. Summary: Set just before season one, it is an altered version of the series in which three friends, Joey, Pacey, and Dawson are actually friends instead of just “friends.” Warning contains cheese.  Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

His backpack lie abandoned in the corner a spew of crumbled papers fluttering to the floor like a winter holiday. Her shoes balanced against the wall, set up during a bout of boredom, a good three minute diversion as she warily set one shoe on top of the other. His coat hung on his desk the right sleeve pooling on the floor while the left one wrapped around an old baseball trophy, clinging for dear life. The Lord of the Flies had been discarded landing like a tent against his floor on top of a dirty ball of socks, a few pages folding to accommodate the lump. 

Yet the only scene out of place in the room was the two teens on the bed, they’re hands moving awkwardly across their clothed shoulders, they’re tongues dueling in an amateur battle. She pulled away catching her breath, “Pacey, what are we doing.” 

Licking his lips he leaned in to kiss her again, “If you need it explained to you maybe this isn’t the best thing for us to be doing.” 

She braced her hands against his chest stopping him before his mouth could reach hers, “I know that,” she said dumbly. “Why?” She elaborated. 

He swept his nose across hers, teasing his lips against hers before he spoke, “I was walking you home,” he caught her lower lip between his teeth. “And you offered to finish our little study session.” 

“Right,” she nodded letting her fingers slip behind his neck. 

“And I was reading like a good little boy for a good ten minutes,” he lips brushed against hers again, the heat radiating between their breath. “When you asked me why I kissed you in the hospital.” His hand ran down her side pulling her closer, “And I said that I didn’t know, but that I wanted to kiss you again.” 

“Yes,” she pulled her head back only far enough to look him in the eye, “which means you never answered my first question to begin with.” 

He stubbornly leaned back in to catch her lips, “Which was?” 

“Why did you kiss me?” She said dumbly. 

“Because,” he muffled her protests in another kiss. 

“Pacey,” she groaned pushing him away again. 

“Why is it so important to have an answer to everything?” He asked, “Why don’t we just let our burgeoning teenage hormones run wild and deal with the consequences later.” 

“Because,” she refuted simply. 

“See, now who’s dodging questions,” he cracked a cocky grin. 

“Don’t turn this on me,” she slipped her fingers behind his ears tugging lightly on his ear lobe. 

“I’m not,” he pressed his forehead against hers, “so what’s the problem?” 

“Nothing I guess,” she said taking his lips in hers. 

He rolled her flat against the mattress holding his weight on his forearms as he tongue delved deeply into her mouth allowing a low growl to roll off deeply from his throat. 

Her hands journeyed under his shirt scrapping her fingernails fiercely across his taught chest from beneath the fabric. He lowered his lips along her jaw letting his tongue tease over the sensitive flesh of her neck breathing cool air where his teeth gently grazed the skin. 

“Pacey,” she moaned. A light smirk crossed his lips, “Pacey,” she repeated. He nuzzled his face deeper in the crook of her neck, “The time is now 6:15 on this beautiful Tuesday morning and as fall approaches the chilly air does as well leaving Capeside at a brisk 44 degrees,” he narrowed his eyes. “This is your DJ Charley Charlie giving you the top stories along with the top charts on Capeside’s one and only local station Cool 91.5.” 

Shaking his head he jumped from his slumber his sheets wrapped firmly around his feet like a ball and chain. Running his hand through his muzzled hair, his tired eyes glanced down at his buzzing radio now filled with some oldies rock tune before he fell back against his pillow squeezing his eyes shut. 

~*~

“You look awfully tired this morning,” Jen said shutting her locker tight as she adjusted her backpack on her shoulder. 

He rubbed his red eyes, “I had that dream again.” 

“The one that involves you, Joey, and a new set of sheets?” Jen cocked a brow. 

“That’s the one,” he laughed as they headed into the cafeteria. 

“So what are you going to do about it?” 

“Seclude it to shower time fantasy files?” 

She rolled her eyes, “No, talk to her about it.” 

“I really don’t see the point, I mean although rejection is my forte, I don’t overall enjoy it.” 

“Pace you’re never going to get the girl if you don’t put yourself out there for rejection.” 

He chewed on his inner cheek, Jen looked at him stubbornly, “So what are you going to do about it?” 

