Christmas Cookies

"Quit being such a big dummy." Why had she said that? Not the insult—she'd called him that since they were kids. Why hadn't she just told him who her crush used to be? In the moment, he'd almost thought...yeah, that was stupid. He was a big dummy. Those were the worries, the words he'd tried to get rid of with copious amounts of booze. Tried to sterilize himself from the inside.

Maybe it had worked. Maybe it was because his hands had been busy punching buttons on the controller for the past three hours, or because his eyes had been glued to the video game on the screen instead of her flawless face. Maybe it was all these things. But he'd behaved. He'd kept the shuddering reveries at bay.

Now all he had to worry about was keeping his big-dummy mouth shut.

He'd almost told her everything today. Almost said the words he'd thought so many times in the past year.

Last Christmas was hell for him. It was his first time seeing her since he'd realized the truth. It solidified that truth, which left a festering sickness in his gut. Any hope he'd had that the doctor was wrong had been snuffed out. She was so bright, so beautiful. And that tight fucking sweater she kept wearing, the one that hugged her in all the right places. And that smile she'd give him, full of light and love. How dysfunctional he was to take that pure love and twist it into something so perverse. And then there was that damn song. The song she'd tested on him the night before he'd stepped out—the night before he'd made her cry. That song was the sexiest thing he'd ever heard. Honestly, she'd had no right singing it to her brother. It wasn't dirty; the tone alone was what made it so alluring. But the way her voice went down to this low, whispery place. Her sultry voice, the look on her face...

But he couldn't think about that now. He was getting riled up again. He'd better sleep it off alone.

"I'm going to take the couch tonight."

"Why?" Rowan paused to frown at Jason.

"There's just not much space in there."

"There's less space on the couch."

"It's too warm in your room. I run hot."

"I'll turn the heater off."

"I feel like I'm going to yak."

"I'll put the trash can on your side."

Jason groaned.

"Jason. Sleep with me. Be my teddy bear."

The words caused a quiver in his loins. He could just tell her no...but those eyes. What power did he have to deny her? His love for her was a double-edged sword. Stronger men had burned for less. He burned for her.

Suffer in silence. That was the theme of the week.

What's the worst that could happen? He was too drunk to function; she was probably too drunk to remember any secrets he could possibly spill by morning. She'd drunk half of what he did but she couldn't stand up any straighter than he could.

Jason stretched his limbs out over the comforter, the heat of the alcohol radiating through him. He wondered if he really was going to vomit. He'd had so much to drink, he could barely keep his eyes open. Barely think straight. At least there was solace in knowing he'd be asleep soon.

"Here, drink this." Jason opened his eyes to find a glass of water hovering over his head. He groaned.

"You'll thank me in the morning. These too."

Rowan handed him a few pills. Jason obeyed, swallowing the medicine with as much water as he could gulp down, then settled back into the pillow. Rowan's hand snaked over his chest as she bedded down next to him.

"Can you take this off?" She tugged on his shirt. "I want to feel your skin."

Jason grumbled but knew it was fruitless to refuse her. He'd vowed to himself that there would be no undressing tonight. He'd been stupid and careless the night before. He needed to be cautious, but the shirt could go, he guessed, as long as his thick jeans stayed on. He let Rowan lift the t-shirt and he yanked it off the rest of the way. He shivered as her feather-light touch trailed his abs. He wished he could feel her skin too. All he had under his hand was her woolen sweater. Was that fair?

"If I have to take mine off, you have to take yours off." He forgot to make it sound like a joke.

Rowan lifted her head to look at Jason. "I don't have a bra on."

"I'm so surprised."

"Wait." She hopped off the bed with unmatchable energy, rummaged through a drawer, and said, "close your eyes for a minute."

No problem, Jason thought. He flung his arm over his face. He was nearly unconscious by the time he felt Rowan's weight depress the mattress. He moved his arm to behold her, sitting in front of him as if she were waiting for appraisal. And behold her he did, stunned and immobilized by the sight of her. Rowan's chunky sweater was gone, replaced by a tiny black bra. It looked like the kind that was meant to sleep in: soft and stretchy; barely there. Her plump, creamy breasts spilled from the middle and sides. He followed the line of her cleavage down to the bottom of the valley the two lace-edged triangles created. His eyes drifted down the length of her flat stomach, then back up to her chest.

"They're butterflies," Ro said.

