On My Way to You exclusive, before the events of Chapters 41 and 42...
Delicate traces of passion hung in the air, with pilfered rosé and the intimate mix of Dior and some fifteen-dollar cologne you'd buy from a cute local shop. It's a strange scent, but not to the person whose giggles could be heard coming from an otherwise quiet bedroom, nor to the man next to him with his shushing and feigned disputes that were fooling nobody.
They were on the bed, wrapped in a tangle of bedsheets and each other until Emery decided it was a good idea to play keep away with a 300-dollar bottle of wine.
"Hand it over, Emery. I'm serious." Cameron's stern voice was kept to a whisper for God knows what reason. They were the only people in the room. "You've had enough and you're spilling everywhere! Look at–"
Little splashes of pink seeped into white bedsheets, a messy result of Emery's acrobatics as he tried to keep the wine glass from the bad man who was determined to take it away from him. He was drunk, and a drunk man is not to be messed with when he's giddily refilling his drink and going against everything that was being said to him by his concerned boyfriend. He ignored Cameron plainly, his shaky hands unable to keep the bottle steady over the glass. The wild clinking made Cameron wince as he braced for the sound shattering on the floor, but it never came.
This boy is about to give him a heart attack.
"You know Blake's gonna kill you when he sees that empty," Cameron said, lunging to Emery in hot pursuit of keeping that from happening, his fingers grazing the air where the bottle had been.
Emery's laughter bubbled, successfully evading every single attack thrown at him and even managing to steal a sip from his glass or two. Everything looked exquisite on him, even buffoonery, but no matter how good Emery looked drunk and flushed in Cameron's shirt, Cameron was still determined to put a stop to his descent into a painful hangover in the morning.
Emery shrugged, eyes rolling drunkenly before sticking his tongue out. Cameron always knew he had the heart of an iPhone emoji. "Well, I wasn't the one who stole it!"
Cameron slipped his hand underneath Emery's elbow. "You made me," he murmured.
"Not my fault you're hell-bent on impressing me, sweetheart," Emery said, shaking the liquid in the glass, his wrist twisting lazily as he pointed at the bottle's label with his pinky. Cameron's lips twitched. Emery always calls him that with such gentle affection when he's drunk. "Hey, hey, how do you read this?"
Cameron hummed, resting his chin on top of Emery's shoulder. "I don't know."
"You don't know?" Emery stared at the French-made label one more time. "That's odd."
"It's French, Em."
Emery looked at him with a curious expression of a three-year-old. "Aren't you French?"
Okay. Cameron thought. He's definitely drunk. "No?" He pressed his hand on Emery's forehead, forcing him to look up. "Do I sound French to you right now?"
Emery's shoulders bobbed. "I dunno," he said, taking another sip, not noticing that Cameron's hand was slowly reaching the tip of his glass. "Whatever this is, it's making me feel things."
Cameron laughed, feeling the bedsheet grazing the inside of his thigh when Emery moved. "About me?"
Emery finally looked up to his own accord, and they shared a look, one that had grown familiar between the two these past few days. Cameron realized that he was now completely hovering over Emery after that endless wrestle for that rosé bottle, which was now conveniently laying forgotten on the foot of the bed. The rose itself sat calmly in the glass in Emery's hand, his face just as still with a look of anticipation as Cameron's breath tickled his nose.
Cameron studied him closely, a plan forming in his head. He wanted nothing more than to kiss Emery. Not even because he liked kissing his lips, but because he liked kissing the person, his beautiful person who managed to place him in an emotional headlock every time he fluttered his eyes like that, or showed off his drunken smile, which seems to be way cuter than his normal one, both of which Emery is doing right now.
Cameron could give himself an award for self-control.
Emery's expression had turned into a sly grin as he realized that he'd been cornered. His lips parted, anticipation bubbling in his stomach as Cameron's face became more difficult to focus on, and that feeling lasted two seconds before the man completely withdrew, revealing Emery's prized wine glass in his hand.
The look of betrayal on the redhead's face was comical. "Aw," he mumbled with genuine disappointment. "You tricked me."
Cameron laughed, a raspy sound caught in his throat as he set the glass behind the nightlamp, away from Emery's grasp before leaning in to kiss him for real this time. Emery pretended to dodge it, but nothing moved other than his pride.
"Feeling dizzy?" Cameron asked.
"No."
"Are you lying?"
Emery belched. "No."
Cameron grimaced as he put the bottle away, looking at it like it was some sort of disgrace. "I knew this was a bad idea."
Emery giggled, his head finding a comfortable perch on his boyfriend's bicep because why else would it be there if not for him to use as a personal pillow? Cameron didn't mind. He only needed one hand to spread open a book anyway. He made it into eight chapters of Good Omens before he got bored and decided he wanted to play with Emery's hair.
