#it feels like a very summery save file that makes me think of like summer camp and sand boxes and barbecues which i love | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

The kind of love you don't believe in (Jan x Jackie) - Pinkgrapefruit

[7337 words]

Jackie takes a deep breath and slams her empty glass on the table triumphantly.

“I’m going to make you believe in love.” She says with such conviction it’s impossible not to believe her. Her eyes twinkle. Jan wonders if this might be easier than either of them think.

“Okay.”

[ divorce lawyer/wedding planner au ]

A/N - i love this fic so much that i’ve tried to prolong it several times to no avail. it’s based off a Tumblr prompt me and jazz saw and ran with and honestly i’d make her a coauthor but she wouldn’t be impressed so instead it’s dedicated to her in the hopes that she’ll actually accept that for all her hard work and amazing comments while writing this. couldn’t have done it without her. i hope you fall as in love with it as i am.

Jan picks at the edges of her french-tipped manicure. It’s peeling. She stares at it for a second, examining the way the shiny polish reflects the sunlight filtering through the half-closed blinds. If she’s got her timings right, Bob will barrel through her office door in a minute or two and tell her to go home. Or to eat something. Or to do both which is the most probable outcome and Jan’s always been good at finding the most probable outcomes.

She’s a lawyer. It’s her job.

She’d started in family court and it was fun. There was a joy to bringing a child back home to their parents or filing adoptions and the kids’ faces would make Jan light up. She’d appealed for name changes and gender assignments and she was good, no one questioned that. One corner of her office had a neon rainbow sign and a comfy armchair and some books and some toys and it was usually occupied by a little kid who shouldn’t have to spend their afternoon in a lawyers office. But if she could look up from some paperwork to see a calm little kid - she could be calm and happy.

Then she started taking divorce claims.

And she’s a little less vibrant.

(The world feels a little less magical when your job is to help people split their lives in two.)

The problem is, she’s good. She’s really good. She hasn’t lost a divorce case and she gets a name for them. She gets recommended divorce cases until she only has a couple of gay kids and adoptions and custody agreements a month. Trixie takes the rest - nice, warm, motherly Trixie who makes everyone a cup of tea and asks them about their day and wears pastel pinks and yellows. Jan’s not bitter, she’s just jaded. She turns up to work in her charcoal pantsuits and her red heels, makes her coffee in her matte black mug, spends the day in her office with the door closed and leaves in silence. She’s happy, she’s just not what she used to be.

She tried to explain as much in the kitchenette the firm shares. There are only four of them; herself, Katya, Trixie and Bob - the boss lady. Bob does corporate, Katya does criminal, Trixie does the pro bono work and most of the kids’ stuff and Jan slogs away on divorces.

“I want to do something that feels meaningful,” she whined, pulling her turtleneck over her mouth as Bob pointed at the crossword question she couldn’t answer.

“Accumulation,” Katya said with a mouthful of apple that she crunched next to Jan’s ear, taking pleasure in the way the blonde scrunched her face up.

“Doesn’t fit the clue. It says impatience.” Bob reminded her, underlining it with her finger just to make a point.

“Anticipation,” Trixie yelled from the counter where she’d perched with her tea. “Jan use it in a sentence!”

“I anticipate going home.” Jan moaned to a cackle from the pink-clad woman. She stood, checking her turtleneck in the microwave door before leaving the kitchenette with a sigh.

So she’s waiting for Bob to come in and tell her to go home. It’s the middle of summer but it’s nearing seven and it’s a Friday. She’s got the weekend off for a wedding. She’d rather be in small claims court if she’s honest.

The idea of love becomes infinitely less appealing when you are surrounded by its decay at every turn. She’d rather just go home to her cat who she knows will always love her and cannot file a legal document saying it’s got irreconcilable differences and wants the house but none of the furniture.

No, Marceline would never.

Jackie opens the shop at six a.m. because she likes the feeling of the streets in the early morning. The sun is already up because it’s the middle of summer but the city still feels barren. It’s so quiet, she can hear her own heart among the calls of the birds. She enters ‘End Of The Aisle Weddings’ with a peppy smile and relaxed confidence and zero caffeine - saving that for her two p.m. pick me up when she and Rock can discuss their clientele over leftover wedding cake and hot drinks served in novelty mugs. It’s her favourite time of the day after opening.

