InsaneJournal

Andrea Rojas loves shopping and breaking faces in. (avengingwarrior) wrote in wariscoming,
@ 2009-11-23 22:11:00

Entry tags:

andrea rojas, spike

WHO: Andrea Rojas and Spike
WHERE: Kitchens (Damn that place is busy :-P)
WHEN: Late ... after the Daleks ass kicking.
WHAT: Andrea gets pissed and Spike likes to get pissed and be a pain in the ass!
STATUS: Incomplete/Closed
Rating: Likely no more than PG-13, for drinking, bad words, and punching. Likely his nose, her fist.

She had issues. She didn't need anyone to tell her this, it was a known fact to herself that they were there. It was accepted, or at least she thought they had been, and there had been a willingness to move on from them. Not exactly in the coping sense. Because oh, no, that would be healthy and that currently wasn't on her agenda tonight. She had moved on from them in the sense that she'd acknowledged and set about working with the parts she wanted to work with. And avoiding the rest. There had been tons of avoidance on her end. About her feelings with her mother's death. Yes, she'd partially had her vengeance. Yes she'd created this vigilante, this image, this part of her that she didn't think she could trade for the world. Whether she wanted to or not. She still helped people. She didn't cry on her mother's birthday. Hell, it'd almost escaped her mind for worrying about everything, everyone, else. It would seem that everything had been resolved because she was putting one foot before the other and she was moving ... to some direction. Onwards march. However, nothing had truly been dealt with. Not emotionally. Not internally. There emotions inside of her and anger and resentment ... at who she didn't even want to consider. There were emotions inside of her that she had yet to face head on.

And she wouldn't be doing so tonight. Which was why she was down here, so late likely no one would be passing through unless for a late snack. Because thinking these heavy thinkity thoughts that buzzed around in her head would lead to emotional realese. No she was too good for that. Or bad, whatever. This currently wasn't moralistic. This was about issues. And she was going to drink them away. Just see if she didn't.

Andrea'd had never tried drinking til she was mind-numbingly drunk with her superpowers. With mutant DNA. She'd jumped right into the brooding and the ass-kicking. The drinking was a long time coming. Dios, she hoped that it didn't mess up her liver. With a sigh, Andrea managed to find the rum and other drinks that she would need to make a martini, mojitos and ... she liked her 'm' drinks and she was planning on doing this all night. Likely in her room. Though she would definitely start off in her kitchen.

Last thing she needed was Clark finding her here. Oh, Dios. She could just here it now. Clark was the reason why she was getting drunk. Clark. Ruby. Sam. Lois. Gwen. Kara. And stupid people who liked her stupid cake. And had she mentioned that she had issues? Shit. She was becoming part of a community. She was caring. She was making friends. She was doing what she swore that she wouldn't do. She was becoming attached. Yes, believe her you, she knew how whiny she sounded. Which was why she really avoided brooding and sulking and her emotions. Because she knew people had nothing and would give an arm and a leg and a part of their spleen to have what she was getting right now. The connections. But she'd give it all up in a heartbeat. Honestly she would. There was no way she was doing this again. No one was going have her care or her friendship, because everyone was going to die. Everyone here had a greater chance than any normal person of dying, and she really didn't want to go through with that. Not to mention being pulled back? Nuh-uh. No way. No how. There was no chance of it for her. It was lone wolf city for her and as selfish as it might make her seem. She was good with that. Honestly she was.

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avengingwarrior
2009-11-26 07:11 am UTC (link)

"That's is disgusting." It had to be said. It was disgusting. Likely he thought it was great and wonderful but did he have to do it here? In fact, why was she even staying in the kitchen? She had her own private one. Not that it mattered. She wasn't moving. She'd been there first. "Kara and Lois aren't boring."

Andrea took some of the rum, enjoying how it felt in her stomach. It was great. And now she could feel herself fall down the nice path of drunkeness. It would have been more of a pleasant tumble if the bleached menace hadn't been attempting to get her to play twenty questions with him. "Are you that bored that you have nothing better to do than attempt to pick at my motives and ... my life? If you're going to be interruptive at least ask fun questions. Like, do I have a tattoo. What positions do I like? What are the chances of me punching you in the nose if you don't shut up in three seconds? Not that I'd answer any of them either-except for the last one ... the answer is very, very high-but at least they'd give me more of a laugh. They're more fun too."

