(Charlie's POV)
Sure, sentimental moments are nice, but wild ones to tell the kids when they're older? Those are a thousand times better. Nick and I have wracked up plenty, (some of which we can't share though, like when we did it for the first time in a pillow fort), because they're not something a parent should share with their kids, you know? I'd rather share the stories that'll have them laughing, the ones that'll cause Nick and me too to look lovingly into one another's eyes. Basically, I want to have one of those cliche scenes in a movie where the kids are like "what were you and dad like as teenagers?" To which Nick and I look up, smile, then go, "well..." Does that make sense?
The dreamy look on my face fades when the clang of a fancy wine glass practically being slammed onto our kitchen island startles me, causing me to jump a tad. Standing in front of me is my bulkily built, and tall, boyfriend. His dirty blonde hair is awry as he energetically sticks his tongue out, throwing his head forwards and backward like he's at some rock band's concert.
Faintly playing in the kitchen is of course Dumb by Nirvana. Considering that he just broke out a sizable bottle of vodka the song choice is fitting. Fixing my posture to peer at his phone I notice that he's playing music from my playlist on Spotify, the one that I jam out to. It's full of songs that I have down, even full albums.
Thanks to how quickly Nick's moving his head there's a slight red tint to his face, bringing out his honey-colored eyes and pink, plump lips. Eventually, he begins to shimmy a tad in his socks but quickly chooses to abandon that idea due to nearly slipping. I don't know if I would've laughed or panicked if he did end up landing on his ass.
"I think I'm dumb, or maybe I'm just happy." He says with his whole chest, proceeding to repeatedly say, "I think I'm just happy" for as long as it does during the song as it continues to play. Judging my humanized golden retriever from afar, I suddenly choose to voice my stance on what he's doing, "Aren't health gurus meant to promote drinking water instead of alcohol?" Sassily, he raises a finger in the air, wiggling it as he dramatically opens our fridge, "I'm mixing it with homemade lemonade, so it's different."
Suddenly I'm eager to join him, so I lower myself off of the red barstool, "since when did we have homemade lemonade?! I thought that we finished all of it." Skeptically yet eagerly I make my way over to Nick who's now looking at me like a child who just got tangled in his web of lies. Assertively crossing my arms doesn't make him feel any better, so I instead choose to tap my toe against the tile like an upset mother, "someone's in a pickle, aren't they?" He nods, slowly pulling out a jug of lemonade from earlier this week, his eyes fixated on the floor. My mouth falls open as my eyebrows furrow. What a betrayal!
"It's just so good! I had to save the rest for myself. It's not my fault that you're a god at making homemade goodness." He argues, pouring both him and me a glass of his lemonade, instantly adding some vodka once our cups are half full with lemony goodness. "That's unfair! You put it at the very back of the top shelf." Bending over to pull open the freezer to get us some ice cubes, Nick chuckles. "Hiding it might've been selfish of me, but you rarely make it and I'm crazy for your lemonade, you know this! Don't get me wrong, I also love your pink lemonade, but the original version of anything is always superior! Classics are just unbeatable."
We made pink lemonade too, (well- he helped me, but I did most of the work because he was too busy kissing my neck.) The pink lemonade conveniently hadn't gone missing. Recalling the fullness of his lips on anything but my own causes me to shiver, as well as instinctively rub where he ate me alive. Nick smirks, knowing that he's making me dizzy with lust, causing my very slight anger with him to dissipate.
"I promise to not hide it again...but only as long as you make a whole gallon next time, okay?" I roll my eyes, amused by his words, "it's hard to get the different amounts of the ingredients right when you're making me hard, Nicholas. Also, I barely got any because you were too busy smothering me with your lips once the lemonade was done and you had a few cups. Next time I make lemonade I'll make a gallon, fine, but I'm claiming half of it for myself."
With our drinks now nice and refreshing thanks to the addition of the ice cubes, Nick pulls me close, guiding my hips, bringing them closer to his own. At some point, the music somehow gets louder, but I can still hear Nick's seductive words. "Doesn't the lemonade taste better in my mouth and on my lips instead of straight from the cup though? I was doing you a favor, sweetheart." Not wanting to let him get me under him so quickly this week, I change the subject, "quit talking and drink with me, Mr. Nelson!"
