Getting the shirt out of the room wasn't so difficult, because Taeyeon responded to like a child to a pacifier - impossible to wake up, almost. Jessica had gotten relatively adept at slipping out in the middle of the night for a bathroom break, and Taeyeon hadn't let her take the shirt off, so. Same as always; except this time, tip-toeing down the stairs, past Taeyeon's mom's bedroom, and wondering if there were matches or a safety lighter to be found anywhere in this house.

Also: where, exactly, did one burn a shirt in the middle of summer, in a house that doesn't even have a fireplace?

She passed a mirror in the hallway and for a second, it was like Oi—the pig looked slightly frightened, which was of course ridiculous, because shirts don't look frightened.

Jessica scowled and flipped herself off, and then moved on to the kitchen; if there were matches anywhere, they were likely to be near the stove, after all.

She found some in the most corner drawer. Gingerly picking through the odd assortment of things, Jessica saw: a bottle opener, two old garage sale's pamphlets, soothers, an ice pick, an ancient prescription, a disposable camera, and a crinkled -though quite recent- photo of an aggrieved-looking Taeyeon and her smiling mother. Jessica didn't have to study the image long to notice Taeyeon was wearing... the shirt.

's sake. Jessica rolled her eyes. Oink.

She wanted to steal the photograph, but she palmed the matches instead and looked around the kitchen until she found a bottle of barely-used cooking wine. It'd serve well enough as an accelerant.

Items in hand, she suddenly had no clue what to do next. For one thing, she was wearing the thing, so unless she wanted to go half- once she'd done the deed, she'd need something to wear...

It was then, pondering how to go about destroying Oink, that Jessica really paused. She thought of how much Taeyeon seemed to love the shirt—and, okay, it was extremely unnatural, really, but she loved it. Him. Whatever. Much as she hated the thing, much as its very existence confused her, Jessica didn't think she could do something like that—she didn't want to see Taeyeon hurt, not ever.

It just couldn't work, setting the shirt on fire; not without losing Taeyeon. She was going to have to beat Oink some other way, and right when she was starting to think that maybe she might need Tiffany's help with this -who probably burned her boyfriends' clothing all the time, and probably had some alternative suggestions when burning is not an option- an idea struck her.

She ambled back over the drawer of collected whatever, gingerly moved the bottle opener, put the matches back in, and picked up the disposable camera with a sigh.

She wasn't 100% sure that cooking wine could be generally consumed, but if she was going to be the best girlfriend ever, well. The alternative would be going back upstairs into Taeyeon's room and dipping into her endless supply of beers, but she and Oink were going to have to reach some sort of understanding about who was boss, here, and risking Taeyeon waking up before that happened was not an option.

Now or never, Jessica thought, and picked up a kitchen chair, bottle of wine tucked under one arm, camera under the other. Once back in the hallway, she nervously looked up the stairs, but since Taeyeon's mom hadn't once said anything about how loud their was, apparently all the Kims slept like the dead.

She put the chair down, stared at Oink in the mirror and sighed deeply. Once sat down, she unscrewed the bottle of wine and took one sip before grimacing, because -worse than Yoona's cucumber sandwich, God, truly minging- but it's all she had, so she steeled herself, drank a few more swallows, and then grandly put the bottle down.

"So," she said, to Oink—or well, to herself, because she wasn't the one with an intimate friendship with a t-shirt. "Let's see which one of us she likes better after this."

There were fifteen pictures left; more than enough.

She straddled the chair and let out a deep breath. Her cheeks were flushed, she saw, which honestly wasn't surprising considering this wasn't the sort of thing she did every day. Or, like, ever. Briefly, she wondered if Tiffany had ever taken y photographs for a boyfriend, then very quickly dismissed the thought because a) there was little Tiffany hadn't done, probably, and b) Jessica really, really didn't want to know.

So she sat there for a bit, camera held aloft, imagining what Taeyeon would want to see. She struck exactly one pose and promptly burst into laughter, covering with her free hand in an attempt to stifle the noise. Christ, she really wasn't cut out for this. Two, three more swigs of wine later only produced a mild sickness and the returning notion that this wasn't as fantastic an idea as it had first seemed. Jessica pursed her lips, squared her shoulders and said, to herself, not the pig, "Right, well, where would I even develop these?" She rolled her eyes and added, "This doesn't mean you win, you know? God, you're so ridiculous. Idiot. Oink. Oinkkkkkk."

Someone cleared their throat and Jessica nearly fell out of the chair.

"What are you doing, Jessica?"

She almost dropped the bottle of wine, but instead just fumbled the camera until it dropped between her legs, which obviously didn't make any of this any better, at all, and really, though she was grateful for having learned good manners somewhere, there wasn't really any Godly way to get out of this intact. Not that she wouldn't try.

"Oh Christ, I just, err—" was her best effort.

Taeyeon's mom raised an eyebrow and folded her arms together.

"This really, really isn't what it looks like," Jessica tried, wondering if her head could actually literally explode from embarrassment.

"That's probably for the best," Taeyeon's mom retorted mildly, "because it looks like you're drinking my cooking wine while trying to take what I am assuming are meant to be pictures of yourself. Or did you just misplace your pants somewhere?"

Jessica felt fall open, but other than a horrified squeak nothing else came out.

"Also... oh, God, are you wearing that shirt?" Taeyeon's mom said, and then rolled her eyes spectacularly, in a way that made Jessica briefly wonder -in a distant part of her brain that wasn't just dying all over the place- if maybe it was a genetic trait. "Right, well, if I have to deal with another