A/N: Here I am again posting a new story when I haven't updated any of my multi-chapters yet... and this is another multi-chapter, doh! I just wanted to try something different. This is a pre-prison AU, or rather an AU where neither of our girls end up in Litchfield, but still end up meeting (cos I'm totally into that whole fate thing). I hope it isn't too confusing. I wanted something that wasn't angst ridden for once.
"Ayyyy fuck you too, Manny! Chose a great time to fucking grow a pair!" Nicky yells hoarsely after the car that's just deposited her heavily on the sidewalk, and is quickly disappearing around a corner.
It's just beginning to get light out, the streetlamps casting an almost redundant orange glow across the dirty asphalt, littered in old take-out containers and flyers ranging from band promotion to xxx-chatlines. Nicky doesn't remember what time she left home, but it was still light. She doesn't even really remember how she wound up at Manny's, let alone in his car, being thrown out onto an unfamiliar street corner on a side of town miles away from her loft in Manhattan.
"Oh my god, are you alright?"
She cranes her neck up in the direction of the voice, realizing too late that even such a small movement is going to send a rush of pain through her body, and squints at the tiny dark haired woman who is staring at her from the front steps of a house, dressed in a bathrobe, and fluffy rabbit slippers.
"I'm great," Nicky says, forcing herself into a seated position, grimacing at the wave of nausea that hits her, "just great. If you could tell me where the fuck I am, I would be even better."
Rather than just give her the directions, as Nicky had hoped, the figure in the doorway instead hurries down the front steps, almost tripping over her ridiculous footwear, and comes to a stop right beside Nicky.
"I'm not sure you should be goin' anywhere on account of the fact you were just tossed out a car," she says, and her voice is this awful mix of Brooklyn and New Jersey that grates on Nicky's already building headache, but at the same time is oddly attractive, and Nicky shakes the thought, concentrates on trying to stand.
She isn't entirely annoyed when tiny hands push her back against the sidewalk. Her head's rushing and her limbs are aching and okay yeah maybe moving right now isn't the greatest of ideas.
"Let me call you an ambulance?"
Nicky thinks she would laugh if it weren't for the pain it would cause her, "no thanks. I'm fine."
"Then I'll drive you someplace," the girl says, and her fingers are already smoothing back Nicky's hair, pressing against the trickle of blood that's making its way down her forehead, "to a hospital," she says, and Nicky turns to glare at her, but something about the softness in her eyes catches Nicky off guard.
"I don't need to go to a hospital I just need to get the fuck out of here."
The brunette stares at her, her lips forming a small pout, and her eyebrows pulling together, "do you ever say anythin' without cursing?"
It's a fair point but not something Nicky is used to getting pulled up on, certainly not by a stranger, and she suddenly feels like a child being scolded by a teacher (not a mother; that's not a feeling she's familiar with, not until recent years anyway), but the teacher is 5ft tall and pouting like a toddler.
"What's your name, kid?" she says, deciding that there's something about this girl's attitude that she likes, something that tells her that in any other situation, she'd be trying to get into her pants.
"Anita," the girl says, distractedly, still staring at the cut across Nicky's forehead, and Nicky tries the name out on her lips, doesn't quite think it suits her.
"Nicky," she says, "I'd shake your hand, but I can't feel my fingers,"
Anita tuts, lifting her hand and running her fingers lightly over the individual bones, and Nicky tries her best not to grimace as pain shoots up her arm. She really fucking hopes nothing's broken because she can't stand hospitals, and a plastered up arm is going to do nothing for her image. Manny better hope nothing's broken or I'll kick his ass, she thinks, but the idea of kicking anything right now is ridiculous.
"If you ain't gonna let me take you to a hospital, at least let me get some anti-septic for that graze on your head, and take you home."
She can see that there's no way this is gonna end without her agreeing to some form of help so, reluctantly, she nods, "deal."
She winds up in the passenger seat of a beat up Kia with a Disney Princess band-aid on her forehead.
