#*exhale* | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

youvebeenlivingfictional · 1 year

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Exhale

Pairing: Jonathan Levy x Reader

Rating: M

Notes: Hey look it's the sequel to Breathe that no one asked for

Warnings: Mutual pining; mentions of divorce; weed smoking; angst; fluff; Reader teaches with Jonathan; not beta-read Summary: You’re in a cuddly, sleepy mood. In the past, with other people, that’s made you pretty fricking stupid—moves and passes made, friends and exes slept with, relationships made, boosted, bolstered, broken.

Your friendship with Jonathan has become far too dear to allow yourself to get stupid about him now.

You hardly look away from the dishes as you hear him pad back into the kitchen. Jonathan tips his head forward, pressing against the nape of your neck as he groans softly. The ease that he leans into you makes your stomach flutter—and the tired groan he looses makes you grin.

“That was bad,” He mumbles.

“It wasn’t that bad.”

“It wasn’t that bad?” He repeats, laughing. He straightens to step around you, leaning back against the counter.

“No! I mean…You know. It could’ve been worse.”

Jonathan huffs a soft laugh, raising his hands and scrubbing at his eyes, knocking his glasses askew for a moment before he rights them again.

“It was excruciating.” He sighs, peering down at your hands before he asks, “Can we smoke? Please?”

“You’re always so polite, Levy,” You tease, raising your hand and spritzing him with water. He chuckles, flinching out of the way, only grumbling a little when a droplet lands on one of his lenses.

You’re bundled in your coats and scarves and hats, sitting on the back porch of the house as you pass the joint back and forth. You’ve gotten into the habit of sitting outside, after Ava mentioned a funny smell after one of your visits with Jonathan.

You lean back against one of the posts of the porch stairway, peering up. The sky is overcast, but the air doesn’t feel heavy, or smell like snow. It was supposed to snow, but there hasn’t been a hint of it.

“...You’re too polite,” You comment lightly. Jonathan frowns down at you, brow furrowing, his hand half extended to hand the joint back. He’s a couple of steps above you, leaning against the opposite end of the stairs.

“Well, you are,” You shrug. “If you hadn’t been, that whole dinner would never have happened.”

Jonathan huffs, drawing the joint back to himself and raising it to his lips. You laugh a little, tipping your head up to look up at the sky again.

“You’re just pissed ‘cause you know I’m right,” You add.

Despite what you’d said in the kitchen, the evening had been pretty bad. You’d come by to smoke with Jonathan, and before you could get into it, Mira had stopped by to pick something up. You’d passed your presence off as a conference, discussing some of your thesis students. Your pizza had arrived a few minutes after Mira did, and Jonathan had offered (emphatically) for Mira to stay and have a slice. The conversation had been awkward and stilted, with Mira and Jonathan beginning to rise to bickering every few minutes, remembering that you were there, and then backing off of it immediately—Jonathan with a clearing of his throat and an adjustment of his glasses, and Mira shooting an awkward, darting glance toward you, a tight smile on her lips.

“We’re still trying to be civil."

”I know.”

“So I was just trying to be friendly—”

“Friendly and civil are two different things.”

“They’re synonyms.”

“It’s a slight but important semantic difference.”

You hold your hand out, fingers wiggling. Jonathan grudgingly passes the joint back over before he wraps his arms around himself, avoiding your gaze. You raise the joint to your lips, drawing the smoke in. You draw the joint away again, eyeing the smoking tip.

“Alright,” You tack on, voice tight as you hold in the drag, “I’ll shut up.”

“She’s important to me.”

“I know that.”

“She’s the mother of my child—”

“Jonathan—”

“We were together for twelve fucking years—”

“Hey,” You sit up, shifting onto the step beside Jonathan’s outstretched legs, “I know that. I’m not discounting any of it. I’m just…” You shake your head a little, taking in his tight jaw, his bright, indignant eyes. “Maybe it’s because I was there, but dinner kinda felt like pulling teeth, that’s all.” When Jonathan makes no answer, you lamely tack on, “And I like your teeth. Like, inside your mouth.”

