Chapter Text
This wasn’t good. Cait sniffed and tried to snatch the whiskey bottle out of the girl’s hand, but Piper, in all of her drunk stupor, was faster.
“Not that I ain’t a fan of you loosening up darlin’, but you’re gonna haveta slow down.”
She grimaced at her and defiantly took another swig, balance unsteady and uncaring. “No stop til morning,” she laughed, cheeks dark with inebriation.
"You couldn't of picked a less dangerous place to get smashed?"
Piper ignored her, getting too close to the edge of the roof for comfort. Probably just to piss her off more. The redhead sighed loud deep in her throat, tapping her fingers against her hip. She was not equipped to deal with this, especially in light of her own life.
“Look, I get the need to bury to all. Alright? But this is getting out of hand. Yer gonna kill yourself at this rate.” She went for the bottle again, catching it by the neck. Piper’s face dropped from a gleeful smile to chilly stone as it locked in their hands.
“So what?” Piper dared, eyes bloodshot.
“You stubborn little shite. Let go of the bottle before I toss yer sorry arse off this roof.”
“Do it then,” she hissed, tone uncharacteristic and dower. “I’d deserve it right?”
Cait wanted to scream in her face, but the reasonable part of her, which was only unburied last month after years of festering, was pleading with her not to. She understood. She’d been here before, she’d been lost in the dark with just a bottle and total apathy to keep her company. Wanting to forget, wanting to give up. She's been lost long enough that even questioning how she'd gotten there felt pointless.
“I get it,” she growled, trying to keep her tone level. “You don’t wanna think about it anymore, right?”
Piper went still, eyes bloodshot, lips pursed. Cait used the bottle between them to get closer. Carefully, she mimicked a motion that someone (that someone) had used on her before. She rested her opposite hand against the side of Piper’s neck, anchoring her to reality.
“It hurts, right? Like a knife in the gut you can’t pull out.”
Piper’s lips cracked open for a moment, then shut. Cait pulled closer again, hoping to coax her out of her angst. Instead, Piper snapped and careened backwards out of her grasp, letting go of the bottle. Her ankle slipped against the slick concrete, sending her colliding with the ground with a sick thud. The redhead hurried to restrain her before she could hurt herself more, landing heavily with either leg across her waist. Piper thrashed, tears streaking over her face.
Cait grabbed at her wrists; even with all of her drunk energy, the cage fighter was far stronger than her. Frustrated and angry, Piper settled for kicking her bent knees into her back.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she said, surprising herself with her words. It was all she could think to say.
Piper shook her head, hair wild and hat lost behind them.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she said again, lower, gentler.
The girl beneath her let out an agonized, protesting shout. “I saw it!” she screamed, body still fighting to get up. “I watched it happen, I just stood there and watched! And I didn’t-!”
“It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have done anything.”
She cried out with pure anguish, limbs going slack in Cait’s grip. She let go of her wrists and her hands immediately flew to cover her face as painful sobs overwhelmed her. She shook through wave after wave, each more jarring than the last, as the truth of matters finally bubbled to the surface.
Cait held her as raw, carnal grief swept over her. She whispered against her hair. “Yer gonna be alright. It’s gonna be alright, love.”
No one understood this more than Cait. As different as they were, the black void of guilt was a common thread. Being kind, being a rock, for once, made Cait feel terribly human. Recovery was fucking rough, but they had all gotten her there. They hadn’t given up on her. She’d be damned if she was going to watch Piper sink deeper into that familiar pit alone. The arm around Piper’s shoulders was starting to fall asleep by the time the reporter calmed down enough to stop shaking. Cait kept her close, leaning back on her knees so she wasn’t restricting her lower body anymore.
The closeness felt odd, the same sort of odd as her first day without cravings. Old sensations dressed and cleaned as if they were brand new; the smell of morning chill, the homey feeling of rain against windows. Piper’s hand rested against her chest and it felt alien to receive physical contact without the haze of psycho driving her actions.
“Sorry,” she croaked, voice cracked with exertion.
