Midnight Visits

One-Shot

WARNING: This one-shot is rated M for a reason. It contains LOTS of profanity and a bit of sexual content. So you have been warned. If profanity is something that displeases you, I would suggest you do not continue from this point forward. Okey-dokes. Enjoy!

I sat on the Beech tree outside his bedroom window, debating whether or not I should knock on the glass that separated my messed-up self from his calm, collected self.

"Do something for yourself," he had once told me. "Stop thinking about others. Put yourself first for once."

Taking his advice into consideration, I hesitantly rapped my fist against his window, turning away slightly as I was sort of afraid of his reaction.

He didn't wake up, and I briefly considered going home. Until, of course, I remembered two things: One being just why I had decided to visit in the first place, and the second being that he slept like a fricken' rock.

Still, I was hesitant about knocking again. But then I remembered the events of that shitty, shitty night.

"Honey," the voice was still clear in my head, "we're thinking of getting a divorce."

I shut my eyes tightly, and let the hot tears fall. Stupid parents. They always ruined everything. But then again, I was being a bit over-dramatic, right? I mean, the divorce rate in this country was like 50. Why was I getting so worked up about this anyways?

After I was done arguing with myself, I couldn't help but think about how pathetic I must have seemed, sitting in a gigantic tree, crying my eyes out.

Finally, I knocked on his window again, this time more urgently. I watched rather nervously as he stirred, then sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes. He turned on the lamp beside his bed.

He looked positively shocked when he saw me. Then he managed to pull himself out of bed and stumble groggily towards the window.

Biting down on his bottom lip, he lifted up the window.

I winced, preparing to be yelled at. "Sam? What the fuck?"

"Well, it's sort of a long story…" I blushed, and although I was semi-afraid of the dark I was thankful that it was pitch black outside because he couldn't see my cheeks reddening. He would've made fun of me and made some sort of obnoxious comment.

"You're in a tree," he stated simply.

I rolled my eyes. "I am well aware of that seeing as there's a piece of bark stuck halfway up my ass. But thanks for the reminder, Sweetie."

He ignored me. "You're in a tree at," he glanced at his alarm clock from over his shoulder, "one thirty in the fucking morning!"

"I understand why you're upset-"

"Upset? I'm fucking furious!"

"Do you think I came by for a friendly visit?" I asked sarcastically. "That I climbed up a twenty-foot tree at one thirty in the fucking morning in order to say hi and ask how your day's been going?"

He rubbed a hand over his face and stopped at his chin, his fingers lingering on his stubble for a moment.

He sighed. "What's wrong, Sam?" he finally asked softly. "You're crying."
"It's partly due to the fact that I have a piece of bark stuck halfway up my ass and it's partly due to the fact that my parents have decided to get a divorce."

It took a moment for him to process the information. "Here," he said softly, reaching out towards me.

I grabbed onto his hand and allowed him to gently pull me into his room. He slammed the window shut loudly after me.

I glanced around his room. "It hasn't really changed much." I took a moment to admire the familiar Kurt Cobain poster that hung on the wall behind his bed. The corners of it were beginning to fold over, I noticed.

"Nope," he said, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at me. I finally made eye contact with him.

"Aren't your parents sleeping?" I whispered.

He shook his head. "They're visiting my folks in Virginia."

"Oh," I mumbled, feeling stupid as I stood there in my pajama pants (which happened to be covered in ponies) and a long-sleeved soccer shirt that I had stolen from him months ago, but had never returned.

I watched him walk lazily towards his door and flick on the light. We both winced, taking a few moments to let our eyes adjust.

He sunk down into his black comforter, and patted the space beside him. I joined him, suddenly wishing I was no longer here. But then again, it was better than being at home.

"You cold?" he asked gently.

I nodded and he stood up and went over to his closet, pulling out a hoodie and tossing it in my general direction. I reached out to catch it and promptly pulled the large hoodie over my head. He sat back down beside me.

"So your parents…" he scratched his head and paused, looking as if he was in deep thought, "are getting a divorce."

"Yes, I do believe I mentioned that." I wiped a falling tear away.

"So, how do you-"

He didn't get very far with whatever therapist-like question he was about to ask because I interrupted him. Loudly. "And they think…they think they can just go ruin my life! Yeah, well…fuck them!" I breathed out heavily and he sighed from beside me.

"Why'd they suddenly spring this on you?"

I shrugged. "The hell I know."
He gave an exasperated sigh. Even when we had been on good terms, I had still constantly managed to piss him off.

"Well, did anything happen tonight?"

I shrugged again. "They had a major fight at dinner."

"About?" he prodded.

I shrugged for the third time in about thirty seconds. "I don't know and I…I don't care!"

I wasn't looking at him, but I was sure he was smirking.

"Mature," he finally said.

I turned to glare at him, and then began another immature rant. "And I feel like there's no reason to even be upset!" I exclaimed. "I feel like a fucking cry baby and I fucking hate myself for it."

