liability.

In truth, Andy fucking hated working at the diner. The money wasn’t great, his coworkers were fucking annoying, and he hated getting through the dinner rush. But his annoying PO wanted him doing something more “legit” than working at the club, and he enjoyed cooking, so he reluctantly handed in the application. The last few months had been fairly predictable, with most of the other kitchen staff and waitresses/waiters opting steer clear of him. He couldn’t necessarily blame them -- It’s not like he was making himself particularly approachable, nor did he have any intention to do so. At least, that had been the case until a certain blonde entered his field of vision. His crush on Rowan was embarrassing, something he kept to himself -- It felt like he was fifteen again, sucked in because of what? Her flashing him a smile and saying a few words to him? Seriously? The last time he’d been in a relationship or even went out with someone had been years ago -- And he’d rather forget anything that had to do with his ex, Bethany. He wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of hooking up after a few drinks with Rowan, but Andy had a feeling he’d find a way to fuck that up. Instead, he ignores his own feelings, opting to put his focus in making greasy burgers and fries, rather than the way his heart skipped a beat each time she came back to the kitchen with a new order. 

Once the dinner rush is over and he can finally breathe instead of barking kitchen orders, Andy sneaks out for a much needed smoke break. It was a nasty habit -- He could smoke a pack a day if it weren’t for his own better judgment. Instead, he sticks to his nightly ritual of two for his break, waiting until the dishwasher and his hostess girlfriend came back in so that he’d be left with peace and quiet. Letting the door slam behind him, Andy moves across the pavement and to the pitiful looking picnic table management left them for ‘the opportunity to get fresh air comfortably’. Wood creaks as he sits on top of the table, balancing his half empty pack of cigarettes on his knee as places one between his teeth. The first inhale he takes as it lights calms him significantly, washing away the frustrations from earlier in his shift. The sound of the backdoor can be heard slamming as he rolls his shoulders, just for them to tense up again. “Jeff, if you start bitchin’ at me about peeling potatoes again I’ll fuckin’ break your kn -- Oh.” 

He stops dead in his tracks, having expected the annoying prep cook, only to find Rowan in his place. There’s a half moment where he pauses, immediately regretting the outburst. Instead of a proper apology, Andy takes another drag of his cigarette to calm his once again frazzled nerves. Her presence was something he quietly welcomed -- Mostly shown by not immediately telling her to fuck off and find a different spot for a break --  but she made him nervous enough that he couldn’t come up with anything to say. At least the cigarette helped, buying him enough time to string together something coherent to say. “You wanna smoke?” Is the best he can come up with, holding up his pack of Marlboro’s. Thankfully the nightfall covers the heat climbing up his cheeks. 

Being surrounded by family still wasn’t something Quinn was used to. She hadn’t realized how much she missed the dysfunctional group until they were a daily part of her life again. For so long, it has just been her and her mother — The two of them against the world, with the occasional appearance from her father on a holiday. Thatcher’s side of the family was mostly kept up with via social media and text message, with an occasional in person visit every few years. And yet, it was somehow easier to create relationships with them than it was to find common ground with her father. She was trying (or at least, liked to say that she was trying), but couldn’t seem to see past the fog that is her resentment. 

Quinn was determined to figure this out, but her own emotions threatened to choke her during each awkward silence they shared. Feeling overwhelmed, she opted for a smoke break — It was a nasty habit, once she picked up from her years working in restaurants. After having to bite her tongue more than once, Quinn abruptly declared she’d be back in a minute. Not leaving any room for her father to question her, she made a beeline for the back door. The cool night air makes it easier to clear her head, though the small sparks of her dying lighter make the feeling short lived. She curses through muffle of the cigarette between her teeth, eyes rolling as she cups her free hand around the lighter, stubbornly attempting to ignite it.

She’d barely noticed Thatcher seemingly materializing beside her, the intrusion only pulling more frustration from her. What she’d hoped could be a moment to clear her head has proved to be the opposite. Finally giving up with a groan, she glances at him. Pulling the cigarette from her lips, she speaks. “I need a lighter.” The look on her face makes it clear she’s annoyed to even ask, leaving her wishing she’d said a goodbye and left rather than a smoke break. The voice in the back of her head -- The one that sounds a hell of a lot like her mother’s -- reminds her why she’s even here in the first place. “Can I borrow one?” She asks with an arched brow, it’s a simple question but it feels like a strange version of an olive branch. Tossing her dead lighter on the patio table, she huffs. “This piece of shit lasted all of two days.” Quinn’s not sure why she keeps talking, but somehow she can’t stop herself. “You should’ve warned me about the shit they sell at the gas stations here.” 

