Summary:

Killgrave shows his surprise to Jessica

Notes:

as always huge thanks to my beta @KWhit90 (go read her awesome J/K stories)

Chapter III: When what's mine is yours

Jessica's POV

"You didn't expect this, did you?" Killgrave gloats. "Come on, I'll show you!" he takes me by the hand.

I am still so dazed that I don't even struggle, instead allowing myself to be carried away by him and his enthusiasm.

We walk down the path and reach the door, which he considers for a moment .

"Uh, that's right, I could always kick it down," Killgrave chuckles, retrieving one of the bags. "But it would be a bit overkill, especially if I have a valid alternative," he explains, opening the front pocket of the trolley.

He takes out a bunch of keys, one of which fits perfectly into the lock.

"Welcome to your home, Jessi!" he smiles, opening the door.

We are just at the entrance and I am already assailed by memories, everything is so identical to how I remembered it, every detail, every piece of furniture, every fucking painting.

I feel like I'm on the set of a horror movie, 'The Living Dead Houses' style.

We have just enough time to walk down a corridor, before a middle-aged man and woman come to meet us.

She's dressed as a maid and he's dressed as a chef.

"Up there are our rooms ..." the ruin of my life continues his description, regardless of their arrival.

"Mr. Killgrave, You're back! " exclaims the woman, with a strong South American accent.

"And you've brought company, I see," the man adds, his accent more difficult to determine .

"Alva, Laurent, this is Jessica and she will be our guest for a while, treat her as best as you can," Killgrave introduces me to them, with a big grin.

Wait a minute.

As I guessed, the two servants are looking at him in bewilderment, but they don't dare to ask questions.

I turn to him too, glaring.

And to think that I always thought intelligence and perceptiveness were qualities he possessed .

"What's wrong?" he frowns. "Oh, fuck!" he seems to figure it out, finally. His expression on my own perfectly styled features tell me as much .

I do what I didn't think I would have to again, at least not so soon.

I resort to using his power. Another, very damned but necessary, time.

"Jessica and I will be back right away and while you wait for us, forget what she said a while ago!" I ponder every word of the command I give to the two unfortunate people.

I drag Killgrave out of the house with me, not bothering to close the front door.

"You, idiot! Remember that you're me now ... when have you ever seen a hostage introducing her prison and staff to her executioner?" I try to reason with him.

"You're right, I didn't really think about it," he acknowledges, looking down sadly. "It's just that I couldn't wait to show you what I've done for you," he justifies, looking at me as if he was a rugby player who has just scored a try.

Wait, where the fuck did I get that comparison from?

Damn all those fucking rugby matches he used to make me watch with him!

"Anyway, there is a mistake in what you said," he resumes his speech. "You are certainly not my hostage. I will remind you that you yourself agreed to follow me." he regains his braggart attitude.

"Because I don't have any fucking alternative!" I snort, rolling my eyes. "Let's just go back inside, but this time leave the talking to me. I will act cheerful and pleased, you should play the badass, with the annoyed look I would have. " I instruct him and he nods.

We're about to reach the living room when I turn to him.

"Ehmm ... Killgrave, what did you say their names are?" I ask him in a low voice.

"Alva and Laurent. Jessi, you have a serious issue with people's names, "he rolls his eyes. "But I must say that you remember mine very well!" he clicks his tongue at me, with a sly look.

"It's hard to forget the ruin of your life!" I snap, before reaching the servants.

"Mr. Killgrave, You're back! " Alva exclaims.

"And you've brought company, I see," Laurent adds.

It looks like Killgrave and I used a time machine, but I know it's just the effect of my command.

At least, this time I know what to do.

I point to Killgrave and turn to them, trying to sound fancy, as he usually does.

"Alva, Laurent, this is Jessica and she will be our guest for a while," I begin in what I hope is a passable imitation of him as he shows off my best moody attitude.

Ah, but I have a surprise in store.

"Treat her... no more, no less as if she were one of you; as a matter of fact, I think she won't even mind giving you some help in the kitchen. "

Killgrave looks at me as if he wants to incinerate me.

You weren't expecting that, huh, my dear dandy?

"How dare you," he growls.

"I'm only giving you what you deserve, my darling!" I smile at him.

"But I have fresh hair," he protests.

"Nothing that peeling a few potatoes and washing a few dishes will ruin!" I counter, impassive.

I could swear I saw him turn pale, but it's gone in a moment as he returns to being combative .

"Whatever you prefer ... but know that I am very nervous at the moment and I don't know how much you want to let me approach a kitchen, with my power so unstable ...," he mumbles and I catch the veiled threat.

