Chapter Text
If there was ever a night for Jecka to not abandon Nicole on, it’s tonight. Kelly’s house parties are historically awful for everybody who isn’t a horny boy using alcohol as an excuse to get handsy; she invites whatever perverted freak she’s been fucking lately, and he just has to invite his adult friends, because apparently high schoolers are the perfect girlfriends for 24-year-old truckers with matted beards and neck tattoos, and everybody just has to deal with them like they’re not going to prison for kidnapping and murder in a couple months.
And Jecka thinks she’s the one who needs help.
Tonight’s no different – if anything, it’s worse. For one, Kyler’s here, and when he’s not selling oxy or bullying Jeffrey, he’s saying shit that makes Nicole want to die. Normally passed out Kyler is a little better than drunk Kyler, but the fact that he’s humping the couch in his sleep has her really wanting to kill herself.
Ari keeps trying to talk to her too. Sure, the attention is nice, but she really can’t deal with her stuttering like this when it’s obvious what she’s trying to get at. She almost feels bad telling her to fuck off.
Somehow worse than all of that is that she’s sober. She’d left her stash at home tonight, trusting Jecka to come through with her titty-Xanax, but now she’s disappeared.
The scornful part of her brain tells her it’s probably to fuck some guy for cheaper drugs. Bitch.
Nicole needs to take it out on someone, so she sells Crispin a bag of crushed up Tylenol and tells him it’s molly. Unfortunately, it doesn’t make her feel anywhere near as good as bullying usually does, because she doesn’t even have anybody to shit talk him with when he starts stumbling around like he’s seeing monsters.
And now Megan’s coming this way. God, could this night get any fucking worse-
“Nicole,” Megan greets coldly.
“I’m not selling you shit, Megan,” Nicole waves her off. “You purity ring bitches always get way too attached to your first dealers. I’m not babysitting you-“
Megan sighs. “I’m not here to buy drugs, bitch. Jecka’s drunk and she’s been crying for you for the past ten minutes. She finally tired me out enough to go get you.”
The thought makes Nicole’s heart pang. She chokes it down easily enough. “She’s not off with some dude?”
“No. She’s fucking wasted in Kelly’s room and I’ve been making sure she doesn’t burn the place down. Can you hurry up?”
Nicole stands. “Uh, did she ask you to do that?”
Megan stares at her, deadpan. “Just move, bitch.”
-
Jecka is sat on the floor leaning against the frame of Kelly’s bed. Her face is flushed, her hair is messy, and it makes Nicole feel a little crazy that she still looks hot as fuck.
There’s also the way she lights up when she sees Nicole, which-
No, she’s not thinking about that. Jecka still ditched her, and left her sober.
“Nicole!” She slurs, and Nicole’s resolve wavers.
“God, you are wasted. What the fuck, Jecka?”
Jecka pouts and tilts her head before turning to Megan. “Okay, can you leave now?”
“Fucking whores,” Megan mutters as she leaves.
Jecka sighs happily. She pulls out a cigarette, lights it, and pats the spot on the ground next to her.
“Do I look like a bitch who sits on the floor?”
“You look like a bitch who needs a smoke,” Jecka grins.
“Whatever,” Nicole plucks the dart from Jecka’s mouth and puts it in her own as she sits. “Thank fuck,” she says when the spins hit her.
Jecka giggles. She watches Nicole intently, before resting her head on Nicole’s shoulder. She takes a lock of Nicole’s hair in her hand and begins twirling it, and Nicole has to remind herself the Jecka is always handsy when she’s this drunk.
(She shuts out the more rational part of her brain that reminds her that Jecka has only ever been this handsy with her.)
“I fucking hate Mom friends,” Jecka complains when she takes the dart back. She turns away from Nicole to exhale, only to press back into Nicole when she’s finished. “She kept taking away my drinks and saying stuff like, ‘don’t smoke inside Jecka, Kelly’s gonna kill you.’ Like, as if I give a shit?”
