Work Text:
Jack’s vision swam as he was pulled into the bathroom by the wrist. His thoughts were hazy, and it took him a moment to realize where he was. Being met with wide red eyes pulled him to his senses, and he stared into them as he tried to ground himself in reality. The smell of alcohol distracted him from whatever thought he’d almost grabbed ahold of, and another, more displeasing smell followed. One quick glance down at his work clothes confirmed his suspicions as what he’d had for dinner greeted him. Jack winced in disgust, but in his current state, he wasn’t surprised that he’d been unable to keep it down. Things began to make sense, and Jack blinked groggily as he felt his clothes being tugged off.
“You’re fucking disgusting,” Vanny muttered sourly in front of him as she removed his shirt, taking care not to touch any of his vomit as she held it out to the side, wincing at the smell.
Jack slowly blinked, trying to think of some witty response to spit back at her. Vanny slipped past him, taking his soiled clothing with her out of the bathroom. The majority of the offending smell went with it, and Jack wobbled over to lean against the counter. His head throbbed, but with the smell of bile mostly gone, he didn’t feel quite as foul. His entire body ached, but he wasn’t sure if he was simply tired or if he’d done something he’d already forgotten and would come to later regret. He didn’t have long to try and recall the night’s events before Vanny returned, fluffy towel in hand and a tired look plastered to her face.
“V..Van-” He managed to huff out, to which the woman looked up at him and raised a brow questioningly. He didn’t have time to slur anything else before her hands gently grabbed ahold of him, leading him to the tub. Jack made a half-hearted groan in protest, but Vanny shot him a scowl and a low growl. “You’re not sleeping in my bed smelling like vomit and piss-”
Jack slowly blinked as he stood, letting Vanny rid him of his pants that had thankfully been spared of his dinner.
“Did I piss myself?” He slurred, squinting hard as he tried to remember for himself before she could answer. Vanny lifted Jack’s feet up one at a time to pull his pants off, unbothered by his bareness. It was nothing she hadn’t seen before; nothing she hadn’t already been acquainted with. “No,” she began as she tossed his clothes to the side and stood, looking into his groggy eyes. “But Dave thought it would be funny to piss on you-”
Jack made a small grunt in response, unsurprised and unphased. He just wanted to sleep if he were being honest, but he knew that Vanny would only put up with so much ending up on her couch and bed. Pizza sauce and spilled drinks were one thing, but vomit and piss were where she drew the line. Jack watched as she turned the water on and filled the tub with bubbles.
Steam rose as the tub filled, and Vanny sat on the edge with a tired grunt.
Jack sat down on the toilet, wincing a little at how cold the lid was. His legs were sore, but he was feeling a little better despite being bare. The bathroom was quickly heating up from the warm water filling the tub, and it made the man shiver slightly.
“Where… where is he?” Jack questioned softly. Vanny didn’t move, but she glanced back at him. “Outside.” She replied as she shifted, attempting to get as comfortable as possible on the side of the tub until it was full. Jack leaned forward and rubbed at his face, making a small noise as he did so. Vanny watched him quietly, taking in the sight of him. He looked miserable and exhausted, but she knew that she probably didn’t look much better. She wasn’t hunched over on a toilet naked, though. “He passed out in the bushes.” She added softly as she moved forward to turn the water off. It wasn’t the first time that Dave had passed out in those bushes, and they both knew it wouldn’t be the last. Dave was Dave, and his habits were predictable and tiring most nights. Vanny dipped a finger into the water to check the temperature, then flicked the water off of her finger as she pulled it out.
“Get in.” She huffed as she stood up, peering down at the orange man. Jack grunted, but did nothing more, remaining hunched over on the toilet.
“Jack.” Vanny sighed, exhaustion clear in her voice. Jack replied with another pointless noise, and it became abundantly clear that he wasn’t going to be moving any time soon.
Vanny had no intentions of staying up all night, and she wasn’t going to fight him on this.
A startled yelp escaped Jack as he felt her grab him, and he was lifted off of the toilet seat effortlessly. He had no time to fight back before he was being dropped into the bathtub, causing some of the water to slosh out onto the tiled floor and onto Vanny’s feet.
“Vanessa!” He barked as he got his bearings, barely registering that she was lowering herself to her knees outside of the tub. Vanny settled down on the mint green rug outside of the bathtub, ignoring the dampness on it as she reached over Jack’s head, grabbing a bottle of shampoo from the small shelf on the wall. She said nothing as she popped the cap open and drizzled some of it on Jack, then turned to grab the small rag that she’d brought in with his towel.
The rag was once white, but a permanent orange hue stained its fabric. This wasn’t the first time he’d been scrubbed in that tub, but he usually wasn’t this sober, either. Sometimes he woke up inside of the tub, only having been hosed off and left to sleep. Jack had never been this aware of what was going on, and he wasn’t sure how to feel when Vanny began washing him with the cloth. She was very gentle with it, but as his eyes trailed down to the water enveloping him, his heart sank. The water was quickly turning orange, and Jack knew that if Vanny’s scrubbing kept up, soon there would be no orange left clinging to his skin. He shifted in the water, and Vanny perked up a little, eyebrows raising with interest as he turned to face her. His hand extended, and he eyed the already-orange rag in her hand.