"Okay, you, unbelievable, fucking snob, I don't want to see this house go to pieces!" I relent, before changing my instructions to the two servants.

I don't get a chance to though, before the chef pipes up .

"Excuse me if I dare to ask, sir, but... is she that Jessica? The one that you were waiting for so eagerly? " Laurent ventures.

"The Jessica for whom everything had to be perfect and who you wanted to treat like a princess?" Alva backs up her colleague.

I look at Killgrave and there is something indecipherable in his ... in my eyes.

Was this really his plan?

"Killgrave, you have servants who are a bit too talkative!" he complains.

He obviously didn't want to be discovered this way ... or did he? I mean, he told me he loves me, not even twenty-four hours ago!

"Well, I'm totally free to change my mind and this doesn't have to be your business!" I burst out. "Okay, treat her well... but not too much! And now take my luggage upstairs and then you can go and cook, anything but pasta amatriciana! " I command and Killgrave glares at me terribly.

This will teach you to fall in love with me!

Killgrave's POV

I didn't expect the unpleasant trickery that Jessica played on me, involving Alva and Laurent.

What the bloody hell am I saying? It's Jessica, I should expect everything from her.

By the way, didn't she take advantage of the hours she was without me to get more Sufentanil, did she? Besides, now that she is me, it would be extremely easy for her.

Bloody hell, I can't even have my guard search her, let alone ask Jessica to be searched.

Wait a minute. What if she had previously obtained it? Maybe I have it in my jacket ... no, I don't think so.

But then if she injected me... now that I'm her it would take a much stronger dosage to stun me... right?

"So, are you going to show me the rest of the house or not," my own voice distracts me from my thoughts, with a bored tone.

"Huh? Of course, I'll show you the way ..., " I answer, approaching the stairs, then I turn around suddenly.

It's not very safe for me to turn my back to her.

"Actually, no, go ahead, that's better," I urge her.

She barely holds back a chuckle.

"Are you afraid of finding yourself with a syringe in your neck?" she deduces, amused.

Evidently we can read each other like an open book.

I don't even have to nod, she already has it all figured out.

"You can rest assured, it's not in my plan; it's true that I can't control you but I need you alive, awake and conscious, we have to face this thing together, "she answers, exposing her cards.

"Is this why you haven't run to the police to confess my crimes?" I put her on the spot, as I follow her up the stairs .

"I beg your pardon?"

She's been me for not even twenty four hours and she already sounds like me so bloody much.

"Come on, Jessi, I'm not an idiot, I know you were aiming to get a confession from me, perhaps by secretly recording me."

She looks at me like a deer caught in the headlights of a car and this is a more than eloquent answer.

"Well, now you are the confession yourself, why don't you go back to the police station? Yesterday you were so excited about going to jail! "

"Yesterday I had my fucking reasons!" my detective growls.

Now she's sounding very much like my dear Jessica.

"The idea of getting me behind bars doesn't appeal to you that much anymore, huh?"

"Leaving a fake super heroine with destructive power on the loose? I don't even want to think about it! " she shrugs.

"Oh, but I would only use my destructive power to come and set you free!" I wink at her.

"None of that will happen. And, are you going to show me my room or what? I'm quite tired and would like to rest a little, " she snorts.

"Of course, your room. In this house what's mine is yours. "

"Fuck yeah it is, this used to be my fucking home!"

I pass the room that belonged to her little brother without saying anything so as not to arouse painful memories and arrive at hers.

I don't miss the expression on her face as she looks around, the way she observes the 'Do not enter' sign hanging on the door, the posters and CDs on the shelves, identical to the ones she had when she was a teenager.

"I used a lens to get a better look at the details of the photos I got from the old realtor," I explain, pompously.

"What, do you want a round of applause? Just because you once asked me where my happiest memories were and I told you they were in my house? "

"So you remember it!" I smile at her.

"I'm shocked that you remember!"

"Jessica, you hurt me. I remember everything important about you. "

She looks at me without saying anything, but I know that look very well: I know she is taking me seriously.

However, I feel the duty to break that silence between us.

"I should have let you find a dress on the bed, but it wouldn't have made sense. You know what? I might as well put it on me," I reveal, sitting on the bed.

"Hey! Okay, what's mine is yours, but get out of there now," she chases me away and I acquiesce, remaining leaning against the wall.

"You know, I was thinking about what you did before, with that taxi driver...," I resume trying to have a conversation with her. "You did well. Certain visions must remain mine alone. "

"If you really want, you can go in front of a mirror and lift your T-shirt as many times as you want, you would spontaneously get nothing from me!" she hisses.