Nicole lets her grin show for a second. “Kinda like how you took my drugs away?”
“Bitch, they’re in my bra, so they’re mine.” Jecka’s voice tickles Nicole’s throat. She shudders.
“Whatever, you still owe me. Why were you even hanging out with Megan?”
Jecka gags. “As if. Kelly was telling me some of her stories and, you know, slut solidarity so I had to listen, and then we went through like, three bottles of vodka each. She’s rich, you know? Megan only came after.”
“Fuck, I forgot about your porn addiction. That must’ve been great for you,” Nicole hums. In response, Jecka slaps her on the shoulder. “And you just had to go through all of it? Without me?”
Jecka doesn’t respond how she expects her to. Instead of arguing back, she buries her face in Nicole’s shoulder. “You know, you weren’t the only lonely one,” she slurs into her skin.
Nicole scoffs. “Lonely?”
Jecka hums, creating a sweet sensation as her voice vibrates against Nicole’s shoulder. She shivers again as Jecka tucks herself in deeper. “I missed you too.”
“I didn’t-“
“Don’t argue. Please.” Jecka’s voice turns sombre, and Nicole hates it.
She hates it so much that she listens. For a small moment, the only motion in the room is the cigarette being passed between the two of them, and Jecka’s hand in Nicole’s hair. Jecka’s breaths begin to even out, and with her chest pressing flush against Nicole’s side, Nicole feels herself sync to her rhythm, even as they take turns breathing smoke into the room.
“So,” Nicole whispers, when the vulnerability becomes too overwhelming. “Is this an alcohol makes me gay situation, or what?”
Jecka sighs. She pulls away from Nicole, who misses the contact immediately. Desperately, she wishes she could take the words back, but she finds she doesn’t need to.
Because Jecka, cigarette hanging alluringly from her mouth and sly grin on her face, clambers onto Nicole’s lap. She puts one leg on either side of Nicole’s, presses her chest forward, and leers at her.
Nicole’s heart stops. Her brain falters. Jecka can evidently see her struggle, because her grin stretches wider. “This is what it takes to get you to shut up, huh?”
Nicole recovers enough to speak. “I’m still sober, bitch. I’m not shutting up until-”
Jecka puts out the dart on Kelly’s bedstand, reaches under her dress into her bra – and, god, Nicole hadn’t registered just how low her dress was hanging on her, but fuck, if it isn’t distracting to see that.
She pulls out a pill – Xanax, Nicole recognises – and tauntingly holds it out. “Open,” she commands.
Nicole raises an eyebrow. “Make me.”
Jecka doesn’t budge. She holds out the pill, pushing her chest forward. It takes an effort to keep their eyes linked.
Eventually, Nicole gives in. She opens her mouth. Jecka’s hands are shaky, and she’s terribly coordinated in this state, but she’s still able to put the pill on Nicole’s tongue.
Nicole keeps her eyes on Jecka’s when she swallows. She blushes, and Nicole celebrates her victory by securing Jecka in her lap and sitting up, ensuring their eyes remain level.
“Happy?”
“For now,” Nicole admits.
Jecka giggles. She leans in, head swaying.
Nicole watches. “This is still pretty gay, Jecka.”
“I want you to make out with me, Nicole.”
Oh.
Nicole gulps, and not because, for probably the first time in her life, Nicole really does want to kiss somebody. She gulps because it’s Jecka, and she’s been letting these embarrassing fucking feelings grow for so long that she almost starts to expect it now – it had been so much easier to not feel, but Jecka makes her seem wrong for that.
This can only go one way, and Nicole dreads where it leads. At the same time, she wishes desperately she could let the thread unravel and follow it until its end.
But she can’t kiss her. Not like this.
“You’re drunk, Jecka,” she croaks.
“So?”
“What, do you think I’m a guy? I’m not kissing you while you’re fucked up like this.”