She checks her planner almost immediately, plays her seventeen-ish voicemails while crossing things off the list and tacking on extra items that brides have found in a frenzy. She has one wedding coming up that should be fantastic but is also draining her more than usual with the number of requests the bride has. She gets about three calls a day making amendments and she’s more than happy to agree to them because most of the time she’s just a little drunk on the idea of being in love.

She calls the florist, the caterers and the photographer before Rock will be out of bed, skidding around the backroom’s slick floors in just her socks as she rearranges goodie bags and vases and table decorations organised by date.

Sometimes, she leans on the sage-green wooden table they use for meetings and looks through engagement photoshoots, planning her own. She imagines her hair in pin curls as her fiance dips her - probably in a field.

With their cat.

And some fairy lights.

She’s spent a lot of time hoping and dreaming and praying for her future wife to just walk through the door like they do in the romcoms she’s been born and raised on. She wants her ‘You’ve got Mail’ moment - a book with a rose in it and a woman she thought she hated but also loved. She wants someone to convince her to fall in love. She wants big moments and small gestures and the sweet warmth she sees in so many couples but she’s alone. It’s a cruel irony.

She hadn’t planned to be a wedding planner. She studies interior design and marketing at uni - interning at a wedding planner and never really leaving. She thought she’d do corporate, or events. Turns out, she’s pretty happy where she ended up.

Just a little lonely. Ever so slightly. Sometimes.

She brews another cup of chai and inhales the scent of cardamom pods, watching the business people on their ways to work through the big glass front windows - rain spattering on them like tiny droplets of light.

Jackie plans good weddings. She knows it’s not particularly objective but she knows she’s good at her job. By this point in the planning, she’s known the couple for close to a year so she’s pretty comfortable just to chill at the reception. She puts out fires where she’s needed in her white shirt and tailored black trousers - it’s typical attire for her - a black blazer hung on a hook somewhere, waiting for her exit. She’s comfortable, mobile and most importantly, she has pockets.

She knows she plans a good wedding which is why she’s just a little surprised to see (an objectively gorgeous) blonde woman sat at the bar, holding a tumbler of scotch. She’s in an off-the-shoulder yellow dress but somehow the summery look feels a little off-kilter when faced with her expression. It’s like it doesn’t fit her even though it fits her perfectly (objectively of course).

She scowls at the scotch before taking another sip and Jackie decides to approach as even though she’s terminally delightful she is not someone who enjoys the conga and it’s coming dangerously close.

She sidles up to the blonde girl, ordering a ‘sex on the beach’ with a smile to the bartender who she’s known for years. Jaida just winks, sliding over the drink and walking as far away as she can.

Jackie just sips her drink and watches for a minute or so until the girl flips her curls over her shoulder and stares her dead in the eyes. Her eyes are blue. A soul-piercing blue. But they look lost.

“Jan,” she announces, nonchalantly and Jackie has to blink a few times before she realises that the girl - Jan - is saying her name. She gives a frankly stupid little wave before she replies, voice full of amusement at her own stupidity.

“I’m Jackie. It’s lovely to meet you Jan,” she smiles, sipping her drink through the tiny straw Jaida always gives her after she spilt a particularly colourful cosmo down her old favourite shirt.

Jan nods towards her drink, “ Sex on the beach? All I’m getting from this wedding is a handshake in the garden.” She almost manages to maintain her slightly stormy demeanour but she cracks at the last second, blinding white teeth sparkling as Jackie has to hold onto the bar to stop herself falling off her chair in laughter.

“Not a wedding person?” Jackie asks, once she’s settled herself again and Jan tilts her head like she’s wondering why Jackie is bothering.

“I’m alone drinking expensive scotch at a bar,” Jan responds dryly. “I’m a divorce lawyer, I’m not exactly primed for this sort of thing. There is too much hope in this gazebo.”

Jackie feels the twinge of a smile at her cheeks and forces herself to look down for a second. “Fair enough, how do you know Rose and Nicky?”

Jan waves Jaida down and slips a tenner across the counter in exchange for another tumbler. She takes a long sniff and then a sip before she responds. “Rose - Rosé as we’ve called her ever since she chugged a bottle in uni - she was in my Law program - or at least the social work modules.” Jackie hums in approval and also a sort of understanding. She’s very good at putting the pieces together.

