Jamie stood in front of Matt's door, balancing a tray of cookies in his hands and a storm in his chest.
He exhaled slowly, telling himself it was simple. Go in, give Matt the cookies, say thank you, get out. Simple.
He even practiced the smile, polite, not too bright, friendly enough.
But the moment the door swung open, that plan went straight to hell.
Because it wasn't Matt.
It was Jett.
A shirtless Jett, jeans slung low on his hips, the band of his Calvin Klein underwear peeking out as if he'd stepped straight out of a bad idea.
For a split second, they just stared at each other, surprise flickering first in Jett's eyes, followed by a slow, lazy smirk.
"Well, look who's at my door." Jett drawled.
"It's not your door." Jamie scoffed.
His gaze dragged down, deliberate, from Jamie's face to the tray in his hands, and back up again. "What's up, sweetheart?"
Jamie blinked, recovering fast. "Your shirt, apparently. Up and off your shoulders. Now move."
He shoved past him, not exactly gently. The tray wobbled, and Jett's quiet laugh trailed after him like smoke.
Inside, the living room smelled faintly of cologne and pizza grease. Jamie looked around, empty. No sight of Matt.
He turned, already irritated. "Where's Matt?"
"I don't know." Jett said, leaning against the wall like sin made casual. "Probably jerking off his meat."
Jamie's face twisted in disgust. "That's disgusting."
"If you say so, sweetheart."
"I'm not your sweetheart." Jamie shot back automatically.
"You are." Jett said easily, his smirk deepening.
"You are so damn arrogant with that stupid face of yours. Don't think I've forgiven for what you did last week." Jamie said as he eyed Jett up and down like he was trash.
The sight offended Jett. "But I already apologized, what else do you want?."
Jamie scoffed. "I wasn't in my right mind when you apologized, I'm still very much mad at you."
"You were so nice to me yesterday, what the hell happened now?" Jetta asked, confused as to why Jamie was suddenly behaving like he had a stick up his ass.
"That wasn't me being nice. I was just being matured because I didn't want to start unnecessary, useless fight in front of Jace."
"Okay fine, then I'm going to keep apologizing till you forgive me." Jett declared.
Jamie rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. "Whatever floats your boat. Where's Matt?"
"Why're you asking for Matt?" Jett tilted his head. "I'm here."
Jamie gave him a flat look. ''Because Matt lives here. You don't. And can you please put a shirt on? You're making me uncomfortable."
That earned him another grin, one that bordered on teasing. "Sure thing. But first, what are the cookies for?"
Jamie hesitated, trying not to look at the way Jett was still annoyingly unbothered. "Well... Jace is finally feeling better, and I haven't had the time to properly thank Matt for his help, so I brought him cookies."
"Only for Matt?" Jett frowned slightly, straightening up. "What about me?"
"I don't know." Jamie said, raising a brow. "What about you?"
"I was there too. That night."
Jamie blinked, then gave a small shrug. "Right....I guess you can have some too."
Jett scoffed, disbelief flashing across his face. "Really, sweetheart?"
There was something different in his tone this time, not quite anger, not quite teasing.
Jamie noticed it but didn't comment. He just exhaled, setting the tray down on the coffee table.
"You're impossible." Jamie muttered under his breath.
"And you're fun when you're annoyed." Jett shot back.
Jamie ignored him, eyes flicking briefly toward the kitchen. He was about to call out for Matt again when he felt Jett's presence behind him, close enough to sense the heat radiating off his bare skin.
"Can I ask you something?" Jett's voice dropped lower, softer.
Jamie tensed, glancing over his shoulder. 'Depends."
Jett's gaze fell to Jamie's wrist, the faint bruise peeking out from beneath the sleeve of his hoodie. He didn't reach out, didn't touch, but his tone changed completely.
"What happened to your hand?"
Jamie froze. His mouth opened, then closed. "It's nothing."
"Doesn't look like nothing."
"It is." His voice was sharper now, defensive.
Jett studied him, the way Jamie's fingers twitched, how his eyes darted away. The usual spark in Jett's face dimmed slightly, replaced by something quieter.
"It's okay if you don't want to tell me, sweetheart." he said, and this time the word didn't sound like teasing.
It sounded like something else.
Something almost protective.
"Just... don't let any fucker think they have the right to hurt you and get away with it."
Jamie's throat tightened. He didn't know how to respond, because for once, Jett wasn't mocking him. He wasn't even smirking.
He was just looking at him, eyes steady and careful, voice low enough to almost feel safe.
Before Jamie could say anything, they heard footsteps descending from the stairs.
"Hey Jett, do you know if- wait, what's going on here?" Matt's voice broke the air, casual and loud.
He stopped halfway through the stairs, eyes darting between Jett and Jamie. "Why does this look like a scene from a telenovela?"
Jamie jumped slightly, stepping away. "Nothing. I just came to drop these off."
Matt grinned, oblivious. "Ah, cookies! You're the best, Jamie." He swooped past Jett to grab one off the tray, already munching. "You didn't have to- wait, are these chocolate chips?"
"Yeah."Jamie muttered, brushing it off, tugging his sleeve down, he finally turned to face Jett. "No one's abusing me, by the way." He said, barely above a whisper.
"Huh?" Matt frowned, mouth full. "What?"
"Nothing." Jamie said quickly, and before Jett could say a word, Jamie punched him lightly in the shoulder.
It wasn't hard, more playful than angry, but it caught Jett completely off guard.
"The hell was that for?" Jett blinked, rubbing the spot.
Jamie's lips curved, faint but genuine. "For what you did last week. And I'm not your sweetheart." he said, tone clipped but teasing, and then he turned on his heel and walked out before anyone could stop him.
The door shut behind him with a soft click, leaving the faint smell of cookies and a thick silence in his wake.
For a second, Jett just stood there, staring at the door. His shoulder still tingled where Jamie's hand had connected, and against all reason, he caught himself smiling.
From behind him, Matt whistled low. "You sure you guys got nothing going on?"
"Shut the fuck up, Matt."
"Mm-hm." Matt hummed, reaching for another cookie. "If you say so."
Jett ignored him, rolling his shoulder once. The grin lingered anyway, stubborn and small, as he sank onto the couch.
He looked at the tray of cookies, neat, thoughtful, domestic, the total opposite of the chaos inside him.
Then, almost under his breath, he muttered,
"I'm fucked."