[ she was kidding, or maybe she wasn't. she ventures a glance at his window but can't suss shit from the deep grey of snow plummeting through smog. it's night, that's for sure, the same one as the last time she checked, and that's not nothing. ]
What time is it? [ Jess finds the handle of the mug and slips her fingers through, covering the top with her other hand so the steam beats against her palm. ]
[ he left his phone plugged in and he hadn't bothered to internalize the numbers on his ancient coffee maker so he hazards a guess. ] 400-ish. [ maybe 4:15, 4:30. something like that. he decides to just come out and ask: ] Is someone looking for you?
[ she cringes gently, not at the data but at his delivery of it. at least there wasn't an "oh" in front of it. ]
What? [ she heard and understood him perfectly. it's a stalling tactic to get her words in order, try and prevent them from skidding into each other ] No. Fighting with my sister.
[ who shouldn't be driving home in this weather anyway so now Jess is starting to hope she is there, as obnoxious and overbearing as it would be. ]
[ he knows she understood so he waits her out. he's learning about so many family connections lately!!! ] Didn't know you had a sister.
[ not like that matters right now, but he's just saying. there's an edge of tired bemusement to the words. frank has the same thought about the weather, honestly, but he's mostly just relieved it's not someone he should be worried about. ]
[ how did he not know that? what a shit P.I. he'd make. she can almost work up something like a smile over it. thankfully, he takes care of that with his next comment. he's right, jagoff. Trish is probably asleep but there's every chance she's not, considering the hell Jess had to put her through when she went missing. reluctantly, Jess digs around in her jacket until she hits upon the right pocket, then retrieves her phone and tosses it the short distance to him. ]
You do it. [ her head lolls his way. ] Don't say who it is. I don't need you two talking to each other.
[ every time he tried to make progress on getting to know her through the internet... like people apparently do these days, he'd shut himself down. it felt like prying, even if she was as near to a public figure as himself. it should be ironic, that stalking her isn't, but hey. whatever.
when she starts digging around for her phone, he puts his coffee cup down. he's glad he does when a second later it's being thrown at him. all the recent messages are from trish, and only then do the pieces fit. trish, on the radio. he had seen them together once, extremely briefly when he'd followed her those couple of weeks. frank opens up their text conversation and overrides his human instinct to snoop. he sends something suitably snarky but also hopefully reassuring so trish doesn't think anyone has commandeered her phone.
he sets it down between them on the floor and picks up his coffee to take his first sip. it tastes better than it ought to. ] There's food, if you want some.
[ Jess didn't intend it as a test when she saddled him with the task but of course he passed. she turns the phone towards her, gives up on reading the messages without adjusting the brightness (too much work) and turns it off with a simple button press, then leaves it on the floor. ]
You got real food? [ she won't trust anything to stay down, even this coffee, so she's not asking for herself. ]
[ that gets a smile. tiny, but genuine. he takes another sip before tipping his temple back against the wall, holding his apparently favored indiania hoosiers mug with a chip in the top with a vice grip. ]
I've been cooking. [ he likes cooking, which is part of why he'd deprived himself of it before. the other issue was never having someone to cook for, at least until he realized there was one person he could count on to show up at meal time. and he doesn't just mean elektra's dog.
he's figured out that she's too far gone to want anything, and he would never expect her to ask for it even if she did. so frank settles there for the moment, content to stay here indefinitely. ]
[ he could be doing it for himself but she suspects he's doing it for company too. no point in asking who; if she wanted to know, she could have found out by now. ]
What do you cook. [ usually, she would count survivalist crap like canned beans and just-add-water rations but now that she knows how terrible they can be, and that he'll eat them anyway, she's raised the standard a skosh. ]
Lots of things. What do you like to eat? [ he turns it on her just because, fixing that barely-there smile on her. but he's relenting soon enough if only because he always does. ] I made Kabuli palaw earlier, it's in the fridge.
