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harringtonstudios · 4 years

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bail. (part I)

plot: your weekend was supposed to be chill, now you’re running around early morning trying to figure out what exactly went wrong. part 2!

A/N: super long and different! i hope you like this anon! please lmk ur thoughts

taglist: @iamdorka @no-shxt-sherl @bakerkells @findingmyth @rosegoldrichie @mayaslifeinabox @itjustkindahappenedreally @hnbtx

Getting a phone call at 3:42am when you were knocked out on a hotel bed in Portland was not how you expected your weekend to go. The worst part was when you groggily reached for your cell phone, only to see a random number pop up on your screen. Shrugging it off, you pulled your head under the thick blanket, closing your eyes.

Two minutes later, the phone went off again and you snapped open your eyes. Grabbing your phone this time, you picked up the call, bringing it to you ear before murmuring, “Who the fuck-”

“Hey Y/N. It’s Colson,” the man said on the other side and you glared at the ceiling, immediately placing his voice. Of course, he would be calling you at almost four in the morning from some random number.

“Why are you calling me?” you muttered, pulling your covers back over you.

“So there’s a little situation see,” he started and you scowled, knowing that this was going to require you actually getting up.

“Where’s Rook,” you questioned, trying to figure out if your little brother was caught up in this mess. If he wasn’t, you would let someone else handle it. You weren’t Colson’s babysitter, both of you were too fiery to be put in a room together anyways. Anytime you were together, there were always bitten-back insults, glares thrown across rooms, and dumb competitions to prove you were better than each other.

“He’s here, he called, but you didn’t pick up. I got the phone after and you’re the only person we know here with us,” he rambled and you huffed, getting up off the bed.

“Where are you?” you asked, walking over to the bathroom, trying to see if you needed to pee before you left.

“County jail,” Colson muttered on the other end and your eyes widened. Before you could say anything, he blurted out, “Look I know, I know. Can you just bring us bail? I’ll pay you back, but we can’t stay the night here.”

Pulling on pants, you grabbed your coat and wallet as the line suddenly started to beep. “I’m coming,” you got out before the call cut off.

The empty, cold streets of Portland were not inviting. There was nobody around, the kid sitting on the main desk in the lobby, typing away on his phone. You had walked out of the hotel into total darkness, so you went back in, sitting on the couches as you called a Lyft.

Within five minutes, the car had pulled up. Getting in the backseat, you threw a smile to the driver, praying that he wouldn’t ask why you needed to go to jail. Your prayers didn’t work, a minute into the ride, the driver glanced in the mirror before saying, “So, county jail huh? What’s that story?”

You stared at the front seat. “My brother and his stupid friends got themselves locked up for the night,” you responded, keeping it simple. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you stole a glimpse at the GPS setup on his dashboard. Just five more minutes.

“You going to bail them out?” he pushed, smiling when you glared at him in the mirror. “Something like that,” you murmured and he got the message, turning on the radio as you stared out the window.

The county jail came into view and you braced yourself for the mess you were going to walk into. “Thanks dude,” you blurted, before getting out of his car.

“Hey, good luck,” he threw your way, rolling his window to wave. You smiled awkwardly before walking into the building. The lady at the front desk was filing her nails as the man behind her sat with his head down. There was a bench, two guys sitting there, slumped on top of each other.

Grimacing, you walked up to the desk.

“Hi, I’m here to bail out a couple of people,” you started, and the lady gave you a look, eyebrows raised as she put her nail file down.

“Names?” she muttered, reaching down to sort through what looked like files.

“JP Cappelletty, Colson Baker,” you spoke, faltering at the end. “Did anyone else come in with them?” you asked, biting your lip, hoping for a no.

“Yeah, do you know his name?” she asked, slapping three files onto her desk.

“Um Slim,” you bit out.

“Government name?” she questioned, flipping open a chart.

“I don’t know that,” you responded, hand nervously tapping on the desk.

She looked up at you, glaring for a second, before shouting, “MIKE. BRING THE THREE GUYS UP FRONT.”

You flashed her a smile, reaching into your purse for your wallet.

“I’ll need you to sign a couple of papers. It’ll be $302 per person. You want a receipt?” she stated, reaching for her machine.

“A receipt would be great,” you responded, trying not to freak out about dropping over $900 on bail.

“You’ll have to call up your credit card company, let them know you’re paying a large amount,” she finished, reaching for the card in your hand.

