Chapter Text
The roar of the vacuum fills Roxy's skull as she pushes it idly in circles around the living room, sucking up old sweater lint and lollipop wrappers. She lifts up Harry's schoolbag, pushing it under for a moment to absorb the invisible mess from the carpet before placing it back down. There's something so picturesquely motherly about the scene, something about the pink dress and a domestic chore being done in preparation for the play-date with her son's adorable little friend.
It's a position she'd once dreamed to be in one day, sudden divorce aside.
Roxy didn't stock wine in the house apart from occasions in which stocking wine seemed like the thing she was ought to do. An old friend visiting seemed like the right occasion, so she'd bought a bottle of wine. The label says it has hints of cherry and almond. She used to tell herself that when she was an older, sophisticated lay-dee, she would be able to pick up on the supposed 'notes' in the alcohol, tasting anything but the strong sting of booze. Of course, she gave up on drinking a while ago, but she did wonder sometimes if it was possible now she was an adult. She imagined sipping it and picking up on everything she missed out on, a chuckle coming over her lips as she turns the bottle around to confirm the suspicions. As suspected, there are notes of berry in this one, she'd murmur to herself, and run a manicured thumb over the rim of the glass, making sure not to let any stain her lacy gloves. A woman in a commercial. One of the cultured socialites in those black and white movies. An epitome of femininity that always seemed so far away when she was a little girl.
She notices suddenly that she had drifted over to the kitchen. How long had the bottle been in her hand? Maybe it's a bad idea to keep this around at such a volatile time. Maybe he'll feel inclined to talk about what happened — Of course he'll feel inclined to talk about what happened! And then what, she'll refuse to have a glass to calm her nerves, to soothe the shake in her hands? No, she is cool, serene Roxy, sober Roxy, a Roxy who is more than just her romantic connections, there or not. She has a son now. If the divorce comes up, she'll just change topics. God knows he loves to dodge the harder conversations. It's a trait she very much admires about him. Well, maybe admires is a strong word. She appreciates it in him. Especially now.
Dodging hard conversations isn't something unique to him in their childhood friend group, nor is it something that helped them at the time. But now, with all of the volatility in the political climate and their relationships and how uncomfortably intertwined those things are, it seems like all anyone wants to do these days is have those hard conversations. Maybe she does want now is a night of dancing around the issues and making small talk. Maybe she'll even bring up a movie and let him ramble for a while. Maybe Jake hasn't even heard about the divorce. He seems to be blissfully out of the loop when it came to everything else, sometimes he seemed to know less than his own son.
There's a knock at the door, and the obnoxiously loud rapping of a strong fist snaps Roxy abruptly out of her thoughts. Her hand slips, and the wine shatters onto the freshly cleaned kitchen tile and over her dress.
ROXY: fuck
She scrambles, the knocking pausing for a moment before starting back up again with the same eardrum-busting gusto.
HARRY: mom, the door!
ROXY: yes i hear it
ROXY: harry can you get it for mommy please?
HARRY: okay!
Harry strolls past her, in no rush to open the door. She knows he's not thrilled about having him over instead of Vriska, but things have been so awkward between her and Rose lately, and she didn't want to bother her… Besides, admittedly, being around Rose and Kanaya feels like salt in the wound. The perfect couple, co-parenting equally and with no problems.
Harry and his friend go off to his room, and from what it sounded like from the kitchen, they were already talking about Vriska. She tsks, shaking her head fondly. The art of gossiping about your mutual crush behind their back is still alive.
JAKE: Roxy?
His voice calls out from outside the front door, with the nervous edge of someone unsure whether they're welcome in.
ROXY: jake you can come in bud
ROXY: u dont need permission neither of us r a vampire
Boots slip off and are left at the door. Jake tracks down her voice, standing in the kitchen doorway.
JAKE: Oh frig. What happened here?
ROXY: dropped a bottle
The words feel foolish and numb leaving her lips, like pebbles spilling off the ledge of a cliff. There was a witty retort that a sharper Roxy could have made there, to point out how obvious the situation is, how needless Jake's question was. An ironic, quippy counter could have rolled off her tongue in the way that was so prevelant in every chain of the Strider/Lalonde clan. But she wasn't in the mood, and it sucks to not be in the mood to make a witty retort.
JAKE: Do you need help wiping it up?
Before Roxy can reply, Jake is already on his knees with a dish towel and scrubbing at the tile.
ROXY: aww thx
ROXY: youre sweet
Jake glances up at her with a mischievous smirk, a twinkle glimmering in his eye.
JAKE: Roxy have you been powdering your hair?
ROXY: ok bb plz rephrase
ROXY: translation four eyes
JAKE: Erm.
