What Goes Around Comes Around

Whiskey and Kisses

With Nate still not home and my heart aching for my cowboy, it only takes me a glass of wine and I'm calling him, curling a finger around the cord of the house phone.

It only rings once before he answers. "Someone's eager."
"You called me."
I laugh, he isn't wrong. He asks me why and that's a question I didn't really think about. Why am I calling him? He says my name and I'm back to reality.
"Gage. No, I don't exactly know why, I... Come over."
"Vanessa are we really doin' this again?"
"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."
"Why should I come over?"
I hum and push my fingers through my hair still holding the phone to my ear. "Because I asked you to?"
"You didn't ask, y'tried to tell me to."
I hum again frowning lightly and sigh, "Porter, won't you come over? Please?" I swear I hear him chuckle.
"Better. Gimme twenty minutes."

He hangs up immediately, and I find myself unsure of what to do with myself. No, I don't know why I invited him round, we established a few days ago that we couldn't do this again. No matter how bad Nate could be, it wasn't fair. It wasn't fair on him, for obvious reasons, it wasn't fair on Gage because he's risking his job, his life, and you know, I'm married. It's not fair on me because I want something I can't have.

But here I am, having just invited him round, but in my defence he could've said no. I pour myself another glass of wine and draw the living room curtains before sitting down on the couch. I find myself chewing at my nails, a terrible habit but one I've picked back up recently, and I realise I've missed him. I have missed the gangbanger with the mohawk and metal eyepatch. Oh how far you have fallen, Vanessa.

There's a single knock at the door and I almost jump out of my skin, I down the rest of my wine and walk over to the door. I sucked in a breath, one hand holding the handle. I could just not open it. I'd be a complete wanker for doing so but-. He knocks again and I open the door, looking up at him quietly. Neither of us say anything.

His pupils are blown out and he smells stronger of whiskey than he does of cigarettes. He's been drinking. A lot too for it to mask the smell of smoke. I pray he hasn't been driving and notice a taxi pull out of Sanctuary, thank God.

"Y'gonna lemme in, Nessie?" He drawls. I forget how much thicker the accent is when he's been drinking. It's hot.

He doesn't wait for me to respond and steps inside, Ms Rosa's curtains flutter opposite us. Nosy cow. He shuts the door behind himself and we are suddenly standing closer than I think I could handle. Almost getting drunk from the smell of booze on him. "What am I doin' here?" He sounds more like he's asking himself, and I place my hands flat on his chest, before gently tugging at the grey t-shirt he's wearing.

He hums and rests a hand on my cheek before sliding it up into my hair, his thumb caresses my eyebrow, and the slit through it, "I'm," (he says it like ahm!), "glad y'don't try to cover it. Fill it in or surgery or summat." I laugh gently and turn my face away, he turns it back, a look in his eyes that makes me shiver. "Well, I've been intending to," "don't. Makes y'look freakin' badass."

After a few minutes of silence, he lets out a sigh, removes his hand from my face and presses it to his own. "What am I doing here?" He repeats. "I," the words end there, he cuts me off, it seems he's not finished. "Like, I thought we agreed we weren't doin' this again, Nessie?" So did I. I shifted my weight from one foot onto the other, fiddling with the hem of the oversized shirt I'm wearing.

The oversized shirt I'm wearing that I think belongs to my husband.

"Why did you come then?" He frowns, opens and closes his mouth like a fish, and the silence hangs above us like a dead weight. "Look, I... I needed you, one last time, okay? Nate will be home soon," neither of us realised quite how soon, "and then, I guess it can all stop. If that's what you want. But tonight," I take a step closer, balling up his shirt in my hands, "let me have you. Please?"