Jonathan huffs out a laugh, head tipping forward to nod a little. You scooch closer to him, sitting on the step just below his, drawing from the joint again before holding it out. He takes it, but doesn’t raise it to his lips. He just twiddles with it for a moment, ashes slipping to his outstretched thighs. You reach out, brushing them away absently before you lean back again, tucking your hands into your sleeves to warm them.

“We should’ve gotten two pizzas,” Jonathan mutters, “You’re right, we shouldn’t have let Mira stay. I’m hungry again.”

You snort, head lolling to the side to look at him.

“We? It’s your house, Levy. I didn’t let her do anything, that was aaalll you,” You insist, waggling your finger at his face. “You stay here and puff, I’ll go order more food. Still pizza?”

“Mm…You know what?” Jonathan pushes himself up, “Let’s make something.”

“You wanna cook?”

“Yes.”

“...Can you cook?”

“C’mon,” He chuckles, “You’re going to eat your words—and a delicious dinner.”

“Delicious second dinner.”

Jonathan pushes himself up and holds his hand out. You take one more drag from the joint, stub it out on the step, and let Jonathan tug you up. You lose your balance as you reach your feet, and the both of you wobble for a moment, clasping one another’s hands tightly.

“You okay?” He asks, chuckling.

“Uh-huh.” You keep your hold on Jonathan’s hand, leading the way to the back door. “So, what are we making?”

“What are you hungry for?”

Dick.

It springs up in your swirling, dirty mind, and you can’t help but break into giggles. You slow in your step at the threshold, hinging forward just a touch as the laughter makes your stomach hurt.

“What?” Jonathan whirls around, your giggles catching as he begins to chuckle. “What is it?”

You wave him off, but his repeated questioning makes your laughter swell.

“What aren’t you telling me?” He presses, laughing. He slides his arm around your middle, straightening you. Your steps drag and stumble as he draws you closer, your hands landing on his chest to steady yourself.

“Noth—nothing!” You insist, just barely managing to catch your breath. You raise a hand, swiping at your tearing eyes before you rest it against his chest again.

It’s a mistake. You’ve been close to Jonathan, but not quite like this. His fingers flex in your shirt as you calm; his gaze sweeps your face, and your stomach flips as his focus lingers and holds on your lips. Your giggling quiets, and you find yourself somewhat sobered, chilled in Jonathan’s doorway, and warmed by his grasp. You clear your throat, averting your gaze.

“Everything,” You finally tell him. “I’m hungry for everything.”

“Everything?” His voice is lower than you thought it may be; it sends a shiver down your spine. You nod, patting his chest once before twisting out of his hold, heading for the fridge.

“So!” You open the door, squinting at the harsh brightness of the fridge. “What have we got?” You keep your gaze on the shelves as you hear Jonathan’s footsteps growing nearer. It’s another few moments before you feel the heat of him behind you. Your eyes slip closed as his breath brushes your neck, his murmur rasping across your jaw:

“Whatever you want.”

“Lobster?”

“...Whatever you want within reason.”

“I think lobster’s pretty reasonable.”

“Do you see lobster in my fridge?”

“I haven’t checked the drawers yet.”

“I would advise you not to get your hopes up.”

–

It’s pretty easy to sink into cooking with Jonathan. He knows his way around the kitchen, and it’s…Sort of hot.

You’re almost certain that his knife skills would be a little more refined if the two of you hadn’t just smoked. Still, his hands are steady and sure as he cooks. Talk turns to lighter topics—work, assignments, students, a project that Ava’s been working on for the Science Fair. You avoid your conversation from the backyard, and anything regarding the first disastrous meal that you had that evening. When the two of you settle down to eat, you sit side by side again, as you had when Mira has been there. You don’t have a good reason this time—no excuse to budge up close. That doesn’t stop you. You just sit side by side, arms and legs brushing against one another’s.