Rowan chalks the obvious shock on Andy’s face up to the fact that he must be shocked that she knows about his extra curricular activities. She leans back in her kitchen chair and lets him process what she had said, her heart pounding so loudly she can hardly hear herself think and so quickly she feels like she might pass out. In all honesty, she hadn’t known how this conversation was going to play out — this just isn’t something that Rowan ever thought they would have to talk about. She’d thought that they were it for each other, even in their worst moments — and this certainly had been one of their worst. Maybe it had been naive of her to assume that Andy’s heart was the same as hers; that no matter what life threw at them he was always going to have eyes for only her. Or maybe she had just been stupid to think that she could spend all this time building walls around herself, refusing to let him in because she doesn’t know how to rely on him anymore and he wouldn’t go seeking that warmth she used to offer somewhere else. 

In the few seconds that Andy takes to gather his thoughts, Rowan feels like she sees their entire relationship play out in front of her. From the moment they’d met back in her freshman year, to finding out they were expecting Ryder when they were far too young for him. All of the Christmases and birthday parties, the late nights that they spent curled up on the secondhand couch they somehow fit into their little apartment, how excited they had been to tell Ryder he was going to be a big brother. The first time Andy had told her that he loved her. Of course, she doesn’t look at it with rose coloured glasses — she sees the hard times just as clearly as the good ones. Sleepless nights while she tried to study and Andy tried to work extra jobs with the club while Ryder screamed bloody murder because his teeth were coming in, having to stitch up slashes and bullet grazes while Andy sat on the ledge of the bathtub, the way they had practically crumbled into each other when Maddie’s sickness had been diagnosed. The last time that Andy told her he loved her. And now she can’t help but wonder if this is what it all comes down to — if this is where all of that finally comes to a heartbreaking end. 

She waits, trying to figure out if he is searching for a lie to get himself out of the situation or if he’s going to have the decency to be honest with her — but then he just looks sad. Andy practically deflates in front of her, a deeply hurt expression crossing his features and for a moment Rowan hates herself for being the one to put it there. But she feels it too. Rowan thought that she would go into this all fired up, guns blazing and looking to pick a fight and maybe that will come later on — but right now she’s just sad. She’s tired and she’s sad and she longs for the days that she could look at Andy from across the room and know exactly what he was thinking. The days when she could reach out for him without wondering if she was initiating something he didn’t want. The days where she felt like they were in all of this together, working as a team rather than just two people who are stuck together because they have children together. 

His question makes her eyes fall closed. Years ago she would have laughed in someone’s face if they told her Andy was cheating on her — months ago, even. But now…. Well now it doesn’t feel so impossible. “I don’t know,” she admits, her voice thick as she opens her eyes again, looking up at him with a vulnerability that makes her skin feel too tight. “Maybe — yes.” The word comes out like shards of glass but it is the truth. At this point Rowan doesn’t know what else to think. “You’re gone all the time, Andy. We barely see each other and when we do all we talk about is the kids. You don’t come home anymore — you don’t touch me.” Which is maybe one of the weirdest parts of all of this. It used to feel like they were always reaching out for each other, his hand on the small of her back or hers resting against his thigh — Rhea used to tease them for it, asking them if they were glued to each other. Now it feels like the idea of even getting close to her repulses him. “And Tyson saw you — he saw you with some girl and he told me and I’ve been going crazy ever since.” 

Rowan knows she’s all over the place right now. She feels like her head is spinning, everything slipping out of her control and she has so much that she wants to say that she may never get a chance to say again that she barely knows where to start. “I’m not saying I’m innocent in this because I know —” she cuts off for a moment, taking a breath to try and keep herself composed. “I haven’t been fair to you.” It’s about as far into it as she can go right now, the idea of delving into how afraid she is of losing him again feels humiliating considering she’s literally in the middle of losing him. “But I’ve never…” The idea of being with anyone other than Andy has never even so much as crossed her mind. “If there’s someone else I deserve to know the truth.” Her gaze drops for a moment, jaw clenching painfully tight before she looks up at him again. “So tell me the truth — are you sleeping with someone else? Or are you… is it more than that?” God, the idea of Andy sleeping with someone else is bad enough, but the idea that he might have something more than that? That there is some other woman out there who gets the sleepy smiles that she used to get, that gets the just because flowers and the phone calls in the middle of the day just because he wanted to hear about her day, that gets to be the safe place for him in all of the chaos around them. That is enough to damn near kill her. 

.

Andy is certain this is the closest he’s had to an out of body experience — He's dumbstruck for a moment, his brain needs a moment to catch up to what’s happening in front of him. There was no question that they are struggling. He’d spent years hearing horror stories about the ways couples changed and fell apart after one of them got out of prison. Hell, he’d seen it first hand with plenty of club members — The distance, the disconnect, the comfort found in the arms of someone else. Andy had spent so much time in prison preaching about how he and Rowan were different, that they could get through anything, just for them to begin to unravel at the seams. (He still believes that can make it past any hardship — He’s just stuck trying to get from A to B.) But as this scene unfolds before him, it's surreal. Reaching a boiling point was a long time coming, but her accusation feels like a knife to the chest. He’s certain the look in Rowan’s eye is going to haunt him. 

