InsaneJournal

Who: Rose DeWitt Bukater and Jack Dawson
What: A date~
When: Early August
Where: A block/beach party.
Warnings/Status: None.
Status: Complete



“Now,” Jack began, stepping out of the restaurant - which was actually a fairly nice place, good ambiance, food was reasonably price and actually good, appetizers and dessert sandwiching the main course. “Is this counting as our first date, or second? You know, Disney.” Which they attended in the company of Gale and his French dame, coincidentally during the opening of hell’s mouth. Turns out it was a little hard to differentiate between rollercoaster screams and screams generated from watching demons crawl out of a hole, but hey. They were learning.

This time he was holding her hand more intimately, not just to lead her through a throng of children and mothers. Tonight it was a leisurely walk, the temperature cooled down considerably at night, and there was some block party celebration not too far from them. Music (the latest pop sensation bullcrap that caused a wince), the smell of fried food in the air, stands of drinks. Live entertainment in a couple corners, stands selling homemade merchandise. Wouldn’t hurt to pass through it, yeah?

Rose knew she shouldn’t be surprised at what a good time she was having so far this evening. The previous dates she had gone on had almost universally bored her to tears, but then, they had all been with Cal. Besides, she suspected that it would be hard to have a bad time with Jack, even if everything was going wrong. She enjoyed the feel of Jack’s palm against hers, and she leaned her arm against him

“I think in order for a date to count, someone has to actually call it a date,” she teased, bumping against him. She couldn’t help but notice the party, so she asked, “what’s going on over there?” Jack seemed a little interested in it, whatever it was.

“I think Gale and I secretly referred to it as some kind of double date,” Jack crookedly grinned, squeezing that petite hand of hers - and then he just anchored her close, letting his arm drape around her shoulder instead. “We’re doing this in a whole less scandalous way then -”

Ah, wait, hold up. Not the way he wanted to really tell her about their whole romantic rendezvous destined for tragedy, that was ultimately an affair while she was engaged (more accurately chained) to Cal. Still a thing he wanted her to see for herself, but he’d hinted enough at it. So he’d just act like he was distracted by her question, chin raised. “Block party,” he explained. “Looks like kind of a hippie one, too - you wanna see what’s up? Maybe even do something crazy and buy you a beer. It’ll be our little secret.”

Rose smiled and wrapped her arm around Jack’s back. She was a little surprised just how comfortable she felt with him, like this. “I might have secretly thought of it as a date too,” she admitted.

She almost asked him to clarify the scandalous comment, but when he mentioned the block party and asked if she wanted to go, she all but forgot about it. “Oh, you rebel you,” she smiled. “I would love to go see what it’s all about. It may surprise you, but I didn’t go to many block parties when I was living in Philadelphia.”

“Well, block parties aren’t exactly one of those hoity-toity high-end society events your mom could find you a husband in,” Jack smirked. “I’m picturing the look of disdain she’d get if she saw a glimpse of all this - probably the same way she looked at me.” Like he was a roach, a vermin, to be squashed beneath her designer shoes while her nose was arrogantly stuck in the air. He didn’t mean to speak ill of her mother - she was still blood to Rose - but family had the worst ways of hurting you. It’d practically driven Rose to suicide in the dreams, caused her to run away here, and both times her hand had been practically sold to a man just to put her mother back at ease for their finances.

It was complete bullshit, but thankfully Rose was smart. Had that classy fire of determination that could keep her going, and maybe, just maybe, things could end up differently here. For the both of them.

Music grew louder the closer they got. There were art stands, face painters, an independent show of bellydancers, vendors selling drinks and snacks and he gravitated to where the booze was, stepping away briefly from Rose to procure them cheap beer in plastic cups. “You drank like a pro when you partied with us poor people, by the way,” he told her, handing hers over. “That true here?”

Rose would have laughed if she couldn’t picture the exact look that Jack probably got from her mother, and that was especially disappointing because Jack had saved Rose’s life, and if her mother couldn’t be gracious for at least that, then, well, there really wasn’t any hope for her. “Well, Mother has no taste,” she said. “She’d probably have a heart attack if she knew what I was doing.”

She couldn’t help but look around in wonder as they moved into some of the chaos. She really had never been to anything quite this, for lack of a better word, chaotic. The parties she had gone to growing up had involved live classical music, fancy dress, and a lot of standing around making pleasant small-talk. This party was alive, with kids chasing each other and loud boisterous laughter coming from somewhere.

She took the beer and flashed Jack a somewhat mischievous smile. While Rose mostly drank champagne and wine at dinner (beer was far too uncouth for Ruth), one of her uncles on her father’s side had often snuck beers at fancy parties after her father had passed. “You’ll just have to find out, now won’t you?” she asked, holding her beer glass to cheers Jack. She did have some skills at in chugging beer.

