Phillip Wolfe | Phobos (inclinedfear) wrote in paxletalelogs, @ 2011-08-05 19:38:00 |
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Entry tags: | eris, phobos |
Pour My Beer Down The Sink
Who: Rylee and Charlie
What: Rylee decides to pay Charlie a visit while piss drunk
Where: Apartment 103 / 706
When: After this thread, probably around 2 or 3 A.M.
Warnings: Cursing and general post-drunk badness
Notes: Placeholder
He was quite possibly the most intoxicated he had ever been in his life. No... no that was a certainty. Rylee had never before drank so much or felt so completely gone as he did as he made his way towards Charlie’s door. And, god, was that hard to do. The entire hallway was shifting up and down and something in the back of Rylee’s mind was telling him, be nervous, you could get hurt. A phantom pain even appeared on his leg where had had that weird burn from right after he moved in, the one he got in this very hallway, but Rylee shook it off and made sure to place each foot firmly on the ground as he progressed towards Charlie’s door.
It was late. Really late. Well, that’s what Rylee thought anyway. He and Samuel had to have been at strip club for a couple of hours and then there was the drive back. Well, whatever, Charlie always seemed to be up late at night anyway. And even if she was asleep he didn’t care. He didn’t give a shit. Because he had a purpose and he needed to accomplish his mission.
“There,” He mumbled drunkenly. Pausing and stumbling from foot to foot until he gained his balance, he lifted a finger and pointed towards an apartment door. “There you are, Lee.” He took a few steps forward and pulled at his shirt. He was so damn hot wearing this thing. He had been hot in the club and in the car and now it was only getting worse. With a hiccup he paused and attempted to pull his shirt off, getting lost in it for a moment that brought him falling against the hallway wall. Straightening up he managed to pull his shirt off aside from it dangling from one arm and exposed his naked chest and back. Well, at least he felt a little cooler.
Taking a few more steps he began to beat on an apartment door only to realize it was the wrong one. With a grumble he looked around, spotting Charlie’s number across the hall, and made his way for it. “Charlie!! Charlie! Open... open the door. Lee, its-ah me,” Rylee whimpered as he gave a final beat down of the door with his fists. “Char-... Charlie, you gotta, you gotta open up and let me in. I have to talk to you, you little thing you.” His head tipped forward and met the door, it felt cool to his skin and he turned his head to press his cheek against the cool surface while he clung to the door frame, hoping Charlie would indeed appear shortly.
She had been sleeping - having been assigned an early shift at 5 A.M., Charlie was attempting to get some shut eye since she’d spent the last few nights out late, carousing drunkenly. More and more she was getting shafted with these crappy assignments, even with her management position, and she knew that they were trying to get her to quit rather than having to fire her. Of course, part of that could just be suspicion in her mind, but no one ever called Charlie optimistic. The banging on her door didn’t go unnoticed, though, mainly because Jack was immediately alert and nosing her in the face to get her attention. His cold, wet nose was more than amply sufficient for waking her, and then Rylee’s drunken yelling filled in the rest. Sort of.
“What the fuck...” Charlie lingered in her bed for a moment, letting her mind resurface from the dregs of sleep it still lingered in. Part of her was reminded of when she’d been a little girl, shortly after she’d gotten a lock installed on her bedroom door, how her father had attempted to get in and had banged away at the door for a solid hour, as though he still retained the authority to command her to open the door. Eventually he’d wandered off, and the episodes had only continued for another week until he’d finally learned that the door was no longer an option for him. But Charlie knew her father was dead, and that the man at the door was of a completely different character. Finally she threw back the covers and put her bare feet on the cold, faux wood floor, padding softly to the front door of her apartment, Jack dancing around her feet in excitement. A quick peek through the hole in the door ensured that it was indeed Rylee, drunk off his ass.
She opened the door a crack, the light of the hallway illuminating the utterly pissed off expression she wore, and her voice was thick with sleep. “What the fuck are you doing, Rylee?”
“Charlie!” Rylee nearly squealed as he caught himself from falling into the apartment. He immediately reached for her, pushing the door open and inviting himself into the apartment as he brushed a hand over her cheek. “It’s you! Were you sleepin’? Oh! The puppy!”