“Do?” He asked incredulously, “See Jen you’re still relatively new here so I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt,” he set his hand on her shoulder. “We are a very non-confrontational tribe of people, who let our inner emotions build to overload until our teen angst is so dreadfully overwhelming that it all just bursts into one fascinatingly dramatic climax, the fall our leaving seasons worth of resonation. It’s a clichéd concept, I know, but it works just fine for us.” 

She shook her head, “You people are so yellow, you talk and talk and show off your immaculate vocabulary but you never act on anything.” 

“So?” He slid into a chair. 

She groaned sitting next to him, “You’re so frustrating.” 

Joey inspected her fruit salad, the oxidation on the apple slices dreadfully unappealing, the rotting grapes beginning to resemble raisins as she glanced over at the tables catching sight of Pacey and Jen deep in conversation. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Dawson snapped her out of her trance. 

“What?” She cleared her throat nervously. 

“You had this,” he motioned to his face, “look that’s all.” 

She shook her head, “Just trying to figure out what kind of meat they’re serving today.” 

He lowered his nose to her tray inhaling the mysterious slice before cringing his nose, “Tough call.” 

She looked back over at the lunch table trying to remain inconspicuous, “Looks like Pacey's silicone crush has returned with a vengeance." 

Dawson glanced over at them, "Jen?" He questioned, "I thought you two were finally getting along." 

"I was being accepting," Joey said bitterly, "not welcoming." 

He narrowed his eyes, "You're not still on your Witter infatuation, are you?" 

She scoffed, "Hardly, it was a momentary lapse of insanity, simple as that, I don't even know what I was thinking, I mean Pacey—." 

"You are, aren't you," he cut off. 

She blushed, bowing her head, "I can't help it," she said sheepishly, "the other day we were flirting like crazy and then the whole hospital thing happened, and he kissed me." She smiled softly, “But now he’s acting all weird.” 

“What do you mean by that?" He asked as they headed off the lunch line, taking a seat at Pacey and Jen's table. 

Joey sat beside Pacey his eyes refusing to meet hers before he cleared his throat climbing to his feet, "I've got to go, uh, make up some test," he said unbelievably before heading out of the cafeteria. 

"I see what you mean," Dawson muttered under his breath. 

She directed her glare towards Jen, "Joey could I talk to you?" 

She scoffed incredulously kicking her chair behind her as she stood, "I’m sorry, my subscription to YM got lost in the mail. So whatever shallow male crisis you're in the middle of this week just isn't my problem." 

Still shocked Jen watched the brunette as she stalked across the lunch room. Dawson chuckled lightly, "She doesn't handle jealousy well." 

"Tell me about it." 

~*~

The bell hadn't rung yet, but she still found herself plowing through her history classroom in a stubborn fury. Tendrils of hair obscured her vision, her backpack tangled around her arms like a straight jacket, and it became dreadfully obvious to Joey Potter that she was having a bad day. 

His hands stopped her struggle resting on her shoulders before freeing her from her bag. She froze at the heat of his hands as they ran down her arms, "What's wrong with you?" 

Snapping away from him she narrowed her eyes, whipping around to look at him, "What do you think you're doing?" 

"Trying to make you feel better," he said innocently. 

She scoffed, "Well if I wanted to contract and STD I'd surely ask you to console me, but right now I'm quite fine, thank you very much." 

"Calm down lady," Chris raised his hands, "I don't know why I bother." 

She folded her arms across her chest, "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"Have you looked in the mirror lately, women activist aren't my cup of tee," he caught a lose strand of hair with his finger, "though the virginal innocence does have it's perks." 

She shook him away, "And what pray tell is your type?" She didn't know why the words slipped off her tongue; perhaps the male perspective in general was all she needed. 

He raised and inquisitive brow, his grin turning to a sly smirk, "Good girls gone bad are terribly sexy," he winked. "But guys want a girl who they know can have a little fun, who are willing to show them a good time." 

She scowled, "That is so not true." 

He chuckled, "Then where's your boyfriend Little Joey Potter." 

More students began to filter through the classroom as the second bell rang. Joey frowned slipping into her seat, maybe he was right. 

~*~ 

The breeze rustled through his window and he glanced up at the sound of the creaking ladder wondering who it was. Jen stumbled through the window quickly climbing to her feet, "I don't think I'll ever get used to that sudden turn,” she said rubbing her head. 