Minutes of stillness passed when Emery looked up at him, blinking slowly. "There's something I've always wanted to ask you."
"Hmm?"
"Why doesn't anybody know your middle name?"
"Who says that?" Cameron said. "Everyone knows my middle name."
"Really?" Emery shrugged. "It never came up."
"Society doesn't... generally discuss middle names on breakfast tables." Cameron placed his thumb on Emery's cheek, unable to resist the urge to pinch.
"Okay. Well, I don't know."
"You don't know my middle name?"
"Nope."
"You've had a crush on me for years and you don't know my middle name?"
Emery huffed. "Don't be full of yourself, I wasn't crushing on you 24/7. I had other stuff. I had AP History."
"Okay, okay," Cameron whispered next to Emery's ear, pressing a kiss below it to appease him. It worked.
"So what is it?"
"It's lame."
"Everyone's middle name is lame." Emery sat up, and Cameron saw the red prints left by his thumb on the small of Emery's back. He touched it unconsciously, wondering if it hurt, and making a mental note to stop doing that thing he does when he gets too excited. "I have a cousin named Parker Messiah. I mean why the hell would you put those two together?"
"Nicholas," Cameron murmured. "My middle name's Nicholas."
Emery turned around so fast that Cameron was worried he'd break his neck. "Are you kidding me?"
Cameron hummed yes and Emery let out a self-deprecating groan.
"Why? What's wrong with it?"
Frustration spilled out. "Nicholas is such a pretty name!" Cameron stared at him, confused. "Why couldn't have my parents given me a pretty name like that?"
Cameron was almost offended. "Your name is fucking pretty."
"Okay, I don't need your validation right now," Emery sassed, pressing a hand dramatically on his chest. "Just let me feel. It's not fair, you know, everything about you is hot."
Cameron couldn't help but burst into laughter, his face finding a comfortable nook in Emery's hair as his chuckles gradually faded, the sound echoing in the room.
"Now that I think about it, why isn't that your first name?" Emery pondered aloud, an unmistakable glint in his eyes "You would've been ten times hotter. I would've been all over you."
"Would've been?"
Emery snorted. "Oh shut up."
"You keep saying that but you don't really mean it."
They both knew a banter was coming the moment Emery's chin lifted and Cameron's back left the bedpost. "You're such a prick. No wonder your middle name's Nicholas."
"My middle name makes me a prick?"
"Yes," Emery confirmed with a smirk. "Apart from your sickening attitude."
Cameron flaunted his face. "And sickening looks?"
Emery shot him a judgy look before teasingly peeling himself away. "Ugh."
There was a moment when Cameron swore he felt his insides turn into a pile of mush when Emery gave him that look, and before he knew it, their mouths were opening on top of each other, and Emery was smiling into the kiss, circling his arms around Cameron's neck to pull him closer until they both tumbled back into the pillows.
Emery's fingers ventured toward Cameron's pants, clumsily fumbling with the zipper when a hand suddenly stopped him. "Nope," Cameron said softly, kissing Emery's cheek. "You're still drunk, babe."
Emery pouted. "You're drunk too doesn't that cancel things out?"
"I've had a few. You've had a few hundred. There's a difference."
"You're overstating. I'm not that drunk."
Cameron's nose scrunched when Emery breathed into his face. "Oh, sweetheart you really are."
"But I wanna kiss," Emery begged, adding tone to that last word.
Cameron's face softened, his expression letting Emery know that he absolutely wanted to, but his mama raised a good boy. "I know," he mumbled gently. "I'll kiss you in the morning."
"Are you just saying that because my breath smells like wine?"
Cameron's grin widened. "Maybe."
"Ugh," Emery exasperated, his head dropping on the bed with frustration, causing Cameron to laugh when a hand shoved his face away. "Men are impossible."
Cameron propped himself up with his elbow. "Good night, beautiful," he said in an overeager voice fitting for a man who just denied sex in the middle of the night, kissing Emery's bare shoulder as the latter grumbled.
"I will not be wooed," Emery declared, raising a finger in the air. "I will hate you until this alcohol wears off."
"I deserve it."
"You do."
"I definitely do."
"Stop talking to me."
"Okay."
"You're still talking! How am I supposed to hate you if you keep talking?" Emery complained, trying to hide the smile in his voice.
Cameron was laughing, and although Emery's back was turned to him, he could tell that he was too. At some point during the night, the bickering stopped, and it was replaced by snoring and mutual hope between two boys who were new at this just as much as each other.
A desperate prayer that this feeling never ends.