"Hey, Cals, want a drink?" Brandon asks loudly, his voice booming over everybody else's. Brandon, naturally is a quiet, almost shy person. But when he gets drunk, the tables turn.
"No, I'm good." I tell him, knowing that this is probably the last night he's going to be drinking, and he's lucky I'm over the fact that he won't let me drink coffee anymore.
Mariana sits next to me, and looks at drunk Brandon and Matt happily singing. "Maybe taking them here was a bad idea."
"No, not really. Brandon just becomes a really loud, oversized six year old when he's drunk," I tell her, knowing that this is the first time that she's ever seen Brandon drunk, or actually drink for that matter. "I don't know about Matt, though." I say, only to see him wrap his arm around Brandon's neck and starts yelling random song lyrics as Brandon stops him, putting his hand over his mouth.
"No, those aren't the right words!" Brandon shouts, sounding disappointed. "It goes like this: Don't let them in, don't let them see..." Brandon trails off as he struggles to remember the rest of the words, and Matt just looks at him.
"THE COLD NEVER BOTHERED ME ANYWAY!" Matt and Brandon shout together before breaking down into a fit of giggles.
Mariana looks at me, her eyebrow raised. "An oversized six year old girl," She says, fixing my definition of drunk Brandon, and I only nod in agreement. "Think we should take them home?"
"No, let them have one more drink," I tell her, knowing that like always, Brandon being drunk will humor me. "It won't kill them. They'll just end up singing more Disney."
"HAKUNA MATATA! IT MEANS NO WORRIES FOR THE REST OF YOUR DAYS!" They shout, only proving my point, and Mariana just shakes her head, laughing.
"I'm sorry you have to deal with that when he's drunk."
"Hey, it could be worse," I say, shrugging. "At least the only thing he knows is disney. Come on, lets get them."
When I grab Brandon hand, he looks at me, and the smile falls from his face. "No more music party?" He asks, sounding truly sad at the idea, and I nod.
"We need to get home," I tell him, leading him towards the door. "We didn't take a car, remember?" I ask him, when though I know that he won't, even though it has was his idea to take the ten minute walk. Not that I minded.
"Cals... W-wait." He says, bending over to untie his shoes and take them off, and I grab his arm to stop him from stumbling into the street.
I just take his hand and start leading him down the sidewalk, and he starts to sing random songs to himself, stopping every few minutes when he can't remember a word. "Come on, Brandon. We could've been home already." I tell him when the ten minute walk turns into twenty.
"My feet hurt!" He whines, sitting down.
"Well, maybe if you put your shoes back on they wouldn't hurt anymore." I tell him, and he only looks at me before getting back to his feet.
"I wanna go home." He all he says before he starts walking again, and I can't help but smile. It's a good thing the he recognized our house. "Callie! The house isn't working! The door won't open!"
I only roll my eyes at him as I unlock the door, turning the light on as he stumbles into the kitchen and I follow him, making sure he doesn't do anything stupid.
"Huh. I thought this was our room."
"B, our room is upstairs."
"Next to the baby's?"
"Next to the baby's." I confirm, and he stands there, taking this information in. At first he seems okay with it, then a frown works it's way onto his face.
"When he comes, how am I supposed to have sex with you, then?" He asks, sounding dead serious. "You'll wake him up."
"I'll wake him up?" I ask, ignoring his previous question.
"Yeah, you can never be quiet," Brandon states, shrugging his shoulders. "Our room is upstairs, right?" He asks, tripping up the stairs and I follow him, making sure he gets to our room safely.
Brandon sits down on our bed, and I just go through his drawer, looking for one of his clean shirts. "Can I take my shirt off?" Brandon asks, not waiting for my response as he starts to unbutton it. "Wait! Did I play piano for it today?" He asks, and I'm pretty sure he would cry if I say that he didn't, so I just nod.
"You did. This morning." I answer, and he just stares at me.
"You know, I don't care if you're pregnant with like triples or something. You'd still be really sexy," Brandon says matter of factly, stumbling when he stands up. "I need help taking my shirt off."
I just roll my eyes at him. "Come here, then."
Brandon manages to stand there quietly as I unbutton his shirt slowly, and he grows impatient. "Cals, you're taking forever," Brandon complains. "Will it come off now?"
I just ignore him as I turn around, grabbing the first clean shirt I see for him. "I don't wanna wear a shirt," Brandon mumbles before planting a sloppy kiss on my cheek. I turn around to face him, and he pushes me against the wall gently. "You take my breath away." He says slowly, and I just stand there, not responding to anything he says.
