Tucking in an Angel
"Your friend is at my club. I took her keys but she won't accept a cab. Could you come get her? She keeps talking about wanting to fly from rooftop to rooftop or something weird like that."
Jessica stares dumbfounded at her phone after she got the details of the place and they hung up. "What the fuck?" she mutters to herself.
It's nearly 3AM and she had wanted to push the call away but instead accidentally pressed on 'accept' in her sleepy state. Who in their right mind calls in the middle of the night? She's not a machine that fixes everyone's problems 24/7. She needs her rest.
But this isn't just anyone so she pushes the sleep from her mind and puts on her jeans and leather jacket. Still slightly intoxicated, it takes her a minute to find her left boot before she remembers she threw it across her apartment in annoyance before going to bed. Annoyance to nothing in particular. Or well, everything actually - minus a thing or two. Or just one.
She can't find her keys anywhere. Not that it matters, since the window had been shattered and is lying in little pieces on the floor again. She sighs, grabs a bottle of scotch with just a few sips left, and closes her front door behind her. Because, well, that's one of the civil traits she still possesses.
Before she knows it, the bottle in her hand is empty. Just as she's about to throw it in a trashcan she spots, someone runs past her and swipes it from her hand. If it was full she would've run after him and threw it against his head or something. What an idiot. This time, it's definitely his loss. She briefly wonders how pathetic you must be to drink from someone you know nothing about. What if she had some kind of disease? What if it wasn't even scotch to begin with?
She shrugs and decides she doesn't give a flying fuck and resumes her walk to Indigo; some fancy bar annex club Jessica would never willingly set foot in. She prefers to be nameless and the lights to be as dim as possible. Somewhere where she can just be someone that wants a drink and take care of the problem herself when someone messes with her. She doesn't need a bouncer to take away her chance to get a free workout. Where would be the fun in that?
Well, this is going to suck. There's a freaking line to get into the place. She's not even dressed accordingly. Probably. She walks up to the bouncer and tries to get his attention. Some girl halfway the line yells something to Jessica. She pays her no mind. It isn't until half the line is screaming things like 'get in line, bitch' and even things like 'you don't have to wait if you come back to my place' followed by obnoxious hollering and whistling from various men that the bouncer looks up at her. She tells him that she's only here to pick someone up.
He grabs his walkie-talkie and she assumes he's asking one of the bartenders for confirmation. He has an earpiece in so she can't exactly hear the conversation and after what seems like a minute of silence worth other people in the line getting agitated by the holdup, he nods his head for her to go in.
It's even more terrible than she thought it would be. The dance floor is packed with people. They're not even dancing, really. They are shamelessly dry humping and groping one another. It's like one big orgy. She doesn't understand what the blonde is doing here in the first place. It doesn't really look like her scene, unless a date brought her here. She sighs at the realization and tries to worm her way through the crowd toward the opposite side of the building. There are hands all over her and she has to consciously remind herself that she is her to pick up her friend - her platonic friend and nothing more - and definitely not to cause trouble and get kicked out before even reaching her.
When a guy gropes her ass hard, she cannot contain herself. She doesn't even bother to turn around when she grabs the hand touching her. Her grip is around the place where the second knuckles are located. She smirks. This is just too easy. She cups the four fingers between her hand and squeezes hard for a second. Maybe two, just for good measure, lets go and resumes her walk. She hears someone yell out in pain but doesn't look back. Everyone is way too preoccupied to have seen that she effectively crushed four fingers off a stranger's hand. Hell, the guy probably didn't even see her face to begin with. All is well.
She knows she's close even before she spots the blonde. There's a guy sitting in the seat next to her. His whole body is angled toward her while hers is angled toward the bar. Her eyes are fixed on the empty glass before her. The guy signals for another round and the blonde takes it straight from the bartender. The guy shifts closer to her as he sips from his own drink. He puts his mouth next to her ear and says something that Jessica can't hear from the distance she still has to pass. These damn people keep blocking her way. She sees the guy put his hand on the blonde's thigh who nonchalantly shrugs it off, but he just puts it right back. The blonde looks straight at him now and says something Jessica also cannot hear. Jessica sees him frown for a few moments before smirking devilishly.
OK, this has to stop. Jessica is feeling all kinds of protective and defensive. It's clear that Trish isn't into the guy. He should just take a hint and leave. She lightly - or she thinks it is - shoves some people out of her way and finally reaches the bar. Just as she's about to get Trish' attention, the guy moves over and tries to kiss her. Trish shoves him, but he doesn't let up.
Jessica is seething. She grabs the guy by the collar and throws him into the ground at her feet. She deliberately doesn't throw him across the building but reduces the amount of people that could potentially see this. The last thing she needs is attention brought upon her and the last thing Trish needs is to be on the front page of some kind of tabloid.
