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 Posted: Tue Dec 12, 2017 3:01 pm
He waited for the stubborn push, the insistance that he was fine and the attempt to get past him for another glass of liquid that would only worsen his mood. It didn't come and Kavinsky found himself caught off guard by it. Very slowly, as if he expected Banks to lunge up and try to get past him, the Russian backed off a little, one arm leaving the couch to adjust the beanie that sat atop his stock of snow white hair.
He wasn't going to answer, he was going to shrug and ignore the question entirely because he didn't think it mattered, but Banks was asking again why he came over and he felt compelled to answer, even if the idea made him uncomfortable.
"I'm usually the last person on anyone's list to get texted like that." Hell, Kavinsky couldn't even remember the last time someone texted him for something other than a job besides Ellis and that had been back when he was doing his friends with benefits/half living with Isaiah. "Figured something was wrong."
Kavinsky wasn't exactly a friend but he was a reliable ******** and Banks had been pretty decent to him overall, with all of the meals he pushed his way when he stopped by to do work around the house. Yeah, the money was nice, but the lawyer didn't need to do anything extra like he tended to.
But he did and maybe that mattered to the handyman who was used to scrambling for every little thing he was given or had.
"Stay put," he ordered, making sure to give him a threatening glare before he abruptly moved away, boots stomping their way into the kitchen for that glass of water.
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Posted: Tue Dec 12, 2017 6:46 pm
"I'm not a dog, Kavinsky, I'll go where I please."
Still, no effort was made to remove himself from the cushion he'd been pressed into. The older man actually looked more relaxed when the Russian pulled himself from off the couch, headed into the kitchen where he soon heard the sound of cabinets opening. Tension released from his shoulders, hands shifting to begin wrenching down his rolled-up sleeves.
He'd tugged the shirt back on shortly after his poorly made decision, brushing off all the glass fragments from the top before slipping the sleeves back on. There were cuts and blood stains here and there, but they were easy enough to ignore - at least, for the moment. Once the sleeves had returned into place, cuffs buttoned up and adjusted, fingers moved up to begin buttoning up his dress shirt, all the way up, including the one beneath his neck. A quick flip and the collar had been set in its proper place, wrinkles smoothed from the surface.
By the time Kavinsky had returned, his hands had swiftly drawn themselves through formerly gelled hair, smoothing back the wild and reckless tufts of dark brown color. Hazel eyes were still slow to react from the sheer amount of alcohol still coursing through his system but he looked relatively better than the disheveled state he'd been found in.
"I text you when things aren't wrong, you know," the lawyer finally huffed, glancing over at the shattered window as he managed to dodge confirming that anything had been wrong this evening. Wrinkling his nose at the chill that continued to sweep its way into his otherwise warm abode, he let out a small scoff. "I was being playful. You do understand playful don't you, Kavinsky?"
Then again, judging by the permanent scowl on the younger man's face, perhaps he didn't.
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Posted: Wed Dec 13, 2017 1:12 pm
Kavinsky would respond with his middle finger tossed up as Banks's watched him head into the kitchen. There were no words and not even a glance back as he began rummaging through the kitchen he knew well enough from all of the dinners Banks insisted he share with him despite his constant refusal.
Returning with a glass of water and two aspirin in his hand, Kavinsky once again stood right before the older man with his arms stretched out to offer both items.
"You text me for work, not pleasure," he pointed out, knowing full well that was likely because of his choices and actions. Banks had called him a friend once and Kavinsky had virtually recoiled from such a title. It had been instinctive and he hadn't even felt bad but it left him in an uncomfortable position now.
"Playful doesn't usually include punching a window," he replied, eager to distract from himself and put the focus back on the drunken man. "Drink, I'm putting you to bed."
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Posted: Wed Dec 13, 2017 1:45 pm
"'Course it does," he scoffed, shaking his head as both hands outstretched themselves for the glass and pills. "It's just playing rough."
The pills were tossed back, the glass of water soon chasing after the little white drugs. He didn't even ask where Kavinsky had gotten them - didn't even question him about what they were. No, there was a level of trust that had been developed over the course of the visits - or hell, back during that warped adventure that Rob still found it difficult to believe really happened - and while the Russian didn't seem to consider him a worthy candidate for friendhood, Robert Banks found a friend out of the angry teenager.
