[ he just watches her in preparation for it not staying down. he doesn't think he's ever seen her this drunk before and it's strangely... fascinating. that could just be the late hour and sleep deprivation, honestly. he isn't processing much of anything quickly or well. frank takes a long sip of his coffee to stall.
words claw up his throat that he knows she won't accept. i missed you at the forefront of the pack. she's all he thinks about most of the day anymore, and all of the night. what is he supposed to do when she just goes radio silent for ages like that? he thought they were over that stage in their relationship but apparently not. do they even have a relationship? he's starting to feel like the drunk one the more his thoughts wage war on him. he has to say something if only to silence the voices in his head. ]
Why did you come here, Jess? [ it's soft. a tone usually reserved for just her. he looks like he could fall asleep right here, but he's resisting with everything he has. ]
[ Jess manages to wrestle it down though it takes the better part of a minute and feels much longer than that. but all that means is that the second sip can't be worse, immunizing her to discouragement. she can't believe he's still watching her. beyond that, she doesn't mind with a veil of whiskey thrown over her eyes. it's all the same when she's focusing on the coffee in her cup; and that's relaxing, almost, since normally she can still sense it. ]
Trish can't see me like this. [ she hears the words in her head and in the air the same time, yet she also feels the distinct pause in between thinking and speaking, and lurches forward anyway. it surpasses unfair to foist her alcoholic ass on a recovered addict, not to mention it's shitty and reductive of Jess to think of her that way, and neatly tying it together are the inescapable comparisons they may draw, however involuntarily, between Jess's before and after. with Frank there's a little less to avoid dealing with. ] I came to fuck with you instead.
[ his forehead creases when she finally speaks, a tiny involuntary sigh pushing out from between his lips. it really was stupid that he didn't know... that he still doesn't know, so much about her. they both just love torturing themselves, and as a result, each other.
frank nods in dumb acceptance of her proposal, his head thumping against the wall audibly once. this is going to be an even longer night than it already had been, and yet he'd rather be here than anywhere else. ] Okay. Give it your best shot.
How sturdy's that couch? [ the deeply private darkness of her humour slashes a sliver a grin into the edges of her mouth and she swirls her mug very carefully. it can't be expensive, she's certain of that, so she won't feel guilty about not paying to replace it in the extremely probable case that she breaks it. her dreams are going to be vivid as fuck with Frank's presence fully refreshed in her mind and haloed in an alcohol haze. coffee is her last chance to get out of sleeping. aware it will fail her, she tries to get as much down as possible, gulping twice.
Jess can tell immediately that she's made a mistake and scrambles to her feet, using the wall as support. she waves vaguely in Frank's direction to assuage his doubtless concern, hears her boot knock over the O'Harren's, keeps rushing until the bathroom door clatters closed behind her and she's retching into the toilet. mostly. into the toilet. ]
[ he opens his mouth to answer: not very. he still intends on bullying her into taking the bed, even if it's only marginally better. at least it's on the floor and more-or-less unbreakable. but then he sees it happen, her tipping point. he wants to follow her but she waves for him to stay.
his hand reaches out, lightning quick, to grab the bottle before it drains out. though he realizes he should have just let it. he grimaces at the sound of her throwing up, doubtlessly on an empty stomach. frank takes a long swig of the whiskey for himself before getting up to clean up the mess.
frank carts their mugs to the kitchen and then grabs his towel from the front of the oven to sop up the alcohol before it stains already hopelessly stained floors. he leaves the towel on the floor next to the bottle, only dregs left in but he's worried she'll need it so he saves it for her. and then he makes his way to the bathroom after her, because he can't listen to her this time. he can't let her push him away.