The guy is grunting in pain. His nose landed on the horizontal bar of his own barstool his feet were placed on just a few moments ago - which was nice because she didn't really aim for that. Jessica ignores him and her eyes briefly land on Trish' before she demands the attention of the bartender. She signals at the blonde and he nods, giving her the keys. Jessica then points to the guy next to her feet who is bleeding all over the floor and shrugs at the bartender who in turn speaks into his walkie-talkie. She doesn't wait around to see what happens and merely grabs Trish' hand and ushers her out of the club.
The blonde stumbles along and Jessica has to stay close to make sure she doesn't fall. Eventually, she puts her arm around the blonde's waist. The proximity is killing her. She feels lightheaded and on fire from the touch and the way Trish is clinging to her.
Jessica knows she's fucked, but she pushes away her thoughts and feelings in favor of getting the blonde home safe and sound.
They are a block away from the club when Trish suddenly stops dead in her tracks, also halting Jessica in her stride.
"Jess?" Trish slurs with a completely serious look on her face.
The private eye rolls her eyes in annoyance. No, it's fucking Santa Clause.Jesus, would you have let just anyone take you home – or worse? Jessica knows the blonde wouldn't have. Probably. Trish turned down the guy and went with her instead. That must count for something; at least that's what she hopes. Jessica is frustrated. You really have to take better care of yourself and not go out and be so Goddamn reckless and stubborn and – ugh.
"Yes, it's me, Trish."
She isn't prepared for that smile which takes over all of Trish' face that swiftly disappears into her own shoulder. Trish is hugging her tightly and Jessica is completely dumbfounded. She has no idea what the fuck just happened. She knows Trish gets a bit handsy when drunk, but this is very sudden. Nevertheless, she can't ignore the surge of affection coursing through her body. It makes her feel all kinds of things; the most prominent one being extremely uncomfortable. She knows Trish just means it in a friendly way - just to express her appreciation and excitement or whatever, but Jessica always catches herself hoping it could be more. But not this time, nope. Without even a second of indulgence, she gently pushes Trish off of her, internally curses herself for doing so, and tells her she's going to take her home.
It doesn't look like the blonde can walk any further and Jessica really does not want to carry her right now. She is not sure how much self-restraint she can practice at this moment. Luckily, a cab stops next to them. Jessica gestures to Trish to get in but the blonde just giggles at her like a high school girl.
Jessica rolls her eyes, mutters something under her breath and pushes her hand into the small of Trish' back to urge her to move. Jessica makes sure that Trish slides in first and the blonde immediately scoots over to make room for Jessica. Before Jessica could get a word in, Trish already rattled off Jessica's address in a surprisingly calm and collected manner. The blonde gives the private eye a look that says not to fight her on this, so Jessica doesn't. She's already plotting scenarios that will never happen and her mind is already set on her taking the couch in the office and giving her bed to Trish. Jessica doesn't understand why the blonde doesn't want to go home. She knows, for a fact, that Trish' bed is infinitely more comfortable than hers.
The driver stops in front of her building and Jessica pays the guy with the money she was going to spend on more booze. She nudges Trish to get out of the car but the blonde is out like a light. When she doesn't wake up from Jessica's calls and nudges to her body, the driver gets impatient because they're wasting time in which he could pick up another fare. Jessica sighs heavily and picks up the blonde from the back seat. She rearranges her in her arms and carries her inside. Somehow, Trish manages to inadvertently nuzzle her head in between Jessica's boobs.
When she closes the front door behind her, the blonde stirs a bit in her sleep, nudging further into Jessica. The private eye grumbles to herself. She thinks about how this stupid sleeping woman in her arms is the most beautiful person she ever laid eyes on. Fuck, even back at the club in her drunken stupor, Trish was the most stunning one. The most intelligent one. The kindest one. Even in her arms, or maybe especially in her arms, Trish is positively angelic or something, Jessica thinks.
She carefully places the blonde in her bed. Although one part of her really doesn't want to and another part wants nothing but – just fuck, not like this – she starts to undress Trish. Jessica is glad that the blonde isn't wearing a dress. Taking a deep breath, Jessica takes off Trish' heels and goes for her shirt next. She needs to consciously remind herself to refrain from looking – but fuck. Did Trish really had to wear that illegally sexy bra? She catches herself staring and suddenly feels so hot that she has to take off her own jacket before... Before taking of Trish' pants.
She clears her throat, trying to assess the situation. She could leave Trish like this but who the hell sleeps in their denim pants? It can't be comfortable. Having a hangover is bad enough; Jessica figures that she cannot add a non-comfortable night's sleep to that. Right? It's what friends do. Friends make sure their friends are OK and as comfortable as possible. There's nothing weird about this. Right, OK. After she's done giving herself a mental pep talk, she unbuttons Trish' pants and slides it down her legs. OK, she didn't think this through. Her gaze inadvertently landed on Trish' fucking matching panties. Well, fuck. She's fucked. She isn't consciously aware when she whispers a 'fuck, you're beautiful' into the air around them as she's taken in the blonde from head to toe. Jessica quickly takes the pants off all the way and haphazardly tucks Trish in.