Jecka stares at her. Her face twists and shifts, from disbelief to something… sweet?
From her peripheral, Nicole hears the door creak, but she can’t bring herself to look. Jecka’s eyes are so pretty. Nicole doesn’t know how she’s never noticed before.
“Bitch,” Jecka says, but it lacks any venom. She rests her head on Nicole’s shoulder, remaining on her lap.
“What?”
“…Gay bitch,” she corrects. “Wanting to kiss me back.”
Nicole ignores the red in her cheeks. “Shut the fuck up. You were the one who jumped me-”
“That is not what happened. I’m a more graceful slut than that,” Jecka slaps her shoulder, giggling. “Tell me about something fucked up you did tonight.”
“Aside from wanting to murder all the men Kelly invited?” Nicole hums, “I sold Tylenol to Crispin and told him it was molly. He started talking to the wall.”
Jecka laughs into the crook of her neck. “What the fuck?”
“It was all I could do. I can’t handle being around those creeps sober.”
“You’re better now, thanks to me,” Jecka winks, and Nicole thinks it’s not just about the drugs. “Is that all we’re missing out there?”
“Aside from some ugly pedophiles and Ari’s flirting, pretty much.”
“Ari’s flirting?”
Nicole groans. “It’s like… she just tries to talk normally, but you can tell she’s trying to fuck. No straight girl dyes her hair that shade of red, you know?”
Jecka giggles. She pulls away from Nicole’s embrace and gazes at her. “I love you,” she slurs, and then she presses a soft kiss against the corner of Nicole’s mouth.
Jecka shifts her position, so her legs aren’t encircling Nicole’s lap. Instead, she moves off Nicole and back onto the floor before resting her head on Nicole’s lap, facing her stomach.
“Now let me sleep, bitch,” Jecka slurs closing her eyes.
Nicole coughs. When the heavy stone that’s clogging up her throat refuses to leave, she coughs again. Her face is burning, she notes faintly.
“Face the other way,” she mumbles, hoping her voice isn’t as high as it sounds.
“What?”
Nicole clears her throat. “Face the other way. If you make me go home with your vomit all over me, I’ll kill you.”
Jecka giggles again, nestling deeper into Nicole’s stomach.
-
Megan barges into the room ten minutes later with this shit-eating ugly grin on her face. God, Nicole hates this nosy bitch.
“So, apparently you’re-“ she chokes on the stench . “Oh, fuck, could you two not go five minutes without a fucking smoke?”
Nicole glares at her.
“I mean, seriously-“
“Megan, shut the fuck up.”
Megan finally acknowledges the precarious position they’re locked in – Jecka using Nicole’s jacket as a blanket, snoring contently in her lap and right hand locked with Nicole’s.
Megan grins again. “Oh, I already know, bitch. You think this was the first time I tried to check up on you two?”
Nicole’s brain spins. The door creaking, when Jecka was pushed up against her like that-
She composes herself as much as she can with Jecka on top of her. “What the fuck is this going to do for you? Outing somebody in Washington when Obama’s about to be president is just gonna get you bullied, dumbass,” Nicole glares. “Better idea; If you don’t get out right fucking now, I’ll make sure the fact that every girl in this school has seen your boyfriend’s ugly fucking dick before you is the least of your worries, bitch.”
Megan frowns. “That’s not-“
“Get out.”
“Fuck you,” Megan utters as she leaves.
The room is silent again, save for the commotion outside and Jecka’s steady breaths against her stomach.
-
Jecka wakes her in the next morning with a phone call that makes Nicole jump. She puts off answering for a moment before deciding, fuck it.
“Why the actual fuck are you calling me this early?”
Jecka groans, and the scratchiness in her voice is the only thing stopping Nicole from ripping her head off. “You know I can’t sleep when I’m hungover, bitch. Did you take me home last night?”
For as groggy as she feels, Nicole registers that Jecka’s memory is gone – and she’s more than a little confused at the disappointment she feels. She hums in confirmation.
