Notes: Welcome to Oh God This Is So Domestic (+ a taste of the drama). This is an adorable chapter. ❤
CHAPTER NINE
Leo and Nicki are both ready to go, and after a quick explanation on both directions and other details, they're back in the car again. It's a unanimous choice to just drop him off at home, though he drags Alex out of the car with him, because she looks almost exhausted now. If he's being honest, it has him a bit worried. But it isn't his place to ask.
Jonas still had an arm wrapped around her in the car. It was only after bidding goodbye to her friends that he let go, climbing out with a quiet word of thanks to check over his phone. A few messages from Reggie, though they aren't anything to worry about - just thanking him for letting him have the bar for the night - and a mention from Daniel about his whole number crunching. It sours the soft smile on his face, but it's still there. "You know technically, I still owe you a drink. I have some mixing stuff inside. Wanna join?"
.
Alex's limbs are just the right amount of jelly. With all the dancing - and okay, yes, probably also because of the heels - her body is tired out, which is ideal. Only way she can sleep lately is to crash. There's still a little left in her, though, recharged with the brief conversation in the car, but it's tempered by his hand on her shoulder. Grounded. She's more than happy to be dragged out of the car with him, 'cause to be honest she'd rather have the support getting wherever she's going tonight than to walk alone to her apartment, dreading checking her phone. Company is preferred.
She shoots Nicki a goodbye wave, not missing the woman's wink in response, and huffs out a laugh before turning back to Jonas. "Definitely. This is me we're talking about. Alex 'I don't have a drinking problem, I promise' Strickland." Her smile is too tired to be a grin, but it's content and playful, and she quickly adds, "Joke, by the way. I barely even have alcohol at home, in case you didn't notice." And he could've noticed. A couple beers that weren't even chilled, an old bottle of Jack that was gathering dust. She mostly drinks when out with friends or at work. Then again, she does spend a lot of time doing both of those things. "But I could use one, I think."
She waits for him to get out his keys. No elevator in an old complex like this, but it's not nearly as tall as the tower she lives in. Still, she tugs his wrist for a second before starting up the stairs. "Wait up, heels-" Sitting on a stair she starts pulling them off, grimly realizing she left her flip flops somewhere in the community center in her daze as she left. They were cheap dollar store flip flops, but still. Now she's stuck either wearing heels or, as she intends to do, walking up barefoot. It's the loss of the bungee cord that's a real shame.
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Jonas is twirling his keys around his fingers, waiting for her at the top of the first set of stairs while she takes off her heels. Once everything's settled, he pads his way up the next four levels, having to jiggle his key in the lock a bit before it finally opens. He deliberately keeps his apartment sparse, in case he has to move quickly, but that doesn't mean he leaves it bare.
A beat-up, old leather couch takes up most of the main room, along with a small coffee table and some strewn-about throw pillows (gifts from friends, and his dad). Though as he hangs his keys on a hook and toes off his shoes, he moves from the living room to his small kitchen, starting to go through cabinets to find what he needs to make both drinks and a bit of food. Because he's hungry, and Alex probably needs something with actual nutritional value, based off of how he understands her usual meals to be. Exploring his apartment further would have to wait, for the time being.
"I'm not making you anything too strong. Mostly 'cause I probably don't have that? Eh, anyways." He's rooting through his cabinets, checking around bottles and whatever else he has stashed in the area. "Food or no food?"
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Alex steps into his apartment with maybe too much interest. It's smaller than her place - not by much, just a little more compact, and short one bedroom. She's exploring it before he even starts rummaging around the little kitchen. "I've told you before, I'm not picky." Grin and bear it for the sake of a buzz, if need be. "I trust you." He's a bartender, for Christ's sake, he knows how to read what people need. That's his job - their job. "Could definitely go for a snack, though. More than a drink, to be honest." She's feeling a little burned out of energy - in a good way, yes, but also a little hollow in the stomach area. Food would be very very good right now. And she sure as hell can't cook.
Weirdly, his apartment is pretty close to what she'd expected. If she'd expected anything. Simple, way cleaner than hers, without the excess of art and scented doodads that Leah seemed to stock their living area with. She's immediately curious about his bedroom. What makes it up on his walls? What about family photos? Is he a person who makes his bed, or just lets it stay a mess? She bets his bathroom is weirdly clean for a dude, too. He seems the type to have that discipline that she so obviously lacks.
