Waking up was, without question, the worst part of the day, Becca mused as she slowly began to stir. It meant that at best, you were going to roll over and get worse sleep than you did before. Most likely, you were going to have to shuffle out of bed, get some food, and force yourself to lurch towards wakefulness.
Bed was feeling unusually comfy today, though, probably because she was currently being cuddled like an extraordinarily sexy teddy bear. Taking stock of her current sitch, either she had gotten absolutely blasted and brought home some gigolo after what happened in the apartments, or she was remembering last night correctly and should probably suppress the urge to giggle like some romance vid gonk.
Cracking one crimson eye, she glanced up at the dimpled cheeks resting just above her and restrained a pleased grin. So, David was currently wrapped around her, his chest slowly rising and falling as he dozed in the midday sunlight streaming through her window. He looked so peaceful like that.
Pressing back into his chest for a moment, she closed her eyes and considered where she stood. Well, unless David was completely and utterly dense, she had made it unambiguously clear how she had come to feel about him. She wasn't in love, and that wasn't just denial. It was way too soon to call the affection she felt for him love. Still, it was enough to get him flushy, and heated, and—
Violently refocusing as she realized she was smirking, Rebecca scrunched up her eyes and let out a deep breath. No no, this was time for thinking with her brain, not her pants. Even if the adorable idiot was making it really, really hard right now. Last night had been incredibly blatant; that meant there was maybe a fifty-fifty chance he had realized. Assuming he wasn't actually so fucking dense that he had let that pass, there was a conversation she owed him.
Pilar…his death would take some figuring out. She'd need some time to let that settle, but having David here had really helped. She didn't want him to leave, but he had to go sooner or later. If he hadn't needed to leave yet, he was probably fine for a little while longer, right?
Sneaking another look up at him, she nearly yelped and leapt out of the bed in alarm as she noticed her pillow had cracked his eyes open and was looking down at her with amusement. "You alright there, Becca?" he asked, voice still heavy with sleep.
"Sorry. I wake you up?" she said, faintly embarrassed. Still, she latched onto the fact that he wasn't pulling away or acting awkward about their current position. Rather than the bewilderment or flinching of some drunken hookup from a sitcom, there was no awkwardness or hesitation, just his arms wrapped around her. She definitely needed cuddles as she tried to figure out how to address the situation.
"I uh…do you remember asking me if I had called someone last night?" What the fuck? What kind of answer was that? She did, but only vaguely. She had drifted off a bit before he finished, exhaustion finally dragging her into its clutches. "Well…I called Lucy. Had to sort some stuff out." His speech seemed a bit rushed, as if trying to get all his words out without stumbling or losing momentum. "I don't know how to put this well, but... Whatever this is, it's important to me. Lucy…is important to me in a different way. Not–" He gestured somewhat helplessly between the two of them, trying and failing to clarify that statement "–like this."
"I… David, if I said 'I understand', I'd be fucking lying. What does any of that mean?" she said, leaning back a little and frowning at him. Was he rejecting her? It didn't sound like it.
Rubbing his head and shifting his hair about in a distractingly adorable way, David frowned for a moment before looking back. "Okay. Okay, really putting that straight-A student history to use, huh? Simple as I can." Sitting up a bit, he pointed outwards. "Me and Lucy: Friends. Important to each other. Platonic." Then he gestured between himself and Rebecca. "Me and You: I don't know yet. But I like whatever is happening now, and I really like you. That clear enough?" He swallowed thickly, sweat beading on the sides of his face as he looked at her with crimson cheeks,not quite able to meet her eyes.
It wasn't the most eloquent explanation of a guy's feelin's, but it'd work. "Alright. I'm not too good at bein' 'just friends' with someone I'm into, yknow? If I'm going too fast, you gotta tell me. Until then…" She glanced at the HUD clock, and groaned. "We've been asleep for like 5 hours, unless you gotta leave, I suggest my pillow lays down and we both go the fuck back to sleep"
"Hell. Yes," David echoed, flopping back down and bundling her up against his chest again. From there, time fell away into a warm and comfortable blur, until David twitched sharply again. At almost the exact same time, a message appeared for her in a newly made groupchat.
David, I'm making pozole tonight. Rebecca, you're invited as well. Try not to be too late.
What the fuck? Well, no way she was getting back to sleep now.
Puffing slightly with the exertion of ascending an entire building, Jackie pulled himself over the edge of the rusty ladder he was climbing and onto the rooftop. V had texted him back about half an hour ago, giving coordinates to a factory in the docks and a picture showing them sprawled out on the edge of the roof looking exhausted. It was in an empty part of the docks, quiet behemoths of steel and concrete wedged together in a heap that crouched gargoyle-like on the edge of the sea.