at least, he likes to think that, making his way across the scant space and kneeling down behind her. frank pushes her hair over the opposite shoulder so she'll hopefully miss most of it as she empties what little she has into the toilet. his other hand steadies on her lower back. ]
[ once she starts to throw up, she wants to, just to get it over with. she changes her mind as soon as she can catch a breath, overcome with shame and loathing for the wasted liquor. the bottle she got blacklisted for, that she forcefully separated their combined association with by ensuring someone in there doesn't want her. she changes her mind again once the eye of the storm passes and her stomach buckles, turning itself inside out to expel contents it doesn't have. when he kneels to crowd her, she plants a hand on his collarbone to push him away, just never gets to the second part as another heave wracks the sides of her throat for the remaining bile. ]
Ugh, shit. [ her breath spills out hard from the exertion, her abdomen curled into such tense knots she isn't sure she won't vomit again and what would even come up if she did. Jess spits into the soiled water, blinking lightheadedly. she shuts her mouth as hard as if she could staple it, gluing her tongue to the bottom of her mouth and closing her eyes until the nausea finishes with her. ]
[ he knows the hand on his chest was meant to push him away, but since she never does, he stays. he rubs her back, an occasional shh making it from his lips unbidden. he stays with her silently this way for as long as it takes, because he wants to and for no other reason.
when she's finally done, he gives one last rub though he's sure it's anything but reassuring. ] I'll be right back. [ he knows she can't go anywhere so he doesn't worry about that, filling up a glass from the tap and bringing it back to her. he gets ibuprofen out of the medicine cabinet and places both on the tile far enough away that she won't accidentally knock them over. he sits down this time with his back against the tub to watch over her, ignoring the vomit dripping over the side of the bowl onto his floor. ]
[ she wills him to go away on his own, lacking the fortitude of heart to do it herself. eventually it works, and while he's out of the room, she shifts from her knees to her ass. messily freeing it from the roll, she wipes her mouth with toilet paper that she then tosses into the toilet bowl and flushes with the liquid remnants of what passed for her meals that day.
she was unable to tell him "you don't have to do that" before he up and left but she thinks she has a handle on her gag reflex by the time he's sitting down. as long as she doesn't move any part of her body below her neck. that's feasible, right? ]
For the record- [ a twinge at the back of her throat halts her but proves to be a false alarm. she pushes through the rest of her sentence before taking a breath ] this is not my best shot.
[ that twitch of a smile comes back and he nods, acknowledging her admission for whatever it means to her. to him, it means... that she came here, perhaps unwittingly, to be cared for. to the one person who was as stubborn as her. it feels like something has given between them, again. two steps forward one back, generously, but tonight is different all over again. he likes this. he wants this more than all the rest. but he doesn't say any of that of course, knowing logically how insane it is. ]
Uh-huh. Well, I'll give you a chance for Round 2 in the morning. How's that?
[ morning, fuck. she's her worst in the morning. that means he'll probably fall in love with her or something. as soon as she wakes up, she has to get lost.
the most mindful she's ever been, Jess reaches for the glass of water and slides it along the tiles to be in front of her. looking at the gently swishing water, she wants to be sick again. Jess closes her eyes and breathes as evenly as she can, her head swaying regardless of her attempts to keep it still. cursing, she slides the glass away from her and scoots close to the toilet. that's enough for her stomach to revolt a last time, Jess heaving twice dryly before spitting up translucent vomit that leaves her throat and mouth burning. ]
Shit, fuck. [ Jess rasps and digs the heels of her palms into her eye sockets, exhaustion renewed because for a split second there, with the unabsorbed poison purged from her system, she legitimately felt better. like an idiot. instead of leaning on the toilet to stabilize herself, she props her elbows on her knees and keeps her head cradled by her brow until the small dark world behind her eyelids catches up to her in settling the fuck down. ]
[ his not-a-smile-yet drops completely at the words, knowing he doesn't like them but it takes a second to catch up to what they even mean, in context. frank watches her thoughtfully as he ever does, not jumping to help when he knows there's nothing he can do. her system will tell her when its through punishing her for her attempts to obliterate her own liver. he doesn't feel bad for her, since she did it to herself. but he certainly doesn't derive any pleasure from seeing her this way: in pain. it makes him feel helpless, which is exactly what he's always been when it comes to jessica goddamn jones. ]
That about sums it up. [ he agrees, tipping his head. he knows he has to say it now, that he has to respond to her neverending attempts to push him away with more than just acquiescence. it isn't in his nature and he's sick of fighting what he wants. especially when he's almost certain now she wants it too. with that one phrase he's realized that she's been fighting herself more than she ever fought him. and it was only his own self-loathing that kept him from seeing the truth. ]
No. Nothing works on me. You know why? Because the moment I saw you, I knew... I knew that I was gonna be here, watching you throw up at five am. If you vanish on me again, I'm gonna come find you. Because I'm an annoying, stubborn bastard who doesn't care that you hate yourself. Join the goddamn club. If being around each other makes life even a fraction of a percent of fucking liveable, then what's the point in fighting it?