Tossing her heels on his couch, Alex starts to wander, heading for the little hall with the three doors. One would be bathroom, one the bedroom, one (probably the shutters toward the end) a closet. Pretty simple layout. Theirs was similar, just with two halls and only one bathroom. And no balcony. His is small, but it's there. Probably a place to smoke, mostly.
.
Trusting him was going to be a mistake. Or at least, that's how Jonas would feel about it. Instead he just rolls his eyes, forgoing the alcohol and pulling out a pan and some olive oil to start sauteing onions and tomatoes. Of course he has to cut them first, but he can at least get the stove going beforehand. Alex isn't exactly refined company, which means he isn't trying his absolute hardest, but this is a meal most people appreciate: tacos.
"Don't go rooting through my room! Everything else is fair game." He only leaves the stove for a few seconds to lean around the wall and call out to her. There isn't exactly anything he has to hide. "And in case you're wondering; no, there's nothing too illegal in here."
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Well, she isn't going to be rooting through anything. Just glancing. She goes for the first door on the left — bathroom, okay. Pretty clean, too. Glancing back to Jonas, seeing him in the midst of chopping honest to God vegetables (hallelujah, this is gonna be like restaurant food with multiple food groups in one, so score), she takes a step in. Might as well. And after washing her hands, she hooks her finger under the mirror to snoop through his medicine cabinet.
She's nosy. And he didn't say it was off-limits. Though, upon inspection, it's kinda boring. No mystery pill bottles, no li'l baggies, just bog-standard bathroom gear. Still, she goes snooping around anyway. Sniffs his body wash 'cause— yeah, kinda weird Alex, but also he smells good? And she kinda wants to smell it more? Plus, he can't see her being weird. Though she's betting he has his suspicions.
Satisfied that she has seen all she can there, Alex steps back into the hall, poking her nose into the room across the hall. Not more than just her nose, just enough to take a look. It's too dark to see much, anyway, though the light from the hall shows the silhouette of a bed that's nicely made (disgusting, she grins to herself), dark sheets, and not her personal standard amount of clothes littering the floor.
While she's careful not to overstep her bounds when it comes to entering forbidden areas - at least in this case - her personal boundaries are a little less strict as she walks back into the living room. "Think I can steal a shower, Jojo? I think I've got like five people's sweat all over me. Could use a freshen up. Unless you're eager for me to get that sweat all over your furniture, in which case — okay, good to know; weird kink, but I'm not one to judge."
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"As long as you don't randomly pop out and scare the shit out of me? Go ahead. If you need to steal clothes, check the top left drawer of the dresser." Kind of odd that he's offering, but he really doesn't want random strangers' sweat on his couch. That, and like he'd said before; he doesn't have anything to hide.
Jonas finishes up on the veggies, sliding them into the pan and stirring for a few minutes before going looking for ground beef. A bit harder to find, but he has some hidden away near the back of his freezer. Looks like that'll need a minute. In the meantime he starts putting tortillas in the microwave just to heat them up faster, and for the sake of having something to munch on while he finishes the rest of the meal. He's been more than guilty of eating some ingredients in the middle of making things, both in his younger years and well up to the present. Pull out the lettuce, rinse it off, chop. Repeat with cloves of garlic and another tomato, because Jonas underestimated how much he'd need. Another fault of his.
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She grins at the offer — yes please, she is a notorious clothing swapper, and even better if the clothes she leaves behind can't be stolen in return, 'cause she'll just add to her wardrobe. Unless he wants to wear her crop top. The idea of which is enough to make her snicker as she empties her pockets onto the kitchen counter. "Thanks, angel," she tilts her head, shooting him a slightly cocky I told you so look. Because, seriously? Can't deny an angel reputation when he's doing stuff like this.
Popping through that second door, she tries not to snoop as she flicks on the light and goes to the dresser. Still, she glances over the room. It's still pretty sparsely decorated, though there are a few framed pictures around. A three-person family, with a much younger and then teenaged Jonas. D'aww, cute kid. Got a little rougher in the teen years, though. There's an extra photo of the woman from the family by his bedside table - alongside an ashtray and cigarettes that she's pretty sure would be so illegal in her own apartment - and Alex resists the urge to pick it up. Jonas's mom. There's something she should remember — right. Religious. My mom was Methodist. So, was, past-tense.
