Lucky Strike - Wayhaught/Jetri

9: I Wasn't Jus' Gonna Wag Me Finger at 'Em

Friday, October 8th, 1993 2:46 AM

"C'mon, Corporal."

Nicole's eyes snapped open when the familiar voice broke through her dream. She sucked in a loud breath, the thrashing of her body only stopping when she realized where she was. "Christ," she muttered, fingers wrapping around the arm thrown across her chest.

"Yer alrigh'," Robin mumbled into her hair, squeezing her a little tighter. "Jus' a hell shot. Breathe, Kid."

The redhead's chest continued to heave as she looked towards him, seeing the worry on his face illuminated by the light of the moon shining through their window. She let out a quiet whimper as she rolled to her side and tucked her head under his chin, holding herself close to his front to try and stop the shakes that were rattling through her. Robin wrapped his arm around her and rubbed his thumb on her back, quietly beginning to hum some jazz, knowing that always seemed to calm her down.

And after 10 or so minutes, it worked just as it usually did, and the shaking had pretty much stopped.

Robin quieted the jazz with a sigh. "I've been tryin' ta sleep 'n yer screamin's been keepin' me up all night, ya damned git," he said with a small laugh. "Bloody rude o' ya. Ya makin' me hangover headache worse dan it needs ta be."

"Feck off, ya arse," she grumbled, though she laughed a little too.

"Do ya wanna talk 'bout what's gettin' ya all bothered all 'a sudden?" He questioned. "Ya ain't had one o' dem like dat since ya got 'ere, 'n dis is yer second in two nights. Is it t'e ting with Chrissy dat's still got ya shooken up?"

"Nah," she mumbled, pulling her head back from his chest and sitting up. She turned and stood up on her good knee, leaning forward and opening their window before pulling the drawer of their nightstand open and grabbing the first aid kit. She took the top off, squinting down into it through the dark and grabbing one of the joints that Robin had rolled the day before along with a lighter, closing it and shoving it back in the drawer. "I roughed up dis dumb bloke dat was boterin' Waves yesterday." She lit the joint and turned to sit back against the headboard, taking a drag with her eyes closed. "Ain't done anytin' like dat fer a minute now."

"I guess violence don't sit well with ya anymore, aye?"

Nicole slowly released the smoke and swallowed, "Not with Waverly either, it seems."

"She didn't find it ta be very heroic of ya, I'm guessin'?"

"I tink I scared her," she mumbled. "T'e poor ting fecked right off afterward, barely payin' me a second glance."

"Can't say I'm surprised, t'ough," he sighed, taking the joint from her after she pulled in another lungful and did the same himself. "What t'e hell d'ya do ta him, anyhow?"

"Shoved 'em up against t'e wall 'n smashed his stupid mug into t'e table." She shrugged a little as she took the joint back. "Not like I knocked 'em around or anytin', t'ough. I wanted ta, I really bloody wanted ta, but I didn't."

"Dat be a plus, I s'pose," Robin sighed. "Don't need ya gettin' kicked out or anyting." He felt the redhead shrink into herself next to him, and he looked towards her with a furrowed brow. "Ya really care 'bout her, don't ya?"

"I really do, Mate . . . 'n now I tink she hates me guts."

"Don't say dat," he mumbled, rubbing her leg.

She looked towards him after quickly letting the smoke out, feeling a burn in her throat that wasn't only from the weed. "Ya ever cared 'bout somebody so much dat ya'd give or do anytin' fer 'em in a heartbeat?"