The Dramatic Spiel of Arthur and Chardonnay~ (7,145 views)

Staying over Chardonnay’s condo again after going months without being there was nice. Really nice. He definitely wasn’t using Chardonnay for her bed and he wasn’t lying when he said she was the only thing he really wanted here. But her bed was a nice perk and he was reminded, when he lied down and cuddled with one of her pillows, why he had let the nights he spent at her place become his ‘spoiled’ days. It was so nice, like sleeping on a cloud. He didn’t wake up for anything, not the sun filtering in, not the sound of the rain letting up. He didn’t wake up before Chardonnay did. He slept in until well after noon, when his eyes slowly opened. And he was greet with the sight of her looking over at him. He had almost thought that last night might have been a dream, so he felt happy, even when she whacked his face with a pillow. His response was a grumbled ”hey” that held little force behind it. He listened to her laugh as she bounced out of bed and moved to the bathroom. He watched her as she went, propping himself up on his elbow, not able to get rid of the smile on his face even though he tried to.

He got himself dressed with the clothes that he’d dried with hers last night, the same jeans and plaid button down he always wore. His shirt could have used an iron, but whatever. It was better than just trying to walk around in a sweatshirt. He stared out at the view he hadn’t seen for months. The city looked messy, with trees bent and power lines down. He hoped there were no road closings on the way back to Salem. He glanced at the phone in his pocket, which had just started to vibrate. It was his sister, and he answered her call, still overlooking the city below him. Apparently she and Adelaide had come over and she was concerned because he was nowhere to be found. Right... he rubbed his forehead and made up an excuse about Jason not wanting to be alone. She was irate, as he thought she would be, but he lied and told her that he’d gone to his place before the storm had gotten bad. She was pouting, Arthur could tell, but he promised her he’d pick up some lunch on his way home. Susan sounded more appeased, then, and he hung up the phone, knowing he had to get home. He waited for Chardonnay to finish in the bathroom and then left. He wanted to kiss her again but she was already buy with something else, so he just left with a ”bye” and headed down to the lobby. There were many rich people there, some who gave him wary glances, but Arthur paid them little mind and let them stare. He couldn’t be bothered with their opinions. Not when he was in such a good mood from last night.

The next time he went to work, he found out they’d closed the day after the storm. Power had gone out, anyway, so why should they bother trying to have the theater be open if nothing would work and no one would come to watch a movie even if it was? The next time he worked Jason was there, looking and feeling a lot better. He said he’d called Thomas up and told him all about how he’d tried one of Chardonnay’s recipes the other day. Arthur only half-listened to the conversation until Jasmin repeated her name, and remembered the girl who had stormed in here, and Arthur gave her a glare so fierce she just went along with whatever he said. Afterwards he told her to lie to Jason and tell him she’d liked the place. No use in hurting the old man’s feelings with her snarky attitude, he reasoned, and Jasmin agreed when she heard the logic. Still, that made him think about what she’d said the other night. That he cared about the theater, that he wouldn’t be a bad business owner, that he could do it. He both hated and liked the feeling remembering her voice saying that gave him. On the one hand he hated that she had enough power over his emotions to give him that elation but on the other hand, hearing her say it, the person who’d been his biggest enemy since they met... made him feel accomplished. He was lost in thought most of the day and before too long Christian was the first one to ask if he got laid last night. Arthur rolled his eyes in response and went over his practiced lines. No, he was single, no, he wasn’t interested in meeting Christian’s sister or anyone the guy knew. Jesus Christ. The guy would not stop trying to talk to him, either.

With Jason back, he finally got to see the organization job Arthur had pulled off in his absence. Jason appreciated it, a lot, because now everything was neat and had its own place. Arthur had decided to keep the popcorn company and cut away one of the candy bars that no one ever purchased, which resulted in a generally satisfied consumer response, except for the few complaints about the candy bars. But Arthur wasn’t an idiot. He knew people went to the dollar store across the street and snuck in candy bars. So it was more important, he thought, to keep the one thing they were inclined to buy here what people liked instead of some candy bars that were available across the street.

And, with the office finally organized, Arthur could help out the part-timers close their stations again. The kids started getting out earlier than the used to and he didn’t feel as hated as he used to. Jason meanwhile walked around the floor cracking jokes instead of doing the closing paperwork. Business went on like this for the rest of the week, though Jason wasn’t always there. By the time he got home on Saturday evening, he craved the arrangement he had with Chardonnay. They agreed to meet up and he drove the hour down to her condo, parked in his spot, and paid the night guard little mind (the guard seemed to recognize him now). He barely had time to ring the doorbell before he was pulled into a kiss that he reciprocated eagerly. This time he wasn’t hung up on the pregnancy scare or the fight, and he got her top and bottom off well before they had moved past the parlor and into her bedroom. And it felt amazing, better than he remembered, even. She was louder than he remembered her being but he certainly didn’t mind, especially not with the way her hands clawed at his skin. Even when she finished earlier than he thought she would have she didn’t stop making noises and sounds for him, and by the time they were finished, he was exhausted. After he cleaned up he flopped back onto her bed, wearing his sweatpants, and fell asleep pretty readily.