Printed orange butterflies flitted across the taut fabric, not doing enough to camouflage her nipples.

Jason cleared his throat. "Yeah, that's what I was looking at. The butterflies."

Rowan giggled, then laid herself halfway on top of Jason, her arm draping over him and her leg nudging between his. She snuggled into his neck, her hot breath giving him contradictory chills. He caressed the small of her back. Her skin was so soft. The curve of her tiny waist was a luscious hollow for his fingers to traverse.

"Oh, god. Please don't get mad at me if I get hard," he slurred. It was less of a plea and more of a warning. There'd be no hiding it—her thigh was right on his crotch. It was only a matter of time before she felt it but he couldn't bear to move. Couldn't roll this succulent woman off of him. This is what he fantasized about when she was oceans away. Well, part of what he fantasized about.

"Would you get mad at me if I was wet?"

Jason chuckled. She must've forgotten that he'd made her come this morning.

Rowan was restless, even after the lights were out. Her wiggling and fidgeting kept Jason from falling asleep, which he was liable to do.

"Do you want to take your pants off? They're so scratchy." Ro asked.

"Rowan, if you don't close your eyes and go to sleep right now, I'm gonna go sleep on the couch."

"Yes, sir." Jason could hear her rolling her eyes.

~***~

Christmas morning, they both woke up late and ill. Rowan had thought the alcohol would help ease her tension but she'd overindulged. Jason had, also. Once they had some food in their bellies and the headaches cleared up, they exchanged gifts. Sticking with tradition, they each had one special gift for the other. Rowan nearly cried when she opened the expensive headphones that had been on her wishlist for months. For Jason, she'd bought a new watch since he'd been complaining about the one he'd worn since boot camp. She'd agonized over what to get him for too long—still wasn't sure a watch was a substantial gift—but he seemed to love it.

"Can you hand me the red?" Rowan pointed.

Jason worked on decorating his tray of sugar cookies from the opposite side of the counter, icing little Santa heads and wreaths. He slid the piping bag across the counter without lifting his gaze. He looked so cute when he was concentrating.

Rowan picked the bag up with too much force, and red food-colored icing squirted onto her white Christmas sweater, intermingling with the embroidered reindeer to make it look like someone had taken an ax to the poor little guys. She gasped.

Jason laughed. "Here. Let me help you." He came around to her side of the kitchen and doused a rag in cold water. He applied it gingerly to the stains near the collar, but it was a futile effort. The sweater wasn't going to come clean.

"We could put more. Make it a Halloween sweater," he jested.

"Aw. Grandma gave this to me. Tsk. I should've taken it off."

"Grandma has given us a bunch of those ugly Christmas sweaters." He dropped the rag into the sink.

"You take that back! They are not ugly."

"Well, anything looks adorable on you." He booped her nose.

It was an innocent, brotherly compliment but it made her insides flutter. "You think I'm adorable?"

"Sometimes."

"And what about other times?" She leaned back against the Formica counter.

"A pain in the ass."

"And...other times?"

Jason paused, then said, low and slow, "gorgeous. Stunning. Perfect."

Rowan bravely studied Jason's face. He looked at the floor between them for a long moment, crossing his arms in front of him. The motion made him look smaller. Almost like he was ashamed. His breath deepened. He looked back up at her, tentatively at first. She cocked her head to the side and rallied her courage.

Like Jason had said: push through the fear and do what you gotta do.

"Maybe if you just kissed me," she whispered. Pleaded.

He didn't respond. Didn't move. She'd made a mistake. Misunderstood. What must he be thinking? Did she ruin everything? Was he disgusted with her? Could they just pretend she never said it and go back to normal?

Jason huffed a loud exhale through his nose. Seconds passed before he took a leaden step toward Rowan, near enough she could feel his breath on her face. He placed his hands on the counter on either side of her, slanting even closer, unflinching. Rowan's heartbeat picked up as she stared into his deep eyes. His gaze fell to her lips. She closed her eyes as Jason's lips met hers. They pressed softly together. Jason pulled away from the quick kiss, leaving Ro leaning in for more. She opened her eyes in wonder, meeting his fiery gaze. He brushed a lock of wild hair behind her ear. The gentle touch sent shivers down her spine. He gripped her waist and pulled her against him. Rowan welcomed another kiss, this one lingering before breaking. Jason didn't back away an inch. He pressed his lips to hers again and pushed harder into the kiss. Rowan slid her shaking hands up across her brother's t-shirt and around his neck, pulling him greedily close as the kiss deepened. Her chest crushed against his hard body. Her lips parted against his. Jason took her bottom lip between his and lightly sucked. Ro moaned quietly into his mouth. She felt his tongue dance across her lip and rewarded it with her own. The hand resting on her hip crept under her sweater and rounded toward her upper back. Her skin burned with electricity. Jason pulled away, dropped his hands back to the counter, and set his intense eyes on Rowan. Their heaving breaths intermingled. Jason lowered his head to Ro's shoulder, resting as his lungs slowed. Her fingers ran through his short hair.

