A/N: Haven't really felt like writing for a while so I feel kind of rusty at this. I owe this idea to a chat with a friend of mine, Cheers Hun. Enjoy.
I don't own the characters and the title belongs to Ac/Dc.
Have a drink on me.
She hears the words; a confession followed by a hastily stumbled apology that rings hollow and empty in her ears. Then he's calling her name like a broken record only this time it makes her stomach roll and her skin crawl. As usual his voice is so calm, carries the same honey coated, silver tongue tone that can deliver the world wrapped in lies.
It's not like she hadn't expected it. They never made vows or moonlit promises that neither one of them would be able to keep and despite that she had known that it would still hurt. Maybe like a plaster pulled too slow or a needle point across skin, but for some reason it's worse. It's a kick in the gut. A knife in the back. A well placed round through the base of her skull.
Somehow she manages to hold that well practiced expression of hers pinned carefully in place.
"Revy are you listening?"
She doesn't meet his eyes, wants him to start doubting himself, wants his nerves to fray and prickle uncomfortably for as long as possible. She's not quite ready to let him assuage his guilt.
With that thought a realisation hits her. Before she knows it she is laughing so hard at the absurdity of it that her sides are starting to ache and she thinks that she might actually come apart at the seams.
When she stops to catch her breath she can't help but notice that he's watching her. It's that look that gets her. The one that makes her think that maybe her can see right through to her rotten septic heart.
"Have you finished?" she asks, her voice carefully numb. "What were you expecting me to say? I'm not your god damn mother, or your babysitter. Some days I'm hardly even a fucking friend." He gives the barest of flinches at her words and she almost feels vindicated.
Still he just stands there watching her.
Where she felt pain before, now she feels the anger bite. She clutches at the familiarity of it, fans the embers, make the flames rise to burn away everything else. It is easier to be angry than the alternative.
"What do you want Rock? You want forgiveness? I ain't a fucking priest. You want someone to tell you what to do? 'Cause we both know that's not me." She sneers with almost as much venom as she spits. "I don't give a fuck what you do. Thanks for the laugh though. I needed it."
She downs the rest of her glass in one quick mouthful. Barely pauses before she pours herself another. His face is screwed up like he's been chewing wasps or someone has stolen his favourite toy. It's been a long time since he's looked so disappointed.
"What's the matter Rock. Didn't get the reaction you were hoping for? You want me to help you stop feeling guilty? 'Cause I've got the best fucking cure in the world."
With one hand she slides the glass across the table to him, the sudden movement causing the amber liquid to slop over the rim.
"First one's on me."