Work Text:
You lay a soft kiss on his forehead. His blonde stubble tickles the palm of your hand as your thumb strokes his cheekbone slowly.
"Wake up Captain~" you call, almost a whisper.
He whines a bit, his eyebrows furrow in protests as you giggle at his tired battle against sleep.
He received the news from the pilot school yesterday, a simple envelope that contained the acknowledgement of his years of hard work and dedication.
He was stunning, his smile brighter than you had seen in a while, eyes sparkling in joy as he showed you the confirmation. You matched his energy in an instant, throwing your arms around his sturdy neck, jumping and squealing to his amusement.
"You did it!" You laughed "I'm so happy for you!"
He lifted you up like you weighted nothing before spinning you around to your delight.
He was radiant, big deep chuckles shaking his shoulders as you congratulated him to the point he began to become shy. His cheeks reddening at your honest and unfiltered pride.
Now. As the firsts rays of sunlight came to illuminate his long lashes. You are proud to be the first person to call him Captain.
You only wear his discarded shirt to keep the morning chill off your naked body as you get up. Lucky for you, his broad frame result in his tops being large enough to give you a semblance of modesty. Hunger woke you an so, a nice celebratory breakfast was your plan. You kiss his protesting lips once more before exiting the room.
Your home is quiet, peaceful and inviting until you spot a human shape in your peripheral vision.
Your smile drops as fast as your heart.
Surely sleep was making shadows appear as people?
You rub you eye nervously and walk to the kitchen slowly, nerves waking you up entirely. You let out a loud, surprised yelp.
From the bedroom, you can hear Curly stir.
"All good?" He calls out.
Your initial fear becomes anger as you stare into those un-bothered dark eyes.
"Jimmy's here" You answer. Not able to hide your annoyance.
There, standing like he owned the damned place... Dirty boots leaving dried mud on your clean kitchen floor, leaned against the counter, one of the muffins you baked yesterday half gone in his, most certainly, unwashed hand.
He has the gull to throw a smirk your way, you only glare harder.
The way his eyes flick up and down your barely clothed figure sends a shiver of disgust straight to your gut.
You're not hungry anymore.
"You can add more sugar to these you know?" He scoffs, showing you the pastry you baked for Curly and yourself. He takes a slow bite without breaking eye contact. You shudder, trying to not show how angry he makes you.
Since you can already hear Curly moving about, probably looking for the shirt you're wearing, you turn to leave.
"Morning to you too sunshine!" He laughs. The fucking nerve of that guy.
You pass your boyfriend on the way to the bedroom. He finally opted to just go shirtless. His blonde chest hair in full glory, a view that would usually make you swoon. You're too angry for that.
Curly notices and barely stops you before you slam the bedroom door closed. His larger rough hand warm around your wrist.
"What's wrong?" He asks. Genuinely confused.
It takes everything in you to not roll your eyes at him.
"Jimmy. That's what's wrong."
It wasn't an unusual occurrence. More often than not Jimmy would appear unannounced to your shared house. He had a double of your keys, which was given by Curly in case of emergency. Of course, what constituted an emergency for Jimmy was honestly a mystery to you.
"He can't keep appearing like that! This is not his house! I want to be able to feel safe in my home! Not wonder if your friend will decide to show up when I'm taking a fucking shower."
Try as you might, your frustration seeps through. Curly's lips turn into an embarrassed frown. His eyes move frantically across your face in worry.
"I... I'll talk to him OK?"
You sigh, already exhausted on top of it all.
"Sure you will..."
You rip your wrist from his grasp and shut the door.
You can't hear the conversation going on in the kitchen. You slide down the door until you're seated, knees against your chest.
Your shared room is quiet now. The curtains you bought move ever so slightly with the morning breeze filtering through a barely open window. Light reflects on the many crystals decorating your windowsill, reflecting on the ceiling like stars.
You stay that way for a while, just breathing slowly. Six seconds in, six seconds out. The breathing exercise your learned long ago beginning to take effect and calming the bubbling anger that seemed to be associated with that freeloader of a 'friend'.
You sigh and get up to get dressed.
Worst of all... you could only blame yourself for this. You had been warned.
As soon as your friends saw you were talking to Curly, they pulled you aside. In hushed whispers and worried glances they warned you. Curly's biggest problem was Jimmy. He thought that man could do no wrong, he believed in him to the point of stupidity, no matter how many times the man stole, lied or broke...
Jimmy could hold the mangled corpse of a fresh kill in his hands and Curly would still feel the need to help him.
You saw it first hand so often.
Curly himself told you.
"I can't just abandon him... He has no one else"
Well maybe for a good reason! You would answer.
But he would only shake his head, tortured soul of a martyr. He carried Jimmy like his faith.
Finally you pull your pants up and walk out of the room.
He is still there. Pouring his woes onto your kitchen floor, Curly picking up the pieces. When they finally notice you, he is asked to 'wait outside, please'.
Your partner, your lover, your significant other. He turns to you in shame when the other man leaves. As he calls your name, unsure, you can only stare at the mud remaining on the kitchen floor.
"So, what is it this time?" You begin "Out of money? Kicked out? Or did he just miss breaking in?"
Curly sighs, visibly frustrated at your accusations."He is trying... OK?"
You want to laugh, to point the obvious once more and call bullshit.
But you won't. His deep blue eyes reflect yours, they plead for mercy, they plead for understanding and patience. Of which you have little left for Jimmy.
"He's down on his luck. Yes, again, I know" He approaches you slowly, head down like a scolded child seeking forgiveness "I told him he can't just appear like that, without warning. I swear."
You recall him telling you about his pasts relationships once, when you both were laying on the sofa one night, right after moving in together. How he confessed that many of his exes left because he wouldn't cut Jimmy out. How he asked, hands holding yours, voice low, in confidence, that if you ever did as him to choose... He would choose you, but he would be heart broken.
You realise ultimatums are extreme, that making him choose would be cruel. But This could not keep happening.
"Did he congratulate you at least?" You look past him towards the front door, feeling watched all of a sudden.
He pauses, looks down again "I don't think it was the right time to brag... He failed the entry exam... again" the distinct aftertaste of bitter disappointment trails his words.
"It's not bragging Curly. You worked so hard for your licence, years of hard work. He should be happy for you regardless."
Silence, you hate to see him sad.
"Curly..." You call, tender, beckoning him forwards and into your arms. He melts into you, tension leaving his shoulders. "You are not responsible for him. He is a grown man, he knows what he does. You can't keep trying to fix every thing he messes up"
Tension returns to him, His arms wrap tighter around you."I have to. He's my oldest friend. He has done so much for me and... I'm the only one left to help him. I owe it to him."
A battle lost before it's conception. You push your forehead against his shoulder, taking in the warm smell, the velvet skin of your man, skin he would sell for that glorified parasite of his.
"Just... I don't want him home. OK? Take the keys back from him."
He kisses the top of your head, a slow, tender press of his lips, he breathes into it his gratitude and affection.
You finally cave.
"I will. I Promise"
The look that man gave you comes back to you. Cold seeps back under your skin. It's almost like his eyes left a vile trail on your body, marking you as something. You hated thinking he could break in... again... That, thankfully, rare pulled smile that showed too much of his thoughts.
"What do you think of a dog? A guard dog" you mumble.