The next few times they hooked up it went realitively the same. He noticed that she didn’t tell him anything else about her restaurant, except that no one else had quit. Though he was curious, he let it go, because they didn’t need to get to know one another. All they needed to know was how to get one another off. And they still bantered and squabbled, sometimes after sex, sometimes in the morning. Some of the time the squabbles between them just made Arthur lean over and kiss her again, grumbling his responses to her into her skin. Sometimes those kisses started to trail down her neck until he got to her breasts, and by then, a morning round was usually imminent.

He liked looking forward to hooking up with her once a week. And as the New Year rolled around, he found himself again thinking about how odd this turn of events was for the two of them. He never thought, back in school, he’d ever have any relationship with Chardonnay. But here he was. Here they were.

Susan and Adelaide had come to his apartment to watch the ball drop in New York. Despite Arthur’s words against it, Susan let her daughter try a sip of her wine. Adelaide proceeded to ‘get drunk’ afterwards. Oh, Susan and Arthur totally knew it was an act, and when Adelaide crashed on the couch Susan leaned over and whispered that she had tricked Adelaide, and that was actually just sparkling cider she’d had a sip of. But then the conversation shifted, as Arthur knew it would. Susan didn’t tell him to give her the details about why he’d gotten upset that one morning he’d come to her apartment. She didn’t want to know them, and she didn’t need to. She just told him to be safe and that, if he was having sex, to always use protection and not to get someone he wasn’t serious about pregnant. Even though it was hard for Arthur to talk about this with his sister, he knew she was worried about that night, so he listened to her and told her if he did have sex, he’d be careful. She hummed in response, as though she didn’t believe his ‘ifs’, and reiterated how hard raising a child was. Arthur thought she was too drunk to be his nagging mother-figure tonight but, of course, she found a way. Until she passed out on his floor and he had to carry her to the bed, anyway.

Susan and Adelaide left the next day and Susan gave him her wine to keep. Arthur still had it in his fridge. A week or so after the holiday, Arthur was feeling pretty desperate for company, and he didn’t want to drive all the way up to Chardonnay’s apartment. At some point he’d told her his neighbor moved and that she could come down here if she wanted. He expected her to reject that offer, but he really wished she wouldn’t. And, to his surprise, she hadn’t. This was the first time she’d be coming back to his apartment in years.

He hadn’t changed that much. There were more pictures in the living room though. There was one of his sister, himself, and Adelaide at his college graduation sitting in a frame on the desk. It was one of the pictures where Susan was crying, Arthur was making a weird face at her, and Adelaide was laughing. On the wall was a larger picture of him, Susan, and Adelaide that had been Susan’s Christmas card last year – the three of them in sweaters with a snowy background behind them. And the last picture he had in a frame on the coffee table, beside the one of his graduation, was one of just him and Adelaide ad her last father-daughter dance. Or... uncle-niece dance, in this case. Arthur hadn’t put these pictures out himself – Susan had, when she came over for New Years’. Aside from the pictures, Arthur’s living room wasn’t much different. He had a nicer TV (Susan gave him her old one when she’d upgraded), and a nicer set of curtains, but other than that the layout was the same.

And it was on his couch, staring at his pictures, that he found himself an hour after Chardonnay had agreed to come down.

An hour... she’d be here any minute, wouldn’t she? But she wasn’t. Ten minutes past. Then fifteen. Then twenty. He got up off of the couch and looked out the window. There was no sign of a car coming into the lot. There was no light aside from the streetlamps outside the window. Where was she? He checked his phone, but there was no next. No I’m running late message. She was so spoiled, she’d just... she just couldn’t be bothered to text him right? But then, what if she couldn’t? What if her car swerved off of the road? Or what if someone hit her on the highway? What if she was in a stretcher right now because some drunken idiot couldn’t keep his hands off of his keys?

No, no. He was stupid. She wouldn’t get in an accident. But then... she’d had car trouble a month ago. What if it broke down in the middle of traffic? What if someone rear ended her and then she wound up swerving off of the ramp into the water below on that gorgeous bridge he always passed to get to her place?

He didn’t realize he was about to drink the wine his sister had left him until he was halfway through pouring the cup.

Wait – what was he doing? He didn’t need to drink. He stared at the bottle of Pinot Noir in his hands. She’d be here in a minute... three passed... then five... then the shot of wine was gone and down his throat. It felt good and he hadn’t actually drank for any particular reason in a long time. He already felt a tingle in his chest but it wasn’t enough. He was overreacting. Chardonnay was probably just taking her sweet dandy time getting here... her parents weren’t being called to confirm her body... it was his fault she was on the road.