“Thank fuck. Mom’s been looking at me weird all morning. I thought some guy was with me when she opened the door, or something.”
“As if a guy wouldn’t have just ditched you at the party.”
“Whatever. Skip with me today?”
Nicole grins. “Thought you were looking to get into a good college, or whatever.”
“Nicole, I’m hungover and tired and Mom was being a bitch all morning. If I have to listen to Jeffrey for even a second, I might actually murder him.”
“Why are we skipping, then? That’s hot as fuck.”
Jecka’s silence that lasts for a beat too long is confirmation enough that she does remember something, and some of this is an act. Nicole doesn’t exactly know how to feel about that.
Jecka clears her throat. “Shut up. Are you coming over or what?”
“Whatever, fine. See you in a bit.”
She hangs up before she can hear whatever Jecka says in response. God, she hates parties. If she just hadn’t come, Jecka probably would’ve gone off with some guy, and Nicole wouldn’t have seen her and heard… that.
That Jecka loves her.
And that she needed to be wasted to actually admit it. God, what the fuck is she supposed to do?
Whatever. Whatever. If Jecka wants to be like that… fine. Nicole can be a bitch too.
She’ll force Jecka to confess, one way or another. She’ll plan it out, and leave Jecka desperate, until all she can do is confess.
-
Jecka answers the door with a grimace on her face.
“You didn’t have to ring the doorbell,” she groans as she closes the door behind Nicole.
“Just wanted to see how bad the hangover is,” Nicole grins.
Jecka glares. “Happy now, bitch?”
“Very.”
Nicole watches as Jecka makes her way onto the couch. She’s dressed in sweatpants and a singlet, and even with no makeup and the seemingly unmoving stormy look on her face, she still looks better than everybody else at their school combined. As if that’s saying much.
Her hair’s fully down as well. Nicole kind of wants to run her hands through it.
Instead, she follows Jecka to the couch. It feels lame in comparison to where her brain was leading her, but whatever. Baby steps.
“Where’s your parents?”
Jecka rolls her eyes. “Dad’s working. Mom’s going out for an ‘afternoon with the girls,’ which means day drinking and harassing everybody who isn’t white.”
“They have drugs?”
“They’re rich, obviously.”
“So, why the fuck are we sitting here?”
“My parents at least pretend to care about me. There’s a lock on the cabinet, and shit. Even if there wasn’t, Mom’s a bored housewife with no job. She’s probably got some list of everything in there.”
Nicole sighs.
“God, you’re a bitch, fine.” Jecka reaches under her singlet to pull out a pill. Nicole’s seen her do it hundreds of time before, but after last night? Her brain immediately jumps to Jecka doing the same while she was pressed up against her, with her pupils blown, and cheeks flushed, and body pressed up against Nicole’s.
And how fucking good it all felt.
Nicole hopes her blush doesn’t show when she takes the titty-Xanax from her. Nicole’s hand burns when they make contact, and evidently Jecka feels it too, because Jecka’s resolutely staring at the TV when she looks up. Her cheeks are dusted with pink.
“What even happened last night?” She asks without making eye contact.
Nicole shifts closer to Jecka. “Aside from you ditching me for fucking Kelly? Nothing, really.”
Which isn’t exactly a lie – once Jecka had passed out, Nicole had spent the rest of the party with her in Kelly’s room until they’d been kicked out – it’s just neglecting what had happened in between. But Jecka wouldn’t know about that, right?
“I didn’t fucking ditch you-“
“The hottest bitch at the party left me alone at a party where I hate everybody. That’s not ditching?”
Jecka coughs. Her face is back to that delicious pink. “Second hottest,” she says quietly.
“What?”
“Second hottest. We’re both tens, but you’re the hottest bitch I know.”
Nicole flushes. Oh, this is not good. Her insides feel… gooey. Her mouth doesn’t obey her anymore-
This is so not good. If she’s going to get Jecka to admit it, she needs to work harder.
