She made a small noise of surprise when he dropped her, unceremoniously, onto the couch. She bounced once, falling onto her side and erupted into giggles. Her face pressed against the soft microfiber. He mumbled something that sounded like sorry, and firm hands on her shoulders lifted her back into a sitting position.
He said sorry again.
“Don’t worry, she’ll be fine.”
[spoiler]
Glassy green eyes switched from Sanders’ face to Aphrodite’s with visible effort. A very slow tracking of her gaze. Drusilla beamed at them, and giggled again. “Thanks, Captain,” Drusilla said, a bit of teasing in her voice. She shifted so she sat somewhat normally on the couch. Her hands smoothed over the soft fabric in a rhythm, as if it were the softest thing she’d ever had her hands on. But that wasn’t true. She’d had her hands in Sanders’ hair as he carried her up with stairs to their apartment over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. A very drunk sack of potatoes. The fluffy, blonde locks were admittedly very soft, but she still wouldn’t categorize them as the softest, but they beat the couch.
“Are you sure?” Sanders asked, warily. Aphrodite nodded her head. Drusilla’s friends towered over her, one looking much more concerned than the other. Drusilla waved her hand in a circle, or at least she attempted to. This was apparently meant to indicate that she was fine. Her head dropped to the back of the couch and she giggled again.
“I’m sure.”
They moved away from her and Drusilla lifted her head to watch them walk to the door. Ears swiveled in their direction, but she couldn’t hear what they were talking about. The pounding in her ears was much louder than the whispering voices they were using. She huffed to no one, and bent over slightly to try and grab her own foot. She audibly complained about the wave of nausea that hit her, causing her company to pause in the conversation to look over at her.
She just wanted to take her boots off.
Sanders’ and Aphrodite quickly finished whatever they’d been discussing. She kissed his cheek. He left, and she locked the door behind him.
“Drusilla?”
“I need help,” she replied, still bent at the waist and pressed against her own legs, somehow unable to find her own foot in her current state. Aphrodite sighed and moved around the coffee table to push Drusilla back into a sitting position. She sighed in relief as the desire to vomit passed and relaxed on the couch as Aphrodite started to pull off her boots.
“Did you have fun?” the blonde asked, pulling the zipper down and sliding the thigh-high leather off of Drusilla’s leg.
“Yes,” she replied, very matter-of-fact. Her leg fell limply to the floor when Dite released it and shifted to pick up the other. The same process of unzipping and pulling. “Why am I the only drunk one?” She tried to shrug out of her jacket as she talked, but the leather caught itself around her elbows and she was stuck again. She whined, and Dite immediately moved to her help her. She tossed the jacket over the back of the couch and found herself staring down at the scars on Drusilla’s back. Left exposed by the cut of her tank top. The sight of them always caught her off guard.
“Renton was very adamant that we should get you drunk.”
“What?” she asked, voice pitching. “Why?”
“He didn’t say.”
Drusilla hummed her disappointment and shifted her position to stretch out across the couch. Her tail flopped over her leg and tapped idly against her thigh. She hugged one of the couch pillows to her chest and watched as Dite moved across the room and into the kitchen. She went through the motions of making a pot of coffee.
“I wish Owen had been there,” Drusilla said, apropos to nothing, voice cutting through the silence that had fallen between them. She lifted her head to prop it up on her hand.
“What?” Dite’s sharp reply came from the kitchen as she filled a pitcher with water.
“Sorry. Lieutenant Colonel Hart.” As if Aphrodite’s shock had been scolding her informality.
“No. That’s not what I meant.” Drusilla heard the coffee maker beep and Aphrodite returned to the living room. “Why would you want him to come?”
Drusilla’s eyes narrowed as she looked up at her roommate. Despite her inebriated state she was sensing the judgement in her tone. Drusilla shrugged, rather than explaining herself.
“Drusilla,” Dite’s tone had turned scolding. Dru dropped her head from her hand and rolled onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. She didn’t reply.
