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Hailey wakes up to Jay’s grin on her phone screen, the familiar chime of a FaceTime call pulling her from sleep.
Street lights spilling into the dim hotel room tell her it's dark out, and she slides across the screen to answer, trying to look more awake than she feels.
Of course, he doesn't buy it, not that she expected him to. He knows what she looks like, fresh from sleep, even if it was only one night.
She expects a greeting as the call connects and his face fills her screen, but all she hears is his easy, low chuckle.
She groans, but it just turns into a sleepy grin as he finally quiets down. She shifts, sitting up in bed and dragging a hand through her hair. The dim lighting hides the sleep sins, the pillow crease she knows is marking her cheek.
“I didn't mean to wake you up,” he says, his voice quiet and reverent enough it sends a warm chill through her as she finds her voice.
“I didn't mean to fall asleep,” she whispers, fluffing a pillow under her elbow and getting comfy.
“Long day?”
They haven't talked as much today as usual — OA had called her in early, and they had hit the ground running, basically literally. And by the time she'd even glanced at her phone, there had been a couple of texts from Jay. She’d responded, but he'd been in court, handling her subpoenas.
She nods. “And early,” she tells him, glancing at the clock. She'd stumbled back to the hotel about an hour ago, not meaning to fall asleep. But the bed was right there, and she so rarely ever thought I want to nap… so she had.
“You? How was court?”
“Did you know it's possible to actually die from boredom?” he asks, really the only answer needed. “So, you owe me.”
“Didn’t realize I was talking to your ghost. You look pretty good still.” She tries to stifle the yawn, but it edges out around the words, and instead of answering, he just grins.
“You want me to let you go back to sleep?”
His tone is sweet, gentle if a touch teasing, and god, she misses him. It feels silly to think when she's staring right at him, but the miles between them are long, and her bed is empty, and now that she knows what it's like to have him in it…
She just misses him.
“No,” she whispers. “I wanna talk to you.”
He hmmms out a response, a little distracted, and it's only then that she really focuses on the screen and not just on his voice.
He's in his dress blues, his jacket hung up in the coat closet behind him. The phone jolts a little as he switches hands and reaches up to loosen his tie, and he makes a face as he rights it, the focus solely back on him now.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, but it's lost on her as she watches him relax back onto his couch. He could easily have changed before he called her, she knows how much he hates the formality of the uniform. But he didn't, and something about it makes her smile, lazy and slow.
“What?” He asks, laughter flirting at the edges.
She shakes her head. “You could've taken time to change, y’know.”
He shrugs. “Too much work… and I wanted to talk to you.”
She can't stop the grin that sneaks across her face, or the way her heart races and her body flushes at his words. They're innocent, but they're honest, and if the last few weeks of near-constant long-distance contact has taught her anything, it's that the moments Jay is his most genuine, his sweetest, are the ones she loses herself in the most.
“I mean,” she shrugs, trying to play it off like she isn't absolutely serious, “you could just change now. You know. If you want.”
His laugh echoes through the speakers and out into the room around her. She wants to feel the heady rush of his exhale against her skin, wants to cocoon herself in the sound, nestled in a tent of bedsheets to hide their flushed bodies.
They're quiet for a moment, the silence easy and lived in, in a way she's always hoped for, but never thought she'd get, especially not across a staticky phone line.
“I could,” he allows, his voice quiet still, but slightly huskier now. “But we both know how that would end.”
She raises an eyebrow. She's pretty sure she knows, and watching him, she knows it wouldn't take that much convincing to get her way.
He worries at his bottom lip, that quiet tug that means he's biting back words. But as heady as his gaze makes her feel, as flushed as his words make her, his silence always makes her brave.
“You'd still be home, not here,” she whispers, and 800 miles away, he nods. “And I'd still be here, wanting you.”
He nods again, and she watches his throat bob as he swallows.
“But I mean,” she grins, “I'm not gonna be that mad about it if you wanna take some clothes off.”
His laugh is quick, his fingers nimble as he moves to loosen his tie more.
“Oh no, of course not. Don't think you'd have any feelings about it at all.”
“Nah,” she says, and the quiet settles around her again. She stretches and pillows her head on her arm, letting her gaze drift upward to the window, busy traffic below drawing her attention like it does most nights.
“How's your view tonight?” His voice sounds slightly farther away — too far, always — and when she looks back at the screen, he's propped the phone up to roll up his dress shirt sleeves.
“Come on,” she sighs. “Now you're just being rude for no reason.”
“What?” He laughs, switching to his other arm, and she just shakes her head. He absolutely knows what he's doing.
She just rolls her eyes. “My view is fine.”
He looks expectant for a second. “Wanna show me?”
“Sure. You see that little box in the lower right-hand corner? Guy might look a little familiar?”
It takes him half a second, but his groan is prize enough for her corny joke.
“Your view is only fine? I’m a little offended. Should I just hang up?”
“Don't you dare,” she laughs, but it turns into another yawn she can't hide, the words jumbled on the edges.
He's watching her when she opens her eyes a moment later, and they've been doing this too many nights in a row now for her not to know that look.
She nestles further into the down comforter, dragging the phone closer like it'll bring him within reach.
“I should go shower off the court grunge—”
“Feel free to bring me with you,” she murmurs, and even to her own ears, it sounds sleepy.
“— And you should go back to sleep while you can,” he finishes, his tone deep, decadent, and she wants to drown in it even if they aren't words she wants to hear.
The tone tells her he’s going to think of nothing but her in that shower, and she'll settle for that if nothing else.
But still —
“I don't want to,” she whispers, her words making his lazy smile match her own.
“I know. But I'll make it up to you in…” he trails off, and she watches him try to do the math.
“Too many days,” she fills in, because she'll talk to him, see his easy grin, tomorrow and a million more after, but he won't be close enough to touch for too many.
He frowns, but it's sweet still, tells her she isn't alone.
He starts to say something, but she holds up a finger, one sec, and he pauses.
She clicks a couple of buttons and then nods for him to continue. But he just watches her instead.
“Had to take a picture of you in your dress blues,” she explains over his laughter. “You know, to get me through the long, cold nights.”
He just shakes his head, but it's fond.
“Have a good sleep, Hailey.”
“Have a good shower, Jay,” she grins, winking, and she's going to carry the sound of his laughter straight into her dreams. She raises her hand to wave goodnight, but his voice stops her.
“Hey, one sec,” he whispers. She can tell by the concentration on his face that he's fiddling with the phone.
“Okay,” he smiles. “Goodnight, Hailey.”
“Night, Jay.”