He immediately pushed past Charlie and pet Jack who was bouncing about and trying to sniff Rylee’s breath, no doubt smelling the heavy scent of liquor that was rising off of Rylee. He remembered his shirt, completely pulled off of his body aside from it being caught on his wrist, and tugged at it before dropping the shirt on the floor. Spinning around he almost fell and reached for Charlie again before pulling back. “No, no, I can’t touch you. That would be... that would be gropin’. Samuel said I can’t be pawin’ you unless... unless you wanna paw me. Ha...” He pushed the hair on his head back and smiled then grinned. Looking around the apartment it appeared he only just realized where he was and his blue, red rimmed eyes settled on Charlie. “Hi, Lee! Why are you awake?”
Her arms crossed over her chest, her entire body radiating annoyance. Mussed hair and rumpled pajamas completed the picture of someone who was not ready nor willing to deal with a drunk friend suddenly dropping by randomly in the night.
“I’m awake ‘cause yah woke me. I’m awake ‘cause yer so drunk, yah were makin’ a huge racket - pawin’ me? What the fuck... Did Sam get yah drunk? How do yah even know Sam?” The anger faded a bit, replaced with confusion, but rather than disappearing it merely switched burners in her mind, ready to reappear at a moment’s notice. Jack, on the other hand, was perfectly happy to welcome the newcomer into his space, dancing around Rylee’s feet and begging for more attention.
Rylee dropped his hands to pet the bouncing dog, smiling at Jack as he muttered about all the treats he was going to give him. “I... I know Samuel ‘cause he is my neighbor. He lives across the hall from me and has been real nice. Didya know that he’s a fucking Ranger? Two Marines and a fucking Ranger. Oohrah!!! But he thought, despite being a Ranger, it’d be a good idea to take me to the strip club! And it was a good idea!” Rylee’s voice was thick with a mixture of his accent and the alcohol slurring his speech. “You look so sleepy, Lee. And pissed, you always look so pretty when yer pissed.”
Rylee pulled away from Jack and took a step closer to Charlie, a small frown forming on his lips as he reached out and brushed at Charlie’s messy hair in a poor attempt to make it neat for her. She batted at his hands in response, moving backward in the name of personal space. Rylee was very, very shirtless, after all.
In a loud voice, which Rylee thought was a whisper, he continued to explain. “So I don’t think Samuel got me drunk. I think it was the shots and the whiskey and whatever else the waitress with the big tits gave me that is what made me drunk. But I’m not drunk. No, no, but I could use a drink. Where do you got some, Lee?”
“No, no more, yer turnin’ into a fuckin’ alkie,” she responded, heatedly, the anger rearing its head once more. And it was growing, vastly at an intense rate. “He took you to a strip club?! What the fuck gave him the notion that it was a good idea to take you to a fuckin’ strip club?! And you agreed to go?! Why the fuck would you go to a strip club?!” Her voice was rising to match his in volume, though on her end it was entirely intentional.
“Shhh, shhh,” Rylee replied with a hand going up, stopping just before Charlie’s mouth in an attempt to shut her up without ‘pawin’ her’. “Charlie, listen to me. It was for my own good. See he was helpin’ me. We got to talkin’ and he was bein’ very informative and he thought that it would be a good idea for me to come and see you tonight. He has... he has my best interests at heart. Or somethin’. And I’m not a fucking alkie. I am Rylee! Your Ryry, okay? Just ‘cause I’m gettin’ drunk once in awhile doesn’t mean ya gotta call me an alkie.”
Rylee frowned and almost appeared annoyed. To Rylee, especially now in his drunk haze, being called an alkie made him think of Charlie’s father. And if there was one person in the world he did not want to be like, it was that asshole. But the alcohol was also allowing Rylee’s mind to move from topic to topic with ease. “Did ya know that strippers are really flexible? I mean, can you do that stuff, Lee? That would be amazin’.” His eyes grew large again and a devilish smirk appeared. He would sell his soul to see Charlie do those splits and bends like the strippers did. But only for himself in a private show. No one else could be around because whether or not she realized it, Charlie was his.
