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"i lost," is the first thing you hear. that's a little past three. you'd be more upset about a call so late if it were anyone else. if you weren't already awake.
that's about the only thing you can make out. his words are slurred and he mumbles over himself. it's easier to catch the voice in the background, the one calling out to correct him on the details - the bartender, you'll learn when you get there.
it'd be easier if rhett would put him on, but he won't.
almost a quarter 'til four is when you get there.
you take a breath when you push the door open and it feels like the first one since rhett called you. when you left your house, you were expecting to have to search for a drunk, upset rhett. you could've thrown up when you didn't see his car in the parking lot. all par for the course. something that's become tradition on the nights like these. late calls and trying to catch him before he catches another dui.
especially because this isn't wabang.
it's not far, but it's a few towns over. lot more cops he'd have to evade. by the looks of him, he wouldn't have.
"where's your truck?"
"in town, still at the handsome gambler." he sounds a bit more sober. easier to understand at least, looks like he'll eat shit if he tries to stand though.
when you're next to him, you pull cash out, not bothering to look at how much. it doesn't matter, he - the bartender - had saved you a bit of heartache and world of panic. you just slip it onto the bar and mouth thank you.
he takes it, muttering it "it won't happen again."
you nod, pulling rhett to his feet, keeping your arm around his waist for support. "so, how'd you get here, then?"
he's finicky tonight.
"i hitch- i can fuckin' walk." he interrupted himself, abrupt and abrasive, pushing himself away from your hold. and you love the man, but you are tired.
you don't care to do this right now. so you drop your arm, let him stumble and catch himself. just to fuck with him a little bit. "looks like it."
there's a softness to your voice. one that's reserved for rhett. it's clear you're not thrilled. you never are when you come picking him up on nights like this. he doesn't expect you to be. always expects it to be worse, though. just before you get there, he expects long silences painted with a temper. expects exasperated words tinged with anxiety.
it's never there.
just relief, with a little groggy frustration. there's always some amount of nerves that leave him when you're around, like when you pull him to your side, again, half carrying him, you take up too much room next to him for those nerves to keep any space. he prefers it that way, they can stay gone.
home, the home he calls home, your home, isn't close. the drive home is flooded with long silenced. occasionally, rhett will speak up, somewhat absentmindedly.
"i hitched a ride," comes an answer you forgot to expect. then, even more belatedly, rhett offers, "guy was gonna take me back."
"yeah, what happened?"
"told 'm i had a ride."
there's a scoffed out laugh from you. "suppose i am, yeah."
your tone is light, more humored than anything. it leaves a bad taste in rhett's mouth, regardless. bad enough he wants to argue, feels heated words boiling in his throat.
he doesn't.
just let's those words fizzle out.
there's a few more random thoughts along the way home, some short drunken rambles that. all of which stear clear of his loss, until you're pulling into your driveway: "i wish you'd been there."
it's a dumb thing to say. he'd know that even if he didn't watch you press your lips together. if he didn't see how viscerally you work on not reacting. because rhett knows you'd go if he'd let you.
you nod, voice as light as it's been all night. "why don't we talk about this in the morning," looking over his face once your parked, bringing a hand to his cheek. rhett pushes into it as your thumb slides against his cheek. there's a frown with furrowed brows etching itself onto his face. "ok?"
he doesn't say anything more about it in the moment, but it's clear he wants to. rhett's never been terribly good at hiding when he has something on his mind. not from you. he always tells you eventually.
wishes he didn't with stuff like this. things, he figures, that are just a fight waiting to happen. it's inevitable, but inevitable doesn't have to be right now, so he just let's a bunch of other moments pass by.
it's about as close as you get to a 'yeah, ok' when he's like this.
after you've gotten him into the house, pushing bottle after bottle of water on him
after you got him into a shower he dragged you along for, despite the fact it wasn't supposed to be full shower. you'd just wanted him to rinse off. figured part of the weight of today would come off with his clothes and maybe a bit more would find itself down the drain with a quick rinse. instead you find yourself behind him, easing off the day's stress yourself. you usually do, one way or another.
after you're both in bed and you're more than half asleep, with your face against the back of his shoulder and an arm slung around him. your arm that he holds there without really thinking.
it's after all those little moments pass by that he says anything again. "i fucked up."
"fucked what, baby?" you're so close, he can feel the rumble of your voice against his skin, feel the languor in it. he doesn't mind that you're barely awake. prefers it really.
"the first round."
it's like practicing a confession. figuring out how to answer all the questions you'll have in the morning.
it feels nice to be raw with you when he can handle it, even like this.
especially like this.
"i just- it, i couldn't stay on" rhett pulls away slightly, just enough to shift the side he lays on, just to face you. "fucked up the score." he loses the conviction he had when he started, or rather it's replaced by a new one. the words slow, dying as they come out. and it's absurd. it just doesn't feel important right now. just doesn't matter anymore because your face scrunched a bit when he moved, and all he can do is watch you press your face into your arm, think about how comfortable you are in his presence, how easy sleep comes to you when he's in your bed. how natural he feels in yours
he's heard you mention having issues sleeping. he's reaped what little benefits can come from it from time to time, in the form of late night hookups and rides home from the bar. seldom is rhett actually witness to it.
it's a sillier one, but it is a point of pride for him.
you hum, belatedly. the only response you can really manage in your stupor. it strengthens his new conviction. the thought eases a tension in himself rhett forgot was there, just a bit. a tension he can't remember living without.
he'll blurt it out the next morning over breakfast, toast and weak coffee, with his head pounding and his heart calm.
"i want you to come. to my next ride, i mean."