The microwave beeping in the other room reminds her of her task and she grabs for the top drawer. His pj pants would practically swallow her, so Alex has to search around a bit for something that she won't trip on. Boxer shorts. Heh. For once, the memory of Michael doesn't kill her like it usually would. Hand-me-down boxers and gym shorts were go-tos for sleeping as a kid. The drawer has plenty of plain white t-shirts, so she grabs one of those as well, before heading back to the bathroom.
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He can hear Alex rooting around, but he's finding that he doesn't mind all too much. It's just her way of doing things. That, and he's fairly sure she's still got a bet going over the whole 'good Christian boy' thing, which means he's probably living up to the cliché. Apart from the smoking and the tattoos. Definitely sinning when he got a few of those.
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Alex is an expert at showering quick. Mostly because she was constantly running late all throughout college and it was a necessity some mornings. She uses whatever's already in the shower, making do - as per usual - and emerges in approximately eight-and-a-half minutes, wrapped in a towel and searching for a hair dryer.
Right. Yeah. He's got short hair. ...Looks like that's a no-go.
So, a few minutes later she emerges from the bathroom, still attempting to towel dry hair that is quickly leaving little splotches of water scattered about her shirt - well, his shirt. She stole some lotion and q-tips in an attempt to clean off the makeup that wouldn't quite scrub off in the shower, but there's still a little clinging to her lash line that she'll get when she gets home. Overall, she looks… comfortable. Even if she should probably be a little paranoid over not having extra undergarments. But she's a big girl, she's been through worse than attempting to hide modestly under men's clothes.
It's so weirdly domestic that she has to grin. "I feel like I'm in college all over again. Morning after some bender when we all crashed in one dorm, stealing clothes and showers and food." It's nice.
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He'd been in the middle of breaking up the now somewhat-defrosted meat in the pan, scraping up fond as he goes along to get a better flavor as it cooks. Two plates are up on the counter next to a bag of shredded cheese, the chopped lettuce, sour cream, and other condiments that he figured Alex might want to use. Jonas himself usually keeps his pretty plain, but whenever guests come over they have different tastes, meaning he isn't going to just stock up on what he needs.
Alex's phone is plugged in on the coffee table, still starting up, from when he'd done a quick check-over of the apartment. There hadn't been much to check over, really, though now it's filled with the sizzle of oil in the pan, the smell of garlic; it's oddly homey. Even if Jonas would rather just be in sweatpants right now. But he's not, because he's still cooking, and that might not be such a good idea. Even if it wouldn't be the first time.
"You and I had a very different college experience, then." So many mistakes were made in college. So fucking many.
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Alex is watching her hands, as she heads toward the kitchen, trying to comb through her hair with her fingers - and it's actually not too bad, but it's a bit of a chore. "College was great. Except when it wasn't. Dropped out for a semester and never heard the end of it." Not strictly true. "Well, I guess I did. Once my dad just… stopped talking to me altogether. Stopped paying tuition, too— hence the loan debt." Couldn't pay her tuition and the new kid's. New family got priority over her. Whatever. It wasn't as bad as it could've been, her mom contributed so she didn't have to take out quite so much, but she's still making payments.
A familiar buzz pattern sounds from the coffee table, and Alex glances over. Oh yeah. Her phone. He'd plugged it in— 'cause he's an angel. Right.
She's not ready to look. Instead, she turns toward the kitchen, looking to Jonas's back with a bright smile. "What about you? Some kind of military school or something? I think that's the cleanest room I've seen since living at home."
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Jonas makes an almost disgruntled noise at the mention of his college experience, sucking in a breath through his teeth. Not something he expected to be diving into right out of the gate, but hey. Alex would figure it out at some point. "No. Community college, but… Some stuff from my past caught up to me, is all. Still got through it." With more than a few flubs and more than a few failures. But he'd gotten through it. Even with the delay, and the debts, and everything else that came with such a short 'proper education.' Sometimes he wanted to kill the system. Other times, the system wanted to kill him.
When he turns around, still browning meat but starting to put together his own meal, Jonas pauses at the sight of her.