He found the ex-corpo sitting on a ratty old couch, slowly draining a bottle of Donaghy's. Tossing the emerald snake-wrapped bottle to one side, it hurtled over the edge as V raised a hand towards Jackie.
"Sssssssup. Glad ya found the place." They slumped back on the couch as Jackie looked around in confusion. There were a few tables, some drink coolers, various other bits and bobs, and a caved-in soundstation strewn around on this rooftop. It looked like someone had been in the middle of a party.
"V, uh…what've you been doing up here?" he asked hesitantly, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. His friend grunted, and reached for another bottle.
"This's my thinkin' spot. Come up here to be alone. Some Maelstrom fuckers were havin' a party up here."
"Uh. I… see." Jackie looked around at the entirely empty rooftop, and then back at V. "Where are they now?"
"Oh, y'know." V took a deep sip, and exhaled in satisfaction. "Around."
Grunting in acknowledgement, Jackie snagged one of the plundered Maelstrom beers and cracked it open, letting the foam wash over his lips as he took three big gulps before wiping it away. Turning to look at V, he raised an eyebrow. "What's eatin' ya? I didn't think you liked Maine that much, so what's going on?"
Running a hand through their hair, V gestured to a few chairs and faux-wood plastic crates on the far side of the roof. On them were pictures of various people in suits, with a variety of knives stuck in the images. Now that he looked closer, he noticed a forest of knife handles stuck into the couch's arm next to where V sat.
The former agent grabbed one, yanking it out and flipping it to hold it by the blade before hurling it across the roof where it slammed into one of the crates with a dull "thunk". Snorting, V lolled their head back and looked over at him. "That right there was Harry. We went out to lunch last week. I covered for him when he got me files late, all the time. Bitch next to him is Collin, kept saying he would help me dress better if I told him where I got my hair done.
"I worked with these fuckers for years. I burned my soul to ash with late nights, tough decisions, and more than a couple dead bodies. Not one call, not one email or anything. Far as I can tell, they all deleted my contact info as soon as I was fired."
Standing up, the drunken victim of corporate restructuring gestured with a bottle in hand. "What the fuck was it all for? I'm so, so goddamn tired, Jackie. I did my best and chased the dream and now it's all gone. Hell, I didn't even get the pleasure of saying my sense of right and wrong talked me out of it. No, it was getting caught between a rock, a hard place, and a god-damn titanium dildo up my ass."
Draining the remains of the bottle, they turned and walked over to the edge, hurling it as hard as they could into the sky. It arced through the air, shattering against the side of a nearby crane with a melodious crackle as it sent sparkles of color down towards the streets below. Turning back, V threw their hands up. "And now what. I go fuckin' sneaking through abandoned shitholes and high-security buildings, working outside the law to make a buck. Fuck, Jackie. You got any idea what it's like to just see everything go up in smoke like that?"
Raising his eyebrow, Jackie spread his arms. "V. Motherfucker. My mama and I live in a tiny cramped shithole we can only afford with gang money. I woulda killed to live in the closet you got on your apartment. Hell, I have killed for one more step up that ladder. Stop complainin' and start figuring out how you're gonna find your way back up, ey?" Taking another swig, he grunted. "Also, fight some people who have a Calavera or two next time. Hate this swill."
"You're a tasteless bastard, and not to mention a prick, but you've got a fucking point," V muttered, before walking over and grabbing another knife. Grabbing it between two fingers, they swung overhand and threw at an angle, tongue between their teeth as they concentrated. It slammed into a picture of an uptight-looking woman attached to a chair. Sitting back down, they took another drink, holding the bottle aloft and considering it for a moment.
"I had a bottle of alcohol I was saving. Bottle of sixty year old port from a brewery in the northeast that's been closed for longer than I've been alive. I was gonna crack it open when I finally felt like I had made it. I wanted to feel like I was accomplishing something, like people would remember my name. Now that I'm out, I feel like I can breathe for the first time in almost a decade, and the bottle was probably cleared out with all the rest of the stuff from my pad so I can't fucking drink it." Grabbing another knife, V continued to perforate their old coworkers with unnecessarily large quantities of steel.
