Bad, Bad Idea
Who: Ronnie and Jesse
Where: Streets/Sunny Shores
When: Afternoon
NSFW
Ronnie should have just walked away. It wasn't as if she didn't have plenty of time too -- she certainly noticed him long before he could get a chance to notice her. And there was kinda a city block of distance between them. And she was at the corner of a building, that she easily could have just ducked back around the corner of. And there were plenty of reasons to not face him -- both the last encounters with him and with her daughter still being raw and fresh, and recollections that should have most sent her slinking away. But they didn't. Sadly, the thought that got her closest to just turning around was an incredibly vain one: her eyes were still bloodshot ...even if the high had long worn off; her make-up was a good day old, and Ronnie just generally felt haggard... and kinda felt like she looked it, relatively speaking. Not that any kind of haggard on Ronnie stood much in the way of dialing up a smile and charming a nearby street vendor out of two of his wares -- even if she had to put more effort in it than normal. ...Really, as the years went by and guilt and shame piled higher, Ronnie often felt like charm and beauty were her only saving grace.
Which, especially considering how she wasn't feeling much of either right now, had her faking it exceptionally with a smile that didn't belong to a woman who had obviously woken up major kinds of rough. "Hey, Outlaw," she greeted, small meal in each hand, holding one out to him, "Hungry?"
Jesse looked over when he heard the nickname, and saw Her. Ronnie. He'd kind of been thinking he wouldn't see her for a long span of time since their last encounter, but there she was. He reached out to take what she offered. "What're you doing here?" he asked, then rolled his eyes at himself. City street, why wouldn't she be there? It wasn't like it wasn't a perfectly normal place where she had every right to be. "I mean, what's up?" he asked. "You..." look rough. And he could tell she'd fallen off of her little wagon again. Man, she hadn't even made it two weeks. "You okay?" he amended.
The answer was 'no', she was not okay. Not really in any definition of the word. Not that Ronnie had been able to legitimately claim that for... well, a long damn time now. "I've been worse," she smiled, casual, immediately digging into a bite of her food. Only it wasn't really the truth. Sure, in some ways, she had been worse. But after running into her daughter... it was pretty hard to remember a lower point. Which was saying something, for her. "What're you up to?" she asked by way of subject change, if not the smoothest one. Not that she was playing strong or anything. Hell, it wasn't as if Ronnie had any problem wearing her wounds on sleeve where Jesse was concerned... sometimes, she found herself kinda dialing up the wounded and needy around him, moreso than she felt. Or, well... she told herself it was more than she felt. But half the time she wasn't so sure. But these weren't just any wounds; these were ones their own daughter had inflicted, that Ronnie knew were less than she deserved, and she wasn't quite able to bear risking Jesse's reaction. Because given the choice between her and their daughter? She knew what he'd pick; and there was a sick feeling she had that might be the instance where he finally just... dropped her.
"You look like you've been better, too." Jesse noted. he also shrugged, hesitating on actually mentioning what he was doing. He'd sort of hoped that he could move, and they'd kinda sorta not tell her. And she'd maybe have trouble finding the new place, because she'd have to work to do it, and maybe she'd give it up as too much work, and they'd be done with her. She'd be gone. He didn't quite answer. "Just out." he said. "Yourself? Beyond looking like hell and that whole thing where you were going to get clean didn't even last two weeks this time?"
That stung. And it showed, kinda clearly, on her face for a moment before she put up an expression of water rolling off her back. Even if that wasn't the case at all. "Some weeks are rougher than others," she retorted, shrugging, offering up that excuse. Like running into their daughter, that was pretty damn rough. And something she just... couldn't handle, after that. She tried. She didn't go off looking for any kind of trouble, or any particular kind of substance, save for a drink... only the drink was at a bar, and there were people, and... well... Ronnie was pretty damn good at just finding the wrong crowd. She tried to tell herself that the comment about her looking like hell didn't bother her either... after all, lying to herself was another talent of hers. She slipped a hand beneath his arm and curled her fingers around his elbow, body leaning against him slightly. "So, besides picking apart my looks, what else has the Outlaw been up to?" she asked lightly, taking that jibe and throwing it back with irreverent flirtation.
Jesse tensed when she took his arm, but he didn't do anything like wrench it away. He probably should, sure, but he didn't. He drew in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "Ronnie, what do you want?" he asked, looking at her, voice lighter, so other people weren't going to overhear. "You know I hate talking to you when you're like this. And frankly, after Baby J came home the other night as upset as she was after just seeing you, you're not topping my list of people I want to deal with at all."