“I can wash myself,” he announced, making a grabbing motion as he stared at the cloth.
Vanny slowly blinked, clearly too tired to entertain him.
“Why?” was all she asked. Her tone wasn’t annoyed, and it was clear to him even as he sobered up that she was genuinely curious. Jack hesitated a moment and averted his gaze, looking anywhere other than her burning white pupils.
“I can do it myself,” Was all he muttered, voice a little uneven and fearful.
Vanny scoffed and moved forward, running the rag across his cheek with a gentle grin.
“And so can I,” She hummed as she wiped the orange from his face. Jack raised his hand up to grab ahold of her wrist a little tighter than he’d meant to. Vanny’s smile fell, and their eyes locked as she stilled. Jack’s eyes were wide, and she could tell that he was genuinely uneasy.
“I can do it,” he insisted in a soft voice. It almost sounded like a plea.
Vanny blinked and slowly pulled away, taking the rag with her. Jack released her without hesitation, slipping his hand back under the water. They shared a moment of silence, not breaking eye contact for even a moment.
“Jack-” She began in a soft voice, to which Jack only extended his hand again, attempting to grab the rag from her. Vanny held her hand away, putting the cloth out of his reach.
“It will be quicker if I do it,” She reasoned gently, unconcerned with the water that was dripping from the rag and onto the toilet seat, creating a small orange puddle. Jack shifted in the tub again, clearly distraught as his head pounded. “Vanny, just give me the fucking rag-” He grumbled, turning away from her as he peered down into the water, watching as it became less clear and more polluted.
“Only if you tell me why,” She stubbornly pushed, keeping her tone calm as she clung to the cloth. Jack submerged his hands in the water, staring at the scars that danced across his skin. The makeup that had been concealing them swirled around in the water, almost mocking him.
Vanny watched him in silence, then moved forward to wash along his arm. More makeup came off, showing what lay underneath. Vanny wasn’t phased, but she remained quiet as Jack stayed still. He was either too tired to continue to argue, or his headache was silencing him. Vanny wasn’t sure which was the case, but the silence was almost deafening.
“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” She softly murmured. Jack said nothing as she continued to wash him, ridding him of the makeup and the filth that clung to it.
Jack stayed still for a while, just staring into the soapy water. He knew that she had seen it before, partly, at least. She had seen the scars that littered his body; she had felt them and traced her fingers across them. Vanny had no problem with them, but he wasn’t Vanny.
Whenever he’d wake in that tub, there was always less orange on him than he was comfortable with. Vanny had never fully scrubbed every inch on his body; she’d merely exposed bits and pieces in an attempt to get him clean. She had never fully seen him without the orange concealer- and he had never wanted her to. Jack remained quiet as she washed him, being careful as she continued to spread the soap across him. Vanny knew what he was, even though he had never outright told her; sober, at least. Jack didn’t have long to wonder what he’d muttered while drunk before Vanny spoke, breaking the silence with a soft voice.
“Dave has them too,” she commented as she paused her scrubbing to gently trace her finger along one of the scars on his arm.
“It’s not the fucking scars, Vanny-” Jack found himself ranting before he could stop himself.
“It’s what came after them. It’s what they caused.”
Vanny fell quiet again, watching as Jack shifted in the water. His gaze remained downcast, and he refused to look up at her. The woman took a moment before replying. She sat the rag on the side of the tub as she began to stand. “Do you really think that I care about how you look under every pound of makeup you slather on?”
Jack turned to stare up at her, looking more tired than worried. He was tired of a lot of things, if he were being honest. He was tired of going along with everything that Dave wanted, he was sick of dodging sharp hooks and teeth every day he set foot in that damn pizzeria, and he was tired of pretending he was something he wasn’t.
He was dead, and every moment he tried to hide that fact, the more he hated the reality of it.
There was no chance he’d ever be able to live a normal life; not now, not after that suit.
At least by smothering himself in makeup he could put on a front; a mask. He could pretend that he was okay and in control, when in reality he was broken and being pulled around.
Vanny’s words bounced around in his brain, and he spaced out just a little too long, still feeling the ebbing effects of the alcohol in his system. The sound of clothes hitting the floor pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked back up to watch as Vanny stripped. Her body was free of the scars that plagued him and Dave, and he almost envied it. Jack didn’t say a word as Vanny stepped forward, placing one of her feet in the tub, then another. He watched silently as she sat down in front of him. She shuddered as the warm water wrapped around her, coating her skin in orange. Jack opened his mouth to say something but quickly decided against it. If she wanted to sit in her own bathtub and sit in the filth, he wasn’t going to argue with her.
“I don’t.” Vanny hummed as she sat cross-legged directly in front of him.