It's got to be in the running for the worst night of Nicky's life, and to make it even worse, Anita is insisting on singing along to show tunes on the car stereo. If her head wasn't already pounding, an entirely out of tune rendition of The Sound of fucking Music would certainly have done the trick. And as if that wasn't bad enough, Nicky spends the entire car ride clinging to the seat with her good hand, whilst the girl drives recklessly around corners, barely looks at the road, and brakes half a second later than a normal person every damn time.
"So, is there gonna be someone at home to take care of you?" she chirps, as one song comes to an end and another one starts. Her slippers are on the back seat, replaced with a pair of sensible black pumps. Not that you can tell from her driving.
Nicky grunts. With some reluctance she's given the girl Red's address because even Nicky Nichols is willing to admit defeat when it comes to carrying her bruised body up four flights of stairs, and the telling off she's going to receive from Red is nothing in comparison. Red always jokes that she should make her a 'if lost, return to:' label for some of her heavier nights. Tonight's definitely been one of them.
"Y'know head wounds are pretty dangerous. I'd feel awfully guilty if you blacked out or somethin' and died."
"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence," Nicky says, rolling her eyes, "don't worry; someone will be home."
That seems to appease her because she stops asking questions. Nicky shifts in her seat to stare out the window, watching the unfamiliar slowly fade out as they move into her local territory.
"Can I smoke in here?" she says after a moment, and she isn't even remotely surprised when Anita turns to look at her, disregarding the road yet again.
"No. And I don't think all that smoke will do your body any good in it's current condition anyhow."
She sighs, but leaves her pack of smokes in her breast pocket anyway. If nothing else, contorting her body to retrieve them is probably going to hurt like a bitch and it isn't worth the effort.
Lorna has no idea why she lies. She has no idea why she does a lot of things lately. The words come tumbling out of her mouth before she can stop them. It's a compulsion. Similarly, getting attached to complete strangers seems to be becoming a habit.
When she was a child, she used to bring home strays. That was how they wound up with a big white rabbit who hated everyone and everything, and a skinny cat that needed feeding four times a day. They were the only friends she'd had when she was little. Whilst Franny was out playing with the older kids, making out with boys behind the bike shed, Lorna was at home playing animal hospital.
Maybe she never grew out of it.
There's something about this latest 'stray' that she finds fascinating, though. She's completely different from the strangers Lorna's normally drawn to; the guy at the grocery store with the lopsided smile and the bright blue eyes, the guy in the mail office who is never seen without a sweater and perfectly trimmed hair. Nicky looks like wild fire caught in a hurricane. Lorna's never seen anything like it, never believed she'd have any interest in someone who looks so destructive. But, here she is, driving her home, and trying to pretend that it's only being a good samaritan that's lead her to this point.
"Hey, Anita, do you ever look at the road or-?"
She's pulled out of her thoughts by the gruff voice of the woman beside her, and it brings a new kind of panic to her, hearing that name that isn't hers. She pauses, her mouth feeling dry, and forces a smile.
"Uh, it's Lorna," she corrects, wondering for the 5th or 6th time why she was stupid enough to lie about it in the first place, "I'm Lorna."
"Right... you in the habit of lying about your name to complete strangers?"
Lorna wrinkles her nose, shoots Nicky a look, "I don't know – are you in the habit of being thrown out of cars in the middle of the night?"
"Touché," Nicky replies, and Lorna thinks she might already love the smirk that rises on her lips.
"Besides, I didn't wanna get involved if it was some kinda mafia thing..."
Nicky howls at that, laughing so hard she starts to wheeze, "it is not a mafia thing – hey, take a right here,"
"Not a mafia thing, but you're directing me to the Russian part of town," she says, raising her eyebrows, "sounds like a mafia thing to me."
"It's not a fucking mafia thing okay. Manny's a friend, alright?"
Lorna scoffs, "yeah, some friend."
The road opens out into a market area, and they weave through people just starting to set up stalls for the day. Nicky directs Lorna through to a restaurant on one of the corners, and it's dark inside, bar a dim light over the door that illuminates the 'closed' sign that hangs there.
"This the place?" Lorna asks, shutting off the engine.