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blondie_bear
2009-11-27 05:34 am UTC (link)

Oh, like he bloody well cared if it was disgusting. Wasn't that the entire point of sitting here and pestering her in the first place? Making a show of it, Spike tipped the cup back and slurped the bloody concoction down loudly. "Mmm." Blood and alcohol alike staining his lips, he purposefully set his drink as close to Andrea as possible before propping his elbow up along the edge of the table and leaning slightly in her direction. Tongue darting out to lick his lips, he peered off at her and simply said, "Didn't answer my question there, sweetcheeks. Are they your friends or not? 'Cause if they are and you're denying their friendship when an innocent member of the public questions you about it, one would think that your friends would be terribly offended, don't you? But really - it's fine. It's expected for a woman like you to have her insecurities. I picked that bit up when I walked in and saw you drinking and sulking. Nice look for you, by the way. I'd prefer to view the party with you bearing a bit less clothing next time, but hey. I'll take what I can get."

He leaned in closer, no longer caring about the invasion of personal space. He was practically inches away from her face and Spike knew he was pushing it. But so what? It was what he did. He pushed. He pissed people off. Yet, surprisingly, sometimes he was right. And he often struck those important nerves in the process. "Punch me in the nose. I could use a little foreplay." He was smirking widely, not a care in the world. It wasn't surprising. Not when he was the one who had taunted the Slayer for years with those sarcastic remarks and slugs to the head as a result. He'd had worse.

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avengingwarrior
2009-11-27 06:05 am UTC (link)

Her hand shot out and grabbed his cup the second he put it down, turning to throw it easily at the garbage bin she'd put purposefully near by (for empty cups). With minimal splatter. She tried not to wince at the reddish droplets that spraying a bit onto the floor. She would have to get to that. Instead, she focused on the smugness. Go superagility. Before her powers, she wouldn't have been able to get it into the bin without making a mess, let alone managing to grab onto it that quickly.

Then Andrea frowned, looking at the bin and wondering if she'd have been able to make no mess if she hadn't been moving away from tipsy. There was a momentary plan of throwing half filled cups into garbage cans while she was drunk, just to see how much of a mess she could make. However, that thought process was cut off by his leaning in closer. Too close.

Despite the need to pull back, Andrea didn't give into it. She refused to give him that satisfaction. Instead she turned her head away from him and continued on with her drink. "I don't think they'd be that offended." She said. "And I don't get drunk naked. That way leads to bad times." Andrea looked back at him for a moment, before she took in a very long breath but one that rushed out too quickly, with too much force. It wasn't the breathing of someone trying to calm themselves or destress themselves. It was the one of someone who knew that they were loosing calm but didn't quite know how to let go of the act. Who wouldn't let go, because even if it was a false control, it was better than facing whatever the problem was. Coward's way? Maybe. But alcohol had some truths that she couldn't face head on at the moment. Or she might actually do something stupid ... like cry. Andrea had cried once since her mother's death and that had been that night, with the whole incident with Luthor ... and killing that man. It had been ... "What do you want, Spike?" She asked, weary. Warily. Her tone suspicious. Not even thinking about the fact that she had just used his name rather than call him sparky.

And that moment could have very easily been a moment of ... perhaps clarity but it could have been something. Except then she felt immensely uncomfortable. Out of sorts. As if she'd just given something away with the question but not yet knowing what. Which was why after shuffling her cup around, she reached out with one hand, firmly planted on his forehead, and just shoved him back. With her strength and with some quick thinking on his part, he would easily fall off the chair or fall straight back with it. If it had been anyone else, she wouldn't have done. It but she'd heard that he could take Buffy. And Buffy while not as strong as she was, coupled with her skill and her own slayer strength was quite formidable. Being shoved into the floor wouldn't kill him. Hopefully it hurt a bit.

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blondie_bear
2009-11-28 08:03 am UTC (link)

Spike wasn't easily pushed around. That was why he didn't expect for much to happen when Andrea reached out at him. Cocky as ever, he began to whip up as witty of a statement as he could muster...only to find himself flat on his back five seconds later. Shoulders planted to the ground, Spike looked up at the ceiling in momentary shock. Had that little girl just shoved him onto the floor with one hand? What the hell was he drinking? Hands to the ground, Spike pushed himself upward and, to prove that he wasn't intimidated at all, easily dropped back into the seat beside her once more. Rather than pretending to be hurt or offended, he merely turned, looked at her, and said, "If you wanted to play rough, you should have just said so, Skanky."

As always, it was his job to make up fun things to say when he was either hurt or embarrassed. Life was just so much easier that way.