Oh jesus. Jack recognized that impish quirk of her mouth. Meant nothing but trouble. “Color me officially intrigued, Miss.” Cheers, then - he tapped their not-so-classy cups together before taking the first chug. Cheap, honey-colored, with a hint of flavor he could only describe as piss (not that he knew from experience), but other than that it passed. He wasn’t picky. Better than the stuff they served in the Third Class level on that damn boat, anyway.

“And since it’s your first time out and about in something like this…” His arm slipped around her shoulder again, gently guiding them through the crowd, but he’d go anywhere Rose wanted to stop. This ‘party’ seemed to stretch out pretty long, actually; probably towards the beach, where they likely had other shenanigans brewing. People dancing around bonfires, probably smoking or snorting something illegal. Hipsters and hippies. Wasn’t all that bad. “You can pull me whatever direction you want and we’ll do whatever. Might as well get used to these. Classes are gonna start up, you’re gonna wanna assimilate to the college life.”

Rose chugged back her first beer, not quite finishing it off but coming pretty close. She wasn't sure if she had ever had beer that was quite so cheap, but it wasn't too terrible and she managed to get it down, giving Jack and almost triumphant smile.

She let Jack guide her through the crowd, drinking in the sights and the sounds and the smells. She felt a little out of place, though less so with Jack next to her. Some of the food stalls smelled delicious in the way only far-too-greasy junk food could, and had she not just finished eating she may have stopped at one. She already felt happier being at this block party than she had at any of the parties - mostly charity balls and fundraisers - back home.

"Oh Jack, we must get our faces painted," Rose said, pointing toward a young woman who was just finishing up painting a child's face to look like one of the Ninja Turtles. "Please?"

Jesus christ, yeah, he’d eat those words - she was the Rose he knew and loved over there, the society girl full of surprises. Don’t mind that look of utmost pride at her packing it away, and he dropped a kiss to her cheek. “Remind me to buy you good beer next time - this is tolerable, but still shit, and the only thing they had.”

His cup was half-empty by the time she declared her activity of choice. He almost choked a bit; mostly from amusement, the other bit from liquid piss ambrosia going down the wrong tube. “Face painting,” he repeated, then used his sleeve to wipe his wet mouth. “Well, alright, if the lady wants our faces to get painted, then hell yeah, we’ll get our faces painted.”

Jack didn’t know about the Ninja Turtles Part, but he saw some Nightmare before Christmas designs and had already honed in onto the look he wanted. He was a prime example of adulthood and maturity, honest.

Rose coloured slightly when Jack kissed her cheek, though she still preened just a little. She really did enjoy surprising people sometimes. "This beer is terrible," She said, laughing. "I'm so glad it's not just me who thinks so.

She couldn't hide the excitement on her face when he agreed to the face painting. She knew it was juvenile, though growing up she had always admired some of the great face painting she had seen as a kid and had always been disappointed that her mother refused to let her get anything. She glanced through the designs and settled on a nice butterfly one.

“Damn, Rose, you’re living dangerously. What are you gonna do next, dye your hair? Get a piercing?” Jack was kidding, all in a well-mannered way - she was free from her constraints, she could do whatever she wanted (within reason), and honestly, he had a damn hard time seeing her mother indulge her in innocent things like face painting.

It’s the little things.

His choice was a Jack Skellington design - simple, but easily recognizable, plus points for the name. “Or a tattoo,” he smirked, dragging a stool by sit close. Ladies first. “Is this what it is? You prepping up for one? You little rebel.”

“You caught me Jack,” Rose said after she pointed out the design she wanted, a nice pink and purple butterfly to sprawl across her face. “Though I figure if I’m going to get a big face tattoo, I should probably see how it looks first. Wouldn’t that make Mother proud.” She was joking, of course. Tattoos could certainly be beautiful on some people, and there had been times when she had thought of getting a small ankle tattoo just for the sake of annoying her mother, but it had never been anything more than a passing fantasy, and one she never had any intention of actually acting out on.

The paint was colder than Rose had expected, and felt a little strange once it had dried, but the woman was quick and Rose’s butterfly was done within a couple of minutes. “What do you think?’ she asked when she turned to face Jack.

“As much as you’d be my goddamn hero for that,” laughed Jack, watching the strokes of color brush against her face until it took a more recognizable design - he already dished out the couple dollars for this, it was all for a local artist anyway. “Can’t see you going through with it. Maybe a rebellious little piercing, something small that would reaaaally get to her. But let’s keep it temporary for now; we’ll see what looks good on you first.”

