(these days I've got) expectations
Bobby Skeetz x fem!reader
Summary: She met Bobby on the boardwalk in the summer trying to get over a past love, and what started as a nightmare set in reality turned into them running wild
Warnings: men, fluff, this is fun, essentially like a good old romcom that has too many punchlines and is moving way too fast into an outcome that is the most predictable ever and I love it, aka me being unhinged with some of these lines
Wordcount: 2.4k
Masterlist, YSPSFAGSIL Masterlist
How long can one believe in something until it becomes hopeless?
"And you've been in that business for how long?" she asked over the bumping music. Her heart-rate slowing with every beat that he moved to. Grinning and showcasing his yellow teeth as he leaned over the counter into her direction. The switching lights making his face appear more attractive than it normally would be.
"Oh, a few months," he answered, half of his drink falling out of his cub, down on the floor by her feet. "Since April this year. Straight out of college into the working space, you know. I'm one of the last remaining real men out here actually working."
"And you're already the third highest paid?" she asked, too impressed to believe him. Stepping back from the cloud of alcohol and weed that surrounded him, distancing herself from the answer that he'd probably give.
"My dad owns the company."
"Of course he does."
Looking over the dancefloor, over the endless sea of heads, she caught sight of her friend carelessly moving against one of his friends. Back pressed against his chest, hands in places where they felt entitled to be.
The night had started slow, stretching like an old piece of chewing gum and trying to get the last use out of it. Though the cue to spit it out never came. Or she must've missed it when she was introduced to the guy still looking at her with wide eyes as if she was actively talking or had grown a third head. His eyes trailing down to where the cut of her shirt was low enough to offend a priest in church. It wasn't vigorously suggestive or teasing, it was a low cut shirt. And still, he gave himself the right to stare like she might rip the fabric off completely if only he looked for long enough.
Crossing her arm over her chest, acting like she fixed an earring that she didn't own, urging his eyes to snap back up again. The grin returning, his body tumbling further her way. His lips pressing together messily. Eyes closed, balance unlearned. Gravity taking over his lacking mental state and making his tip forward first. The rest of his body following suit.
Instinct took over before she could think it through, the adrenaline making her retreat from the scene without a second thought. Bumping into three other bodies while she tried escaping the one that almost hit her. Apologizing without a target. Fleeting without a final destination in mind.
The last thing she heard was a collective groan and complaints from the people around them, the dull thud of his figure hitting the floor and the splash of him landing in the drink he spilled on her heels a few minutes earlier.
The crowd was closing in on her as she found the exit, the door seemingly moving further away as she tried reaching it. Her words swallowed by nauseous, the alcohol and her friends earlier promises coming back up her throat. 'You'll find someone here that will make you forget. In the end, the only was to get over someone is to get under someone else.' And even though all she wanted was to forget the man that left her sitting in the middle of a restaurant at Christmas Eve because he couldn't forget the elf-stripper that had served them at their companies Christmas party, the desperation wasn't as gnawing as to get into bed with someone like that.
Leaning over the first bush that came her way, emptying out the advice and memories from the last half year, she tried standing with a clear head. The world was still spinning and tipping over every few steps she walked towards the boardwalk, though it stopped feeling dull. The music was treating through the walls to her stumbling body. The water seemed deep enough for her to never reach the end of it.
"I hope you don't think about jumping," a voice said behind her. Chuckling uncomfortably, worry lacing his vocal chords as she still stood at the edge of the pier. Her body swaying dangerously enough for him to take his hands out of his pockets and step closer. "I doubt that I would be much of a help if you did."
Straightening her spine, she tried swallowing down the words that wouldn't come out her mouth. Her head falling to the side in disappointment. "You wouldn't dive after me?"
"I think I'd drown with you. My swimming skills are worthless. My mother still isn't sure how I got my swimming badge." He took another step forward, his brown hair catching her attention as it was accentuated through the brightly shining lamp post that he now stood under. "I'd still try to save you, though I wouldn't want to test your chances of surviving. Neither do I want to test mine."
"Are you an angel?" she asked, voice slurring as her eyesight got sharper. The fresh air helping her sober up quicker. Reaching out, tapping his shoulder with the tip of her finger to make sure that he was actually stood in front of her. The sudden contact making her stumble back, back bending under the force.
His hand shot out, catching her wrist, pulling her into his chest before she could be pulled down into a tidal wave. Breathing against her, her eyes seeming brighter under the light they now shared.
"Not an angel," she mumbled.
"Not an angel," he agreed.
Moving her to a bench to sit while she was still moving before her mind could thinking her actions through. Sitting her down, shrugging his jacket off and draping it over her bare arms already decorated with goosebumps and shivers running through her muscles.
"What do you do?" she asked before she let herself settle too far into something with someone who turned out to be just like all the others.
"I'm a musician," he answered, sitting down next to her. No hesitation, no second thought as to what could be the right answer.
"Oh no! Not another one of you!" Throwing her head back, eyes shut tight in agony. Legs straightening in frustration, her heels forcefully connecting with the boardwalk and a loud thudding sound. Hands slapping over her eyes, the theatrics overflowing her system as she let out a desperate groan.
Laughing at her reaction, pulling his eyebrows together in confusion, he asked, "Another one of what?"
"You call yourself a musician but in the end all you do is some mid EDM remixes of Top 20 hits and upload them to Soundcloud and occasionally play at some old friends or relatives birthday party that you basically get paid nothing but free food and drinks that would be free anyway, no? People that say that are usually using it as an excuse so that they don't have to confess that they've got no job. You know, it's almost like a fake job," she explained further, the thought of all the past answers she'd receiving forcing her nerve-system wide awake. Sobering up in a matter of seconds.