It’s jarring to be so out of sync. A majority of his life has been spent with Rowan by his side, her hand in his — No matter how many fights and low points they have, she’s still the only person he wants to come home to. It’s been that way since he was a teenager, and it’ll be that way until the day he dies. There life together has been far from simple, but there’s no one he’d rather live it with. They’ve always balanced each other well, knew one another like the back of their hand— Andy wants nothing more than to find that again, to relearn one another and keep moving forward. He always believed they had some grand secret figured out, all boiling down to one thing: They never gave up on each other. They were in this together, determined to help keep the other from drowning. 

There’s an inexplicable pain in his chest at the realization that she may be giving up on him now. 

It’s not like he hasn’t given her plenty of reasons to feel this way — He’s been distant, even if it was in the name of trying to give her space. The club was a perfect reason and excuse to do so. With Jason gone, Andy had moved up in the ranks and taken on a larger role within the club — He was proud of it, but it came with a new level of pressure from his father, which only made his situation even worse. Each late night spent in the clubhouse was followed by the thinly veiled excuse that he was working on ‘club business’, though that was only the case about half the time. Andy never took up any offers from Sirens, despite their offers to help him relax. Instead, his nights were spent alone or dreading going home -- Leaving himself wondering if Rowan was truly better off without him. Maybe the voice in the back of his head was always right. 

His eyes never leave her, the weight against his chest making it hard to breathe. She’s burned out, he can spot it from a mile away. It kills him to see her like this, but it’s made worse by the fact that she won’t let him in. Rowan has had to spend years keeping herself afloat, with him sitting on the other side of the glass wishing he could do more. To say he’s proud of her is an understatement — He’s seen many people in her position cave in on themselves and abandon their kids. She was given an impossible task, and never faltered. Rowan continues to prove each day that she’s the strongest person he knows. Andy just wishes she’d let him shoulder her burden so she can rest, that Rowan doesn’t have to keep every plate spinning on her own. He knows it’s something they’ll have to work on for a lot longer than they’d like (she is also the most stubborn person he’s ever met, too), but even in the time he’s been home, barely anything has changed for the better. He’s still a stranger in his own home, consistently making missteps on what should be a simple thing. 

I don’t know. He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until she speaks, but her answer doesn’t make it any better. Maybe. Yes. They’ve had their fair share of fights -- While he and Rowan were always in it for the long haul, it didn’t mean they never disagreed or had trouble finding common ground. The biggest difference between now and then was that any spat they found themselves in was squashed just as quickly. They talked things out, got to the root of the problem. Typically it came back to the club or his father -- Never a question of the other’s commitment. Until now, at least. It reminds him of a memory, one that feels like a lifetime ago -- Of being nearly 30 and on a run, spending his night at a bar while a few other club members tease him for being too ‘whipped’ to make a move on the girl across the bar. Doesn’t count when you’re on a run, they told him. The notion made him laugh, then -- The idea of being with anyone who wasn’t Rowan just didn’t make sense to him. Now, nearly a decade later, she’s genuinely accusing him of cheating. 

Andy’s never done well with talking about his feelings, but this is a new beast entirely. There’s a short list of people he allows himself to be truly vulnerable with, and honestly? It starts and ends with his wife. Her words hang in the air for a moment, before he responds. "You can’t seem to stand to be around me,” he states plainly, not trying to accuse her of anything but explain where his mind is at. “I’ve been tryin’ to give you some space, ‘cause whenever I try to step in or help it only makes things worse.” The hurt in his tone is evident, mirroring the same look of exhaustion she has. “I --” He hesitates for a half second, knowing exactly what she means. It’s not  necessarily about sex -- Though their sex life isn’t exactly going well either -- but the way he always kept an arm around her waist, or his hand in hers. One of their love languages has always been physical touch; For him, reaching out to her left him feeling grounded and secure --Now he’s terrified if he tries to hold her close, she’ll recoil. “I didn’t think you wanted me to.” His voice is uncharacteristically quiet, having never actually admitted those words out loud before. 

The mention of Tyson makes his jaw clench. God, fuck that guy. He’d been a conniving little son of a bitch from the moment Andy met him, and clearly -- The other man was still happy to try and cause a rift between him and Rowan. This was the first time Tyson had been successful, and it left Andy wanting to wring the mans neck. His hatred of the man passes as quickly as it arrived, replaced by confusion -- “What?” He answers, genuinely unsure of what instance her coworker had been referring to, though he knows any and every time a woman’s tried to make a move -- He’s shot them down. The obvious is at the tip of his tongue -- Why didn’t you just ask me? But he knows why. It’s the entire reason they’re having this conversation. “I don’t even know what he’s talkin’ about.”  He doesn’t push the topic further, just listening as she continues on and he tries to catch his breath.

