So after a bit of haitus, I come back and hit you with...SNATCH. Possibly the best movie evar.
Rated mostly for language. Some slash, but nothing to scream about. I'm not here to write porn for you.
For all the non-Brits...'pissed' is equal to 'drunk'. I'm such a savvy American, I know.
The 'office' looked even more pathetic than usual, and after it'd gone all to shit there wasn't much more anyone could do about it. Gorgeous hadn't fought in a while, and it wasn't like the arcade was rolling in the cash. None of us were exactly jumping to fix up the caravan. I didn't much want to be there, not on Christmas eve, but I sure as hell wasn't going to spend the night with my family. Hoping there was enough booze for me to crash, I forced open the caravan door and stepped in. I saw Tommy jump around and start to examine the walls as if he weren't just waiting around in office because nobody else liked him.
"Whatchya up to Tommy?"
"Oh, I didn't see you there."
"Tommy, I saw you look straight at me."
"Oh." There was an awkward pause until Tommy broke the silence by sucking his cheeks in. I hate when he does that, he does it so damn loud I don't even know the point of it.
"So what're you doing here?"
"I dunno. Where's Gorgeous?"
"I guess he has some sort of obligation." That's what he'd told me, anyway. Well, more like he said he 'needed ta do some shit', but it doesn't really matter.
"So it's just us, I guess?" I can never tell if Tommy's excited or worried when he asks a question. Maybe it's because when he does get excited, he gets all jittery and stuttery, like he's some little kid. He's a strange one, Tommy is. I glanced around the office, remembering that at one time in my life I had counted down the minutes to this day, and my eyes landed on a short box on the table.
"Whatchya got there Tommy?"
"Oh, I got a pie. Figured it'd be nice to have something sweet for the holiday."
"Well look at you, Tommy. Maybe there's some use for you after all." He smirked, exhaling sharply. I picked up the box. "Come on, we can go back to my flat. I've got some discs and booze, it'll be a party. This place is depressing the shit out of me."
It didn't take long for us to murder the pie. It was some sort of berries, Tommy said. Leave it to Tommy to not know what the hell he's buying. I never understood putting fruit into pie, but that didn't stop me from ramming it down my throat. Chasing it down with milk just made the whole experience far more delightful.
"Why're you always drinking milk?"
"It tastes good. Besides, it doesn't seem right to be drinking gin with pie, does it?"
Tommy. Like I care what he thinks about my choice in beverage. In all honesty milk just takes me back to when I was a kid, I drank it all the damn time. Things were okay then. I just like to have a little bit of five-year-old Turkish with me, just to keep me from diving in front of the bus. The phone interrupted my remeniscing, but I returned my attention to stuffing my face.
"Aren't you going to answer that?"
I cocked an eyebrow at Tommy and took a sip of milk. The machine took the call.
"Turkish? It's your mum. I...I was just checking in. I guess you're busy. Well, if you want to stop by tonight or tomorrow, you're always welcome. I hope you're taking care of yourself. It seems your work's just taken over your life. Call us at the house when you get a chance."
A muffled click and my mother was gone. Tommy started sucking in his cheeks again, letting out a breath with a whistle. As I finished the last drops in the carton, I realized how often Tommy messed around with his mouth. I didn't care all that much, I guess. He always did it when there wasn't anyone talking, like he was afraid of everything being silent for more than five seconds. It wasn't being nervous; he'd sit with his tail between his legs when I shouted at him, but he never did anything with his face other than grimace a bit. Maybe he was happier with being whipped than being silent. I decided to mess with him a bit.
"Be back in a tic."
I shoved my chair back and strolled off into the bathroom. The only good thing about having a flat the size of a shoebox is being able to hear from any spot. Tommy started up noisemaking as soon as I'd shut the door, though this time he resorted to tapping his glass on the edge of the table. I don't know how hard he was going along until I heard an anxious 'fuck!' on the heels of shattering. The sound of Tommy scurrying about almost made me piss myself, because I knew exactly how he would've looked. Poor Tommy wasn't given much grace or form. Once his antics subsided, I returned to the kitchen, trying to disguise laughter by coughing a bit, but I was never much of an actor and Tommy looked pretty sore.
"Where the hell'd you go?"
"I had to take a piss, what're you my mother?"
"Speakin' of, why don't you spend the holidays with your family?"
"Because," I picked up a shard of glass from underneath my chair, smirking as Tommy chewed on his lower lip, "if you ever met my family you wouldn't want to spend the holidays with them either. For Christ's sake they named me Turkish. Plus they're always asking me about my work, and it just doesn't seem right lyin' to your family on little Jesus' birthday, now does it?"
"So what d'you tell them you do?"