Dawson chuckled, “It’s a skilled practice.” 

“I bet,” she said. 

“So what brings you my way?” He asked. 

“Nothing better to do I guess,” she shrugged. 

“Thanks.” 

“No,” she quickly refuted, “it’s just, Joey hates me and Pacey lives so much farther away.” 

He chortled lightly, “Not helping.” 

“Right,” she nodded. 

Dawson cocked a brow, “So what’s going on with you and Pacey?” 

She laughed, “What do you mean?” Quickly she caught on, “Is this about Joey? Did Joey ask you to ask me?” 

He shrugged his shoulders casually, “Why would Joey ask me to ask you anything that had to do with Pacey?” 

“I don’t know, perhaps you know something that I don’t.” 

He caught onto her game, “Well maybe you’ve been huddled around with a very peculiar acting Pacey J. Witter for the same reason?” 

They both held a stubborn gaze before Jen erupted in laughter, “Truth is Pacey’s scared because he likes Joey and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.” 

Dawson smirked, “Same here.” 

She sat beside him on the bed, “People can be so frustrating sometimes, always making others do everything for them.” 

“So selfish,” he agreed. 

She reached over him picking up his movie camera, “My friend back in New York had this same camera.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded looking into the eyepiece, “he used to sit on the corner of Broadway and 8th shooting peoples feet on the streets as they walked by. He would set it to some weird Moby type music and we’d sit and watch it for hours picking out all the tourists based on shoes and a walk.” 

“Do you miss it?” He asked. 

She smiled sadly, “Sometimes, just the little things I guess. I miss the world being at my fingertips and the freedom that I felt. But I don’t necessarily like the person that I was; it’s nice to just start over.” 

“I think we all wish we could start over again.” 

“Why would you of all people Dawson Leery want to change your life?” 

“Make it more exciting I guess, I dream and imagine so many different aspects of life but in actuality my life is rather a bore.” 

She set his camera down, “That’s because you’re no more real then the characters you’re so fascinated with. You have your defining characteristics; you just lack experience that’s all.” 

“And I’m too timid to break out of my predetermined shell.” 

A devilish grin swept across her lips, “I think I can fix that.” 

~*~

The clamor from the living room tempted her from her chambers and she was left with nothing but a humorous image that she would have to store in her memory. “What are you doing?” Joey asked with an amused grin. 

Bessie cradled her rounded belly in her arm as she leaned against the door trying her best to squat down and retrieve her fallen coat. “They need me,” she fought to catch her breath, “Icehouse,” she cringed trying to extend her arm another four inches, “they’re down a chef.” 

“In your condition?” Joey scoffed, “Let me fill in for you.” 

“Sorry baby sister but according to Massachusetts state regulations you are too young to be placed behind the stove. The place is enough of a health hazard as it is, throw in illegal labor and we minus well move out on the streets.” 

“Have Bodie fill in Bess, you’re like 8 months pregnant,” Joey argued picking up her sister’s jacket and handing it to her. 

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed this but Bodie isn’t here.” 

“Where is he anyway,” she thought out loud. 

“Some generic cooking clinic,” Bessie shrugged on her coat, “now I’ll be back later.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll stay away from sharp objects and strangers.” 

“That’s my girl,” she muzzled her hair heading out the door. 

Settling on the sofa she folded her arms over her chest staring at the closed door for a long moment before picking up the phone, “Hey Pacey?” She said. 

“Joey, hey,” he said. 

“Do you want to come over, for tutoring or whatever,” Her teeth tugged nervously on her bottom lip in anticipation. 

“Um,” he stalled, “yeah sure I’ll be right over.” 

With Chris’s sagely advice ringing through her ears, Joey decided that this was the moment she would make her move. Gone was the tomboy that any boy could talk to, she was going to be a woman now, she was going to be like Jen. That was what he wanted. 

Sifting through her closet she approximated 15 minutes before his arrival and calculated a 30 minute journey through her closet to find anything remotely sexual. She got down on her knees digging through the pool of clothes that covered her closet floor coming up with an old black skirt that her fascist chorus teacher had forced her to wear during all of those junior high concerts. She held it up to her thigh the growth in her height over the summer drastically changing the skirts length far beyond comfort. 