"Have you been sneaking candy?" Jason asked without lifting his head.

"What?" she whispered, puzzled.

He straightened to face her, smirking.

"You taste like chocolate."

"Oh," she snickered.

"Peanut butter M&Ms? You're still addicted to those?"

"No, that's just my natural flavor."

"Mm-hmm."

He walked over to the pantry and flipped the light on. It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for.

"Ah ha!"

Jason pulled out the red package of candy and shook it. He gasped.

"Almost empty!"

"Yeah, okay. You got me."

He dug his fist into the bag and popped several into his mouth.

"You know there's nothing wrong with the plain ones," he said through a full mouth.

"Oh, no, these are so much better," she argued wistfully, stealing a couple from him.

"Well," Jason dropped the bag on the counter, "they taste much better on your lips."

He leaned in for one more small smooch.

"Okay. Back to work," he ordered. "You're such a distraction. If you want cookies sometime soon, we'd better keep decorating."

Rowan spun back around to the counter and picked up the plain icing. She was a warm and wet mixture of excitement and peace. She smiled to herself as she dotted white icing along the cookie snowflake, barely able to keep her hand steady.

=-=-=

Disbelief kept Jason quiet for the rest of the day. Why had she humored him? Pity? Love? A sense of obligation? A fucking Christmas present?

That kiss, goddamn. He'd never felt anything like that in his life. It was so fucked up. Did that make it hotter? He was willing to bet it did. And she hadn't held back. She'd made him believe she was as hot for him as he was for her. (Impossible.) It was ten times better than his wildest fantasies...because this was real. There was his dream girl, the star of those fantasies, clutching his shirt while he tasted her. Jason had mustered all his strength to stop himself from ripping off that ugly sweater, lifting her by the ass, and taking her right then and there on the kitchen counter.

A welcome diversion came in the way of cooking Christmas dinner, which wasn't a big feast—turkey, mashed potatoes, and roasted vegetables—since it was just the two of them. They'd made it through dinner, eating and drinking (minimally, this time) their way through the awkward, heated glances. Once they'd retired to the couch, Jason had made sure to keep his hands to himself, though what he wanted was to wrap his arm around her shoulder and let Ro snuggle up to him. He knew he wouldn't have been able to stop himself from kissing her again if she was too close, so he kept his distance—if that's what you could call the mere inches between them on the micro loveseat.

Rowan didn't seem able to relax. They'd both had enough sugar—they'd been snacking on the cookies all day—but she was baking again. Busying herself or getting some space, he didn't know which. Jason decided to grab a quick shower while she was occupied. When he was finished, she was putting a pecan pie in the oven. He crossed the apartment to grab a change of clothes from his bag, which had never left its place by the front door. He slipped a pair of sweatpants on under his towel, then removed the towel to dry off the rest of his body. He noticed Rowan watching him from the kitchen. Her eyes flicked back to the dishes she was cleaning.

"Staring at my scars again?"

"No," she said.

"Yeah, you were."

Her scrutiny was a painful reminder of his wounds. They no longer hurt, but the memory did. And the scars left behind...they were ugly. Disfiguring. They made him feel like he wasn't himself anymore. He hadn't realized how insecure he was about them until now. He hadn't cared when other girls touched the jagged edges of the burns, inspected them. He hadn't cared when they cried and told him they were sorry. He just let them try—and fail—to make him feel better.

But then again, those girls weren't Rowan. They hadn't looked at him like she did. They couldn't match the light in her eyes.

He didn't care what anyone thought about him except Ro. He didn't want her to think he was grotesque. He didn't want her pity or her tears. He just wanted her to look at him with the same love she had in her eyes since they'd been children.

"No, I wasn't. I was just..." She smiled. "You're gorgeous too, you know."

