didn’t steal anything from my house party, right?”

Joan squinted her eyes and pursed her lips.

“Th’ one with th’ non alcoholic beer that chowderhead Lincoln brough-” Joan exploded into a riotous cackle. JFK jumped at the sudden exclamation.

Joan snorted.

“Oh absolutely I did.” She boasted, snapping back into her nonchalant self.

“WHAT?!??”

“Yeah that was an awful party, are you serious? Of course I stole something.”

“What did you steal???!?”

Joan snickered under her breath, holding the vase to her stomach and hanging her head shrewdly. JFK teasingly elbowed her and bumped her until Joan brought her head back up. She flipped her short red hair back and smirked up at JFK. He raised his eyebrows apprehensively at her.

“M’kay let’s say I MAY HAVE broken into your home studio and stolen one of your microphones.”

JFK’s jaw dropped.

“My- Joan what the fuck? That’s where that went?!? That was you?!” Kennedy accused her through an incredulous laugh. “Er uh I looked for that thing for months! What’s your damage, Jo?!”

“Nothing personal. Just business.” Joan was back at buffing the vase with her shirt sleeve, trying to curtain her hair over her stupid grin. “It was a really good mic by the way. Used it to record the audio track on that disaster of a film fest film I filmed.”

“Joanie!”

“Hey! You agree to that unspoken contract once you invite me to any social outing.” Joan remarked. She blew lint off the vase. “If it’s a bad time, I steal something to, one, satisfy me and, two, inconvenience the dipshit host I stole from.”

JFK, mildly offended, bumped her again. Joan snorted.

“Sooo where MY trophy vase, Jo. Yer tellin me ya didn’t think about poor ol Jackie Boy ova here and his lack of vases after that uh whole kerfuffle” Jack stuck his bottom lip out at her pitifully.

Joan scoffed. “Pft youre a strong independent man. You had your chance to nab something from Ceasar.”

JFK scoffed back.

“Yer tellin me I wasn’t allowed to finish beating the shit outta that tripe fer actually vile talkin bout ya and yet ya go ‘n steal a vase?”

Joan cleared her throat. “It’s a discrete, nonviolent crime.”

“Pft yeah Joan choosin’ th’ nonviolent option uh huh righto.” JFK grumbled.

Joan playfully shoved him, but harder, forcing him to take the brunt of her body weight. The sudden clash made JFK stumble a step to the left.

He righted himself and shoved her back. Joan staggered, reeling out of balance despite bracing for JFK’s impact. Jack quickly reached out to secure his arm around hers again. He pulled her back towards him, keeping her from careening off the curb.

He inconspicuously glanced over at her, making sure her precious contraband was still intact in her arms. The vase was securely in place. Good.

He cleared his throat and scoffed with faux scorn, a cocky grimace slapped on his face.

“Yeah well I er uh think I'M the one who deserved ta get even MORE violent tonight. If ya woulda joined in, we coulda double-teamed it an’ we coulda destroyed him and by that I mean we coulda taken that uh vase an’ shoved it up Ceasars a-”

“Listen!!! Listen. You’re just jealous you don’t have a cool vase man!” Joan stuck her tongue out at JFK as they strode up the cracked walkway to the Smith’s residence. Kennedy shook his head, trying to hide his beaming admiration under a disapproving guise. Joan pulled the house keys from her pocket, unhooking her arm from Jack’s. Joan slipped the key into the bolt lock, attempting to get the old mechanism to pop the door open. The porch light illuminated JFK as he leaned against the door frame, cradling Joan’s coveted vase.

“So uh little miss party gal, ya gonna add this ta some extensive trophy wall of stolen property you’ve got or somethin’.”

The door finally jostled open.

“Nah.” Joan squeezed his hand and bumped his shoulder affectionately once more before taking the vase from him. She stepped inside the lit entryway. Jack grins, watching as Joan proudly admires the vase in her grip. She snickered mischievously.

“Mm. I’ll have you know that this is only the second addition to my Shitty Party collection. It’s gonna go on the corner of my desk with your micr-” Joan paused to reconsider, “-ahem sorry, MY very nice and very prized microphone.”

Joan winked slyly at him and closed the door as JFK gawked upon processing what she said.

Two shitty parties??? And one of them was his?? JFK was stunned.

The door cracked back open, revealing Joan’s darkened silhouette in the sliver of warm light. She peeked out at the aghast Kennedy through her heavy lids. A sincere smile warmed on her face.

“…Goodnight Jack”

The bolt slid in place.

The cool light from the moon soaked over JFK. The air was cool and quiet. Somewhere nearby, a katydid chirruped brightly amongst the countless crowds of crickets.

Jack shook his head again, his appalled expression evolving into an enamored smirk.

God, he loved it when she called him Jack instead of John or JFK. It felt… better.

He ran his hands through his thick hair as he started back down the sidewalk, readjusting his collar and sleeves as his hands traveled down his body. They slid to a stop in his pockets. He grinned widely up into the clear night sky.

That’s my betty. That’s my knockout betty. Stealin’ my microphone n’ stealin’ my heart, all in that one night. He chuckled. God what a stupid dumb lucky guy I am.

Jack strolled back home through the cool night with Joan on his mind and without a worry in the world.

Chapter Text

[This one is also reaaaally rough. Tbh I just wanted to skip straight to the juicy action. Can you tell]

lecture abt clone parents,

JFK late, Joan dying from boredom,

JFK finally arrives to dark classroom thru window, slides into empty seat in back with Joan, bump shoulders,

“so hall monitors dont sack me”,

C2 staring back at them, look at eachother and smirk,

“whadda we doin”

dead stare

“its that time of year?!? I uh shoulda jus skipped”

“whaaat you mean you DONT want to watch your clone father get shot again?”

“Id uh rather ME get shot ta not havta sit through this shit again.”

“Miss of Arc, can you share a fun fact about your clone mother with the class”

Joan leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “She’s dead” Joan flatly stated.

“...okay very… fun… anyway the real Joan of Arc was bo-” Joan goes back to not paying attention and doodling, click onto prez, its been edited to smear Joan, “JoA a whore, liar, witch, text box saying TO DO with arrow pointing to depiction of Joan being tied for burning, etc“ sheepman goes on and on clicking thru wo looking cuz hes got it memorized at this point. JFK sees it then sees C2 and class staring back at him and Joan, is about to habitually explode out of his seat at them, remembers “They’re just trying to get a rise out of you. They want you to be angry. Just ignore them”. Contains self and rips glare from Ceasar,

Turns quickly to join Joan doodling, but shes stopped. He glances down at her laying on her desk and realizes shes watching the screen eyes wide and brows knitted with horror(still in laying down on desk position, just looking more towards screen), JFK notices C2 trying to lean past his shoulder to see Joan’s expression but he uses his body to block them from doing so.

Writes note and pokes her hand, looks at him still in disbelief and betrayal, he gestures his eyes down at the paper.

‘you ok?’

‘NO’ joan looks furious and tucks head back down in arms. Writing with dark red ink. Jfk slides the notebook onto his thigh.

‘should i beat them up for you’ jfk winced as joan wrote aggressively on the paper on his leg.

‘YES(aggressively crossed out) NO’

‘ignore them?’

‘YES’

Jack tried to peek over at her face, but it was concealed by her arms. He mirrored her position, putting his forehead on his forearm and got as close as he could to her. Joan allowed his shoulder to touch hers as she wrote.

‘didnt know they hated me THAT much’ A dark dot appeared on the thigh of her green pants. She quickly brushed her concealed face with her sleeves. ‘1st time this has happened. usually dont pay attention to me ever’

JFK pressed his shoulder deeper into hers as he felt her body suppress a shudder, hoping to give her a bit of comfort. He released his right hand from its grip around his pen to stroke the back of her tense fist resting on the notebook. It relaxed, letting him briefly slip his fingers into her hand to give her a concerned squeeze.

He felt awful that he didn’t consider Joan’s sensitivity to attention, especially since Jack unintentionally drew so much of it to himself. He rubbed his shoulder warmly on hers and picked his pen up.

‘im sorry :( please let me beat them up’

Joan poised to write, then pulled her hand back.

‘kidding.’

JFKs hand stayed hovered over the paper.

‘I know them. want drama. lots of talk. want it to hurt. ignore like u said and we ok :)’

‘ignoring sucks when theyre starting rumors. being jackasses.’ The dark red ink from Joan’s pen pooled and smeared from the angry pressure she applied to it.

JFK circled the ‘please let me beat them up’ he wrote earlier and started adding ‘and steal more things from their hou-’. Joan swatted his hand off the paper.

‘ur used to attention. good + bad. from everyone. too much for me. cant do this.’

Her hand readjusted the pen a couple times. Another dark dot joined the other on her thigh.

‘shouldve stayed private’

Joan reluctantly took her shoulder away from his. Jack grabbed the notebook as Joan’s knee moved out from under it where it was sharing the space with his. ‘Shouldve stayed private’ hit him like a bullet to the brain. She was right about that. It had only brought them C2’s social barbarism. But Joan was also wrong because he loved being public about them and he was sure that she did too.

But she was right.

But she was wrong.

But she was right.

The warring sides ping-ponged in JFK’s head. No. Joan was wrong. She was wrong because them being a couple didn’t warrant everyone treating them so cruelly. Ceasar and Catherine and everyone else were the ones that were actually in the wrong. Jack felt the anger rise again. Why were they treating Joan this way? What was their deal?

He kept his right hand gripped on the edge of the papers, having a small hope that Joan would take it if she needed him but knowing she wouldn’t.

He sat back up to see Joan with her chin resting on her crossed forearms watching the last couple of slides which weren’t defaced. Guess the saboteurs didn’t get that far.

Mr. Sheepman closed the current presentation and opened another. JFK winced. He knew that title slide too well.

“JFK, do you have any fun facts about your clone father for the class? Let’s keep it um PG this year please” Sheepman addressed him.

The entire class whipped around to stare again. Joan turned her head so no one could look at her.

“Er uh he’s- he was of uh Irish des-”

“Oh! I know! JFK didn’t turn down anyone offering *ahem* favors! He didn’t let anyone slow him down with those *very* important presidential duties.” Catherine butted in.