He glanced over at me for a moment, before turning back around to stare at the Kurt Cobain poster. Then he sighed as he fell back onto his bed.

"Why do you feel like you've got no reason to be upset?" he asked gently. Normally, I would've yelled at him for talking to me so sweetly and gently as if I was a fucking temperamental four -year-old, but at this point I was too stressed out and pissed off to care.

"Because!"

"Because?"

"Yeah, because."

He sighed. "You've got plenty of reasons to be upset. You grew up with these two people who supposedly "love each other" and now they're taking away everything you know," he said.

I bit my lip in thought. "That could be part of it," I finally said, feeling stupid.

"You think?" he said, a smile tugging at his lips. Then he got serious again all of a sudden. And I hated serious. "Why'd you come to me, Sam?"

I froze. Why did I come to him? How was I even supposed to answer that question? I mean, I had plenty of other friends that would've been more than willing to talk to me at 1:30 in the morning. And all of my friends would've been far more willing to talk and far more helpful and sympathetic than he was.

"I don't know," I finally answered in a whisper. And I couldn't really control myself at this point. "I don't fucking know, okay?" I stood up angrily all of a sudden and began screaming. It sure was a good thing he was an only child. "I don't fucking know who I am and what I'm doing here and why…why my entire life is falling apart!" I burst into tears once again, and suddenly wondered if perhaps I was pregnant or something because I was having mood swings like a freaking…well, pregnant woman.

Suddenly, I felt him wrap his arms around me. "Shh," he soothed. "It's gonna be okay, alright? I'm here for you, Sam."

I cried into his chest and wrapped my arms around him tightly. And we stood there for a good twenty minutes, just him supporting my weak, pathetic self as I cried and cried and cried.

"You mean that?" I said suddenly, pulling my head back slightly to stare up at him after an unbelievably long silence.

"Do I mean what?" he asked softly, a hand on the back of my head, holding it to his chest.

"Do you really mean that you're here for me?"

He pulled away from me finally and leaned down slightly so that we were at eye-level.

"Of course I mean that, Sam. I've always been here for you, and I always will be."

"But-"

"I know, I know," he said. "I said that I would never be there for you four months ago, but Sam, I was angry. We were both angry. You, for instance, told me that if I were to be reincarnated, in my next life I would be a cockroach, infesting a dirty apartment in Seattle, home to an aspiring musician who was destined for failure and nothing more. We both said some pretty nasty things, okay? But we'll always have that connection, you know?"

My lips curled into a small smile.

"I think I love you," I said softly, after a few moments of silence. I backed away from him slightly and looked up to see if I could read his facial expression. At first, he appeared to be positively shocked. Then, he appeared to be thoughtful. Then simply confused.

"I think," he began, his eyebrows furrowed. Then he stopped himself and sighed. "I think that you're really emotional right now and you're not thinking straight."

I swallowed. "I…" I wiped a tear from under my eyes and begged myself not to cry. Not again. Not here, not now. "I'm thinking straight. I've felt this way for a long time." Then I burst into tears.

"Sam, wait." He took a step towards me, but I backed away, vaguely registering that I had slammed my back against his wall.

"N-no," I said, my lips trembling and my words probably impossible to understand through all the tears. "I-I'm an idiot." The screaming began again. "I shouldn't have fucking come here! Why did I fucking come here? I'm an idiot, such a fucking idiot!" I began walking towards the window, but his calm voice stopped me. He was so calm and collected that it pissed me off. I wanted him to be angry that I was being so loud and screaming, but he never really yelled at me. Ever. He was always so goddamn calm.

"You came here because I've always been there for you."

I turned around and looked at him. Him standing there in checkered pajama pants and a short-sleeved gray shirt supporting the college his father taught at.

"Yeah. Thanks for that," I sniffled. He nodded.

I turned back towards the window and attempted to open it.

"Do you honestly think I'm letting you walk home?" he asked, sounding rather amused. I wasn't exactly sure how this situation was at all amusing.

"I walked here, intent upon informing you of my parents divorce, and I plan on walking home," I practically hissed, which was followed my sniffling and a few attempts to regain control of myself.

"No," he said softly, crossing his arms over his chest, "You walked here, but you were intent upon seeing where we stood. Maybe you thought you were coming here just to talk about the divorce, but deep down you were really coming to find out exactly where we stand as of now."

I glared at the window and then turned around again, my glare now directed at him. I was still crying, but the tears had almost immediately turned into tears of anger.

"Oh, you think you're so fucking smart, don't you? Well maybe, Mr. Smartass, you'd be interested to know that you haven't got me figured out one bit…that you don't even know me!"

He smirked and I dug my fingernails into my palm angrily.

"I'm not too sure about that, Sam."

I felt like clawing his fucking eyes out. Stupid bastard. Instead of pouncing on him like an angry house cat, I dug my fingers harder into my palm until my palm actually began to bleed. I didn't really notice it until his eyes widened slightly.

"Fucking masochistic idiot," he muttered. Before I could really register what was going on, he had grabbed my wrist tightly and was pulling me towards his bathroom.