Really, Ronnie was pretty certain she never topped the list of people he wanted to deal with. But she didn't say that. It really wasn't a thought that made her warm and fuzzy inside. She had felt him tense, but she didn't pull her hand away. It wasn't as if he hadn't tensed at her touch before, and it also wasn't as if she hadn't been able to get him past that before either. "Nothing," she said, honest there. Or, well, she thought she was being honest there. She always had trouble scrutinizing her own motivations, especially when it came to Jesse. The man's presence had a way of getting her mind all kinds of twisted around, even when she was twisting his. "I was just walking, and I saw you. I tried walking the other way when I did, but... well, here I am." And she smiled, only it was the kind that didn't have any humor in it, and was just kinda... pathetic right now overall. "How... is she now?" she asked, composure falling through a bit, eyes dropping away as the question came out before she could think better of it. It was a shitty thing to ask, really, considering it was all her fault for how upset her daughter had been. But -- chalk it up to masochism -- Ronnie went with it anyway.
"How do you think she is? She was really upset and never wants to see you again, Ronnie. She doesn't want you seeing me anymore either. In fact, I'm pretty sure if you ceased to exist, that might be a perfect world in the eyes of our daughter." he told her. "Don't ask questions you don't really want the answers for. Unless you really do just want to be hit up with the harsh truth, so you can feel better about yourself when you go find your next hit."
"I didn't ask because of that!" she snapped, turning her head back up at him, sounding hurt and angry there. Well, more defensive. It buffered some of the pain that whole statement caused, which was a pretty significant amount, and even a moment of defensiveness didn't nothing to dull it when that moment passed. She wondered if his idea of a perfect world involved her ceasing to exist as well, but she didn't ask. Because that? She didn't want to know the answer to, especially since she was certain she already did. ...And there were some things Ronnie couldn't bear having confirmed aloud. There was the fact it would hurt too much, and there was the more selfish fact that Jesse was kind of her only lifeline. "I just... wanted to know," she admitted, eyes dropping away again. After all, with their daughter, she always wanted to know... even if inquiring about Jessie always proved masochistic on Ronnie's part.
Her eyes were now busy watching the nothing interesting going on across the street. She didn't feel at all okay, and she didn't look it, and for the moment she stopped putting much effort to pretending otherwise. It was genuine, only she wasn't sure if there were motivations for that other than honesty... it wasn't as if she didn't know his weaknesses, as if a wounded woman couldn't have Jesse falling over trying to help, as if a broken look on her hadn't gotten him doing things he knew he knew better than to do.
He sighed, and tossed the food she'd given him into the nearest trash bin, not hungry. Especially not right now. "Look, Ronnie...why don't you just head back to your hotel room, or wherever you're staying, get some sleep, and I'll just see you another time." he suggested, tone light. And he could hope that the next time he saw her he wasn't wondering if she was still on the tail end of her last high. That would be a good thing.
She watched him for a moment, feeling the awkward weight of her own food in her hand as she did so. She hadn't been hungry either -- she should have, probably -- but she hadn't. He was pushing her away. Not literally, and not for the first time, and not without good reason. But it still hurt. Which didn't help, considering she was emotionally shaky ground, and it was even shakier given she was off not feeling anything for an hour. She dropped her hand from his, eyes falling again, the flirtatious manner dropping with it and she just looked... well, tired. She was. But not in a way that sleeping would fix. She was shaky, and didn't want to be alone; and of all the people she could not be alone with, Jesse was the only one she wanted to be around... because, y'know, forcing oneself on the company of an ex who'd rather you just disappear was a fabulously healthy coping strategy. Which she was aware it wasn't but... she just kinda... needed somebody. Him. Even if he didn't need her, and kinda left his head in a place nobody needed, and a large part of her really just wished she would just do him a favor and walk away even when she opened her mouth.
"I just... it's not going so well, dealing with being alone right now," she confessed, really hating how defeated and pathetic that sounded. "And I know I've only got myself to blame," she added, kinda before he could say as such, because she figured he would... and right now? Well, she didn't think she could well handle any more blows of harsh truth from him. She already knew her misery was her own fault, she already knew she had fucked things up by walking away, she already knew that her daughter just... hated her and wished she would just disappear and that Jessie had every right to. She already knew all that, and that knowledge hurt in ways Ronnie could never hope to describe, and she just... wasn't quite up to par with hearing it all aloud, right now. Feeling the urge to reach out and touch Jesse again, she stopped her hand and shoved it awkwardly into her oversized coat. "Just... let me walk with you a bit? Please?"
You're a fucking idiot. he told himself as he already knew what his answer was going to be when she started talking about not wanting to be alone. But, as usual with him, he couldn't actually just walk away, even if that was what he wanted to do. "Fine." he said, sighing. "Where are you staying?" he asked, figuring he could get her back there, at least. Then she wouldn't be wandering the streets, anyways. That would make him feel slightly better. And maybe on the way wherever they were headed she'd clear a little more. He hated talking to her when he thought she was strung out. And right now she seemed more on the rough end of sober, but still. He could hope.
