CHAPTER THREE
It doesn't take him too long to finish up. Daniel must have gone out the back way, because when he checks the lights are off and the door is locked. That just leaves him the front. As he takes out the keys, Jonas stands expectantly by the front door, waiting for her to join. "You think you can make it home alright?" She'd been pretty fucking tipsy, as far as he could tell. Better to be safe than sorry.
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Alex had vaguely taken him up on the offer of getting his artist's contact info, but neither had gone through the trouble of actually swapping their own numbers, so it was mostly a goodwill gesture. She was feeling the drinks just enough to be useless for the last few minutes of close, perched up on the edge of a pool table. Once he's all done, Alex shoots him a grin. "Oh yeah. No problem." She's walked home this drunk before, probably. Definitely taken the bus, for sure.
Waving a hand at him dismissively, she hops down from the table, stumbling just a little bit, ignoring the way her cheeks go pink as she straightens up and walks to the door. "Seriously, I'll be okay. Not that I'd say no if you wanted to give me a tour of the rest of your ink," she smirks.
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Jonas can only roll his eyes at her. The buses are pretty far apart, he doesn't know how far away she lives, and she is definitely over tipsy. So instead of just leaving well enough alone - like he probably should - his better nature takes over when he opens the door for her on the way out before following just after. "No plans on that. But I am gonna walk you home, because it's five in the AM and I don't want some serial killer on your ass just because I decided to be a dick."
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Alex doesn't argue. Just kind of smiles - maybe smirks - nodding, untying her jacket from around her waist to slip it on. Now that she's not fresh off shift, her body has cooled down enough that it's actually kinda cool in the morning twilight. She pulls her tips and phone out of her back pockets, stuffing them, and her hands, in her jacket instead.
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The lock slides home with a soft click, and after checking over the door another three times (better safe than sorry) Jonas gestures for her to start walking. She's the one who knows the way home. Though in the meantime he sorts his tips, flicking through ones and fives as he makes his way through the stack— And then he comes across a bill with both a name and a number on it. In pencil, thankfully, but it bugs him enough to ask. "Your name Alex? 'Cause if it is, some unlucky punk left their number on a single for you."
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She's taking her time, focused on that essential skill of not seeming as drunk as she is, as she heads towards her apartment. Her roommate hasn't actually been in town for a couple weeks, and distantly Alex wonders if she should be worried. Last she heard Leah was doing some hippie volunteer bullshit somewhere, so it's probably a no-signal kinda thing.
At the mention of a number, Alex grins, pulling up a bit and stumbling into him in an attempt to read the faint markings on the bill. "Ooh, who's it from?" Faces are kind of a blur at the Island, and regulars changed for the summer (especially go-go night, which attracts a much more varied group).
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"How the fuck am I supposed to know that?" He's trying to get out of it. That excuse isn't going to work. So instead he sighs, shakes his head, and smooths out the crumpled bill. "Uh… Some girl named Jenny. Don't know her, don't plan on knowing her, but maybe that rings a bigger bell for you than it does for me."
Jonas holds out the bill to her. He'd said the drink was free, anyways, no need to fret over the loss of a dollar. So her name is Alex. Kind of fitting. Also probably not her full name, but that isn't really a requirement. Even if he is a stickler for being formal and wants to know it. Venturing guesses isn't hard, not like too many names can be shortened down to Alex. Alexandra, Alexandria, and that's about it. Alexis? No real reason to shorten that though. Hm.
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Squinting for a second, still walking forward on autopilot, Alex tries to recall anyone named Jenny. After a second, her eyes widen. "Holy shit, Jenny Jenny? Like… like hot cage girl Jenny?" Wow. She snatches the dollar back, blinking at it. Okay. Hot cage girl Jenny. Quickly, she glaces back to Jonas. "Don't worry, Hot Jonas, you're hotter." She pauses for a second, head cocked, considering. "Different kind of hot," she amends. "Sorry." Her smile is half-sheepish, but not enough to be convincing.