[ there that's it. he's done. he knows... that he might have to make good on his threat to follow her right now. that she's annoying and stubborn enough to go out into the blizzard shitfaced. but he'll do it. she's pushed him to this and he's grateful for it. ]
[ Jess listens to him rant and rail, words beating at her head until they break through. her fingers curl at the crown of her scalp, tugging her hair at the roots and tangling it between her knuckles. now what the fuck is he saying? and if it shouldn't matter anyway then why is making herself listen so gruelling? before he gets to the question, an answer hits her with the subtlety of a freight train: god, the last time he went off, it hurt so much.
she does hate herself, for letting him have that amount of influence not in how she reacts, but in how she feels. for spending over a week hacking that pain into manageable pieces and stowing them in the familiar hiding spots of her other issues. for opening her mouth as she's about to and ridding herself of the most rancid thing to root inside her ]
I'm never going to be like her. [ it's a stony mumble as she releases her head, arms dropping. in some ways, she already is, enough to lure him to her in the first place, to smack him with that serendipity moment in the coffee shop, but it will never enough to satisfy him and he may not be able to stop himself from wanting it. there's no one to blame for any of this and that's the hardest part to deal with. it makes sense to put it on herself when she consistently fails to find comfort in or even recall his reassurance that Jess is who he chooses when confronted with the memory of a woman capable of so much more than she is. ]
[ the words hit him like a blow, after the initial shock of it, he's looking at her still. his expression is as open and readable as ever, the big bad punisher... who wears his heart on his goddamn sleeves. frank reaches out for whatever he can connect with, his hand settling on her knee and squeezing. even in this state, he wants to hold her. he wants to curl up next to her and forget the rest of the world is even out there in that snowy abyss.
most of all, he's just so grateful that she's still here. ] No, you're not. [ and if that's what he was looking for here he'd have blown his brains out already. but for as much as jess knows about him on paper, she doesn't know his heart and his head. not like maria did. and yet he'd said goodbye to her, willfully. before he'd ever even known jessica existed. he isn't chasing his wife's memory, he's trying to start fresh. maybe it's not enough... but what if it is? what if this is it for them and they squander it being retards? ]
What do you need from me? A Venn diagram? Because I'll draw one up right now. [ it's painfully earnest, as much as he is poking fun ever so subtly. ]
Shut up. [ Jess rolls her eyes behind closed lids and butts at his arm with her head. rather than rock back semi-upright again and risk another round of nothing vomit, she sags there with her temple tucked into his shoulder where a rifle butt ought to go. her insides are still searing from pumping her system empty and she's craving the ibuprofen she thinks she saw him put down but doesn't trust herself with water yet.
a sigh billows from her as she rests there insofar as he lets her. she breathes for several long seconds, treacherously close to imagining herself passing out like that with him, and strung aloft from sleep by the phrase "it's not you". Jess hates saying it and come morning, or whenever she next sees him, and if not then not long after, she'll sling it again despite its proven uselessness. and he won't reject her cowardice, either. confidence and recklessness are synonymous to her. she has just enough from his acceptance of her ugly admission to spit out the words straining the empty spaces in her most honest moments with him. ]
There was this guy. I had to be someone else for him, for a long time. [ there's no good way to slip brainwashing in there and she's already pushing her luck, so even though that's not all, she verbally shrugs, ] That's all.