Running down the hall she nearly slipped on the turn into Bessie’s room. Like a starving savage she clawed through her dresser seeking out the ideal revealing top that she lacked. Slipping one over her head she realized she was in dire need of breasts to pull this one off. Tripping back into her room she pulled out a bunch of tank tops, Operation Slutify was harder then she thought. 

Red was her best shot, and looking herself over in the mirror she knew that something else was missing. Mussing up her dull flat hair she tried to add a wispy volume. When those attempts were futile she headed back into Bessie’s room inspecting the scattered pieces of makeup on her dresser, the foreign wands taking on the appearance of medieval torture devices as she picked them up with a shaky hand. 

Examining her choices, she picked up a suitable shade of red smearing it healthily across her lips, dissatisfied she picked up a tissue, desperately blotting the color away. Tracing her lower lid with eyeliner she smudged away the excess in a long gray streak below her eye, frantically trying to wipe it away. She dabbed some eye shadow onto a brush sweeping it across her lid and smiling with satisfaction. Drawing the mascara to her eyelashes her hand jilted jabbing the brush into her eye the thick tears welling in the infected eye just as the doorbell rang. 

She rushed to the door swinging it open, “Hey,” she smiled gasping for air. 

He narrowed his eyes, “Are you wearing makeup?” 

“Come on in,” she ignored him. 

“Why are you dressed that way, we’re not going anywhere are we?” He asked stepping around her, his eyes still trailing over her. 

“No reason,” she shrugged off. 

Digging his hands into his pockets he turned around to look at her, “What’s going on?” 

~*~

"What are we doing?" Dawson asked following her down the staircase. 

"We're fifteen years old and vastly reaching adulthood," Jen explained, "we need to add a few notches on your belt of reckless behavior before you wander into college with you're tail between your legs." 

"And this all breaks down to what?" 

"Are your parents home?" She asked abruptly. 

He chuckled nervously, "Not a good sign." 

"I’m serious." 

He glanced out the window the lawn absent of Mitch's Explorer, "No." 

"Good," she said heading to the dining room finding the liquor cabinet. "No lock," she noticed, "now where's the fun in that?" 

"What are you doing?" He asked cautiously. 

"Have you and Pacey ever had a little fun while mommy and daddy were out?" She asked swinging the doors open. 

"Well no," he shook his head. 

She rolled her eyes, "I'm not asking you to commit any murders or federal offenses, I won't make you open other people's mail, just a little under aged drinking to spark up an evening," she finished handing him a bottle. 

"I've got a bad feeling about this," he said inspecting the Jack Daniel's in his hand. 

"One think that I've learned," Jen said choosing her drink of choice, "is that life is a joke." Toasting her bottle against his she raised the cool glass to her lips, "So you minus well enjoy It." 

Warily watching her he took a sip, flinching as the liquid burnt down his throat, coughing as he tried to drink a little more. "This should be interesting," he mumbled. 

~*~

Tucking her feet beneath her she sat next to him on the couch glancing over his shoulder pretending to read what page he was on in an attempt to get closer to him. 

He looked at her through the corner of his eye, flashes of his dream flooding his brain as he tried to focus on his book, but all he saw was her. Clearing his throat he wondered if she knew how much she was driving him insane, he stood from the couch brushing off his jeans before he sat in the chair across from her. Nodding towards the lamp he said, "Better lighting." 

"Oh," she said looking away, a rejected feeling rising in the pit of her stomach. 

He caught her eye, the vulnerable hope of someone so desperate to be loved eluding him, "I finished this chapter," he said throwing the book down. 

"What do you think?" she asked. 

"It's alright," he shrugged. "Though I don't see what's wrong with Jack's tribe, there's nothing wrong with a little violence to get the job done." 

"Typical," she muttered. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" He narrowed his eyes. 

"It's just suck a typical guy answer, all you care about is violence, cars, and girls with big boobs." 

"And what's your view on this all?" He asked. 

She looked down at the book on the coffee table before looking back at him, "That society holds people together while nature destroys them. Being civilized means following a set of rules, laws and government that tell us what's right and wrong, but in nature," she stood up walking across the living room and settling on the arm of his chair, "we're free to follow our natural urges." 

"And what would those be," he voice nearly cracked as her warm fingers stroked across the back of his neck. 

She brushed her nose against her ear, "Doing what feels good, I guess," she whispered her thick voice attempting sultry as her fingers danced awkwardly against the soft hairs on his neck. She watched him warily, feeling more moronic then sexy at the moment. 

