[ because maybe she had a reason, or maybe this was all it was, that instinctive itch of theirs for a chat like the simple ones they had found themselves in whenever he stumbled into the bar. ]
[ the honest truth is that she doesn't have a reason for texting him to begin with.
it's late, she's awake, internal clock mostly at the mercy of the shifts she takes at the bar more often than not, and his had been the first name she had even considered while scrolling through the list on her device. and the reliability of his presence, even on a screen, calms her. ]
[ it hardly matters if she did or not; frank's never had a habit of sleeping well, typically dozing in spans of two hours or less before jolting awake either from the faint echo of a noise in the distance or the stirring discomfort of his dreams. even if he isn't on a prowl through the streets, he's not exactly getting a night's rest either.
he tries not to remind himself how he'd slept consistently through the night when he'd stayed in her bed, might have slept longer if it hadn't been for billy's call. ]
[ whereas on her end, she'll pass out for hours at a time if she has the opportunity, but sometimes it's the getting there that proves to be trickier, especially if she's been spending a lot of late nights at the bar. tonight is one of those in-between evenings where she'd just be starting last call, if she was there, but right now she's in her own ginormous bed and fighting to find a comfortable spot on the cool side of the pillow.
and she doesn't want to dwell on the fact that she always has an easier time sleeping when the bed isn't this empty. ]
If I've been talking to Rosie this whole time, then she's got you nailed.
[ he won't let his mind focus too much on the ease of his smile, the natural upwards tilt it finds when her voice carries through, her initial comment always a tease, predictable in its nature but always a new version in its delivery.
instead, he'll merely lean back against his headboard, eyes unfocused in the darkness. ]
Guess she's been hanging around her old man too much. [ His own voice carries that familiar low rasp, always more of a murmur than properly separated words. ] Hope it doesn't disappoint you to get the real thing.
[ good thing she's used to picking out the tenor of his words even through the tinny speakers of her device; others might have a tougher time discerning his speech, but she's heard it enough times to be able to decipher it like some kind of unique vocal handwriting.
she eases over onto her side, propping her head up on her arm once she's got the device situated on the pillow beside. ]
Well, if anyone would be qualified to deliver a perfect imitation. [ she laughs quietly, a soft huff of breath through her nose. ] Only if you promise to bring her around next chance you get. I've been missing that face.
[ funny how she doesn't specify whose face, specifically. ]
[ he hums in response to her laugh, something that would signal the sneak of a chuckle of his own, only it's more in the spread of his smile than something audible β he's repeated the pattern enough times in front of her that she might be bound to pick up on it even from the sound alone. ]
I'll make sure she has a special guest appearance next time around. [ rosie tends to be fond of visiting most anybody, even an assortment of strangers on the streets, but she still has her favorites. ] And your face has been pretty fresh on the mind, too.
[ and just like that, she's lulled, still nowhere near the possibility of sleep quite yet but settling into the ease of conversation that happens around this timeframe regardless, those identifying sounds clueing her into the fact that he's right there with her. ]
Good. I'd hate to think she's replaced me with a new fave already. [ and to think she's not even necessarily a dog person, but there's just something about this one, in particular, that's endeared her thoroughly. ]
I get it, though. She's got her adoring public, her fans. I just hope she remembers me from before she hit it big charming the whole city.
How do you think I feel? She replaced me the second you scooped her up. [ not necessarily an actual replacement, but frank isn't one to brag about the way rosie curls up against his chest on most nights, tiny claws locked into the fabric of his shirt to keep him from separating himself from her while she sleeps, if she can help it.
but there was no denying the dog did have a bit of an attachment to wynonna, familiar with the routes on the streets that take them to her apartment, barking just seconds before the elevator dings to signal that they've reached the 40th floor, as if she's memorized the patterns of her favorite visiting spot. ]
'Sides, you have a way of leaving a lasting impression.