"Yes, it's true, I could, but it's no fun like this ..." I mutter.

"Let me understand, would you rather me start unbuttoning my shirt to reveal a chest, your own chest to you?"

Jessica doesn't just ask me this, she really begins to unbutton herself, with a slowness that kills me and with every inch of exposed skin that shows up in front of my eyes I feel a sensation of moist heat in the lower abdomen.

As the born teaser that she is, she gets closer and closer to me, until she is only one breath away from my face.

However, she seems to notice how I am reacting.

"Oh come on, it can't really turn you on ... it's your fucking body!" she frowns at me, quickly buttoning up her shirt.

"Yeah... nope, I don't know, bloody hell! It is because you are doing it, in whatever body you are, it would have this effect on me, even if it is my body, because it is different ... arrgh, this situation is driving me crazy! " I rant, in obvious trouble.

"An issue which we finally can agree upon," she admits.

"What? That I can turn you on, in whatever body I am? " I raise an eyebrow.

"Nooo, the issue that this situation is driving us crazy, you idiot!" she rectifies immediately.

It's already the second time that she calls me that, not that I like it, but it's something else that captures my interest.

Jessica overheated way too much to deny that truth, because I'm more than sure she's denying it.

I point at the T-shirt I'm wearing.

"Do you want further proof of the effect you have on me? Here we go, look at my... well at your nipples, they are so prominent, they almost hurt me. Maybe it's because you always wear those jackets and scarves that I have never been able to see them. "

"Yes, of course, that's the reason!" she pours all her sarcasm on me.

"So I don't turn you on ..." I look deeply into her eyes.

"In no possible way, if anything you disgust me!" she barks.

"When we were together I turned you on, a lot!"

"When we were together you just commanded me, asshole!"

Okay, I preferred 'idiot'.

"I didn't even need to command some of your reactions," I throw back at her. "I think I can unleash something even now ..." I get even closer to her.

"Oh please, this cock is softer than a stuffed animal!" she denigrates me.

Surprisingly, I grab her crotch with one hand and feel a noticeable and familiar stiffness.

"Liar!" I enjoy my triumph, grinning.

She violently pulls my hand away and pushes me away as well.

"Keep your fucking hands off me! And that ... that doesn't mean a damn thing, if anything, it only proves that I turn myself on. I know I'm super sexy and you're in my body, after all!" she gets defensive.

Jessi, Jessi, this is called scrambling and you aren't even doing it very well.

"I'm so tired that it must send my hormones out of balance," she finds a new excuse, rubbing her face with her hands. "Fuck, it's like running your hands over sandpaper, how the hell could you stand it?" she asks me, even though I'm willing to bet it's just a technique to change the subject.

"Well, that's part of my charm." I reply, smiling proudly.

"You can have a lot of charm even with a face smoother than a baby's little butt, what the fuck are you making me say?" she seems to want to bite her tongue.

My smile just gets bigger.

"I really think I'll go and shave before I sleep," she complains, before pushing me towards the doorway.

"I'll help you." I offer myself.

She looks at me skeptically.

"You?! With my strength that you don't even know how to control? I said 'shave me' not 'behead me'! "

In fact, she has a point, perhaps I am not yet ready to hold sharp objects in my hand.

"Let's do this, just give me two, three hours of rest and maybe then we'll have tea together and I'll try to be pleasant ..." she offers me a compromise and I accept, leaving her alone.

Jessica's POV

I make sure Killgrave has gone to his room, wherever it is, and then I go back to the hallway to drag the bags to my room.

His servants would have objected a little if I had asked them to take what are Killgrave's baggage to his guest's room.

I open both suitcases and pull out something like ten different fucking suits, in every variant of blue, purple or gray.

You, damn dandy snob!

I don't seem to see a razor, I try one of the inside pockets and bingo: there is a beauty case with everything: electric razor, lotion and aftershave.

I go out into the corridor again with everything I need and lock myself in the bathroom.

I search on the internet for the first tutorial on how to shave that gives me some confidence, I make those motions my own and I start, hoping that in the beauty case there is also an emergency kit if I end up bleeding out.

Twenty minutes and a few cuts later, I can feel proud of the result, I finally have a smooth and caressable face.

Since I'm already in the bathroom I'll take the opportunity to take a shower too.

I only go out with a knotted cloth to cross the corridor, once I'm dried.

Fortunately, there is no one who sees me re-enter my room like this, but even if it were, they would just see a shirtless man, a shirtless man as there are millions in the world.

Okay no, maybe not millions so beautiful ...

Shit. Wait a minute. What the fuck did I just say?