“Yeah, okay. First thing in the morning,” you nodded, eyes clocking on the movement behind her.

Colson was shuffling in front, head hanging. You could see Slim at the back, nose looking slightly busted. Rook was in the middle of them and although, you couldn’t really see him, you knew he was probably scuffed up. They all were in handcuffs, clanking as they moved to the front, near the gated door.

“Lady! I said sign here,” the woman said, snapping at you. You looked down at the six different sheets.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, taking a pen from her. Signing off on all the documents, you pushed them back her way.

“Mike, they’re good to go,” the woman motioned, and you heard a buzz. Walking to the gated door, you stood back as it swung open.

Colson got uncuffed first, rubbing at his wrists. Your eyes widened at his knuckles, swollen and purple. Stepping out, he came to stand behind you, murmuring a soft, “Thanks.”

Rook was next, and you sighed, seeing his black eye. He looked up at you, eyes watering and you quickly pulled him in for a hug.

“You okay?” you asked, patting his back.

“Yeah, this is so fucked,” he muttered and you let out a little laugh as he sniffed.

“You’re lucky I won’t tell dad about this,” you responded, pushing him slightly as Slim stepped out.

“Y/N! You’re the best,” he boomed, as he leaned down for a hug. You gave him a quick one, head turning as you smelled the alcohol wafting off of him.

“Thanks Mike,” you said, arms shoving the three of them towards the exit. They all stumbled outside and you waited until the door of the office closed before turning to face them.

“What the FUCK. You’re all drunk, busted up, falling on top of each other, in fucking JAIL!” you shouted, arms waving around as they stood there.

“What’d you shitheads do?” you barked at them, eyes focusing on Colson, who was avoiding your gaze.

“Y/N, chillll,” Slim mumbled, swaying slightly.

“Oh fuck no,” you scoffed.

“I’ll tell you everything. Can we just get home?” Colson quietly muttered. He spared you a glance, eyes slightly red.

You called another Lyft, sitting down on the front steps of the station. Rook sat next to you, head falling on your shoulder.

“Don’t blame him Y/N,” he said, hand hitting your knee.

“J,” you started, “You wouldn’t be in this mess if it wasn’t for him.”

“That’s not true. We both know that,” Rook responded and you looked up at the sky, hoping you had enough patience to deal with this.

Sitting in the passenger seat, you stared at the driver’s mirror, watching the boys in the back. Slim had slumped against the leather, eyes closed. Rook was half on top of him, mouth open as he drooled. Colson was the only one awake, biting his lip staring out the window.

A part of you wanted to yell at him, scold him for getting your little brother tangled up with this lifestyle, being a bad influence. But another part of you wanted to give him a hug, stroke his hair off his forehead. And then there was a teeny, tiny part of you that wanted to kiss his stupid, chapped lips, play with his broken fingers, hold ice against his purpled knuckles.

That part of you was new. You had always thought you hated Colson, despised him for messing up Rook’s life, and that’s why you two were always biting at each other. But then this weekend, he had hurled his usual insults and you’d seen something sparkle in his eye. And then you’d both gotten fucked up off of ecstasy and he whispered your name, and all of a sudden all you could think about was him on top of you, panting out your name over and over again. You’d run off to bed then, claiming that you were tired, but really you were overthinking every single interaction you’d had with Colson since knowing him.

Pulling up to the hotel, you thanked the driver. Opening the back door, you helped the three idiots, trying to keep their limbs in check as they sleepily slumped out. Colson was the last one, slamming the door closed before throwing you a weak smile. Holding up Slim, he asked, “I’ll make sure he gets back to his room. You trust me enough for that?”

You nodded, wrapping Rook’s arm around your neck so you could lift him slightly. “Can we talk before you go to bed?” you pushed, knowing that if you put this off until tomorrow, the conversation wouldn’t happen. He wasn’t sober, but this was the closest you would get to hearing the entire story of tonight without all three of the guys changing around details.

“Yeah, come over after Rookie’s in bed,” he murmured over his shoulder. You smiled at the use of Rook’s little nickname, and then caught yourself quickly, throwing a neutral face back on. Getting into the elevator, you suddenly felt exhausted, the night taking a toll on you.