[ he frowns even though he's happy -- to see her finally let go. he more than willingly lets her slump against him, his arm not being pinned by her body coming up to hold the back of her head where it is. frank closes his eyes for a moment, taking comfort in the blank darkness behind them. ] I don't want you to be someone else. I just want you to be here. [ with me. not just physically, but mentally present whatever that means. if either of them are even fully capable of that. ]
[ he's happy too to finally have a mention of the shitbag who hurt her in less abstract description. they both were dismantled by assholes, but that doesn't mean they have to be alone. maybe it means... they should come together, because no one else gets how fucked up it feels. ]
Can I put you to bed now? [ an incredibly gentle ask. before he can edit himself, his lips lunge forward to brush across her clammy forehead. ]
[ she won't let go of the belief that he will come to regret that. or maybe it's that she won't all at once. it's nice to question it that meagre amount, if nothing else.
her thoughts become strangely benign after that. mostly, she wonders what to do with her hands. she wants to touch him more than anything but doesn't know where or have the muscle memory to instigate a self-contained caress. christ knows she can't kiss him and he can probably smell her breath as they are presently (making it his call and taking something else off her shoulders). she just wants to stay there, imperfectly held and peripherally ill, where she barely has to fear her own contentedness, until the need for sleep gives up on her and she can be hungover in peace.
Frank's voice nudge her from her daydreaming while her body remains hunkered against him like a boulder. Jess shoots back the twofer: noncommittal and unintelligible ] Couch.
Shhh. [ he shushes her, because she's not sleeping on his couch in this state. or any other. it's a shitty couch and her hangover will be bad enough as it is. frank's hand moves down, tracing each one of her vertibrae and nuzzling his cheek against hers. his body language is more than clear: he'll stay right where he is until she's ready to move. hell, maybe they just sleep here. he doesn't care what happens next now that she's in his arms. ]
[ Jess utters a token grumble, persuaded to shhh by his hands, finally touching her like he's not afraid her skin is going to betray them. she's been starving for some sort of contact ever since he left her bed, to the point that she contemplated fuelling up to black out and getting it from someone else. seemed too cumbersome, in the end. self-sabotage overkill. plus it's always good to have an ace up her sleeve.
when she feels herself drift off, she pulls herself back by moving her hand to his thigh. he's warmer than a radiator and rough in denim, like her. if she falls asleep, she can't have this anymore, unless it's contorted by her memories. the past few nights (or days or units of sleep, whenever they swarmed her side of the battlefield) she hasn't seen him, only knows he's there, through the window and far away, with his eye planted on a scope. watching Kilgrave fuck her, watching her like it, just like he tells her she does, and somehow she knows Frank can hear them too, her name spat onto her again and again as he shoves himself into her. at least if it's a different dream, she may not remember it so well. with how things have worked out, the rationale that helped bring her hear is no longer holding up. her fingers move gently over the fibres of his jeans, her other hand limply grasping at the hem of his leg.
oh, he's stopped shushing her. waning, Jess tips her head toward him to be heard, unable to raise her voice. ] Four hours. Wake me up.
[ the second she fully yields to him, he's enveloping her with both arms, zero hesitation in his frame. he finds the best spot for himself, his back rigid against the bathtub, but he's slept much worse places with much worse people. pick any spiderhole with billy fucking russo for example. her fingers traveling up his leg has the barest shiver tracking through his middle, and he holds her. he holds her like she's precious because no matter what else has happened, she is to him. ]
Copy. [ a gravelly murmur as he recalls his own words to her. i set an alarm for four hours. he doesn't need his phone. he can keep track of the minutes in his head easily. his chin slots in against her forehead as she falls under the tide, gathering her even a little closer with one strong arm around her shoulders and the other still cupping her waist. frank drifts off after the first hour, dozing more than truly sleeping, though the effect is the same. everything but the hands tight around her slacken and he closes his eyes at long last, even unconscious loving the way their bodies fit.
he only shuts his eyes for maybe 45 minutes, though it's enough to leave him a bit disoriented and groggy. he shifts, almost accidentally waking her before he realizes his mistake. frank pushes stubborn, damp hair out of her eyes and watches her sleep. she doesn't look peaceful, but she doesn't look in distress either. she's just... being. complacent. which is something he's never really seen from her before.
around the 3 1/2 hour mark, he wakes her just to be safe. the sun coming up persistently through the trees and shining through the tiny bathroom window cluing him in that it's time. steeling himself, he shakes her shoulder, knowing it'll really hurt if she punches him for startling her. ] Jess? Jess, wake up.
