Baylee returned to his recliner, easing into the seat to make sure he wasn't too rough. The thing was cheap, and if he just plopped into it he was afraid of breaking it. The lever that actually extended the legs didn't even work, so it was more of a padded chair than anything else.
"You hungry?" he asked, slumping into the seat, making sure to not get too comfortable in case she said yes.
(Eeep, it's short, ik)
(no worries–its a casual series of moments.)
Her stomach rumbled, just barely, making Mila wrap her blanket tighter around herself to cover up the sound. "I can wait until tomorrow. It's no big deal." She waved her hand dismissively. "I had some nachos at the bar. You know the ones that cause cardiac arrest? I think I'll be alright." With that her cheeky grin reappeared.
They both sat in silence for a while. 15 or 20 minutes suddenly felt like 2 or 3 hours while the TV droned on monotonously. Baylee couldn't help but feel….off. Like he was doing something wrong. He was trying his best to make her as comfortable as he could, yet she still looked completely out of her element on his couch. He didn't realize it was because she was sitting on her crush's couch, wrapped up in his blanket while dressed in only his shirt right in front of him.
"Am…I doin' something wrong?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the TV. The feeling would just get worse if he looked over at her. "You seem really….uncomfortable."
Mila jumped at the sound of Baylee's voice. He hadn't shouted, the exact opposite actually. The soft tones soothing against the harshness of the tv, yet she had still jumped almost out of her skin. And here she had thought she was being sneaky. He wasn't doing anything wrong, Mila was just hyper aware that she was in postion that she never would have though she'd be in when she woke up this afternoon. In a dark room with a man that she was certainly attracted to, no matter how much she wanted to deny it, practically naked. Much to her surprise, Baylee seemed to be just as hyper aware of her, as she was of him.
"Oh no!" Why did her voice sound like that? "I'm just–I'm sorry about earlier and about all this. I feel really guilty." It wasn't a lie, if it was sort of the truth right? "But I am really thankful as well. I–I don't know how to repay you." Finally she peeked at him from the corner of her eye. He seemed to tense up the more she spoke.
"You don't need to repay nothin', Mila," he said, his scowl replaced with a look of confusion. He seemed just as uncomfortable as Mila was, his hands gripping the armrests tightly as he spoke. "It wasn't that big of a deal. Anyone else woulda done the same thing."
God, he needed a drink. Or seven. Anything to make this interaction less awkward. He felt like he was back in 6th grade, talking to his first crush. Except the crush was half-naked on his couch.
All thoughts derailed has his voice curled around her name. A little taste of his accent made her name sound exotic, Mila would have melted right then and there if the both of them weren't as tense as wires.
"Well– I suppose…" The words were oh so soft, as if she were worried that he would become angry with her should she speak any louder. Why couldn't she explain it? Just spit out the words so he would understand? She couldn't be in his debt, others had taken advantage of that many times before now. A little voice warned her that Baylee wasn't like that. His nice nature was genuine, he wasn't going to turn around and snap it back. But did she really trust it?
Looking at him fully, he was already gazing at her, confusion softening his features and she got the sense that he had a little understanding of her struggle. Yes. She trusted him.
"We need something to drink," he grunted, pushing himself off of the chair and rubbing his face. That red tint was back, stronger than ever. He was loosing his calm and he didn't like it at all. "This shit's gonna make me go khùng."
Baylee walked over and offered his hand to help her onto her feet. Would he be distracted by what she was wasn't wearing?…No, he wouldn't. That's not the way he was feeling about her right now.
Mila tilted her head to the side, her face obscured from the light of the tv by Baylee's body, effectively hiding her own tinted features. "What's 'khùng'?" She asked, mouth awkwardly forcing the word out. She was right, she had butchered the word, but still she smiled smugly as she took his extended hand. Mila opted to keep the blanket with her as they stepped toward the kitchen. she would have let go of his hand, but Baylee seemed content to keep on holding hers, and like hell she was going to disagree with that. His hand was warm.
"It means crazy," he said, running a hand over the stubble on the top of his head/ How was holding her hand more comfortable than just sitting there talking to her? His brain worked in some fucking strange ways.
The kitchen had no table in it, instead having an island smack dab in the center with (fittingly) bar stools circling the entire way around. It had a very bachelor vibe to it.
"What type of drink are you looking for?" Baylee asked, walking over to the fridge and picking the half-full bottle of red wine from the top.