And I bet you just feel like chopped liver over there with her snuggled up on you. [ because if she had to guess where rosie's planted herself, it'd be somewhere within the vicinity of a significant amount of body heat. she can hardly fault the puppy for having the right kind of instincts.
but if she's the occasional cause of redirecting frank back to her place time and time again, well, that just proves she's an even smarter dog than wynonna's given her credit for. ]
Yeah, it's pretty damn terrible. [ the grin is practically written in his words, especially because she's seen the visual before, even taken part of it once, back when they'd scooped the puppy up after her little ferocious battle with christmas decorations, nestling her between their bodies for a lasting period.
the reminder of a song sparks an actual laugh, a hum following as if debating. ]
Huh, guess it was, wasn't it? Yeah, yeah, alright. [ he mutters with the wave of a grumble as if the very request was a chore, though they both know he basks in it, that there's a secret layer to frank unveiled when he springs out a private melodic tune.
he's quiet for a time, save for a brief clearing of his throat, taking the time to consider the lyrics he might perform for her this time. the song comes faster to his mind than he likes to admit, something appropriate when he begins to sing, this time with the lack of accompanied strings and only his voice to lull her: ]
She'll let you in her house, if you come knockin' late at night. She'll let you in her mouth, if the words you say are right.
[ and he'll carry on, for as long as she seeks him to. ]
Oh, poor you. [ can you tell her words hold limited sympathy for you, frank, especially when you have the advantage of a tiny, fuzzy body cuddled up against you right now? she knows the soothing energy that can come on from a well-timed rosie snuggle. or had that been the aftermath of all the orgasms? difficult to tell.
there's still a small rush when he agrees to something like this, obliging her so readily, and she doesn't necessarily want to take it for granted but there's no clear way for her to signal her appreciation in this setting aside from one.
so she sighs, quietly, a barely-there exhale when he starts to sing, that low hum of a voice, and she won't stop him for as long as he's willing to go, until he forgets the rest of the lyrics or until she forgets herself and murmurs, a sign of relaxation. ] Next time, I'll let you take the guitar if you feel like you need a little back-up.
[ especially since he's got his own swanky digs now. but he might be able to discern a heaviness in her voice, the kind that only comes when she's starting to drift. ]
[ this isn't like the more focused performance of the boss back in the setting of the bar, guitar perched in his lap with the same audience of two, and maybe a slight intent on seeming fairly impressive. even if sleep doesn't tend to come easy to him, there's a tired air in his voice, the lyrics slipping out like languid poetry and he merely sings them as they come to his mind, forgetting precisely where it ends until the melody seems to run out.
but he can sense it matching in her own voice, that stubborn desire for rest. ]
You think I need back-up now? [ questioned with a false layer of being offended, instantly betrayed by the light rise of a chuckle. ] No, I, uh, I think I got all I need.
[ he doesn't say what that is, whether it's rosie or the simple use of his vocal chords, or ultimately, the lone audience that lends him her ear. but he does continue, a quiet promise. ] Next time, we'll go for another live performance. You could ... you could come borrow Rosie's spot for a night or two. If you wanted.
[ she knows enough to know the tune itself, those notes that she can follow even if the lyrics themselves aren't as familiar, but it's the comfort she ultimately seeks in the voice behind them that she's more reliant on, and so if the song drifts off toward something unfinished she's hardly the wiser.
she's murmuring from behind closed eyelids, too; it's not necessarily a detail he can pick up on, but maybe in light of the number of conversations they've shared before she's slipped into dreaming beside him he's more privy to what she sounds like when she's fighting sleep than most. ]
Suit yourself. It's still there at the bar if you want it.
[ the guitar, yes, but maybe something else that tends to reside within those four walls more often than not. she smiles, humming her assent. ] 'Long as she wouldn't mind giving it up. Or maybe there's enough space to share.