Jonathan seems to wait as you take the first bite. You can’t help but groan as the flavor floods your mouth.

“Holy shit,” You mumble around the mouthful.

“As good as lobster?” Jonathan teases.

“Nope. Better.”

You glance over to see Jonathan shovel a bite into his mouth, a bashful smile pulling his lips.

“Hidden talents, Levy. I’m impressed.”

“It’s a pretty simple recipe.”

“It’s a pretty tasty one. Don’t downplay your skill.”

“Well. Thank you.”

“Hell, thank you. Frickin’ good. This hits the spot.”

–

You lean back in your seat, taking up your glass of wine and taking a sip as you eye your empty plate. You glance up at Jonathan, raising a brow as he glances back at you. He’s poking at his food, his tongue sweeping his lips. You arch your brow, shaking your head a little in confusion before you chuckle, “What?”

“What were you laughing at before?”

Oh—god.

“Nothing.”

“You were laughing over nothing? I don’t believe that.”

“You say that like the weed’s never made you giggly before—which I know is a complete lie.”

“It’s usually sparked by something, though.”

“It kinda was.”

“So?”

“It was just a dumb thought,” You blink rapidly, trying to moisten your dry eyes. “I can’t even remember what it was anyway.”

Jonathan nods slowly before he reaches out, spearing a piece of the pasta remaining on your plate.

“You blink a lot when you’re lying.”

“What?”

“Your eyes,” He raises the fork, waving it at you. “You blink extra when you’re lying.”

“I do not! I’m so dry,” You laugh. “It’s the weed!”

“Uh-huh. Sure,” Jonathan teases, smile widening as you give his shoulder a light shove.

“Shuddup,” You mumble.

“You staying tonight?”

“...If I can.”

“Of course you can.”

“Then yes.”

“Need to borrow a shirt to sleep in again?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Alright. Lemme just get this cleaned up—”

“Nooo,” You whine, reaching out and grasping Jonathan’s sleeve before he can get up and take up your plates. “I’ll do ‘em in the morning. C’mon,” You urge, straightening up. “Let’s see what’s on tv.”

“I think there’s a new Ken Burns doc on PBS.”

“Oh yeah? What’s this one about?”

“The Edwardian Era.”

“Oh heckie yeah.”

–

“Are you falling asleep on me?”

“...A little,” You mumble. You burrow into Jonathan’s side, pouting when you feel him drawing back a touch.

“...That’s pretty good,” He mutters.

“What is?”

“You seem to have mastered lying without blinking. But, that’s probably because you’re falling asleep.”

You snuggle closer, pressing your face into his neck, smiling as his beard gently brushes your forehead.

“You wanna go to bed?” He adds.

You know he just means to sleep, that he doesn't mean anything by it, but the question makes you prickle with interest. Still, you push yourself up with a nod, and a yawned mumble of, “Yah.”

It’s become standard operating procedure. You never do this when Ava is there—hell, you never smoke when Ava is there. But when Jonathan’s got the house to himself, and you spend the evening smoking and chatting, you almost always spend the night.

Jonathan takes hold of your hand, drawing you up off of the couch. He doesn’t let go of you as the two of you shuffle back to his makeshift bedroom. You lean in the doorway, smiling as he tosses you the shirt that you usually sleep in.

“Thanks. I’ll take the bathroom upstairs.”

“Sounds good.”

“I better not hear you doing the dishes,” You warn, heading back into the hall.

Dick.

The thought bubbles up again as you wash your face, but it doesn’t make you burst into giggles again. It does make you smile a bit as you wash away the cleanser that you’re using (one of Mira’s, you think—some bottle that she either forgot or didn’t care about when she and Poli came and moved the rest of her things out. It’s lightly fragranced, and more high-end than you’re used to using. You’re dreading it running out—you’re sort of spoiled for other cleansers now).

