A hand fumbled for the screaming phone at his bedside table, swiping and groggily trying to grasp it with fingers that felt like rebellious snakes bending and contorting at all sorts of different angles. The obnoxious tone had started to replay itself by the time he finally grabbed the phone and swiped at it with one eye cracked open, pressing it to his ear and burrowing partially under the sheets again.
"Yeah?" He rasped.
"C-Can 'ou come an' pick me up?"
Slurred words came through the speaker and slithered into his mind, waking him from his stupor as he sat upright and tossed the sheets away. It was a voice he was all too familiar with, but it had been months since he'd heard it as clearly intoxicated as it was.
"Yeah, let me get dressed." He was already half stumbling from the bed and rummaging through drawers, phone cradled between ear and shoulder as he worked his way into pants and plucked up the first clean shirt he could find. "Where are you?" There were voices in the background of the call as the woman mumbled out something unintelligible, and a moment later a male voice came on the phone.
"You need to come and get your friend now before the police end up coming to get her instead. She's already broken a glass and fallen on her face, caused quite a scene. You've got about twenty minutes until we close, so I hope you're close." A groan, and he got the information needed from who he presumed, and really hoped, was the bartender before he hung up and finished dressing.
"Fucking two o'clock in the goddamn morning. What were you thinking, Rain?" He shook his head and grabbed his wallet and keys, locking up the house and making haste to the car before taking off in the direction of the bar. Twenty minutes was more than enough time to get there, but his primary concern was how much trouble his friend could get into in the ten minutes it was going to take him to get there. If there was talk of the police showing up at the bar... Well, this was looking like a repeat of the last time she'd broken her sobriety, and bailing her out of jail again wasn't something he could financially stand to keep doing.
The duration of the ride was silent until he pulled up in front of the well-lit bar he only vaguely remembered from prior visits, but by the time he got out of the car he could practically feel the vibrations of the music playing from inside. The sudden wave of dread that washed over him as he entered the bar should have been expected, but his sleep muddled brain mixed with the adrenaline of what might have happened during the drive was doing a number on him, creating a sinking stone of anxiety at war with the desperate desire to crawl back into bed and pretend this never happened.
"Devonnnnnnn!" He'd no sooner gotten near the counter itself when he heard the click and clack of heels against the music, arms thrown around his neck as he inhaled sharply and caught the stumbling brunette who had plowed into him. "I'm so glad you're heeeeere, we shoul' get a drink!" His brow creased as he watched her plaster herself to his front, casting an apologetic look over her head to what he presumed was the very grumpy looking bartender.
"Rain, you're not even supposed to be here. You were six months sober, what the fuck?" Her face contorted into an expression of annoyance as she stabbed a finger into his chest and swayed in his arms, pouting at him and trying to slither her way away back to the bar.
"No, we're leaving. Your ass is going to sleep this off on my couch and we're going to talk about it in the morning." Six months down the drain, and for what? A part of him wondered if he should have left her there for the police to deal with, but the other part of him ached with the knowledge that he couldn't leave her to fend for herself when he had such deep feelings for her. There had been a faint hope that this time the sobriety would be true and lasting, that perhaps there was a chance for the two of them to have a real life together where he wasn't holding her hair back as she cradled the toilet seat, or feeding her crackers one by one as she tried to work off the nausea from a wicked hangover.
"You're ridiculous for wearing those things." Not to say that the heels didn't make her legs look absolutely fantastic, but it was hard to appreciate that when they were wobbling from trying to stand drunkenly on five-inch heels. "We don't have time for this, hold onto your bag." Devon hooked an arm under her knees and hefted her up and against him, nodding his thanks to the bartender and slinking out of the bar with a still protesting Rain in his arms.
"Stop flailing about, you're going to flash everyone your underwear in that ridiculous thing you call a dress. Seriously, you look like you're wearing an oversized shirt that barely covers your ass."
"Not wearin' any underwear." He groaned at the mental images that assaulted his mind and unlocked the car, dumping her into the front seat and rounding to the driver's as he adjusted his pants awkwardly. Now was not the time to be getting hard for the girl he was hopelessly in love with, but trying to control his cock at two o'clock in the morning after a lonnnnnnng dry spell was difficult to say the least.