“Don’t be.” Her voice was still soft and Cait felt like she had no control over it. Or, maybe it was the opposite, maybe she wanted to be soft and she finally had a choice in the matter. “Don’t have to apologize for bein’ in pain.”
Piper leaned back to wipe her eyes against her gloved palms. Cait was struck with a sudden sense of intimacy; she looked embarrassed and weak and the fighter was pierced with awareness again by their proximity. She’d been in similar situations, but out of genuine concern? She was sick with herself realizing that every other time she could remember, she had been trying to get something out of the other person. Chems, caps, escape, something, always something, so much so that her brain felt wired to react in ways that now disgusted her. She thought of taking Piper’s face in her hands and kissing her. The wetness of their mouths, of her tears, how she would take it. Would she fall into her out of grief? Would she push her away, scream at her?
Piper leaned against her again instead of pulling further away and Cait reflexively decided that she could do whatever she wanted to her at this moment and the other woman wouldn’t fight her on it. She was drunk and miserable; those two together were easy to exploit. The alcohol was already proof that she was trying to forget, to distract herself from what she’d seen. Nora’s death wasn’t her fault, but she had been there, she saw the light go out in her eyes. Cait knew what that felt like, seeing death hurtling towards your friend and not being fast or strong or smart enough to stop it. Every thought was guilt, of that moment playing over and over. Every thought made you want to drink, to shoot something into your veins, to fuck, to go to sleep and never wake up. Anything for a distraction, for escape. Piper was tumbling head-first through that tornado.
The acute burn of lips against her neck wasn’t a surprise. Cait sat still as Piper pressed forward timidly, tears trailing cold spots against her skin. It was something to reach out for, a warm body, a sliver of pleasure inside of the agony. Cait bit into her own cheek as a shameful rush of heat flushed through her as a second, quivering kiss pressed her pulse point. She should take her home now. Help her off the roof, bring her to bed, tell her to sleep it off. That’s what a good person would do, right?
Piper’s motions were all halted and stuttering; she was either afraid of her own impulses or just so drunk that she didn’t know what she was doing. It was obvious that she wasn’t used to being compromised like this.
“Piper,” Cait said, swallowing her own arousal. “Darlin’, you’re drunk.”
“I don’t care,” she murmured. Another kiss, still shy, still shaking, against her jaw.
Cait forced herself to stiffen; if she was better, she’d had pushed her away completely.
“I know what yer feelin’, but-“
She pushed her by the shoulders and Cait tumbled onto her back, the concrete of the roof scraping her. Piper mounted her fast, faster than any of her previous motions had been; she’d hit a nerve, she was trying to rush her relief. Cait would feel used if she wasn’t so familiar with it all, from both sides. The nighttime bustle of Diamond City below did little to pull her out of her haziness. The reporter leaned over her with a hand perched on either side of her head, eyes glazed from booze and tears. The motion made her sway dizzily; Cait reached up and caught her waist to stop her from falling. Piper groaned softly at the contact.
The fighter doubted this was happening because Piper had feelings for her. Who the fuck on Earth would. She was trash, a junkie, an asshole, and Piper? She was a shit starter, sure, but she was a good person all the same. She’d never fight for fun, or shoot up, or take advantage of a friend.
Piper dipped down. Cait opened her mouth; maybe she’d intended to resist. Maybe she could tell herself that to make her feel better about this.
Her lips were hot and swollen from crying. She tasted like Bobrov’s, her body was already moving against her, willing, and Cait lost herself in it. She’d watched Piper before, daydreamed about her, flirted with her just to see her get flustered and tell her off. She would’ve been happy to oblige her on the best day, a friendly roll around, to get the privilege of seeing her snarky attitude fall into pretty submission.
The image of Piper’s sober scowl snapped something in her. With steady fingers she took Piper’s face and brought her just a breath away.
“I could fuck you,” she said, the softness of her tone clashing with her vulgar words. Piper went rigid in her grasp, like reality ran cold fingers over her for a moment. “I’d make you feel good, you’d forget for a night.”
Piper didn’t pull away, Cait didn’t move her hands off of her.