This was a mistake. Letting her borrow clothing was a mistake. Wet hair and a white shirt was already bad enough, but— Yup, okay, just going back to the meat now, ignoring that. Completely and utterly. Ignoring. Fuck.
.
Stuff from his past… "You keep alluding to this mysterious past in a vaguely menacing way," Alex muses, padding up alongside him to look over his shoulder at the meal. "It's weird 'cause you seem kinda… kinda goodie-goodie?" Her smile is teasing as she elbows him in the ribs. "I mean, smoking and drinking, sure, but who hasn't done some of that?"
She reaches past him to carefully pinch a tiny piece of ground meat from the skillet, popping it into her hand and then hissing 'cause - hot - hot - okay, less hot - okay, good - before sticking the meat and her burned fingers into her mouth. Eyebrows raise as she hums her approval. "Mm. Good stuff, angel, well done." She claps him on the shoulder, leaving her hand there a second to help assist her up on her tip toes to check down the rest of the counter. "And all the fixin's."
There's another buzz from the table. Again, she pretends it doesn't exist.
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For a minute, Jonas isn't quite sure if it's the heat coming off of the pan or if it's how close she is to him, but his face is definitely a bit red— Until she snags a bit of meat. "Hey- Hey! It's not ready yet, I don't even have the rest of the spices on it." If he were more like his mother, she would've earned a smack to the hand with his cooking utensil. But he's not like his mother.
He's trying to pointedly ignore the rest of the conversation. His past, his record, his mother, his fights; all of it. Sure, it's going to come up sooner or later (like it does with everyone) and she'll probably think badly of him (like everyone), but he can try to avoid it for a little bit longer. His dad wouldn't have stood for it. Be open, be honest, be the best person you can even if it's not that great at the moment. Yeah. Whatever. Instead of elaborating on the fact that he was in custody, Jonas just keeps his eyes pointedly on the pan, muttering his next words. "Goodie-goodie now. Still have a record."
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"Ooh, I get spices and everything, how deluxe." Alex snorts at his half-assed chiding, still soothing singed fingers, and then hops up to sit on the counter beside the stove, dropping the towel onto the floor and twirling her wet hair into a coil, letting the water drip onto her bare legs. "Ah, so a bad boy with a heart of gold," she teases, grinning. "All hot tattoos and brooding silence and then bam you're being fed and hoisted and given clean clothes when you sweat through your old ones gettin' nasty on the dance floor."
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His eyes roll a bit at both her name calling and the general jab at his food, but hey. If he's going to make something, he's at least going to make it good. Which means he needs to actually find the spices. Jonas tips his head back enough to look through the cabinet above his head, pulling out salt and pepper before going back to the meat. "Says the one who also has tattoos, also tends to brood - though in a very different way than I do - and who also needs to be careful, because the grease pops and it might get on your leg."
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"I do not brood!" Alex's mouth opens with a click of amused offense, swatting at him with a foot.
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"I never- Ow!" Jonas is laughing despite the blow, and he just nudges her back with the elbow of the arm still holding the handle of the pan, scoffing at her. Because of course she would do this, the little shit. Then again, he'd kind of asked for it. He kind of asked for a lot of things.
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"I am a ray of fucking sunshine, thankyouverymuch." Her eyes roll at his warning, pulling one leg up onto the counter while the other swings against the cabinets. "If you're so concerned, make sure I don't get burned. Isn't that part of your job, angel?" She leans back on her palms, hair flipped to the opposite side than the stove itself, pushed over her shoulder so it doesn't hang back over the counter, soaking into her shirt instead. "Guardian-ing?"
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"If you wanna start getting your stuff ready, I should be done in a minute here. And no, guardian-ing isn't directly in the job description for us, though they do warn you it could become a secondary responsibility should the wicked not be properly punished and a soul ends up burdened with more pain than thusly stated." He's talking halfway out his ass, and halfway from stories his mom used to tell him.
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Alex's eyes narrow, despite the slightly bemused grin on her face. 'Cause that sounds… so legit. So casually legit. She shakes her head, dismissing the idea because she's pretty sure she never believed it to begin with (except that, seriously, that was too smooth, way too smooth — like, that wasn't reached for at all). It takes a half second for her wit to catch up. "So you're here to punish me?" Her grin shifts to a smirk, cocking her head. "For all my shockingly wicked ways?" She brushes her foot against his leg again, raising a brow. "I think you'll be pretty disappointed, Jojo."