Her other hand slid down his chest fumbling with the first few buttons of his shirt, "Joey, what are you doing?" He choked out. 

"Trying to make you feel good too," she said. 

He stood up causing her to fall in the chair in reaction to his absence, "What's going on?" He asked. 

"I thought this was what guys wanted," she said, embarrassment overwhelming her. 

"What?" 

The flush in her cheeks made the situation worse as she hid her head in her hands, "Nothing, just forget I said anything at all." She was on the brim of tears wishing she could disappear, "In fact forget any of this ever happened, it will save us both a lot banter time and perhaps I can salvage the little remains of my dignity." 

"Joey," he knelt in front of her. “What are you talking about?” 

“Nothing,” she shook her head still hiding behind her hands, “Can you just go home or something.” 

He pulled her hands away forcing her to look at him a dark streak of mascara stained tears running down her cheek, "Not until you explain to me what exactly is going on tonight." 

"Can you just go?" 

"What's gotten in to you?" He furrowed his brows. 

"What's gotten into me?" She asked incredulously, "What's gotten into you? We start actually acting like friends and then suddenly you're avoiding me left and right for the company of boobyliscious!" 

"What?" 

"Oh come on you're like every other guy out there, all you want is a sexy blonde who you think is easy." 

"Is that what this is about?" He asked, "Is that why you're dressed up that way? Because you think that I want someone like Jen?" 

"Yes," she nodded dumbly. 

"Joey I don't want you to change," he said, "especially not for me." He smirked, "That's what I like about you Potter, you're different from all the other girls in school, you don't care what others think and you sure as hell don't let them change you." 

She frowned bowing her head again. 

"Joey," he tilted her face up with his thumb stroking away the streak that ran down her cheek, "You're beautiful without the cosmetic enhancements and you're sexy without the short skirts and tight tops. I like your sloppy ponytails and your baggy jeans, I like the fact that you're stubborn and give me a hard time with everything, you're difficulty can be extremely endearing," he chuckled, "as well as insanely aggravating," she smiled slightly, "but I like that too." He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear; "I don't want you to think that I don't want to be associated with you because you don't fit that commercial definition of beauty. And as incredibly cheesy as this may sound, or even blatantly ripped off from Billy Joel," he laughed nervously, "Don't go changing to try and please me, you never let me down before, then there are some 'oo's' in there—." 

Taking his face into her hands she pulled him closer pressing her lips against his, her tongue sweeping across his lower lip pulling him against her. 

~*~

“You know what,” Dawson slurred wrinkling his forehead as he heard the words sloppily stumble from his mouth, “You know what,” he repeated. 

She giggled, “What?” 

“I was supposed to put that thing away but he told me to stop because the ice cream was in the garage, and,” he pursed his lips looking down at his half empty bottle, “I don’t remember.” 

“What are you saying?” Jen asked in another burst of laughter. 

“I’m thirsty,” he said picking up the bottle and taking another healthy swig a dribble of golden liquid streaming down his cheek. 

“You’re wasting it all,” Jen stumbled next to him trying to stop the room from spinning as she stopped the waterfall of whiskey with her pinky finger. Taking the bottle from his hands she took a gulp before setting it aside, “I think we’ve had enough.” 

“Really?” He asked sadly. 

“Yeah,” she smiled. 

“Just a little more,” he leaned over her trying to clutch the bottle. 

Pressing her palms firmly against his chest she held him away from his prize until the weight on her shaky arms caused him to fall over. 

His innocent eyes now bore directly over hers a small smirk etching his lips, “Hi,” he said his voice hovering over a whisper. 

She dragged her lower lip between her teeth, “Hey,” she replied. They lay frozen in that position until she spoke, “Dawson, have you ever kissed a girl before?” 

He swallowed thickly a wave of sobriety flickering briefly within him, “Not so much,” he murmured bashfully. 

Lifting onto her elbows she met his lips brushing hers over his softly and tenderly at first before letting him catch her lower lip between his. The potent taste of Jack Daniel’s swished between their tongues as their kiss deepened leaving them in a clamored heap on the floor. The heat of their bodies intensified as their hands roamed across their clothed barriers. 

