"I can't fuckin' believe this," Dante's voice came out significantly nasally due to clamping a hand over his heavily bleeding nose. He rested his head against the passenger side window of his own car as they left Stanhope behind, returning to Leonardo.
"What, that you're letting me drive your car?" Randall briefly turned his head away from the road to peer at Dante through the darkness.
"Yeah that and the fact that you broke my nose," he huffed.
"Oh like it was on purpose! Jesus, Dante," Randall shook his head. "It's just a broken nose, it's not like it's the end of the world. You're such a baby sometimes, you know that?"
"You didn't even apologize!"
"Psh, as if the word 'sorry' is going to make your nose stop hurting. What are you going to ask for next? A kiss for your boo boo?"
"Why are you so sour? You didn't get hurt back there."
"Maybe not physically, but I have to admit I'm pretty emotionally sore. We left halfway through the Alice in Chains concert, and that definitely hurts me."
"You tried to convince me to stay longer!"
"But nooo, we couldn't because you were getting blood on your clothes. What does that even matter? Blood washes out if you use cold water," Randall's scowl became audible in his words. The car went quiet until they were on the edge of Leonardo, when Randall broke the silence. "Sorry, man."
"For what?"
"For breaking your nose, jackass."
"I thought apologies wouldn't stop the pain," Dante replied, but this time his voice lacked any trace of the bitterness it had when they first began the drive back home. Now he just sounded tired.
Randall pulled into Dante's driveway and shifted into park.
"I'll walk home, I don't really want to deal with bringing it back to you in the morning," Randall sighed, cutting the engine.
"Just sleep here," Dante muttered before climbing out of the car. The flow of blood from his nose had stopped.
"What, with you in your bed full of crumbs?" Randall quipped, locking the car doors.
"I was thinking you could take the couch, but if you need someone to sleep with since you're not at your mom's house then I guess my door's open," Dante joked as best as he could. He was exhausted as he led Randall into the house. Randall hung back while Dante kept going in the direction of his bedroom.
Dante tiredly changed out of his blood spotted clothes, trading his sweater for an old t shirt, and he didn't bother putting pajama pants on. He crawled into his bed and under the blankets. He was almost asleep when the bed dipped rapidly and creaked, and there was a solid weight next to him.
"What the hell are you doing?" Dante groaned.
"You said your door's open. No take backs," Randall was definitely grinning. "Besides, I'm not sleeping on your piece of shit couch."