Nicole forces herself to recompose, staunchly ignoring the heat running through her blood at Jecka’s words. Then she shifts on the couch so that she’s stretched across the side Jecka’s not on, lifts her legs, and rests them on top of Jecka’s lap.
Jecka finally looks at her, but for some reason, Nicole can’t return it with a glare.
“Lying is only hot when you do it to other people, you know,” she croaks.
Jecka opens her mouth to argue. She struggles with the words, falters, and then closes her mouth. She bites her lip – she bites her lip, oh fuck – then leans back on the couch, pulling Nicole’s legs across her torso as she goes.
When she looks at Nicole, she’s wearing a content smile and that lovely dusting of pink as perfectly as she does anything. Nicole has to force herself to look away, or the raging inferno simmering beneath her skin could let loose, and ruin all of her plans-
She’s not losing to Jecka.
But when she looks like that? Nicole hasn’t thought of anything as cute for years. Having the thought come about Jecka, who she’s seen lie and manipulate her way through countless situations almost as easily as Nicole…
Fuck. Jecka is her type.
Jecka’s hand brushes across her calf, a light touch that makes her ache for the sensations she felt a night ago, and Nicole can’t bring herself to care about the feelings rising within her.
-
The next phase in her plan is nothing so involved as spending an entire day sprawled atop Jecka, watching movies until her Mom stumbles home, screaming about evil baristas who sabotage her order. While that was fun, she doesn’t think piling it on will get Jecka to make any moves herself.
No, she needs to be cautious about it… enough to frustrate.
It’s as simple as slinking into her usual seat at lunch period besides Jecka a few days later, sighing loudly, and letting her leg press up against hers under the table.
Jecka makes a sound somewhere between choking and coughing.
“Picking art class might be the dumbest thing we’ve ever done,” she complains innocently. She keeps her eyes trained on Jecka, watching her reaction.
Jecka twitches. “What happened this time?” Her voice shakes but doesn’t break. She trains her eyes on her food – packed from home, of course, because as much as she says she only dresses preppy, Nicole knows her better than that.
Fine. If Jecka’s not going to acknowledge it, neither will Nicole.
She bats her lashes at Jecka as she presses her leg further, keeping her face impassive. “I thought it would be like, an easy class, but you know how Mr. Lorre is all about ‘affirmations,’ or whatever?”
Nicole shuffles closer. The closer proximity lets her curl her leg around Jecka’s. In response, Jecka lets a hum loose from her lips without looking at Nicole.
“Well, because he heard me calling Coach Colby a pedo, I had to stay back and listen to him affirm Jeffrey’s creepy fucking drawings of all the girls with boobs bigger than their heads.”
“S-seriously?”
Nicole hears the stutter, and she thinks there might be an inferno raging beneath her skin, what with how fast it makes her heart run.
She lets a grin show. “Yup. Worst part is, instead of calling it shitty fetish art made by a creepy future pedophile, he said it was stylistic.” As she speaks, she presses even closer, until they’re barely separated.
Finally, Jecka starts to push back. Though she’s blushing prettily, she still possesses a defiant glint in her eyes. “So, he’s still gonna stare at us when he thinks we’re working?”
“Probably. Worst part is, I’m not allowed to show Jeffrey what I draw anymore.” Nicole lets her knee trail up Jecka’s leg.
“The stuff about all his characters getting killed in weirdly graphic ways?” Jecka responds by pushing back harshly. Nicole holds back a jolt.
“Exactly. Like, is he fucking serious? Maybe he should affirm my urge to watch them both drown in the school bathrooms.”
Jecka halts their under-the-table battle to laugh softly. It’s not exactly her best line, but whatever works.
Jecka bridges the last remnants of the gap between them by shifting to steal a reheated fry from Nicole’s lunch tray, and she knows it’s a flimsy excuse to seek more contact because Jecka has never even looked at her food before.