To one side, the flickering neon monoliths of Corpo Plaza blocked out the sky, an impenetrable fortress of capitalism that drew millions inexorably inward and down. Ironclad and unchanging. On the other, the endless dusty wastes of the Badlands. Orange sand and rolling hills of rock, with any houses or buildings so tiny and insignificant that they were impossible to see. Shifting and empty. It was a stark reminder of why he stayed here, Jackie mused.
This city was the city of dreams. It was where people came to make them come true, and where those dreams came to die. Yet, if there was anywhere that the impossible could happen, it was Night City. This was where fortunes had been made, lost, and stolen. Where Rache Bartemoss had made his name before he'd caused the greatest disaster since the Collapse. Where a young Kerry Eurodyne had emerged to become America's own God of Rock. And where Johnny Silverhand had nuked Arasaka. "Well. One day, I'll buy ya another bottle, or probably steal it. Call it a gift for having my back yesterday."
Laughing despite themselves, V reached over and clinked their bottle against his. "I'll hold you to that, choom. Don't go dying on me before you can follow through, or I will absolutely ruin your funeral." Chuckling, they pulled the last knife out of the arm of the couch, and then handed it over to Jackie, handle-first. "Give it a go?" Hefting the knife, he pulled back and gave it a throw. It sailed through the air, over the boxes, and vanished over the edge of the roof. V took another sip. "Damn it, Jackie, that was my favorite knife."
"Really?"
"Pffft. No, you gonk. I stole all these off gangers. They're all garbage."
"Yeah, 'bout what I figured. That, or you had shit taste." Falling into a companionable silence, Jackie stretched. "Hey, tell ya what. Let's go get food. My treat. We can hit up that place what does that locust-meat spice bag you like."
Stretching languidly, V glanced around. "Yeah, alright. Lemme go find where I threw my actual favorite knife, and clean up some of this mess. Don't want to encourage more roof parties." Getting to their feet, they poked around for a minute before finding a pair of pants. Tying the legs off, the drunken edgerunner began filling it with bottles and garbage before hooking a finger through a belt-loop and heading over to the ladder. Shrugging, Jackie grabbed a jacket and began to do the same. Heading down the ladder, he moved over to the nearby dumpster.
Pausing, he cocked his head. It sounded like someone was groaning from within the dumpster, the container giving it a weird, metallic sound. Slowly lifting the lid, he looked in. Within the dumpster were the comatose bodies of several Maelstrom gangers. Staring for a moment, he shrugged, then dropped the makeshift sack of glass bottles in and closed the lid, grabbing a nearby piece of pipe and wedging it shut.
He should probably text his mama that he'd be out. When he did, a response came back almost immediately.
That's fine. I was going to invite David and his output over anyway. Can you give me Rebecca's number please?
Uh, Mama, why are you saying that? Also, I don't want the chica pissed at me.
Jackie Welles. What is the girl's number?
Ah, fuck. If Rebecca asked how she got it, he was playing stupid until he was lowered into a coffin. Sending the contact, he quickly headed for the car. "Oi, V! I might need to crash at your place, I don't think Rebecca knows where that is."
"What? The hell did you do?"
Taking a deep breath, she slipped her hands into her pockets and followed David into his house. The smell of some sort of aromatic stew drifted in from the kitchen, and she had to admit it smelled pretty damn good. Still, the mystifying force of nature who was stirring it was her main focus right now. How had Mama Welles known about her? What was this Minority Report shit?
David had seemed just as bewildered as she did. Had Lucy called her and sold her out? If that bitch had decided to align herself with Mama Welles to get back at her, so help her she would fistfight the whore. Stepping forwards, she adjusted the sweater she was wearing, praying the she-devil wouldn't notice Rebecca was wearing the clothes she had loaned her.
His grandma glanced over her shoulder, and gave David a warm look as she stepped away from the stove to hug him. "Welcome home. Glad to see you're alright. David, would you mind running back to the Cojo? I left the radishes, limes, onion and cabbage there, and the food will be done in a bit." David glanced between his grandma and Rebecca, then nodded slowly.
"Uh, sure. No problem. Be right back." He turned on his heel, but was stopped by a quick whistle and an imperiously arched eyebrow.
"Boy, don't go using that damn implant to blur down there, you'll squash my poor vegetables. Not to mention someone will see you appear out of nowhere and shoot you on reflex. It takes two minutes, take your time." Clicking her tongue as David exited at a light jog, she glanced over at Rebecca. "Well, now. Don't just stand there in the door! Sit down, sit down."
Cautiously moving over to the table, she slid into a chair. The air was filled with heat and spice, and that was definitely the only reason she was sweating. Mama Welles hummed for a moment, tasting whatever was in the pot, then spoke calmly as she continued stirring. "So, you and David are together now, eh?"
