Jake can't even see Cougar's face, but he knows perfectly well what it looks like right now; he's seen Cougar's 'I'm so fucking pleased with myself' look enough times to be able to recreate it in his head perfectly.

"You hum," he counters, letting one hand slide under the rumpled tank top he's wearing to press flat against his belly. "I'd just fuck up the tune or whatever and then you'll get mad at me."