"I'm like another ten or so blocks." Her eyes skirt away, but her pace remains steady. It's a long ten blocks. "Sorry if I'm taking you out of your way." The walk is good for her, though. Even if she's hazy around the edges, it's keeping her awake.
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"Nah, you're not too far." Being called Hot Jonas is a little bit jarring, though he takes in stride as best he can, fiddling around with his lighter as they move. "We're actually passing by my usual second stop off of the day." Jonas nods his head toward a passing warehouse. Or, at least, what looks like a warehouse— before they look up toward the sign. Warehouse-turned-gym. His second job is boxing, or at least giving lessons on it, while getting some practice in himself. Old habits die hard, and one of his is fighting against whatever life throws at him, whether it be a punching bag or some stupid fuckwad trying to start a riot.
Though that's pretty far off. Seeing as he still needs sleep, he only teaches from around twelve until the gym closes, and then he heads off to work the bar most days. Which might change soon, depending on the traction they get in the next few weeks. Not great, but he can deal with it. Only time will tell.
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Alex takes the revelation in stride. "Makes sense. You're like… ripped." Her tongue is a little looser than it should be. Blame tequila. Her head tilts back and forth, admitting her potential wrongness, and the motion doesn't help her balance. "I mean, I guess I'm assuming. You have like… a really nice back." The glance she shoots at him doesn't even try to hide the passive want in her eyes, but it's just a second thought to her. First thought is getting back to her place at all. Then they can figure out if he'll be joining her. Though honestly, she's more tired than she usually is. Probably the extra hour out. That'd do it. 5am is usually her bedtime on Saturdays— well, Sundays, at this point.
"Again: not that I'm opposed to you proving me right." The grin is mostly to herself, eyes back down on her feet as she unconsciously starts avoiding cracks in the sidewalk.
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Jonas rolls his eyes, and then loops an arm around hers to keep her balanced. "I train people. It's not exactly a job that comes without physical exertion." Kind of poor wording. But hey, context is everything. "Especially not when you use most of your free time to keep up with your own routines."
He has a good few of them. Routines keep him in check, and keep him more organized than he would be if he wasn't paying attention. No work on Mondays, so that's grocery day. The rest of the week is a blur of both work, training, house chores, and whatever else he decides to get done in that span of time. Which usually isn't much. They've moved another few blocks over the course of the conversation, and he's half holding the pixie - Alex - up on her feet. As if that's a surprise. She'd probably been drinking most of the night, seeing as she can't really remember whoever 'Jenny' is and has gotten even more loose-lipped than she'd been before.
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"Routines…" Alex rolls the word around in her mouth - in her head - trying to interpret it. "What, like… Wait, no, okay, so like sparring patterns? That's— is that what sparring is?" She doesn't know the terminology. What she knows is that he probably didn't mean dance routines, which is where her mind went first.
Speaking of- "I bet you're a good dancer." The words are flowing freely now that all that alcohol has soaked straight into her bloodstream. "There's a Tuesday night thing at the community center on Perth. Not crowded like a club, but a fun mix. Generally mixed crowd, a lot of casually excellent salsa. Leans toward Latin, I think, but I've also heard 'em play all the hits from high school on occasion." She forgets to actually invite him, though she assumes she already did.
They're still a couple blocks away, but they've been making decent time. "The club's fun and all, but there's better variety on Perth," she murmurs. Shit. That third shot past 4am was probably a bad idea. The time is taking more of a toll on her than the alcohol at this point.
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Jonas snorts slightly at the prospect of both going to a dance and doing it in public. He hasn't had a public dance since— what, prom? Prom had sucked. He'd ended up ditching not even a third of the way through the night with his date, and they'd snuck into a neighbor's pool in order to actually make the night fun. And it had been, once he'd forgotten about prom. He should text that guy again. He'd been entertaining. Well… entertaining was one way to put it. "Boxing routines, sure. Coming up with training programs, all that."