Jack sucked a breath in, digging his nails into his leg to try and stay grounded. He swallowed hard, no longer able to hear the jeering that had exploded in the room pointed at him and Joan as the suffocating pressure built in his head.

He suddenly felt a pointed jab between his locked knuckles, pulling him back to reality. He blinked confusedly, shocked by the sharp pain but relieved it snapped him out of whatever that was. Mr. Sheepman was quieting down the class and the taunting had stopped.

“-quiet down, Catherine. While that was um incredibly vague and not at all insinuating anything, I’m pretty certain I was asking JFK here for his answer.” Mr Sheepman scolded. He gestured for JFK to continue.

JFK was frozen in place, his face expressionless.

“He’s dead” Jack stammered. He avoided all eye contact by staring down at the backs of his hands still resting on his legs. There was a dark red ink dot between his middle knuckles.

“Whelp, I can see that Joan’s influence is rubbing off on you. How pleasant. Yes our 35th Presi-”

Jack waited for the majority of class to look back at the presentation then looked down at Joan. She had her head laying in the crook of her left elbow, turned slightly at him. Her eyes scanned the room carefully then glanced up at Jack with worried scrutiny. Seeing that he was looking back at her, they flicked shut. Jack noticed that her right hand held her dark red pen. He rubbed at the spot on his hand.

How could she tell…?

Joan peeked her eyes open, watching Jack rest his head on hands, feigning boredom to pretend like he’s not paying attention as his own cruel defaced slides flick by. His face had reduced itself to an eerie blankness. Joan would’ve believed he really wasn’t paying attention if she didn’t catch him clench his jaw at certain slides.

Rewrite > She was pissed at him. She was pissed that he was so concerned about her. She was pissed that he hadn’t come to her with whatever is on his mind. She was most pissed that their classmates had bandwagoned with C2, spitting ugly awful things at Jack just because he chose to be with her. It wasn’t right. She felt her own vengeful urges surge to a scorching high.

She had wanted to hold his hand so badly when she saw him keep it rested on the notebook, to just give him a moment of gentleness. But it had felt like her classmates’ stares were forcing her away from him, pushing her off his comforting shoulder and crushing her into a little solitary ball of shame. <

She hated it for him. She hated that she couldn’t do more.

Maybe she’d beat them up for him. As a lovely little surprise gift.

Jacks knee started to bounce sporadically, catching Joan’s attention. Her heart dropped looking back at the screen. The presentation had finally reached the dreaded video. The icing on top of this shitty day.

Joan felt a tortured pang as she watched Jack discreetly plug his ears and squeeze his eyes shut just before Sheepman hit play.

Chapter Text

[Yeah I never wrote anything for this narrative bridge, sorry yall!]

Chapter Text

[Wow another rough one! It gets juicy after this tho]

Joan discovers that the notes were faked by Abe. She compares handwriting from JFKs stupid notes to the suspicious ones to Abe’s dumb handwritten screenplay he pitched to her when they dated. The As curve a certain way and the energy is totally different. It’s Abe for sure.

Drops everything/stops her car and turns around and speeds her way around town, anywhere Jack could be. She passed the school noticing the sheer number of cars in the lot for a weekend. She parked away from the chaos and strode over to check things out.

No games or events were planned at all this weekend. Something awful was happening.

Joan’s stomach dropped as she saw JFKs Chevy boxed in intentionally by the other cars. She felt nauseous when she saw Lincoln’s car tightly blocking the front bumper. No one had the guts to wreck the vintage Chevy so they had instead dumped anything and everything JFK related into it along with enough staticky styrofoam beads to fill the convertible cabin to the brim. his trophies, pictures, notes, signs, medals, a plaque of the real JFK, books and articles about the real JFK annotated with awful notes attached to bookmarks and scrawled into the covers, the entirety of his locker(like all of it, including the physical locker ripped out of the wall) were all tossed amongst the sea of styrofoam. Some beads blew away in the slight breeze. As much as she hated to admit it, Joan had bigger problems to deal with than litter. She peeled her eyes from the scene in front of her and shifted her gaze to the propped open side door. She could feel her heart start to race. She quickly tightened her bootlaces through the top rivet and sprinted to the door.

Chapter Text

“Where did the old JFK go?”, “I thought you said you’d be down to get down later! What a let down” “Why cant you be like your clone father again?”, “That Joan of Arc’s turned you into a prude JFK!”, JFK spirals as former friends/classmates circle him and berate him and blame his change on Joan, which isn’t wrong but the things they’re saying about her get to him.

“DONT YOU TALK ABOUT JOAN THAT WAY YOU FUCKS. THIS WAS MY OWN GOD DAMN CHOICE.” gets up in Julius and Catherine’s faces, JFK tries to get away but is shoved back into center of circle,

“Not man enough anymore to put your dukes up JFK? What did Joan do, castrate you?”

“~stop~”

“Maybe she thinks you’re too aggressive? She took you down a notch because she’s tired of being second best”.

“She’s gotta hold you back like a fighting dog whenever you get pissed haha you’re such a loser now”

“shut UP”,

Crowd intentionally antagonizes JFK as the circle tightens. JFK snaps and actually swings. He charged Ceasar “Where the FUCK is Jo-“

Catherine hooked her foot in his path, catching his advancing legs.

He stumbles but catches himsel-

Everything exploded into dizzying stars.

JFK felt the ground slam deafeningly into the frontside of his body. The floor nauseatingly pitched and swayed like a ship in a storm as his downed body clung to it. He groaned as he peeled open his seasick eyes, pulling a towering Caesar into focus as he cooly shook out his fist. The mob’s noise became cacophonous as a leaded foot grinded into his back, holding him down.

As if JFK could get up anyway. Or even wanted to. The angry fire inside him was blown out.

Jack forfeited. He was exhausted.

Maybe I do deserve this.

He stared off into space, dazed from the punch and his resignation of self, the insults and laughing and pressure from Ceasars foot increased, heel digs into his back grinding painfully on his shoulder blade and ribs,

C2 jeer at him that ‘his sweet little joanie-wonies” gonna be pissed finding out that JFK is being aggro. The crowd erupted into laughter at the mocking nickname.

At that second the sound of yelping and bodies being forcefully shoved to the ground erupted from the mob, C2’s faces twisted into fearful scrutiny and their eyes darted searching the mob gathered in the dark hallway, the pressure on his back didnt lighten up

A pair of heavy footsteps landed a couple paces behind JFK’s feet. Rolling gasp from the entire inner circle, their faces stretched into shocked/horrified looks as they watched the figure storm towards C2, JFK was too exhausted to flinch as the figures black leather boots, with laces tied all the way to the top rivet, squared themselves solidly on the ground in front of him,

who even ties their boots up that high?

The subsequent punch cracked deafeningly through the halls

It was quickly followed by a distant thump and a horrible screeching sound as skin slid painfully over the linoleum floor.

The mob gawked.

JFK shakily started pushing himself up onto his elbows, wincing as his socked jaw ached. It hurt, but he’d had worse. he could shake this out.

He angled his head up over his shoulder. Out of the blurred corner of his vision, he watched as Joan swept Catherine’s feet out from under her. She crashed to the ground hard, knocking the wind out of her. Planting her boot on Catherine’s stomach, Joan thrust her across the tiled floor. She collided with the unconscious Ceasar, joining him in the brand new Loser Corner.

Everything was silent. The only thing everyone could hear was Joan’s boots treading back to JFK.

“C’mon big guy, let’s live the dream”

JFK suddenly found himself standing upright, no longer feeling the floor heave. Joan’s hands gripped firmly on his shoulders, steadying him. Her concerned eyes analyzed him from under a lowered brow.

You good?

He blinked back, giving a slight nod.

Yeah.

Joan squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, letting go to step around him.

The crowd around them chattered and whispered nervously.

JFK felt the flame inside him spark back to life as he felt Joan press against his back. A different fire than before. She lined herself up tightly behind him, back-to-back, guarding his blind spots.

JFK hastily rolled up his sleeves and swallowed hard, glaring out as the mob surrounding them had started to take uneasy steps back. He couldn’t think about what had just happened: it was time to stoke this kindling fire.

His arms pulled up into an offensive pose, mirroring Joan behind him. Despite their predicament, JFK couldn't help but let a smirk grow on his face.

He was glad to not be on the receiving end of Joan’s fists for once.

Because now they were working together.

They were a team.

Half the mob stampeded away. The other half seemed to be eager to take home a collection of black eyes and broken fingers.

“Already livin’ the dream, Joanie”

They lunged.

---

The clone of Freud burst out the side door trying to flee but he couldn’t escape Joan and JFK. Jack caught up to him and cut him off, making Sigmund come to a screeching halt. As he turned around, Joan grabbed a fistful of his shirt front, staining the spot bright red, and lifted him into the air. She stared straight into him and raised her raw bloodied knuckles at him. He cowered

“What are Julius and Catherine up to?!” she growled through a busted lip. “Why have they been up both of our asses all week?! Why won’t they leave us alone?!” Freud flinched each time Joan emphasized a word.

“You uh saw what happened to yer cronies. Start talkin!” JFK spat.

“They told us to! They said you-“ he pointed at Joan, his accent pulling through as he spoke “-were turning heem-“ his other arm crossed over the first and pointed at JFK. “-down the same anti clone parent influence lifestyle you follow and-and keepeeng heem for yourself! And that JFK abandoned his friends and broke the promeeses he made to broads and gave up the manliness he was created with just to bone some, some loser!” Joan’s formerly cocked shoulder loosened in disbelief. Jacks face was blank. He chewed on the inside of his lip. “Not my words. I know eets all false mhm I’m Sigmund Freud. I’m taking part for zee purpose of… let’s say field research hehe.”

“Asshole” Joan growled.

“The funneest theeng” Sigmund giggled “ees that I know sometheeng everyone else doesn’t! Ho ho!”

The psychologist clone’s grinning eyes darted between his aggressors. They didn’t need to interrogate him for the information. He was obviously desperate to spill it. Freud looked right at Joan.

“Jealous Abe is behind it all! He he! What a twist of character! Oh what a fascinating study of character ho ho!!”

Joan whipped her gaze over to the lot where JFK’s trashed car was blocked in. No other cars were there but Freuds shitty sedan and Jacks Chevy with Lincoln’s car still sitting at its nose. Joan whipped her head back toward the side door and the windows around it, her eyes darting for any sign of movement or a shape from Abe’s silhouette.