"And now you have to make me a new drink. Get on it, sweetheart, I haven't got all - oh, wait. Yes, I do." He leaned against the table, looking her over curiously. There was certainly something special about her, and not in the 'oh, she's the chosen one' type of way either. "I want you to fess up to the fact that you're not in here because you were getting ready to pack up and go. You were hoping that someone would drop by." He smirked slightly. "I certainly wasn't what you were expecting, but for a girl who supposedly has no friends, why complain?"

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avengingwarrior
2009-11-28 08:30 am UTC (link)

Wasn't he resilient? Which she already knew but still, she was a bit impressed-and amused-by how quickly he'd brushed himself off and spouted out a comment. "I'll be sure to work on my method of delivery next time." She quipped sarcastically.

"I don't have to get you nada." Though her tone was relatively controlled for a person going onto drunk, there was a slight raising in octave as irritability made itself known to Spike. She was quite pissy when drunk. And irritated. "Fine. I was waiting for someone to find me in my drunk state and I am so glad that it's you. Here to irritate the hell out of me. How did you know Spike? How did you know that I was so desperate for company. Dios. You must be like, a psychic or something!" Andrea quirked a brow at him.

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blondie_bear
2009-11-28 09:03 am UTC (link)

"You do have to," Spike replied as casually as possible, "you ruined my first one. It was rude. And since we're all living here together in paradise, I suggest you get on making me a new one before a vampire decides to get angry enough to ruin it for you." If there was one thing that Spike could say for himself, it was that he was very possessive of what was his. That drink had been his. He wanted a new one immediately.

"You were waiting for someone because you're lonely," Spike scoffed, "do I have to bloody well spell it out for you or shall I send you a more detailed letter on the subject through the mail? I can see it in your eyes. You're lonely. And if you don't do something about it sooner or later, you're going to turn out to be a cold, bitter, poor excuse of a human being -" He cut himself off and shook his head. "Sorry, I was talking as though there was actually hope for you. It looks like I'm already too late."

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avengingwarrior
2009-11-28 09:23 am UTC (link)

Andrea slid the bottle of vodka towards him. "Have at it." She then paused, before reaching over and grabbing a cup on the stack of plastic cups. She was a sentimental drunk. Or some sort. She wouldn't go as far as pouring it for him but she had started feeling bad. However, he had to go and ruin that by keeping on talking.

The plastic cup didn't stand a chance in her hands. That thing was instantly crushed and twisted. If she had been holding the vodka bottle, she would have hurt herself. As it were, her other hand fisted and slammed onto the table. And through the table. Forming a shape about, but oddly outlined, the size of her fist and some of her wrist. Her hand went straight through and acquired some splinter along the way. Her slamming the table had caused some of the contents of her own drink to jump off and some it splashing her. But she paid it no mind.

Tilting her chin up, she stared him down, even as she felt a slight prickle in her eyes. ... she was an emotional drunk too. And what part of his words that had sunk through, both pissed her off and caused her chest to ache. Not just a phantom pain, in the figurative sense. But to physically ache. How dare he!? He didn't know her. He didn't know anything. And he had no right -- She caught her self right there, with a quick, shaky breath through her nose. One. Then another shorter one. Two.

Andrea stopped her train of thought as she felt ... like crying. Dios, she was so stupid. "Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!!" Real mature, yes. But while she wasn't quite drunk she was far from sober. "Pedazo de mierda estúpida! Usted no tiene la menor idea de lo que he pasado por --" When she was very angry, she automatically resorted to Spanish. "Don't you dare think to judge me. Not now. Not ever. I'll --" She cut herself off again, before abruptly standing up and storming to the sink. Slamming the faucet open, and she just let the hot water run slightly. Careful, as she could in her current state not to wet the splints.

And oh, so carefully, she managed to yank one out of her skin. One down and a couple more to go. "Take your fucking drink and leave me the hell alone. Bastardo."

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blondie_bear
2009-11-29 11:44 pm UTC (link)

Christ, the woman had some serious issues. Spike watched her pitch her raging fit, destroy the table, scream all over the kitchen - all while sipping at his drink and patiently waiting for her to finish. She could have started throwing things around the room, screaming and hollering at the top of her lungs and Spike probably wouldn't have done more than what he was doing now. Lounging in his chair, waiting for her to realize how stupid she was being. In a way, she reminded him of a very angry child. A child with very nice breasts. He set his drink aside, finally choosing to acknowledge her with more of the 'are you done yet?' look he had been giving her before.

