Dakota winces at the pain but let's him clean up the wound. Hank puts a small thing of ice in a ziplock bag, wrapping the wet cloth around it. He applies it to her cheek, seeing how it's already bruised. She'll feel it in the morning.
...
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The old telephone in the wall rings, Dakota walks over and picks up. She wears her bra and Hank's sweatpants that hang low on her. She had to tie them extra tight so they wouldn't fall down. "Hello?" She says tiredly. Her body is sore from the late morning to early afternoon sex with Hank. They did it off and on for a couple hours. Dakota's first time ever, and it was with her dead brother's best friend. Drew would be so angry at the both of them, but all Dakota can say is that he's not coming back and Hank's in charge now. "Dakota?" Devin says form the other line. "Oh, hey, Dev." Dakota sits on the counter, looking into the living room/Hank's bedroom. "What's up?" Hank fell back asleep after he made lunch for them, he was tired from the two hours of off and on sex he had with Dakota. He fell asleep in his bed, tossing and turning every now and then. "I have an idea on our project." Devin says, "How about we make a mantle? My mom's been wanting one for our house." Dakota shrugs, "Okay, that's cool." "You're not going to fight me on this?" Devin says surprised. "No, I'm pretty chill today." She says, "Hank's still sleeping. Last night was a bust." "Drunk assholes?" Dakota can feel his smile on the other end. "You have no idea."
Dakota paints her toenails dark red again, bored out of her mind. Hank snores in the other room, making her roll her eyes. That's one thing that annoys her. Hank's snoring. She gets up and walks over to his bed, sitting down next to him. She looks at his many tattoos, ones he got when he was younger. Hank told Dakota about some of them and why and when he got them. Dakota wonders if he would take her to get one. She crawls over him and slips under the covers, pulling the cigarette smoke smelling covers over her shoulders. She cuddles next to him and his warmth. The ceiling fan is slow, not very helpful. Dakota remind herself to get Hank to buy a big fan for them when 4th of July weather comes. If she stays that long. Dakota worries that in the next 3 months, once she turns 18, Hank will kick her out. She plans on using him for a while, playing house, until she can figure out what to do with her life. She hates to use him, he took her in when she was going to be thrown back into foster care and all she's ever done is cause trouble for him. She feels the urge to go back to her old habits everyday. After Walter Baxter, her old foster parent, had sexually abused her constantly when she was in his care, she had tried to commit suicide. Drew got her help and was involved with the program that was helping her recover. She feels like she was a burden to Drew and now, to Hank. She's ruining his life. But he's all she has left. Hank's eyes flutter open, stretching as he yawns. Dakota's bedroom door is open, he can see she's no where to be seen. He starts to sit up when an arm wraps around him. He smiles in relief, turning so he's on his back. Dakota lays her head on his chest, he kisses the top of her head. "Hank?" Dakota says "Dakota?" He mimics her, grumbling. She playfully smacks his chest, propping herself up. "How many women have you had?" She says childishly, smiling. Hank frowns, clearing his throat. He remains silent for a moment, trying to keep his mouth shut. Or at least sensitive. "Well, Dakota, that's really none of your business." Hank sniffs, resting the back of his head on his arm. "Why not?" She says confused. "Because it's not." He says seriously, annoyance in his voice. Dakota looks at him blankly, blinking. She stands up and stomps to her bedroom. Hank tries to grab her by her arm but she manages to dodge him. As he stands up, she quickly shuts the door. Locking it. "Really?" He says agitated, "Dakota, open this door. Now!" No answer. "Dakota Elaine Ryan, get your ass out here now!" Hank shouts, slamming his fist against the door. Still no answer. Hank suddenly realizes what's happening. He rushes out of the house, hurrying to Dakota's window. Her backpack is in the ground and the young girl is sliding out of the window. When she see him, she grabs