Despite him trailing around the kitchen, he didn't let go of her hand. Mila was like his tiny shadow. She wasn't even sure he had noticed he was so focused on whatever he was thinking. "I'll have a glass of that." She said, nodding to the bottle of wine he was holding. "Three AM is not a good time to be taking shots or having hard liquor." She said reasonably, leaving out that it was only people with bad intentions and less than holy thoughts that drank like that.
Mila, regrettably, had to let go in order to sit down, but she stayed, debating. If she stayed any longer holding his hand like this, it would become obvious which way her heart swayed. Or hormones. Whichever. Because crushes were just momentary. Right? Clearing her throat, Mila pulled her hand gently away and situated herself on a barstool. Taking a moment to rewrap her blanket around herself.
"I'll get up early tomorrow and get you some clothes," he said setting the wine down on the island. A turn to the left and he opened up a cabinet, pulling out two small wine glasses. "You can keep the shirt, though. If you want it."
He poured out the wine about half-way in each cup, then corked the wine and set it back on top of the fridge. He began spinning the wine glass slightly, aerating the wine the way only a bartender would know how. Doing so exposes more of the wine to the oxygen in the air and improves its taste.
"Y'know, I never got your phone number." The words slipped from his lips before he even realized what he was saying. Seriously, Baylee? Now was not the fucking time for that! He hid his embarrassment behind a long sip of wine.
(added wine facts because I'm a sommelier? 10/10)
"Baylee– I'm sure I can wear my dirty clothes while you drive me back to my place tomorrow." Mila said, giving him a pointed look over the rim of her wine glass. It wasn't unkind, super playful actually. Especially, the way her dark brow arched over her blues.
She took a sip, only to have it almost come out of her nose in surprise. Her nervousness tipped over the edge and a hand clapped over her nose and mouth as she coughed. "Oh–" Another cough. "I'm so sorry." One more cough and her voice was a little hoarse. "I'm honestly not this stupid." Mila chuckled, and then was full blown laughing within a moment. The sound cheery and tinkling off the kitchen tiles. "This has been quite a night. Forgive me?"
Baylee smiled back, although it was through another sip of his wine. "To be honest, búp bê, I think it's incredible that you're awake enough to even be having this conversation with me. Between the singing, the drinking, the hassling, and Jacob, I figured you would've been asleep the moment you got here."
He scooted over to her slightly, able to do so since he hadn't sat down yet. Was flirting always this awkward, or did some higher power decide to fuck with them today. "I'm sorry that I acted so cold in the bar. It just comes with the job. After dealing with the same damn people for so long, you get pretty testy."
"Trust me I'm exhausted. But I couldn't possibly sleep right now, not when–" Not when I could be talking to you all night. Mila blinked, swallowing another gulp of her drink. "–wheeeeen there's wine!" She finished lamely. From Baylee's dubious look she knew that he didn't believe for a second that was what she really wanted to say. She blushed into her next sip, not giving him the chance to ask her what was really on her mind.
"You don't have to apologize for that." Mila tilted her head again as she studied him. She was still smiling a little, which only grew the more she looked into those green eyes. Only for a second did her eyes dart to his lips. A bad second. They just looked so soft. His smile, now that he wasn't hiding it, was a knock out. "I can only imagine what drama and nonsense you accidentally get pulled into, especially in a town like this." What was she saying? She had lost track.
"Wine…..right," he said, giving her a dubious look. Whatever she'd planned on saying, she completely bailed on it, making him wonder what it actually was, "I think you should get some sleep after you finish your drink. You drank a decent amount tonight, and staying up will do nothin' but make your headache worse."
Notice how he said "she" and not "them." He didn't plan on sleeping tonight, or tomorrow. For most people, sleep was an escape from the real world. For him, it only made the real world worse. Nightmares came to him early and often, and he didn't want to have that happen with a guest in his home. Especially if that guest was Mila.
Mila immediately put her glass down, she was more than halfway through with it and wanted to make it last. There was really no use arguing with Baylee about when she should sleep. She truly was exhausted. Not to mention she was going to need a decent amount of rest to deal with the shitstorm the next day was going to be. So yea, Mila would go to bed when she was done with her glass, but that didn't mean it had to be anytime soon.