Which, hey, if she wanted a butterfly tattoo piece on her face - wouldn’t look to bad, actually. Huh. “Looks pretty good!” It was his turn next; the woman began getting out her whites and blacks. “You sure you don’t want to get a tattoo? Hell, I’d even draw one for you if you let me.”

That’d be an idea. Jack kinda made shit when it came to the conventional ways of art; murals and portraits, it was all based on commission and nothing steady. He had the artistic background for a tattoo artist position. Maybe. He’d have to go through the hoops of an apprenticeship, figure out the equipment, but...not a bad idea, if he wanted something with more stability.

“Maybe a cute little nose stud,” Rose said. The idea was intriguing maybe, and piercings at least could be taken out whenever she got tired of it.

The idea of getting a tattoo that Jack designed was actually an intriguing one. Having a bit of his art on her skin forever. It certainly warranted more consideration. More time, too. She had only just met Jack, and while maybe the fact that the shared the same Dreams meant that there was something more to their relationship, it really was too early to tell. “We’ll see about that,” she said instead. “Do you have any tattoos, Jack?”

“Naaaaaaaah,” he said, a wave of his hand - and then proceeded to stay mostly still so his face would actually look like the design in the picture. It was a little hard to mess this one up anyway; they’d cover his face in white and then follow up with black strokes in the respective areas. “Too expensive. Maybe one day I’ll use my own body as a canvas of art, but it was really rare if I ever even had fifty bucs on me at once. I mean, hell, when I first got here? Someone tried to mug me and was really confused as to why I only had lint, cigarettes, and gum in my pocket.”

Literally, that’s all Jack had to his name but lately he’d been doing well. Odd jobs here and there, and eventually he’d look for something permanent. He thought about barking up at Neal and seeing if he needed extra man hands at the ranch for hard labor. He’d been toying with the idea of staying here for a good while, setting some roots before picking up and exploring again. And he was a minimalist - he knew he wanted to go overseas, see the other side of the world. Just wasn’t too feasible right now.

Rose laughed at that image, picturing the look on that poor muggers face. “Well, that’s one way to deter crime. Though look at you now, taking girls out on dates. You’re moving up in the world, Mr. Skellington.” She actually found it a little admirable that Jack was able to go around with nothing to his name but gum, smokes, and lint. Rose would never be able to do something like that, mostly because she liked having her things with her. Even running away from home she had brought several suitcases worth of her favourite possessions - old books, paintings, clothing. Travelling light was not a concept that Rose was familiar with, nor was it one she particularly wanted to become familiar with.

“I know, I’m proud of myself,” he squinted an eye shut - they’d been shading over it now, bleach white. “This place just sucks you in and I’m not sure if it’ll ever spit me out. Not anytime soon, anyway.” He had Wendy, Katou, Gale and Raven all here. And not to mention Rose, in the flesh, pink cheeked and redhaired and maybe not as snooty as he dream of, but she was here and it wasn’t a coincidence. He was anchored down firmly for the time being.

There, done. Like he stepped out of the movie, almost - at least half his face. “We look so damn mature. Adults walking around with face paint. I’m wearing this shit proudly.”

“I’m glad,” Rose said, smiling a little. “I’d be rather disappointed if you left any time soon. I rather like having you around.” She knew that Jack had lived life as a bit of a vagabond for most of his life, but he did seem pretty happy here in the Orange County. She hoped that he’d be around for a while yet before he got itchy feet again.

“As you should,” she said, holding her head high as if she was being announced at some socialite event. “Your face paint is quite dashing.” Well, about as excellent as a couple of minutes in a chair and a sponge could do. “Would you be interested in headed down to the beach?” Rose could hear some music coming from that way, and it certainly seemed as though it would be entertaining. Perhaps she and Jack would even be able to have a dance or two together.

Good thing it wasn’t hot as balls outside that he’d sweat it off, and he’d have to be mindful about itchy face instances - he didn’t want to smudge the face art and ruin his money’s worth, thanks. “If the lady wants the beach, the lady gets the beach,” he grinned, charming and boyish, and splayed his hand against the small of her back. It was only a few blocks down but the sea salt was heavy in the air with a hint of humidity and breeze. Drown out the sound of voices and music, they could almost hear the crash of waves.

The ocean was beautiful, even if they might meet their deaths in it.

It didn’t take long for their feet to meet sand and tonight, several bonfires had been lit, the shore aligned with all kinds of social groups and entertainment. Local musicians on their banjos and guitars using the sheer strength of their vocals to be heard.

“Do you…” A sudden question hit his tongue. “Remember the part, where we talked about all sorts of things we wanted to do? Once we got off the boat?”

