Jesse McCree woke up and immediately regretted it.
Even worse was when he opened his eyes to see the sunlight mercifully blocked by a broad figure. Gabriel Reyes loomed over him like an angel of death. Only he had his hands on his hips, so maybe more like an angel of severe disappointment. Jesse would have opted for death at the moment.
"Are you still drunk?" Reyes thundered.
Jesse squinted. "I wish," he rasped. His throat was parched.
"That's good. Get up."
When he took too long contemplating the horror of the few hours before him, Jesse found himself dragged up into a sitting position. His stomach protested. "Huaugh," he said wholeheartedly.
Fortunately, he was still mostly dressed from last night, so all he had to do while Reyes glared at him was stand up and find his hat. He pressed one hand to the side of his head all the while, trying to hold it together, or maybe hold it on. Finally he found the thing buried in the sheets that had somehow made it on the floor. He gingerly put it on. That was all he got before Reyes started marching him downstairs.
Jesse stumbled out into the street behind his boss and felt a renewed hatred for the sun. His head throbbed, not concentrated anywhere in particular but determined to make him miserable from every angle. Once he had processed this latest awful development, he realized something was missing—the scolding. The grade A patented commanding officer chew-him-up-one-side-and-down-the-other rant, the one that had him steering clear of the chiefs. Reyes' silence was more ominous than his usual growling, if that was even possible.
"Op's over," Jesse blurted out defensively, as much as anyone could blurt something out when it took several seconds to work up his throat. It still sounded wheezy.
Reyes shot him a hard look and reached out one hand to stop him from tripping over the curb. "So you get blackout drunk?"
"Yeah."
"Not while you're part of Blackwatch," Reyes growled.
There was the growling. But he didn't go on, not even to point out that Jesse was underage. Instead, he said, "Let's get you something to drink."
"Hair of the dog that bit ya?" Jesse asked hopefully.
Reyes glowered.
"Kidding," Jesse grumbled. He took the opportunity to stick his tongue out when Reyes turned away to step inside a diner.
The diner was lit with cheery fluorescent lights, which now ranked right up there with the sun on Jesse's list of things that needed to leave him alone. Reyes sat down like a panther at a booth. Jesse landed somewhat less gracefully across from him. He slid down into a slouch and pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes to shield himself from the lights.
"Hats off inside, vaquero."
Jesse reluctantly dragged the hat down his face and onto the seat beside him. He didn't both appearing anything but cranky and hung over when a waitress appeared. "What'll it be?" she asked.
He did blink, though, when Reyes rattled off two breakfast orders and concluded with, "And a water. And two coffees."
The waitress took it all in with a veteran's calculating calm. "How d'you want those coffees?"
"Black," Reyes said, deadpan, like it wasn't a pun.
"Black," Jesse echoed, because hell if he was going to put milk in his coffee in front of Reyes.
Jesse waited for Reyes to say something, but he was left alone until the glass of water arrived and Reyes shoved it toward him. "Start drinking." And then Reyes continued to sit in silence while Jesse leaned on the table and sipped at the ice cold water. Jesse wasn't sure whether the hangover was worse or waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"Are you mad?" he asked doubtfully.
Reyes scowled. "Yes, I'm mad."
"Damn, okay," Jesse mumbled, and focused on finishing his glass of water.
The waitress reappeared as soon as he'd had the last sip. "You want a refill?" she asked.
"Nah," Jesse replied.
"Yes," Reyes corrected.
The waitress refilled his glass. Jesse didn't need instructions this time to start drinking again.
He was just starting to think that he was feeling a little better—not that he was planning to admit it—when the coffee and food showed up and his stomach rose up and reminded him it was still ticked at him. Reyes had ordered him toast and a plain scrambled egg, but just smelling it was enough to make him gag. "Uh," he said, and looked up at Reyes.
"At least drink the coffee," Reyes ordered. His tone was unyielding, but it didn't escape Jesse's notice that it was kind of a compromise.
The coffee was possible. Jesse eyed it for a moment. Looking at it wasn't making him queasier, so that was something. He picked it up and blew on it. And then he took a sip.
By the time he realized it was sludge, it was too late; it was already sliding down his throat, hot and bitter and gritty, and he was stuck dealing with the aftertaste and the knowledge that he'd just had a big gulp of caffeinated mud. His face screwed up.
"Drink it," Reyes insisted.
Jesse took another sip out of reflex, responding more to the commanding tone than anything, but that time it was even worse. "This is disgusting," he managed as soon as he'd swallowed.
Reyes just narrowed his eyes at him. Still watching him carefully, the Blackwatch commander picked up his own coffee and took a long sip. He closed his eyes. He put the mug back down with a careful click. When he opened his eyes again, it was to give Jesse a frown, brow furrowed.
"This coffee," Reyes declared gravely, "tastes like dirt."
Despite feeling like crap himself, Jesse snickered. He tried belatedly to cover it up, but then the weirdest thing of the whole morning happened—Reyes' scowl broke into a lopsided, triumphant smile.
"Are you feeling better, kid?" Reyes asked.
"I guess," Jesse admitted. His headache wasn't so terrible anymore, and he felt more like a living, functioning person in general.
"You still need to eat something."
"Ugh."
Reyes snorted softly. "You can forget the coffee," he allowed.
Jesse drew up a little straighter in the booth so he could throw off a salute. "Sir, yes, sir!"