"Yeah. Look, thanks for the ride. I apologize for landing outside your house in the middle of the night, promise it won't happen again," she goes to open the passenger side door and pauses, grimacing in pain, "holy shit that hurt more than I thought it was going to."
Lorna rolls her eyes, "right, whether you like it or not, I'm gonna be helpin' you up to your door, alright? I don't want this on my conscious."
"Conscience," Nicky says, and Lorna stares at her blankly, "look, whatever, can we just hurry up? Pretty sure there's a bottle of scotch up there waiting for me."
I think you've had enough, Lorna thinks, but doesn't say. She's used to spending time with people who drink too much, and there's something about Nicky that is very different from when she's had to deal with her brothers, or her dad and his alcohol-induced tempers. Then again, being thrown out of a car is probably pretty sobering.
She climbs out of the car, moves over to the passenger side, and opens the door. Despite her cocky attitude, when Lorna offers Nicky a hand, she takes it, and together they heave her out of the car and onto wobbly legs. She doesn't refuse the arm that Lorna tucks around her to help her walk either, even grunts a 'thanks' which probably eats into her effortlessly cool image, but makes a smile grow on Lorna's lips. The way this woman feels pressed up against her shouldn't be nice and warm and shouldn't bring a glow to Lorna's cheeks, but it does. Her fingers brush against an expanse of bare skin where her t-shirt doesn't quite meet the top of her jeans, and she suddenly wonders what it would feel like to touch more of her, to let her hands roam over flesh. It's such a foreign thought that Lorna doesn't know what to do with it, so she files it away, decides she'll address it later.
They stumble to the door at the side of the restaurant, and Nicky's gripping her shoulder tightly all the way, only lets go when they've stopped, and Lorna takes it as a cue to untangle herself.
"Do you have a key or-?"
"I have no fucking idea where it is, so I'm gonna go with no," Nicky says, and she goes to knock, but Lorna gently pushes her hand away, noting the grazes on her knuckles, the still aching bones from earlier. She knocks instead, quietly, and then a little louder when nobody comes.
A few minutes later, she hears the sound of footsteps down bare stairs, and someone pulls various locks across, and the door edges open slightly, held closed with a chain, so that only a slither of somebody is visible. Before Lorna can speak, Nicky steps in front of her.
"Hi," she says, and if Lorna isn't mistaken, there's a hint of sheepishness in the way she shifts awkwardly beside her, can't quite keep her eyes on the door.
There's a grumble from the other side, before the door closes, the sound of metal on metal loud in the quiet street, and finally the door opens to reveal a stern-looking older woman with a flash of dark red hair.
"Oh, this better be good," she says, her accent thick and Russian.
"Good to see you too, Ma."
So, she wasn't exactly expecting Red to welcome her home with open arms, but the string of Russian expletives that leave her lips as she beckons them both in is a bit much. Nicky enjoys the way Lorna's eyebrows raise at the unexpected outburst, the awkward way she fidgets when Red seats her on the couch, how her hands rest uneasily in her lap.
"You high again, off your face like last time?" Red asks, standing in the doorway with a weary expression on her face, her hands on her hips, glaring Nicky down.
"What? No! Ma! I may have had a... bit to drink but I'm fucking clean. You know I don't do that shit anymore. Jesus Christ..."
Nicky's cut short by Red smacking her around the head, and it sends a fresh pain shooting through her in a domino effect, and it hurts so bad she feels like she might throw up, but it passes after a moment.
"Could you cut that out? I feel like I just fucked a bulldozer, I don't need you smacking me about as well."
"You are a stupid little girl," Red says, certainly not for the first time, and then she marches out of the room. When she reappears, she sets an ice pack, a glass of water, and a packet of aspirin down on the table.
"Thank you, Mommy."
Up until now, Red's barely paid any attention to the stranger sitting stiffly on her couch, probably much to Lorna's relief if the look on her face is anything to go by, but as Nicky pops two of the aspirin out of the packet, she turns to the girl who is still wearing her pajamas, and frowns.
"You don't look like one of Nicky's friends," she says, bluntly.