Jack stared at her in bewilderment, clearly confused as he tried to figure out what she was talking about. “You don’t… what?” He questioned, watching as she reached forward to retrieve the cloth once again. “I don’t care what’s under the makeup, Jack.” She repeated as she rang the cloth out and grabbed the bottle of soap, squirting more onto it.
Jack watched as she leaned forward, washing at his collar bone with a tired smile. Her eyes were lidded, and it was evident that she was ready to give in for the night. Instead of giving in and leaving him to clean himself, she had stayed to do it for him, sacrificing sleep in order to do so. Did they have work tomorrow? Jack tried to recall what day it was as Vanny washed his chest, ridding him of every ounce of orange.
Vanny stared at his chest and ran her hands across his scars, being gentle as she felt along his skin. Jack remained still, intently watching her as she smiled, eyes focused on his body rather than his face. He felt an odd sensation swirling through him, but he had his doubts that alcohol was the culprit. Vanny took in the sight of him, every ugly nick and scar that she’d uncovered.
Jack was silent as death as she felt along his skin, almost like he was something pretty. He knew that wasn’t the case. Vanny’s face wasn’t curled into an amused grin, though. Her expression wasn’t full of amusement or disgust, only awe.
Vanny’s gaze drifted up to Jack’s face, and she gave him the softest smile he’d seen her have in a while. Despite everything they’d been through, here she sat, practically caressing him in the bathtub in the dead of night. Jack leaned forward a little, ignoring the emotions he was feeling to the best of his abilities. He reached out for the rag, and Vanny handed it over without hesitation. They sat a moment longer, just gazing into each other's eyes with a certain softness that they rarely shared. There was no excitement behind Vanny’s eyes; there was no annoyance behind Jack’s. The room was still and silent aside from the sound of the sloshing of the bath water, but no words needed to be said. Both of them remained completely silent as Jack raised the rag up to his face, slowly rubbing off the makeup he’d wanted so desperately to keep on.
Vanny watched wordlessly as the orange dripped down into the tub, polluting the water even further. Jack paused his rubbing but kept the cloth to his face, hesitating only a moment before removing it and plunging it back into the water, then raising it back to his face. He kept his eyes closed the entire time, both unwilling to gaze at Vanny and not wanting to get anything in his eyes. He repeated the process of scrubbing before plunging the cloth back into the bath a few times before he stopped, keeping the cloth submerged under the water and tightly clenched in his hands. He knew there had to be none of it left on his face, but he felt like if he kept his eyes closed, Vanny wouldn’t see. He had already made his choice, and there was no turning back. When he opened his eyes, he found Vanny still staring at him, expression unchanging as she slowly reached a hand out to hold his face . There was no fear in her eyes, and there was no judgment. Vanny stared at Jack, showing nothing but acceptance and adoration as she moved closer to him, caressing his cheek with a gentle hand. Jack found himself almost nuzzling into the touch, and Vanny’s smile grew as he did so. He raised one of his hands out of the water to gently hold onto her wrist, both wanting to keep her hand against his face and to hold her. Vanny continued to shuffle closer until their legs were pressing against each other. She could feel the scars along his skin, but she didn’t pay them any mind. Vanny gently pulled Jack closer as she leaned in, pressing their foreheads together. Jack’s gaze drifted down to the orange water they were sitting in, watching as it rippled from the droplets running down from his face.
The water wasn’t clear anymore in the slightest; Jack couldn’t even see his legs under the sea of orange, but the water faintly sparkled as it rippled around them. They’d both dirtied the water in their own ways, but Jack found their pollution combined was just a little prettier than his alone.
Vanny rubbed her thumb along the side of his cheek, smiling as they sat in the low light of the bathroom. Jack didn’t dare move away from her, and she had no desire to pull away from him.
Jack knew that there was nothing pretty about his face; there was nothing appealing about his body, yet she caressed it all the same. She didn’t hesitate before kissing his skin or nuzzling against him. Vanny often pulled him to bed even when he wasn’t in an affectionate mood.
She wanted to feel him against her; she wanted him, makeup or not. As Vanny held onto him, Jack sucked in a small breath. There was nothing appealing about a corpse, yet Vanny made him feel wanted. Jack extended his arms out, pulling Vanny into his lap with ease. She clung to him, and they hugged, chest to chest. Jack rested his chin on her shoulder, and as he held onto her, he felt at ease. Despite the water having gotten cold, he felt warm.
Vanny was warm, she was vibrant, and she was alive.
Jack offered her no warmth, no vibrance; he was a corpse, a husk.
Vanny knew what he was, yet she clung to him anyway. Vanny knew that he’d died long ago, yet she kept him as close as he’d let her. Jack shivered a little as he soaked in her heat, unintentionally stealing it from her without realizing it.
It wasn’t the first time he’d taken something from her, and it wouldn’t be the last, he knew.
Despite it all; what they’d done and what they’d become, they held each other.
Even if the calm was only for that night, it would be a memory Jack would hold onto, and it would be one that he was glad he was sober enough to remember.