"Sunny Shores," she answered, which meant they had a bit of a walk to her own little close-as-she-got-to-it 'home'. Weirdly, she realized she didn't have to stay there. After all, she had money now from a job that paid pretty well and was pretty easy for her -- not that being good as an escort said much for her character. As long as she kept her seriously unhealthy extracurricular of work time, she was golden... which was an odd thought, because Ronnie wasn't quite used to the idea of things working out. Things rarely did -- if she wasn't finding her own way to fuck it up then something always seemed to happen to do it for her. Which is probably why she hadn't bothered moving out of Sunny Shores yet. A sort of 'why bother getting settled before things get fucked up' mentality that had certainly taken a greater hold since Founder's Day.
She glanced up at Jesse, not reaching out this time, fingers fidgeting in her pocket. "What've you been up to?" she asked, carefully, wanting to know but not wanting to risk the open shot he'd get if it was 'How've you been?'. Because that was a stupid question, with an obvious answer, that would probably sting. Such as 'how do you think I've been doing? Our daughter's upset and I'm having to deal with all this shit with you'. Or something like that.
He started them walking, and took a second to answer that. "Just...dealing with family stuff." he said. "Not much else." He didn't get into what stuff, but then he didn't know what to say to it either. He had Becky staying with them, and he didn't know how she'd feel about that, and there was the Evie bullshit, and things with JJ, and oh yeah they were moving and he still didn't quite want to tell her that. And, stupidly enough, he felt incredibly guilty over that. That he was hiding it, even if he knew it would be for the best in the long run. That just didn't make it feel like the right thing to do.
"Which family stuff? The stuff with your sister, or something else?" Ronnie asked, pressing on that subject. Because, even if his phrasing kinda made it a brush-off answer, she knew that family wasn't a brush-off topic with him. In fact, it was a topic pretty important to him; that she didn't really think there was any sort of 'just dealing', like it was no big deal, with family when it came to Jesse James. And she wanted to know, for reasons as simple as just wanting to know. And maybe for reasons more complicated, dealing with messy emotions. Or, taking any motivations out of it, there was the stark fact that -- out of the two of them -- she figured Jesse was the one who had things to talk about. Hell, Ronnie didn't even have a hobby; or anything warranting saying 'so this interesting thing happened lately' that wasn't someway and somehow detrimental. Which kinda just left her focusing the conversation onto Jesse.
"Becky found herself in trouble. You remember her, right? little Becky, Evie's friend?" Jesse said, feeling like that was an okay topic, it couldn't backlash, right? "So, I helped her out of it. But it's kind of messy, so I've taken her in for a while." he admitted. "She had to go somewhere and there wasn't anywhere else, and she needs someplace safe right now." And he was an overprotective son of a bitch, so his place was a good place to be safe.
Ronnie wasn't jealous. Well, actually, she totally was. She hadn't always been -- but that was back when her and Jesse were together, and their relationship was solid, and she just hadn't been the walking mess of full-blown insecurities she was now... certainly not with unfounded and stupid ideas that Jesse was ever with someone else. But that wasn't the case now. Their relationship was the opposite of solid, and unhealthy, and Jesse had been with other people... and been engaged twice since then. So, yes, she got jealous. And she totally went about said jealousy in various subversive, passive aggressive, covert aggressive, and just-other-ways-to-say-'manipulative' manners. And, although even Ronnie herself knew better than to get any idea of Jesse getting cozy with one of his baby sister's friends, there was still a twinge of jealousy. Jealousy of a person who was accepted into that apartment, her family's home, where Jesse and her no-longer-any-kind-of-baby baby girl lived and she... well, wasn't. Not at all. And it was all her fault, she knew that, but that didn't change the sting... or that little bit of a jealousy. And... wait, what? Becky was staying in that tiny apartment for some indeterminate while?
"Must be cramped," she commented, trying to keep the hurt and jealousy (that she had no right to anyway) out of her voice and not entirely succeeding. "You sleeping on the floor again?" Because she knew he would do that -- hell, it wouldn't be the first time -- and little things like not really having room didn't stop Jesse from being a hero.
Jesse heard it. He'd heard it before in her voice, though it honestly hadn't occurred to him that it would kick up with Becky. But then again, he guessed, she wasn't a child anymore. She was a consenting adult, at the end of the day. Not that they were consenting. Or not with each other, anyways. "No, we're sharing the couch, what do you think?" he asked, actually lightly amused, a half smile quirking at the corner of his mouth. "Of course I'm sleeping on the floor."
