Hey There, Delilah

Times are Changing

Song: late night vibes playlist by How Are You ?

Ambrose let out a low groan as he laid face down on his bedroom floor. Jill walked up and down his aching back. Her small feet soothed the knots that'd been building up over the past couple of days.

It would almost be heavenly if Vincent wasn't squawking away somewhere above him like a dying bird.

"Ambrose, are you listening to me?"

"No," he replied, face squished into a pillow. "Go away, Vincent. I've done enough favors for you tonight."

Vincent huffed, trying to wrench the pillow out from under Ambrose's firm grasp. In response he merely tightened his grip. Ambrose grunted, jerking his body forward and dragging a giggling Jill along with him.

"Don't make me throw you. You know I will." Ambrose glared at the blob of Vincent's silky pajamas through blurry eyes. He gave one last harsh tug and hugged the pillow like a child calling dibs. "What? What is so damn important now, hm?"

Vincent shoved Ambrose's glasses onto his face then pointed at the expensive dishes before him. "Tada!"

Jill leaned forward, digging her knees into his back and drawing out another groan. A month ago that would've sent her into heat (like in those books her and Vincent secretly read, teehee) but now? Now all she felt was shame for her past self.

Her support group had slapped a lot of sense into her the first time she spilled about him. Having seven people wreck her with good intentions and zero sugar coating turned out to be exactly what she needed.

Embarrassment and well meaning humiliation were wonderful teachers for reigning in one's horny self. And, apparently, so was compassion and understanding.

It's easy to fall for a man when he's always saving you. Learning to separate your trauma from your savior isn't easy but it's worth it. Friendship is the only relationship you need in your life right now, babe.

That's what Linda, the group's therapist, said last week. Then when Jill showed everyone a picture of Ambrose she was the first one to fan herself. She even made a joke about needing a tall glass of water to quench her thirst.

Jill really liked that crazy old bat.

"What's all this for?" she asked, motioning towards the rows of spoons and forks. "And where did you get this stuff?"

She'd cleaned this entire apartment from top to bottom and she never saw any of the cutlery before her.

"Kiki is a heavy sleeper," was all Vincent said before turning his attention back to Ambrose. "So? What do you recognize?"

"Well," Ambrose picked up a fork, "it appears to be a fork. It feels like a fork. So, I think, and I hope I'm right here, that this utensil might be a fork."

Jill hummed when Ambrose glanced over his shoulder, holding it up with a blank stare. "You're right. That does look like a fork."

Vincent let out a long sigh as he arranged the placing into a more formal setting. "Vi strangolerò entrambi."

"I know my Italian isn't as good as it used to be. But did he just say he wants to strangle me?"

Ambrose snorted, redirecting her weight to his lower back. "Close. He wants to strangle us both."

"Ah, how rude."

"The rudest."

"Will you just—" Vincent pressed his hands to his eyes. An insomniac ridden giggle erupted from his glossy lips. His hands tightened into fists. After taking a deep breath he dropped his hands. Once he was back to his normal self there was only a touch of annoyance and sleep deprivation crossing his features. "You need to know this stuff or they're gonna eat you alive at the wedding."