The look on her face took on a stunned aspect, tinted by the anger that was still broiling under the surface. Her cheeks colored red, and a hand lifted to wipe at her face as though she could hide the blush. She skipped entirely over the question of her flexibility and focused on what she believed was the problem at hand. “In yer best interests? What the fuck does that mean? And he thought it was a good idea for yah to come and wake me up in the middle of the fuckin’ mornin’? Are yah even listenin’ to yerself?!”
Rylee let out a long laugh, tears filling his eyes briefly as he slapped his thigh. “Do you hear yourself? Charlie, you are... you are my best friend,” Rylee grabbed one of her shoulders and ran a hand down her cheek. It was supposed to come across as a gentle touch but was more sloppy than that. “See, listen, we went to the strip club and he bought me all of these drinks and then he bought me a lap dance! I’ve never had one of those. But she was like... there. In my lap. And... and...” His voice dropped into a whisper. “I’ve never had a lap dance before. So I drank more.”
Charlie slapped at his hand, and gave him a shove to put more space between them again. When her fingers touched his chest, her brain made the note of how warm and firm the skin felt, the muscles flexing just underneath, and she had to shake her head to clear away those thoughts.
“Outta the two of us, right now, Ekholm, I’m the one makin’ more fuckin’ sense, which is a new one,” she growled, her voice dropping dangerously low, adopting the use of his surname to really explain just how angry she was. His descriptions weren’t doing anything to help calm her, instead only incensing her further as though that were his plan. She stared at him, her eyes tinged with a little abject horror at the mental image of Rylee getting a lap dance and still being entirely confused as to why that would be anywhere within the realm of ‘good for him.’
“So he took yah out, got yah piss drunk, got you riled the fuck up and then, what, sent you to my doorstep? Because...” And then a realization hit her. “You’ve been talking to him about me, haven’t you? Oh fuck, Ekholm, I...I am gonna break both of yer skulls against the other’s! What the fuck did yah tell him?!”
Rylee dropped his hands to his side, his eyebrows arching as Charlie burst in front of him, and despite his incredibly high level of intoxication his cheeks colored slightly. “Charlie...” he said softly, although it still came out slurred. “Lee, don’t be mad, please?” He reached for her, gently this time and managing to hold her still with his hands on her shoulders. “You look so incredibly hot when you’re pissed but I don’t like that you’re pissed. Lee, I don’t wanna upset you. I just wanna make you happy.”
He bent forward, making his face level with hers as he continued to speak in a nice calming tone. “There is nothin’ more beautiful than when you smile.” He lifted one hand and stroked her cheek, once more with a gentle caress rather than the sloppy moves he was making before. “All I kept thinkin’ of tonight was you. I wanted to be with you.” She felt locked in place - less from his grasp and more from the sudden paralysis of her own muscles; hands clenched into fists at her sides, stopped a quarter of the way into the motion of rising to touch his skin again. Her eyes widened as he was suddenly dipping his face toward hers, and she’d be damned to admit if her heart didn’t suddenly start in double time. Charlie realized she wasn’t breathing and let it out slowly, her surprise immediately extinguishing her anger.
“Rylee...what...what do yah think yer doin’...”
He moved forward, meeting her forehead with his and pressing the tips of their noses together while he went cross eyed as he stared at her. “I’m bein’ honest, Lee. This... this isn’t some liquor talkin’ or anythin’. I’m bein’ honest and upfront with you. I’m gonna wait if I gotta but I don’t want to wait anymore. I think you want this too.” He pulled his face away but only by a fraction of an inch, just enough to see her face completely as he traced her jaw bone with his fingers. Then he moved forward, parting his lips as he went to meet her mouth. And then he froze.
A cold sweat broke out on Rylee’s skin and all color left his face as he tried to clamp his mouth shut, but it was too late, he began to vomit and while the majority of it hit the floor, there was also a good portion that went down the front of Charlie’s night shirt.
“Oh no,” Rylee let out with a groan, suddenly feeling even more drunk than he did before and now sick as well.