Ronnie gave him a Look at that, one that said 'We Are Not Amused', but that little half-smile of his took away any attempted gravity there. She liked it when he smiled -- he didn't really do that kind of thing too much around her. ...Granted, she kinda gave him plenty of reasons for that, even when she was explicitly trying not to. So, it tended to take her a little aback when his smile -- even a half one -- popped up. Maybe because it reminded her when they smiled pretty easily around each other; or maybe because, well, there were feelings there that never really went away on her end and they kinda got kicked up a little when he smiled. So she looked surprised for a brief moment, but it wasn't like his smiling was an unwelcome one, and she gave a little half-smile of her own. "Maybe I thought you'd try the coffee table," she replied, bantering, for a moment tone warm and light-hearted in a way she shouldn't be feeling, "y'know, be adventurous."
"Naw, it's a piece of shit, I'd break it. I'm too heavy. It barely supports the cat." Jesse said, going with that lighter tone. It was easier than going with the rougher things, it was something he'd rather do. Even if he was spending time with someone he didn't especially want to spend time with. That just wasn't the point right now. He was here, so he might as well make the best of it. "So it's the floor for me. It's not like I haven't done it before."
"The cat?" she asked, because there hadn't been any sort of pets last she heard of. Then again, a lot of things could have happened a long time ago and she wouldn't have heard of them -- if at all -- for a while. "Funny. Never would have pegged you as a cat-person," she teased, amused, inadvertently leaning in and up toward his ear for a moment to say it. She really hadn't meant to, but it just... kinda fell from habit. And, with the light-hearted banter kinda bringing her back to older days, the habits and flirtatious repetoire were incredibly easy to fall back into. Like teasing him, when he amused her. Because she really wouldn't have thought him a cat-person. And just... the picture of Jesse and a cat just struck her as amusement-worthy in her mind right now.
"It's not my cat." he said, since it wasn't, even if he and Leo got along alright. And maybe when no one was around he would take to petting him. "I'm still more of a dog person..." he didn't mention that he and Becky had had a long discussion about dogs and she was probably going to get one... He did notice what she did there, getting that little bit closer but it, as usual with her, felt natural. So it was a fleeting sort of knowledge, not one that actively presented itself.
So it was Jessie's cat. Which is what Ronnie figured. Although, unlike with Jesse, Ronnie just couldn't picture her daughter with a cat. She could picture Jesse doing nearly anything -- even things he wouldn't really do -- and it was easy for her mind to play it out like a movie, like watching it play out, because she generally knew what he would do. She knew him. But she didn't know her daughter, and -- even if Ronnie could picture Jessie's features perfectly (although usually outdated) she just... couldn't picture her daughter. Not her actions, or her mannerisms, or anything of that sort that other mothers knew. Which was a sad bit of knowledge, with a sting, that she pushed off for a moment... because moments like this with Jesse were short-lived enough, and she didn't want to make it shorter. "I can picture you with a dog," Ronnie admitted, keeping with the lighter topics, even if her tone had lost some carelessness. "It's like picturing a kid, really. Especially with a big one, that you could rough-house with. It'd be like the brother you never had," she finished, even managing a wide grin at that, if a brief one.
He laughed. "yeah, I would probably like that." he admitted. It also probably wouldn't happen, but he could imagine it. "And harrassing a dog would be fun. Get it to flip out and run around the place full tilt, barking and doing tricks and playing fetch and tug of war...yeah. I could like having a big dog." he decided with a nod. "But probably not going to happen, so I have to deal with Leo instead."
If a half-smile had an affect on her, then hearing him laugh was incredibly more effective. Really, it had her feeling all kinds of dangerously warm and fuzzy on the inside. In a way that was genuinely unbidden on her part, both innocent and not-so-innocent with those warm and fuzzies, and she thought was really more unhealthy than when things were at their rockiest between them. But it felt natural to go with it; and to walk closer without thinking, in way that occasionally had arms bumping even if she managed to keep the hand that wanted to loop through his firmly in her pocket. "Well, I think cats can be harassed and flip out to, if you have to settle," she was facing forward, but cast him a wry sideways glance, "As long as your brave enough to face claws."
"Oh they can. I have in fact, driven that cat to fits." Jesse admitted. "But he keeps coming back for more, so I'm forced to assume that he likes it." he said, that sort of natural charm shining through in the statement. "And I've been clawed but I'm tough. I could take it." he told her, and with the way they were, he dropped a wink before he could even consider otherwise.
"Well aren't you a regular hero," she cooed, aware that this had officially passed into the territory of flirtation, but it really only hitting her mind as a sidenote. "Nice to know there are big tough guys like you out there showing those sado-masochistic cats what's what." And by the end of that statement her hand had somehow found its way again looped through Jesse's arm, and Ronnie really didn't think she deserved all the blame on that one. It wasn't as if she had the greatest track record with self-control, and temptations; and she had really had actually tried! She had kept that hand in her pocket, at least. But if Jesse was going to be all charming and winking like that... it wasn't like she hadn't been madly in love with the man once. And again, not the greatest track record with self-control. "And now I know who to call about those troublesome cats outside the building... they've really been quite wicked to me."