Nothing.

Joan released Freud and kicked his back, giving him a speed boost in his escape.

“Er uh Joan he-“

“Let him go” Joan was too tired to keep Freud locked for long. And her fading adrenaline was felt in increasingly intense waves of aching pain. The confirmation that Abe is working with Julius and Catherine was the last blow to her vengeful momentum.

The two clones stood panting together in the lot, with one of them occasionally sniffing or coughing. Both of their shirts were soaked with sweat. The white fabric of JFKs polo and Joan’s pants had light spatters of blood on them. JFK’s knees were dirtied and one of Joan’s knees was visible through a large tear, exposing the scraped skin underneath. Jack pushed his sweaty hair out of his face and winced as his raw knuckles stung from the contact. Joan wiped the small clot of blood from her busted lip. It disappeared into the mess of red that had started to dry on her destroyed knuckles. She could feel Jacks eyes on her as he rubbed gingerly at his hands.

“We’re uh pretty fucked up huh” JFK weakly grinned at Joan. She nodded letting out a scoff.

“Yeah? You should see the other guy…s”

They shared an exhausted laugh. Jack pulled his sleeves down, hiding the red blooming bruises and scratches on his forearms.

“Er uh knowing what we know now, I wish we coulda pounded Lincoln. I woulda socked him an’ his evil doin inta the next century if we saw him in that fray.” JFK furrowed his brows. “I uh cant believe he’s treatin ya like this Jo”

“it’s so weird. I don’t know what hes doing. It’s so… out of character…” she stared off, biting at her open lip. “What about you Jack? He’s been spreading some shit about you too and… I don’t think you deserve that” Joan frowned at him. JFK avoided her gaze as she moved closer. Joan slapped her fist into her palm, ignoring the pain “I could punch him so hard for you right now tha-“

“Don’t worry ‘bout me.” JFK interrupted. His voice fell “It’s uh… fucked up what they’ve been sayin bout ya. Y’dont deserve that Jo” he murmured, his eyes still turned away.

Joan hung on his words, her brow furrowing. She shook her head out “Man…” She started tiredly toward her car beckoning for JFK to follow her. He glanced sadly toward his trashed car before turning to join her. Joan was having trouble handling her keys in her bloodied hands. She rubbed at a tender spot on her head.

“Jo gimme th’ keys. I’m uh not gunna let ya drive with yer hands lookin like that and uh head injury”

“It’s not a concussion Jack. I can drive”

“I know that. Still er uh not gonna happen though.” Jack looped his scraped finger through the keyring in Joan’s palm. He opened the passenger door for her and she exhaustedly flopped into the upholstered seat without protest. Jack fell into the drivers seat and started carefully adjusting Joan’s mirrors.

Joan glared up at him from her slumped position beside him.

“I’ll uh return em back to how ya had em, I promise Jo”

JFK glanced at himself in the rear view mirror for a second.

He felt like he was looking at a complete stranger. That wasn’t a new feeling, he was used to that.But the recent bouts of choking existential dread that came flooding into him were.

Pressure filled his ears again with ringing and his heart dropped into his heaving stomach.

He felt his chest go still and his body turn cold as he stared into himself for that single endless moment in time.

Who am I.

Jack felt weight on his wrist and a voice push through the deafening noiselessness. “

Jack? Are you really okay enough to drive? Because personally, you look like you’ve seen a g-“ Jack ripped his wrist out of Joan’s grip to turn the mirror enough to break contact with his reflection

Jack swallowed hard. Something inside him tried to surface. He felt like he was going to vomit.

He swallowed harder.

“Er uh yeah yeah I’m uh all good. All good Joanie. Er uh just finishing up adjusting yer mirrors heh heh” he fiddled with the mirror more to really sell it and flashed a toothy grin over at a concerned Joan. He watched her shrug and face the front window.

As JFK pulled onto the street, he could feel Joan’s eyes examining him. They traced up and around his arms and hands but focused most intensely on his clammy face.

Joan needed him to be supportive right now. Yeah. She needed him to be strong.

But he knew that Joan was picking him apart like an orange under her gaze.

It was too late for him to try and hide it all. She’d figured him out.

Chapter Text

[This one was supposed to take a different direction in the edit, but I never quite got there]

JFK emerging from shower shaking out hair, wearing off-white basketball tshirt with orange track joggers, both washed off sweat and blood and freshen up,

Grabs garment bag that Joan put her choker and bra in, and tosses it in washer with both their clothes. Starts it up.

Joan zonked on couch airing out open wounds and icing her wrists, cozily wrapped in JFK’s Clone State sweatshirt with the sleeves cuffed up and soft black shorts.

JFK squatted down shakily on his aching thighs next to her. His legs hadn’t felt this sore since Scudworth released lions onto the track field, attempting to train the clones to be faster by using fear tactics. Jack leaned his side into the cushion and reached to softly touch Joan’s shoulder. He jumped as Joan abruptly jerked awake. JFK moved closer as she slowly rolled open her groggy eyes, fighting the half-sleep she woke from.

“Do you uh want a blanket or somethin Joanie?'' JFK cupped her cheek as her eyes rolled open at him.

“Mmmm” Joan groaned slurring her words. “no-no idon wanna get bloodon ‘nything…”. She rubbed her face into his hand.

JFK reaches over her and pulls down a throw blanket that’s draped over the couch edge. He wraps it around her, despite her concerns. It’s just fabric. It can be washed. She doesn’t protest as she dazedly watches him tuck it around her through her sinking lids.

Jack stroked her cheek with his thumb. noticing the scuffs and open scratches on her chin and nose. Joan’s lip was still split open. He gets up and his legs nearly topple before he braces himself against the coffee table and the wall.

aching and sharp pains, hard to walk from soreness, nails chipped, knuckles open and raw, hands shaky, JFK’s arms blotted in bruises from defending,

JFK gets out the first aid kit his dads specifically made for him when he would get in fights from the top of the cabinet in the kitchen. He brushed the dust off the top latches.

Sits down on couch sideways, carefully moving Joan’s legs so he could sit, and pulls her into a sitting position facing him, draping the blanket around her shoulders. She slumps forward from the sudden tilt of his weight on the cushions and lays her head on his shoulder, propping herself against him with an exhausted sigh. JFK nodded his head onto hers, just for a fleeting moment.

Jack felt himself dip into unconsciousness.

His own voice pushed through the intoxicating pull of sleep.

I have things to do.

Joan needs me.

I need to patch Joan up.

Jack jostled himself back into consciousness.

With Joans head still on his shoulder, he carefully took her stiff hands in his. Joan’s hands could barely articulate from how much abuse her fists took. Inspecting her sweating palm, he trailed his fingers down the bottom sides of hers, stopping at her ice cold fingertips.

He carefully turned her hands over, sucking in a pained breath as he saw her knuckles up close for the first time. The top layer of skin along the base joint of her fingers was essentially gone, the flaking tears exposing the ruby red sub-skin and tissue underneath. A maroon cloud of bruising had bloomed under each of her knuckles, all of which were nearly black with the amount of dark red blood that had dried over the impact points.

Joan moaned into his shoulder. He felt her hands shudder as she tried to stretch them open flat.

Jack’s eyes narrowed pointedly. He squeezed at the bottoms of her palms with his thumb and index finger. No reaction from Joan. He shifted up to do the same at the tops. Also no reaction. He exhaled a sigh of relief. No fracture. Probably got a pretty nasty sprain.

The first-aid kit popped open as Jack rummaged around in it for supplies, trying to recall what his dads did for him when he would get in scuffles.

Gauze….

Tape…

Compression wrap…

Oh…

Jack nudged a near-empty stick of concealer at the bottom of the box with his finger.

JFK always made sure he was pristine the day after a fight, rejecting his dads’ loving bandages and using makeup to cover any visible marks or bruises. Everyone would be in shock the next day at school, seeing him totally unmarred from the brawl the day before. He was proud that everyone knew that nothing affected him.

He sighed, his breath wavering.

Guess that grand illusion was tarnished now.

The concealer was flicked aside as Jack gathered what Joan needed. He staged it all in her parallel lap, moving closer so their legs were almost crossing over the others’. Joan nestled her head in his neck.

He took Joan’s small hands in his again.

Jack swiped an alcohol-soaked pad over her skin, carefully avoiding her red open skin. As he waited on the alcohol to fully evaporate, JFK felt a familiar tingling sensation on his hands. Joan’s eyes were surveying him as he worked.

JFK gingerly spread a thin layer of antiseptic ointment on the torn up skin and around her open finger joints. He resized and positioned gauze on her knuckles. He held the end of the thin compression wrapping under his thumb as he started to gently bind her right hand, weaving rhythmically around her upper palm and between her fingers.

Thinks about

“Jack I don’t think I’m that injured.”

Joan’s wry musing brought JFK’s eyes back into focus on the external world. He had wrapped Joan’s hand with nearly the entire roll of compression binding. He wavered for a second then shook out his head.

“Shit” He cursed himself as he dazedly unraveled the majority of the wrapping from Joan’s right hand, tearing the width and stretching it to secure it to itself when it reached the appropriate thickness around her wounds.

Joan’s entire body shook as she stretched, lifting her head off Jack’s shoulder, attempting to rid herself of the exhaustion that fogged her brain.

Joan had important things to do as well.

She watched Jack intently as he rummaged around in the kit, searching for additional supplies.

Jack turned back towards her hands, now armed with a different size of gauze and a small tube of something. He glanced up at Joan.

“Hiya, Jo.”

She blinked back.

JFK gestured, tapping at his lip, then presented her with the tube of skin glue. “Ta put yer uh face back together. There’s uh mirror in th’ kitchen you can use when I’m done here.”

Joan took the tube, but didn’t take her eyes off his face. His eyes darted below his furrowed brows. He was biting his lip as he examined her left hand.

Joan’s voice was raspy from sleep as she whispered to him.

“What’s wrong, Jack”

“Well, uh” He shifted. “No broken bones or uh fractures. Jus’ a bit of wear n’ tear t’yer knuc-”

“No.”