The next glass emptied rather quickly. Who was going to take over her restaurant if she died? Her father? He thought of Thomas. No. Why was he thinking of Thomas? Why wasn’t this working?! She was fine! She would never die over his ass. Arthur downed the next cup and he felt warmer. Yeah... that was right. She wouldn’t die over him. She would haunt him if she did... probably just appear in spirit and tell him this was all his fault... spooky. Maybe he should buy an Ouija board. You couldn’t be fuckbuddies with a ghost, right? Was this her way of calling the relationship off? That’d be a pretty shitty way for her to do so, if it was. He’d have to yell at her. How would yelling at a ghost go though? Would she yell at him via Ouija board? Or was he going to have to buy a medium’s time to argue with her again?

Arthur heard the door and blinked, then got up. He left the glass and bottle of wine on his coffee table, humming to himself. His legs felt kind of weird. He regained balance as best he could by slumping on the side of his door frame. He opened the door and Chardonnay was there, bathed in the light from his apartment. He blinked. She wasn’t dead. Her car was behind her, in the lot. It wasn’t smashed into a tree, or on fire because some drunken idiot ran a red light and slammed right into her.

”You’re not dead.” He said, and before he could think about how weird it was he reached over and pulled Chardonnay into a hug, burying his face into her shoulder before she could pull away. She smelled nice. He liked the way she smelled. He giggled against her skin and clung to her, not wanting to let go. She was warmer than a dead person, so much warmer, so much squishier and softer. ”...at least, you don’t smell dead.”

Arthur was comfortable where he was, with his arms wrapped around Chardonnay. She was just as angry as she usually was, yelling at him to open the door and calling him a jackass. But he was used to it. He would rather her call him a jackass forever than be dead in the bottom of the ocean, or on the side of a ditch, or in a fiery explosion of cars. He didn’t want that to happen. He would feel guilty if that happened, he would be sad if she died, he would be sad if she wasn’t around to argue with him and fuck him and spend time with him even though they hadn’t really had any bonding moments, necessarily, since they resolved their fights.

He giggled again and let her push him away gently, and when he felt her hand on his forehead, it felt so weird! Why was she palming his forehead? He giggled at the feeling and his cheeks were pink. Why was she holding him that way? Did she think his forehead was going to clunk forward and hit her forehead? That wouldn’t kill her. Nothing could kill her, obviously. She was just going to live forever, like a vampire. Or something. He looked over into her eyes with the drunken smile on his face and even as she spoke all he wanted to do was kiss her. His eyes drooped, so they were half lidded, as his hands slid from her back to her waist. ”cars kill people, but not you” he said. Not her. ”and I’m fiiiiiine,” He added.

He giggled again and leaned forward to try and kiss her, his breath smelling like alcohol and grapes. He tried to pull her into the apartment and close the door behind her but he stumbled, instead, and if Chardonnay’s hands hadn’t been on him he probably would have tripped right into her chest. ”oops... where’s the door?”

Arthur just laughed more at Chardonnay’s question, not bothering to answer it. What did he do? Nothing! He just occupied himself until she arrived! That was all! And now she was here, so they could kiss and sex like they usually did. He wanted to kiss her, he wanted to touch her, he wanted to get her feeling just as happy as he was even though she seemed grumpy right now. He didn’t know why she was so grumpy. When she pushed him away from the kiss and told him no, he pouted, completely unsure why she had pushed him off. Why not? That was all they did together right? Kiss and touch each other? Wasn’t that what she wanted when she came over?

Though her question answered his, sort of. He liked the way it sounded when she said his name. She said he was drunk and he snorted, and shook his head. ”nut-uh. I’m not drunk.” he slurred. Even though he was a lightweight he hadn’t had that much to drink. He turned his head to look into the living room and saw the drink sitting there innocently on the coffee table. He just drank some, just a little, so that he didn’t have to think about how Chardonnay was probably dead somewhere. But she wasn’t! She was right here and he wanted to kiss her but she was still holding his forehead back. He let out a half-whine sound.

”Chardonnay, I want to kiss you,” He complained. He continued to point when she asked how much he drank. ”just... a little... I would have stopped if you came here sooner...”

When she closed the door Arthur’s smile was still intact, because that meant she was staying and that she definitely wanted to have sex with him! He didn’t believe that he was drunk. Tipsy, sure, but he wasn’t drunk! But she was still holding his forehead back and he was trying to overcome it by leaning forward – she was resisting pretty successfully – and it wasn’t fun anymore. He just wanted to kiss her. She almost died and all he wanted to do was kiss her. He thought she was going to show up as a ghost... all he wanted to do was kiss her.

”Why not? I’m not that drunk. I’m fiiiiiine. You usually love to kiss me.” He said, the whine still present in his words. He looked over at Chardonnay and blinked. Her words were only half registering. He lifted his hand from her waist up her side, to her stomach, to just underneath her breasts, then back down to her waist where it’d been from the start. His touches weren’t working on her like they normally did. Why? Why did he drink? She was right, he didn’t have to drink anything. But he didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about her dying the same way his sister told him their parents had died. He couldn’t stand it. He didn’t want that to happen. Why was he thinking about that? He drank to forget about that! No! Get this stupid worry out of his head. Chardonnay was here, he was feeling bubbly!