If there’s someone else I deserve to know the truth. It feels like his nerves are on fire, the tightness in his chest accompanied by knots in his stomach. “Rowan --” He starts, stopping himself as she questions him further. He blinks, hoping it’ll keep the emotion threatening to spill over at bay. Now isn’t the time to fall apart, even though his marriage clearly is. Andy couldn’t name what comes over him in that moment, but he takes a risk and moves closer to her. Fuck it. She might slap him and push him away, but the least he can do is try. It’s a risk he’s willing to take. He finds himself squatting in front of her, so that he’s at eye level with her. “No,” he answers with a shake of his head, before repeating himself. “No, I’m not sleepin’ with someone else.” A beat passes as he looks at her, eyes scanning her features as he tries to figure out what she’s thinking. Pushing things further (and silently praying it doesn’t backfire on him), his hands reach out to cup her cheeks, so that she’s looking at him. “Hey --” It feels strange to think that something like this could ever feel like testing a boundary -- It had been one of his go-to moves prior to all of this, always happy to tilt her head up and meet her half way in a kiss each time. He doesn’t lean in further, but speaks softly. “I love you, baby.” His voice is steady, despite how shaky he feels. “I know I haven’t said it a lot lately n’ I know sayin’ that doesn’t fix everything, but I wanna make sure you know.” 

ANDY THANE DISCOGRAPHY: saint: the b sides. 

the b sides is a surprise addition, released along side Andy Thane’s latest album saint, serving as what he describes as “the other side of the same coin”. Where it’s predecessor sports Thane’s typical guitar heavy and fast pace music, the b sides shows a different side of the rocker -- Slowed down and heart felt, giving a personal and intimate look into his thoughts and desires. While Thane hasn’t confirmed who each song refers to, all signs point to on and off again girlfriend, Rowan Fisher. The album is made up of seven songs and no singles, though includes an acoustic version of Thane’s first hit single, Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked.

T R A C K L I S T

         1. CHERRY don't you call him what you used to call me, don't you call him baby

        2. FIRELIGHT tell my friends i’m gone, it's true i've past on now to the eyes of a dark, lost blue

        3. RIGHT BEFORE MY EYES everything i thought i knew fell to the side time went on & on i couldn't see past my own eyes

        4. SWEET CREATURE sweet creature, sweet creature, wherever i go, you bring me home sweet creature, sweet creature, when i run out of road, you bring me home

        5. FALLING what am i now? what am i now? what if i’m someone i don't want around?

        6. APARTMENT i feel this cold inside me, it howls away all through the market it calls your name

Rowan has never been good at taking things slowly — ever, with anyone. From the moment she was old enough to start being romantically interested in people she felt like she’d been jumping from one relationship to another, always falling fast and hard only to end up shattered on the ground more often than not, having to put her own heart back together again. She’ll swear off of dating for a while, pour her heart into a couple new songs and then before she knows it someone is smiling at her and looking at her like they might want a future and she starts the cycle all over again. Of course, Andy hadn’t been any different despite the circumstances in which they had met. It had all been a formal agreement in the beginning, but it had only taken a few months for them to become friends and as soon as they were friends — well, she had wanted more. She always wants more, doesn’t she? Even after he had made it clear time and time again that he couldn’t give it to her, she had still picked up every time he called, all too hopeful that if she loved him hard enough one day he might be able to love her back just the same. Of course, that wasn’t what had happened. Instead of ending with the big white wedding and two point five kids she had been secretly hoping for, she’d ended up in France, crying so hard she couldn’t breathe and impulsively chopping her hair off to try and feel in control of literally any aspect of herself.

Looking back, it’s crazy how much things can change in less than a year. If she thinks about it too much it makes her anxious. Secretly a part of her had always hoped that she and Andy might eventually find their way back to one another but she hadn’t in a million years thought it would be this soon. She can vividly remember having a dream back in the spring where they were both older and more mature, she’d probably been on her second divorce considering her horrible luck, they’d met up again at some industry event and finally gotten it right. Part of her had hoped it had been a sign of what was to come (though another part of her, the bigger part, had been furious with her subconscious for having the audacity to put those thoughts into her head so clearly and even more furious at Andy for still having such a hold on her) but she hadn’t ever expected them to be here this soon. Part of her wonders if it’s too soon. Are they ready to really do this right for once? Or is she just setting herself up for another heartbreak? It keeps her up at night sometimes and so for the first time ever, she’s been forcing herself to take things slowly  — or as slowly as she possibly can. And as hard as that is, it’s been for the best. The last few months their relationship has felt more secure than it ever has, even if they’re keeping it to themselves for now. 

