Theresa "Tess" Servopoulos (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dog_eat_dog) wrote2020-08-19 11:59 pm
dog_eat_dog) wrote2020-08-19 11:59 pm
OPEN POST
canon, AU, cross-canon, assumed CR, etc etc etc, all welcome
canon, AU, cross-canon, assumed CR, etc etc etc, all welcome
canon, AU, cross-canon, assumed CR, etc etc etc, all welcome
no subject
Is that a film? Must be, if Tess is mentioning it in context with Nicholas Cage. What would Joel know about dance films. Aside from, say, Flashdance, way back when he was a teenager, which he definitely didn't watch for the plot. In any case, Save The Last... whatever it was Tess just said, sounds bad.
A wildly trivial and stupid issue next to their almost-fight earlier, but oscillating from stewing tension erupting between them to casually threatening each other with bad films and acting like nothing happened, is how he and Tess are. It's how it's been for years. Doing awful shit in order to get by and then carrying on like it's all just business as usual, is how they've always worked. They fuck people over, they take what's theirs without mercy, they kill, and then they come home and make dinner, talk shit and fuck. And sometimes make love, too. Sometimes.
And then the next shitty day rolls around and they do it all again without questioning themselves, because survival is cruel, ruthless and unsparing, and so are he and Tess. That's just how it has to be. He and Tess carry each other through it all and that's all that matters.
Bottle uncapped, Joel sloshes a helping into his glass, then Tess'. He returns the bottle to the table and gathers both glasses in his hands. He sidles towards Tess.
"I'm already bored to tears just hearin' the name," he retorts. Then he goes on to argue, stopping alongside Tess at their cramped kitchen counter to set her drink down in front of her, "Con Air is a masterpiece, I'll have you know. But I guess you wouldn't get it, bein' a woman and all."
Is Joel being a deliberately goading dick or actually casually sexist? Again, like his little kiss to Tess' cheek earlier that didn't clearly define his true intentions, it's impossible to say. Perhaps it's a little of both.
no subject
If it left this shitty little apartment, she’d have words, but here she laughs dismissively, leaning a hip against the counter.
“A masterpiece of what, over-acting?” she drawls, picking up her glass and raising it to his in a silent cheers. “Isn’t it just Die Hard on a plane? Come on, Tex.”
She knocks back half of her drink.
She will fight with him over movies any day, without hesitation, but it is more fun drunk.
no subject
He, too, takes a swig of his drink. This would be, what — his third finger of whiskey now? Fourth? He wasn't keeping count when he was slugging them back. Whatever. The booze's warming, dulling effects is beginning to soften the jagged, brittle edges of his shit-kicking day.
"Now you've crossed a line," Joel declares, glass lowered with a (playfully) threatening finger outstretched and pointed at Tess. "You asked me what show I'm takin' you to, and this is how you respond: With blasphemy."
no subject
"But you are taking me to a show?" she asks, with a little quirk of her eyebrows and a broad grin.
He's going to be plastered before long, and Tess will take her time catching up, at least until dinner's done. When the stove is off, so are the last vestiges of responsibility before caving into pure hedonism. She imagines them drinking everything they could sell, stumbling into bed too drunk to fuck, and spending all that time grinding on each other anyway. Whatever. They've earned it. They can always make more deals. Let this day die.
She dumps the turkey onto the plates.