She wanted her bad. Self-hate and lust knotted together in Cait’s lower belly. She wanted to give in.
But this wasn’t about her.
“You’d wake up tomorrow feelin’ like shit,” she muttered.
“I don’t care,” she said again, voice pulling.
“I know you don’t. Not right now, but you will,” Cait answered, keeping her voice gentle.
Piper let out a laugh that sounded too much like a sob. The pain in Cait’s chest surprised her.
“You hate me that much, huh?”
They'd been pretty infamous for not getting along when Cait was still addicted. Piper would chastise her for doing something shitty, Cait would laugh in her face, call her uptight, tell her that she needed a lay and happily volunteer for it. The redhead had found her constant championing around her own morality annoying and naive; what kind of idiot thought the world gave a shit about injustice, about missing people or corrupt mayors or whatever it was she was worked up about today? Cait definitely didn't; why should she have, when no one had ever bothered to help her?
The clarity of a clean mind made her realize how flimsy those excuses were. People had cared about her enough to help her, and Piper had been one of them. Despite the nasty words, the butting heads, the arguing, she'd still helped, and the ex-raider didn't feel worthy of that. It made every thought she'd had over Piper invalid, no words required.
Cait still saw herself as trash, inside. But that wasn't today's problem.
Their relationship was still tenuous; no longer hostile, but definitely not close enough that this position was born from anything other than Piper's drunkenness.
There was pain in her features. Cait wanted to rip it away. This was too close to home, too much like her own feelings. She kept Piper's face in her hands.
“Course I don’t hate you. You’re my friend, Piper. But you’re drunk, and I tryin’ to do right by you. Alright?”
Piper bit her lips together and sniffled. After a long moment, she leaned back. Cait followed her as she sat up in her lap.
She looked embarrassed again.
“God, I’m an idiot.”
“Nah, the Bobrov’s doin’ the hard work for you.”
“Sorry. Fuck. I’m an asshole. I really shouldn’t have done that.”
Cait tipped Piper’s chin. She blushed hard at the contact.
“Ask me when yer sober, darlin’. Lord knows I wouldn’t turn you down.”
She couldn't resist. And the reporter couldn’t get redder if she tried. It was kind of cute; Cait stored the image away in her head.
After a short while, Cait moved to stand. Piper swayed, tried to pick up her hat, and almost ate shit; the redhead laughed and grabbed it for her, slinging her arm over her shoulders as they walked to the trapdoor leading down into Piper’s house.
She helped the other woman down the ladder, led her to her bed. Piper sat, absently tugged on the collar of Cait’s corset, bleary eyed. Cheeks still dusted red, she pulled her down into another kiss. The feeling of a mattress beneath them sent a shock of adrenaline through her that was horrifically hard to resist.
Begging her own body to just let her be a good person for once, she separated them again. Piper, realizing what she’d done, covered her face with her hands.
Cait forced out a chuckle to play it off.
“As much as I like you havin’ a little less self-control, I ought to get out of here ‘fore something bad happens, yeah?”
She was still caught off guard by how gentle her own voice was. She was trying not to freak Piper out, the girl wasn’t built for drunk snogging and it wouldn’t do to humiliate her by accident with a response that was too strong. Again, really, she didn’t think she had the capacity to care.
Maybe getting clean had changed her more than she thought. Or maybe it was just the relatability of the situation.
Piper’s eyes flicked down to Cait’s lips and lingered, brow bent. Her hand was still slotted under the hem of Cait’s top.
“I,” she started, shuddering, “I’m, I don’t want to be alone.”
Alone with her thoughts, alone with her pain. The tight feeling in Cait’s chest twisted up again.
“Alright,” she murmured. “I’ll stay with ya until you’re asleep, yeah?”
Relief flowed out of her with a sigh and a nod. Cait dropped to her knees next to the bed and leaned her head against her crossed arms. Piper kicked off her shoes, laid down, reached out. Cait caught her hand and squeezed it.
She was asleep in a matter of minutes. After an hour, Cait left. Wouldn’t do her good to wake up to her mug in the morning. Hopefully the Bobrovs had a free room.