the bag and goes to run but Hank grabs a hold of her. He only throws her over his shoulder, walking back around the house. She beats him on the back, kicking and jerking all around. Hank slaps her hard on the butt, making her squeal. Just as he's about to walk inside the house, Mona walks by. She stops, making Hank stop. That's when he realizes he is wearing a dirty white t-shirt and his boxers, with Dakota's pink flip flops. Dakota with his sweatpants, crop top, combat boots. She gives them a look. "Hey, Hank. Dakota." "Mona" Both Hank and Dakota says in unison, casual. "Today's supposed to be the last warm day of the year." She says awkwardly, "The sky is just so beautiful and clear." "You should see it from here, Mona." Dakota says sarcastically, smiling. Hank gently tosses Dakota's body up, making the young girl groan in annoyance. He turns back to Mona. "It's a great day to catch runaways, Mona." Hank explains, making Mona nod her head. "It's always a blessed day for that, Hank." She smiles walking away, stalking them as she goes. Hank opens the door, tossing Dakota up so she'd hit her head. She lets out a groan, holding her head. She gives him a glare. "Oops," Hank chuckles evilly. He grabs Dakota by the waist and throws her onto his bed. She goes to run to her bedroom when he grabs her and throws her back on the bed. He stands above her, putting his hands on his hips. "Will you fight like this at school, or just with me?" Hank says with a snort. "Do you fuck just sluts, or do you fuck whores too?" She fires back. "Well I fucked you, didn't I?" He smirks at her, making her give him the evil eye. "You listen to me right now because I've got a new rule." "Don't share used condoms? I know that, Hank." She says sarcastically. "No walking away like that after we fight. No more running away." He says annoyed, sighing. "And no more teasing." "Then maybe you should think about other things than getting laid!" She shouts at him. "Don't you-" Hank shakes his head, growling at how she knows just how to push his buttons. "Damn it, Dakota! All I said was that it wasn't any of your business!" "Why isn't it? We live under the same roof. Your dick has fucked me just like the rest of the girls you bring here." She says, "What's so personal about how many girls you've been with? Aren't guys proud of how many girls they've been with or something?" "Yeah, but they're not you." He sighs "Just tell me." She says stubbornly, "How many girls have you slept with? Huh? 15?20? 50? How many? "Baby, I don't know how many bitc—women, I've had. I don't." He says softer, his voice lower. Dakota stops, taken back by the nickname he gave her. She sits there staring up at him. He sits down next to her. She looks down in her lap, avoiding his eyes. "But no matter how many I've had, they don't matter anymore." He lifts her chin so she's looking at him. "I got you and that's all I need for now." Dakota rolls her eyes, leaning away from Hank. "For now," She mimics him. "I'm not Johnny." He says suddenly, making her freeze. "And I'm not Frank or Roger, neither. I'm not going to hurt you. Why do you keep on making trouble for yourself?" Dakota think to herself. "Everyone leaves. Everyone. Might as well leave before you get left." "Well, I'm not going anywhere." Hank smiles at her, going to the kitchen. "I'm here to annoy for as long as you need." "Am I really annoying?" Dakota lays back on the bed, watching him drink the last of a beer. "Or are you just pulling my leg?" "No, I'm just messing with you baby." He walks back over and climbs into bed, "Come here." Hank leans on the wall, his only headboard. Dakota wraps an arm around his torso, laying her head on his propped up chest. His arm pulls her close to him, his thumb caressing the bare skin on her arm. Hank grabs the remote from the nightstand next to the recliner, flipping on the tv. She traces the cursive writing below his chest, ideas popping into her head one by one. "Can I get a tattoo?" She says suddenly. He smirks. "No way, you have too beautiful skin." "Can I cut my hair?" She sits up, eyes sparkling with excitement. "No Dakota." He suggest, "But I do have to get better locking mechanisms for your window. Maybe a guard dog that hates you." "I thought you hated animals." "Not when they're scaring the shit out of disobedient children."