Stomach grumbling as soon as you pushed Rook into bed, you looked around the floor for any snack machines. Remembering the cereal box you had stolen from breakfast back in your room, you went upstairs. Reaching your door, you stood in front, rooting around in your purse for the key card. Coming up empty, you frowned, trying again to feel the cool piece of plastic. Nothing.

Then, it hit you. You had left the key on the table next to your hotel bed, taking it out of your purse since this was supposed to be your last night here. “Fuck,” you muttered, rushing to the elevator door. Walking out into the lobby, you went to the front desk, only to see it empty. There was nobody around to talk to and you let out another curse as your phone buzzed.

Colson Baker: you can come over. room 536.

Deciding to go up first, you got back on the elevator, praying for an easy talk. Knocking on the door, you edged it open before walking in. Colson sat on his bed, leaning against the backboard. His long legs were stretched out in front of him and he’d kicked off his shoes, socked feet crossed at the end. He was holding a jar of peanut butter in one hand and a spoon in the other, and you pushed his feet aside as you plopped on the edge of his bed.

“Pass the peanut butter?” you asked, gesturing to the jar in his hand. He snorted before leaning off the backboard to give it over. Taking the jar, you hesitated before reaching over to take his spoon too. Dipping it in, you scooped up a nice spoonful before eating it.

“Mmhm, I’m starving,” you murmured between thick peanut butter.

“Me too, give it back,” he said, arm reaching out as you moved back out of reach.

“Nope. Not until you explain this shitty situation,” you said, smiling sweetly as you took another spoonful.

He sighed before leaning back fully, hand rubbing over his face. He had a little bit of stubble, highlighted by the dim yellow of the lamp. His knuckles looked worse here, deep purple and you reached out before you could help yourself. Bringing his hand up to your eyes, you ran a finger over the bruises.

“Colson,” you sighed out and he shifted a little, sitting upright so that he was closer to you.

“I know,” he started, and you looked up at him.

“What happened,” you asked, letting his hand drop in between you both.

“We were at a bar. I was fucked up already. Slim and Rook had smoked a little, but then they drank and got crossed. There was a group of girls and we danced around a little, but they didn’t want to do anything so we backed off. Then, these guys started getting all up on them and they weren’t listening, so I threw a punch. Things get kinda hazy after that,” he ended, eyes staring straight at you.

You didn’t say anything, processing the information. Of fucking course they had started a bar fight. Biting your cheek, you asked, “And then you got arrested?”

“I guess. Next thing I know, I’m in fucking handcuffs and we’re getting pulled out of the bar. Rookie freaked out, tried to call you once we got there. And then they let me go, so I tried again and you picked up,” he mumbled, pressing down on his own knuckles.

“Okay,” you breathed out, “I’m not going to yell at you.”

He snorted at that, leaning back, putting both his arms above his head.

“But the next time I get a fucking call from jail, I’m leaving you all to rot there,” you finished, putting the peanut butter jar on the bed, towards him.

“Noted,” he nodded, closing his eyes.

Taking in his appearance, you grimaced at the state of his hands. Picking up his key card from the nightstand, you got up. You left the room with an ice bucket before he could even realize, walking to the machine on the floor. Gathering a few ice cubes, you unlocked his door, walking back in.

“Where’d you go,” he mustered out, sounding a little hoarse.

“Ice,” you responded, before taking a few tissues from the desk. Making a makeshift ice pack, you sat back on the bed.

Carefully reaching for his arms, you pulled one down. He extended his fingers, looking down at them himself.

“Yeah, I guess I fucked myself over bad,” he said, moving his fingers slowly.

“You’re an asshole who can’t stop himself,” you responded, gingerly laying the ice across his knuckles. He winced a little and you lifted it up.

“Keep it there, feels good,” he mumbled, using his other hand to guide yours back to his bruises.

Looking up, you made eye contact and the world softened its edges for a second.

Kicking into a panic, you quickly moved back, pulling your hand out. He gripped on the tissue ice pack, confused. You let out a breath before getting up, walking over to the desk where the hotel phone sat. Finding the reception number, you picked up the phone, dialing in the numbers. Crossing your fingers, you were on the line for a second before the message started up,” We’re sorry. No one is available at this time.”

“Fuck,” you muttered, slamming down the phone.

“What,” Colson asked, and you looked over at the bed. His eyes were closed, the ice pack sitting on the nightstand, creating a little puddle.

“I locked myself out of my room, no one’s downstairs,” you explained, reaching for your cell phone. His eyes opened at that, and you saw him looking as you called Rook.