"The truth hurts, doesn't it?" He stretched his arms out and yawned. "You can tell me to shut it all you like, but it's the truth, isn't it? You're alone. You're bitter." He paused, brows rising upward just slightly. "Do you have any cats? You might want to think about investing in a few." Which might not have been a good idea, because Spike liked to play poker. Too bad no one here accepted kittens as currency. Bastards. "It's not gonna change. Not when you're running around kitchens, smashing tables in. You want my advice?" Of course she didn't. She'd get it anyway. "Grow up. Your life sucks. But you could be worse off - hell, you could be me. Dead, living off blood, can't go out in the sun for fear of bursting into flame." He rose from his chair, taking his drink with him. "You're young. You're a beautiful girl. Get over yourself."

He raised his drink in a miniature salute and started for the door. If she wanted to continue the conversation, she could. Otherwise he was going to leave before she decided to aim for his face next.

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avengingwarrior
2009-11-30 03:03 am UTC (link)

Andrea didn't pay him any mind as he spoke. Or at least she pretended not to. Her not so straight vision was caught up on the splinters that she was getting very easily frustrated with. After the first three misses. She just shut the faucet and braced her hand on either side of the sink. His words sinking in more than she wanted them to.

Dios, seriously? Seriously? She couldn't have one night of drunk misery without being lectured by a vampire? Honestly? It wasn't as if she did this every night. Then, maybe (like hell) he could get off calling her bitter. She was what she was and he had no idea how over herself she was trying to be. It wasn't about her. She was making peace with herself, with her powers, with how she got them. With being the Angel of Vengeance. She was trying. However, she could only go so far ... there was only so far she could go until she let go. And Andrea wasn't letting her. She wasn't letting go of her, because the woman was all she had had for her entire life. She wasn't facing all the emotions she had connected to her, emotions that weren't just pain and missing her. That were darker things. She wasn't facing them because facing them would mean letting go. Facing them would mean that she was --

Andrea wasn't going to think about what she felt towards her mother somedays, aside from missing her with so much sorrow.

So instead, Andrea bundled up that emotion. And she tackled him. What? You were expecting something more articulate than that? She was pissed off and she was drunk. It didn't get more articulate than that.

Andrea tackled Spike from the side, since he hadn't fully turned toward the door. Causing his arms to flail in surprise and his drink to lunge forward, splashing the the wall across from them.

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blondie_bear
2009-12-01 12:16 am UTC (link)

Spike didn't see it coming. If he had, he would have easily been able to evade the woman lumbering toward him angrily. Shoulders smacking the doorframe, Spike watched his drink slop forward and decorate the walls, the only thought in their unfortunate plunge to the ground being: not another bloody drink! His head bounced against the floor, causing a slight ache to pound it's way through his skull, but aside from that Spike didn't take on much damage from the fall. He instead grabbed Andrea by the wrists, twisted her back, and attempted to pin her to the ground as to keep her from doing the same thing all over again.

"You can beat up the table, missy," Spike growled, "but when you start tackling vampires around you know you've got a deathwish." Not that Spike was going to kill her. Or do much. But he wanted to make his point very clear. "Now it's clear that you're out of your fucking head right now, so I'm gonna let this one go. But the next time you decide to get pissed? Stick to attacking the table if you know what's good for you."

She needed therapy. That was a definite thought.

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avengingwarrior
2009-12-04 01:53 am UTC (link)

Andrea arched a lazy brow at his direction, her tone bored. There was a vague though of, how it was a good thing that he'd managed to piss her off. It would have been unfortunate to attempt a bored tone of voice while your words were absolutely slurred drunk. "I thought it was already insinuated that I was out of my mind. Sometime around me needing friends but just before you out and out calling me bitter."

Andrea bucked once, but he was rather strong himself, and everything (motor-skills, reflex, muscles, timing) were slowing down because she and sober just weren't friends at the moment. "I'm pretty sure if I can handle Clark Kent, I can handle a vampire." Her tone was flippant. "Now get off of me before I do something you probably won't end up liking. But I'm sure that I'll be fine with." The smile she gave him was more than a bit smirky, mocking, but with a lazy quality. Oh, yeah, she was moving out of sulking and quick. And for get that 'you don't know me' mood swing that drunks seemed to have (though in case he really didn't know her); that was dead gone. Now it was mockity-mock-mock, and likely more than a little fearless than she should be.

Angry emotions pushed just beneath the surface, the buzz and warmth of the alcohol was working well to impair that judgment. And everyone knows that stubborn and drunk just does not work well.

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