”Because cars kill people.” he said as response, quieter this time. An hour could have killed her. An hour could have made it so that she was dead in a wreck and haunting him and then he’d have to buy an Oujia board to talk to her and where did they even sell those? He didn’t want to talk to her as a ghost. He didn’t want her to die. He lifted his hand up to her hand on his forehead and pulled it down, the pout still on his face, the tremor still in his shoulders. But then he brought her hand to his lips with a proud grin on his face, and kissed the back of it. ”I’m kissing you! I win.”

Arthur didn’t see the problem with her letting him kiss her. But she definitely was not budging and he didn’t like it. He also didn’t like being compared to a kid, either. But instead of complaining about it he just let a few giggles come out. But when he touched her she didn’t respond like usual – she didn’t moan and lean into his touch, or kiss him, and he soon lost interest in trying to touch her sexually. Instead he was more interested in her face, which even as he kissed the back of her hand, he wished it was her face he was kissing. He wondered how much effort she’d put into her appearance to come here. Did she ever put in a lot of effort? She put on makeup, makeup to hide her face. He usually got to see her face in the morning though and he didn’t know if he’d get to see it now.

”I... could’ve?” He asked. He was so sure that if he called her or texted her she’d just get mad at him. She would call him desperate or not pick up and answer at all. Or maybe it would have been the distraction she needed to veer off the edge. No, no, no! He shook the thoughts away and snorted when Chardonnay wiped her hand on him. He liked the feeling it sent up his arm. ”Noooooope. I’m not going to my room if you don’t come, too!”

Instead of obeying her and walking towards his room, he reached for her again, trying to pull her into a hug that, ultimately, ended in him stumbling forward and clutching her for support. He pulled away and stared at her with wide eyes, taking in her face. He couldn’t see her freckles, they were hidden, and he could see a color on her eyelids that wasn’t natural. ”Are you gonna do makeup in the morning, too?”

Chardonnays growing irritation was less irritating to him than it was funny. He was used to dealing with her angry at him – he always got her angry at him somehow – but right now the way she yelled and glared over at him just made him giggle. Her face and neck were getting flushed and he wanted to kiss the skin, and feel if it was as hot as he thought it would be, just from looking at it. He was still clinging to her, until he regained some balance and stumbled back. He watched the way she flipped her hair, wondering what it’d be like to run his fingers through it. He normally left her hair alone, even during sex, because he felt like she would just get mad if he tried to touch it. She really liked her image, after all. But he loved the way it felt when her fingers were tangled in his hair, even pulling on it, and he wondered if it’d feel good at all for Chardonnay? But, then again, he usually liked it when she left marks on his back or tugged him harshly. Maybe he was just a masochist... he started giggling at that thought and even more when she said she’d kick his ass if he knocked her over.

”If I’m gonna be labeled as drunk, then you’re gonna be kinky. Buuuuuuut, that’s kinda hot.” He said, between more giggles, bringing up one of his hands to his lips. Of course that was probably the last thing on her mind right now but to Arthur, drunk off of his rocker, all he was thinking about was her. Sure, he was making sexual comments, but all he really wanted to do was lean into her and kiss her, and kiss her until he felt like she wasn’t going anywhere, and then fall asleep and feel happy she wasn’t dead. He wanted to wake up with her beside him, like he did every weekend. He wanted her face to be the first thing he saw in the morning and the last thing he thought about before he slept.

He stumbled forward when she tugged on him and almost fell on his face. To regain balance he reached forward and wrapped an arm around Chardonnay’s waist. The room wasn’t much different than it was the last time Chardonnay was here. He still had the same sheets on his bed, the same amount of cleanliness. The only difference were the new curtains, which matched the living room set. He glanced around his room before he saw Chardonnay in front of him, giving him an irritated look. He leaned forward and stole a kiss from her, so quick it was barely a peck. He grinned at her. ”What’s the stuff on your cheeks? Is that... s’that what you put on my neck? To hide stuff?”

Arthur pouted in response to her. For some reason he hoped that she would giggle too when he kissed her, like she had the time the two of them had gotten drunk together at the party. He didn’t remember that much about it, especially not now. But he was aware he felt very similar to how he felt right now. Hyped up on the feeling of being with someone he wanted to touch. He wondered if Chardonnay remembered what it was like at the party. He wished she’d kissed him back instead of telling her he couldn’t just spring kisses on her whenever he wanted. He liked to kiss her. He didn’t get why he couldn’t just kiss her. They didn’t have to have sex. He just wanted to kiss her. He huffed in response. He had bene proud of himself, but now Chardonnay was just making him feel bad! But he didn’t want to feel bad right now!