The dinner Andy made had been great, as it always is, and Rowan can’t help but be a little jealous. Her own skills in the kitchen are strictly limited to moving something from a take out container to a plate, the few times she tried to venture into actually cooking having ended in a kitchen full of smoke and ordering pizza. Andy seemed to have taken to it immediately though, like he seems to do with everything, and she wonders if he realizes how talented he is even outside of a music studio. They’d washed the dishes together afterwards before eventually finding themselves on the couch and halfway through the second movie they’d put on — though she couldn’t tell you what the first one had been about, they’d spent most of it talking — Rowan finds herself dozing off on his shoulder every few moments before jumping awake, blinking hard in an effort to come off the edge of sleep because she isn’t quite ready for this night to end just yet. After dozing off for the third time, she’d sat up rather than practically laying on him, rubbing her eyes and yawning embarrassingly loud before spouting off into some rambling story about her band lead from her previous tour to keep her mind occupied. 

Her mouth shuts abruptly at Andy’s words though, mind seemingly going blank at the thought of staying at Andy’s apartment tonight. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d fallen asleep together and while their relationship is more solid than it has ever been, Rowan can’t help but be met with a montage of memories behind her eyes all of them ending with her waking up alone. Her chest clenches painfully at it, though the feeling of Andy’s thumb stroking against her cheek brings her back to the present, to what’s actually happening in front of her and a feeling of guilt comes with it. They’re supposed to be moving forward, right? She’s not supposed to be holding any of that against him? “Are you sure?” Her head tilts, leaning into the hand on her cheek instinctively. Her own hands are in her lap, fingers anxious twisting and untwisting as she searches his eyes for any sign of regretting what he had blurted out. “You can take it back if you want, I won’t hold it against you, promise.” She laughs like it’s a joke but she does mean it, if he’d said it in the heat of the moment and regretted it that would be okay. She’d rather he be honest about it than have them move into the next step of their relationship too quickly and undo all of the progress they’ve made. “I didn’t bring any of my things,” she says quietly, “But um… Yeah. If you want me to, I’ll stay. I want to.” 

--

It’s difficult not to over think every single thing he does when it comes to Rowan. This is their chance to get things right, and if anyone is going to fuck things up — They both know it’ll be him. It leaves him feeling like he’s holding his breath, becoming hyper aware of everything he does before overthinking it. Thankfully, his words don’t have her leaping off the couch and running for the door — But Andy still holds his breath, unsure of what will happen next. The three words have clearly woken her out of her half awake state, with Andy fighting the urge to keep rambling about how he's sorry and there’s no pressure. It’s not like they’ve never shared a bed or stayed the night with one another (though he always ran before sunrise), but everything feels so new and the same all at once, and he wants to do this on Rowan’s terms. 

A brow arches as Rowan speaks, though he remains exactly where he is, his thumb brushing against her skin. “I — I’m sure. I don’t want to take it back.” His words are soft, forcing himself to not retreat because of his own discomforts — He wants her here, wants to wake up next to her tomorrow and every tomorrow after that. He can’t help the smile that comes with the mention of how she doesn’t have any of her things, but she wants to stay. “I want you to, Ro. I really want you to.” He admits to her, his hand moving from her cheek and to push through her hair. A lopsided grin forms as he lets go of her but moves to take her hand as he stands. “I have something to show you.” His clear excitement doesn’t have him waiting for her response before he’s guiding her up the stairs and to his room. She wants to be there with him — That’s enough to pull him out of the anxieties he was close to drowning in minutes before.“I uh —“ Now that he’s actually about to show her the way he’d set up for her to stay, heat crawls up his cheeks, his free hand pushing his hair out of his face. 

Once they’re in his room, he reluctantly lets go of her hand to cross the room to his dresser. “I cleared this out for you,” he pulls an empty drawer out, before his hand dips in and pulls a pair of sleep shorts and one of his old shirts with it. “And I grabbed you something to sleep in, and uh — There’s a sweatshirt, but I put a couple’a my old shirts in there too, in case you uh — You know, wanted to sleep in one of those.” Since when does he get nervous about this kind of stuff? He knows the answer — It’s never mattered like this before. “I got you a toothbrush and your own toothpaste, in the bathroom.” He nods to the cracked open bathroom door, his smile still present. “I got some body wash n’ shampoo from that brand you were tellin’ me about a couple weeks ago, too.” He finishes, his old tour shirt still in his hands. “I’m not uh — Really good with the whole, you know, talkin’ thing, but I just — I wanted to make sure you knew you have a place here. You always do. I want you here.” 

ANDY THANE DISCOGRAPHY: saint.