That was not what she had been expecting. If Charlie was honest with herself, she was almost excited about the fact that Rylee had been in the process of kissing her. It wasn’t that she hadn’t exactly thought about it through the years, ever since that oddly timed kiss in his backseat the night of their high school graduation; nor that she’d thought about it a lot, just snatches of time here and there. But Charlie was anything but honest, with herself or anyone else. And the feeling of the still-warm vomit sliding down her chest to the floor killed any other budding romantic notions in her mind.
“Rylee. Go. Sit. The. Fuck. Down.” The words were hissed through gritted teeth, her anger so great that it simply vibrated from her frozen pose. Her eyes were wide and staring straight ahead, as though looking at the sight would give truth to what had happened and make it that much worse. Instead she turned her gaze on him, wanting him to park his ass on the couch and not move until she could remedy her own situation, and then get him the fuck upstairs to his apartment where he would hopefully cause less damage.
“Charlie, I’m sorry,” Rylee replied with a crack in his voice as his eyes filled with tears. He squatted down, batting Jack away from his fallen shirt, and began to try and mop the vomit off of Charlie’s shirt. The contact of his hand, so close to her chest, wasn’t unnoticed but Rylee felt it was best not to mention this. He tried his best to clean her shirt with his own but it seemed to only make things worse. “I’m such a fuckin’ disgrace,” Rylee hiccuped as he tried to get the vomit off of her. “Can’t even fuckin’ kiss you. Can’t fuckin’ do anythin’ right. Fuckin’ disgrace. I’m so sorry, Charlie. I’m so so sorry.”
He sniffed and looked at her with large eyes and complete sorrow on his face and made another pathetic hiccup.
She grabbed at his wrist, stopping the wiping mid-motion and pulling his hand away from her chest. Taking a deep breath, she took the shirt from him (frowning in disgust as her fingers met with some of the vomit) and tossed it in the direction of the kitchen. Jack followed the projectile, and Charlie dismissed such a thought from her mind, not wanting to imagine what her dog might be doing. Instead, keeping her grip on his wrist, Charlie tugged the shirtless and mumbling Rylee toward her couch, and pushed him into a sitting position on its cushions.
“Do. Not. Move.” Her tone brooked no argument, though before he could manage any kind of response she was gone, moving with quick steps to the bedroom, where drawers could be heard slamming, and then to the bathroom, denoted by the sound of running water and splashing. Charlie returned ten minutes later, smelling like deodorant and soap, dressed in a clean shirt that was several sizes too big and imprinted with the logo of the USMC on the front. The back proffered a name printed in large, clear type, but it was unseeable from Rylee’s current position. Obviously taking great pains to stay calm, yet still coming off as a pot about to boil over, Charlie held out a hand.
“I’m gonna take yah back upstairs, all right? C’mon, yah disgrace.” She tried to play off the last bit teasingly, but her patience was fraying if not already completely gone. Rylee sniffled and took Charlie’s hand, holding it tightly as he got to his feet with a stumble.
“I don’t think I’ve every had this much to drink. We had shots and whiskey and more shots and... and there were a lot of shots, Lee,” Rylee mumbled as he followed Charlie. “I just... I needed them. I had to realize stuff. And then I saw your door and I knew I had to come and see you and touch you and make sure you were all here. You’ve been gone for so long.”
He wiped at his mouth with his free hand and made another hiccup. “I’m so sorry, Lee, I didn’t mean to mess this up.” And all of his emotion and heart break could be heard in his voice as he stared at Charlie, stumbling along while he followed her and trying not to just sink to the floor like he wanted to do. She gritted her teeth while she lead him to the front door, and then out into the hallway, staying completely silent. Rylee was directly behind her, and the print of the name EKHOLM was clear on her back; she had simply chosen a shirt at random, and had never thought much of this particular shirt, at least, not when she was sober.
“Shhh, calm down. Jus’....jus’ take deep breaths, all right?” Once her door was locked and Jack was safely still inside, Charlie led Rylee down the hall and toward the elevator. Her grip on his wrist was gentle but firm, and she tapped the call button like it was a 911 key. Turning her eyes to stare up at the numbers along the top of the door, her gaze wandered over to Rylee for a moment to try and gauge how he was doing and if he was going to vomit again.
