InsaneJournal

Day Sixteen - Morning
Who: Andy Gallagher and OTA
What: Andy finds his van
Where: In the carnival
When: Day 16; 10am or so
Rating: PG-13 (language maybe)
Status: Complete



After the day he'd had yesterday, Andy slept like a log. His body was tired, his mind was tired, and he was completely and totally drained. He'd awoken that morning with Elliot in his arms and a mouthful of her hair - well, not really, but it was the principal of it; a stiff neck, an aching back, and something jabbing into his side as he rolled away from Elliot to stretch. With an angry, half-awake mutterance, he'd reached underneath himself and extracted the culprit before sitting up. It had felt like a set of keys...because it had been. His keys. Andy's face had fallen into that of a kicked puppy expression; they were messing with him again. Sighing, he'd tucked Elliot's hair behind her ear to get it out of her face and woke her just enough to let her know he was going to head up to the gas station to grab them breakfast and he'd be right back.

The hoodie he'd been wearing was slung over his shoulder as Andy headed up the road toward the carnival that he'd cut through to go the shorter way to the gas station. It was hot as hell, not that he was complaining. It just hadn't registered until he'd gotten out under the cloudless sky where the sun was shining brightly. So brightly, even, that he extracted from the pocket the aviators Sam had given him the morning they'd found the body hanging from the clock tower. Slipping them on, he made his way into the carnival, almost enjoying the feel of his car keys jabbing into his leg from inside his jeans pocket. Almost...because they were still only the keys and that was just mean, he thought.

Just as Andy came around from behind the tea cups ride to cross the street and nab some munchies, he stopped dead in his tracks. No fucking way! "Ohhh! Oh, baby!" he cooed loudly, making a break for it and all but slamming himself up against the warrior princess painted on the side of his van. "Oh shit, Maggie, I missed the hell out of you!"

For a few moments, Andy just stood there, leaned against the van, only barely refraining from actually kissing Maggie, Queen of the Polar Bears (as he'd dubbed her) painted on the side. Finally, realizing all over again that he had the keys, Andy pulled them out of his pocket and moved over, jamming them into the keyhole. Taking a deep breath and thinking to himself, Please God..., he turned the key. The lock popped up with a low thunk and Andy's eyes widened. "Are you serious?! Oh fuck yeah! YES!" he shouted, extracting the keys and pulling the door open, hopping in to settle into the driver's seat and putting the keys into the ignition to try his luck again.

The engine roared to life and Andy's lips parted as he let out a sigh of relief. "...I think I just came," he laughed to himself, running his hands lovingly over the steering wheel and dashboard. The radio was silent and Andy looked over at the display, confused. The current track was over and the two-second silence at the beginning of the next song was counting back. -0:02, -0:01, 0:00---

"Before you slip into unconsciousness,
I'd like to have another kiss.
Another flashing chance at bliss,
Another kiss, another kiss..."

"Shit, I missed you, Jim," Andy said quietly, leaning over the passenger seat and feeling around for his stash. Hell yeah, right where he left it. Suddenly, Andy's eyes grew wide and he threw the door open again, jumping back out and heading around to the back of the van to open that door. The disco ball still hung, the books and blankets and pillows were strewn haphazardly around on the mattress...and then his eyes fell on Moby Dick, still filled appropriately with water. "Nope. Now I just came," he said to himself, snatching up the massive bong and slamming the door shut behind himself again as he made his way back to the driver's seat.

The Doors blared from his speakers as Andy turned back the key to keep from wasting the half tank of gas he still had left in the tank. And Andy?

Smoke filled the van, pouring out the driver's side window he'd rolled down as the telltale sound of bubbles and suction in the base of the bong filled his ears. Shit, he had missed that more than he'd really realized until he heard it again. Between the first couple of hits, he'd scribbled a note in his journal. Fuck the church and fuck those pews. Andy was sleepin' right where he wanted to be. In his own bed, in his own home; in the back of the motherfucking van. Because, the way Andy figured it, he deserved to after yesterday. Hell yeah he did.