A mere three months after a 90 day stint in rehab, Andy Thane makes his return to the public eye in the form of the highly anticipated saint. Thane’s third album is nothing short of an old fashioned comeback -- Written entirely while in rehab, and recorded and produced right after he left. saint. is an unflinching look at the downfalls of the last five years, showcasing an unseen vulnerability in regard to both addiction and losing the love of his life. There’s no direct confirmation that many of the songs on the album are about Rowan Fisher, but the song that closes the album, Rowan Tree (Goodbye), makes the subject clear. The surprise release of the song Social Cues after months of social media radio silence marks the lead single of the album, followed closely by Cough Syrup, Only Angel, and Trouble. saint. is met with high regard, debuting at number one, going triple-platinum in the year since it’s release. The album earns Thane Artist of the Year at the 2020 Grammys, along with countless other awards at the VMAs, AMAs, and Billboard Music Awards that year. 

T R A C K L I S T

          1. SHINE A LITTLE LIGHT  go to places that you used to go, but they don't feel the same see the faces that you used to know, but they forget your name

          2. TOKYO SMOKE i played the fool 'til I started to choke

          3. UNDER THE GUN leaving now, all i have is all i own i'm hoping it's all i need

          4. SOCIAL CUES hide me in the back room, tell me when it's over don't know if i can play this bar much longer

          5. ONLY ANGEL i’m just happy getting you stuck in between my teeth and there's nothing i can do about it

          6. SKIN & BONE i don't wanna be there when it all goes down but if i gotta be there don't let me hit the ground

          7. SHAKE ME DOWN  even on a cloudy day, i'll keep my eyes fixed on the sun

          8. SIT AROUND & MISS YOU i walk outside, i ghost out in the park always sure we'd leave our mark

          9. TROUBLE got so much to lose, got so much to prove god, don't let me lose my mind

          10. CIGARETTE DAYDREAMS soft speak with a mean streak, nearly brought me to my knees

          11. COUGH SYRUP if i could find a way to see this straight i'd run away to some fortune that i should have found by now

          12. LITTLE BLACK SUBMARINES (ft. chris mcdonald)  i should've seen it glow, but everybody knows that a broken heart is blind

when + where andy’s home, late september 2020

Andy’s spent the last three days agonizing over this dinner. He’d blurted out that he wanted to cook for her during a conversation about food they loved as kids, and it seemed to snow ball from there -- Now he was going to cook her home made Jambalaya, using the same recipe his Ma did when he was a kid. Since his father’s death, he’d been able to reconnect with Rhea, which had lead to her teaching him a few cooking tricks, along with her passing along a few of her favorite recipes. Andy had always been pretty good in the kitchen -- The cooks at the old diner he worked at with Sid would teach him a few tricks, and Chris was the type who preferred a home cooked meal to greasy take out. Now that he was sober and no longer spent his time wasted and wandering through his days, Andy had invested far more time into the Food Network than he realized, often spending his time trying to recreate different dishes from different shows. It had become cathartic for him, and now that he and Rowan were figuring things out -- Cooking for her was something was something that turned him into a mixture of nerves and excitement. 

They’d been back together for a while now, though they were taking it slow -- The way they should have before, if their lives weren’t made up of recording studios, contracts, and shooing away the paparazzi. He hadn’t done much dating in his lifetime, really. Thinking back on it, he can count on his hand the times he’d actually dated a girl before getting into a relationship. It was mostly casually hook ups and late night texts, then Bethany and every sour note she hit -- Then Rowan, who began with a written contract and was spent with years of him getting in his own way. It’s exciting, the rush of something new yet familiar, relearning one another in such a different way -- They kept things under wraps, the only person outside of him and Rowan that knew about their relationship was his therapist, who had signed enough NDAs that their secret was safe. With the secrecy of their relationship, they were odd free to do what they wanted -- There was no watchful eye of agents and managers, no paparazzi to navigate or pressure to be on the cover of some tabloid or dodge a headline entirely. All that was left was Andy and Rowan, and a fresh start he never thought he’d get. 

Andy had gone over the plan for the evening several times, even talked it through with said therapist as well. It was far too easy to get lost in his own thoughts, drown in doubts and second guesses -- His relationship with Rowan had never been better, but it was still something that felt new and fragile, and history shows he hadn’t been the most gentle. This was his second act, the chance to finally be with the person he loves and do things right -- Rather than fuck it up at every turn, like he’d done before. Even if it feels like a simple thing -- Dinner at his place, maybe a movie after or the two just spending the evening talking (the latter was something he found he loved more than anything, getting the chance to hear every and any thought or opinion that came to Rowan’s mind), and hopefully, it would end in her staying the night. It wasn’t some ploy to get her to sleep with him, but a show of how serious he was about them -- Andy had cleared a draw in his dresser, gotten her her own toothbrush (yellow, of course), picked up the body was he knew she liked. He wanted her to feel at home, to know that she had a space with him here, that he is all in. He loves her and wants her to be imbedded in every piece of his life.

