14. Hello/good morning/how you been/Yesterday left my head kicked in/I never/never thought that/I would fall like that/Never knew that I could hurt this bad/So this is the way I say I need you/This is the way that I say I love you/this is the way that I say I'm yours/This is the way/this is the way

He woke before her, the light from the living room window filtering through the curtains, shining on his eyes. He couldn't ignore the pain that was the day, instead resigning to the fact he would eventually have to open his eyes and face it. He heard someone rattle about in the kitchen and it startled him. He threw his legs over the sofa, sitting up with his head in his hands.

"Morning Bosco," Emily said cheerfully. She was standing at the foot of the sofa, a cup in hand, grinning at him. "Here. Coffee."

He took it, holding up his hand to thank her. "I thought it was probably best to let Mum sleep after last night. I don't think she'd appreciate it if I woke her…"

A grin was plastered on her young face, and Bosco took pity on Faith for a brief moment realising her teenage daughter would hold this over her for the rest of her life.

"Did you sleep ok?"

He grunted in response, the warm liquid soothing his dry throat.

"I slept like a log!" she announced. Was she always this cheery in the morning, or was it just especially for him when his head was throbbing?

"Good," he choked out, licking his lips that burned slightly from the hot coffee. She smiled brightly at him, her teeth gleaming in the light. God, he hated moody teenage girls.

"Well I'll catch ya later ok Bos?" she said swiping her backpack up off the floor. He gestured his hand out, stopping her.

"Whoa! Hold up there Skippy," he said. She stopped and rolled her eyes. "Where are you going first thing on a Sunday morning?"

"To Jenny's duh!" she said, sighing dramatically. "Mum told you remember?"

He vaguely remembered Faith informing him of some sort of visit and instead of questioning Emily further merely shrugged. "How much damage can you do on a Sunday anyways?"

She narrowed her eyes and pouted her young lips. "You'd be surprised," she muttered as she walked away from him. He grinned as he watched her leave. Alone again, he sighed grateful for the silence and the absence of a certain moody teen. What a fickle thing a young girls mind is. And as they get older it only gets worse…

Deciding to make a start to leave he pulled himself up and stretched. Faith wouldn't mind if he were to be gone when she got up. She'd probably appreciate the peace. He ran a hand over his tussled hair, and his rough face. Fatigue was still evident in his features, his once young persona making way for an older more tired one.

He turned for the kitchen, yawning as he placed the cup down on the draining board.

"Morning," a husky voice broke the silence. He turned around to face her. She leaned on the doorframe, her hair tangled and flowing over her shoulders, but she was now dressed in a pair of grey sweats and Mets jersey. He didn't bother to question her on when she did this. The light hit her face at such an angle that she shone, her eyes although sleepy, sat wide and innocent. He cursed himself for letting his breath hitch.

"Good morning," he replied, smiling, "How's the walking dead?"

"Oh you know, little builders have set up camp with their drills in my skull and insist on hammering while they drill," she joked, running a hand through her hair, "But other than that I'm just peachy."

"Well that's what Tequila will do to a girl," he said, grinning, "You were pretty hammered last night."

"I don't wanna know…I don't remember much but I know that whatever did happen should just stay buried…"

He laughed as she trudged over to the table and fell into a chair, cradling her head in her hands. "That bad?"

"Imagine the worst hangover you've ever had and treble it, then you're nearing my pain," she moaned, her arm extending across the table surface, while her head lay balanced on top.

"Painkillers?" he offered, heading to the shelf before she even answered. She grumbled something and he presumed it was a yes. He took them from their packet, poured her water and brought it to her, crouching down by her knees to catch her gaze. She took it, flashing him a grateful smile and guzzled the medication in one swoop. Looking down at him she smiled again, laughing feebly.

"Thank you for everything," she said quietly. He squeezed her knee.

"No problem, I know if I was drunk and wandering around delusional you'd take me in and put me down to bed," he teased winking at her.

"Damn straight," she agreed, smirking.

"So…how was last night?" he asked. She nodded, gulping down more water.

"What I remember was good," she replied, "Keith was surprisingly nice."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. He didn't even make me drink, I wanted to. He drove me home 'cause he was still sober, he walked me upstairs, we…" she stopped abruptly.

"You?"

"We said goodnight and that's it," she finished. He cocked his head to the side, trying to catch her gaze.

"You're lying to me," he stated.

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are. What else happened?" he questioned. Her gaze connected with his and she shrugged.

"We may have had a teeny kiss," she informed him in her most indifferent tone. He laughed out loud, and upon noting her glare, clasped his hand over his mouth to stop the sound. "What?"

"Wow…dirty," he teased, waggling an eyebrow. She looked hurt, pursing her lips and folding her arms like a spoilt child.

"Just 'cause I don't sleep with every person I date…" she muttered turning her head away from him. He laughed again. He couldn't help it. She was adorable when she was mad.

"Aww Faith…" he chuckled, genuinely charmed by her reluctance to tell him about her kiss.

"Shut up."

"But…"

"No. You're a jerk."

"Faith, don't be mad," he gently coaxed her, his hands in a begging position on her lap. "Come on. It's…cute. Boring. But cute."

Despite herself she felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "How do you know the word cute?" she asked, grinning.

"Huh?"

"Well the only terms of endearment you seem to know are hot, fine, hot ass, hot legs…never cute."

He shrugged, feeling a blush rise in his cheeks. "I guess I spent way to much time with your daughter last night….what else happened?"

"What?" she replied, confused.

"There's something else. Tell me."

"It's nothing really," she sighed, picking on the surface polish on the table, "He asked me to the ball…"

"Really…" Bosco said slowly. His heart sank and he wasn't sure why. "And what'd you say?"

"Uh…yeah. I said yes," she replied, meeting his gaze, but only briefly. He nodded, glancing sideways.

"Good for Faith, two down," he commented patting her knee as he stood up. Her eyes followed him as he crossed the room, heading for the sofa. He picked up his jacket and put it on, tugging at the sleeves and hem. "Well I have to get into work otherwise Christopher will have my ass."

"You're workin' today?" she questioned, watching as he gathered his things.

"Yeah. You may get Sundays off, but I don't," he replied, glancing towards her. She leaned on the back of the chair. Her head felt like it was about to fall off her shoulders, her arms felt shaky, and her legs felt like jelly. Overall she felt like crap.

"You ok?" she asked. He nodded and forced a smile.

"Fine. Yeah."

"Well…ok then…"

"I'll see you later."

"Hey Bosco!" she called out as he reached the door. "I…I have to go to this conference thing on Wednesday, just outside of town, and I needed a ride home…I hate to ask…."

"No. That's fine. I may as well your personal chauffeur as well as your babysitter right?" her joked. She frowned, his tone perplexing her. "Take it easy Faith."

And with that he left, closing the door quietly behind him.