Disclaimer, etc., in chapter 1.
I think this is the last regular chapter. I'll write at least one more as an epilogue to wrap a few things up, but I think this is the end. That is, I think it's gotten where it needed to go. Thanks for coming on the ride with me!
Lightweights
I'm so warm and comfortable. Couch, him, closeness, TV, drinks. Everything is good, you know?, really good.
"How many points did they score?"
His face is red, dopey, close to mine. He's sloshed. What a lightweight.
"Runs, not points."
My bottle's been empty. I'm drinking out of his. It's almost empty. We've got another. It's good. But I'm not gonna be the one getting up to fetch it.
"How many runs?"
"You can't read the screen?"
I'd gesture but he knows where the screen is. Too comfy. Not moving.
"It's in commercial."
I snort. My lips join in the snort. Then there's spittle under my lip. That's okay.
"I'm supposed to remember?"
He laughs. I've been laughing. None of this is funny, but something was funny and we're laughing.
"You always do."
But I don't this time.
"Well, I don't this time."
Did I say that out loud or just think it?
"Umph," he sounds like he's falling over, "it's back."
"Yeah."
I don't know why I'm laughing but something's really funny.
"Who are they playing?"
"The Yankees."
We burst into roaring laughs. He's so stupid. Me, I'm just wasted.
"I mean, who are the Yankees playing?"
"That—orange team."
I fling my wrist toward the TV. Seriously, can't he read or see or whatever?
"Yeah, but what's that team?"
"Does it matter?"
"I wanna know."
"K, who wears orange?" I bug my eyes out at him. "Duuuuuh, the Orioles?"
"No, they wear black, right? The Giants wear orange."
"Around the collar, on the letters, yeah, that's the only place."
"The only place what?"
"The Giants wear orange."
He laughs, then stops abruptly. His face is blank and kinda confused.
"Wait. The Giants a football team."
"Duh. Baseball too. Oh, walk, he walked him!"
"But that was the Yankees' pitcher. Wait. What're the rules again?"
"Drink your drink."
He tries to glare at me but just looks drunk. We drink. I pour more but it stops not even half way through his glass.
"Uh oh."
I laugh and sort of fall into him when I try to sit back. He pushes me. But I'm comfy.
"Hey! Hey!"
Then we're kissing somehow.
Then we're going down the hall to bed again and I'm aching in the leg and the dick.
I can't keep up with him.
He seems to know it. He's crooking his finger sexily come hither.
I'm trying to walk to him but I'm not going anywhere. Just sliding or something.
I can see him sticking through his underpants and feel me sticking through too but I can't stay hard.
I try, get it back with my hand but he's farther away now than he was a second ago and I'm going soft again.
He sees it.
He says he's not going to wait for me.
He goes.
He's gone.
He pushes me from nowhere.
The room blurs when he does. Someone makes a dumb 'huh?' noise. I think that's me making the noise.
"You fell asleep on me."
I glare at him. I don't remember that. I don't know how we got on the couch either or why the lights are on when it was just dark.
"Did not."
I maintain innocence till proven guilty. Maybe maintain innocence then too.
"Did."
He spits the word at me but his face is red and lax and swimming.
"Liar."
"Hey."
"Hay is for horses."
His drunk glare…not reproachful…is that the word I want?
…
He groans.
I sort of snap up. Where'd I go just now?
He leans against me, tries to put his head on my shoulder.
"House, why'd you get me so drunk?"
His head's sliding down to my lap.
I laugh.
"Cause it's funny."
He groans again. His head's in my lap and I can feel his larynx vibrate against my left thigh.
"Gonna be so sick in the morning," he grumbles.
I hear him falling asleep. I laugh.
Then I remember something.
His groan turns into a snore before I can say it but I say it anyway.
"It's better than being bored."
Yeah…better than….bored….