Joan, using her bound hand, tilted his chin up and stared down into him with up-turned brows and gentle sympathetic eyes. Jack held her gaze anxiously, terrified of what Joan might ask but hypnotized by her expression. He’d never seen her eyes so… soft.

“Hey” Joan murmured. “What’s been going on with you lately. I wanna know.” She rested her hand on JFK’s knee, still gazing into him. She squeezed it encouragingly.

He ripped his focus from her comforting eyes and locked them back at the task at hand. He swallowed.

JFK’s previously steady hands now shook as he cleaned and treated her left set of knuckles. He sniffed and pushed his still damp hair out of his eyes.

“Uh. Worried ‘bout you. I guess.” his voice was quiet. The knee held under Joan’s grasp started to bounce.

“I’m worried about you, Jack. The way you’ve b-”

“Don’t worry ‘bout me.”

“...the way you're deflecting my help scares me.”

Jack refused to look at her and instead continued to intently tape the final wrappings on Joan’s hands.

As he finished securing the tape, Joan firmly grabbed his hand in hers, avoiding his red knuckles. She leaned closer into him, pulling his hands towards her.

“Talk to me.”

Jack bit his lip anxiously.

“I’m uh fine. I promise.” He mumbled. “Nothin’ ta worry ‘bout. Jus’ tired. And uh no need ta be so rough, Jo, here” JFK pressed the gauze and tape into her hands, escaping Joan’s prying grip.

Joan sighed.

“I need your hands back over here.”

Jack huffed and settled his hands on her crossed ankles. Joan paused before lifting his hands to inspect his knuckles. Jack glanced up at her when she moved to carefully hold his forearms instead.

“Jesus Jack. Your arms…” Joan’s face twisted in concern as she analyzed the arms she was cradling. The skin was blotted with red and purple like an amateur watercolor painting.

“Er uh had’ta protect the ol’ moneymaker.” JFK weakly laughed. “Got’n worse at football practice. They’ll be okay.”

He barely finished his sentence before Joan popped off the couch, jostling JFK. He watched as she disappeared into the kitchen entry. There were some raucous rummaging sounds before Joan came padding back, holding ice packs in her arms. She perched back on her spot across from Jack and guided his arms back in position.

[Um i skipped another narrative bridge]

“Jack, c’mon, you’re a bad liar AND a bad actor!” Joan’s voice raised into a snarl. “You’ve gotta open up to me about whatever it is or nothing is going to change!”

Jack’s face stayed blank.

Joan exasperatedly clutched at the air. “JESUS”.

She snatched his hands, pulling them into her chest. Jack looked up at her for a split second. A pang of remorse shot through him as he saw how heartbroken Joan was, despite her outward frustration. He guiltily stared down at the kitchen tiles as she held his hands against her.

“LET ME BE WORRIED ABOUT YOU! LET ME HELP!”

“STOP BEING WORRIED ABOUT ME. I REALLY DON’T NEED YOU DOING THAT, OKAY. I’LL FIGURE IT OUT ON MY OWN. I’M FINE.”

JFK threw his bandaged hands up, ripping them from Joan’s grasp again as he stood up and turned his back to her.

The pressure in the air increased as he felt himself cracking again. His eyes prickled, threatening to produce a tear. His breaths were short and fast. The guilt tore through his chest and left him feeling ice cold and hollow.

Empty.

Nothing.

Get a grip Kennedy. You’ve made Joan feel responsible for you. No one wants that on them. Stop it! STOP!!!

Jack didn’t even notice his fingernails sinking punishingly into his palms until he heard Joan speak.

“I know you’re not fine, Kennedy.” Joan murmured. “I’m not leaving you, okay? I’m here for you.” She sighed. “What can I do. Right now. That could help” She spoke slowly, carefully enunciating her words.

They stood in silence for what felt like ages.

The kitchen lights buzzed quietly as the standoff tensely persisted. JFK remained turned from Joan, fighting to contain everything that was clawing at the already bulging seams. He knew Joan’s eyes were on him as they always were, scanning to find anything damnable that managed to escape.

His short breaths became longer as he tried to collect himself. As he inhaled shakily, his chest convulsed from the sob he was repressing. JFK’s breath caught on his throat.

He whimpered.

Shit.

He heard Joan hop down from the counter behind him. JFK panickedly forced down as much as he could before Joan could finish wrapping her arms around him from behind.

He recoiled out of her embrace, hopping a step back as he faced her. JFK’s face was empty of emotion as he locked his stare on Joan. The hollow chill persisted in his chest as he took in her distressed expression. Joan bit her lip and apologetically withdrew back into herself, crossing her arms over her body.

“Okay.” Joan rested her cheek on her fist, her other arm still crossed over her body. She was visibly crushed. “Okay.”

JFK swallowed hard, his jaw chattering and his heart hammering in his ears. His lips pathetically attempted to form ‘I’m fine’ but nothing discernable moved through.

Joan wanted to help. So bad. But she couldn’t do anything if JFK didn’t talk to her. Or let her touch him. How was she supposed to do this?

She sighed defeatedly into her fist as her eyes slowly began to bead with tears.

She heard JFK sniff hard and his mouth suck in a terrified breath. She looked up at him, catching his eyes flickering around the room nervously. JFK stammered, his entire body stiff.

“I’ve gotta uh gotta…” His voice was strained. JFK shakily half-pointed at something behind Joan. “…in th-that drawer b-behind y-you, there’s a-”

Joan’s face instantly lifted.

Finally. Finally we’re gonna start talking.

She spun around eagerly before JFK could even finish, wiping her eyes on her shoulder, and yanked open the drawer he alluded to.

Joan’s energy screeched to a halt.

It was empty. She peered deeper into it to confirm. Yeah. The drawer was empty. She stared down perplexed before turning to face JFK again.

“Is this the right dr-”

Joan found herself alone in the kitchen.

JFK had vanished.

She spun around, searching for any sign of him. Nothing.

“...what the fuck…?”

A sudden thumping noise caught her attention.

The off-beat pattern of panicked footsteps scrambling up a carpeted staircase emanated from the living room.

Joan slammed the decoy drawer shut.

Chapter Text

“Not sure what you expected to happen, but you didn’t lock your door. So. I’m coming in.” Joan stood in the doorway to JFK’s room. “The stupid ’No girls allowed sign’ doesn’t deter me”

Joan glared into the dark room, her eyes slowly adjusting. She made out a small silhouette balled up on JFK’s bed. It was Jack. He had curled up onto his unmade bed, clenching his eyes shut.

The room was dim with only the cloudy light from outside illuminating the space through the windows.

She’d only been in his room once before. It felt different without JFK loudly blabbing on and on about how exactly they should slander Lincoln while they made the smear campaign for the student election together. They barely got the video complete, between JFK being obnoxiously distracting with his endless ideas and Joan trying to film and edit the thing with him. But the end result was honestly great. And effective. She hated admitting it then, but they were a good team. Odd. But good.

The memory made Joan grin sentimentally.

If only that Joan could see her now, 20 years later and yet barely older than she was then, begging JFK to talk to her instead of begging him to shut up.

Joan felt a pang looking at Jack holding himself together, cocooned into a lonely ball on his bed. Jack looked so sad and… small. He looked like a totally different person: an unrecognizable husk of his former self.

Joan padded across the carpet and crouched down next to JFK’s face. She watched his eyes flicker under his lids and his eyes pinch tighter as she approached.

She set her arm on his bed. Her hand patted the sheet JFK rested on.

“Seriously Jack? I know you’re awake. C'mon, please talk with me”

No reaction.

Joan rolled her eyes and gently slid her hand up to his face. His skin was clammy and cold. She traced up to his eye and rested on his temple, setting her thumb on his lower lid and her index on his upper. He didn’t flinch.

Joan carefully opened his watery eye with her finger tips, exposing his grey-green iris and reddened sclera. It angled itself away from her as she held his lids open.

“Hey. C'mon.”

He driftily glanced around before settling on Joan. Joan looked into him expectantly, raising her brows.

JFK rolled over with a growl and turned imself away, causing Joan’s arm to flop down onto the now-vacant mattress. Joan sighed frustratedly, resting her chin on the edge of the bed. Great. Now he was out of arm's reach. Again.

Hold on.

Joan slowly stood up. Her heart raced as she studied the open spot next to him.

Joan took a deep breath to steady herself.

“Dammit”

She never ever imagined herself climbing into any bed with JFK, let alone HIS bed(or the one at prom), but there she was, quietly cursing at herself as she did so.

The smaller clone stiffly settled onto JFK’s bed. She gently pulled the sheets and blankets up around Jack and herself, careful to not hurt his or her own bruised bodies. The soft blanket completely swallowed her up, surrounding her in Jack’s scent as it warmly draped over her form. She instinctively secured the blanket around herself, breathing it in and slowly exhaling.

Maybe it would be okay.

Joan relaxed into the residual warmth Jack had left behind on the side of the mattress she laid on. It almost felt like he was holding her again.

She looked up at JFK’s bent back and the nape of his mussed hair. Joan reached out warily to play with the wrinkly folds on his tshirt, pushing them around his back with her fingers, making different shapes.

She brought her fingertips up to his shoulder blade and gently drummed with them.

“What’s wrong.”

“…Nothin’…”

“Jack…”

There’s a pause as Joan waited on JFK to say anything. The wrinkles on the back of his shirt disappeared as JFK folded himself tighter. His voice was low.

“I don’t wanna bother ya with it all, really Jo. I uh just need a minute…” He trailed off into silence.

Joan stretched her stiff hand as flat as she could onto his back. “You don’t HAVE to share it with me, but… you’ve been acting so weird all week after the party and after classes and after the fight and in the car and in the kitchen today and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay and not, like, internalizing everything that’s been happening. Because, personally, from personal experience, that sucks” Joan traced down his spine. “I mean, that’s what I’m here for. To help you through this shit. As a friend… and as your sweet little ‘Joanie-Wonie’”.

Joan slipped her right hand under the hem of his shirt and teasingly pinched the side of his waist, earning her a ticklish squirm and a squeak from Jack. He snatched her hand with his left and rolled back around to face Joan, giving her a bitter glare. Joan smirked at him. But her smile quickly dissipated back into concern when JFK coldly released her hand and wrapped his arms over his chest, gripping his shoulders. His face faded back into blankness.