“Julianna,” Aphrodite insisted, and she visibly cringed as the name met twitching ears.
“Yes, Maeve?” she shot back. Petty words from between clenched teeth.
“Are you in love with your boss?”
Drusilla was quiet for a long time. She laced her fingers over her stomach, tail twitching lazily where it had fallen over the couch.
“Define love…”
“Oh my god!”
“I don’t know! Okay?” She had a headache and her mouth felt like a desert. She chewed on her bottom lip. She didn’t want to have this conversation right now, didn’t trust herself not to say something revealing with the proper line of questioning.
Questions like, “what do you know?”
She faltered, sitting up and waving her hand as if it would help her grasp the right words. Her eyes squeeze closed and she pinched the bridge of her nose. Her ears fell flat to the crown of her head. “I know...that sometimes he seems sad, and I wish that he wasn’t. I want to smooth my hands across his shoulders and tell him to relax. Or run my fingers through her his hair, and ask him to tell me what’s wrong. I feel like he needs me.” Aphrodite didn’t say anything when she stopped talking. Drusilla pulled her knees towards her chest and leaned heavily on the arm of the couch.
“Sometimes he looks at me for a long time, like there’s something he wants to say, but won’t. When he touches me my heart stops, and when he’s on missions I feel like I can’t breathe.”
Drusilla looked over at Aphrodite. The blonde didn’t say anything, as she pushed herself from the plush armchair and disappeared back into the kitchen. Drusilla was unable to read her expression, but something about her friend’s silence hurt. She felt strangely exposed, like Dite had tricked her into admitting the way she felt and was judging her for it.
“Dite?” she called, craning her neck in the direction she’d gone off too. She could hear a cabinet opening and the clink of a much on the counter. The fridge opened and closed.
“You should go to bed.” Aphrodite’s clipped reply finally came from a distance. “Drink some water so you don’t feel like shit in the morning.”
Drusilla’s ears pinned towards the back of her head, but she stood anyway. Following Aphrodite’s instructions. She was sure she was going to feel like shit, regardless.[/spoiler]
He said sorry again.
“Don’t worry, she’ll be fine.”
[spoiler]
Glassy green eyes switched from Sanders’ face to Aphrodite’s with visible effort. A very slow tracking of her gaze. Drusilla beamed at them, and giggled again. “Thanks, Captain,” Drusilla said, a bit of teasing in her voice. She shifted so she sat somewhat normally on the couch. Her hands smoothed over the soft fabric in a rhythm, as if it were the softest thing she’d ever had her hands on. But that wasn’t true. She’d had her hands in Sanders’ hair as he carried her up with stairs to their apartment over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. A very drunk sack of potatoes. The fluffy, blonde locks were admittedly very soft, but she still wouldn’t categorize them as the softest, but they beat the couch.
“Are you sure?” Sanders asked, warily. Aphrodite nodded her head. Drusilla’s friends towered over her, one looking much more concerned than the other. Drusilla waved her hand in a circle, or at least she attempted to. This was apparently meant to indicate that she was fine. Her head dropped to the back of the couch and she giggled again.
“I’m sure.”
They moved away from her and Drusilla lifted her head to watch them walk to the door. Ears swiveled in their direction, but she couldn’t hear what they were talking about. The pounding in her ears was much louder than the whispering voices they were using. She huffed to no one, and bent over slightly to try and grab her own foot. She audibly complained about the wave of nausea that hit her, causing her company to pause in the conversation to look over at her.
She just wanted to take her boots off.
Sanders’ and Aphrodite quickly finished whatever they’d been discussing. She kissed his cheek. He left, and she locked the door behind him.
“Drusilla?”
“I need help,” she replied, still bent at the waist and pressed against her own legs, somehow unable to find her own foot in her current state. Aphrodite sighed and moved around the coffee table to push Drusilla back into a sitting position. She sighed in relief as the desire to vomit passed and relaxed on the couch as Aphrodite started to pull off her boots.