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(Nick's POV)
Time seems to slow when I'm staring at Charlie, completely floored by his looks. My head is sort of buzzing, but I'm much less out of it compared to my boyfriend. He's boggling at the night stars, his eyes wide like saucers, his mouth cutely gaping open. Squinting one of his eyes, and using both of his pinkies and thumbs to focus on one distant constellation at a time, I can tell that Charlie is having a blast. Only he would drunkenly study the sky, only he would giggle at how some of the stars arrange into the shape of a penis. Actually- I would too, with him of course.
Making room for myself on the porch swing in our backyard I smash our thighs together. Although I should be focusing on what he is, I can't seem to pull my eyes away from the more picture-perfect, living, breathing, perfection beside me. I swear that Charlie could be in a renaissance painting, and I bet that if he was alive at that time he'd be one. I can see a painter rhythmically flick his wrist, building the shape for his insanely curly hair. The painting would definitely be called 'organized chaos', or something like that- but fancy according to the time.
The feeling of Charlie tapping me on the thigh like a child wakes me up from my lovely daydream. He's pointing at a bundle of stars, claiming that it's a shaven ball sack, causing me to snort, "I love how much of a lightweight you are, Char." Without giving me a second to breathe, Charlie rushes to his own defense, "I'm not drunk, the most I am is tipsy! You can't tell me that the stars aren't in the shape of a naked ball Nick. I'm not drunk as hell, I'm just able to see, unlike you. Apparently, you need to go to the eye doctor, because I know what a ballsack looks like." His words are delivered sharply and filled with attitude.
"That's it! No more of that 'Paris Party' drink for you. First, you were being sassy, and now you're insulting me by saying that I don't know what a ball sack looks like, when you know that I do. How dare you?!" My words don't come off serious at all since I'm joking, but I still want to lightly punish him. Without warning I stand up, then throw him over my shoulders, causing him to shriek. "Put me down! I'm a grown man, you can't ban me from that delicious concoction!" Ignoring his protest while keeping a tight hold on his thighs, I head for our living room.
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Carefully and gently I place him on the couch, moving to get him a warm blanket right after. Someone has to be the responsible one here, right? At first, I wanted to get blackout drunk, but that can happen another time..maybe with the rugby lads. I need to catch up with those boys, (the ones that are decent human beings.) Tonight, I have to stay somewhat sober and care for my very wasted, hopefully, future husband.
Patting the empty part of the couch beside him Charlie wines, "Nick, Nicholas, Nicky!" When he's extremely drunk he seems to revert into a childlike state, and I don't mind it one bit, "yes, my love?" My words visibly make him melt, the way that his face becomes a pinkish tint telling me that. When I call him 'my love' it makes him all adorably giddy, I don't know why, but I understand the feeling because I adore it when he calls me 'handsome'.
Resting beside our coffee table is Lily. She's looking up at Charlie, slightly confused, her head slightly tilted as she lightly paws at one of his legs. "Oh," There's an evil glint in my eyes now, "now that I think about it..you haven't seen much of your daddy when he's quite intoxicated, have you? Yeah, he's been trying to be a good role model for you, but he might've unintentionally abandoned that idea." Following my words, I scoop our fluff ball of a dog up, and then gently place her onto Charlie's lap.
Char looks at her lovingly, but then looks up at me again, "Can you please sit next to me, Nicky?" I chew on my bottom lip, feeling conflicted, wanting to clean up the kitchen before cuddling with him; but his face is complicating me choosing to make a responsible decision. When my black cat of a boyfriend wants to, he can turn on his puppy eyes in order to use them against me. He knows that I'm susceptible to them, and it's cruel. Ahem, I secretly really love it. "Fine, but only because you're my weakness, and you know it. You're evil Charlie, pure evil."
I instantly flop down beside him, to which he responds by laying against my shoulder. Responding to my accusation that he's evil Charlie confidently states, "that's why I was the devil for Halloween one year Nicholas, gosh." My arm wraps itself around his torso, securing him beside, and right against me. "How could I forget? You looked really great that night." Charlie mutters an incoherent response, clearly getting close to dozing off, the sounds of Lily snoring directly below us resembling the rumble of thunder.
