graveflowers | i'm fine, the female code for i want to punch you in the dick

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roleplay } with jake

i'm fine, the female code for i want to punch you in the dick

"Jake, you can't just spend the rest of your life in this cabin like the freakin' Unabomber." It wasn't the best argument, really, but she needed to go to the store and he needed to come with her. It was a dress for his family's Christmas party and since Vi's idea of a formal dress was more along the lines of a sundress, she really did need his opinion on the matter.

Of course, Jake's reply was so grumbled and quiet that she couldn't hear him very well through the wall separating their rooms, even with both their doors open. She thought she heard something about how she would be beautiful no matter what she wore, but she mostly ignored that, putting the compliment aside to thank him for later.

"Look," she started, padding barefoot into his room as she pulled her tee shirt over her head, slicking her ponytail back. It was Jake's shirt, actually, an old Army shirt she'd found when she was doing laundry and just taken for herself. It was big on her, he was after all, roughly the size of Gaston -- who was roughly the size of a barge -- and she was the size of an elf, but she tucked it in to her jeans and still managed to look adorable. "It's just one hour and, I dunno, I'll buy you some beer on the way home." Because it was home now, even if she was protesting his holing up in it. "Consider it therapy."

Jake frowned at her, looking not at all pleased with her idea of therapy.

"No, seriously. You've spent the last three months with just me, you're used to me and I'm used to you and we have a system, but its our system. You've got to learn how to navigate people who don't give a shit about your injuries and how to move amongst a crowd or what are you going to do next weekend?"

"Violet, I'm going to be on the couch the whole time."

Her hands went to her hips as her eyes narrowed slightly -- she really wasn't fond of when he used her full name. She knew he wasn't having the best day and she knew pushing him for this could just devolve into a fight, but it was true. He needed to get out of the house. Not even for the interaction, because she highly doubted he would actually talk to anyone, but because he needed to be able to navigate around people. And more importantly, he needed to feel comfortable doing it before he went home to his family. If a stranger saw him stumble, it would be far less embarrassing than if his family saw him stumble. "Jacob, I'm not kidding."

"Violet, I'm not going."

There was silence for a moment, Vi's lips twisting in displeasure. It wasn't a scowl so much as a disappointed frown. "Fine. Then I'm not going to Christmas. Have fun."

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"Hey, I didn't mean that," he responded, shifting so that he could pull her back against him. If she fought him, he'd let her scoot away, but otherwise he was going to bundle her up against him.

"I'm sorry. I should have--it sucks. Life in general. Not now. I hope now is better for you. It is for me, but in general, the past sucks. A lot."

Violet sighed heavily, but she did let Jake pull her back in. She would admit that she needed the closeness he so easily provided.

"Now is better." She sighed again. The smart thing would be to just get all their issues on the table all at once, so they would know what they were dealing with and then slowly start to deal with them, but it was hard, coming out and admitting things you would happily pretend never happened.

"Sorry, I... that was rude, before."

It would be the smartest thing, but it was also the most uncomfortable thing so naturally they avoided it like good little people in denial.

"No, it's fine. I got pretty pissed at my shrink for suggesting that." But he hated himself. He really hoped Violet didn't hate herself that way. "In spite of how much your childhood sucked, you turned out pretty amazing and I remain, a giant asshole. At least I'm self aware."

Violet had ten years to accept the worst parts of her childhood, ten years to start liking herself again. Jake was just a whole lot farther down the ladder than she was.

"You are not an asshole." She wasn't even going to thank him for complimenting her, she was simply going to stick with that.

Eventually, he'd get there. He just needed some time and some patience. Violet was fantastic with providing both of them.

"So I keep hearing." Maybe one of these days he'd believe it.

"No, listen to me." Normally, with that bossy tone of voice and that listen mister edge to it, Violet would have sat up so he could get the full force of her grumpy expression. Instead, she stayed curled up next to him, eyes closed so she wouldn't have to look at him. She tried not to look at him with pity, she didn't want to look at it herself.

"I'm serious. You're not an asshole. You're sad and hurt and you hate yourself, but you are not an asshole. Assholes are people who drink so much they forget their family's name. Asshole are people who, who let their friends..." She paused for a moment, swallowing. "People who let their friends rape their teenage daughter to pay off a gambling debt. You are so far from an asshole, Jake. Why can't you believe that?"

Edited 2012-12-21 06:28 (UTC)

Jake was stunned into silence for a moment and then filled with absolute rage that had no where to go. He went very stiff beside her, but his need to protect her and comfort her over riding his need to beat the ever living shit out of her father.

"Vi...that's not an asshole. That's a monster." The words sound strained, measured, but also soft. "That--" he stopped. She didn't need him to tell her that that wasn't okay. "You know you didn't have anything to do with that, right? I mean that was all him and his--" he stopped, unable to come up with words expressive enough. "I still think you're pretty amazing."

"I know. I did take me a few years to figure out that it wasn't my fault. I mean, they tell you it's not your fault, but then, then you go to court and you have to defend yourself, absurdly, while everyone is telling you that it is your fault." She paused again and exhaled slowly, almost a sigh of relief. She had always had trouble talking about it, the majority of her early therapy sessions were spent in silence, but she knew it was bound to come up with Jake some time so it did feel a little like relief that it was over with. "I do know that it wasn't my fault, though."