The night had gone smoothly enough, the two spending their time laughing and eating, his nerves forgotten momentarily as they settled back into the new routine they began not too long ago. She helped him cook and he told her about how his Ma would make Jambalaya for Sunday dinner, they laughed and joked and talked until their plates were clean and it became obvious that they were looking for reasons to linger. They hadn’t spoken much about staying at one another’s places, other than casual comments in passing -- He didn’t want to pressure her into anything, to take their relationship at a pace she wanted. Andy was more than happy to take his time, for them to really find their footing in it all before taking more steps. It’s when it becomes obvious that they have to say something when they’ve cleaned up dinner and devoured the cake he’d gotten for dessert -- When they’ve retreated to his couch together, chatting away until they can’t fight yawning between sentences anymore. The idea of keeping this going, of pillow talk while curled up together in his bed is something that has chest tightening. It’s a night and day difference from who he used to be -- When they’d meet up in hotels and he’d end up leaving in the middle of night, too afraid of his own feelings to let himself stay. Now, all he wanted to do was wake up next to Rowan each morning, with her mussed hair and small snores filling the room -- It’s enough that he finds himself blurting out the words in the middle of her telling him some story from her last tour. “Stay the night.” The words come out as his hand is pushing a piece of hair out of her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek. Three words, however, pull him back to reality, nerves returning like punch to the chest. “If you want to -- It’s -- I don’t mind if you don’t, I just -- If you want to, I’d.. really like it.” He stumbles over his words, hating himself for potentially ruining a perfectly good moment. 

Rowan doesn’t acknowledge when he tells her she doesn’t have to apologize. She knows that she doesn’t -- her thoughts and feelings are justified after years of the games they’ve played with each other, but she still can’t help but feel bad that she’d chosen tonight of all nights to bring it all to the surface. It’s supposed to be a celebration for him and she hadn’t gone there with plans of starting something -- though she can’t deny a selfish, vindictive part of her had brought Tyson for no reason other than to try and prove she had moved on -- but it had all been so overwhelming she hadn’t been able to stop herself. The surprise in Andy’s voice has her stopping in her tracks, brows furrowing at his question. You love me? Her head tilts with confusion because she has no idea how he couldn’t have known. It only occurs to her then that she’s never actually told him before. “I -- Yeah. Of course I do. I thought you knew.” It had seemed so obvious to her all of those years, why else would she have kept coming back time after time? Why else would she have tried so hard? When Andy tells her he loves her too she doesn’t quite know how to react to it. She feels like she’s spent so many years wanting to hear him say these things to her, and now that he finally is… she can’t help but be on guard about it all. So she simply nods, her lips pursing together momentarily. “I thought you hated me.” The admission comes out quieter than she would like it to, having envisioned this conversation as something far more volatile in her head a million times but they seem to have moved past that phase and into something softer, something more vulnerable. “That was the only way I could make any of the last few years make sense. That I was just… Convenient.” Her stomach twists uncomfortably as she speaks, knowing that it may not be what Andy wants to hear but it’s what she needs to say.

-- 

I hate snow. Of course she knew that and the words ‘I know, I remember’ sit on the tip of her tongue. One time they had been in Greenland in the middle of the winter season and the temperature outside the cabin they were in had dropped to nearly forty below zero during the night. She’d woken up in the middle of the night and Andy had been so stiff she had been a little afraid he had actually frozen to death, the sound of his deep breathing the only give indication that he hadn’t. That had been a long night, she remembers, and while she certainly wouldn’t consider it one of their best nights – it was a night with Andy which meant it was still one of her best nights. “So you’re not planning your retirement in Canada, then,” she hums out, instead of saying all of the things she really wants to say. Over their years together they had come up with a system — a handful of words that meant something to them, that would always start the process of jogging his memory. She wonders what would happen if she said one of them now. It would be so easy and it feels like they’re all fighting their way up her throat now that he is standing in front of her, her body aching for the familiar feeling of him close to her. She swallows them all back down though; she can’t. For all she knows he wouldn’t even want to remember – maybe now that he’s on his own he just wants to forget and leave everything behind. The thought has her chest caving in just a little and selfishly she hates the idea of Andy never remembering who she is – but the rosy tinge to his cheeks and the actual life behind her eyes reminds her that he deserves some peace after everything. Even if that peace isn’t with her.