Jen pulled away pushing her shirt over her head, leaving Dawson faced to face with a pair of lace clad breasts. He had seen them before in the occasional Victoria’s Secret catalogue his mother had left on the coffee table. Peeked at them when he sheepishly flipped through a Playboy with Pacey, and had even seen them in action with a daring showing at Screen Play from the adult section. But this was entirely different, they were so close he could reach out and touch them. 

Jen pulled his mouth back to hers kissing him deeply finding his hand and guiding it up her side and around her soft mound. His hand sat motionless for a moment bewildered by the next step, his blood pounded through his veins, his mind remained a jar of goo and all he could think was “squeeze.” 

A hiss passed through her lips as he pressed firmly against her breast, sloppy kisses trailing down her neck and a soft moan passing through his lips. 

She didn’t want to be that person she was before, and right now she was peering through her new façade, begging to be released. Was she throwing everything she had been working for away? The image that she was trying to form for her parents was slowly fading away, barely even tangible to grasp. She wanted to be better, she wanted for her family to be proud; she didn’t want to feel like nothing. And lying on the floor inebriated with a boy she barely knew made her feel worthless. 

She liked Dawson, she truly did, his innocence was endearing, an aspect in life that she had seldom seen lately. But this wasn’t the time to do this; it wouldn’t be fair to anyone to go on. She wanted somebody to love her, she wanted to love him back in return, she didn’t want the lust anymore, she wanted more. 

She pushed him away fishing around for her top, “I can’t do this,” she shook her head frantically, “I’ve got to go.” 

He blinked a few times trying to figure out if he was in an alcohol induced dream as his eyes followed her out the door flabbergasted. 

~*~

Joey pulled away her eyelids still fluttering lightly over her cheekbones as she let his warm breath mingle with hers, “What was that,” she murmured softly afraid to drive her voice above a whisper. 

“Incredible,” his tone matched hers as his dark eyes met hers. 

“Yeah,” she muttered a crooked grin playing across her lips. 

“So what do we do now?” He asked dragging his tongue across his lips the faint taste of her lipstick stinging his taste buds. 

“I don’t know,” she shook her head, “I’m so confused.” 

“About what?” His brows furrowed. 

“About everything I guess,” she rand a frustrated hand through her hair. “I just, I don’t understand these feelings that I’ve been having lately and I wish that I could describe them but it’s all so foreign to me.” 

“Are they good feelings?” He questioned. 

Her grin widened, “Yes.” 

“Then I guess the important thing is, what is it that you want?” 

I tinge of pink flooded her cheeks, “It’s too embarrassing to talk about.” 

“Try me,” he said still kneeling in front of her his hands placed on her thighs. 

“It’s just lately,” she couldn’t fight the urge to swipe her hand across his cheek, her fingers brushing through his hair. “Lately you’ve been extremely…” she trailed off. 

“Extremely what?” He asked leaning into her touch. 

“Extremely kissable,” she finished. 

“Really,” a cocky tone swiped through his voice. 

“See I knew I shouldn’t have told you.” 

“Why?” He asked, “Were you afraid that I wouldn’t feel the same way back?” He cocked a brow, “Or were you scared that your feelings may actually be requited?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“It’s easy to feel something Jo, but do actually take action is an entirely different leap of faith, because there’s the faint chance that you might get hurt in the end.” 

“I’m not afraid of getting hurt,” she said stubbornly. 

“Then what do you want me to do?” He asked. 

Her defensive Potter senses kicked in, “I don’t really care.” 

He chortled, “Right,” he nodded a few times, “So should I just go home then?” 

He made a move to stand but was stopped when Joey clutched onto his hand, “No.” 

“Then what do you want?” He glanced down at their joined hands before looking back at her uncertain gaze, “The choice is all yours.” 

She bit her lips forcing the words from the back of her throat, “I want you to be my boyfriend,” she blurted out. 

He grinned, “Was that so hard to say?” 

She scoffed, “Yes!” 

He shrugged his shoulder grinning smugly, “Well I guess I can pencil you into my schedule, you know the next time I’m free maybe I’ll give you a ring.” 

She slapped his arm, “You’re not helping. I mean maybe declarations and spreading of emotions are easy for you, but for some people, who are terrified and self conscious it’s not always the easiest thing. So the least you can do is offer a shred of sympathy and not—.” 

“Joey,” he silenced her cupping her cheek in his hand, “Yes,” he said simply kissing her again.