Shit.

“Um you-you really don’t have to say anything if you really don't want to. I just wanna be here for you if you need me, at least. I was just teasing. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.” Joan murmured softly, folding her arm back to herself. “I’m sorry.”

Not wanting to push him anymore, she pulled the blanket tighter around herself and closed her eyes, occasionally cracking them open to peek at Jack. He would look focused and then look at Joan and then back down. His finger and thumb rubbed his shirt hem nervously between them as he did.

Joan was content simply lying there with him, listening to his shallow breaths, as he thought things through the way he wanted.

She had almost fallen asleep when Jack's hushed voice drifted into the silence.

“How… Do you do what you do?”

“Hm?” Joan’s tired eyes peered open at him, quickly blinking out sleep to listen to him. JFK kept his eyes downturned, his lashes hiding his eyes.

“How are ya able to uh not feel pressured ta be like yer clone mother… I uh… always admired that ‘bout ya. I guess I never really figured it out fer myself…”

His voice trickled off.

Oh.

“Oh um I… I just stopped caring a couple years back. I chopped off my hair and then dyed it. Um… I stopped going to church everyday ‘cause I was tired of pretending like I wanted to be closer to some asshat god… I gave up on forcing myself into some crazy idea of myself that would be impossible to reach.” Joans eyes ducked and her voice fell. “To be honest I still… really haven’t um… shaken the pressure. It's stuck to me. To all of us. Forever. I mean what’re you supposed to feel, what’re you supposed to do when you’re raised to become a person that has already existed?!? You- you end up fucked up… The whole thing is fucked up.” Joan felt JFK’s eyes glance up at her downturned eyes and her shaking bottom lip. “Giving up is letting go and… and I guess I just haven’t… completely given up yet.” Joan’s voice cracked. She blinked the welling tears out of her eyes, hoping Jack wouldn’t see, and sniffed. “In the end, I just hope I’ll accept whoever I become. Because me becoming a perfect clone of Joan of Arc is just not gonna happen, no matter what me or anyone else might do.”

Joan watched out of her peripheral as JFK’s hand started unfolding shakily towards her. It paused, then curled back to his chest hesitantly. She looked up at him. His eyes squinted and his mouth flattened, wincing.

“It’s-it’s easier said than done,” Joan grumbled. “Getting rid of all that doesn’t happen overnight”

Jacks wince morphed into a distraught frown. His lower lip shook.

“But uh I dunno what ta do… If I did that I’d feel like I’m giving up on mys-“

“Jack, it’s not giving up on yourself if that self isn’t you. You're allowed to want to be like your clone father, but you can’t ever be him. And no one should ever expect you to be. Because, above all else, you” Joan tenderly placed her bandaged hand on Jack’s upper neck, cupping his jawline. He looked up at her with his heavy lidded eyes. “are your own person. You just… be you.”

Joan could feel his jaw shudder under her palm.

“Jo, but… you’re so much like your clone mother. And you uh don’t even try for it. How…?”

Joan grimaced. “That’s just the nature of Joan of Arc pulling through by itself. I don’t WANT to be like her. At all. And man I hate to admit it, but I do catch myself doing the things she would at the weirdest times-”

“Y’mean like when ya beat Lincoln out of er uh basketball team captain by dressin as a smokin hot guy?”

Joan looked back at JFK. His brow was quirked but his face was still sullen. The scuffed hand on his shoulder had now moved to cautiously graze the back of Joan’s on his neck.

“Yeah just like that”

“Hm” Jack hummed and looked focused again.

(Ins. more convo abt dissociation issues and fear of opening up and Joan’s anxiety)

Identity was an agonizing thing for JFK. Was the real JFK a good person? A bad one? Could people be grey? How subjective are those perspectives? He didn’t know why he was confused about who he was when his own blueprint was right in front of him. A macho womanizing stud that conquered the moon? He could stick to that. And he found that he loved that identity. But he always felt like he was lacking something.

Some… autonomy. Self direction.

But creating that required work and pulling dames was wayyy easier than self reflection for JFK.

From the instant he’d known he was a clone, he’d approached everything with a single question: ‘Would my clone father do this?’.

If he thought the real JFK would, then he’d do it.

If he thought he didn’t, then he didn’t.

Simple standard.

But then every waking minute started to be weighed on that scale. Jack became constricted to a tight set of self-imposed rules that soon turned into a social expectation around friends and classmates. And he was fine with that. JFK fit the mold set for him just right.

But something had cracked the mold

And Jack found that he had started to slowly drip out of it.

Chapter Text

[This one's a mess too]

barely had the guts to approach Joan on the steps at prom and offer take her home, she refused and instead asked if she could take up his offer from the night at his house party, JFK in shock “are you sure??, I can just take us home it’s not a big deal”, Joan insisted and JFK couldn’t deny that he had intense feelings for Joan, didn’t have the words to tell her but everyone’s love language is different, JFKs just ended up being more physical than word-ful, couldn’t help but feel embarrassed and ashamed after the unfreezing when Joan ran into Abe’s arms and not to JFKs side, guess his intentions got lost in translation,

JFK continued being charismatic and polite to Joan when they would have a rare interaction, she initially avoided Jack at all costs, clinging to Abe and veering out of JFKs sight, eventually Jack noticed she didn’t cling as close to Abe and started to meet his eyes in the hallways when they would pass,

she started to become the same way back to Jack but abrasive about it,

he saw that Joan was happy with Abe, it hurt but maybe he’s okay seeing her happy with her choice even if it’s that chowderhead Lincoln,

he knew he could get her to laugh on the rare occasion they would talk which was a pleasant surprise. he could tell that Lincoln hated it but more importantly that Joan loved it,

Abe squared up with JFK telling him that Joan’s not going to fall for his manipulation tactics again, JFK wanted to get up in his face and really pull the punches but, to everyone’s shock, decided to instead stand there and quietly take it. Did Joan tell him she thought JFK was manipulating her…? What was up with that “again”? He wasn’t sure.

Things got rough within the next couple weeks. Despite JFK now avoiding Joan out of confused guilt, he could tell she seemed more tired. She no longer linked arms with Abe and she would did that raucous laugh whenever Abe talked to her, only to fade back into melancholy once he looked away.

JFK couldn’t help but glance back at her in class, her seat across the room in the far back corner. Whenever she was in a class without Abe she would cut out the fake laugh and instead put her head down and doze off. One time he glanced back at her and she was staring right back at him. He jumped in his seat and starting fiddling with his pen trying to look intensely focused on disassembling it for no reason. He could feel her eyes burning into him for a while before she put her head down for the rest of class. As the bell rang, JFK noticed she tried to hide the dark tear stains spattered on the thighs of her pants by folding Abe’s slumped letter jacket in front of them when she got up to leave.

Joan had the nasty breakup with Abe after hitting her breaking point. She didn’t attend school for a week after.

JFK grew concerned for her. He drove his van to Cleo’s house sitting parked down the block, trying to rip himself from the seats and into the drizzling rain to reach the Smith’s doorstep. He was terrified of checking in on Joan. Would she think he was being weird? Was it intrusive? Did she still need space? He opted to run to the doorstep, jam his note in the mail slot and fucking book it back to his van. He sprinted through the rain, slipping and losing his footing on the soaked concrete as he made the sharp turn onto the doorstep.

He pushed open the mail slot only for it to pull away from his hands. He looked up like a deer in headlights at Cleo looming above him in the doorway clutching an umbrella. He shot to his feet.

“Ugh what are you doing here?”

“I-uh-“

“That’s what I thought. Get the hell out of here JFK. We don’t need you being a creep and spying on us through our mail slot.” Cleo jabbed the tip of the umbrella into his chest.

When he didn’t move she snatched the note from his hand.

“Cleo, could you uh give that ta Jo-“

Cleo unfolded it and started reading it.

“-an, nevermind” JFK defeatedly sighed and brushed off the rainwater that dripped from his wet hair.

Suddenly Cleo jabbed him again with the umbrella, this time harder.

“Woah! Nows NOT the time to be trying to get with Joan. Are you serious right now?” Her voice rose from an angry hiss and she stared daggers up at JFK.

“Wh- I’m not! I uh just wanna see if she’s okay! Did ya even read th’ note? I didn’t even give it my uh John Hancock” JFK looked hurt and his voice cracked.

“Yeah right. Why else would you care to check in on her if not to get in her pants?” Cleo’s words stung like lemon juice in a paper cut. “I know how you tick and, JFK, you’re a horny unfeeling moron.”

Cleo crumpled the note up in JFKs face.

The door slammed shut inches from his nose leaving him alone in the cold rain again. He sniffed and turned. JFK clutched his hunched shivering shoulders and trudged back down the sidewalk.

Unsure if he should go back and tell Cleo off, he looked back at the house and was spooked by a silhouette in Joan’s window looking back at him. It ducked out of sight when JFK held the gaze.

Jack stayed staring at the window for a moment then turned back to his car. He shook out his hair and hopped into his van, removing his soaked rugby jersey and throwing on an old sweatshirt over his bare chest.

He defeatedly slumped down in his seat. I’m such a chowderhead . ‘Get in her pants.’ Of course Cleo’d think that. That was dumb. So stupid. I’m never doin that again.

Jack dug the key into the van’s ignition. It puttered to life. As he shimmied himself back into a sitting position, a dark silhouette eased into his peripheral. It was Cleo’s umbrella.

He leaned over to the passenger window and cranked it halfway down.

“Yeah yeah ya already told me off Cleo I uh get it. Righto. No need ta keep givin’ me th’ royal shaft bout it.” JFK had his face scrunched in contempt, peering down at the top of the umbrella.

The edge of it angled up, exposing a familiar glare so sharp it could cut steel.

Ohhh shit.

Kennedy’s heart stopped beating. He was a dead man.

He slowly reached over to lock the door while maintaining eye contact with Joan, hoping she couldn’t see him if he didn’t make any sudden movements.

Something tapped on the window.

“You dropped this,” Joan’s voice was low and raspy, like she hadn’t spoken for days. “when you slipped”.

She was holding his comb out to him. JFK got a proper look at her. She was barefoot in the rain, wearing her basketball shorts and an oversized black hoodie with one arm slung in the front pocket, her elbow clutching the umbrella rod. The hood was cinched tight, obscuring her hair and framing her face. Joan’s eyes were tired and they avoided his gaze as she held up the comb. Her short nails had no trace of their usual black polish on them.

