Andy Gallagher is not the droid you're looking for (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} brain_ninja) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} vas_captio_rpg, |
He watched over his shoulder as she disappeared outside and then propped his elbow up on the arm of the pew, dropping his head into his hand and running his fingers through his now-matted hair. Why is there no fucking Chick Manual? he wondered. For the life of him, Andy thought he would never, ever understand women and the things that went through their heads.
Luna's footsteps echoed in the aisle of the church and Andy looked over his shoulder again. She'd gone to get the water all by herself without waiting for him to join her and he watched her all the way up to the point that she asked which injury first, pushing a piece of hair out of her face. He hadn't missed the way it had been stuck to her lips; because of it, he was staring at them and licking his own nervously.
The insinuation in her question was that she was offering to help him without his having asked. In his entire life, with the waffling exception of the Winchesters - who actually, when he thought about it, were really only helping themselves - no one had ever taken care of him. Ever. His mother had died when he was so young that the only memory of her that he possessed was based on photographs and the resentful glare he sometimes saw on his father's face when he'd thought Andy wasn't looking. He'd spent his teen years in a haze of smoke that hadn't cleared until three days ago in Cold Oak. He'd gone out of his way to be Andy the Jester for so long that he was pretty sure the only person who really knew who he was was Andy himself. Tracy didn't even know who he really was and she'd been the only serious girlfriend he'd ever really had; they'd told each other everything. So, that was saying an awful lot.
It wasn't that he felt badly for himself, because for the most part, he didn't. It was just that...there was this beautiful, extraordinarily unique, endearingly quirky woman looking down at him and offering to take care of him. And Andy didn't know what to do with that.
"Can I kiss you?" he blurted out, blinking with astonishment that the words had actually come out of his mouth when he'd really only meant to think them. Taking a deep breath and searching her eyes, he was quick to add, "please don't slap me." Because, really, that was all he needed to compound the situation.