everything's fucked// james cook

part 20: pillock

"Where the hell do you think you're going, princess?" Cook said, propping his head up with his arm. 

"I'm hungry," I said, slipping on pants and a shirt. "It's time for dinner."

"Yeah, no, go lie down princess," he said, slipping out of bed. 

I rolled my eyes, and watch him turn his back to me as he looked for his clothes, the moonlight shining through the curtains and lighting up his pale skin. 

"Nice arse," I smirked, as he dug under the piles of clothes that adorned my bedroom floor, bending over to give me a good view.

An idea sparked in my head, and I jumped back in bed, grabbing my thong from under the covers and holding it between my fingers. 

He stopped to watch me, and looked confused at the mischievous grin stretched across my face. 

"Fuck no, princess," he said slowly as he realized what I wanted him to do. 

"Come on, James," I wheedled, trying to convince him. "It's funny," I added with a pout.

He crossed his arms over his chest, his arm muscles bulging so his tattoos stood out prominently. 

"No fucking way, Vi," he said more seriously this time.

"Don't be a pussy, Cook," I said, trying to get a reaction out of him.

He tensed his jaw, looking away, and then looked back with a sigh. 

"Fuck you, Vivian," he said, as I tossed him my underwear. 

After he put it on, he stuck his head out of my room, and slowly walked towards the stairs. 

I laid back on my bed with a grin, waiting for him to come back. I stared at the ceiling, realizing for the first time in a while, I was happy. I hadn't had an episode for over a week now, and things in my life were finally alright again. 

Everything was slowly tilting back to normal. Although things were different, not exactly the same as they were before, they felt right. My dad was home, Bea was taken care of, Mum was getting better, and now I had Cook and new friends. 

I smiled softly to myself, and then heard something downstairs. I crept out of my room, and down the stairs until I could peer through the banister into the room below. My golden hair fell into my face, knotted and matted, and I made a mental note to brush it. 

I looked into the living room, where I saw my dad sitting on a sofa, the tv on playing the nightly news. 

My dad wasn't watching the television, however; his gaze was squarely fixed on Cook, who he had obviously just caught raiding the fridge almost naked. 

"Hiya, Mr. Easton, how are you?" Cook said with a grin.

Tosser.

♕⋆♕⋆♕

It was a little uncomfortable the next morning, my dad and I awkwardly eating breakfast and avoiding eye contact. Of course, Cook was oblivious to the whole situation. His sole focus was how many pieces of toast he could eat in a time frame of five minutes.

I finished my breakfast as soon as possible, and pulled Cook out the door. I breathed in the crisp morning air, smiling at the sun's warmth on my face.

"Fucking sun's in my eyes," Cook grumbled, shielding his face with his arms. 

"Ugh, you're a baby," I said, grabbing his hand and dragging him out of the gate and down the road.

He laced our fingers together, then pulled a small flask out of his pants and took a swig.

"Whiskey?" I asked.