"You've met guys with fake jobs?" he continued, intrigued by her stories.
"It's exhausting." Shaking her head, hands falling from her face. Neck tipped back far enough to catch the stars twinkling in the sky above them.
"I'm in a band. A serious one. We're recording our fourth album now so, kind of in the middle of a break from touring," he explained, reaching into the pocket of the jacket that she still wore. Her head snapping towards him as his fabric clad fingers moved over her arm by accident.
Taking out a lighter, he moved it to the side. The letters printed on it in pitch black spelling out a word she had never associated with a band, neither a lighter. Inhaler. The irony wrote itself.
"The trademark R was my idea," he presented proudly. Finger moving underneath each letter as he let her read it twice.
"You're in a band," she repeated, finally believing him.
"I'm the bassist. You know, the guy with the rhythm."
"I know what a bassist does. I'm not illiterate."
"Not like some people in there."
Laughing in agreement, she let her head tip back to the side. Hitting his shoulder. His hand placing the lighter back into the jacket pocket.
"So, bassist of a band called Inhaler that sells lighters as merch. What's your name."
"Bobby," he answered. "Well, actually it's Robert but nobody really calls me that anymore."
"Robert," she repeated. Trying it out. Nodding in satisfaction. Giving him her own without request. "Have you ever been to a to a Christmas party and fallen in love with a stripper dressed as an elf and then decided to break up with your partner of five years?"
Slightly confused, slightly disturbed, he answered, "No. Is this a personal thing or just a hypothetical question?"
"Hypothetical," she said, calmer now that she'd gotten his answer. Looking out into the horizon. "We were together for seven years actually."
"What the fuck?"
"The bar was low," she acknowledged. "When you're fifteen you don't question a lot of things about a person. And at some point they just become normal. Whatever I do, however many times I might tell myself that I don't need someone to love and for them to love me, it truly is something that I can't seem to let go. I want someone to love me."
"You'll find someone. Not everyone's dumb and blind at the same time."
"I think the alcohol was pretty good even when it tasted like dish cleaning soap." Her eyes fluttered shut with every second that passed them by.
"Do you have your place around her?"
"Yeah, on the other side of the river." She pointed towards one of the high standing buildings opposite them. The bright lights reflecting on the water. The stars visible from their point of view but not for those still in the middle of the busy streets downtown.
"Alright, lets get you home."
The car ride was silent beside the low humming of the radio. She endured it for a few moments before searching for her phone. Typing in the name of his band with blurry vision hindering her exploration. Connecting it with the car and tapping on the top song with more force than necessary.
The change in melody being one he recognized right away.
"Oh no," he tried turning it off. His hand already halfway to the power button before she swatted his hand away.
"Oi, I'm listening to this," she conquered. Shaking her head at him and turning it louder instead. Her foot tapping the beat.
"I can hear you," she whispered three songs later. Opening one eye that had closed halfway into Perfect Storm, his voice breaking through the front vocals clearer than on any previous song.
"Now you know why I don't sing," Bobby joked, brushing off the awkward feeling that had settled in the pit of his stomach the second she insisted on playing their music.
"You're good," she said without paying his humour any mind.
"There is a song where I sing," he confessed after a second of silence.
"What's it called?"
"Strange Time To Be Alive. It's on the first album."
Searching for it, her eyelids heavy and protesting against the bright pixels, she played it next. Relaxing further into the seat of his car. "You should sing more often. Maybe you can sing for me someday," was the last thing she said before her eyes closed again and she focused on his words enough to drift away into them.
"Maybe someday," he mumbled back. Turning the volume down to a comfortable number and moving her chair further back to leave less for her neck to complain about the moment she'd wake up again. The address of her place tapped into the GPS.
He had searched for her keys before he left the car to carry her up the flight of stairs. Her apartment number conveniently still on him mind from when he planned ahead and asked her for it when she typed in her address. Opening the door with a quiet creak and searching for her bedroom without making too much noise or moving too hastily to wake her. Settling her down, taking off her shoes and his jacket, draping the blanket over her body to keep her warm and the headache in the morning at bay. Pushing back a few strands of hair that stuck to her face, she leaned into his touch instinctively. Mumbling a quiet, absentminded, "stay," before burying her face in her pillow.
Letting his head fall in surprise at how the night ended, he made his way back into the living room. Eyes fixating on the entrance door before he shook his head. Pushing off his own shoes and settling on her sofa. Watching the city breathing late at night before his eyes closed off as well.
Who knew that hope could be restored by one incidental meeting?
Bonus:
The sun was bright through the still open curtains, blinding her as her eyes were still shut. Groaning into her bedding, swearing herself out at the soreness of her feet from the shoes she wore the night before and the alcohol that was responsible for the headache she now had to carry around for the rest of the day.
Stumbling out her bedroom, the new presence only caught her attention when her foot got caught up by one of his shoes abandoned in the middle of the room. Letting out a surprised scream that made him wake from his sleep and sit up in a matter of seconds.
"You're still here," she noticed, pointing at him. Running her hands through her hair to tame it a bit as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes now too to see her clearly.
"You asked me to."
"I did?"
"Yes, half unconcious but you asked."
"And you listened?"
"Yes."
"Fuck, you might be perfect," she groaned as she fell into the empty space next to him.
Laughing at her statement, he got more comfortable again too. "You want to get breakfast? My treat since I got to sleep here for free."
"Let me marry you."
"Don't say that so soon. You haven't seen me eat yet. What if I disgust you with the way I eat, you can't take something like that back then anymore."
"Good point," she agreed. "Lets get food."