”But I like kissing you.” He huffed. Damnit! He thought that would totally win her over! But instead she was moving towards his bed and brushing aside his sheets. He watched her as she did it and felt like he’d be too lonely in the bed if she wasn’t there. It wouldn’t be warm. He blinked when she told him to change, but instead, her suggestion sounded better. Dragging... his lip turned up into a grin as he stepped towards the bed. And then he reached over and grabbed Chardonnay’s arm and tugged her into his bed with him, flopping into the little divot she’d made for him. When he got her onto his bed he leaned forward and brushed her cheek – almost like he was trying to take her foundation off, except his touch was too gentle for that to happen. He missed seeing those little dots that lined her cheeks and nose, they were cute. When he woke up before her in the morning and she was facing him, he could count them all. They got darker around her nose, and faded out in color the more they moved away from her cheeks. He’d always wondered why she covered them up. He only saw them when they started sleeping together – he never caught her in school with them exposed. Not even when he met her, when she got all covered in dirt and twigs, did she ever let her freckles show. Huh... weird. He remembered the dinner, when her parents had mentioned her freckles... something about hating them was brought up, wasn't it?

”Why d'you hate your freckles?” He asked. "They're like... polka dots."

Now that he had gotten Chardonnay under him on his bed he burst out into more laughter, glad he hadn’t drunkenly knocked her off or onto the floor instead. He didn’t exactly have that much control of what he was doing, after all! He tilted his head to the side as she yelled at him, got annoyed with him, though his concentration wasn’t focused on the words themselves. He was more mesmerized with the way her lips moved, the way they shone in the light with whatever gloss or lipstick she had on. Why couldn’t she kiss him when he was drunk? That was all he wanted. She didn’t have to put him to bed – he wasn’t even tired! He’d only followed because he wanted to this to her – totally from the beginning!

He was laughing so much he leaned into his shoulder to block the sound and expression. Was she always this angry with him? Probably. He laughed at her response, too, and he didn’t even care that she’d grabbed his wrist to stop him from touching her. He didn’t get why she hid them, and his laughter died. He grinned down at her for a second before he gave up straddling her and flopped down beside her, scrunching his nose up.

”I don’t got a problem. You’re the one who’s puttin’ me to bed. ‘M not even tired! You just got here. But you’re just gonna go back home because we’re not havin’ sex and I’m gonna be all alone again.” He complained with a frown. He reached a finger out and poked Chardonnay’s cheek with the wrist she wasn’t restraining, the giggling back rather quickly. ”but I like the dots. ‘S cute. I remember where they all are... I think...”

He moved his finger, trying to poke all of the spots he remembered her freckles being, muttering tiny ”there”’s as he touched skin. One on the side of her cheek... one near her nose, one on her nose, one by her mouth... he just liked the feeling of her skin underneath his fingertip, and he’d keep trying to remember where the dots were hiding underneath the foundation until she grabbed his hand and forced him to stop.

When she said she wasn’t going to leave, Arthur stared back over at her, unsure. She said she wasn’t going to leave but he didn’t really buy it. He was conscious of her hand wrapped around his wrist, and looked at it, then over at her. Her notion to follow her was actually one he hadn’t considered, but he knew he’d do just that! Probably. He wasn’t so naïve that he’d ever get behind the wheel of a car while intoxicated, but he would certainly try to get in her car. Or try to, even when she drove away. Or just pout on the side of the road until she left. Because when she left, it’d just be him in his apartment, too drunk. Maybe he could watch an anime while buzzed – that might be fun – but still. He’d had his hopes up for Chardonnay to come and he’d almost thought she wouldn’t. That she’d be dead.

Her response to him, though, made him furrow his brows. It was almost like, with the things she was saying, that she cared. He snorted at the thought. ”You wouldn’t visit me in the hospital,” He said, as response, because he was positive she wouldn’t. She would just laugh at him for being stupid and then maybe she’d care if he died or not. She probably would feel guilty but if he died she wouldn’t buy an Ouija board to talk to him. She’d be thankful he was out of her hair. Or would she? Maybe she would care. Maybe she would miss him. The thought made the smile come back onto his face even as she yelled at him for poking her face. She was so animated when she was angry, when she was moving, when she was doing anything, even sleeping. Even the slightest movements.

When she moved to get out of bed he followed her, tugged along by his wrist. He sat up and stared at her.

”S’wrong with touchin’ you? I just want to...s’all.” Arthur asked. He wanted to kiss her again – her face was so close to his – and maybe he would have, if he didn’t hiccup and then raise his free hand to cover his mouth in case it was a burp. When it didn’t turn out to be one he started to giggle to himself, his cheeks growing pinker. He threw his free arm over one of her shoulder, keeping her close but not dragging her down with him again. He still could imagine what it would be like if she had never come to his apartment at all, though. If she’d just never shown up and he finished the entire bottle of wine. She wouldn’t be there yelling at him and getting mad but she was so he just smiled lazily up at her. ”Eeeeeeverything irritates you though. Especially me, but you still screw me,” He giggled again at that, his fingers on her shoulder gently drumming the skin. He wished she would just let him kiss her... ”s’weird that somethin’ about yourself irritates you. But why, what’d they ever do to you?”

Her response to his statement made Arthur tilt his head to the side slightly. Why would she say that? Her line was something like, ‘of course not’, or ‘just go the fuck to sleep’ or something like that. It made him wonder even more about what she meant by that. Was she really mad at him for telling her what she’d think at any given time? Or was she just mad he’d assume something about her, even though he liked to think he knew her pretty well, well enough to understand she’d not care. Maybe she didn’t like him putting words into her mouth. His smile continued to stretch. Yup. That was it – he didn’t expect her to care. She trusted him and let him be there for her, but she didn’t care about him.