"Uh…maybe?"
"What's maybe supposed to mean? You not sure if you like him? Just playing around till you get bored?" The older woman's tone was flat, sharp, and her tongue was striking snakelike as she kept calmly stirring.
"No! No I just—I fuckin' lost my brother yesterday, you old hag!" She burst out, slamming her hands on the table. "David was taking care of me, and I got a bit too… talky. I don't want him feeling like I guilted him into something, he said he was still figuring things out! Doncha make out like I'm some two-bit gold digger!" Her outburst was cut off when she saw the elder Welles's shoulders shaking.
"¡Ay!, so intense," she got out between laughs. As her chuckling tapered off, she waved a hand dismissively. "Calm down, nina. I have to see what you're about. Jackie's got a good heart, but he's too trusting at times, and I want to make sure my only grandson is thinking with his corazon and not his pinga. But you helped him home, you showed up here when I asked." Tapping the spoon on the edge of the pot for a moment, she shrugged.
"Jackie, he gave me an update that he and David were both safe, but some of the crew had been lost. After the night of Gloria's funeral, I figured that's why he hadn't come home. I admit, I was a bit worried you had used losing your brother to get him into your bed."
"I mean, technically yes, but not in that way, ma'am," Rebecca said before her mind could catch up with her mouth. Wincing, she relaxed a little when Mama Welles laughed.
"Ma'am! No, no, no. Mama Welles is more than fine. I don't hate you, nina. I just worry. You and David and Jackie…you all throw yourselves into danger. If David is with you, he will keep doing this estupida work instead of settling down and finding a stable job. Not that he was ever going to. I can't ask you to keep him safe. Just do your best to make sure he comes back alive, yes?" She took the pozole off the stove and set it on the table.
Rebecca met her eyes, and nodded firmly. "I will. Regardless of what David thinks about it." Mama Welles nodded, and then snapped her fingers at the sweater Rebecca was wearing.
"You don't have to wear that, but pants that cover your ass and a shirt that covers your tits whenever you're over for dinner, at least until you're in David's room. My home is not a nightclub, after all. Feel free to come half-naked but I will stuff you into the ugliest clothes I can fish out of a one-eddie sale bin." Reaching over, she patted Rebecca on the shoulder with a smile, then sat back down as David entered the door with a few bags of vegetables.
Glancing between the two, he raised a finger, then slowly lowered it. "Did…something happen I should know about?"
"Just chatting," Rebecca said quickly, only to realize Mama Welles had echoed her words. David began to look increasingly concerned as he put down the vegetables and got the bowls out, before wisely electing to focus on the food instead
"Jackie's out tonight, so it's just the three of us. I'll save the rest of the pozole for leftovers," Mama Welles said as she sat back. David nodded, and began serving. Spooning a heavy helping of the stew into the bowl, he then began reaching into the bags with tongs and putting in helpings of shredded cabbage, thinly sliced radishes, chopped avocados, cilantro, onions, and a couple wedges of lime. Handing it over, he started fixing his grandma's bowl, then his own.
As they began eating, Rebecca took a cautious spoonful, then a larger one. This was incredible. A bunch of different spices, big chunks of synthmeat, and a warmth that seemed to sink down her stomach and into her bones. Grinning, she kept eating. She was mostly focused on the food, but couldn't help snatching glances at David half-burying his face in the bowl. Reaching out one foot, she rested it against his leg and winked at him.
When she had finished devouring the pozole, she stood and went to put her bowl in the dishwasher. Mama Welles immediately shook her head. "Absolutely not, you're a guest. Go sit down and relax, David will do the dishes."
"'Course, Mama." Hopping up, David grabbed the empty bowls and brought them over to the dishwasher, then began carefully emptying the pot into a container. She headed into the living room and settled onto the couch. Mama Welles joined her, lowering herself into an armchair as she stretched.
"Going to head to the bar in a few minutes, just need to rest my bones first. Behave yourselves, eh?" The older woman sipped at a mug of coffee, then glanced at Rebecca over the rim. Speaking more softly, she shrugged. "I think you're better for him than that netrunner girl, for what it's worth. You don't hide things. Even when she smiled, that girl had a sadness deep in her eyes. I want my grandson to be happy." So Lucy hadn't sold her out after all.
Reaching up and burying her fingers in the collar of the sweater, Rebecca nodded slowly. "I can't promise anything, but I want him to be happy too."