Then he kisses me, his hands finding my waist, pulling me closer to him. Without a warning, he picks me up and walks over to our bed.
Even though he mostly has the mind of a six year old right now, the only thing I can think is that, Sex with drunk Brandon is the best.
"Hey, babe? Can I leave a mark?" Brandon asks curiously, clearly forgetting about all the times he has left a mark. I only nod in response, and I can feel him smirk against my neck. At first he doesn't do anything, then leaves a trail of sloppy kisses before he sucks gently.
"Brandon." I moan.
"Shhh." Brandon demands, looking at me.
"No." I say, mostly because I want to see his response.
"Come on, Babe. It's practice for when the baby comes. You need to be quiet." Brandon tells me, growing very serious, and I just roll my eyes at him.
"Just keep doing what you were before." I command him, and he just smiles.
"Happily." Brandon murmurs, tugging at the end of my shirt. I take it off and throw it somewhere behind him.
"Brandon." I moan out his name as his plants kisses down my throat to my bare chest. The feeling of his soft lips on my skin making me feel like I'm the only thing in his world that matters. My hands slide up his muscled back to his brown hair and I grip them tight in my hands while he begins to kiss down my flat stomach.
"You know," Brandon mumbles against my skin. "I can't wait for you to start showing. Then you would have a good reason for stealing my shirts." He sits back, pulling my jeans off, kissing down my hips and thighs.
"Brandon, come on." I beg.
He doesn't answer, just starts kissing my neck, trailing to my chest. He moves and sucks on my navel, causing me to jump.
"Did I find a sweet spot?" Brandon asks, looking at me.
"What?" I pant, loosing my train of thought for a few moments.
Brandon nods. "Yup," He says proudly. "I found a sweet spot. I want to make you scream," He whispers into my ear, making me shiver. "I want the neighbors hear you beg."
"Hmm." Is my response as my head falls to his shoulder, he laughs a bit, kissing my shoulder. "Brandon," I plead, tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck "I need you."
"I don't think the neighbors heard that." Brandon murmurs, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
"Fuck you. Do you want me to call them or something?"
Brandon actually seems to consider this, and I pull his lips to mine. "I wasn't serious." I tell him.
"Oh," Is all Brandon says, sliding into me. "Fuck, Callie. You're so perfect." He buries his face in my neck, moving relentlessly. I gasp and tug on his hair, making him look at me. He runs sloppy kisses along my lips and jawline.
"Fuck, Brandon." I moan, my hands finding his chest. Sweat breaks out along our bodies, his hands pulled at my hair, lips going everywhere, heavy pants exchange. My hands run up from his hips, to the upper part of his back. He kisses my chest and slides a finger between my legs.
"Fuck." It's a small, quiet moan, and he groans at the sound.
"God, Callie. You're so hot when you do that." He mumbles, slowing his movements. He curses and collapses besides me. For a few minutes, we're just heavy breathing.
"I'm going to bed," Brandon announces, wrapping his arms around my waist. "And you should, too."
The next morning, when Brandon wakes up, he wakes me up. "Fuck. Dammit, Callie. Why didn't you stop me from drinking so much?" Brandon asks, his green eyes showing concern, and I know that it's going to take him a while to forgive himself. "You know that it's not good for the baby."
"I figured you could have some fun before the baby comes, and I didn't drink at all. No worries." I tell him, rolling over.
Brandon just sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, looking around our room. "Well, it's good to know that what happened last night wasn't a dream."
When I don't answer, Brandon immediately grows concerned. "Are you okay? Did I hurt you last night?" He asks quickly, and I know he's about to regret almost everything that happened last night. "Because if I did, I'm sorry. I don't remember that."
"No," I say quickly. "You didn't hurt me."
"What's wrong, Callie?" Brandon asks quietly, and I don't answer, he sighs. "You know that you can tell me anything. Callie, please. Whats wrong?"
"I can't do it, B," I finally mumble, looking at him. "I can't be a mom. I'm not good enough. You were so happy when I told you, I just couldn't tell you this. I-"
"You will be a great mom. And nobody can tell me that you won't be. If they do, they're crazy," Brandon says, and I can hear the sadness in his voice. "And you could've told me earlier. It's too late to get an abor-"
"I wasn't going to kill a kid, Brandon."
"Then I'm right. You'll be the best mom anybody could ask for. Come on, I think it's time for some of my serious pancakes," Brandon says, getting out of bed. "Ugh. And something to get rid of this headache."