And that was when he should pull away, because he blatantly noticed that time. But they were almost to her motel anyways, and if he did, it would just make it all the more awkward. So, he let it ride for the moment. "Yeah, I'm sure the world's a much better place with me around." he said, smirking and shaking his head. "But I'm afraid you're going to have to deal with your cat problem on your own. Show them who's boss."
"Of course the world's a better place with you around," she retorted, sidestepping his last comment. She was avoiding. She knew that. She was definitely avoiding. There was her encounter with their daughter, and the fact that she was incredibly detrimental to him. And seeing him always left her feeling all kinds of fucked up inside herself. And there were Issues between them. None of which were being alluded to in this banter. She was avoiding. And that wasn't healthy. ...But if avoiding involved flirting with Jesse and having him flirt back? Then Ronnie was currently for avoiding to all hell. "You handle crazy cats where others fear to tread and you keep floors warm. I don't think other people could say half as much."
"You're too kind." he told her, looking up at the Shores as they started towards her usual unit. He was assuming she never got a different place, any time he'd seen her there in the past fifteen years or so it had been the same place. with the same shitty art on the walls, the same cigarette burn on the rug by the door. And it had him looking at her out of the corner of his eye, wondering if she was going to ask him in. Which led to him thinking about what happend or nearly happened last time he'd gone in.
Her mind was in the same place as his, really. About last time, and the rawness from it that hadn't gone away, and whether she would or should invite him in. She shouldn't. She really shouldn't. It was a bad idea, and it wasn't fair to him. And invite him in... for what, outside the obvious? She didn't have anything to drink, other than water. And she sure as hell didn't have any food. Hell, he had thrown away the food she gave him earlier, and she had only taken a bite of what was in her hand. So, really, there wasn't much of anything to invite him in for. And she didn't want a repeat of last time. And why do something that was just going to leave her hurt if he rejected the invitation or end with both their heads fucked if he didn't? She didn't say much else as they headed up and, to her very meager credit, she really didn't know what she'd do until they were standing there. She knew how to play and push the man, she often did, but she rarely truly intended to fuck with him.
In fact, she was even telling herself to just end this on as close to a good note as they got and just say goodbye and walk into the room and close the door behind her. She really, really was. Until they were there. And she was angling her head up to look at him, and asked a question. "Come in for a glass of water?" Not 'do you want a glass of water?', because she knew the answer to that. Then, a little touch of a teasing half-smile that wasn't so easy as it had been before they got there added, "Please?"
He was going to say no. Had even started the articulation but then she said 'please' and he came out with the opposite. "Alright." he said, instead of 'no, I have to get going'. That had been what he'd intended to say, but yeah, that just didn't happen, did it. fucking idiot. But he headed inside with her, again assaulted with her, and their past, things they'd done that they shouldn't now and then. Things he shouldn't be thinking about at all and yet did just about every fucking time he laid eyes on her.
She kicked off her shoes, placed her food on the small table and took her coat off, tossing it onto a nearby wooden chair, before going to get any water. She really didn't need to do that last one. Sure, the weather was nice and comfortable outside. But Ronnie had always been a bit of a small woman, who tended to feel a chill before most, even before drugs. And over the years she got colder quicker, and lately had gotten a bit smaller, that had Jesse not come in she would have just kept her coat on. But he had come in, so she had shrugged off her coat before she had time to even plan doing it before making her way to the dresser and grabbing two glasses. She could have said something doing it, but she didn't especially trust herself to open her mouth right now, so Ronnie at least figured she could commit to not causing anymore trouble in the time it took to get water. Delay the inevitable. Only the sink was visible from outside the bathroom door, and she always had a way of casually leaning over that made men notice... and she had to bend down a little to turn the faucets, right?
And Jesse noticed. But then he was bound to, even if he knew that it was manipuation, he'd actively been looking for it because he knew she'd do it. And while he would prefer if she had more meat on her bones, there was still part of him that found her attractive. He walked up behind her, and almost reached out to touch her back but in the end didn't, instead leaning against the wall, silently. Turning and walking out right now is the plan. Ready? Go. Now. Two seconds ago.
She was aware of where he was; she didn't need to turn her head or even glance into the cracked glass of the mirror to know that. She was just aware of him, standing there. And, sure, she could have turned the faucets on all the way to fill the glasses up faster. But... well, she didn't. And when they were filled she took one in her hand and turned around, leaning lightly against the sink counter with glass in hand. She watched him for a moment, smiling lightly despite herself, appreciating that picture there. "Here," she offered softly, albeit not really holding the glass out to him. Granted, in the tiny bathroom, it wasn't as if he was that far to begin with. But she wanted him closer. And, even if she wasn't being overt about it, she did him the courtesy of not really trying to disguise the intentions. Jesse wasn't an idiot. Or, well, granted some would say that him stepping in was probably pretty idiotic... but he wasn't dumb. Or oblivious. And really trying to fake something he wouldn't believe was just... insulting, at this point. So the intention showed. Not overtly, but in the little things: her eyes, the corners of the smile, the slight curve of the hip when she leaned.