As before, when I deliberately told Killgrave that he is always charming, in any way, even now that he is me? Luckily at least I didn't admit this last thing out loud.

It's because I'm exhausted. It's just simple, fucking tiredness that's making me think these weird things.

I put the suitcases back on the floor, one at a time because I can no longer lift them both together and lie down, fresh from the shower, lulled by the good lavender scent of the bedspread which, thank goodness, is not purple, but with a colored pattern on a blue background, like what I had when I was a kid.

It's creepy how every detail fits together ... but at the same time, in a very distorted way, it's almost ... tender ?!

Damn me, I really need to sleep.

I lay my head on the soft pillow and close my eyes.

I reopen them about a couple of hours later, getting dressed before Killgrave raids my room since I only have a towel on.

He certainly wouldn't be intimidated by the sign hanging outside.

I find the underwear, put on the pants of the gray suit and strangely I also find a plain white T-shirt, which probably must have ended up among his things by mistake.

I'm already starting to feel more like me.

I go down to the dining room and that's where I find Killgrave.

As I became more comfortable, he must have had the same idea as me.

"Looks like you have to go to a Gran Gala dressed up like this." I mutter as I stare at him with the formal purple, glittery, sleeveless dress, with a sweetheart neckline.

"And you are so ... simple," he replies.

And, no, he doesn't mean it as a compliment at all.

"It was my gift to you," he resumes the conversation. "At least it proved to be useful. I missed wearing something haute couture. "

"I would have torn it to shreds if I had found it as a gift from you," I counter, taking my place at the head of the table, with him already on the other side.

I reach out for a couple of sweet rolls on the table, eating them in alternating bites.

As a matter of fact, now that I think about it, I haven't even had lunch.

Killgrave must have the same problem as me, even though he prefers a triple chocolate cupcake and he eats it much more decently.

I'm not used to seeing myself so graceful.

"My poor face ... you made me lose all my dark handsome allure!" he complains, before grabbing the second cupcake, this time with blueberries.

"Shut up, three days and everything grows back, I'll have to see that showgirl fringe for months!"

Alva arrives and brings us tea, two steaming cups of a not very reassuringly colored water.

"Mr. Killgrave, did you see? Miss Jessica appreciated your gift and she looks amazing in it . You have such a good taste. " Alva compliments me, throwing a smile at Killgrave too, before leaving us.

"Tell me, did you order her to want to see us ending up together?" I question him with a grim expression.

"Nope, really, I haven't talked to her for days, you know I was at the McCarthys ... did you, maybe?" he provokes me.

I almost choke on the sweet roll

"Woe to me if I did!"

"So does it mean that dear Alva is thinking with her head, and who could blame her? You and I are a fabulous couple, even swapped! " he smiles slyly.

"Oh please, make sure you drink your tea and say less bullshit!" I roll my eyes, exasperated.

"Alva brought tea to us both."

"I didn't drink it even when I was your slave and I certainly won't now." I get up from the table, looking for a locked cabinet that was forbidden to me when I was fourteen.

But I haven't been fourteen for a long while and I want to find out if Killgrave really respected every detail.

"This is a detail I really appreciate!" I return to the table with a bottle of whiskey.

"You shouldn't drink..." he mumbles.

"What's mine is yours!" I mock him, drinking straight from the bottle.

Killgrave looks at me reproachfully, but he doesn't have to do it for long; not because his gaze has any effect on me, but because it's my stomach that turns after only a few sips.

That is his stomach.

As a matter of fact, he has never been much of a drinker.

"Shit, so there's no fun in that. I was hoping so much to give you cirrhosis of the liver when you were back inside your body, but it seems that your sissy body does not hold more than two glasses at the most! " I snort.

"What a curious fact, yours, on the other hand, seems to appreciate tea without problems!" he chuckles, drinking from his cup.

Stupid, traitor body!

"It's better this way, at least you won't ruin your stomach before our dinner." he says.

"Dinner? With you?" I frown at him.

"Well it doesn't make sense to make poor Alva and Laurent work twice as hard by having them serve two dinners at different times, does it?" he plays the clever card of empathy.

"And since when do you give a damn about what's more beneficial to other people?" I look at him skeptically.

"Since when is it beneficial to me. Come on, Jess, what's the big deal? Just a dinner together. I certainly didn't dress like this just to have tea. "

"Okay, pain in the ass, but only because I'm starving. And don't expect me to dress more elegant! " I give up and he smiles accommodatingly.

"It seems like a valid compromise to me."

TBC

Notes:

You have no idea how much fun I am planning this story, I hope you enjoy reading it. ^^