So in response to what she said he just giggled out a ”sorry, okaaaaay” and tried to picture what she’d look like if she did show up in his hospital room. She’d probably be looking just as annoyed as she did now, maybe tell him off because he was being stupid and she was suddenly telling him not to touch her, but why would he be touching her in a hospital bed? That wasn’t hot at all! But, then, he came back to reality. He was in his bed with Chardonnay in front of him, trying to get him to stop touching her and trying to kiss her when all he wanted to do was that. ”m not sick. Not gonna throw up.” He assured her, or tried to, anyway. And he wasn’t! He definitely didn’t feel like puking! He definitely was not thinking about puking when she was right in front of him, leaning into his touch even though she was so against him touching her. And even in his drunken state of mind Arthur was smart enough to figure out that this was how he was going to get what he wanted! He didn’t pull her into him again or try for a kiss. Instead, he started to let his fingers drum on her shoulder, brushing the fabric of her shirt. There was warmth coming from underneath it. He wished he could touch her bare skin, but he knew she wouldn’t let him if he made any moves to get his hand underneath her shirt.

But then just as quick as he had his revolutionary idea, she reached up and pinned down his fingers. He didn’t really like that – he wanted to keep drumming his fingers along her shoulder, but he’d settle for the feeling of her hand against his. It felt nice, and he flipped his wrist around and slipped his fingers between hers. Ha. She could only restrain him by touching him, thus, giving him what he wanted. He felt satisfied and not even Chardonnay’s frown could kill his vibe at the moment.

”But I like it when you irritate me, and I like it when you screw me, Princess,” He said, his tone bordering flirtatious. He definitely would not have the confidence or gall to say that when he was sober, especially not while looking right into her eyes with a lazy grin on his face. He wasn’t happy about the hatred against her freckles... he liked seeing them. He wanted to see them more. He wanted to wake up and see them there. Maybe he should start a boycott of foundation, then? But he didn’t buy any! Except that one time when he bought a bottle for Susan for Christmas. Or was it her birthday? Fuck if he knew. Anyway, he already didn’t buy foundation, so his boycott was a success. Now all he had to do was wait until they stopped selling it and then Chardonnay wouldn’t wear it around him. The idea of her being insecure over her freckles never occurred to Arthur. Her, insecure? Sure, she probably had her moments where she doubted things in her life, but she was so confident for the entire time he’d known her. He wondered if she’d ever hated herself. He wondered if she’d ever wanted to die, or wished she hadn’t been born. He couldn’t imagine it. He couldn’t imagine it and the very idea of thinking that made him begin to feel nauseous so he didn’t focus on it. Not over her freckles... she wouldn’t hate herself because of her cute little freckles. ”mmmm nooope, nope, 'm not tired. N’ I didn’t text you because I was sleepy. D’you wanna finish the wine instead?”

Hmm... so she was going to bring the trash can out here? That was okay, Arthur guessed, but he didn’t want her to leave. He felt like she was just going to get in her car and drive away when she left. If he didn’t have his hands on her she’d seize the opportunity to go out on the road again, where she could die because it was really late. This was when all the drunk people were trying to get home. She was more likely to die if she went on the road right now, statistically. He was sure of it. He squeezed her hand even though she wasn’t keen on him holding it – he didn’t get why – and looked at her face as it flushed. It was kind of pretty, watching the red color spread from her neck up to her cheeks and ears. However he found himself drawn to her neck, wanting to kiss that. But then she’d get really mad and shove him off, probably, and he definitely didn’t want that!

”S’wrong with it? ‘F I let go, you’re just gonna leave.” He said. He had to do something to keep her off of the road. He had to. He wanted to pull her down onto the bed again but he knew she wasn’t going to curl up beside him like she usually did. He blinked, his eyes feeling oddly heavy for a second, as he remembered what it was like to just slowly fall asleep with her right there. She was probably already asleep, her chest rising and falling with breaths, and he could watch her for a few seconds as consciousness slowly left him. See, that was what he wanted, that was when he’d be able to sleep again! When she rolled her eyes he giggled again, especially when she brought up how he moaned in bed. He couldn’t help it! But the topic of conversation made him blush, even drunk, but he was more bothered by her hand in his, trying to get free. He pouted, looked at her hand, and then looked over at Chardonnay. ”Do you hate me thaaaaat much?” He slurred out, his fingers loosening around hers. If she wanted to get free, maybe she definitely wouldn’t stay and curl up in bed. His last bet at getting her to stay was giving her the rest of the wine... the rest of the wine...