Y'know, even if he was an angry teenager.
There was a goofy, intoxicated grin plastered across the lawyer's face as he crossed his legs, bumping into the younger man's as he continued to stand there, looking like a solemn, un-fun looking statue. The sudden brush of leg to leg motion seemed to almost startle Rob, who only moments earlier hadn't seemed to be concerned with randomly nudging the other man. Now, he was scooting back, leaving a fair amount of room between the two of them as his face worked to put on a facade and hide any concern that might be lurking.
"Bed? Already? But Mom, it's not even midnight - do I at least get a bedtime story?"
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Posted: Wed Dec 13, 2017 2:48 pm
"I doubt you know how to actually play rough." The quip was out of his mouth before he could think twice about it. Unlike his companion, the brush of limbs didn't even earn the batting of an eye while Kavinsky folded his arms over his chest much like a disappointed parent would to a child in time out.
Banks's grin made something in his stomach shift, not unpleasantly, but he ignored it.
"Yes, bed. I need to fix the window without worrying about you running underfoot." His voice was firm and he looked like he wasn't going to budge about it. Though, Kavinsky wondered when he became the adultier adult than the older man who outwardly appeared to have more of his life together than some struggling to pay the bills broke a** high school dropout.
"Come on," he ordered, offering one hand for the lawyer to grab. If he didn't get up of his own accord, the Russian had no qualms about picking him up and tossing him over his shoulder like a bag of flour. It was bed time for the drunk, he didn't care how the man felt about it. "I will pick you up, don't put up a fight."
Yet, he suspected Banks was going to do just that, if only because Kavinsky asked him not to.
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Posted: Wed Dec 13, 2017 3:20 pm
"I can be rough," he argued, eyebrows rising as he looked almost amused at the insinuation. "Hey, you said it yourself, I did a number on the window, didn't I?"
The underfoot comment had him snorting again, making it sound like he was some rotten child or pesky dog that continued to get in the way. It was his house, wasn't it? He could get in the way if he damn well pleased... but he wasn't in the way, was he? He was sitting on the couch for Christ's sake, it wasn't as if he was going to break another window or some silly nonsense like that!
As the hand extended itself, the smile on Rob's face wavered. Hazel eyes dropped down to the weathered palm and tan fingers reaching for him and he shirked back once more without even thinking. He had half a mind to stay there just to be spiteful, but at the follow-up threat of being toted off like some woman over a caveman's shoulder, Robert Banks was suddenly scrambling to get off of the couch, practically tossing the empty cup onto the coffee table.
"Jesus, you don't have to threate---"
He made it precisely three feet before the disoriented man fell to the ground, hands reaching out automatically to catch his fall. The right one was cushioned by the couch but the left hit the coffee table with a thud, making the grown man hiss at the sudden sharp pain throbbing his already wounded hand. "--<******** still, he didn't stop where he landed. Using the couch as a means of support, he crawled forward, trying to pull himself up with one hand. The other gestured backwards, despite the pain, waving the Russian away as if to silently say stop before Kavinsky even had a chance to start.
"I'm fine, s'fine. I got this."
Finding his way to the stairs was definitely going to be a feat but it was clear that the older, intoxicated man was determined to half crawl, half limp his way towards their general direction.
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Posted: Thu Dec 14, 2017 2:53 pm
Kavinsky had lost track of how many times he had, or had the urge to, eyerolled at the lawyer. He was being incredibly childish and if he had realized how much of a pain in the a** the man was going to be he might have strongly reconsidered answering the text messages. "You know that's not what I meant," he snapped, complete with a tone that heavily implied you're not being cute, knock it off.
Nothing turned out to be more aggravating than watching Banks fold into himself like touching the teenager was going to burn him.
"What the ******** is your problem?" He asked, clearly irritated in an entirely different manner than before. "You're acting weirder than usual." And, by his accounts, Banks was pretty weird.
But suddenly the older man was scrambling to get up and...away from him and all Kavinsky could do was watch him take those three steps before he was on the ground looking like a god damn idiot. "Jesus," he huffed, along with some choice russian expletives before he was trudging over and trying to help the...crawling man who suddenly couldn't get away from him fast enough.