“You gonna take it? My sleeve’s getting soaked here.”

Jack took the comb from her and wedged it back in its spot in his front pocket. The end of it stuck out. He really needed to get pants with deeper pockets.

When he looked back up, Joan was pulling something out of her hoodie pouch. JFK watched in horrified embarrassment as she held up his note, now neatly folded instead of crumpled.

“Er-uh,” “Um,”
“I’m sorry.” “Thanks”

The two clones blurted simultaneously.

Jack met her gaze, seeing surprise flash behind her exhausted eyes. He knew she saw the same in his as they mirrored each other’s analyzing stare.

Joan wordlessly ducked the umbrella, tucking the note back in her pocket and strode back toward Cleo’s house in the pattering rain. JFK leaned back in his chair and finally let out the breath he had been holding in the whole time. He peeked at the side mirror, watching the front door to the house close through the pouring rain.

I bet Joan thinks I’m an over-sensitive idiot now.

She already does.

Chapter Text

And Joan was right. Jack was a sensitive person. And an idiot for letting himself forcefully contain those feelings inside of himself.

Not at least until recently. Both the good and bad emotions from everything he had ever suppressed or watered down came surging into him over the past week. The good sensitivity was welcome and he knew Joan loved that side of him. But the bad side destroyed Jack. It weakened him down to a husk when he faced Ceasar and Catherine alone. It had finally broken free from its cramped cage and surfaced in front of Joan. He was terrified of what her reaction would be to seeing him frail and broken down.

He was certain Joan didn’t want him after seeing it all gradually begin to break apart over the past week. The undefeated, immovable, unstoppable JFK was torn apart by his own two hands, now bleeding out on the golden stage he had built for himself.

And yet there Joan was. Right in front of him, fighting for him and trying to be near him and accepting him and telling him lovely things about himself he’s never heard before in his life.

She accepted the parts of him he hated the most. She reminded him that he couldn't be a whole person without his flaws.

And yet, despite all the affirmations and openness Joan offered him, JFK failed her again and again. He wasn’t good enough for her and that truth made his soul ache from guilt.

He had almost denied that he was dating Joan to everyone at Catherine’s party. He couldn’t believe that he almost denied that he was proudly with the girl he was absolutely mad about just to preserve an ounce of his dog shit reputation.

Joan had no hesitation when Cesar questioned her at the party. And she had absolutely no hesitation knocking Cesar and Catherine to the floor when she found him defeated.

What the hell did she see in him.

Chapter Text

“I’m not worthy of you Joan. I’m not… I’m not enough. I don’t deserve you. Im sorry”, JFK pulled inwardly and away from Joan’s touch. “I suck. I… I couldn’t stand up to Cesar or Catherine for you at that party… I stayed uh clammed up on ya because I’m too scared of turnin belly up to anyone… I’m-I’m so scared to. I uh feel like such a fuckin shithead fer not seein’ yer fears ‘bout bein’ together in front of everyone. I only think ‘bout myself ‘n what I want... I cant believe I led ya t’think I’m anythin’ worth saving. And-and what everyone was sayin bout me was true. An’ I was just- And I’m in denial. I’ve been hidin’ it from ya. I’m sorry. I’m really not good enough to be with you.” His voice wavered as tears started to inch into his eyes. Maybe finally accepting how shitty of a person he was and taking the first step away would be less damaging for Joan than to keep leading her on. “You deserve someone stronger, Jo…”

She deserves better than me. Way better.

He wilted as he saw disappointment fog onto Joan’s face. Her brows dropped and her lips pursed into a crooked line, the lower end dipping deep into her face. She picked at her nails, mulling over her thoughts.

She sniffed.

JFK’s eyes darted away from her when she unwaveringly met his gaze.

“Jack, hey, listen up,” To JFK’s dismay, Joan scooted closer to him, slipping a hand on his waist. “I don’t care what happened at that stupid party on Tuesday. I don’t care what anyone said about you this week. That was awful. All of it was. All of it was bullshit. Neither of us deserved what happened to us for just… being together. But you stood up for me today. You told off Cesar and Catherine and all I had to do was shut them up. You and I stood up against nearly the entire class today together. Fighting for each other. As a team. And now I’m-I’m here. I’m in your room. In your bed with you. Wanting to b-nah begging to be near you.”

She sighed crossly. “Cmon you know how I am. I don’t tolerate bullshit. If I didn’t like you or if I didn’t think you were good enough, I would NOT have saved your ass and I would NOT be here right now.”

Her expression and voice softened as she adoringly held her hands to his cheeks. “Your worthiness of me is for me to decide. And, if you let me, I um…” Joan lingered on the pause to stroke his cheeks with her thumbs, brushing a fresh tear as she did. “…I think you’re pretty worthy”

Joan gathered a hesitant Jack into her and hugged his head. She ran her fingers slowly through his thick hair and over his scalp. Jack felt himself shiver as her fingers traced across his head and neck. Her touch was… sinfully intoxicating to him. He found that his arms had coaxed themselves around her back to hold her loosely. He let his fingers trail along the nape of Joan’s exposed neck, feeling her peach fuzz hairs run under his fingernails. Her skin was so soft, silky even.

Jack’s heavy eyelids involuntarily drooped closed as Joan continued to gently caress him, cradling his head in her neck. Jack wanted to be excited about Joan being this close to him, but he was too full of guilt to let himself feel anything.

But if he could, Jack would choose to breathe only the air surrounding Joan for the rest of his life. He needed nothing more. She smelled like the sweet breeze in a thunderstorm after a long drought. And fragrantly musky, like incense smoke.

Familiar.

Safe.

Jack rebelled against the numbing guilt that filled him and pressed the bridge of his nose against her to fill himself with Joan’s rich scent. Just to feel a bit of comfort while it still surrounded him.

His eyes cracked open as Joan’s muscular back shifted under the sweatshirt she wore. Her voice was delicate, but purposeful.

“As you said way back in that moldy hallway, we've both got issues… but we can work through them together. We’ve started on mine and personally I think you’ve chipped away at me pretty well so far. In a good way. And I’m so grateful that you were persistent and-and patient with me because, man, I mean, like, look at me… Us.” Joan sentimentally scratched behind his ear. JFK’s bottom lip shook. “And I’d love for us to open up your issues too. That’s what I’m here for okay? I-I don’t wanna see you suffer alone in your head… Especially when you feel those freezes come up, okay? I’m here. And I’ll stay. For however long you um you need me. And you’re not, like, bothering me if you share those things that hurt you. I want to help you however I can. Please.” Joan squeezed him tighter, like she was afraid he would disappear.

Jack barely held back a whimper as he felt a gentle weight settle on his head. Joan’s cheek had nestled reassuringly onto his hair as Jack’s breath had started to noticeably quake again. “We can punch the crap out of people or-or just hold each other or talk or, y’know, whatever, whenever we need to. And I want to do those things with you, okay? Working together has gotten us so far. Even- even with all our mismatched and messed-up and ugly parts stuck messily together like some shitty art project.” Jack arms hugged Joan tighter, pulling her slowly into his increasingly spasming chest. She hugged back, “I like you so much, Jack. So much. And I just need you to know how much Ive really grown to trust you with holding all those… weird and… soft parts of me.” Joan moved to murmur sensitively into his forehead.

“Please let me do the same for you.”

Jack’s whole body trembled and his throat choked on his breath as he burrowed his shaking body and face as deeply as he could into Joan’s reassuring warmth.

Jack exploded into tears. He sobbed openly into her neck, the salty drops running freely down his cheeks to Joan’s shoulder supported beneath them. Joan continued to comfortingly caress his hair and his back and his shoulders and hummed sweet nothings to him as he cried out.

It was everything to Jack. He hadn’t ever had anyone hold his feelings so gently, with such importance. He hadn't ever let anyone know this side of him. He had just been shamed out of it time and time again, forced to confine himself within his fabricated self.

He craved safety. Safety to be open with himself and others.

And Joan’s arms and words were that safety. She let him feel okay to cry into her, knowing she understood him and the thoughts he harbored. Joan encouraged him to finally take a hold of himself and start to release the hurting bundle that had been packed so densely inside of him for so long.

The knot of pain, anger, loneliness, and fear unraveled by itself.

He took it piece by piece, bit by bit, and began to let it all go, holding Joan tightly against him as he did so.

-

Eventually Jack’s choking sobs eased and his breaths slowed. His body released its tension, easing into Joan with his nose still gently pressed into her skin.

The comfortable silence was only noted with Jack’s deep, steady breathing.

Joan sniffled. Jack felt her hand leave his neck and return, her own breath shaking unevenly. Jack gently laid one of his bent legs over her hips, cradling her close to him as she nestled her head lower onto his. Jack fondly pushed up into her, wanting to reciprocate her comfort.

His thumb brushed across her back.

“Thank you, Joanie”

Jack’s voice was hushed so low that Joan wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t cuddled up to her. Joan rubbed her teary face in his soft hair, hoping he wouldn’t mind it getting a little more messed up. She combed his fluffy tufts back and kissed his forehead, letting her lips linger on the spot for as long as they needed.

She felt him shift.

“I’ll er uh have ta take ya up on that uh punching the crap out of people business again sometime” Jack lined up his face with Joan’s, pulling his arms out from her and scooting his head up onto his pillow to do so.

JFK held her face in his hands, lovingly rubbing at her damp cheeks with his thumbs. Joan sheepishly nuzzled herself onto his touch, a wobbly grin warming onto her face.

Jacks hands slid down into hers. He held Joan’s hands in his and kissed them both along the backsides of her fingers.

JFK cocked his brows confidently. “Ya know I’m kinda n’ expert with that uh kinda thing” His face was flushed and blotchy, his cheek marked with lines from dried tears. Joan rubbed them off with the corner of the pillowcase he rested his head on. Despite their tired and reddened appearance, Jack’s eyes were now brimming with more of his usual energy.

Joan slid her hands back in his, drawing his large warm hands to her. She kissed his bandaged knuckles back. Joan held his hands against her chest. “Okay. But only when all this is healed up. Then it’ll be a date”. She smirked at Jack and he smirked back.