[ he'd be the better judge of that, but she won't be the heartless person who's forced that sweet animal out of her favorite cuddle spot; they can strike a compromise, if nothing else. ]
[ he catches on to the familiar beats that signify the beginnings of her doze, her tone quieter and slightly more slurred in a murmur more befitting himself in ordinary conversation. he won't draw attention to it; if she happens to drift off mid-sentence at any point, he won't be offended.
these days, he isn't hitting the streets at often for his previous purposes, not when the ordinary hunt that had started it all had come to an end with karen's return. he could use the guitar as a reason to continue his routine visits to the bar despite the change to his habits, but they'd both be able to catch that obvious lie. ]
I think we can both squeeze a little to make a little room for you. [ it isn't as large as her bed, but much more spacious than whatever they'd given him the first time. not that rosie crams it all too much to begin with. ] She tends to trap you though. Flops her little body on your chest β [ he chuckles lightly, a tired air in his own voice. ] Hope you don't mind camping out the whole night through.
[ because he certainly can't be straightforward about a sleepover invitation. ]
[ at this stage, the chances she might fall asleep mid-sentence are high; the chances it might be while she's mid-thought are even higher, but he's still got her for now, and if she does yawn she'll turn her head to try and stifle it further away from what the device's capabilities can pick up. (it definitely doesn't work.)
she can't say she'd complain much if she had less of a need to keep replenishing the gauze and bandages at the bar, but she might find herself missing the sudden lack of presence beyond that. besides, someone needs to help her drink all this coffee she keeps making. ]
I'll even let her be the big spoon if that sweetens the deal a little more. [ but the image his words conjure in her mind, a tiny bundle of fur cozied up across him, warms her more than she wants to let on. ] If we're talking overnights, you know what that means. [ a dramatic pause, and then: ] Pot of fresh coffee in the morning. [ yes, she'd make it. ]
[ maybe the soft hidden blossom of an invitation is inspired by those tired breaths, by the faint hint of a yawn that still finds its way through the receiver. there's little he could do from here, only using his voice to accompany her before her sleep. talking is never his strong suit, but he can't resist the thought of her body nestled up to his chest, cheek braced where his head beats steadily as rosie lays flopped upside down beneath the opposite arm, his fingertips dancing upon her shoulder in a soothing caress to lull her until eyes shut for the night.
he'll try not to imagine it, but it only makes the imagery more vivid as she makes a promise of the morning to come.
when he laughs, it's honest with a followed hum. ] If it's as good in the morning as it is at midnight, can't imagine a better way of waking up. [ because surely it's only the coffee that'll make it so. ]
[ the last time they'd fallen asleep in the same bed had been a peace sought out by tired limbs, both of them nursing their respective injuries and struggling to find a comfortable shared position that wouldn't aggravate any lingering soreness.
now, they've both healed enough where she'd be able to rest the weight of her head against his shoulder without worry of poking any fresh bruises, warmth rippling outward from the two bodies she's curved around, the sound of his voice over her head. she musters enough energy for a small chuckle. ] We still talking about the coffee?
[ of course he's not at all surprised at the direction her mind seems to go to; it isn't as if he's playing so innocent in this exchange either, already knowing the instincts they seem to pick up on whenever they're in each other's company. whether it's a joke or not, he might have doubts on whether it remains that way. ]
Why, you thinking of something else that hot and smooth to rouse me up in the morning?
[ he really has been spending too much time with her. ]
[ first of all: hey. second: can you blame her? third: she's in bed right now, and maybe she's switching the tracks here because she's already in a setting that lends itself to this brand of thought, to say nothing of the action that tends to go down when they're within arm's reach of one another.
she hides a smile he can't even see but the width of it is plainly audible in her voice, that tightness, the terribly feigned innocence. ] Well, you said you couldn't imagine better and I figured I could test that theory.
[ even half asleep, she can manage to twist the conversation in her favor, where she steers them along in the sorts of exchanges that spark him with amusement. if she could see him, she might have caught that instinctive eye roll, the kind that gets contradicted when he holds his smile on his lips. ]
Guess we can't really say until we put that theory to practice, huh?
