#offtheprairie

send “ (ɔ ˘⌣˘)˘⌣˘ c) “ to snuggle with my muse

Oscar loved late night tv, the trashier the better, but he’d given it up for a little while when Dawn first started crashing on his couch. Eventually, however, he’d said “fuck it” and decided to go back to his regular routine, even if she was there next to him. Probably silently judging him. Probably annoyed at him. Probably thinking he--

Oh. She fell asleep on his shoulder. Shit.

He looked at her and found himself holding his breath, not wanting to move or disturb her. She was cute, like a cat or something, and you can’t move if a cat falls asleep on you. It’s against the laws of human decency. It’s against the laws of cuteness.

      “Oh… uh… my roommate kicked me out so…” There was clearly more to the story but she wasn’t about to go into the details without a little prodding. Dawn shuffled in past Oscar, dripping water on his shoes and leaving a little trail on her way to the little kitchen just inside the door. There she shed her outer layers, letting it fall to the floor in a soggy heap. Then she kicked off her shoes and used her toes to peel the equally soaked socks from her feet. Her attention started to wander even as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her sweatpants, bright eyes darting over Oscar’s living space as skinny hips shimmied out of half drenched pants, dropped into the growing pile. At least she wore shorts underneath, a little skimpy maybe but still short, and her over-sized tshirt was dry enough.

"I figured that was the least of your problems,” he said, closing and locking the door behind her. As she came in and started undressing, he clapped a hand over his eyes and turned around.

Normally, he would say no. He wasn’t the type of person to just let random people into his apartment. In fact, he glared at her and opened his mouth to tell her to scram at first, but then he realized that she looked like she’d been through hell. It was raining outside, to boot, and she was drenched like a wet rat.

The party had finally wound down and Oscar had done enough bitching that people were just about pushing him out the door to leave, which was all good and dandy with him. Dawn went with him, since she was still crashing at his place while she got back on her feet. The two of them had had a good amount to drink and were stumbling a bit. She stumbled into him and he caught her, grumbling at her giggling, though he didn’t let go. For the last block or so back to the apartment, they walked while holding onto each other, maybe too drunk to realize how close they were to each other. Besides, it was cold out.

He fumbled with the keys at the door and, having leaned his whole weight against it as he did so, finally unlocked and swung open with a woosh, leaving him to slide to the ground. Dawn, still holding onto him, landed on top of him. He was so inebriated it actually took him a moment to realize what had just happened as he stared, blinking, up at the young woman who was clearly blushing.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the fact they’d just been to a party and it was the New Year, or maybe this had just been a long time coming. But Dawn leaned down and kissed him softly, which made him blush, and then she quickly pulled away and got up.

“Happy New Year!”

Oscar looked up at her from where he still lay, dazed at everything that had happened. He found that he couldn’t even be mad.

Oscar came home from work, still in his coveralls and stinking of the day’s trash. His eyes were immediately drawn to the decorations. “What the--?”

Looking around, he tried to spot whoever had done such a thing. He could think of a few people, but most of them would have stuck around and probably jumped out from behind his couch to give him a damn heart attack... except one person. He wasn’t sure if she would stick around at all, or come back later to see how he was faring with it.

Oscar startled awake on the couch, having passed out there the night before. He’d told Dawn he’d been jumped by a couple assholes on his way home from work, but insisted he was just tired and sore and bruised and he’d feel better in the morning. What he hadn’t realized was that one of the guys had knifed him in the lower back at some point. With all the kicking and punching and adrenaline, it didn’t feel much different from his other injuries.

“Tell you what was what bad?” he attempted to yell back, but was too confused and light-headed to put much force into it. As he tried to sit up, a twinge in his back sucked all the breath out of him, forcing him to lay back down. He opened one eye and looked down, noticing the blood soaking into the couch cushions.