Edited (i lied i wasnt done lma o) 2018-01-15 21:00 (UTC)
[ the military jargon elicits a soft snort, her last vestige of stubbornness as she lets go, less scared than she has any right to be despite his promise.
she lies there heavily for hours, coming out of it now and then to weakly adjust the angle of her legs. they've gone to pins and needles; it's her hip that aches from the angle at which she relented to his support. it's easier to ignore than to correct it, and then be coaxed back to rest, Frank's heart beating close to her ear. without his knowledge, she makes him promise again, wake me up. every time he doesn't, she falls under with relief, whether it means five more minutes of sleep or fifty. thank god she's too tired to talk because her blood alcohol level would encourage her to and it's so goddamn pleasant to fall asleep with someone without timing their breaths from the burrow at the back of her skull.
her time is up all of a sudden, as though she only just fell asleep, and Jess groans petulantly into his shoulder. she has to get up, she knows that, but christ, is the knowledge all that gets him to do it? because its argument to her is pretty paltry. her consciousness is already slipping back from her swollen eyelids to the wreck in her head, and her mouth tastes like shit. she sighs, refusing to lift her head or open her eyes, though she is crawling towards wakefulness. that ibuprofen can't have gone anywhere. sounds like breakfast. ]
You up? [ he asks, jolting her a little with his shoulder, more because it hurts than anything. don't get him wrong, this was 100% worth it on his end and then some, but he needs to move before he gets frozen this way for good. frank gently starts to sit up, taking her with him. ] We have to get some water in you, okay? Advil. I'll make more coffee. [ she needs food, but that always seems to be a touchy subject for some reason so he's leaving it off for now. ]
Yeah, fine. [ she murmurs sourly, pushing against him cursorily while leaning on him almost completely, both of her legs numb below the knees. the room is hardly bright but she can only take it in squinting. her head is starting to pound like the pressure in the room has changed. as surreptitiously as she can, she starts to flex her toes in her boots and get her blood circulating properly so that he doesn't have to carry her.
Jess raises her hand for the glass of water, stagnant by a few hours. the idea of it has stopped reigniting her nausea, so it might be okay, but she's still glad they didn't stray from the bathroom. ]
[ he wiggles his toes too, a fact he doesn't try to hide given that he's wearing no shoes. one hand still on her waist, he pitches forward and manages to get the water and hand it to her before repeating the process for the pills. ]
It's really coming down out there. [ he notes idly, wondering how much has already piled up outside. a fleeting but serious expression crosses his face, but he doesn't offer up his thoughts, still mostly focused on taking care of her. ]
[ Jess is too consumed by the nerves starting to buzz under her skin to notice anything about him except that he's still there, right there. if she didn't feel so shitty, she would think she's dreaming. hangovers are good for something, sometimes. Jess sips carefully at the water, pills stowed in her hand. the smallest amount is enough to smooth her throat for as long as it's going down. she pops the advil into her mouth and gulps down over half the cup, then takes a breather to ensure her stomach won't send it back up. ]
The snow? [ she croaks, glancing up and regretting it instantaneously. Jess ducks her head and that leaves her looking at her legs, which twitch imperceptibly when she tries to move them. ok back to toes ]
Yeah. [ he goes back to absently rubbing her back while she tries to get her legs to work again. he's purposefully keeping his own head empty as well, knowing whenever things filter in from past lives for either of them shit gets dicey. maybe they can actually enjoy a snowed in day together. would that be so bad? ] Do you like it? Snow.