"I just mention the arcade. Say I do a few odd jobs on the side. It doesn't matter, you want me to put on some music?"
"Nah, just some more to drink." Tommy, much as he hated silence, wasn't a big music fan. Never put on the radio in the car, never hummed or whistled. Tommy could be a complex bugger. Still, I felt like I knew all his odd little quirks and fears despite our relatively short partnership. Strange thought. Once I'd gotten another bottle of booze, Tommy immediately attacked it, something he did after he'd had a few. Tommy didn't drink too often, considering his lack of control on anything else in his life.
"Ah, Tommy I feel bad. I never got you something for Christmas this year."
"S'alright, you took me out for my birthday."
Tommy's face darkened a bit in contrast with the memory. I thought I'd given him a treat, taking him to a club for his birthday. Little did I know, Tommy'd never so much as kissed a woman in his life, let alone seen one naked and wrapped around a pole. He bounced his legs up and down like some excited kid, gripping his knees and scrunching his eyebrows. It was quite a sight, really. I remember exactly what happened.
"You want me to buy you a dance?" I had to shout over the music.
"No, I'll just watch." Tommy gave me his sheepish smile, the corners of his eyes curling up.
"I insist, it's your birthday." Being as I snagged us prime seats right by the stage, I managed to get one of the girls' attention, and with some notes she had taken Tommy by the waist and lead him off, all the while he was looking at me like I'd killed his mother.
"Ah. Well then." It's better to let sleeping dogs lie. The drink suddenly catching up with him, Tommy slouched in his chair, his eyes lolling about. I sincerely hoped he wasn't going to fall asleep, because I was not a fan of having a queer little sleepover. Yet the threat of Tommy's spending the night grew stronger, seeing as he was too tired even to break the silence with his stupid noises.
"You doin' alright Tommy?"
"Yeh, I'm just, just, ahh...I prolly need t' leave, what, what time is it? I need t' leave, shit it seems late, is it late? I'm gonna..." Clutching the edge of the table, Tommy pushed himself up, stood for maybe three seconds and started to fall over. Lucky for his face I'd gotten up when he did and managed to catch him, but shit I'd never realized how dense he was for such a short guy. I should've let him knock his teeth out on the table. I struggled to set him upright, and his drunken ass was no help at all.
"Fuck Tommy, you're such a lightweight." All his weight was on me, his head resting on my shoulder and probably drooling on my shirt.
"You smell like pie." Tommy started into a laughing fit, but he started choking, probably on his own tongue, and got quiet again.
"Shit, you can't go home all pissed." I exhaled angrily and shifted Tommy around. "Here, I guess you can sleep in my room."
"I ain't no trick, Turk." He started laughing again, his eyes srunched into little dark half circles.
"I'm not calling you a trick, I'm gonna sleep on the couch. God you're annoying when you're pissed."
"Shit mate, how much pie d'you eat? Yer face smells like blueberries." I didn't quite understand how drunk Tommy was until he started chewing on my face, and I couldn't get much more than a 'What the fuck Tommy' out before he went and started sucking on my mouth. I threw my arms up, letting him fall and smack the back of his head against the table. Moaning and sprawled out on the ground, Tommy was not such a happy drunk anymore.
"What the fuck was that, Tommy?"
"Please Turk, c'n we talk about it later, ah, I jus' wanna go to sleep, help me up, I need t'..."
"I'll help you up once you tell me what you were doing sucking on my face."
"God, damn it. I'm so pissed, Turk, please, I drank too much, I'm pissed, jus', let me up, I needa, ah, Turk lemme up, God."
I wasn't much in the mood to have him rolling around groaning on the floor, and I figured a table to the head hadn't done much good for him. Sighing loudly, I pulled Tommy up and dragged him to my room, leading him like a blind man to the bed. I tried heaving him onto the bed, but he'd clung onto my shirt so I ended up on top of him. He started sobbing and pawing at my face, apparently gotten over the happy side of the booze.
"Turk, you, you're the only person who ever did anything for me, you know? It's always just, everyone steps on me, and fuck I'm always just little girl Tommy, but you're the only friend I really have Turk, you're the only one who ever gave a shit."
Tommy broke up again and went off into a coughing fit, finally letting loose of my shirt. I took the opportunity to get the hell out of the room. When I got back into the kicthen I could still hear Tommy making a racket.
Everything had been put back into order, at least as far as I cared, and the flat was silent. I sucked on the cut I'd gotten from cleaning up Tommy's shattered glass, tasting the faint iron. I walked into the bedroom, looked at Tommy passed out on my bed, and hesitantly sat down next to him. His face was calm as he slept, and I realized how young the kid is. A small smile crawled across my face.
"Glad you know I care."