You shut the water off and take up a dry washcloth, patting your skin dry before you brace your hands on the sink. You let your eyes wander your face in the mirror before you straighten up, clearing your throat and trying to clear your mind. You’re still a little buzzed, but you’re winding down. You’re getting sleepy, too. The nervous adrenaline of spending time with Mira, seeing Jonathan trying to be so obliging and seeming so uncomfortable, and eating such a tasty second dinner is all starting to slow you down.

You’re in a cuddly, sleepy mood. In the past, with other people, that’s made you pretty fricking stupid—moves and passes made, friends and exes slept with, relationships made, boosted, bolstered, broken.

Your friendship with Jonathan has become far too dear to allow yourself to get stupid about him now.

Stiil, there you are, climbing into his bed and rolling onto your side. Jonathan is on his back, but he’s watching you. His eyes are still a little bloodshot, and he blinks slowly. Your lips twitch with a smile at a memory, and your turn your face into the pillow. But you’re not fast enough.

“What?” Jonathan asks.

“Mm?”

“What? Why are you smiling like that?”

“Nothing!”

“Nothing again? C’mon,” He urges with a soft chuckle. “Let me in.”

You turn your head to meet his eye again, biting your lip. Jonathan’s gaze flickers, sweeping to your lips, then up again.

“I was just thinking of the first night I stayed here,” You admit. “When you asked me about the last time I’d slept with anyone—”

“Oh…God, I forgot about that,” Jonathan groans, head rolling back to stare at the ceiling instead. Your smile widens as you scooch a little closer.

“And then your chest got all…You know,” You reach out, resting your hand on his chest and giving it a little rub.

“It wasn’t that bad. It got a little tight for a second.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t need my inhaler—”

“I know!”

You can feel Jonathan’s heartbeat in his chest. It seems to tick up beneath your hands. You begin to draw your hand away, as though you’ve become privy to something that you shouldn’t feel. But before you can get far, Jonathan rests his hand over yours. The weight and warmth of his palm is comforting, and makes your smile widen.

“For the record,” You tack on, “You’re the last person I slept with. I mean, you know. Have been asleep with.”

Jonathan hums thoughtfully, his thumb sweeping along the side of your hand.

“Still haven’t told me the last time you had sex,” He mumbles. Your brows raise. You wait for a moment for his apology, his justification that he’s still high, his insistence that you don't have to answer, but he lets it hang there. You sweep your tongue across your lips, considering.

“It’s been a while,” You finally admit.

“How long?”

“Why do you wanna know?”

“I’m just curious.” He tips his head to meet your eye. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

You nod. “I know.” Then, “It’s been…I mean…Fuck, I don’t know. A while.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“Any particular reason?”

“At first, yeah. I got out of a serious relationship and I needed…Space. There’s that old adage, you know, the quickest way to get over someone is to get under someone, but that had gotten me into the relationship in the first place, so. I wasn’t exactly leaping to get in bed with someone else.”

“You got in bed with me.”

“Yeah, but we haven’t fucked.” You tip you head to the side, sweeping your gaze over his.

“...No,” He murmurs. “We haven’t.”

You bite your lip, lowering your gaze to your hands. You slip yours out from under his, reveling in the cool slip of the fabric of his shirt beneath your fingers before you raise your hand a little, trailing your fingertip down his pinky, then across to trace across his knuckles.

“Go to sleep, Jonathan,” You advise softly.

“Can’t.”

“Can’t?” You smooth your finger over the back of his forearm. “Why not?”

“It’s hard, sometimes."

“What is?”

“...Sleeping when you’re here.”

You think you should lean back. You ought to lean back. But before you can make a move, Jonathan’s rolling onto his side, pressing his face into your shoulder. Your hand shifts as he does, smoothing up over his bicep to his shoulder. You bite your lip, raising your hand to smooth through his hair, settling on the back of his neck.

“I can go,” You offer, eyelids fluttering as his hand smooths over your hip.

“I don’t want you to.”

“That the weed talking?”