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words claw up his throat that he knows she won't accept. i missed you at the forefront of the pack. she's all he thinks about most of the day anymore, and all of the night. what is he supposed to do when she just goes radio silent for ages like that? he thought they were over that stage in their relationship but apparently not. do they even have a relationship? he's starting to feel like the drunk one the more his thoughts wage war on him. he has to say something if only to silence the voices in his head. ]
Why did you come here, Jess? [ it's soft. a tone usually reserved for just her. he looks like he could fall asleep right here, but he's resisting with everything he has. ]
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Trish can't see me like this. [ she hears the words in her head and in the air the same time, yet she also feels the distinct pause in between thinking and speaking, and lurches forward anyway. it surpasses unfair to foist her alcoholic ass on a recovered addict, not to mention it's shitty and reductive of Jess to think of her that way, and neatly tying it together are the inescapable comparisons they may draw, however involuntarily, between Jess's before and after. with Frank there's a little less to avoid dealing with. ] I came to fuck with you instead.
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frank nods in dumb acceptance of her proposal, his head thumping against the wall audibly once. this is going to be an even longer night than it already had been, and yet he'd rather be here than anywhere else. ] Okay. Give it your best shot.
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Jess can tell immediately that she's made a mistake and scrambles to her feet, using the wall as support. she waves vaguely in Frank's direction to assuage his doubtless concern, hears her boot knock over the O'Harren's, keeps rushing until the bathroom door clatters closed behind her and she's retching into the toilet. mostly. into the toilet. ]
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his hand reaches out, lightning quick, to grab the bottle before it drains out. though he realizes he should have just let it. he grimaces at the sound of her throwing up, doubtlessly on an empty stomach. frank takes a long swig of the whiskey for himself before getting up to clean up the mess.
frank carts their mugs to the kitchen and then grabs his towel from the front of the oven to sop up the alcohol before it stains already hopelessly stained floors. he leaves the towel on the floor next to the bottle, only dregs left in but he's worried she'll need it so he saves it for her. and then he makes his way to the bathroom after her, because he can't listen to her this time. he can't let her push him away.
at least, he likes to think that, making his way across the scant space and kneeling down behind her. frank pushes her hair over the opposite shoulder so she'll hopefully miss most of it as she empties what little she has into the toilet. his other hand steadies on her lower back. ]
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Ugh, shit. [ her breath spills out hard from the exertion, her abdomen curled into such tense knots she isn't sure she won't vomit again and what would even come up if she did. Jess spits into the soiled water, blinking lightheadedly. she shuts her mouth as hard as if she could staple it, gluing her tongue to the bottom of her mouth and closing her eyes until the nausea finishes with her. ]
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when she's finally done, he gives one last rub though he's sure it's anything but reassuring. ] I'll be right back. [ he knows she can't go anywhere so he doesn't worry about that, filling up a glass from the tap and bringing it back to her. he gets ibuprofen out of the medicine cabinet and places both on the tile far enough away that she won't accidentally knock them over. he sits down this time with his back against the tub to watch over her, ignoring the vomit dripping over the side of the bowl onto his floor. ]
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she was unable to tell him "you don't have to do that" before he up and left but she thinks she has a handle on her gag reflex by the time he's sitting down. as long as she doesn't move any part of her body below her neck. that's feasible, right? ]
For the record- [ a twinge at the back of her throat halts her but proves to be a false alarm. she pushes through the rest of her sentence before taking a breath ] this is not my best shot.
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Uh-huh. Well, I'll give you a chance for Round 2 in the morning. How's that?