.
"No; you're the burdened soul." He has no idea how he's being so casual about this because she's right there, and that fabric isn't going to be white forever, and she's wearing his clothes which is just— a bag of worms he isn't even ready to get into— So basically Jonas is fucked. Then again, he did this to himself.
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She has to snicker at that, rolling her eyes, "Spoilsport." He isn't even reacting to being called Jojo anymore, and it had been such a good reaction before. Alex must have overused it. Damn it. Oh well.
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Once he's found the rest of the spices and stirred them into the beef (it takes longer than he'd like, but it gets there), Jonas flicks off the stove and moves the pan over to a clean burner. "The wicked being that caused your fall is currently unknown. But I'm sure they're being dealt with."
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Her head lolls back and forth to an inaudible song in her head as he cooks, and she leans over and grabs for another pinch of meat from the pan once it's seasoned, the tips of her hair flicking just a drop of water into the pan with a brief hiss and spit that is kind of delightful. "Sorry," she laughs, sucking the seasoning off of her thumb. "Good work, though. Hell of a lot better than anything I make."
And she's hungry now, too. Fingers wipe against her legs 'cause she's at least trying not to get his clothes dirty, and then she holds out her arms imperiously. "Gimme a lift, angel. If I hop down and sprain my ankles you'll be stuck hoisting me, and we all know you don't wanna do that."
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For a few seconds, Jonas just stares at her, visibly unamused with the whole thing. Even if it's an act. Though he can't keep that act going for much longer before he's smiling again, even if there is a rueful annoyance as he picks Alex up. He doesn't throw her over his shoulder or anything, instead looping one arm under her knees and supporting her back with the other in order to drop her off on the kitchen floor just after. "You are such a kid."
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There's a tiny delighted squeak from Alex as he lifts her off the counter, and the ride is far too short, but whatever. She's practically glowing, shooting a grin over her shoulder as she turns to start prepping a plate. "Oh please - you're like two years older than me." She saw his ID. Jonas Long. 1992. "Not even. Like a year and half." Her plate is loaded with about everything she can fit on it - she takes nutrition when it's offered - in record time. "Just because I take a little more joy in the day-to-day than you do doesn't make me a child. The rest of the world just hates fun." She punctuates her argument with a bite of taco, not even bothering to leave the kitchen.
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"Or maybe you're the one who thinks it's boring, and everyone else has gotten used to it." He offers up a shrug, making his own plate and going to settle on the other side of the kitchen, watching Alex as he leans against the counter and quietly starts to eat. She'd been right about one thing; it feels more domestic than it should. A moment between two people in the same space, at the same time, just sharing food and talking. Jonas hasn't had that in a long, long time. Something he's become painfully aware of in the past few hours. He hasn't really had a good, human connection in… God, he doesn't even know.
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Alex watches him for a second, her grin quieting to something smaller and softer and a little pitying. "That's really, really sad." Her words hang in the air a second before she turns her attention to the food. It's good. Really good, 'cause he's actually a good cook - which is just another unfair fact about Mr. Jonas, Pure and Chaste. The room lapses into a contented quiet as they eat, at least for a moment, before Alex becomes aware of a familiar pattern of buzzing. Her eyes glance toward the living room, but then she turns back to her meal.
She'd actually forgotten for a second. The lurking dread surrounding that little devil.
The first taco went way too quick, and Alex pauses for a drink of water, casting a side-eyed glace to Jonas. "Do you really think I'm childish?"
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Jonas returns the gesture. "Yes, you're a baby to me— No, I don't think you're that much of a kid. It's like you said, you're only a little younger than me. You work a job, you pay your own rent, you do what I do." Even if what he did was sometimes a little bit out of his hands. He offers up a shrug. "Though it is kinda sad to think people lose their wonder for the world over time. Or at least, people without the money to see its wonders do. Blue collar folks don't exactly get much leeway."
He glances over the bar counter, over toward where he'd plugged in Alex's phone, raising an eyebrow when she doesn't move to get it. Then again, it isn't his place to ask questions. Maybe she's just enjoying their conversation? Maybe.
.