With that in mind, she chalks it up to stupid hopefulness when she thinks that she see’s something flicker on his expression. Any hint at recognition or familiarity had surely all been in her mind, imagined simply because she wants him to remember her — but he doesn’t. He can’t. She’ll have to learn to be okay with that. “You should let yourself indulge in the finer things every now and then,” she muses, arms crossing over her chest as she lifts her shoulders in a shrug. Who is she to talk, though? It isn’t as if she has made herself a comfortable home somewhere – instead she’s spent most of her nights sleeping curled up on a seat in a shitty helicopter or a questionably sanitary safehouse in whatever country she and Reina had found themselves in while they figured out a way to get her friend’s out of prison but that doesn’t stop her from saying so anyway. “Pillowtop mattress, silk sheets, jacuzzi tub — the creature comforts are nicer on this side of everything than they were before. Well not this side of things like here. But somewhere – out there. ” Her arms uncross long enough to gesture vaguely toward the window, the Irish country side not looking very promising. 

She’s surprised when he actually answers the question about his arm, having fully expected him to shut her down and end he conversation. “At least you’re right handed,” she comments. Though she can’t help but wonder how it has effected him tactically, sure that it would be a learning curve as far as his balance and fighting style goes – though she doubts he had seen any combat in a high security prison in the middle of the ocean. When he thanks her for getting him out of prison she feels something inside of her shift. Rowan knows exactly what it is like to be left behind, to be locked up somewhere and wondering if anyone is coming for you. She wouldn’t ever do that to anyone, especially not to him even if he doesn’t know it. It had been hard enough every time they had to go their separate ways, knowing what he was going back to and the torture he was going to endure before she would see him again. There hadn’t been anything she could do to stop it even though she wanted to. The idea of ripping her tracker out in the middle of a mission had crossed her mind so many times but the chemicals embedded into her had made that an impossibility. “Don’t mention it. Happy to help.” Even if she feels like too little, too late. Suddenly she feels a little like she is suffocating and she has to take a deep breath to keep herself in that control she so desperately always strives for. “I need a drink,” she says simply, pushing off the wall and rummaging through a cabinet until she finds a handle of vodka and four shot glasses. Perfect. “If you make me drink alone after I broke you out of prison you’re a fucking asshole,” she points out, though she doesn’t allow herself to look at him again, instead focusing on filling the two glasses before sliding one over to him. 

--

Andy can’t help but feel like she’s holding her tongue, that she’s simply being polite rather than saying what she wants to. Maybe he’s making that up, maybe it’s his own confusion that’s clouding everything, leaving him feeling like a conspiracy theorist about his own life. Clearly, he hadn’t murdered anyone important to her -- He wouldn’t imagine Rowan would be having a casual conversation with him if he had; Andy assumes he would have gotten a knife in the back the second he turned away from her, if that were the case. Maybe they were friends. Maybe they were -- “The Yukon is out of the question.” He forces himself to say in an attempt to keep his thoughts from spiraling. It’s like he’s a teenager or something, unable to talk to a pretty girl -- The juxtaposition of this conversation to the last twelve hours only makes his head spin. Aside from small changes in his demeanor, Andy manages to keep a neutral expression, not giving away everything he’s thinking. That’s one of the perks of the last seventy years, in some twisted way -- At least now he’s got a good poker face. As a kid, he wore his heart on his sleeve, practically an open book with every emotion written across his face. 

Brows furrow as she speaks, a bit surprised at her suggestion. Andy may not know her -- You do though, idiot. You just don’t remember -- but knowing her past, he’d imagine she’d probably end up asleep on the floor as well, if not keeping a careful eye on the door of her bedroom the entire night. The idea of a soft bed, silk sheets, all of the mundane and obvious comforts, still feel out of arms reach for him, regardless of the circumstance -- A voice in the back of his head reminds him he doesn’t deserve any of them, anyway. “I’ll keep that in mind for the next safe house.” He can’t help the small smile that comes with his words, a slight chuckle following. This feels like they’re picking up a conversation from before, as tense as everything is -- Like they’re calling back to something from hours before. “This is probably one of the nicer safe houses I’ve been in. Beats getting --” He stops himself from bringing up being put on ice when a mission is over, put away until they need him to murder some world leader or senator. 

He watches her for a moment, not sure what else to say to her in that moment -- He finds himself studying her for a moment too long, nodding as she answers his thanks. A brow arches as she insists upon needing a drink, that he join her. It feels so familiar it’s jarring, leaving him only able to watch as she moves, pulling a bottle from a cabinet before calling him an asshole and pouring them shots. “Jesus, you really are Russian.” He teases her without missing a beat, as if he’s joked about this with her before. “I could use a drink.” Andy admits in a voice that doesn’t sound like his own -- It’s softer, a bit quieter even though they’re not in a position where they have to keep their voices down. He follows her lead, noting the way she doesn’t look back at him while she pours. Andy wonders if it’s deliberate, like he’d done before with the first aid kit -- Or if he was just starting spiral again, making up shit to fill in the gaps and ease his own stress. Moving to stand beside her, Andy becomes painfully aware of the distance between them -- He doesn’t let on to anything, though. Instead, he leans against the counter, facing her. Holding up the glass he’s been given, Andy taps it on the counter before downing it. “Cheers.”