What. The. ******** are not fine, will you quit pretending like you are?" Kavinsky was snapping, coming up behind the man and bending over to wrap his arms around the man's middle to hoist him up and onto his feet. "You're ******** ridiculous," he griped, right before he shifted his grip and swept the man off his feet and into his arms, bridal style.
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Posted: Fri Dec 15, 2017 10:02 am
He could hear the rough brush of denim against denim, which only meant that K was in pursuit, which meant he needed to hurry the hell up if he was going to get anywhere onto the stairs before the Russian had closed in the gap between them.
There was a jerk and a struggle as he pushed on his knees to try to lift himself up. If he could only manage to go straight instead of the random curves his body was choosing to direct him in. It was disorienting and dizzying but the stairs were so close that he could almost feel the smoothness of their wooden surfaces underneath his reaching fingertips.
Russian expletives told the panicked lawyer that he was only inches away and immediately the hand flew back to gesture in his direction for a second time. Oh god, no, no no nononono no.
“I've got this, I've got thHHH--!”
The air was pushed out of his lungs as he was right with the world once more. Weight was put on his feet and he was no longer at vision-level with what his cat might see. Arms flew out in an attempt to find something to brace himself with, but it was a pointless endeavor. In a matter of moments he'd lost his balance once more, his feet literally swept up from beneath him as strong arms wrapped themselves around him for the second time in his life.
Immediately, the lawyer began to squirm, panic setting in.
"I'm not a damn woman, Kavinsky, let me go!"
Twisting around, he managed to roll himself against the front of the stronger man's chest, his body tangling and pressing itself against his irritated captor. A yelp rang out through the house as he moved even quicker to keep himself from rubbing against the man's front side, which would only add to the already dreadful awkwardness of the situation he'd found himself in.
No matter how much he twisted and writhed however, the calloused fingers never let go, holding on firmly and soundly to the overly dramatic body it carried.
Growing limp, it became clear by the top of the staircase that he'd given up fighting as he sulked gruffly, "This is absolutely ridiculous."
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Posted: Sat Dec 16, 2017 3:51 pm
"--the hell is your problem Banks?" Kavinsky managed to ask despite the flailing arms, resistance, and the strange insistence that the lawyer had things under control despite very clearly not. One hand was snug against the older man's ribcage and the other gripped his thigh tightly.
"Stop moving!" He snapped, pressing his fingers more firmly into the man as if it would keep him from twisting and squriming in an attempt to get out of Kavnisky's hold.
The joke was on Banks though, because the Russian's grip didn't relent and he only pressed the man more firmly against his chest to keep him from moving. Though, the twisting made something more evident to the teen even if he didn't comment it. The notice was in the form of lifted brows and eyes widening a fraction before he was scowling again.
"I'll stop treating you like one when you stop acting like one!" He snarled, continuing his trek towards the stairs. "Christ, it wouldn't be half as ridiculous if you would stop freaking out about every little thing." Climbing the stairs with a fussy man in his arms was more of a pain than he would have liked but he dealt with it until he found the bedroom and made his way inside.
Less kind that he might have been earlier, Kavinsky dropped Banks onto his bed.
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Posted: Mon Dec 18, 2017 8:37 am
He hit the bed hard, the fully grown man's body bouncing slightly from the impact as hands flew to his sides to try to support his weight. It only took one attempt for him to rise before he toppled backwards, brown hair hitting the pillow with a whoomph as he closed his eyes and held on to his stomach.
It would appear that after drinking himself to the point of stupid, that twisting and squirming around on top of being tossed wasn't the best of ideas for his poor stomach. He'd prided himself on having an iron stomach, not one to get queasy or puke after a night out (or, in Rob's case, in) but then again, he hadn't roughhoused since his college days and, well.
He wasn't a college kid anymore.
Immediately he turned on his side, both to quell his stomach and raise his leg, making himself feel both more comfortable and less exposed to the Russian towering over him. Hazel eyes stared past the white haired boy, refusing to make eye contact.
"Didn't ask for your help," he huffed, instinctively cradling his wounded hand closer to his chest. "If I carried you around in my arms, you'd freak out too."