There was a continuing mantra in the back of his head that he was stupid. Because yeah, she wasn't being coy or anything, was she. But he still stepped closer to take the glass from her, even if he didn't even take a drink from it. "I should probably go." he said, tone a little quieter than it had been a moment ago. That was an effort to leave, right?
Ronnie watched his eyes for a moment, mood and demeanor soft despite his comment. "Probably," she admitted, stepping forward a bit that she had to angle her head up at him, voice even quieter than his that it was really closer to whispering. If she had heard that in front of the door it would have stung. But he had come in, and come into the bathroom, and had stepped closer for the glass; and, again, Jesse may have done stupid shit in his life? But he wasn't an oblivious man. So the quiet statement there didn't leave her feeling any sting of desperation. Because, for a man who had come in for a glass of water, he didn't seem especially thirsty. So she took another small step, and rose slightly onto her toes, and kissed him softly on the mouth. Kind of before any unlikely sanity could hit him and send him out the door. But there was nothing forceful about the kiss -- just a gentle press of her lips against his -- except for that, well, she didn't bother pulling away.
He wasn't stupid. And when she went in for the kiss he knew what she was doing before their lips met, and he just...didn't stop her. Which was the idiot part of the equation. But it had actually been a long time since he'd been kissed. Since he'd had any real interest in anyone. And while he wasn't actually interested in Ronnie, not in a relationship sense, there was all that history. And the fact that he had never been very good at resisting her. He could when it counted, but not with everything else. He could keep her out of his life for the most part, but there were slip ups. Like right now, when he kissed her back, knowing that after it was through he should leave, but also understanding he probably wouldn't. At least, not yet.
She let herself feel the pressure of his mouth against hers, just... enjoying that, for a bit, before she made any other kind of move. She wanted to take her time, because there was always an unpleasant rawness that happened after, and she wanted to delay that. But there was also the rawness right now... that neediness that wanted to go straight to the clinging, to the pressing of bodies and movement of hands, that really didn't want to wait. Because she was lonely. Because there were feelings. Because she was hurting. Because she didn't have any hobbies, and realized how pathetic that was. Because it had been a long time -- not for the act itself, but since it had any kind of meaning. Because with Jesse it always had meaning, ...even if it was a fucked up one. So there was that desperation and neediness and rawness that just wasn't going to settle for nothing more than a gentle kiss forever. And she moved, adjusting herself a little into a slightly better fit against him, bringing one hand up to his neck -- fingers tracing light circles at the nape of it -- while the other freed his own hand from the water she had just offered, placing the glass down behind her.
He didn't stop her from taking the glass back from him either. He didn't stop anything she was doing, and instead he found himself deepening the kiss, and taking a step back to push her back onto the countertop. It was officially the stupidest move he'd made in quite a long time, but it was what felt natural. That was always the problem with her. At the time everything like this always felt like it was the thing to do, that it was just the way it was meant to go, the natural conclusion. And it really wasn't, this was the woman who'd done a whole lot to trash his life so often, hurt their daughter, left her family...yeah there was a whole lot of mess there, just when he was in this position, it was like the wires weren't connected correctly.
The push sent the glass off-balance, tipping over, though thankfully rolling back into the sink basin. It was cheaply made, and she thought she heard a crack, but that didn't really register until she felt some of the water soak into her dress. ...And that only registered for a moment, because she really didn't care. She was busy adjusting her position, moving the hand that had taken the glass away into his hair, slightly pulling him closer, running the fingers against the scalp and then progressing onto light tugging at various intervals. Her other hand remained at the nape of his neck, fingers now moving in figure eights in that area, letting the small pressure of nails draw against the skin. She was careful, though; aiming for pleasure, not pain. And -- with her experience -- her aim was spot-on.
Jesse exhaled a soft sound into the kiss, and he completely didn't pay any attention to the glass, or if it broke, or if there was water spilling down onto the floor. That was not registering. What was registering was just her, and all those little things she did that always drove him a little crazy but in the right way. She made such a habit of driving him crazy in general, and usually they were all kinds of wrong, but it wasn't like she didn't know how to push his buttons either. She knew those well. He only broke the kiss when he needed to breathe, and he tried to pull back, knowing he needed to. He didn't want to but he needed to.