Rylee wavered back and forth as he pouted beside Charlie. His eyes were blood shot, his lips were still pale, and he still had a slight sheen of sweat on his bare chest. He rubbed his free hand over his face, running it through his hair and scratching at the tip of his nose. Then his attention was drawn away from how miserable he felt and directed to Charlie’s clean shirt.
“Ekholm,” Rylee mumbled. He brought a pointed finger to the back of Charlie’s shirt and traced the letters. “Ekholm. This is my shirt! How’d you get it, Lee? You’re so tiny in it. Like a little bird. My little bird. But my crumbs I had for you were puked on. Stupid shots of liquor.”
He let out a deep sigh and dropped his hand. “A little bird and all I am is a fuckin’ onion. A disgrace of an onion. I can’t even kiss you properly,” He said with remorse as he rolled his head and then stumbled forward into the elevator as soon as the doors slid open. He tripped over his own feet and fell into the elevator wall, accidentally tugging Charlie in and making her fall against him.
“Oops,” Rylee said with a grin, wrapping an arm around Charlie and looking down at her. He looked nearly happy if it wasn’t for the fact that he looked so ill. For a moment she froze, hands pressed against his chest. He was sweaty and sticky and his breath smelled awful, and if that hadn’t been combined with the anger that she was barely keeping in check, it really wouldn’t have been that bad of a position. Giving him a gentle push, she moved away in the direction of the floor buttons and slapped the number seven.
“An onion? An’ this ain’t yer shirt, I’ve had it...” She glanced down at the front and tried to turn her head enough to get an eyeful of the name on the back, but not enough to see whatever he was talking about. Trying to remember where she’d gotten the shirt was no good, either - she knew she’d had it for a number of years, but it’s source... Ah, there it was. Their fight, and then the discovery that she’d taken one of his shirts without even being aware of what she was doing. Just acting like it belonged to her. Charlie cleared her throat, giving Rylee a slow look. “I’ve had it for awhile. Maybe our laundry got mixed once or somethin’.” The elevator slowly ascended, and Charlie wished it would go faster.
“It’s my shirt, Lee,” Rylee pointed out with a wobbling finger. He stood up fully and moved forward. Charlie stood in front of him, her face to the floor panel, and Rylee bent to shorten the height difference between them. In a daring move he nuzzled his nose into her neck, a hand gripping the back of his shirt. “You look nice in my shirt, Charlie.” She froze again, completely uncertain how to respond to her friend’s drunkenness.
He pulled away from her with his hand still wrapped around the bottom of the shirt. Slipping to the floor, pulling at Charlie but not enough to make her fall, he pressed his bare back against the cool elevator wall. It felt nice and he closed his eyes, his hand dropping from the shirt. “You can wear it whenever you like, Lee, it can be yours.” His words dragged out, mumbling at the end as he nearly dozed off, the bumps of the elevator making his head swing to one side. “Lee, I don’t feel real good.” Charlie responded by folding her arms over her chest in a defensive pose, frowning.
“Yah don’t look real good either, onion. Jus’ sit, we’ll be back to yer apartment soon...” She glanced back up to the numbers lighting up in sequence above the elevator door. Her eyes tore themselves away from the lights and back to Rylee, who looked absolutely miserable; before she could think about it, a hand reached out and combed through his hair. The blond locks were long, like when he’d been younger, and her nails lightly scraped his scalp. It was a comforting gesture to her, and her fingers lingered in their position as she looked back up just in time to see them arrive at the seventh floor.
“All right, onion, on yer feet; don’t think I coulda dragged yah even when you were just a lil onion, and certainly not now, especially if you don’t wanna get wood burn.” Charlie repositioned herself in front of him, holding out her hands in order to assist in lifting him to his feet. She was unsure how steady he would be, and so her legs were spread and knees bent in order to give herself support in handling Rylee’s mass.