Knowing that was part of how she could stand to pay for her dad's perpetual rehab. That and knowing if he was in rehab on the east coast, he wouldn't be coming to visit her on the west coast.

After a moment of quiet, she opened her eyes and looked up. "Thank you."

"Okay. Good." He supposed that was something, that she'd figured out it wasn't her fault. That wasn't something he was sure he'd ever be able to live through so he admired her strength and her ability to move on and become not only a decent person but someone who was kind, caring and helped others as much as she did.

If her father ever came to the west coast, the only thing that would keep him from killing him would be Violet.

"For what? I was just telling the truth."

"For listening, thank you for that. And just... for not acting like it's, like it's... Just thank you." She pulled the blanket up a little, tucking it under her chin. "And thank you, for always making me feel safe." Which was damn important to her.

"You do the same thing for me," Jake answered. He shifted so that he was curled up a little more around her, thinking she was cold. She didn't make him feel safe, so much as accepted, which was just as important to him.

Violet was content to just lay there like that for a while, very content to stay wrapped up in Jake. And she did, letting the silence and comfort wash over her, smoothing her frayed nerves. She was tired, emotionally drained, but she wasn't sleepy, savoring this quiet moment, her arm snaking gently around his waist again.

"We're going to the store tomorrow, Jake," she said, finally breaking the silence. "So, you know, get over it."

Rude, Violet, rude.

It was actually better to give Jake sometime to prepare himself for something like that. He went through stages like refusal and denial and paranoia, finally reaching acceptance if he had time to process it.

"Fine, but don't get pissed if I hit people with my cane."

Like any self respecting old man (not) would do.

Violet rolled her eyes so hard it was practically verbal. She was usually better about giving him time to accept things, but he needed to learn how to accept things on the fly anyway.

At least things that came from her.

"Okay, if you don't get pissed when I hit you with your cane."

She didn't usually push him into new experiences like this. She usually let him live a hermit's life. Going to the mall was not a hermit's life. He was having a hard time adjusting.

He shrugged a bit. "I'd probably deserve it."

"Probably," she agreed absently. Her eyes closed, contentment and warmth adding to her tired state even though her mind was far from sleepy and kept mulling over things she'd rather not think about when she was relatively comfortable in her contentedness.

"Tell me a story."

He ran his fingers through her hair while she drowsed against him, just as content as she was at the moment. He'd just closed his eyes when she made her request.

"Hmmm?" he sort of hummed, rousing himself enough to make an actual response to her. "Uhm...I'm not much of a story teller."

He hummed again a bit, trying to gather up something for a story. "There's a bunch of stray dogs wanderin' around Afghanistan. It's just sort of something that happens. So one morning we're all sitting outside eating breakfast and there's this guy in my unit, George. George likes to hear himself talk. He's from Charleston and he's got this Southern drawl. Anyway...George is talking, using both of his hands to gesticulate and we're all laughing at something he's telling us about a girl and a summer back home with a water hole. So none of us are paying attention and this wiry, little skinny dog sneaks up and grabs his bacon, darts off quick as you please. Now a couple of us saw it happen, but we're not telling George anything. So he reaches down to get a piece of his bacon and it's gone. We manage to convince that he ate it all and Isaac, another one of the guys, hands over a piece of his bacon. Says he's Jewish and he shouldn't be eating it anyway. George takes a bite, puts the bacon down on his plate and goes on with his story. That dog sneaks up, grabs the bacon and takes off again. Well this time, it's a little harder to convince George that he ate his bacon so he's accusing several of us of taking his food and while he's doing that, the dog sneaks back up and starts slurping down his eggs. George turns just in time to see the dog licking his plate clean before it dashes off."

Jake was chuckling as he told the story.

"We named the damn dog Oliver and we all gave up part of our breakfast every morning to feed him."

"Never would have guys you boys would be up on the classics, Oliver Twist, well done." It was such a sweet story and Jake told it with such humor that it made Violet's heart hurt a little. Those were his friends and they were all gone.

God, she didn't know how he did it. She always told him he was strong and he didn't need to blame himself for what happened, but she wasn't sure he know just how strong she thought he was because it was incredibly hard to put into words.

"Did you ever have a dog, growing up?"

Jake shrugged. "It had to be explained to a coupla the boys." He was trying very hard not to think about the fact that all of his friends were gone. It was easier to make it through everything if he could avoid focusing on that. He cleared his throat a little, pushing away the thought of his friends then nodded.

"Oh yeah. We had this crazy chocolate lab that chewed all of dad's shoes, but wouldn't touch mom's. He slept at the foot of our beds, different one of us every night. His name was Rusty. We weren't real original with his name."

"You could have called him Brownie," she said with a shrug, defending their decisions as children. She yawned slightly, stifling it behind her hand. This day was far more emotional than she thought it was going to be and it had begun to press at her, begging for sleep.

She nestled closer to him, fingers tracing little circles on his arms. "I always wanted a dog."

"Dad wanted to call him damn dog in Swedish. Mom forbid it." And everyone knew who really ran the Safstrom household. He wrapped his arms a bit tighter around her shoulders, hesitant for a moment as he thought about his words and the implications of them.

"We could get one. Maybe an older dog that's not as likely to jump around into me."

because the last thing either of them needed was for him to get knocked down and make his rehab worse.

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