The Fuck Journal

Chapter Seven

I had come to terms with it, granted, with a lot of kicking and screaming, or I guess puking and crying, and now I had to show him. I had to lay him down, hold him close, kiss him as lovingly as I could, whisper the words that I held in my heart, get lost in those soft, green eyes, listen intently to his sighs and gasps as we rocked into one another in a complete bliss, all of our own creation. I needed to feel his arms around me, pull me into him, hear him call me baby, hear my name pass between his red, wet lips as I loved him slowly, tenderly, telling him that he was my baby, as well, have his name fall from my lips, hushed, excited, and passionate. Duff. My Duff. My Lover. My Love.

Was I still worried that someone could bust us? Oh, yeah, of course. I really didn't know how I'd react if someone were to catch us or confront us about it (hopefully not like Classic Slash), but I was too excited about our night together to be bothered by it. He made me happy, and as far as I was concerned right now everyone else that had a problem could go fuck themselves. I had a date to prepare for and I was going to do it right!

I had actually managed to make it to the record store before it closed, but just barely. I had bolted through the door, hair flying, and ran towards the cassette bin and dug through it like a madman while the manager cussed me out that it was closing time. I glared at him and told him to fuck off; I was a man on a mission and this motherfucker wasn't about to stop me! After I found the tape I needed he argued with me about paying for it because it was after hours, so I just threw the money on the counter and walked out. Fuck that guy. But anyway, Duff had told me days ago that one of his favorite tapes had been eaten by the stereo in his kitchen, so that was first on my list. It wasn't much, but I thought it would be nice. Hopefully it would be a pleasant surprise for him.

Next stop was the liquor store. A couple bottles of Jack, a couple bottles of vodka, and what the hell, how about some wine, too? That was romantic!

I felt like an idiot as I stared at the selection, completely fuckin' confused and having no idea what to select. I must've looked odd, this bushy-haired, leather-clad dude scratching his head and muttering irritably to himself under his breath, fidgeting, trying to figure out which one would be best. "Red or white, red or white? Oh, shit, I don't know! Okay, okay, red, that's romantic, right? So...cabernet, pinot noir, zinfandel, merlot...what the fuck even are these?! Just fuckin' pick one, already! But what if it's not the right one...what if it tastes like swill?!" I paced up and down the aisle, glaring at all the bottles before me like they had personally offended me. Oh, god, this was hard! Just fucking pick one, man!

"Can I help you, sir?"

I jumped, ripped out of my pissy, agitated, wine-induced stress trance as a woman came up to me, smiling kindly and waving her hand towards the wine case. I stuttered, grateful for her help, and felt the knots in my stomach ease up a little bit. "Um, yeah, actually, you can. I've got a date tomorrow, right, and I'm trying to find a nice wine for it. Can you help me out? I don't know shit about wine!"

She gave a little giggle, turning to face the shelves and asked, "Were you looking for red or white? Vintage?"

"Uh..." I took a second to think. I wanted to do this right, so I wasn't afraid to drop a little money. "Red. How about vintage. Something sweet." For my sweet, goofy dork, I thought to myself, beaming a little.

"Okay! Well, we have some nice vintage ports, aged from fifteen to fifty years..."

"Fifty." I cut her off.

She nodded and grinned, weaving her fingers together, looking at me like I actually knew something about this shit. Vintage meant it had to be good, though, right?

She reached over, plucked a bottle from the shelf and dusted it off, I don't remember what it looked like, I just knew I had to get some good wine and get the fuck outta here because I had more shit to do before tomorrow. She passed it to me, saying, "This is the oldest, finest wine we have. Robust and fragrant, but it's got a hefty price tag."