The invitation isn't a terrible idea. He'd probably go because of her, if anything, but only because of her. He doubts he'd actually be doing any dancing. Just watching Alex would be enough. And wow, that is definitely the alcohol talking, because he's known this woman for a night. Just get her home and then get her out of his head. Simple. Easy. As long as she doesn't show up again and start trying to flirt with him.
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"Training. Right. A buncha muscle-y types that could snap me like a fuckin' twig. Love it." She's leaning on his arm a little more than she needs to, but she's decided to not hit a single crack in the pavement and it's taking most of her attention.
"Fuck, you guys always close at 5? We have last call at 3 and are gone by 4." She's not quite whining, but it's close. "It's so early." She groans. "I mean late. Or. Whatever." Turning her face into his shoulder, she moans. "Why is the sun already coming up. Why. How." Most of the words are lost in his sleeve as she trips over her feet again. "Shit, that last shot was such a mistake, holy fuck."
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He manages a thready kind of laugh, nodding to her words. "Night shift starts eight or nine and then we lock up at five. Usually Reggie comes in and lets me off at three, but he hasn't been making it the last few weeks, so I've toughed it out." Jonas pauses once they hit the ten block mark. Her apartment should be somewhere around here, based on earlier conversation.
When Alex stumbles, he's enough of a gentlemen to keep her upright, eventually getting tired of such hindered movement and just picking her up to throw over one shoulder. The gesture is lost on him, in all his humbleness; he's just helping someone home. That's what he says to himself, at least. He's helping someone home who's made a good few bad choices, and now they need to be set right. Kind of like himself, in a way, just not as completely drastic. "Alright, Alex. Where's your place?"
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Alex can't help practically snorting as he lifts her up over his shoulder. "Oh my god, you weren't kidding," she's bubbling over with laughter that's half delighted and half massively entertained. She squirms a bit in his hold, as much to challenge his grip as to glance around at their surroundings. "Big blue building. I can take it from there. Unless you're gonna haul me up to my apartment." She's smirking, fingers tracing the outline of both wings at once through his shirt. "Guardian angel," she snickers.
"Orrrr…" She squirms again, playing with the hem of his shirt. "You can show me the rest of your tattoos…" Alex is very tempted to lift his shirt and take another look, but she (just barely) stops herself. She's very tempted to do a lot of things with the advantage of her current position, but instead pushes herself up a bit, tilting her head toward him with a sing-songy whisper. "You can see mi-ine…" It's hardly trailed off before she's collapsed onto his back again, giggling. "Oh my god," she presses her face into his back, shaking with mirth. "I'm so sorry — but also not sorry at all, oh my god."
She should probably have a little more composure, but— "I mean: you're a hot tattooed boxer-slash-bartender. With wings." Fake wings, but wings nonetheless. "You must be rolling in the ladies." She considers the coloring on those wings. "Dudes? Rolling in the dudes, then." The complexity of sexual politics are too much for her to navigate at the moment. One hand waves dismissively, too drunk to stop now. "You should be named like— Brick, or- or Lance, or Slade. What kind of name is Jonas Long, anyway?" She scoffs at the ID she's glancing at, slipping his wallet back into his back pocket. It's not a good habit, lifting wallets. She doesn't do it often, honest. Not at all, really. Just occasionally tests her skills. And she's been causing plenty of distraction; it was easy to do.
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"Both, actually— Wait what?" Jonas is about to turn her around, ask how she knows his last name, when he feels his wallet go back into the pocket of his jeans. Okay. Good to know she's at least given it back after stealing his private property. Then again, she's drunk…
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"Me toooo," Alex grins, poking him in the side.
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What the hell is he doing? His free hand pinches at the bridge of his nose, and he walks her to the indicated building. "As for the name; my mom was Methodist. It's some biblical root, not entirely sure on meaning."
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Biblical. Her grin falters for a second, eyes narrowing. …No. Nope, she's drunk. That's not a thing. Those aren't real things. No such thing as angels, Alex, just Good Christian Boys. Good Christian Boys with wings. Who put up with her hot mess bullshit. And have the patience of a saint.
