Joan sat quietly in the passenger seat of the car. Her face flushed drunk with a hint of embarrassment.
"Are you-aah, okay?" He asked, a hand placed on her thigh.
"No, I just completely embarrassed myself, JFK. Right in-front of Abe and his stupid girlfriend," she growled, clearly frustrated at herself. "You should have never taken me to this stupid party." She grumbled.
"I thought it would help you-erm, get ya mind off things," he moved his hand higher in her lap. This was immediately with a slap. "Ow!"
"This didn't help at all, he wasn't even jealous that I was with you!" She looked over at JFK, his face dull and without emotion. His eyes dropping safely and his hand from on the wheel. He looked over at her for a moment. His eyes deep and sad. Something Joan has never seen. It looked like he was about to... cry?
"You only went to the-uh, dance with me to make Abe-er jealous?" He asked, his very a bit weak, his accent a bit heavier than normal.
"Well, you only asked me to the dance because I was dressed like a slut," she shot back, too drunk to care about anybodies feelings but her own.
"Didn't you feel something when you were dancing with me?" He looked over again.
"Uh, no," Joan answered.
It was silent. JFK nodded and looked back to the road. Joan thought for a second. Why was he acting like this? And why did he care? He danced with like three other girls why he was there.
"Where are you going?" Joan cut her thoughts off as she noticed he had passed the road she lived on.
"Well-er, I cant take ya home, your dad will know your drunk," he explained, turning down his street and driving towards his house. "I thought you'd-uh said you were-ah, staying down stair for tonight."
Joan didn't remember that at all but JFK was right, if Toots saw her drunk her ass was had. She vaguely remembered telling him she would be staying with a friend but, not with JFK. Maybe Ghandi? Joan didn't really care. JFK was cool, he was an absolute dick but, some of his jokes would land on occasion and it would make her laugh so, she just went along with it.
"My uh, parents are gay," He spoke, Joan realizing they were sitting in the drive way. She looked over to she JFK fumbling with his key and slamming his car door.
Maybe she was drunk but her eyes directly diverted to his ass.
"Damn," she thought.
He got to the front door before he noticed that she was still in the car, staring at him. Maybe Joan was a little more drunk than he thought. She was draped over the center console. Her tits nearly out her dress and heels kick off. He chuckled.
"Hot," he said allowed to himself, but shook his head. She didn't want him, and for once he felt like he had to respect that.
He walked to the other side of the car opening the door to see Joan in the same position. She turned her head slowly.
"You-uh, need some help?" he asked, leaning over to whoop her legs on his arms, tugging her torso to his and picking her up.
"Are you carrying me right now?" She asked, her face glowing even redder as she looked up at Kennedy's strong jaw line.
He looked down at her, smiling a bit before pushing the door open with his foot. It was pitch black in his house when they walked in, the darkness of the outside seemed bright compared to his house.
Joan was almost scared. What was he gonna do with her. After settling down for awhile the alcohol was really starting to hit her and she had almost not clue what directing they were moving.