Lorna looks at her with wide eyes, startled, and Nicky can't really blame her; Red is a force to be reckoned with at the best of times. And Lorna seems like a nice girl. She doesn't seem like the kind of person who gets caught up with heroin addicts and scary Russian ladies. Nicky remembers her comment from earlier, about not wanting to get caught up in 'a Mafia thing', and almost chokes on her water as she downs it.
"I, uh, I'm-"
"Ayy, leave her alone. She's the good samaritan who drove me over here, okay? I'm not fucking her, if that's what you're thinking."
She enjoys the way Lorna's eyebrows fly into her hairline and her cheeks flush, simultaneous with the look of disgust that comes across Red's features. Nicky's never been one for beating around the bush; say things as they are. And okay maybe Lorna has learnt more about her in the past five minutes than she needed to, but at the end of the day, she's going to go downstairs, get into her car, and drive off, and Nicky need never see her again, so what does it matter?
Four days later, and Nicky's ribs still ache every time she takes a breath, her fingers still don't quite feel right, and her head's still thumping on and off all day, but she feels a little less like death. Red, of course, wanted to take her to the hospital, but she refused. Hospitals hold only the worst memories for her. The last time she had wound up in one, it was from a fucking heart infection, and she'd almost died. In fact, when she'd woken up, she'd wished she had, especially when she found her mother at her bedside. Hospitals offer nothing but condescending nurses tutting over her lifestyle choices, refusing to wheel her outside for a cigarette, making appalled faces over her indecent sense of humor. She's better off dosing up on aspirin and getting on with it.
She almost does a double take when she walks into the restaurant and sees the girl sitting at the counter, squeezed into a tight denim dress, her hair up, her face coated in make-up. It doesn't look like the same person at all, but when she turns and her face lights up, her fingers waving in Nicky's direction, it's unmistakably her. Frowning, Nicky crosses over to her, frustrated that her usual level of bravado hasn't returned to her yet, and hauls herself up onto the stall beside her.
"Man, I read you completely wrong the other day, huh? You're not a hooker, are you? Cos that dress..."
The brunette's expression changes completely, but eventually she laughs, shakes her head, "no, I ain't. And you seem to be doing a lot better. Or at least your sense of humor is."
"You come all the way over here to check on my sense of humor?" Nicky asks, and she can't help but feel herself smile at the way Lorna's cheeks go pink, the way she looks away.
"Don't flatter yourself; I heard they sell the best peeroshies-"
Chuckling, Nicky corrects her: "pirozhkis. And ayy, they are pretty good, but you should taste what else they've got here."
The signature Nichols side-ways smirk isn't entirely necessary, because Lorna blushes anyway, and Nicky enjoys watching it creep from Lorna's cheeks down her neck as she looks down, away. She knows she's coming on strong, but that's how she plays, and if Lorna wasn't the least bit interested, she wouldn't have come here.
"I should tell you I have a boyfriend, right?" Lorna says, meeting her eyes again.
"I dunno, should you?"
She smiles, "I don't know, but... I do. Have a boyfriend, I mean."
Nicky shrugs, pretends it doesn't bother her. And it shouldn't. She can have whoever she wants, and this isn't the first time she's chased after a straight girl, not the first time she's persuaded a girl to forget her boyfriend for a quick fuck, but somehow this is different. Lorna's different. She doesn't know if it's because she's been clean too long, or because this girl has a name and a personality and isn't just someone she picked up in a bar, but she knows it's different.
"What does he do, this boyfriend of yours?"
"He's in the army," Lorna says quietly, and there's a hint of sadness in her voice that makes Nicky's chest ache.
"Deployed?" she asks, but she doesn't need to hear the answer; it's written all over Lorna's face.
She bobs her head in a nod, and Nicky hates herself for the sense of relief and hope that pricks through her, shakes it off.
"Shit, that sucks," she says, instead, and leaves it at that.
A/N: The next chapter is half written so it will be up pretty soon. I so apologize for not updating my other fics. I've got almost-chapters completed for practically all of them, which I will be posting hopefully this week. Thanks for your patience! And I'd love to hear some feedback on this (though I admit I owe a lot of you reviews – I promise I'm working on it).