#temptag

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A plethora of crates unfolded in front of me as I stepped into storage room four. I couldn’t say I was surprised that nobody else had volunteered to tidy up that mess but, unbeknownst to them, they had actually done me a favor. Mundane, annoying tasks like these were the perfect distraction from all the mess going on in my head. I’d thought that finally accepting this whole whatever-it-was between Jakob and me would improve my mind situation. But once again, it hadn’t exactly worked out as I’d hoped. I should’ve been mad because he hurt me - kind of - , but instead I was mad that he was mad that he had hurt me. What sense did that make? How twisted was I at this point?

Angry at myself, I pried open the first crate only to find it filled with illegal bottles. Wine, Whiskey, I even found a bottle of Champagne - what a disgrace. It was one of those days where I’d let it slide. The ‘No Alcohol’ rule in the project had always bothered me anyway, especially considering John’s expansive cellar repertoire of only the priciest of brands; and Jakob’s fridge that never missed beer. Faith, and even Joseph himself, probably had their own storage of whatever their favorite drinks were, making them all hypocrites. 

Just as I was about to close the lid, I couldn’t fight the urge to steal one of the whiskey bottles anymore. Nobody would notice and I really needed it. Yeah, solving problems with alcohol was never a good thing but the mere thought of it numbing at least some of the confusion was too tempting. I hopped onto the crate, opened the bottle and took a large sip, large enough to burn a little in the throat and to give me the warm feeling of getting tipsy. And after another few, the day suddenly seemed a lot less bad.

“Why’s it that half the time I run into ya there’s alc involved?” I stood corrected, the day was bad. The one fucking voice I didn’t want to hear, owned by the source of my problems. “Weren’t you supposed to be in the Henbane today?”, I asked dryly and refused to look at him. “I guess we’re both not doin’ what we’re supposed to do, Shorty.” “I’m tidying up, that’s what Tucker asked me to do. So the only person in the wrong place is you.” From the corner of my eye I could see that he was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed and if I had actually bothered to look properly, I’d have found him staring me down. This wouldn’t end well, it never did. “Y’know the good thing ‘bout being the boss is that I can change my plans whenever I wanna.” “And why exactly did you decide getting on my nerves is the better option? The Henbane business sounded important.” I needed more whiskey for this. 

Jakob remained silent for a moment that felt like an eternity. Not that I desperately wanted him to talk, but whenever he got caught up in his thoughts I didn’t know what to make of him. Part of me expected him to get angry again, this time shouting at me for going radio silent for a couple of days. Though, I did have to admit that it was a stupid and childish thing to do. I needed to learn how to talk things out at least as much as he did, but instead we were both unbelievably bad at it. “You finally gonna tell me why the fuck ya left the other day.” The demanding tone in his voice bothered me immediately and I swallowed an unspoken ‘or what?’. 

When I didn’t answer right away he came closer, too close. He rested his palms on each side next to me on the crate and I finally looked him in the eyes. “I’ll get ya to talk one way or the other, you know that.” I knew that. But instead of talking I rolled up my sleeve and held up my bruised arm in front of him. The one that hit the counter when he pushed me away the other day. “This is why.” He immediately pressed his lips together and I could see the anger he tried to suppress. It wasn’t anger towards me. “Ya said we’re good”, slipped through his teeth. “I’m not mad at you.” “Then why?” I averted my eyes. “I’m mad at myself.” “What?” He didn’t understand and I couldn’t blame him. “I should be more bothered by this Jake! It’s not fucking okay! But instead I... “ Not even knowing how I had initially planned to finish the sentence I clung onto the bottle once more. Finishing it would knock me out enough to not give a fuck anymore for sure. 

Unfortunately he picked up on my thoughts and swiftly pulled it out of my hands. “Give it back for fucks sake!” But he ignored me. As usual. I let out a sigh and gave up my effort to not look at him. “It’s not okay, you right. Though, we both beat each other up worse before in training.” “Intentions, Jakob. They matter. They should matter. And that’s the god damn problem!” Another hopeless attempt to get the bottle back failed. “I should be fucking mad that you pushed me. For fucks sake, that’s what normal people would do, right? But you know what I do? I feel mad because ...because you got mad, because at the end of the day I don't care about it. I know you weren't...you. And that makes me angry because it’s wrong!” 

He raised an eyebrow and frowned, then finally shook his head. “You think too much.” “Well, I can’t help it. You do see what’s wrong here don’t you?” “Does it really matter, Rheese?” Now I was the one who didn’t understand. “If ya start with that right or wrong bullshit, I think ya gonna find a lot more wrong here than right about everythin’.” After a short pause he added: “Hell, almost all of this is wrong anyway.” Now he was the one taking a giant sip out of the whiskey bottle. Pouting, I watched him lower it while making damn sure to keep it out of my reach. “So I wanna know, does it really matter?” 

After my own moment of silence I shook my head. “It’s just a damn mess”, I said in defeat and he gave me the hint of a smile. “Can I have my bottle back now? I need more drinks for this.” “Ain’t yours when ya stole it.” His smile turned into the cursed one I always wanted to rip out of his face. My blood started to boil. “Stop being an ass! I had it first!” “Thief complaining about being robbed, if it were someone else I’d have called it cute.” I punched his arm. “Fucking asshole! I just want more whiskey and I damn right deserve it for putting up with you!” He roughly grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. “Didn’t I tell ya to be careful ‘bout how you talk to me?” “Where’s the fun in that?”, my voice sounded more seductive than I wanted it to, but I couldn’t deny that I missed certain things between us. 

He took another sip from the bottle but I realized he didn’t swallow. Instead, he held my face in place and I’d already opened my mouth in anticipation as our lips met. The Bourbon tasted sweeter than before and a strange feeling of urgency overcame me. I leaned into the kiss more and the hasty movement caused some of it to drip out of my mouth. Jake moved his hand further back and tightened his grip, making sure I wouldn’t pull away. Not that I had any intention to. My fingers started to cling onto his shirt and I made damn sure he wouldn’t move away from me either.

After a long while that still felt too short, he stopped and fixed his posture. “You’re disgusting’’, I laughed, still holding onto his shirt. “The one time I do what ya ask me for.” He smiled meanly, removing my hands from his shirt and resting them on my own lap. “Not a very efficient way to get drunk, but I could live with it”, my voice sounded a little weaker than I’d liked. Slowly he moved away from me and towards the door, where he stopped and looked back at my flustered self with that damned smug smile on his face. “If ya wanna continue, come home tonight.” He was sure I would agree, with the face expression of someone too used to getting what he wanted.