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[ morning, fuck. she's her worst in the morning. that means he'll probably fall in love with her or something. as soon as she wakes up, she has to get lost.
the most mindful she's ever been, Jess reaches for the glass of water and slides it along the tiles to be in front of her. looking at the gently swishing water, she wants to be sick again. Jess closes her eyes and breathes as evenly as she can, her head swaying regardless of her attempts to keep it still. cursing, she slides the glass away from her and scoots close to the toilet. that's enough for her stomach to revolt a last time, Jess heaving twice dryly before spitting up translucent vomit that leaves her throat and mouth burning. ]
Shit, fuck. [ Jess rasps and digs the heels of her palms into her eye sockets, exhaustion renewed because for a split second there, with the unabsorbed poison purged from her system, she legitimately felt better. like an idiot. instead of leaning on the toilet to stabilize herself, she props her elbows on her knees and keeps her head cradled by her brow until the small dark world behind her eyelids catches up to her in settling the fuck down. ]
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That about sums it up. [ he agrees, tipping his head. he knows he has to say it now, that he has to respond to her neverending attempts to push him away with more than just acquiescence. it isn't in his nature and he's sick of fighting what he wants. especially when he's almost certain now she wants it too. with that one phrase he's realized that she's been fighting herself more than she ever fought him. and it was only his own self-loathing that kept him from seeing the truth. ]
No. Nothing works on me. You know why? Because the moment I saw you, I knew... I knew that I was gonna be here, watching you throw up at five am. If you vanish on me again, I'm gonna come find you. Because I'm an annoying, stubborn bastard who doesn't care that you hate yourself. Join the goddamn club. If being around each other makes life even a fraction of a percent of fucking liveable, then what's the point in fighting it?
[ there that's it. he's done. he knows... that he might have to make good on his threat to follow her right now. that she's annoying and stubborn enough to go out into the blizzard shitfaced. but he'll do it. she's pushed him to this and he's grateful for it. ]
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she does hate herself, for letting him have that amount of influence not in how she reacts, but in how she feels. for spending over a week hacking that pain into manageable pieces and stowing them in the familiar hiding spots of her other issues. for opening her mouth as she's about to and ridding herself of the most rancid thing to root inside her ]
I'm never going to be like her. [ it's a stony mumble as she releases her head, arms dropping. in some ways, she already is, enough to lure him to her in the first place, to smack him with that serendipity moment in the coffee shop, but it will never enough to satisfy him and he may not be able to stop himself from wanting it. there's no one to blame for any of this and that's the hardest part to deal with. it makes sense to put it on herself when she consistently fails to find comfort in or even recall his reassurance that Jess is who he chooses when confronted with the memory of a woman capable of so much more than she is. ]
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most of all, he's just so grateful that she's still here. ] No, you're not. [ and if that's what he was looking for here he'd have blown his brains out already. but for as much as jess knows about him on paper, she doesn't know his heart and his head. not like maria did. and yet he'd said goodbye to her, willfully. before he'd ever even known jessica existed. he isn't chasing his wife's memory, he's trying to start fresh. maybe it's not enough... but what if it is? what if this is it for them and they squander it being retards? ]
What do you need from me? A Venn diagram? Because I'll draw one up right now. [ it's painfully earnest, as much as he is poking fun ever so subtly. ]
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a sigh billows from her as she rests there insofar as he lets her. she breathes for several long seconds, treacherously close to imagining herself passing out like that with him, and strung aloft from sleep by the phrase "it's not you". Jess hates saying it and come morning, or whenever she next sees him, and if not then not long after, she'll sling it again despite its proven uselessness. and he won't reject her cowardice, either. confidence and recklessness are synonymous to her. she has just enough from his acceptance of her ugly admission to spit out the words straining the empty spaces in her most honest moments with him. ]
There was this guy. I had to be someone else for him, for a long time. [ there's no good way to slip brainwashing in there and she's already pushing her luck, so even though that's not all, she verbally shrugs, ] That's all.
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[ he's happy too to finally have a mention of the shitbag who hurt her in less abstract description. they both were dismantled by assholes, but that doesn't mean they have to be alone. maybe it means... they should come together, because no one else gets how fucked up it feels. ]
Can I put you to bed now? [ an incredibly gentle ask. before he can edit himself, his lips lunge forward to brush across her clammy forehead. ]
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her thoughts become strangely benign after that. mostly, she wonders what to do with her hands. she wants to touch him more than anything but doesn't know where or have the muscle memory to instigate a self-contained caress. christ knows she can't kiss him and he can probably smell her breath as they are presently (making it his call and taking something else off her shoulders). she just wants to stay there, imperfectly held and peripherally ill, where she barely has to fear her own contentedness, until the need for sleep gives up on her and she can be hungover in peace.