”S’my sister’s... she left it here, on New Years’...” Arthur said. He then let his grip on Chardonnay’s hand fall, but he swung his legs over the bed, getting himself up out of it despite the efforts to keep him in the bed. He stumbled on his feet, and had the ground always been so wobbly? He hoped he didn’t have to call his landlord about it tomorrow. Though her question about what he might have done had she never showed up made him pause and his back was to her as he tried to regain his balance and clutched one hand to his forehead. ”F you didn’t show up you’d be dead,” He said, and what would he have done? Would he have finished the whole bottle and giggled and slung himself over his couch until he fell asleep on it, and then woke up to a news report about a car that had crashed because he had no doubt that Chardonnay would make the news. The reporters would say what a pity it was she’d died. She was so young. No, what was he thinking about? If Chardonnay could read his mind she’d think he was so stupid. ”stop, m’ not stupid.” He said, addressed to her but mostly to his own stupid overreacting brain. He didn’t normally worry about cars. But for some reason when she was way too late to be normal, he just... ”sssss, just, you can finish the wine, I don’t need any, s’ I’m fine, s’ you’re here.”

So it was too late for her to go? That reassured Arthur, even if she was just saying that. He didn’t want her to go. He wanted her to stay here and spend the night. Even if she wouldn’t sleep with him, she could spend the night. He’d slept at her place before without sex happening! When she started to ask something Arthur tilted his head to the side in confusion, as though mesmerized by what she might say, but then she changed the subject and much like her, he moved on quickly. When she admitted she didn’t hate him his grin spread wider, his teeth showing, as he hummed softly. ”you don’t hate me,” he repeated, the latter part of her sentence seemingly lost on him. That thought made him feel brighter, and he wanted to kiss her and almost did so, except instead of reaching over to kiss her he wound up stumbling to the side and catching himself on his wall, feeling the cool surface underneath his outstretched fingertips. But even though he stumbled he didn’t care, because Chardonnay wasn’t dead and she said she didn’t hate him. He still thought maybe she did, maybe she only tolerated him, and hearing the reassurance that he wasn’t hated just made his mood lighten! He watched with fascination as she bent over and got off her shoes and tights. He wondered how she got those tights on or why she’d put them on when coming here. Was it cold outside? Maybe, maybe it was... he remembered a few times, when she had come to his company in tights, he always had the worst time trying to get them off. If they weren’t thick, he usually almost ripped the material until she corrected his hand motions or removed the tights herself. He decided he liked seeing her legs exposed more, though, especially when her skirt was still slightly hitched and she was still stepping out of the material.

He laughed again when she shoved the trashcan into him and he fumbled to grab it, fingering the sides, peering into it. It was mostly empty, except for a gum wrapper curled up at the bottom. He stared into the dark abyss for a second, he wasn’t sick! Chardonnay was silly to think that he was going to need this. He scoffed and kept it only because it had been a gift from Chardonnay. Kind of. He followed her to his living room, his eyes scanning the room and the warm colors he was used to seeing. He giggled at her comment, too – the only alcohol he wanted to touch right now was her. Hadn’t her parents even named her after the drink? That was pretty funny, he again thought! Proud of his joke, he kept giggling until he flopped onto the couch beside her, placing the trash can on the other side of the arm rest. As he thought she took the wine and drank some, but wasn’t impressed. Her comment just made him laugh more though and he leaned closer to her, resting his chin on her shoulder to her his mouth closer to her ear.

”Yeah, I think Chardonnay tastes waaaaaaaay better,” He whispered lowly, going off of the joke he’d made in his head earlier. He slid one of his arms around the back of the couch, to rest on her waist and travel a little closer to her thigh, a contrast to his relatively innocent touches earlier. He’d actually never drank chardonnay, though he couldn't deny that ever since he started fooling around with her he grew a little curious. His sister had had it before, and she said it was sweet and one of her favorite wines, but ironically enough she hadn’t brought any to him before. Maybe he should go to a bar sometime and order some chardonnay some time just for shits and giggles. Or he could kiss Chardonnay down her body, until his face was between her legs again, and just do that. He hummed to himself in thought. He wouldn’t mind either option, really, but neither one seemed like it was going to be happening. He would have pouted if he thought Chardonnay might change her mind about letting him touch her more. He didn’t notice her eyes roaming the family pictures strewn about the room, still lost in the scent of her hair. It was kind of like a forest, if the forest was made of coconuts and vanilla, anyway. ”but you didn’t leave. You’re not leavin’.” Arthur said in response to her. And, if she wanted to hold all of this against him – so what! He didn’t care! He giggled and nuzzled a little more into her neck. ”m not stupid. I wouldn’t kill myself.... over somethin’ stupid. I am not thaaaaaat drunk,” he again, insisted, ”maaaaaybe I’m tipsy. My sister’s waaaaaaaaay worse than me,” he stared at her profile from the odd angle he was at now, and the lazy grin returned. ”I will do aaaaaanything you want next time when 'm not tipsy. Promise.”

She said his name again, and even though her tone was meant to warn him, it only made him giggly more, especially when he felt her hand on top of his to prevent him from moving. He wanted to keep moving his hand lower but he stopped, and just kept his chin and arms where they were, leaning on her. Her skin was so warm, he was comfortable, and he felt his eyelids growing heavier as he stayed in this comfortable position. He liked it when she said his name, he liked the way it sounded coming out of her mouth even though she usually preferred to call him Ass or Jackass. Hearing that made him feel more comfortable, especially when she didn’t shove him off and just kind of accepted the cuddly position he wanted to be in.