His thick eyebrows knot together, clearly trying to calculate a less obtuse way of conveying his words.
JAKE: Are you driving yourself cock eyed?
ROXY: LMAO
ROXY: ykw now im single sure sometimes i am
ROXY: ok but what r u actually saying
JAKE: Drunk.
His nose scrunches, as if phrasing something in a normal way is painful and uncanny. Like forcing a cow to eat a steak, or some other far less morbid comparison. It's cute how important maintaining a consistent brand is to him. Or, more likely, that's just how he is, which is even more cute.
ROXY: no i didnt touch it myself i got this for u
ROXY: but i dropped it
ROXY: sry
JAKE: For lil ol me?
JAKE: Roxy you are a diamond in the rough my cherished friend.
ROXY: aww
ROXY: uhh hope its still a cute gift even if i totally fucked it up
JAKE: Its the thought that counts! An expensive gift doesnt count for dick if theres no thought behind it and a totally useless puddle of giggle water and glass shards is as valuable as liquid gold if its presented with love.
ROXY: ok but i did get u an expensive gift rofl
ROXY: i didnt buy it as a puddle and glass
He chuckles, putting a hand on her arm.
JAKE: It isnt worth much now thats what im saying.
ROXY: hey some freaks would prolly pay good money to lick the wine off THE roxlondes kitchen floor
JAKE: As they should! You have a lovely home!
JAKE: You could eat a full course banquet off these floors!
ROXY: orrrr lick the wine off it
JAKE: Are you suggesting i do that now to properly enjoy your gift?
ROXY: um
ROXY: ok i wasnt suggesting it but now i wanna know if youd actually do it
He raises an eyebrow incredulously.
ROXY: u live with gamzee im sure youve accidentally licked way grosser stuff
ROXY: sorry was that mean to him
ROXY: hes trying his best
She dedicates a second of silence to a heroic clown on an especially odd step in his redemption journey.
JAKE: Im not in love with the idea roxy.
ROXY: ur right its nasty
ROXY: ok hold on
ROXY: u got smt there
She leans over, licking a speck of wine off Jake's cheek playfully. The slight tang sends a slight bolt of panic shooting through her nervous system, but it's easy to swallow down.
JAKE: Hey! Dont keep my gift to yourself woman!
He grins, pinning his hands down on either side of her waist. This should feel uncomfortably intimate for a married man and his wife's best friend to be doing, but there's a silliness that pervates through the air, catching them both in a giddy spiral. They're two friends reconnecting over a spill and some play-fighting, and there's nothing more natural than that.
His tongue is damp on the strap of her dress, and it causes her to squeal, her hand instinctively grabbing his arm.
ROXY: whoaa
ROXY: jakeyyyy
She squeezes his bicep, letting a giggle escape her lips.
ROXY: damnn!!!
ROXY: look at u
JAKE: Look at yourself!
JAKE: Er.
JAKE: Seriously you might want to take a gander...
She glances down at herself and goes pink. The strap of her dress had slid off entirely, dipping the neckline and exposing half of her bra.
ROXY: shit
JAKE: Here.
He hooks his thumb under the strap, sliding it up her shoulder. His other hand drifts to her waist to keep balance. The giddy impulsiveness has faded, replaced with a thick, undeniable tension.
ROXY: ja-
JAKE: Roxy-
They pause. Roxy's shoulders are tense under Jake's rough palms. She dares herself to sneak a look at his mouth.
It's unclear who initiates it first. Roxy's hands fly up his shirt, Jake's hand is firmly clasped on her thigh. Their mouths connect, the space between their bodies closing quickly. Roxy can feel her head inching closer to the broken glass, but that doesn't matter now. She's being touched, his hands exploring her body with gleeful abandon. It's a passion and hunger she never felt from John, at least not in recent memory. She can feel his body tense and untense as she touches him, his breath hitch in his throat when she kisses him just right. She playfully teases at his hair, gently touching his hips, daring herself a light squeeze of his famous ass…
They break away after a few minutes that feel eons long and yet nowhere near enough.
JAKE: Golly.
ROXY: omg
ROXY: jakey im
ROXY: im sry i
ROXY: we shouldnt
JAKE: Jane.
ROXY: yea
JAKE: Jane um.
JAKE: Is
JAKE: Um
JAKE: We
JAKE: Lets keep this between us?
He shakily wobbles to his feet.
JAKE: Im sorry this happened.
JAKE: Ill be back in a hop to pick up tavvy.
He backs away, and makes a mad dash for the door as soon as he's out of sight.
Roxy stares after him, her hand flitting up to her chest. Her heart is still pounding.
…What was that?