Frank's voice nudge her from her daydreaming while her body remains hunkered against him like a boulder. Jess shoots back the twofer: noncommittal and unintelligible ] Couch.
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when she feels herself drift off, she pulls herself back by moving her hand to his thigh. he's warmer than a radiator and rough in denim, like her. if she falls asleep, she can't have this anymore, unless it's contorted by her memories. the past few nights (or days or units of sleep, whenever they swarmed her side of the battlefield) she hasn't seen him, only knows he's there, through the window and far away, with his eye planted on a scope. watching Kilgrave fuck her, watching her like it, just like he tells her she does, and somehow she knows Frank can hear them too, her name spat onto her again and again as he shoves himself into her. at least if it's a different dream, she may not remember it so well. with how things have worked out, the rationale that helped bring her hear is no longer holding up. her fingers move gently over the fibres of his jeans, her other hand limply grasping at the hem of his leg.
oh, he's stopped shushing her. waning, Jess tips her head toward him to be heard, unable to raise her voice. ] Four hours. Wake me up.
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Copy. [ a gravelly murmur as he recalls his own words to her. i set an alarm for four hours. he doesn't need his phone. he can keep track of the minutes in his head easily. his chin slots in against her forehead as she falls under the tide, gathering her even a little closer with one strong arm around her shoulders and the other still cupping her waist. frank drifts off after the first hour, dozing more than truly sleeping, though the effect is the same. everything but the hands tight around her slacken and he closes his eyes at long last, even unconscious loving the way their bodies fit.
he only shuts his eyes for maybe 45 minutes, though it's enough to leave him a bit disoriented and groggy. he shifts, almost accidentally waking her before he realizes his mistake. frank pushes stubborn, damp hair out of her eyes and watches her sleep. she doesn't look peaceful, but she doesn't look in distress either. she's just... being. complacent. which is something he's never really seen from her before.
around the 3 1/2 hour mark, he wakes her just to be safe. the sun coming up persistently through the trees and shining through the tiny bathroom window cluing him in that it's time. steeling himself, he shakes her shoulder, knowing it'll really hurt if she punches him for startling her. ] Jess? Jess, wake up.
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she lies there heavily for hours, coming out of it now and then to weakly adjust the angle of her legs. they've gone to pins and needles; it's her hip that aches from the angle at which she relented to his support. it's easier to ignore than to correct it, and then be coaxed back to rest, Frank's heart beating close to her ear. without his knowledge, she makes him promise again, wake me up. every time he doesn't, she falls under with relief, whether it means five more minutes of sleep or fifty. thank god she's too tired to talk because her blood alcohol level would encourage her to and it's so goddamn pleasant to fall asleep with someone without timing their breaths from the burrow at the back of her skull.
her time is up all of a sudden, as though she only just fell asleep, and Jess groans petulantly into his shoulder. she has to get up, she knows that, but christ, is the knowledge all that gets him to do it? because its argument to her is pretty paltry. her consciousness is already slipping back from her swollen eyelids to the wreck in her head, and her mouth tastes like shit. she sighs, refusing to lift her head or open her eyes, though she is crawling towards wakefulness. that ibuprofen can't have gone anywhere. sounds like breakfast. ]
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We can take another nap later.
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Jess raises her hand for the glass of water, stagnant by a few hours. the idea of it has stopped reigniting her nausea, so it might be okay, but she's still glad they didn't stray from the bathroom. ]
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It's really coming down out there. [ he notes idly, wondering how much has already piled up outside. a fleeting but serious expression crosses his face, but he doesn't offer up his thoughts, still mostly focused on taking care of her. ]
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The snow? [ she croaks, glancing up and regretting it instantaneously. Jess ducks her head and that leaves her looking at her legs, which twitch imperceptibly when she tries to move them. ok back to toes ]
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are you ready to take this to turbo cute because it's boyfriend shirt time
um HALE YEA who do you take me for huh
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