When she turns to leave the bedroom, Trish suddenly grabs her and slurs a "don't leave."
Jessica is stunned into an awkward statue for the second time this night. She hears her own heartbeat in her ears as she stares at Trish' hand that latched itself rather firmly on her arm.
How long has she been awake for? Was she conscious when I undressed her? What the fuck is going on?
Seriously, this whole evening has been weird for Jessica. She briefly thinks that maybe she's still asleep but no, her dreams are never like this.
Trish' hand abruptly yanks on Jessica's arm, emphasizing her words. Right. She almost forgot. She mutters an "OK" and lies on top of the covers. She kicks off her boots but doesn't dare to take off any of her own clothes. She doesn't want to give Trish the wrong idea when they wake up the next day. Somehow Trish' hand finds Jessica's arm again. Jessica's heart speeds up and the skin Trish is touching is on fire, and when Trish' hand moves down to take her hand in hers, she's sure her heart stops beating altogether.
Jessica doesn't know how or when but somehow she fell asleep. When she opens her eyes, the blonde is not lying next to her. So, it was a dream after all?
Nope. She hears rattling in her kitchen followed by a "damn it." She smiles to herself, having recognized the voice instantly. She gets off the bed only to realize that she was under the covers and wasn't wearing any pants. She's positively sure that she was on top of the duvet and was definitely wearing pants before she fell asleep. Well, at least that's what she thinks. She's giving herself a headache thinking about what kind of stupid decisions she made in her sleep.
She quickly slides into her pants but notices that her underwear has a wet patch. Oh, for fucks sake. Really? She hopes that Trish didn't see that. Ugh. She buttons her pants and joins the blonde in the kitchen.
Jessica lingers in the doorway, looking at the confused blonde. All her previous thoughts are long forgotten. She's clearly amused that Trish thinks that she has anything to eat in her house. The blonde mutters a "what the hell, Jess" to herself as she rummages through the un-stocked fridge. She sighs and turns around to see if her coffee cooled down enough to drink. At least Jessica had some of that.
Jessica zones out thinking about how it will be the cheapest, most disgusting instant coffee that Trish will ever taste if she does indeed decide to put her lips on that cup and allow her tongue to welcome the taste to excite her brain. OK, what the fuck Jones. That was creepy, even for you.
She shakes off her thoughts and clears her throat. Trish turns to her and smiles shyly. She nudges another cup toward Jessica before saying good morning.
Jessica smiles back. "Morning, Trish. How are you feeling?" She takes the cup in her hands and takes a very small sip just to occupy herself and to not stare at what Trish is wearing.
Trish chose to wear something Jessica was sure she left lying on the floor somewhere in her bedroom. It's just a shirt and her panties slightly show when she moves her arms.
Jessica's small sip turned into a big gulp and it isn't until she swallows that she realizes it's a bit too hot. Fortunately, she doesn't burn her tongue on it. That would be a waste if things decided to take a turn. A turn they won't take because Jessica would never, ever, indulge herself like that and jeopardize their relationship. Nope.
It isn't until her eyes meet Trish', that she realizes she zoned out again. She thanks God that she hadn't been staring instead. "Hmm, what?" Jessica asks.
Trish is clearly amused. "I said I was OK and asked how you were doing, before adding that I hope you don't mind that I took your pants off when you were squirming in it in the early morning."
Right. OK. Trish did it. Thank fuck. Wait. She isn't sure what to make of this. Was she wet before or after Trish took her pants off, and was it already light outside or too dark to see? Trish said early morning. Oh, fuck. I'm fucked. "Yeah, thanks." She bites her lip and immediately brings the cup to her mouth and drains it. She needs something stronger than this. And a lot of it.
Trish hums a song that Jessica doesn't recognize and disappears into Jessica's bedroom. When she emerges, the blonde is wearing the same clothes as yesterday again. "I'm going to get us some food. What do you want?" Trish asks nonchalantly.
Jessica feels all kinds of awkward and the blonde pretends everything is fine. Is everything fine? Is all of this normal? I don't even know what normal is. I should go with whatever Trish thinks is normal.
Trish throws a clean(ish) sock at the private eye's face who jolts out of her thoughts. "What? What? Hey! Why did you do that for?"
"Because I'm hungry and you're not answering," Trish says while raising an eyebrow.
Jessica is more than confused. "What was the question?"
Trish merely snorts at her before telling her that she'll be right back. She smirks at Jessica for good measure.
Jessica is left standing with a sock in her hand, absolutely and utterly confused at everything that happened since last night.