Rose did love the ocean. It was terrifying, with it’s size and the strength of its storms, mysterious and unknowable. And she dreamed of being on a ship that, historically, sunk and took 68% of the people onboard with it. Once she had started reading about the Titanic, she was less afraid for her own safety - almost 100% of First Class women had survived, but she was even more frightened for Jack’s. There had been less than 60 men out of the 450 in Third Class who had survived, and Rose prayed that Jack was one of them. Despite the terror the ocean held, Rose still found some peace in it, and she breathed deep the salty air as she took in the party in front of her.

“I’m afraid I haven’t made it that far yet,” Rose said, and she regretted it. “The last I’ve dreamed is when Cal so graciously invited you to dine with us.”

Ah, Cal. Sleazy son of a bitch, that guy - Jack always had an inkling he was a piece of shit, and it’d only been supported when he 1) framed him and 2) decided to go apeshit and shoot at them while the ship sunk. Extremities he hadn’t shared with her, and he wished he could talk to her about them. But the time would come. Rose would get there too, he just…

Didn’t want to spoil her.

In his pocket was his cigarette pack, and he’d gotten one for himself (also offered the lady one, too), and he covered the lighter so the wind wouldn’t snuff the flame. A couple huffs, and the cigarette ignited. “We talk about a couple things we were gonna do, after we got off the boat. One thing being in Santa Monica, and since we’re already in in California…”

Better now than 1912, yeah?

“I should show you the cigarette holder I got from my dreams,” Rose said, smiling as she took the smoke from Jack. She didn’t bring it out with her, but she had used it a couple of times at home, and it was certainly more elegant than just smoking without one. “I feel like Audrey Hepburn every time I use it.”

Her face broke into a smile when Jack mentioned Santa Monica. “Are you inviting me to Santa Monica with you?” Rose asked.

“I remember the one,” he laughed, smoke filtering from his mouth. Before them was the blanket of the sea, vast and seemingly endless. Seasalt and the waves, the sensory memories almost brought him right back onto the boat. If it’d been cold, he’d practically swear he was there.

Odd feeling, but one he couldn’t shake. It stuck with him.

Jack swiped his nose, cautious about half his face, before grinning. “Probably. Actually, yeah. That’s exactly what I’m doing. Might take a bit with money and school coming up for you, but it gives us something to look forward to, yeah?”

“I would love to go to Santa Monica with you,” Rose exclaimed. “I’ve always wanted to see the pier. Perhaps we could try for Veteran's Day weekend?” It was a long ways away, but a long weekend away could be nice and it would give them time to save more money.

She would have to start squirreling away some money for it soon regardless. She had been doing rather well so far at adjusting to actually needing to earn her money and only having that to spend, though after all her expenses she had a lot less money than she had thought she would working two jobs. Still, there were some expenses she could probably afford to cut, like her daily sparkling latte, to put some money away for a weekend in Santa Monica.

She reached for Jack’s hand to twine her fingers with his. “I’m so happy I met you.”

Hey, might have been a long ways away but they’d at least have a goal to work towards to. Which...didn’t happen with Jack, not by much. His sight towards the future was minimal and he should probably change that mindset - he couldn’t go where the wind took him all the time. “Doable,” he said, brow raised as he attended to his cigarette. The seabreeze took the wisps of nicotine smoke with it, mixed with fire sparks and the scent of burning wood. “Very doable. Sounds like a damn good plan.”

Now he’d really have to hit Neal up, see if there was anything opening up at the Ranch. Steady work, not something flakey like commissionable artwork or projects for people he knew here and there. Something he had a schedule with.

Thoughts of that were disturbed quick - but a welcomed distraction nonetheless, and he found himself tightening his grip on her fingers. Almost like their hands fit perfectly, and hers belonged right there with him. “Happy I met you too,” Jack chuckled around the bleach-white stick. “And under way better circumstances.”

This time they didn’t have anything against them, did they?

Rose couldn’t remember ever feeling this happy before. When she had left Pennsylvania for the Orange County, she had been happy, yes, but it was the kind of happiness that weighed heavily on one’s heart, where one knew that what they were doing was best, but it was scary and uncertain. But this was a happiness that wasn’t marred by any uncertainty. She had been attracted to Jack from the first time she had seen him, felt some sort of connection to him, and the idea of going on a small road trip with him was the sort of happiness that left no room for unease.

It felt right then to reach up on her tip toes, placing her hand that wasn’t holding Jack’s on the side of his face, and kissing him, not being too concerned about the possibility of smudging his face paint. Kissing Jack was better than Rose could have expected, despite the taste of tobacco and facepaint, and she felt as though she could finally understand what people meant when they said they had butterflies in their stomach. Perhaps the Titanic in her Dreams would sink, but here, in California, standing on the beach with Jack, she didn’t need to think of that. She didn’t have to think about anything.