There he is.

Jack's eyes trailed down Joan’s face, down her freckled nose to her lips and up her flushed cheeks, settling on her tired eyes. He loved that her heavy lidded, half-mooned eyes mirrored his own. He studied the hairs of her brows and the old acne scars under her skin and the way the bridge of her nose was bent. Her grey eyes studied him back, but they were constantly magnetized back to just his eyes. Jack caught her and held her gaze. Joan squinted as she tried to suppress a grin, her cheeks glowing redder and the corners of her eyes pinching.

“You’re really pretty Jack”, Joan breathed.

Jack’s studious thoughts screeched to a halt. He felt like time had stopped as his brain carefully processed the words that had left Joan’s lips. His eyes flew wide as he stared into hers, blinking as he fully registered what just happened.

Pretty. I’m pretty. Joan thinks I’m pretty.

“Even…even afta cryin all ova ya, turnin on th’ waterworks an soakin ya like some kinda blubbery beet-faced bastard?”

Joan shrugged and rolled her eyes, a little embarrassed at letting that corny observation slip but smugly grinning about it nonetheless.

“What can I say, Jack? You got me wet” Her smirking teeth peeked through her teasing lips.

JFK felt like he was going to explode from how flustered Joan got him. The tingling sensation that filled his chest and stomach was delightfully overwhelming. He loved it.

Joan said I’m pretty. I’m pretty.

“Jo, that’s-that was supposed ta be MY line” Jack squeaked out. He could feel his entire face glow red.

Joan let out an enamored laugh and reached out to him. She stroked his burning cheeks with the backs of her cool fingers, holding them in place until they warmed up. She felt a tingling sensation trail along her arms and up her neck. Jack’s grinning eyes watched her from under his dark lashes. She traced down and across his strong jaw and watched it clench, pleasantly excited from her fingers’ feather-light touch.

She slipped down his soft neck with her fingertips. Slowing to a stop on the center of his chest, she splayed her hand flat and pressed it firmly into him. She felt his heart race and his breath hitch as she applied pressure.

Jack was stupefied by the comforting tidal wave that crashed over him from the gentle force and warmth of Joan’s palm and fingers. He let out a moan as he went slack, his eyes rolling closed.

I’m so pretty.

Jack breathed slowly and deeply, feeling his heart rate even out and his cheeks cool. He struggled to lift his heavy lids, happy with the idea of being like this forever but also longing to meet Joan’s alluring eyes again. He found her intently watching the hand on his chest.

Joan met his gaze smugly when she could feel his heart rate start pounding again.

“You like me or something, Jack?” Joan teased.

His betty was not about to get him again this time.

“You uh tryin’ta touch my tits, Jo?” Jack quipped back, waggling his brows. Joan fakely gasped, her eyes flying wide and her hand perching on her chest.

“What! I would NEVER” she stared at him, appalled.

Her eyes flicked down to his loose t-shirt.

JFK caught her by the wrists as her hands darted towards his chest. Joan snickered evilly as she twisted her arms, trying to peel him off of her. Jack tutted at her as he held her hands safely away from him, smirking widely.

All of the sudden, Joan tugged his locked hands towards her. Kennedy didn’t have a second to realize what was happening until Joan’s teeth clenched down on his hand.

“JOAN. OW.” JFK shook her off, his shocked flinch quickly morphing into playful scorn. “WHAT DO YOU THINK YER DOIN-”

Joan pressed her hand over Jack’s mouth, his hands still cuffed firmly around her wrists.

“Shhh shh, pretty boy. What? Are you disappointed I didn’t draw blood?”

JFK bit the inside of her hand.

Joan squeaked from surprise. She snickered toothily, releasing his mouth and settling back down on her pillow. Her teasing smirk melted into an adoring grin. She reached up to cup his face, pulling Jack’s locked hands along. She leaned forward and pecked his nose.

“I’ll bite harder next time for ya.”

JFK netted her in his gaze as she pulled away. Joan found herself held in place under his heavy-lidded stare. She knew she trusted whatever JFK chose to do next.

Her eyelids unintentionally fluttered as Jack closed his eyes, beginning to stroke the soft underside of her forearms with his thumbs. Joan was caught off-guard as he started to kiss slowly at her palms, holding her wrists gently in place as his textured lips made repeated rounds to both of her sensitive hands. She sighed, melting from the lovely new sensation that oozed from her palms to her chest.

She was hypnotized by him.

Him and his pretty face and his goofy and stupid and soft self.

He placed his fingertips under her scuffed chin and brought himself up to sweetly kiss her forehead and down the bent bridge of her nose and under her fluttering eyes. Joan’s hands stroked at the sides of his face as he kissed her, the wrappings around her hand scratching comfortingly along his soft skin. Jack sank into her touch with a low hum.

Joan sighed audibly as Jack caressed his arms around her lean body. One of his pleasantly rough hands trailed up and under the sweatshirt she wore as he began to explore around her bare back. He would alternate between using just his fingertips to rubbing his whole warm hand flattened against her, determined to appreciate every contour of her form. The other hand spread open around her head, Jack’s nails gently scratching across her scalp, sending an intoxicating shiver throughout Joan’s entire body.

It almost felt like prom night again. But yet… so different and so new at the same time.

The lovely shivery feeling became nearly overwhelming as Jack settled his weight on her and began eagerly kissing all over her face and her shoulders, again and again.

He didn’t miss a single inch.

Jack would occasionally pause to catch his breath, taking the opportunity to brush his panting lips against the grinning corners of hers before intensely resuming his outpouring. Joan breathed him in deeply as he smothered her in sweet pecks and his hand ceaselessly felt around her muscular backside. She found that her arms had wrapped themselves around his neck, following along to his movements as he laid over her.

Joan was fully willing to admit something impossible to herself; she loved being held by Jack. It was unlike anything she thought it could be like. No, it was so SO much better. She felt so adored when she was wrapped in his embrace, being showered with the affection and connection she never thought she deserved. He broke her out of her norm by whisking her up, doing things with her and experiencing things that gave Joan immense excitement to see what would happen the next day. Jack saw straight through to her, past her prickly protective shell. Joan felt seen. Seen as a unique living being in this crazy world. A being worthy of feeling known and safe amongst all the chaos.

Jack helped her accept that truth about herself, even before they had gotten together.

Joan giggled delightedly as Jack flopped down onto her and rubbed his cheek into hers. He groaned low as he nuzzled in deeply, gathering her up tightly in his arms to smush their faces together. Joan hummed in response, pressing back into him. She could feel the fat grin stretched on his face as they snugly mushed cheeks.

If Jack was paying attention to Joan’s heart rate as they laid there together, nuzzling into and quietly giggling at the other, she knew he would’ve made fun of her for the rest of the night.

As Jack laid back on his pillow, Joan held onto his arm. Her face dropped as Jack’s gentle eyes gazed at her.

“I can’t let us get caught up in something like that today or, or this week ever again. That was awful. You didn't deserve a word of what they said to you.” Jack’s brows scrunched and his mouth went crooked, eyeing her with some lingering apprehension. “Seriously. I’m so sorry that any of that happened Jack.”

Joan gently coaxed his hand open. She met his fingertips with hers and spread his fingers back. Joan returned to his now-exposed palm and stroked it sensitively with her nails. The hairs on his neck stood on end.

“Er-uh Joanie I’m so sorry I uh kinda messed up with all this. An’ fer not factorin’ in yer fears an’ anxiety with stuff. Dick move on my end. I’m uh I’m gonna do better. I’ll be tryin’ t’be more in tune with ya, I swear on it Jo.” Jack murmured. He closed the hand Joan was studying, holding up just his pinkie finger. Joan squeezed her own slender pinkie around it, nodding steadily.

“Thanks Jack”

She resumed playing with Jack’s fingers as he opened his hand back up. “I’m er uh sorry you had to see any of that fight today at all but uh I’m really glad ya showed up”

With his free hand, Jack stroked his fingers through Joan’s hair and scratched at her scalp, careful to avoid her tender spot. It earned him another contented sigh from Joan, whose eyes had fluttered shut. The hand that was stroking his palm now rested on it.

“Er-uh I was a fish inna barrel out there. I uh don’t wanna know how it woulda ended if ya didn’t show up. And I’m uh really glad ya did.”

He draped his large palm over her soft cheek. Jack stroked his thumb gently over her closed eyelids, carefully brushing her lashes and fragile skin. Joan didn’t flinch.

Joan softened into him and offered more of her face and neck for him to hold. Jack happily obliged.

He studiously stroked and traced every contour, every freckle, every scuff, scar, and scrape along her exposed skin with his fingertips. He caressed her cheeks ever so gently and scratched at the nape of her neck. His fingertips trailed lightly over her skin, feeling her soft peach fuzz hair move under them. JFK’s warm thumbs came to a rest together on her lips. His stomach fluttered overwhelmingly as she kissed them.

He was her‘s.

He nuzzled down into her neck from his excitement, his hands fondling her soft back again. Jack’s embrace elicited a satisfying hum from Joan as she pushed herself up into him. Jack traced his lips along her cheekbones and jaw. He held in place for an extra moment when he could, just to feel her shiver from his excited breaths on her skin.

God he had never been so lucky.

Joan’s arms slid around his chest and neck, hugging Jack against her. Joan’s voice was feather-light as she murmured to him.

“I’m always here for you, Jack”

JFK closed his eyes, grinning as another wave of tingly butterflies rushed through his body, and breathed in her scent. He hugged on her hip with his bent knee, swaying gently on it. The hand around her head stroked her ear as he kissed slowly at her jaw.

“…Ya matter so much, Joanie” he cooed. “Y‘deserve so much”

Their hands moved almost in tandem as they massaged slow circles and traced little shapes on the opposites’ back.

Round and round.

Square. Triangle. A set of lines.

The pair hung there together for what felt like hours, appreciating the tenderly quiet moment, lingering on the sweet closeness they shared.

Jack returned his hand to her cheek as he settled his head back onto the pillow they now shared. She slid her small hand up and over his, meeting his fingertips. Jack’s breath hitched when she nestled her fingers between his.

“I’m really glad you’re my friend, Jack. And by friend I mean partner,” Joan hummed again, soaking in the warmth around her. “‘cause I like you. LIKE like you. A lot. And I hope you know that” She tenderly kissed the base of his palm as it rested low on her cheek.