”S’my name,” He giggled out, and when she sneered at her reaction to his joke he didn’t seem that put-off by it. In fact, her next comment just made him smile even though it meant he wasn’t getting any. And, really, right now he didn’t want to have sex. He just wanted excuses to touch her and play with various body parts, like her hands, fingers, and cheeks. He was happy even though Chardonnay was clearly exasperated with him. ”I knoooooow, but I want you,” he said, though he didn’t move to take his hand away from her thigh or his head from her shoulder. Even if he didn’t get to taste her lips or anything tonight he could still just be comfortable on her, leaning against her, as he finally started to feel heavy from his long day. Prior to texting Chardonnay he’d been out on his feet for hours. ”I remember the party. S’the first time I got to kiss you,” he broke to giggle again as she shifted her shoulder, oblivious to how his chin digging into her skin felt to her. ”n I wanted to do it again eeeever since.”

He made a scrunched up face at the memory of his sister being drunk, the times that she’d laughed and been intelligible coming to mind. They all blurred together though, and all he really remembered was that he always took care of her. And like him, she was more affectionate when she drank. She liked to hug and cuddle and dance around the living room like an idiot. But the circumstances were definitely different, because in Arthur’s case he had a woman he was regularly sleeping with right beside him – taking care of him though he didn’t know why she cared to – someone who he definitely wanted to touch much less innocently than he usually touched people while drunk. He’d have to wait though, because she wasn’t having any of his shit right now, even though he could tell his hands on her skin got a reaction from her.

When he head was pushed back by the wine glass he giggled at the cool feeling against his skin, though he would have preferred it to be her hand, like she’d done to him earlier. ”I don’t have an ass chin! That’d be gross,” He informed her, though he met her eyes when she called him weird. He didn’t really care right now if she thought he was weird or silly or gross or lame. He was too happy to care that she might feel anything negative towards him. One thing that did get a positive reaction from her was when he promised he’d do whatever she wanted when he was sober. And in his intoxicated frame of mind, Arthur found nothing wrong with telling her that. ”Yeah, anything you want! But there’s a catch... you have to give me a kiss to seal the deal.”

He rose his eyebrows over at her. All he wanted was one kiss! Just one kiss wouldn’t make her angry. And then he’d be content to snooze right here, with her wine glass on his forehead... or maybe, if she let him, he could lie down on her lap. That sounded more pleasurable, and he could feel his head beginning to grow heavier as he pushed against the cool wine glass in her hand.

Arthur just grinned in response to what she said about her having an effect on him. And she was right --she did have an effect on him! He couldn’t explain it back then, and he certainly couldn’t explain it now. But here he was, with the spoiled princess he’d gotten lost in the woods with that one time, drunk and trying to convince her to kiss him. When she puffed out her chest he stared at it for a few seconds, before he slowly let his eyes pan back up to hers, remembering how they’d hated each other so strongly. But now all he wanted to do was kiss her! And she continued to not let that happen. He didn’t get it. He just wanted a kiss!

”Everyone’s chin has bones,” He said, continuously leaning forward as he felt the wine glass begin to engrave in his forehead. He didn’t mind much until she took the glass away and replaced it with her hand, smacking his forehead, creating a loud slapping noise. He wanted to laugh at it but the feeling of her hand slapping the front of his head made him groan. It felt like that jostled his brain, and made a throb start to begin. He didn’t like the throb. It was the same kind of throb he got when he was exhausted and he felt his determination for getting Chardonnay to kiss him starting to fade. Maybe... maybe he could just get her to kiss him when his head didn’t hurt. He squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds, feeling a sense of vertigo overtake him. It made him nauseous so he opened his eyes again and focused them on Chardonnay’s, getting lost in them for a second.

What did she say? He didn’t remember... she was saying something to him but it was falling on deaf ears. His vision blurred as her lips moved to say words. He heard ‘bed’... he heard ‘I’ll help’... he heard ‘toilet’. But the correlation between the words was lost on him. He didn’t need help on the toilet! And his bed was certainly not a toilet. He opened his mouth to speak and all that came out was gargle. He closed his mouth after the attempt and forced himself to focus on Chardonnay.

”Can you stay s’with me?” he asked. He only registered half of her words, maybe less than, but there was something definite in her tone. Something in her tone was done with him, with his bull crap and he didn’t like it. He didn’t want her to be done and drive in the dark. Not when he could still so clearly remember the images he’d gotten in his mind of her car smashed against a tree, on fire, leaving her suffocating inside. He groaned again and tried to sit up, taking weight off of her hand pressed to his forehead as he clutched the arm rest, arm trembling. He knew she wouldn’t want to be with him if she thought he was going to try anything on her, so as more incentive to get her to stay, to just stay, he grumbled, ”you’s.... my bed. ‘M fine on the couch. M’tired...”