"Stop messing with the buttons." He chided the drunk woman as he got in and started the car, nudging her hand away from the radio she'd been trying to turn on despite the car not being ready yet. "I don't want to listen to the radio. It's late and I got woken up from a dead sleep, I just want silence until we get back."
"Don't be so lammmme, Devon, I just wan' some music. Can I sleep in your bed tonight?"
"Sure, whatever, I'll take the couch." If it would shut her up long enough for him to concentrate on the drive home without getting hard again, he'd gladly give up his bed.
"No, I wanna sleep wiiiiiith you, Devon!"
So much for not getting hard.
"Rain, knock it off, quit talking about sleeping in my bed and not wearing underwear. There's only so much a guy can take, you know." He rubbed at his face with an irritated sigh and glanced over at her, watching the several seconds it took before she registered what he meant and her eyes dropped to his lap.
"Oh my god Dev, are you hard?!"
"Babe, you're talking about no underwear and sleeping with me, and you know how I feel about you. What did you expect? Just... Sit there and be quiet, okay? I'll get you some water when we get back, and you can sleep in my bed tonight. Just don't throw up in there, the last time you did that it took me a week to get the smell out." He made a face at the memory and turned a corner sharply, bumping the curb and cursing at himself.
Mercifully, Rain had deferred to his request and was mostly silent the rest of the way back, staring out the window and occasionally mumbling things to herself he couldn't quite make out, although he probably didn't want to know. He just needed to get her inside, into some of his clothes so there was no morning flashing when he went to check on her, and wait for her to pass out so he could stop worrying.
Ten minutes later he had the house securely locked up and a pair of pajama pants and a shirt on the bed, watching Rain bolt to the bathroom the moment he'd helped her get those ridiculous heels off. It wasn't ten seconds later when he heard the telltale sign of vomiting followed by a moan, leaving him sitting on the edge of the bed as he waited for it to pass.
"I think I got it in my hair." Well, that was just bloody great. He'd hoped to just be able to dress her and put her in bed with a bucket beside it, but if it was in her hair he couldn't have that stinking up the bed and pillow. "Yeah, it's defin.. defitnit.. My hair's gross." He listened to her stumbling over her words before she dry heaved again, hands pressed to his eyes as he contemplated why he was putting himself through this again. How many times had this done this song and dance over the last few years? How many times had he rescued her from bars or boyfriend's houses when she was too drunk to stand?
Loving this woman was a losing game.
"Don't move, I'll be right there." He sighed and drug himself into the bathroom, looking at the clumps of what had undoubtedly been very colorful drinks earlier in the night, now stuck to her normally lovely hair he'd imagined grabbing one too many times.
"Let's get that dress off of you, okay? I'll throw it in the wash and you can wear some of my clothes." Once he'd gotten the shower started and at a decent temperature, he helped to pull that pathetic excuse of a dress up and over her head, trying to keep his eyes away from the bare skin underneath. Not only had she not worn underwear, but her tits were out and about now, perky and a perfect size to grab if they'd been in any other situation.
"Into the shower. You can sit on the floor in there and I'll wash your hair so we can get you to bed." This wasn't his first rodeo doing it with her, but something felt different about this time, as he sat on the floor beside the shower and combed his fingers through her hair, lathering it with shampoo and conditioner until he'd gotten it back to a silky feel that slid easily through his fingers. This time felt more like a last time, like he'd come to the realization that he couldn't keep doing this no matter how much he cared about her. She needed help, real help that he couldn't give her no matter how desperately he wished he could save her from her own demons.
"Come on, let's get you dried off and into bed." After some minor stumbling and a false alarm for another round of puking, Devon had her dried off to the best of his ability and tucked into the bed with a bucket beside it. Her vomit covered dress went in the washer with some dirty towels he needed washed anyway, then he wandered out to the living room and sank into the couch with a weary sigh.
How in the hell was he supposed to give her the ultimatum of getting help or losing him when she woke up? How was he supposed to follow through with it and not fall into the depths of depression in her absence? The thought of losing her was agonizing, but the thought of doing this for another number of years, watching her tear herself apart over and over again was going to break him.
"Girl, you are an addiction." He muttered to himself. "I don't know how much more I have to give, but this is... Fuck, I always feel like I'm losing."
Loving her is going to make me lose myself.