[ she scoffs at his brag even though he backs it up with a dish she's never heard of. doesn't sound particularly fancy, either, but it's a serious leap from boiled chunks of pasta in an aluminum sleeve. fucking show-off. he can cook for her over her dead body. ]
God, screw you. [ she's inspired to elaborate but the coffee gives her something else to do with her mouth, blowing steam from it and venturing a sip ]
[ it's a trip to the grocery store or, god forbid, farmers market and she does most of her shopping at the corner store. and then there's cooking, who has time for that. Trish. Malcolm. and now him. it's like some kinda conspiracy.
Jess finally notices the space he left for her liquor when it takes a moment to reach her lips. she sets it back down without having any and reaches for her bottle ]
Maybe. [ he isn't and it's clear by his tone (and the lack of anything even vaguely booze shaped in this place. other than the stuff she brought.) hair of the dog seems like exactly what she needs right now so he says nothing when she utilizes his considerate gap for liquor. ] Less fun without you, though.
[ he's obviously not talking about getting wasted anymore, and it rings a little too true to be a dig. he really is such an asshole. ]
[ Jess's pouring isn't perfect but liquor only escapes the transfer in droplets and a line trickling down the side of her mug, which she swipes off with a finger and sucks clean. ]
Maybe. [ she echoes, then has a gulp of her poorly proportioned and thoroughly unmixed drink and puts the back of her hand to her mouth as she swallows. it will stay down. it has to. ]
[ 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. ]
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What time is it? [ Jess finds the handle of the mug and slips her fingers through, covering the top with her other hand so the steam beats against her palm. ]
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What? [ she heard and understood him perfectly. it's a stalling tactic to get her words in order, try and prevent them from skidding into each other ] No. Fighting with my sister.
[ who shouldn't be driving home in this weather anyway so now Jess is starting to hope she is there, as obnoxious and overbearing as it would be. ]
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[ not like that matters right now, but he's just saying. there's an edge of tired bemusement to the words. frank has the same thought about the weather, honestly, but he's mostly just relieved it's not someone he should be worried about. ]
You should tell her you're safe.
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You do it. [ her head lolls his way. ] Don't say who it is. I don't need you two talking to each other.
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when she starts digging around for her phone, he puts his coffee cup down. he's glad he does when a second later it's being thrown at him. all the recent messages are from trish, and only then do the pieces fit. trish, on the radio. he had seen them together once, extremely briefly when he'd followed her those couple of weeks. frank opens up their text conversation and overrides his human instinct to snoop. he sends something suitably snarky but also hopefully reassuring so trish doesn't think anyone has commandeered her phone.
he sets it down between them on the floor and picks up his coffee to take his first sip. it tastes better than it ought to. ] There's food, if you want some.
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You got real food? [ she won't trust anything to stay down, even this coffee, so she's not asking for herself. ]
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I've been cooking. [ he likes cooking, which is part of why he'd deprived himself of it before. the other issue was never having someone to cook for, at least until he realized there was one person he could count on to show up at meal time. and he doesn't just mean elektra's dog.
he's figured out that she's too far gone to want anything, and he would never expect her to ask for it even if she did. so frank settles there for the moment, content to stay here indefinitely. ]
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What do you cook. [ usually, she would count survivalist crap like canned beans and just-add-water rations but now that she knows how terrible they can be, and that he'll eat them anyway, she's raised the standard a skosh. ]
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God, screw you. [ she's inspired to elaborate but the coffee gives her something else to do with her mouth, blowing steam from it and venturing a sip ]
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It's rice and lamb with raisins and carrots. Good hangover food. [ technically it's already cooked so he didn't cook it for her!!!!! god. ]
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Jess finally notices the space he left for her liquor when it takes a moment to reach her lips. she sets it back down without having any and reaches for her bottle ]
Yeah? Been getting drunk without me?
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[ he's obviously not talking about getting wasted anymore, and it rings a little too true to be a dig. he really is such an asshole. ]
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Maybe. [ she echoes, then has a gulp of her poorly proportioned and thoroughly unmixed drink and puts the back of her hand to her mouth as she swallows. it will stay down. it has to. ]
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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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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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