"Good. If I thought you were lying I would have shot you," the old woman said calmly, and a startled laugh forced its way out of Becca's mouth.
"God, I wish you were my grandma. You fuckin' rock." Chuckling, Mama Welles waved a hand, and finished up her coffee. As David finished the dishes, she stood up and walked over. Hugging him, she leaned in and whispered something in his ear. David's face went scarlet, and he choked on his own spit as she strode past and out the door.
When she was gone, Rebecca tilted her head and leaned in a bit. "What'd she say?"
"...Protection might mean ballistic armor for this nina. Good luck." Her face split into a wide smile as David flopped down on the couch with a groan.
"Oh, I definitely like your grandma." Laughing, she flopped downwards, resting her head on his lap as she stretched out on the couch. One of the advantages of being small, no need to worry about legroom.
"So…wanna watch a vid or something?"
David blinked down at her. "Uh, sure. Want me to see what we've got?"
"Nah, I got one in mind. Was adapted from a book by my favorite author. I mean hell, I even got his name tattooed on my leg." She pulled up the pantleg to demonstrate. The fact she was flaunting her thigh in David's face was just a happy coincidence. He squinted, then blinked.
"Wait, that says… PK Dick? I thought—uh, that is, I only really…" With a cackle, she poked his nose.
"What, you thought I liked cock so much I got the word tattooed on my leg? Dirty mind there, David. I mean, I'm not saying I'm not a fan, but, nah. Old author, had a pretty good idea of what the future would turn out like. Philip K. Dick." At this, David suddenly nodded in recognition.
"Oh yeah. Guy who wrote We Can Remember It For You Wholesale. I found a copy in the academy library a few years back. Didn't get to read all of his stuff, but seems like he called Night City damn well. I could see something like that happening. Well, minus the aliens and functioning government."
"I'll lend ya my copies sometime if you want. Good stuff. Anyway, I have a copy of one of the films based on his stuff, called Blade Runner. Only one that was made, he died just before it was finished, and then, well. The Collapse happened." Glancing over at the TV, her eyes lit up gold as she synced the file.
Settling back down into his lap, she watched his face as the opening crawl began to filter up the screen to old, tinny music. She had seen the film probably 30 times by now, and it still got her. The disbelief in his eyes and slow lean forward as it opened onto a sprawling city caused her to grin in satisfied vindication as she settled in.
As Deckard crumpled the small piece of shiny paper in his hand and nodded, stepping into the elevator, David nearly flinched in shock. The door closed, and credits began to roll as a repetitive electronic beat filled the room. Sitting back, David had a massive grin on his face.
"Oh man. For an old film, that was preem! That speech at the end…" Shaking his head, he started to say something else, but yawned. "Sorry, wasn't bored, just…" Well, after sitting engrossed in the film, he was starting to finally feel the exhaustion again.
"Fair. We only got like 6 hours of sleep last night," Rebecca mused from his lap, and he nodded, fingers still running through her hair as he had started doing unconsciously at some point and decided it was too much fun to stop. "I should probably get home and sleep, I guess."
Go home… David looked down at her, the sweater bundled up just below her chin, and the wide red eyes looking up at him as the excitement from the film's ending started to ebb. His heartbeat skyrocketed to the point he could hear it, and he could barely think straight through the heat in his chest. In the stillness, he asked, "Do you want to go home?"
"Not really."
"Then c'mon." Turning off the TV, he got up, and together they walked up the stairs. Once again, the two of them removed their jackets and tossed them aside. He couldn't help but glance over, watching Rebecca's back flex as she slid the sweater off and placed it atop her jacket. Without a word, they turned and crawled into bed together. David curved around one side, and Rebecca wrapped herself around his chest, leaning in so her head rested just below his chin.
Placing his hands along her spine, David closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth radiating off her. Then, he felt a soft pair of lips press just against his jaw, and shivered slightly. "Night, David," came a whisper from next to his ear, and despite the heat he felt in response, it wasn't strong enough to overpower his sleep-deprived exhaustion...
Stepping quietly down the hall as she headed for her room, Mama Welles stopped at the doorway of David's room. Cracking it open a hair, she peered in and saw David sprawled out across the bed with Rebecca curled up under his arm. She was breathing softly, her fingers resting gently along his collarbone as she clung to him.
Smiling, she gently closed the door and headed for bed herself, humming an old song under her breath, one older than the City, its bricks, and even the corporations themselves that had laid them.
(A/N Editing by Golden_ , SPAG by somnolentSlumber )
(I got fucking hijacked by the David and Rebecca train today, jesus)