Just when I'm about to turn on the tv Charlie rises from his seat, screaming about his need to party. Pointing at the kitchen where our liquor cabinet is, he happily announces, "I want to-I want to drink that whole bottle of vodka with you." His eyes darken for a second as he stares at my arms, "you're so hot. I want you to fuck me."
I will admit that following through with his request is tempting, but he's drunk, so I won't. "Here's a compromise, we finish the vodka together, but I don't fuck you tonight. You're drunk, baby, I can't bring myself to do anything like that when you're under the influence. I promise to have fun with you sometime this week though, okay?" Although Charlie is visibly bummed that we won't be doing anything sexual, he agrees with my idea since that means we'll finish the expensive bottle of vodka.
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By the end of the night, I'd drank three-quarters of that vodka, letting Charlie finish it off. There goes me being the responsible one. My head is now pounding, but my vision is okay, overall I could be way worse. Jealous, Charlie asks me, "How are you not about to throw up?" For the past hour or so he had threatened me with the idea of him puking on me, mostly because he strongly felt that he would. We're going to need a trash can beside his part of the bed.
I shrug, throwing the glass bottle out, "I must get this sort of resistance from my dad, just like David did. French people are drinkers, Charlie, they love to down alcohol as they talk to friends. Well- at least that's what my dad said last I talked to him." My boyfriend slightly shakes his hips, some groovy song evidently playing in his head, "so French people are of the partying type? Darcy would love to go to France- again- if that's the case. They could go to a club or something. I'll tell Tara so that she can take her as an odd romantic gesture!" I smile, moving my mind away from my dad and my deranged brother, "what a proposition."
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"I can't believe you!" Charlie shouts in distress as he cleans off Lily's grass and mud-covered paws. She had just attempted to drag the outdoors, indoors, and Char wasn't going to let that happen. One time she had brought a dead squirrel inside, since that traumatic moment he learned to wait for her to come inside and then inspect her.
Honestly, it was kind of funny watching him go through the five stages of grief when she dragged that rodent inside. He had gone from saying "no, that can't be a dead squirrel on our kitchen floor because she's an angel" to tiredly going, "our dog is a cold-hearted killer." Charlie even cried over the rodent for a moment, contemplating giving it a little funeral the next morning. Now that was cute.
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For the next hour or so, Charlie silently chilled in the bathroom, scrolling through Instagram on his phone, waiting for the alcohol to come up out of nowhere. I was thinking about switching from a side part to a middle part when he came bursting out of the powdered room shouting, "Oh my gosh, I just realized that I never told you!" Now I could care less about how my hair is parted, now I'm intrigued by what Charlie has to say. You better bet that what anyway tells me Char will find out, same goes for whatever someone tells him, I'm bound to know. We're a package deal.
"Tara and Darcy are engaged! I think that they were planning on telling the friend group soon, but I found out because Darcy posted something on her story, and then almost immediately deleted it. And yes, I do digitally stalk people, but I'm not trying to be creepy! I'm just like your local nosy neighbor."
Okay, well- that's a whole lot of information to process. One, Tara and Darcy are engaged?! Two, I found out because Charlie was drunkenly scouting social media. And three, now I have to go to my mom's house for my extra fancy tuxedo to wear at the wedding. At first, I was kind of like "Woah! They're engaged before us", but then I was thinking, "they've been together significantly longer than Char and I, plus I'm making popping the question complicated."
Snapping his fingers directly in front of my face, Charlie brings me back to reality, "Hello? Earth to Nick?" I rub my head, playing it off as drunken dissociation. All I manage to get out is a soft, "hi, sorry. Woah, that's just- wow. I'm so happy for them." My mind is now preoccupied with the topic of marriage. Is it too late to break out some cheap wine? Charlie's lips curve into a sweet smile, one that brings me deep bliss, "Me too!" Knowing this information I'm compelled to talk to Tara about marriage and engagement so that I can work through my thoughts, but not yet. I want the couple to tell me themselves; gotta let them have their moment.
Author's note: As always, sorry if anything is wrong grammatically. I edit everything before posting but may miss something, or edit something incorrectly since I usually go over my writing at absurd hours lmao 😅😂 Anyways, I'm so excited to write the heart-to-heart between Tara, Darcy, and Nick 🫶
(Listen to Dumb by Nirvana, you won't regret it!!!)