"Headache smeadache." She said, the teasing lit in her voice letting him know that she actually was going to take his advice. Mila tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, looking down at the wine glass that she was now holding between both of her hands. Releasing the blanket had made it sag around her forearms, but she wasn't the slightest bit cold now. "What about you? Won't you rest? You are the one that delivered the beat down."
"Like I said, I don't sleep after working the night shift," he said, taking a long drag from his cup. Maybe if he drunk enough of this shit he wouldn't have to worry about a nightmare. And it was wine, man. Not as bad as beer, right…..? No, he thought, suddenly pissed at himself, you ain't ending up like mom. "Besides, one punch ain't shit. I'll be fine." I hope.
Mila frowned slightly. She hadn't thought Baylee was serious when he said that he didn't sleep at all. And he was griping about her sleeping habits? Internally, Mila harrumphed, but decided to keep her nagging to herself. He was a grown man, he didn't need her buzzing about him. "You are–" Fine as hell. God dammit she really needed to stop drinking. "–nice." Mila made a face, horrified at her own lameness. She turned away, swallowing a mouthful of wine to disguise her annoyance. Unfortunately, this finished off her glass. Why couldn't this be easy? "I can look at your hand tomorrow morning if it still bothers you."
"Sounds fine," he said, gently taking the empty glass from her hand and setting it into the sink. He paused to knock back the rest of his own before setting his glass in there as well. "But I doubt you'll have to worry. If it was hurt bad, I wouldn't be able to move it."
Baylee turned to her and smiled slightly. For once, his face seemed relaxed. Maybe it was the wine in his system. "G'night, búp bê. I'll see you in the morning."
"Oh! Uh–" Mila trailed off as she stood, bringing the blanket around her small frame again. Her mind scrambled, looking for anything, anything, that they could talk about, but all her brain was providing was a hollow buzz between her ears. Out of commission it seemed. Exhaustion crashed over her further and she yawned, fully giving in. His bed had looked comfy after all. "Yeah… Okay. Goodnight, Baylee." She said softly, moving around the island and back towards the living room. As she passed him, Mila suddenly reached out, wrapping her arms tightly around Baylee's middle in a warm hug. She stayed their for a moment, despite the way he had stiffened at her touch, enjoying the comfort of not only his warmth, but apparent strength too. Very slightly, she could feel something touch her back, as if Baylee was returning the hug, but she couldn't be sure.
Mila let go as quickly as she had grabbed him and with a soft pat, pat, pat of her feet on the floor she vanished into his bedroom.
Baylee watched her leave with a stunned expression, his arms still raised stiffly in the position they were in the hug. How long had it been since he'd had a hug? Like, a for real hug, not the bro-hug that he typically did when him and Berry got off of work. It……it had to've been the last girlfriend he had in high school, well over a decade ago. When his dad died, and he pushed everyone away.
The heat that raised to his face was so aggressive that he wondered if it was truly safe for his health. Christ, was he really that lonely? It was an emotion that had become so normal that he barely noticed it anymore. Then Mila comes around and…..everything he thought was alright wasn't anymore. But in the best possible way. Fuck, he was getting sappy.
(Timeskip to the next day?)
Through the fog of probably the best sleep she'd had in years, Mila could hear her phone chiming. She had purposely made the ringer as annoying as possible so she wouldn't be able to sleep through it. Unfortunately, it was working too well this morning. She groaned, stretching and sitting up to dive into her duffle and shut the stupid thing off. The clock read a bright and cheery ten AM. Mila did not feel bright and cheery. She considered plopping back into the warm embrace of Baylee's bed, but it was Baylee's bed. Blushing furiously, Mila slipped out of the warm covers, going into the bathroom to wash her face and try to tame the wild mess her waves had become.
A few moments later she stepped out into the living room, still clad in only Baylee's shirt and blanket around her shoulders. Blinking against the sunlight, she looked around curiously. "Good Morning?" Where was he?
"Mornin', búp bê," his voice called from the kitchen, the sound of sizzling heard and the smell of breakfast floating into the kitchen lazily. When she shuffled into the kitchen, she saw him, changed into a pair of athletic shorts and a tank top, in front of the stove with a pan of bacon. A large stack of pancakes were still steaming on the large plate on the island, a full bottle of syrup resting patiently next to them. An open egg carton was on the counter next to him, but it seemed that he didn't get to them yet. "Figured you would've liked some breakfast."
(had to make it short, bout to go home. Be back in a bit!)
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