Jecka winces at the taste. “God, how can you stomach this shit every day?”
“It’s basically cutting at this point.”
Jecka shrugs. She doesn’t move away, though her leg remains still – another victory, Nicole notes triumphantly.
Nicole softly presses her thigh against Jecka’s, who returns the motion after a beat.
They stay like that until the bell rings.
-
The next step in her plan isn’t exactly planned, but Nicole wouldn’t have risen to the top of this fucking hellhole of a school if she didn’t know how to improvise.
The worrying thing is it’s less of an improvisation and more… reactionary than she’s used to.
Because once school is over, Nicole sees Jecka smoking in the car park outside her car, talking to – no, Crispin has never held a conversation that remained consensual the entire way through – being harassed by Crispin, with his shitty graphic t-shirt, and his shitty grin, and-
Before she can even think of what her body is making her do, she’s inserting herself in between the two of them, and giving him the most violent side-eye she can muster.
“Fuck off and die, Crispin. We have plans and, like every other day, they don’t involve fucking you.”
Crispin does that stupid half-hearted chuckle, “who said anything about-“
“Fuck off and die. Do I have to say please? I mean, I’m not going to, but still.”
Crispin backs off rapidly after that. When Nicole turns, Jecka is stubbing out her dart with a grin.
“He was asking about math homework, you know.”
Nicole scoffs. “It’s Crispin, it’s never just one thing. It’s always, ‘you wanna study together? I’m really getting into enlightenment and shit lately, you know?’ God, he’s such a fucking loser.”
“I know,” Jecka says, and Nicole almost does a double take when she hears the tender tone. “I’m good at getting him to leave, but you’re like, that guy who won American Idol good.”
“I don’t have cable, remember?”
“Bitch,” Jecka’s words lack any heat. “We didn’t have plans today.”
“…You wanna get fucked up at mine? Mom got a new prescription last week.”
“Totally.”
-
“Are you sure nothing happened at the party?” Jecka asks her later, when there’s hazy clouds floating through her brain and her words have to force their way through a harsh fog for Nicole to register them.
“You seriously think I’d lie?”
Jecka raises an eyebrow.
“Bitch, I’d tell you if you got drugged, relax.”
“That’s not what I-“ Jecka groans. She sits up and eyes the position they’ve found themselves in – how their legs are tangled under Nicole’s fluffy blanket, how their fingers had intertwined at some point and never separated, how it feels like every point on her body with sensation is connected with her in some way, and how the crook in her neck feels infinitely emptier without Jecka’s head nestled in it.
Nicole tauntingly meets her gaze, matching the raised eyebrow. “What?”
Jecka inches closer, and Nicole feels the pull desperately, like there’s a force from within screaming at her to let their lips meet. She watches Jecka’s mouth work – with great interest, admittedly – and try and fail to say the words that Nicole knows she’s thinking. Her mouth opens, and then it closes. Nothing.
Her disappointment is tempered by that heady desire, dripping from the room and invading her senses until it’s running through her heart and into her arteries. It’s like drinking lightning; electricity flows through her and she feels it in every pore of her skin. She’s about this close to pushing forward herself and kiss her finally, even when she knows if she was sober, she’d never let her off the hook, even if it was Jecka, who’s probably the only person she knows deserving of mercy. Not to be too dramatic.
Jecka shakes her head. Resolve washes over her face as she pushes forward. She opens her mouth-
A crash from downstairs interrupts them. Nicole’s Mom screams from below, “Nicole! Why the fuck am I getting calls from the school about you drawing gore in art class?”
Nicole watches as Jecka jolts backwards like she’s been pricked with a needle, scrambling to remain upright and cover up the various pill bottles and shit they’ve left around Nicole’s room. It’s the perfect excuse for her to keep being a pussy.
What-fucking-ever.
“Try again next time, Jecka,” Nicole husks when she looks her way, and it’s all she can get out before she hears stomping up the stairs.