Taking her small hands with his own, Rylee tried his best to pull himself up to his feet, stumbling as he went but not knocking Charlie down. He paused, rocking from side to side, then took Charlie’s hand before he tried to make his way to his apartment. The walk down the hallway was long and hard. Rylee only wanted to lay down on the floor, curl up against the cold surface and sleep. Or maybe puke again. He wasn’t quite sure if he was over that yet.
Rylee pulled his keys out from his pocket and tried to get the door open but kept missing the keyhole. After a few tries he looked at Charlie helplessly, the color still gone from his face and his eyes closing with drunk induced sleep. After a moment of consideration he licked his lips and frowned. “I really wanna brush my teeth, my mouth tastes real gross,” He mumbled and managed to look even more pathetic.
She took the key from his hand and slipped it into the lock, spreading the door wide open and giving Rylee a little nudge to start walking into the apartment space. Her gaze slid to the next door over - assumedly Samuel’s apartment, though she’d never been there before - and instantly she felt another wave of anger wash over her. First, though, she concentrated on getting Rylee settled, and she took a firm grip on his elbow (which made a comical sight in itself, her slight stature trying to control his huge mass) in order to lead him in the direction of the bathroom.
“OK, where’s yer stuff?”
“What stuff?” Rylee mumbled as he tripped into one of the stools by his kitchen. He paused, frowning and rubbing at the shin of his leg then looking down at his bare chest. “Why did you... why did you take off my shirt? Are you tryin’ to get me into bed, Lee? ‘Cause... ‘cause if you are... that’s okay. You can do whatever you want.”
He turned and smiled at Charlie then his face went pale again. Pushing past Charlie he beelined for the bathroom and vomited once more. Despite feeling even more exhausted and disgusting, he felt some relief after that. Slipping to the floor with his head resting on the toilet he only wanted to get the sweat off of his body and to not feel quite like he was dying. But, the relief was there, even if it was small he didn’t feel like he would be getting sick once more. That portion of his drunken stupor had passed.
She’d been in the process of rolling her eyes and coming up with a retort when Rylee suddenly sprinted out of her grasp - the sound of retching kept her from the bathroom for a few moments until the noise stopped. Slowly she spied into the doorway, and then entered the bathroom. Pulling a towel from a rack on the wall, she offered it to him, unsure of kneeling down to try and dry him off herself. Her plan was to get him to bed, preferably soon.
“How yah feelin’, onion? Lil better?” A slow eyeball tried to asses his condition, and she turned to the counter, where a stack of paper cups were offered for rinsing. It wouldn’t be near enough water to help his impending hangover. “Stay here, all right? I’ll be right back.” With quick, sure steps, Charlie made for the kitchen, where after banging around in the cabinets for what felt like forever, she managed to find the cups. A quick turn of the kitchen sink faucet filled the glass nearly to the brim, and she carried it back to Rylee. “Here, drink this. Slowly.”
Rylee sat up and accepted the cup without any comment. Whatever Charlie said he had to do, he would do, because right now she was the only thing that seemed capable of keeping him from feeling more sick. He took a sip of the water, feeling the cold liquid go down to his now empty stomach, and let out a sigh. He remained silent as he took some additional sips of the water and while it made him capable of thinking a little more clearly since he was also beginning to develop a skull splitting headache.
“Lee, could you please get me my mouth wash?” He pointed up at the sink where it sat. The idea of standing at the sink and brushing his teeth only made his head hurt worse. For now he’d just use the mouth wash and spit it in the toilet. It was better than nothing. “Thank you, Lee, I’m feelin’ a lil better. Not much though, my head hurts.” His hair was a giant cowlick to the side and color was starting to return to his face a little bit at a time. Still, he felt gross and his head hurt. Grabbing the towel Charlie had given earlier he began to dry off his body from the sweat that had been brought on earlier.
Without verbal reply, Charlie spun on the balls of her feet and grabbed the requested mouth wash. Unscrewing the cap and filling it half full, she offered it to Rylee, still seated on the floor. If anyone saw her at that moment they might comment that she was actually being kind - such words would probably be met with by her fists, but for the time being Rylee was the center of her attention. “You feelin’ good enough to try and make it to yer bed?”
