Stolen from Future Mom

What Your Peanut Butter And Jelly Sandwich Means

Your eating style is gluttonous. If you like something, you're going back for seconds... no matter how full you are! You don't really have a sweet tooth. If you go for dessert, you tend to go for something light. Your taste in food tends to be pretty flexible. You may crave sushi one night, and your favorite childhood recipe the next. You're a self loathing middle class person. You act a lot classier than you are, and you secretly feel like a fraud. You are a tough person who isn't afraid to live life fully. There isn't a lot that scares you. You are laid back and extremely easygoing. You never make a fuss, and you try to enjoy every moment.

What Does Your Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich Say About You?

Okay, half that crap? Not even remotely true.

Freaks.

[Like Father Like Daughter] You were so good to me, so good for me...

"Pops?"

He was in his and Baileigh's room, stripping off his shirt, spattered lightly with surgical grime. He stank a little of soap and alcohol and shit...she'd gotten used to it in the time she'd been around him. It was actually starting to be a familiar, comforting smell...kind of like her mother's old Elizabeth Arden perfume.

Cain jerked his chin at her, turning to face her with his hands on his hips and his features set in a scowl. "Yo...'sup, babe?"

Sporting the same scowl, Hank walked into the room and up to him...then in a move that felt way better than it should have, hopped up on the bed and stood next to Cain, wrapping her arms around his neck and hanging on him slightly. His bare skin was warm through her clothes, his solid muscle hard against her body. He was a wall of warmth and strength...and safety.

All for her.

"Will you do the quiz on my blog? Mom's got some perfume she'll give me if ya do." she declared bluntly.

"What? No fuckin' way..."

"Oh, what's yer trauma? It's not that bad!" she protested.

"It's stupid shit, and I don't wanna." he growled, narrowing his eyes at her as one hand reflexively went to rest against her waist...steadying her, balancing her. Looking after her without even thinking about it, like he'd been there all along.

"I hate 'em, too, but I want that perfume." she shot back, the arms around Cain's neck tightening...she was no longer hanging, but hugging, resting her head on his shoulder. "It's two fucking seconds, quit yer bitching."

"I ain't bitching...you playing me?"

"Yes."

"Jesus Christ...fucking fine. Soon as I shower, I just got off my shift."

Smirking, Hank lifted her head and kissed his cheek. "You're the shit, Pops...the motherfuckin' man."

The hand on her waist slid around to hook her in a hug, embracing her briefly. "Whatever, brat. Get out, I want a shower."

Hank released him long enough to step off the bed, then impulsively hugged him for real. Arms around his waist, she rested her head against his broad, hairy chest, listening to his heart for a second.

"I love you, ya know. You're kind of the best thing that ever happened to me."

She felt his arms go around her...then his lips against the top of her head. "Love you too, Henrietta. And you fucking awe the shit out of me."

She held on for a couple of minutes before drawing back and walking out of the room...and out of her father's arms, where she didn't mind if she was Henrietta just long enough to feel just how much she was loved.