“Why can’t it be me?” Jonathan presses his face into your shoulder, nuzzling like a frightened child. “Why can’t it just be me?”

“It can,” You soothe. “Just, you know. It’s been a long day and a weird…Weird evening. I think my question is valid.”

You feel Jonathan tip his head up, feel as his beard brushes your cheek, his breath pushing against your cheekbone.

“Can we sleep on it?” You implore softly, “Get the stuff out of our systems?”

Jonathan doesn’t answer for a moment before he rolls onto his back, patting your hip and flopping onto the pillow with a groan, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“That’s all I need,” He mumbles, “Someone else to get out of my system.”

You can’t sleep. You wait until you’re certain he’s asleep before you creep out of bed. You’re careful as you go, scooting down bit by bit under your feet hit the floor. You tip-toe out, careful not to step on any of the creaking boards. You stop in the doorway, watching Jonathan for a moment.

You could leave—but christ, you don’t want to. You don’t think you could do that to him, especially not now. You know too much about him and his history to just disappear in the middle of the night. Frankly, you should both be sleeping on the dumbass shit you were about to do. You plop down onto the couch, turning the tv on and hurriedly lowering the volume before it can wake him up. You slouch down, eyeing an infomercial. You’re too lazy to flip through channels, so you let the sweet sounds of a Shamwow commercial send you off to sleep.

“Hey.”

“Mm.”

“You hungry?”

You consider, praying that he can’t hear the way your stomach groans in response before you can speak. It must be morning if he's asking.

“Little bit,” You mumble. You blink your sleepy eyes open, peering up at Jonathan. He hasn’t got his glasses on. He looks as tired as you are.

“Why’d you come out here?” He asks, hand sliding down to your jaw. “Did I scare you off?”

“No,” You shake your head. “I was tossing and turning. Didn’t wanna wake you up.”

Jonathan nods a little, but he doesn’t seem to completely believe you. You pout a little, lowering your gaze from his as you reach up, gently fingering his collar.

“If you’d scared me off, I would’ve left,” You point out. “I’m right here.”

It takes another moment before Jonathan nods. You slip your tongue over your lips.

“Did you sleep on it?” You hedge carefully.

“Mhm.”

“And?”

“And…” Jonathan considers. “It wasn’t the weed.”

Your heart thuds in your chest. You nod a little, thumb dipping beneath his collar, the nail tenderly scratching his skin. You bite your lip as you see his Adam’s apple bob with a thick swallow.

“Good,” You chirp. “It wasn’t for me, either.”

You should look him in the eye. Hell—you should get up and brush your goddamn teeth. But you lean up blindly, pressing your lips to his. It hardly takes a second before Jonathan’s hand is raising to cup your cheek, his lips sliding tenderly along yours. You smile, tenderly smoothing your hand down over his chest. You draw back a little bit, meeting his eye for a moment before bashfulness wells and washes over you.

“Is there coffee?” You ask after a moment.

“There can be.”

“Okay. Okay,” You push yourself to sit up. “I'm gonna go wash my face. And uh…Brush my teeth.”

“That might be for the best.”

You scoff, reaching out and whacking his arm before you getting off of the couch.

“You don’t exactly have the freshest breath either, buddy.”

“I had a cigarette before I woke you up.”

“That explains it.”

You only get a couple of steps away before Jonathan takes hold of your hand, tugging you closer. You only have a moment to catch your bearings before you’re drawn into his chest, his lips covering yours again. You smile, raising your hand to cup his rough cheek, pushing a relieved sigh through your nose. You give him another peck before you lean back entirely, smiling as his fingers curl in the fabric of your shirt.

“How much coffee do you want?” He asks. You grunt.

“So much,” You twist out of his arms, turning away. “I want all of it, Levy.”

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#Jonathan Levy x Reader #Jonathan Levy x You #Jonathan Levy/Reader #Jonathan Levy/You #Jonathan Levy fic #Jonathan Levy imagine #Exhale #alright that's it for me for today lol

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