His nose scrunched up, defiant look still plastered on his blitzed out expression. He was quiet for a moment, but then...
"Gonna take a shower, I think. I'll give you money for the window later, or you can look for my wallet downstairs."
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Posted: Mon Dec 18, 2017 9:44 am
Silver eyes watched the older man bounce about his bed and squinted as he noticed the way sickness threatened to get the better of him. A cluck of the tongue and a headshake had Kavinsky folding his arms across his chest looking incredibly disapproving at the lawyer.
"I doubt you could pick me up." As far as he was concerned, Banks didn't look like he could lift much of anything, let alone a bulky, muscular Russian. "It's not about you asking. You need help, regardless of how stubborn you want to be about it."
Anyone that turned to a bottle the way the man was needed help. Kavinsky was likely the first person to tell the man to his face that he was a ******** human disaster. "You're not going anywhere except under the covers," he barked, automatically moving to stop the older man from going anywhere. One strong hand reached out, pressing the heel of his palm against Banks's chest. "You can't even stand up without making a fool of yourself, you get into the shower and you're going to end up falling and hurting yourself worse. Bed. Now."
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Posted: Mon Dec 18, 2017 12:37 pm
Eyes cut over to where the teenager stood and narrowed as he watched the solemn young man actually tsk him like a disappointed parent might. The headshake only added insult to injury but his comment, oh, his comment burned deep into Rob's thoughts and festered there like an irritated sore.
While his stomach continued to lurch, tossing around inside his core as the mixture of alcohol fought to settle, his head was quickly beginning to throb once more. The last buzz was wearing off, stripping Banks of his confidence, of his carefree nature, of the warm, fuzzy blanket that dulled all of the sharp edges, all of the problems in his world.
He found himself on his back again, forced down by the burly hand that insisted he stay in bed. One shoulder jerked to fight it as his gaze bore into the white haired Russian that had apparently decided that his good deed for the day would involve looking over some drunk sonofabitch.
His words, though, continued to plague his thoughts. Stubborn. Fool. Need help?
The question croaked its way out of his throat, the bitterness clinging to each word. "Need help? Oh, are you an expert now about this? I need help?"
The pain thrumming through his brain found a focal point behind his eyes while his left hand moved out to shove away the arm holding him down. Another error on Rob's part, the bandaged knuckle colliding and causing him to wince and scowl, but not before realizing that he was such a worthless b*****d that he couldn't even fight off a ******** teenager if he wanted to.
Just like that, something inside of Robert Banks snapped.
"I need help." The comment was reiterated a second time, followed by a sarcastic bark that could barely qualify as a laugh. "No s**t, Kavinsky. You don't think I know that this isn't normal? That this isn't what successful people go home to do after work every day?"
Eyes roamed the room as everything in it began to spin, the Russian included. His right fist curled up into a ball and eyelids closed, forcing the room to stop in its tracks as the sour words only continued.
"It doesn't ******** matter anyways. No one gives a s**t, I don't give a s**t, it's all s**t."
His good hand rose and made a strong effort to shove away the hand pinning him down. "Let me go." The "order" he'd been given was sneered at, answered with an overly exaggerated shrug while legs twisted to try to hook their way onto the edge of the bed. "Hey, maybe if I'm lucky, I can break my neck and solve the problem altogether. That'd work out for everybody, it's perfect."
Evading the hand, he turned back over as he struggled to sit up on the bed with the help from his socked feet. The exasperation, the utter finished state he was in was only growing as he sat there and dwelled on matters he'd been trying to avoid altogether entirely. Thoughts were growing dangerously destructive and all the more tempting the longer he considered them.
"Just fix the ******** window and go. Or ******** it, take the money and just go."
A dismissive handwave joined the glare as he looked away from the gruff teenager. "I'll be fine. Everything is fine. It's all a bunch of whatever, but it'll be fine."
With that, he paused and suddenly grabbed for his stomach. Turning towards the side of the bed, he promptly vomited the remaining contents of his liquid lunch and dinner.