[ a tease? a promise? more than likely a mix of both, because he knows the little restriction of their fingers and mouths when they're that close a distance. ]
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i paid you in full for that with a song
[ because that's the excuse he'll give for his serenades. ]
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[ and that guitar hasn't gone anywhere since the last time he touched it. someone needs to make sure it stays in tune. ]
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you want an encore?
on purpose?
[ it's been some time since he's been in the habit of playing in public, but even then, there were more shut up's than encouragement. ]
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[ he can play the same song for all she cares. okay, maybe he can pick a slightly different song from the springsteen oeuvre. ]
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[ because maybe she had a reason, or maybe this was all it was, that instinctive itch of theirs for a chat like the simple ones they had found themselves in whenever he stumbled into the bar. ]
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[ the honest truth is that she doesn't have a reason for texting him to begin with.
it's late, she's awake, internal clock mostly at the mercy of the shifts she takes at the bar more often than not, and his had been the first name she had even considered while scrolling through the list on her device. and the reliability of his presence, even on a screen, calms her. ]
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he tries not to remind himself how he'd slept consistently through the night when he'd stayed in her bed, might have slept longer if it hadn't been for billy's call. ]
alright pick up your phone earp
[ because she'll be getting that call. ]
text; β audio;
and she doesn't want to dwell on the fact that she always has an easier time sleeping when the bed isn't this empty. ]
If I've been talking to Rosie this whole time, then she's got you nailed.
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instead, he'll merely lean back against his headboard, eyes unfocused in the darkness. ]
Guess she's been hanging around her old man too much. [ His own voice carries that familiar low rasp, always more of a murmur than properly separated words. ] Hope it doesn't disappoint you to get the real thing.
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she eases over onto her side, propping her head up on her arm once she's got the device situated on the pillow beside. ]
Well, if anyone would be qualified to deliver a perfect imitation. [ she laughs quietly, a soft huff of breath through her nose. ] Only if you promise to bring her around next chance you get. I've been missing that face.
[ funny how she doesn't specify whose face, specifically. ]
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I'll make sure she has a special guest appearance next time around. [ rosie tends to be fond of visiting most anybody, even an assortment of strangers on the streets, but she still has her favorites. ] And your face has been pretty fresh on the mind, too.
[ with no specifications on which mind. ]
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Good. I'd hate to think she's replaced me with a new fave already. [ and to think she's not even necessarily a dog person, but there's just something about this one, in particular, that's endeared her thoroughly. ]
I get it, though. She's got her adoring public, her fans. I just hope she remembers me from before she hit it big charming the whole city.
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but there was no denying the dog did have a bit of an attachment to wynonna, familiar with the routes on the streets that take them to her apartment, barking just seconds before the elevator dings to signal that they've reached the 40th floor, as if she's memorized the patterns of her favorite visiting spot. ]
'Sides, you have a way of leaving a lasting impression.
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but if she's the occasional cause of redirecting frank back to her place time and time again, well, that just proves she's an even smarter dog than wynonna's given her credit for. ]
Now, I believe a repeat performance was promised.
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the reminder of a song sparks an actual laugh, a hum following as if debating. ]
Huh, guess it was, wasn't it? Yeah, yeah, alright. [ he mutters with the wave of a grumble as if the very request was a chore, though they both know he basks in it, that there's a secret layer to frank unveiled when he springs out a private melodic tune.
he's quiet for a time, save for a brief clearing of his throat, taking the time to consider the lyrics he might perform for her this time. the song comes faster to his mind than he likes to admit, something appropriate when he begins to sing, this time with the lack of accompanied strings and only his voice to lull her: ]
She'll let you in her house, if you come knockin' late at night. She'll let you in her mouth, if the words you say are right.