…No. That's… no. No?
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Of course it can't be a simple as dropping her off at her apartment. Alex's building has one of the weird key-code pad things, that he doesn't really understand, but he's not about to ask for the code. That would probably be a huge invasion of privacy. Jonas has known her for a night, and she's drunk, and trying to hook up with him. Good to know he's desirable, at least. Hasn't lost his touch. The fact makes him smirk just a bit - self-centered, sure, but it's funny to him - as he shifts his hold on her enough to push her off of his back when he turns around. Mostly to get her eyes on the keypad.
"You're the one that has the code for this thing. Punch it in."
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Alex is distracted from her slightly world-altering train of thought as he jostles her and she snorts a laugh. There is something immensely fun about this whole situation. Thrown over his shoulder like a continental soldier. She's laughing to herself now, too entertained. "Yeah, yeah, gimme a-" Her finger punches at the buttons, the red light going dark and a click coming from the door. "There ya go, angel." She pats his thigh, encouragingly. "We're a-ok. All clear." Her eyes are feeling awfully heavy, and she buries her face against him again. "Motherfucker I'm like—" She groans as she remembers. "Fuuuuck, and I have to get up at 11 to go brunching," the word is said with such absolute disgust. "Floor eight," she adds, in a mumble. "Eight-oh-eight."
She spends the elevator ride tapping little patterns on his back, distractedly, mostly trying not to fall asleep. He's big and warm and… well, comfy. And she's dead on her feet. Except not on her feet. Dead on his back? Alex laughs to herself a bit, back to tracing his wings again.
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After convincing her to give him the keys (half snagging them and half telling Alex it's for her own good), Jonas is more than ready to just go home. Even if he's toting her around like a duffle bag.
His eyes roll a bit at her antics, and Jonas pushes the door open with little effort, glancing around the apartment. It's nothing fancy, which is familiar to him, but it's also more than a bit of a mess.
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They're through the door and Alex bangs her hand on a wall as he starts heading toward her roommate's side. "Nope— this one."
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Jonas searches around for less than two minutes before finding her bed and near tossing her down onto it, rolling out his shoulders just after. "If you have to be up early, you should actually go to sleep. And I am going home."
Is he though? Is he really? Don't do it, Jonas, you know how this ends. Nothing good ever comes from just being a random dude who took care of one person that one time. But she's…
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Alex is practically giddy to be thrown down on the bed. Snickering. A bit slap-happy, drunk at 5am. She can't toe off her boots, but she makes a valiant effort before groaning and leaning over to actually pull them off. Her eyes are falling closed as she tosses them into a corner, shucking off her jacket, but she still whines to his retreating form, "Jonaaaas. Come cuddle." When she passes out, not even a minute later, she's still grinning.
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Okay she's an absolute mess. And when he checks, there's nothing in her fridge, and-
Nope. No. Not going to. Definitely not.
…
God damn it, yes he is.
Jonas pulls out his wadded-up tips, takes hers, and then exits the apartment, leaving a shoe wedged in the door so that he'll be able to get back in when the time comes. But as he pops his head back up, there's the numbers to the building taped to the back of her door. So he takes that too. He's getting groceries for a drunk girl. Completely and totally normal thing to do. Jesus Christ.
Notes:
I may have said, all the first three needed to go up together, so... ^^ Hope you enjoyed? Would love to hear people's thoughts. It may be a bit of a wait for chapter 4 but expect it some time soon. We just finished writing ch 24, if that gives you an idea of how things are going on our end. We'll see if we stay this productive, I suppose xD I will say, any time we're lagging, looking at comments on our other project really helps raise spirits (no pun intended). Would love to see some of that love over here as well?
Also very curious to see reactions to the playlists made for this fic (found through the AO3 posting or my tumblr if you search for things tagged Holy Spirits). We've been listening to them on repeat while writing, even if some of the songs may not make sense quite yet I assure you that they will!