"Oh? Even though I'm all mangled?"

"You're not mangled. You're handsome."

Jason pulled on a wrinkled shirt. "As long as I'm dressed."

"Ha! I wasn't talking about your face, you big dummy."

Jason walked the few feet to the kitchen, scowling at Rowan.

"Not that your face isn't handsome. I wasn't looking at your face; I was looking at your body. Your muscles. I was appreciating the view." She sighed wistfully. "It broke my heart when you joined the Marines, but it does agree with you. Physically, anyway."

He didn't know if he believed her. Had she just admitted to checking him out? With these hideous scars? She couldn't possibly.

"So I guess now I'm a big, buff dummy?"

"You know I don't really think you're dumb, right?"

Jason inched closer, an arm's length away. It was as far as he could keep away from her. Rowan gave up on the dishes and turned the water off. Jason kept his hands to himself, looking for some sign in her expression, or in her words, that all this wasn't just some ingrained sense of obligation for her. Looking for some clue as to what all this was.

"I'm pretty fucking dumb."

Truer words were never spoken. There must've been something broken in him that caused this. Who the fuck falls in love with their little sister?

"No, you're not. Not any dumber than me."

He smirked. "Dumb and dumber."

"Which one of us is dumber?"

"I mean if you have to ask..."

"Hey!"

Jason laughed. Rowan had always had a way of warming him up. Easing his anxieties.

"Can I ask you something? Who did you used to have a crush on?" He leaned next to the sink.

"This again? Maybe you are dumb."

"Come on."

Rowan grimaced. "You, Jason. Obviously."

Jason paused, taken aback, then scoffed. "That was not obvious."

"Yes, it was. My friends used to tease me about it. So did Mom!"

"Huh?" Jason stared at her, astounded.

"All little girls have a crush on their big brother. It was innocent."

"Okay. So did in any way, shape, or form did this innocent crush—"

"At first."

"What?"

"It was innocent at first."

"Oh." Jason looked at the floor. "And then?"

"Mm-mm. You first. What were you going to ask?"

He met her eyes. "Is that why you wanted me to kiss you? Because you used to have a crush on me?"

"No."

Jason shifted his weight.

"Not used to," Rowan clarified. "Not past tense."

"Oh." It took a minute to process. "So you have a not-so-innocent crush...on me...currently?"

Well, this was new information.

"Always."

When Jason didn't respond, Rowan attempted to explain herself. "I never planned any of this. I never thought anything would happen. I figured I could keep quiet about it until it went away. But it never did. And now you're here and we're alone and it feels different, Jason. I started thinking it wasn't just me."

"It's not just you."

All this time, he'd thought it had just been him. That'd he'd been sick. There was no way Rowan was on the same level he was, but knowing this fucked up attraction was mutual was an unearned relief. He had questions, but his mind was an overwhelming fog of exhilaration and vindication. And lust. His attempted repression snapped at once, unleashing the fire in his belly like it had been starved of oxygen.

He closed the distance between them. Rowan's chest heaved with anticipation, or perhaps fear. Jason salivated with intent. He dragged his fingers up Ro's neck and into her hair. Her summery scent intoxicated him, the sound of her panting breath nearly drove him past the point of no return. His lips sought the warmth of her cheek. Rowan turned into him, inviting more than the chaste kiss he planted on her.

A crush. That's what she called it. Jason didn't know how far Rowan wanted to take this, if she wanted to take it anywhere at all. He didn't have much restraint left, and he was sure if he kissed Ro again, he'd be trying to undress her soon. What if that wasn't what she wanted? Was she just fucking around? Experimenting? The last thing he wanted was to seduce her into doing something she didn't want to do—something they'd never be able to take back.

Jason tugged on his last shred of self-control. He pulled back from her suddenly, leaving her leaning in for a kiss he wasn't sure was a good idea. Rowan stood on her toes and tried to pull him closer, tipping her chin up to meet his lips. He took a step back. Ro frowned.

"Why torture me like this?" she whined breathlessly.

"It's what big brothers do." He couldn't help but smile.

She stepped forward, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and planted a quick peck on his lips.

"That is not what big brothers do," Jason said, his guilt flaring.

He reached up to unwrap himself from her entanglement but was stopped by the intense look in her eyes. Those fucking eyes. She could sink ships with their oceanic beauty. And Jason sunk into their depths, without any desire to get out alive.