[ and he'll carry on, for as long as she seeks him to. ]
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there's still a small rush when he agrees to something like this, obliging her so readily, and she doesn't necessarily want to take it for granted but there's no clear way for her to signal her appreciation in this setting aside from one.
so she sighs, quietly, a barely-there exhale when he starts to sing, that low hum of a voice, and she won't stop him for as long as he's willing to go, until he forgets the rest of the lyrics or until she forgets herself and murmurs, a sign of relaxation. ] Next time, I'll let you take the guitar if you feel like you need a little back-up.
[ especially since he's got his own swanky digs now. but he might be able to discern a heaviness in her voice, the kind that only comes when she's starting to drift. ]
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but he can sense it matching in her own voice, that stubborn desire for rest. ]
You think I need back-up now? [ questioned with a false layer of being offended, instantly betrayed by the light rise of a chuckle. ] No, I, uh, I think I got all I need.
[ he doesn't say what that is, whether it's rosie or the simple use of his vocal chords, or ultimately, the lone audience that lends him her ear. but he does continue, a quiet promise. ] Next time, we'll go for another live performance. You could ... you could come borrow Rosie's spot for a night or two. If you wanted.
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she's murmuring from behind closed eyelids, too; it's not necessarily a detail he can pick up on, but maybe in light of the number of conversations they've shared before she's slipped into dreaming beside him he's more privy to what she sounds like when she's fighting sleep than most. ]
Suit yourself. It's still there at the bar if you want it.
[ the guitar, yes, but maybe something else that tends to reside within those four walls more often than not. she smiles, humming her assent. ] 'Long as she wouldn't mind giving it up. Or maybe there's enough space to share.
[ he'd be the better judge of that, but she won't be the heartless person who's forced that sweet animal out of her favorite cuddle spot; they can strike a compromise, if nothing else. ]
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these days, he isn't hitting the streets at often for his previous purposes, not when the ordinary hunt that had started it all had come to an end with karen's return. he could use the guitar as a reason to continue his routine visits to the bar despite the change to his habits, but they'd both be able to catch that obvious lie. ]
I think we can both squeeze a little to make a little room for you. [ it isn't as large as her bed, but much more spacious than whatever they'd given him the first time. not that rosie crams it all too much to begin with. ] She tends to trap you though. Flops her little body on your chest β [ he chuckles lightly, a tired air in his own voice. ] Hope you don't mind camping out the whole night through.
[ because he certainly can't be straightforward about a sleepover invitation. ]
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she can't say she'd complain much if she had less of a need to keep replenishing the gauze and bandages at the bar, but she might find herself missing the sudden lack of presence beyond that. besides, someone needs to help her drink all this coffee she keeps making. ]
I'll even let her be the big spoon if that sweetens the deal a little more. [ but the image his words conjure in her mind, a tiny bundle of fur cozied up across him, warms her more than she wants to let on. ] If we're talking overnights, you know what that means. [ a dramatic pause, and then: ] Pot of fresh coffee in the morning. [ yes, she'd make it. ]
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he'll try not to imagine it, but it only makes the imagery more vivid as she makes a promise of the morning to come.
when he laughs, it's honest with a followed hum. ] If it's as good in the morning as it is at midnight, can't imagine a better way of waking up. [ because surely it's only the coffee that'll make it so. ]
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now, they've both healed enough where she'd be able to rest the weight of her head against his shoulder without worry of poking any fresh bruises, warmth rippling outward from the two bodies she's curved around, the sound of his voice over her head. she musters enough energy for a small chuckle. ] We still talking about the coffee?
[ you know she had to go there. ]
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Why, you thinking of something else that hot and smooth to rouse me up in the morning?
[ he really has been spending too much time with her. ]
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she hides a smile he can't even see but the width of it is plainly audible in her voice, that tightness, the terribly feigned innocence. ] Well, you said you couldn't imagine better and I figured I could test that theory.
[ because she can imagine a hell of a lot. ]
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Guess we can't really say until we put that theory to practice, huh?
[ a tease? a promise? more than likely a mix of both, because he knows the little restriction of their fingers and mouths when they're that close a distance. ]
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