There was a reflexive reaction when he moved to pull back, a flinch-like split-second tightening of her grip, that she would have stilled had she had warning of it. That neediness was there, storming within her, and it didn't want to let go. Yes, he needed to go. But Ronnie's rationality just... wasn't cooperating right now damnit. The movement when he tried to pull back got her hands away from his neck and hair, but it really just placed one on his upper arm and the other on his shoulder, where it was really just so easy and natural for her fingers to trace along his silohouette, to move back up and toward a collarbone, one hooking lightly into his shirt. "Don't go," her voice was soft, husky after the kiss, urging the request before she could think on it; ...or maybe that was just begging. Either way, she hated the way it sounded, pathetic to her ears with that needy peeking through in a way she wasn't proud of.
"You know I have to." Jesse said, tone light, quieter than he wanted it to be, and there was a note of regret to it that he didn't like much either. But it was there, and even he could hear it, so he was sure she would pick up on it. He also noticed that he didn't move farther back. He should be moving back, it would be much more helpful in getting himself out of here, but he just...didn't. Shit. And he wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to feel that. Her.
Yes, she knew he had to. And if she were a better a woman she would have let him. She would have removed her hands from him, and pulled back (well, as far back as she could, which was maybe an inch) and let him go. And a part of her wanted to. A part of her really, really wanted to. Wanted to prove to herself and to him that she could be that woman, that in some way there was hope for her; that she could do what was best for him and probably both of them and back off. But she also heard that regret in his voice, and noticed how he didn't move further away. And a thought hit her, and it and his action (or lack of) now provided such an opening, that her hands didn't drop away. And she found herself inching closer amidst the inner urging to be that Better Woman for her and him. And she was angling her head up again, bringing it forward, letting her slightly ragged breath brush against his skin: "Do you have somewhere to be right now?" she asked quietly, voice still carrying that husky tone, eyes glancing upwards at him with a light smile as she rested her head against his collarbone. "Or were you not just walking around when I came across you?"
Actually I was looking for a house to move into with Baby J and Becky and pets and it was going to be something I never even mentioned to you which I'm now feeling guilty about about as much as I am about kissing you in the first place. went through his mind but he didn't say it. "It's not about that." he said, tone light, even if he shifted more towards her, the direct opposite of discouraging which was what he should be doing. "You know it's not about time." It was about them. And the fact that every time they made the slip up, everything was really awful for a while.
Yes, she knew it wasn't about that. She knew very well that it wasn't about that, and what it really was about. And again he was right. Or, well, his words were. Because he had shifted closer, and she wasn't doing anything to discourage that when he did -- despite a flimsy hope that she might suddenly change tracks in the middle of this and Do The Right Thing. And when he shifted she brought her hand up to his neck, thumb stroking absently along his jawline -- an old habit of hers that just felt natural with the way they were... even if it didn't fit the conversation. Of all the things that had initially appealed to her, probably the oddest had been his jawline. She had always admired it, and her fingers had always found it impossible not to trace the edges of. So she did that, and shifted her head to fit more snugly beneath his while she was at it. And she just stayed there for a quiet moment before breaking it.
"Don't go," she urged again; it was still quiet, albeit more needy than last time. And internally she winced at it. "Please." And it really, truly sounded like she meant it. Because she did. The feeling in her voice was genuine; but she still hated it. She hated showing it when she should have been strong and not said it at all, and she hated showing it because... well, it wasn't as if it didn't play to one of Jesse's glaring weak points. But she at least spared him verbally conceding (or her being denied) by using the hand on his jaw to angle his head into another kiss.
It really did play against that key manipulation point with him. He was a man with weaknesses and that was one of them. He hated even the idea of a woman in distress, and regardless of the fact that he knew better, it didn't matter. Like the second he'd found out about Becky's situation, he'd done something about it, and he was still invested there, too. And right now, with her there, sounding like she did, like she needed him, it was even more difficult to pull away. So when she kissed him again, he returned it. It always wound up like that. So often this same scenario had played out in one way or another. He just didn't have a proper defense against it.
There was still that part that wanted to take her time. But, really, with him almost pulling away like that it wasn't really an option. She pressed against him, in a way that firmly felt let each other feel the wrinkles of clothing and every contour of skin beneath it. She broke the kiss -- or, well, more like the kiss traveled. To his neck, to his ear, nose nuzzling there before not even moving an inch to again fixate on that jawline she really had an odd fascination for. And the hand on the other side of his jaw trailed down, fingers curling into his waistband and loosening the belt there. She had to back away a near inch to accomplish that, and for a moment let her fingers brush against the front of the pants, before opting to travel them back up the way they came... only now beneath his shirt. Making sure she got to that point before any other bouts of sanity could interrupt again.
Jesse made a quiet sound, mind sort of slipping away faster than he would have liked it. He needed that, it needed to tell him this was stupid, and was only going to suck later, and he really needed to leave. That it wasn't going to do anything but hurt. But that was a distant sort of voice in his head, what she was doing was a lot clearer. And maybe, just a tiny little part of him was thinking that this would be the last time. He'd move, she'd not be able to find him, and he'd just...never see her again. They'd finally be over.