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Posted: Mon Dec 18, 2017 2:19 pm
His jaw ticked, teeth grating over each other and the fingers pressing against Banks's chest twitched, nails scratching across the fabric of his shirt before he retracted his hand and folded it over his chest once again. One knee pressed into the comforter, creaking wrinkles in the once pristine bedding as his nostrils flared.
Banks was being absolutely insufferable and childish.
His jaw shifted when he exhaled and it was clear that he was struggling to reign in his irritation. As much was he wanted to lash out at the older man, he knew it wasn't going to help anything so he stood there silently as Banks did whatever idiotic thing he thought was best.
The words that spilled from the lawyer's mouth were harsh but did little to move him or even sting. He knew a downward spiral when he saw one, it was something he'd witnessed frequently with baba after mama died. A bottle of alcohol wasn't something the tinker often turned to, it had made his hands shake too much to work, but he'd locked himself in the garage more than a few times before he died because he didn't want his son to see how he couldn't sleep and that he was barely keeping himself together.
Kavinsky noticed, because children always noticed more than people gave them credit for, but he couldn't do anything then.
With Banks though? He could.
"You need to lash out, fine, but don't pretend that you're worthless or that no one gives a s**t." He didn't move even though he should have, because Banks was determined to get around him ********. The b*****d puked all over his floor and on one of Kavinsky's shoes. <********.
Rubbing his face, and fixing his beanine, Kavinsky set a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not here for the money, Christ. Will you please lay the ******** down?"
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Posted: Mon Dec 18, 2017 2:43 pm
"Pretend? Who the hell is pretending?"
His voice was hoarse and raspy, one arm moving up to wipe his mouth across the ruined sleeve. He grimaced as he stared at the result, slowly and clumsily peeling off the remains of his dress shirt before unceremoniously dumping it atop the gross evidence of his drunkness on the carpet. The shirt was already ripped and bloody from the window - why not add to the horror of the night anyways, right?
Now in just his slacks and undershirt, he turned back to stare up at the kid, well aware of the firm hand that rested on his shoulder, as if silently promising to shove him back if he tried to rise again. The please that the teenager offered was surprising - Rob would give him that much - but not enough to completely disarm him from the warpath he'd already begun traveling down.
"Have you seen anyone else in the house when you come over? Are you really going to try to feed me that bullshit that people care? Where are all of these magical people, huh? They weren't there when I needed them when I got here, they aren't gonna be here when I need them now."
Knuckles grew white and ached, Rob realizing that he'd been holding his hand into a tight fist without realizing it. Releasing the grip, he shook his head.
"Because the way I see it, Kavinsky, I've reached as good as it's gonna get and let me tell you, it's not looking really good."
Head sinking into his hands, fingers ran through messy brown hair as he exhaled slowly, trying to calm down the surge of anger and frustration coursing through him. Despair was quickly showing up, in lieu of the aggression, but Banks wasn't going to subject the Russian into this messy, pointless world of his. He had his own s**t to work through, after all.
"I'm not going to bed like this, I need to get cleaned up. You may as well go home, K."
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Posted: Mon Dec 18, 2017 3:00 pm
He didn't say anything at first, too busy trying not to lose his temper because he knew it wasn't going to help. Clearly Banks wanted to head down a self-destructive path and had chosen alcohol poisoning as his preferred route and Kavinsky didn't know what he was going to do about it.
He wasn't a comforter.
He solved problems with his fists and stares that could level mountains if he had laser vision. He was sharp, cutting edges that often threatened to cut up the soft, squishy parts of the people who decided to get in his orbit. He was shards of glass all over the kitchen floor or pieces of plaster and bloody knuckles from the hole he punched in the wall when he stopped being able to even pretend he knew the right words to say to express himself.
"I'm here." He said it before he realized and his jaw clenched tighter in the aftermath. "People can't help you if you don't let them know you need it. We're not ******** mindreaders Banks." Not that he thought it would matter or help if he was because Pietro Vladimir Ivan Ilya Kavinsky was used to being the guy with the chip on his shoulder that people avoided because he looked mean and he was abrasive as ********, Banks kept calling on him for things and that had to count for something...right?
"I'm not leaving." Instead, he turned shifting to draw one of Banks's arms around his shoulders while his went around the man's back to press fingers into his waist. "Come on, I'll help you get cleaned up."
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