After grasping the cap, swishing the flavored liquid in his mouth and spitting it into the toilet Rylee let out another sigh. He gave a brief nod to Charlie and sat his cup and towel on the floor before trying to slowly get to his feet, fumbling and nearly falling over, but he was successful. The alcohol was still quite controlling of his mind which may or may not have been the cause for his sudden unlatching of his belt. He dropped it to the floor, making his way to his bathroom as he began to undo his jeans. Collapsing onto the bed he began to tug his jeans off, exposing his skivvies that he favored, but they caught up on his shoes which were far too complicated of things for him at that moment. With that, he fell backwards on the bed with his pants around his ankles, a little groan coming from him as his head ached further.
Charlie followed him to the bedroom, watching his movements to ensure that there would be no head-on collisions with furniture or other decor. But thankfully he made it soundly, and she could not deny that her eyes were drawn straight toward the image of him essentially dropping his pants right there in front of her. Her gaze climbed to the ceiling, away from the sight until she heard the noise of Rylee falling on the bed. Her gaze came back to him and she gave a sigh, moving forward to snatch at the clothing ensnaring his ankles. Once that was on the floor, she used the tips of her fingers to prod at his sides in order to get him to scoot into a position where she could pull the comforter over his prone form, tucking him in securely. Then she was left standing by the bed, feeling a bit useless.
“Uh...OK, well, now yah go to sleep. I’ll get more water to leave on yer nightstand.”
“No,” Rylee murmured as he reached for Charlie. Taking her hand he pulled her forward and with his free hand ran his fingers down her side. “Please, Lee, please lay down. Please stay by me. I just want you to stay close, okay? Please? You’re not mad anymore, are you?”
His bed was incredibly comfy and he felt it was only fair that after she had helped him so much during this evening she could enjoy the bed as well. He would like to give her more enjoyable things to do in the bed but at the moment he wasn’t even sure he’d be able to do that. Inching further to the center of the bed he patted the empty space and tugged at Charlie’s hand. She tried to resist his tugging, but eventually settled for sitting on the bed, lacing her fingers in his hand.
“No, I’m not mad,” she somewhat lied. She wasn’t mad at him, but she was still mad. But in order to pacify her friend, she’d linger for however long it took him to fall asleep. “Jus’ close yer eyes. I won’t go anywhere. Promise.”
“Jus’ lay down, okay? Like when I was in college and you visited. That time you got me drunk. You always get me drunk, Lee,” he said with a small, sleepy laugh. “I won’t try anythin’, I swear. I’d never force you to do anythin’. I just want you... just want you to lay down. Okay? That’s it.” He squeezed her hand, his eyes closing and yet he gave a smile. This was nearly the most perfect moment he could have thought to experience during this night. Well, things could have gone a lot differently and other things could have happened, but considering the series of events that brought them to this moment, this was okay too.
Her lips pressed into a line; and yet her body was propelled forward, laying itself down next to him. She was on top of the blanket, and he was underneath, and yet she could feel the warmth of his body through the thick fabric. Drawing in a deep breath, she let it out slowly. “There, are yah happy now?”
“Yes,” Rylee replied simply and draped an arm over her waist. He didn’t hold onto her or pull her close, this was enough for now and the smile on his lips didn’t fade. He nuzzled his face closer to her, the tip of his nose pressing against her shoulder, and he relaxed. “Thank you, Lee. My little bird.” Charlie kept herself carefully still, neither rejecting nor encouraging his movements. Old habits were hard to break, but it felt nice being there in the bed with him. She opened her mouth to say something, but then thought better of it and just kept her lips shut, instead content to wait until he’d fallen asleep.
Having Charlie there beside him was more relaxing, more lovely than he had remembered. It had been years since they had been so close and it had a power over him that he had long since forgotten. But now he remembered and despite that his head was pounding he settled in easily. It was almost a disappointment that he wasn’t awake longer to enjoy this contact between them because he fell asleep with little issue, his arm still around Charlie, his nose pressed against her as he breathed in her scent.