“Of course he isn’t picking up,” you muttered to yourself. It would be so easy to just fall asleep in your brother’s bed, living like you were kids again.

“Rook’s dead to the world,” Colson mumbled out as he slowly got up. You saw him moving and you paused, mid-pace.

“Just stay here. I’ll sleep on the floor or something,” he said, reaching up to stretch. His shirt rode up a little and you saw the triple X tattoo peeking out his waistband, tempting you.

“You can’t sleep on the floor, you just got beat up dude. Take the bed, I’ll sleep in the bathtub or something. Throw me a pillow,” you stated, shrugging off your jacket.

He gave you a look before shaking his head. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. Just stay on the bed,” he said, pulling one of the sheets off.

“No. I wanna sleep in the bathtub,” you threw back, reaching for the sheet from him.

“You’re gonna fight me on this too?” he asked, letting go of the sheet as you stumbled a little.

“It’s not that serious Colson. Go the fuck to sleep,” you spat out, turning around to the bathroom.

Walking in, you paused a little as your socked feet hit the cold tiles. The bathtub wasn’t really big, covered in a layer of grime. Trying to figure out a way to clean it up, you searched around, eyes only finding the little complimentary bottles of shampoo.

Stepping back out of the bathroom, you saw Colson already in the bed. The covers were pulled up to his head, blonde tuft sticking out. You knew he wasn’t asleep, hearing the sounds of his phone under the blanket.

There were two options here: you could either lay on the dirty floor, covered in stickiness from everyone’s bar-laced Converses or you could get in bed with him. The right choice was evident, and you reminded yourself exactly why you couldn’t stand him before moving over to the other side of the bed.

Placing the pillow you had taken back down on the bed, you laid the sheet down. You couldn’t really see Colson, he had taken over one side of the bed and you knew that he probably wasn’t sure that you were there. Nudging his shoulder, you lifted the covers from his head.

He looked up at you once, then saw the pillow right next to him. Shifting so that he was fully facing you, he grinned before saying, “Sleeping with me tonight?”

“God, could you be any more fucking annoying,” you muttered, sitting on the side of the bed.

“I’m just stating the facts,” he said, hands rubbing over his bare chest. You glared at him, before getting up and grabbing his white shirt from the desk.

Throwing it to him, you barked, “Put it back on.”

He gave you an incredulous look, before shrugging it on.

“Happy now? Thin cotton makes a great barrier,” he scoffed.

You looked at him once before grinning, muttering, “Just peachy.”

Getting into bed, you brought your knees close up to your chest. This was a comfortable position for you, and you wrapped an arm around yourself before mumbling out, “Stay on your side or I’ll cut your balls off.”

Not even waiting for a response, you let your eyes close. You had tired yourself out with this adventure, and within seconds you were sleeping.

Waking up an hour later, you blinked your eyes at the harsh light coming through the opened curtains. You had a pounding headache, letting out a little groan as you shifted. Moving just a little, you felt something slump over your waist. Lifting the covers, you saw Colson’s hand, leaning against your hip, heat radiating off of it. Your heart stuttered a little, before you slightly moved it off of yourself.

A minute later, you decided to get up for the day. You wanted to check with the receptionist to see if you could get back into your own hotel room. Pushing yourself up, you turned just a little to look at Colson’s sleeping form.

His head was smashed into the pillow, hair flopping over his forehead. One of his hands was outstretched, reaching towards you while the other was wrapped around his own torso. He looked peaceful, eyes closed, mouth slightly open. Taking in the sight of a quiet, angelic Colson Baker, you smiled before getting off the bed.

Walking over to the phone, you called the number again, twirling the cord as you looked through the window at the vacant parking lot.

“Portland’s Finest. How can we help you Mr.Baker?” a voice spoke, tinny through the phone.

“Oh hi, I um- I’m Y/N. I locked myself out of my room,” you mumbled into the line.

“Oh, sorry about that Ms. Y/N. Why don’t you come down here and we can figure this out,” the receptionist spoke and you responded quickly, hanging up the line.

Grabbing your purse, you pulled on your shoes. Picking up your coat, you passed Colson sleeping as you stood at the door. Waiting for a second, you shuffled back to the bed, leaning down. Kissing his forehead quickly, you sighed before walking out the door. It was going to be a long day.

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