She had passed out on his chest. Some of it from her drunkeness. Some of it from exhaustion. He seemed to be in awe of her, in this moment. Playing with her newly brunette locks. Tracing her jaw with his hands.
She laid her head back on his chest. "You keep me young. You know that, Buck?"
He was genuinely shocked that she said that. He rested his hand back on her head. "How so, Nicks?"
"You're joking." she blankly said, she didn't move to display her frustration, but he could tell that she was not impressed.
"Is it because I'm an asshole?" he jokingly said, hoping to lighten the mood.
Sadness seemed to sweep across her face. He could feel her choke on the words before she said them. "You're... You're the reason I can twirl across the stage with rage and delight. You're stuck a decade behind me and when I turn forty and I start getting wrinkles, you'll be thirty-nine. Young, wrinkle free, and still wearing your stupid ASS EYELINER!" she laughed.
"I'm going to pretend that you didn't say that." She sat up and tried to comb through her hand with her fingers.
"I'm getting coffee." she abruptly said. She got up and went into her kitchen. He followed her in smirking at how scattered she was. "Want any?"
"Why not?" His eyes were drawn to the photos in her living room. Stevie and him singing Angel in '79. A collage of photos from their first date. One in particular caught his eye. What seemed to be a sonogram of a 6 week old baby, dated February 19, 1981. The last time they met, before the fight.
