Author's Note: Vaguely inspired by the early part of Thursday's episode. Before the ending. Title taken from the song by The Raconteurs.
In his life, Jackson had known many women.
They came, and they stayed for a while, but they tended to leave as easily as they came. He could just move on from them, move on like not much had changed - but every time, the faded edges of the memories served to further propel him forward.
And then there was April. April, who served as the personification of everything that he was not - faithful when he was faithless, scared where he was confident.
And he loved her.
Not in the same way he had loved the other women who came before her, though there were similarities. He loved her, and wanted to be with her, and would put down roots to be with her, if that's what she wanted out of him. Even though he wasn't a rooted man by nature. He would spin her around the reception at their wedding, carry her over the threshold into their new place - their place, no one else's - and she would laugh that laugh of hers that he always loved to hear, with her infectious grin, and press a kiss - or two, or eight - into the side of his neck. And he would be lost in her and what she brought to his life.
Maybe they could have a kid or two - he didn't want to be the Seattle version of Papa Duggar, but a child with his looks and April's brains would carry them so far in life. And he wanted to meet that child. One day.
He looked down at April, curled into his side, and breathed in deep; he inhaled the scent of her floral shampoo and the faint smell of something else, and he closed his eyes. One day, they could have all of what he wanted. Because he was positive that one day - if not today, one day - April would want those things too.
And if he was lucky, it would be with him.