"Let go of me you…you sexual harasser!"

"Naw," he said turning his head around slightly to glance back at me, "I'd only be a sexual harasser if I did this."

I felt myself being shoved against the wall just outside of his bathroom, and suddenly his lips were on mine and his hands were everywhere. And I mean everywhere. I tried not to get lost in the kiss like I knew he was trying to do, and I finally managed to get him off of me. He just chuckled to himself and grabbed my wrist once again, dragging me into the bathroom. He flicked on the light and I was just pissed off beyond believe because he had gotten me beyond horny and he fucking knew it.

"Sit," he instructed me, pointing towards the counter. He got out a first aid kit that only he'd be pathetic enough to buy, and he grabbed my wrist and turned my hand over so my palm was up.

"Man," he said smugly," I must've really pissed you off…"
"I fucking hate you," I hissed, honest-to-God meaning it at the moment.

"Why? Because I made you want to fuck or because I got you pissed off?"
"At this moment, I'd rather fuck a turtle."

"Male or female?"

"Either."

"Now that would be difficult. How do you even fuck a turtle?"

I winced as he began cleaning out the four small cuts I had made. I pulled my hand away after a few moments.

"Sam, if I don't clean this then your cuts could get infected."

I glared at his stupid self. "I can do it myself," I gritted out between clenched teeth. I reached for the alcohol wipe he was using, but he pulled it out of my grasp. I knew if I pounced on him, I'd send the two of us flying through the shower curtain and into the bath tub. His head would then collide with the tiled wall and he'd be bleeding like fucking crazy. His brains would probably be all over the place, too. Initially, it was a very satisfying idea, but then I thought about the consequences if he really did die. I would be fucked and tried for murder. Plus, I had just turned eighteen and I could now be put in jail.

"You have trouble putting on a fucking band-aid, Sam," he reminded me.

"Just…" I felt exhausted all of a sudden. "Just let me go home. I'm tired and I wanna go home," I said softly.

"Sam, do you know how dangerous the streets of Chicago are at night?"

"I got here fine."

"Doesn't mean you'll get back okay."

"I'm serious. I just wanna go home. I feel so…"

"Overwhelmed, Sam. You feel overwhelmed."

He was suddenly being all sweet again, and I just wanted to be in his arms.

'Yeah. Overwhelmed," I echoed weakly.

"Hey," he said, placing a bandage on my hand. Then he placed two fingers underneath my chin, and lifted it up so our eyes locked. "I'm not going anywhere. Ever."

I bit my lip as he wiped away a few tears with the pad of his thumb.

"But everyone always leaves me," I said softly. "First my best friend, then Renee, and now my dad. You could be next."

"But I won't be."

I swallowed and looked away, but he forced me to look back at him.

"Sam, I-"

But I pushed myself off the counter and shoved past him, this time heading for the stairs. However, he grabbed my elbow before I even reached the staircase. I turned towards him angrily.

"What're you gonna do? Touch me so I wanna fuck? Demand that I stay because it's too "dangerous" for a young lady such as I to walk home?" I hissed sarcastically.

"Sam, stop it, okay? There's no need to get worked up again."

"I…I don't want them to get a divorce," I said suddenly, vulnerability evident in my voice.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around me again. I inhaled his scent and sighed contentedly as he kissed the top of my head.

"I know, Baby, I know…"

He pulled away.

"C'mon," he said. "Let's go sleep, okay?"

"In the same bed?" I squeaked, almost positive that if he was sleeping beside me I wouldn't be able to resist…well…you get it.

He chuckled softly. "I won't try anything, I swear, okay? I was just trying to piss you off before. Plus, I'd feel bad fucking you in your state of vulnerability."
I glared at him as he laughed and wrapped an arm around my shoulder as we walked back towards his bedroom.

"I'm not vulnerable," I huffed.

We reached his room and he turned towards me, suddenly looking sort of nervous.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

He ignored me. "Do you really love me?"

I held my breathe and finally exhaled. "Yes," I replied quietly.

"Good."
"Wh-?"

"Because I love you too."

Before I could register anything, he had grabbed my face in his hands and was kissing me more passionately than he ever had before. After I had practically sucked his face off, he pulled away.

"You're strong, Sam. And you'll get through this shitty divorce."

I bit my bottom lip and finally allowed myself a full smile. "Only if you're right beside me."

He rolled his eyes and groaned as he crossed his arms over his chest. "That was unbelievably corny."

I grinned. "Well, you have to say that you'll be right beside me."

He rolled his eyes again. "Fine. Of course I'll be right beside you."

"Good."

I sort of jumped on top of him after that and it turns out he was convinced that I was no longer too vulnerable to fuck.

---

Authors Note: My other computer crashed and I had this story written in one of my old notebooks that I was reading through, so I decided to type it up on this SHITTY, old computer and revise it a bit and then I felt like posting it! So yay! Please review if you read because I'm still sort of new to one-shots and I'd really appreciate some constructive criticism. So I hope you guys liked it and have a great night!