“Did you have fun?” the blonde asked, pulling the zipper down and sliding the thigh-high leather off of Drusilla’s leg.
“Yes,” she replied, very matter-of-fact. Her leg fell limply to the floor when Dite released it and shifted to pick up the other. The same process of unzipping and pulling. “Why am I the only drunk one?” She tried to shrug out of her jacket as she talked, but the leather caught itself around her elbows and she was stuck again. She whined, and Dite immediately moved to her help her. She tossed the jacket over the back of the couch and found herself staring down at the scars on Drusilla’s back. Left exposed by the cut of her tank top. The sight of them always caught her off guard.
“Renton was very adamant that we should get you drunk.”
“What?” she asked, voice pitching. “Why?”
“He didn’t say.”
Drusilla hummed her disappointment and shifted her position to stretch out across the couch. Her tail flopped over her leg and tapped idly against her thigh. She hugged one of the couch pillows to her chest and watched as Dite moved across the room and into the kitchen. She went through the motions of making a pot of coffee.
“I wish Owen had been there,” Drusilla said, apropos to nothing, voice cutting through the silence that had fallen between them. She lifted her head to prop it up on her hand.
“What?” Dite’s sharp reply came from the kitchen as she filled a pitcher with water.
“Sorry. Lieutenant Colonel Hart.” As if Aphrodite’s shock had been scolding her informality.
“No. That’s not what I meant.” Drusilla heard the coffee maker beep and Aphrodite returned to the living room. “Why would you want him to come?”
Drusilla’s eyes narrowed as she looked up at her roommate. Despite her inebriated state she was sensing the judgement in her tone. Drusilla shrugged, rather than explaining herself.
“Drusilla,” Dite’s tone had turned scolding. Dru dropped her head from her hand and rolled onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. She didn’t reply.
“Julianna,” Aphrodite insisted, and she visibly cringed as the name met twitching ears.
“Yes, Maeve?” she shot back. Petty words from between clenched teeth.
“Are you in love with your boss?”
Drusilla was quiet for a long time. She laced her fingers over her stomach, tail twitching lazily where it had fallen over the couch.
“Define love…”
“Oh my god!”
“I don’t know! Okay?” She had a headache and her mouth felt like a desert. She chewed on her bottom lip. She didn’t want to have this conversation right now, didn’t trust herself not to say something revealing with the proper line of questioning.
Questions like, “what do you know?”
She faltered, sitting up and waving her hand as if it would help her grasp the right words. Her eyes squeeze closed and she pinched the bridge of her nose. Her ears fell flat to the crown of her head. “I know...that sometimes he seems sad, and I wish that he wasn’t. I want to smooth my hands across his shoulders and tell him to relax. Or run my fingers through her his hair, and ask him to tell me what’s wrong. I feel like he needs me.” Aphrodite didn’t say anything when she stopped talking. Drusilla pulled her knees towards her chest and leaned heavily on the arm of the couch.
“Sometimes he looks at me for a long time, like there’s something he wants to say, but won’t. When he touches me my heart stops, and when he’s on missions I feel like I can’t breathe.”
Drusilla looked over at Aphrodite. The blonde didn’t say anything, as she pushed herself from the plush armchair and disappeared back into the kitchen. Drusilla was unable to read her expression, but something about her friend’s silence hurt. She felt strangely exposed, like Dite had tricked her into admitting the way she felt and was judging her for it.
“Dite?” she called, craning her neck in the direction she’d gone off too. She could hear a cabinet opening and the clink of a much on the counter. The fridge opened and closed.
“You should go to bed.” Aphrodite’s clipped reply finally came from a distance. “Drink some water so you don’t feel like shit in the morning.”
Drusilla’s ears pinned towards the back of her head, but she stood anyway. Following Aphrodite’s instructions. She was sure she was going to feel like shit, regardless.[/spoiler]