Write Your Own Song

Chapter 13

Jack wasn't sure how it came to pass that he was sitting at a bar in a Chicago strip club, nursing a glass of Jack Daniels that he had to practically beg the bartender to give him in the first place. Not to mention the fact that he was now covered in glitter and cheap perfume and had been called cute so many times that he'd lost count.

It was certainly not what he'd had planned for the day when he woke up to the sound of Bobby banging on his door.

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"Come on, Jack – we need to be on the road in," Bobby checked his watch, "twenty minutes."

"What?" Jack mumbled, squinting as Bobby opened the curtains, flooding the room with early morning sunlight. He pushed himself up into a sitting position against the headboard, confused and disoriented. "What?" he repeated.

"We're going on a road trip – get your shit together."

Jack looked over at his alarm clock and groaned. "You're going on a road trip," he said through a yawn. "I'm going back to bed."

"You can get your beauty sleep in the car. It ain't like it's the break of fucking dawn, anyway - most normal people are awake. Now get up and move your ass." Bobby started kicking stuff around on the floor – Jack had a habit of just dropping stuff when he was through with it and he'd accumulated quite a pile of crap in the months since coming back home. Buried under his leg brace and some dirty clothes, Bobby found what he was looking for – Jack's duffle bag. He tossed it on the bed and headed for the door.

"Fill that. I'm not sure how long we'll be gone," Bobby ordered as he headed down the hallway for his own room.

"I don't even know where the fuck we're going," Jack called after him but his only answer was the sound of a bedroom door closing. "Fuck it," Jack grumbled, pushing the bag onto the floor and settling back into bed, punching his pillow back into the shape he preferred.

"Don't even think about going back to sleep, princess."

Even though Bobby couldn't see Jack flip the bird at the door, it still gave him a small measure of satisfaction to do it.

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"I don't care about your bar, Bobby." Jack was leaning against the window. He'd rolled up his leather jacket to make a pillow, but it was uncomfortable as hell. He should have brought a pillow along, but then he would have felt like a two year old with his blanket trailing behind him as he trudged to the car in the middle of the morning.

"It's a club, not a bar." He noticed Bobby's hand tightened on the steering wheel and he made a mental note to call it a bar as often as possible.

"Whatever," he sighed.

"I've been away too long and I've got shit to take care of. Should just take a day or two. Beats physical therapy, at least," Bobby reasoned and Jack shrugged. "It was either you tag along or you stay at home with Angel and Bridezilla. She wasn't gonna let up with all that wedding crap. You know that, right?" Bobby asked with an amused grin.

His brothers all found the wedding stuff hilarious. Jack just couldn't find a way out of it and figured it was easier to give in to her. Leave it to Bobby to drag him to another state to escape Sofi and her wedding plans.

"She'll just have more stuff for me to look at when we get home," Jack said as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Front seats were not made for sleeping – but he didn't want to sit in the back and run the risk of Bobby bombarding him with fairy and princess jokes about being chauffeured. Bobby would argue that he wasn't that transparent, but Jack could practically write the jokes for him at this point.