If Jack wasn’t laying down he would’ve crashed to the floor from that little gesture. He was relieved she had her eyes closed as he marveled at her. He was certain he had stars in his eyes.

Jack pulled in a deep breath, tracing his gaze over the person under his palm, and took in the entirety of her being. Jack finally knew he found what he didn’t even know he had been looking for. Joan: a fiery and unyielding gal with an unexpectedly soft and loving underbelly. And she truly wanted to know him. Him. The real Jack along with anything else, good or bad, that was a part of him. And in turn, she was eager to share her own hidden vulnerabilities with Jack, letting him wrap around her to listen even closer to her fragile secrets.

They were a pair of confidantes.

He was safe with her.

And she was safe with him.

Who knew the chance Joan took on Jack at prom on those steps would’ve led to this. Not even he saw it coming. Not in his wildest dreams.

Jack caught himself grinning like an idiot. Like the silly sensitive idiot he accepted himself to be.

Maybe I do like me. He chuckled internally. Pretty lil’ me.

“Well er-uh…” he cuddled her even closer, closing any gaps between their bodies. He wiggled up to whisper breathily to her, “…I’m really glad ya like me…” Jack snugly wrapped his arms around her chest and waist and intertwined his legs with hers, locking Joan in place. He tucked his face as deeply as he could into her red hair, his targeted breath making Joan’s shoulder involuntarily twitch to cover her exposed neck. Joan was completely smushed against Jack’s body, grinning from the feeling of his suspiciously snug clutch around her.

Joan let out an amused giggle as she grabbed a fistful of Jack’s bunched shirt, bracing for whatever he was about to do.

Jack’s warm breath purred coyly into her ear.

“…‘cause I’m uh really glad you’re my sweet little ‘Joanie-Wonie’”

Joan cursed through her hysterical laughter as Jack pinned her thrashing body in place under his weight, attacking at her ticklish waist and kissing wetly into her sensitive neck.

Jack had finally exacted his long-awaited revenge.

And Joan was more than happy to take what she deserved and dish it right back.

Chapter Text

[This is one of the last bits I outlined. It's far from polished, but I still think it's sweet]

Quiet little poetic interlude of them retrieving and cleaning JFK’s car

About 4 am in the morning. Dragged each other out of bed and into the night.

Drove in Joan’s car over to lot. Brought JFK’s dads big ass vacuum.

It’s chilly out. JFK wearing Joan’s oversized black hoodie. Joan wearing Jacks letter jacket with black sweats.

Sighs sadly as they stand there together looking at trashed car under street lights.

They glanced at each other. They would fix it together.

Toss all the books n memorabilia and such in the trash/donation boxes. Joan flipping through book about JFK. finds pic of og JFK next to statue/effigy of St Joan of Arc. Excitedly shows Jack.

Look it’s us :)) well not really haha but still weird huh. Side hugs JFK and leans into him as they hold the picture together.

You like this bozo? Jokingly points to himself in pic who is slightly older than current Jack, maybe in his early twenties. little tense about seeing it. Can feel the existentialism creep in.

No, Joan jabs him playfully. I like this bozo. Kisses his cheek. I like you. Squeezes his hand and goes back to cleaning and tossing.

Jack watches her and then returns his gaze to the picture. He feels nothing looking at JFK.

Nothing.

Nothing but the cool early morning air and the friendly ghost of Joan’s lips on his cheek.

Chapter Text

[This one was an idea I was playing with later on. Abe deserves better than being villainized all the time and parts of it are sweet.]

Abe spies on Joan and JFK constantly after they defeated the mob of students, going so far as to follow them home to JFKs place and peering into the windows, Joan spooning JFK both passed out with a movie playing,

Abe peeking thru bedroom window on roof to catch them cuz he’s really grasping at straws at this point(confirmation bias), gets bored cuz they’re not doing anything,

rain starts, miserable,

the pair catches his attention as he hears thumping and yelling, JFK and Joan are shoving each other around the bed as hard as they can and getting caught in blankets and clashing shoulders, Joan s pushing JFK as hard as she can straining, JFK suddenly moves out of her way and she goes flying off the bed and crashing to the floor,

JFK scrambles off the bed after her out of sight, he comes back and flops dramatically on the bed with Joan limp being fireman carried in his arms and her eyes closed and tongue out, JFK is fake weeping and shakes Joan around, she’s obviously trying not to laugh and keep her dead composure,

Jfk suddenly squeezes her torso extremely tight in his crossed arms making Joan force out a squeak and her eyes fly open, he tosses her down and pins her down on the bed under his chest and blows raspberries into her neck making her yelp and scream-laugh and kick her knees against him,

she locks her own arms around him and forces them upright only to toss them both still latched onto the other back onto the pillow they were laying on earlier,

Theyre both laughing, Joans hands envelop his cheeks and kisses Jack, she pulls away and JFK looks like he’s malfunctioned, his face is blank staring up at her with the slighted smirk twitching onto his lips, he comes up to meet her lips, his arms caressing around her and rubbing at her back and feeling her shoulders and pinching at her waist under her shirt and they sink back into the soft blankets,

Joan nestled herself on top of his chest and puts her arms around his body and nuzzles down into him, JFK nuzzled back along her crown and kisses her forehead, Jack pulls the blankets up to Joan’s shoulders, he brushes her hair with one hand and the other swipes sensitively at her back, JFK is whispering things to Joan making her grin and giggle, the grin get weaker as she slowly gets pulled to sleep laying on top of Kennedy,

Joan NEVER fell asleep that fast, she went to that sleepaway camp for a reason,

he’s still stroking her hair, Abe can see him contentedly grin the widest he’s ever seen, JFK looks like hes about to cry, still grinning, as he looks down at Joan in his arms, a happy tear escapes his eye and he leans his head forward so his lips can rest on her crown,

Abe suddenly felt… conflicted seeing them… work,

he’s only seen Kennedy cry once before and it was in his own arms and it was genuine,

maybe… JFK has been completely genuine this whole time?

Abe ripped his gaze away from the window and leaned against the vinyl siding as warm rain spat down at him,

JFK’s demeanor had stayed the same but it reprogrammed itself to adapt to Joan and what she needed, he’s still strong and stupid and hard headed and vain and full of innuendos but now he’s learned to accommodate for the person he loves not out of obligation but because he loves her, He didn’t change for Joan but instead refined himself. As iron turns to steel, he’d risen into the best (and most stainless) version of himself,

Abe rested his chin on his arms crossed over his knees, no wonder Joan was so into him, no wonder why she came down from the high of being with Abe so easily, why would she, the best person Abe has ever met, settle for anything less than what she deserves, and she deserves the world, and Abe hated admitting it to himself but it was JFK that swooped in to become that world and more just for her, Joan got the ultimate authentic form of JFK and JFK got the most elusively loving version of Joan.

Abe’s jealousy for JFK was replaced with a regretful admission of defeat.

‘What the hell am I doing’

Abe starts to defeatedly slide back down the roof to the ladder he propped up, the rain made the roof slippery and he went careening off the edge, plummeting to the ground.

Ouch.

Abe checked himself for any broken bones. None. That’s good. As he got up he realized he was caked with mud and sod and was soaking wet, car doesn’t start up in rain,

Abe slogs back to porch of JFK’s house and rings the doorbell feeling an overwhelming amount of guilt and embarrassment. Wally opened the door and beckoned the miserable looking clone inside.

He handed him some towels and started up a kettle for coffee. Abe wiped himself clean and dry as best he could and removed his swampy shoes.

He turned and froze when he saw JFK and Joan creeping on the stairs. They looked groggy and shared a large blanket that was shrouded snugly around both their shoulders.

Abe waved warily avoiding their unwelcome glares and went to graciously collect the hot coffee offered by Wally. He laid a towel on the loveseat in the den and sat down on it, the other towel around his shoulders. Joan and JFK moved in tandem under their large blanket to position themselves together on the adjacent couch. They stared coldly at Abe.

“Whaddya doin here Lincoln” JFK’s accent was thick when he was tired.

“Car broke down in the rain. And I really ate it trying to get help” he picked a grass blade off his damp shirt.

“Despite my er uh gay dads lettin ya in, I’ll have ya know that y’aren’t welcome here. Next time we uh see yer lanky mug here-“

“-we’ll pound your ass into ground beef. And eat it raw. K? Understand?”

“An’ tell yer new buds that too. Joan’s gonna er uh give up vegetarianism ta rip ya a new one” Joan and JFK snickered at each other.

Abe nodded in understanding looking down at his reflection in the dark coffee. He wanted to be better too.

In his peripheral he watched Joan wiggle into JFKs arms under the huge blanket. He bear hugged her and kissed Joan’s temple, thinking Lincoln couldn’t see.

It hurt. A lot. Seeing such an unlikely set of people, a friend and an enemy, work out so well. He felt awful for what he did.

“For what it’s worth I’d like to say I’m… sorry. To the both of you. For what I did.” He scratched anxiously at his short beard. He heard JFK scoff. “I uhm don’t expect either of you to forgive me, especially you Joan. But I hope you can understand that.. I recognize what I’ve done. I know that it was wrong. I was making excuses for things that were my own fault. I was so.. blinded by my jealousy. I should’ve been honest and up front with myself about the source of my envy but I wasn’t and you both paid that price. I just hope that at the very least maybe you both will choose not to beat me into a featureless pulp on Monday”. He sniffed and thumbed at the handle on the mug.

The trio sat in gloomy silence with Abe occasionally clinking his nails on the enameled mug. Joan and JFK side-eyed each other, communicating wordlessly.

Joan turned to Abe and cleared her throat. “What about Ceasar and Catharine. Are they gonna fucking stop whatever bullshit they’re planning?”

Abe’s eyes flew wide “How did you know about that?” “Yeah. It’s uh pretty obvious. And we uh got th inside scoop. Yer still in on it?” “I-I was but they got too out of hand a-and I left befo-“

[and thats it folks! sorry for the cliffhanger, but i feel theres no better way to end a Clone High fic. I miss JoanFK like nothing else :( Hope this could fill the emptiness some of you are also feeling. Thanks for the love over the years folks.]