There was a little smile, one she couldn't help, at that sound. It wasn't just from pleasure at drawing it out, but a little surge of triumph. Triumph that she could do that, still; triumph that he was staying. But little smiles were hard to keep up when the mouth had more important things to do beside smiling. Like catching his mouth again with hers, she liked doing that. And pressing further into him, one hand busy traveling its mischief beneath his shirt. The other hand only falling from him for a moment to place his own around her. Oddly enough, there was a part of her that wanted to talk... to say something. But she was paranoid of breaking the mood.
When she placed his hand, he did the next natural thing that went with it, he slid it over her back, downwards, towards her hip where he drew her closer to the edge of the counter, closer to him. Those warning bells in the back of his mind were kicking back up again, but it was a little like it was coming from another room. Just...not filtering in like it was meant to. Instead, he kept doing what he was doing, he kept kissing her, he pushed against her once he pulled her in close, and that was taking precedence over intelligence.
Ronnie let out an appreciative moan there, her own thoughts and plans kind of going out the window. There had been the idea to take things slow, to take time, move things to the bed... and even before that the plan not to get into any of this. But none of that was happening right now as one hand peeled away what she could of his shirt and the other traveled down, and down further... until her fingers wrapped around him, stroking him there eyes glancing into his with a look that was as positively wicked and mischievous as if there had never been anything wrong to begin with.
He wasn't even connecting the fact that she had gone from down to touching him in short order. It wasn't like he hadn't seen it before. It wasn't like he didn't know she played him. Hell, he was even aware of it right then, it just didn't matter to him like it should. It would later. He'd feel like total shit later, and probably have a few really bad days where he just kicked himself for even giving her the time of day. For caring enough to walk her home. To get drawn in even if he knew what was really happening. That just...didn't matter in those moments. It didn't matter, and all he could really do was kiss her. Kiss her like she'd never walked out of his life in the first place. And that was the problem with them. The real, deep down problem. He could do that, when they were like this, when everything else fell away, it was like everything in him just recognized it all so well that it just stopped concentrating on what was important. Instead, it just responded to her, regardless of how fucking toxic she was for him. It wasn't that he still loved her. It was just something in him still responded to her. Now was no different, as he pulled back only after a moan, and he started to pull at her dress. And then it got to seem like it was too much work and instead he just yanked at her panties.
Ronnie lifted herself up a little, not in any mood to hinder him in that. Once her panties hit the floor her hands pushed down at his pants, but then she let the task be finished by her legs, catching the fabric with a pointed (and now very useful) heel and dragging it down. After all, her hands had more important things to do. Like wander all over him, tracing over the same map of skin they've traced over time and time before. Knowing where to apply pressure, where to give a whisper of touch, where to lightly drag her nails across him and where to dig them in. She knew it all was if it wasn't months between them seeing each other. Hell, she probably knew his body better than she knew her own. There was such an intoxicating familiarity in it, one something inside her was desperately craving right now, that she just let herself focus on that and let the rest fall away. And it was there, broadcasting through her actions in a way she'd probably drink over later, an all-consuming neediness and clingyness in her movements that was hell-bent on pulling him closer and pressing against him like she never stopped belonging there.
Jesse pulled her skirt up high enough to be out of the way, then pulled her right to the end of the counter, almost off of it, but not quite. He kissed her again, roughly, before he finished off damning himself for the day. It was going to be the last time, but for real this time. He'd move, she'd just not know where he went, and it was a big city to get lost in. He'd be gone, she'd be gone, and this could just be...goodbye. ...Just a very intimate goodbye. Or that was what he told himself as he pushed inside, a shudder going through him like it always did in that first moment.
A small noise escaped her, quickly changing to a light moan that vibrated through the kiss. She moved one hand to his shoulder, pulling him in closer and using him for support to arch up a little more to deepen the contact. Ronnie could be passive as hell in some areas of her life, but she wasn't a passive partner -- not when she was interested. And an unhealthy level of attraction to the ex she walked out on definitely counted as interest. So, although the position may not have seemed to give much, Ronnie was pretty happy to set her mind and body to proving that wrong. And focus on Jesse -- his breathing, his movement, his smell, and that dangerously deceptive familiarity that made it all seem... right, and natural. When it was all kinds of horribly not.
Jesse was wrapped up in it all, still aware that there was part of himself that was deciding that it was all just that goodbye. That this was it, the last time, so he was going to make it count. And that was what drove him, let him forget absolutely everything else but her then. He also let it drive his passion, putting a hard abandon into everything he was doing, wanting her to do more than just make those light noises. He wanted a lot more than that. He wanted the neighbors to know she was a happy woman tonight.