Alex nods along to his assessment. It's vaguely reassuring to have her… her adult skills, for lack of a better term, listed like that. To hear someone else validate it. "Rent, utilities, loan payments, taxes — groceries, most of the time," the looks she shoots him is a little more tired, though there's still some cheeky humor to it. Moreso after his observation of the world. "Yeah, it's a shame when a guy can't even get out and dance every once in a while, 'cause he's too scared of looking like an idiot," she teases with a smirk, loading another little pile of meat bits onto her plate to pick at. "And me out here, simply enjoying life to the fullest, I suppose." Her phone is going off again, and she barely lets her eyes glance at it before pulling them back to Jonas. Living life to the fullest. Or just keeping her head above water. Whatever works.
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Jonas listens to the phone ring once, twice, three times— and she still hasn't answered it. Probably a thing to be more concerned about than he is, but maybe she's just trying to be a good guest? It doesn't… it doesn't seem like Alex, though. More like she's avoiding something. When it pings out for the fourth time, he sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face as he crosses to go wash his plate. "Look, if you're trying to be like, polite or something? I get it. But you can check your phone if you need to. Sounds like someone is really blowing it up. Just take a second to yourself, I won't mind."
He punctuates it with a smile. Not those small, vaguely contented ones, a real smile. Even if it's soft and feels just a bit out of place in the moment.
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Ugh. He's so nice. Why is he so nice to her? "...Yeah." Alex tries to sound relaxed, blase about the whole thing. "No, you're right. Thanks." Why does the prospect of checking her phone fill her whole body with a leaden dread? What's the worst that can happen? Ren and Nona break up?
No. They stay together. They move on.
It's like some twisted version of butterflies in her stomach, something that's making every limb feel too jittery and too heavy all at once. But she'll have to look eventually. Can't ignore it forever.
Alex tries to act casual, cheery, as she makes her way over to her phone. Her hand hesitates, but she pushes through it, unplugging and—
The screen lights up with the missed calls from Ren. Scrolling down there's a notification of an image attachment. She already knows what it must be a picture of when the next notification under it just reads: SHE SAID YES!
All of a sudden she feels the blood pounding through her head, her ears ringing enough to drown out any other sound in the room.
Time stands still. Her stomach drops.
She shouldn't feel this way. She should be happy for them, happy that they've finally decided to tie the knot after she's teased them about it for so long. Why isn't she happy? Why does it feel like a black hole has yawned open five feet behind her, and she's being dragged into it?
For a second, she's simply frozen.
Her head is a mess; fear and guilt and panic and shame and all of it jumbled up and winding and winding and winding a spring in her that is telling her to go, to move, to get out of her head somehow.
Alex's heart goes from sluggish and slow, to a steadily pounding beat, to hummingbird fast - a patter in her chest that urges go, go, go. Where, she doesn't know - to do what, she doesn't know. She just can't think right now. This is a crisis, and she deals with crises the only way she knows how: losing herself.
Her first step away is halting, because her mind is frantically going a million directions all at once. She's still basically fresh out of the shower, not dressed to run out to a club or a bar and drink. And she wants to run. But she can't exactly leave this apartment.
She can, however, lose herself another way.
It's not alcohol, but it'll get her mind on something else. Someone else. Feeling something other than the hopeless loneliness that threatens to overwhelm her.
"Jonas-" Her voice is half-broken and distant, needy, and as soon as she's back in his line of sight she just stops caring 'cause now is not a time to care.
If she cares, she'll realize that she's fucking everything up for herself — but that's what she does. Ruins everything. Utterly incapable. Nothing ever goes right, 'cause she won't let it. He's too nice to her, too good for her, and she needs to burn that bridge now 'cause it won't hold later.
The look in her eyes is glassy - desperate and detached - as she walks up to him with too much purpose, digs her grip into his collar, yanking him down to her and hesitating not even a fraction of a second before crashing her lips against his, body arching up to press wet cotton against him, eyes falling shut and unable to stop the tiny, almost panicked moan squeezed up through her throat.
It was good while it lasted. Time to burn it down. One glorious immolation of what could've been an actual friendship. Someone who could actually care about her.
Nope. Blind sex. That's what she needs right now. Blind sex and then never talking to him again after tonight. It wouldn't have lasted anyway. She's just showing her true colors now before he can figure it out for himself.
Notes: And now welcome to Alex Has A Quarter Life Crisis. :3