“You never planned to do divorces huh?” She asks but this time Jan’s the one to avert her gaze, staring ahead at the bottles of alcohol as Jackie rolls up the sleeves of her shirt - it’s a warm day and the gazebo holding the bar and the dancefloor isn’t particularly well vented, she’ll bring it up with the company when she gets back to the office.

“Damn Sherlock.” Jan chuckles when she finally comes up with her response, tugging her dress back off the shoulders from where it’s risen up to. “No, I’m trained for family court - name changes, adoptions, custody - the sort of thing with happy children and good, fulfilling life changes. I’m just naturally good at homewrecking.”

“It’s not homewrecking if they ask for it,” Jackie points out, tilting her glass in a way that makes her look a little bit drunker than she is but then again she’s been on the champagne since ten when Rose forced a glass into her hand and the caterers are so well trained they just top you up.

She stands up, wobbling a bit on her heels and the uneven grass. “Wait,” she mutters, Jan placing a guiding hand on her lower back for stability. “You don’t believe in love do you?” It makes Jan snort in a very unladylike way but Jackie is deadly serious. “I’m a wedding planner. I love love. But you don’t.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe in it,” Jan sighs dejectedly, helping Jackie back onto her stool and ordering her another drink, handing out tenners like they’re coins. “I just think it’s underwhelming and disappointing and never ends well. Women will disappoint me. My cat won’t.”

“You’ve never sounded gayer.” Jackie deadpans.

They look at each other inquisitively. Eyes drifting, searching.

“Only one of us wore a suit to a wedding.” Jan points out and they both burst into raucous laughter that makes the conga line (somehow still going) look at them a little strangely.

Jackie takes a deep breath and slams her empty glass on the table triumphantly.

“I’m going to make you believe in love.” She says with such conviction it’s impossible not to believe her. Her eyes twinkle. Jan wonders if this might be easier than either of them think.

“Okay.”

19:14

Janet are you busy?

19:18

Why.

19:21

I’m taking you to Karaoke.

Jan is pleasantly surprised to see Jackie in a mini dress but she’s also not mad about it. The dress is emerald green, hits just above her mid-thigh and is dangerously strappy and the heels Jackie paired with it make her legs look impossibly long. Jan also dressed up - but her purple mini dress feels more normal - less of a statement.

“Janet!” Jackie shouts from the entrance, clearly already tipsy even though it’s barely gone half-nine. She’s waving rather frantically and it takes willpower for Jan to move towards it instead of away but she reaches the girl who is warm and happy and she feels the stress in her shoulders melt away.

“Hi Jackie,” she sighs begrudgingly, holding the door for the brunette who practically skips into the bar that isn’t that empty. It’s a friday night. She should have expected it.

Jackie spins on her heels when they get inside and she gives Jan a once over with her eyes. “You’re not allowed whisky,” she decides after a little thought and Jan just stands there a little shellshocked as Jackie orders their drinks, winking at the bartender to get them quicker.

When she comes back to the high table Jan picked for them, she’s holding a glass of red wine and something that smells fruity which she sets in front of the blonde. Jan looks at it in disgust.

“What is that?” She asks, hoping she will like the answer.

“Pomegranate Mojito,” Jackie responds, looking smug and not at all phased by Jan’s death glare. “Drink up,” She says in a faux high-pitched tone and Jan mocks her as she sips the unnervingly pink drink.

She makes a face which makes Jackie almost spit out the wine she’d been drinking.

After about half an hour of watching drunk girls from the city university sing Taylor Swift off-key, Jackie decides they’re going to go up.

“I’m picking the song.” She demands and Jan raises an eyebrow, bemused.

“Okay Princess,” she responds because her drink is full again and it clearly had more alcohol than she’d been expecting. She’s a little disappointed that her whisky tolerance didn’t carry over into her weird cocktail tolerance - standing and immediately wishing she’d been sat down again.

Jackie once again leaves and returns smug, pushing the mojito towards Jan in a motion for the woman to down it which she does so dutifully - feeling it slide down immediately - smoother than the vodka shots she’d do in law school but still not quite her favourite scotch.

Bring it fucking on.

The first notes of ‘Nobody But You’ by Blake Shelton and Gwen Stefani play and all Jan feels is regret.

She should never have let Jackie on her Spotify. That was a secret.

She is, however, pleasantly surprised to hear Jackie nail Blake Shelton.