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1:15 am, on a Friday
Philadelphia, PA
Sleep doesn’t come easy to you, and one of the few times it does, it’s interrupted by the infernal ringing of a phone. You were incredibly tempted to let it ring out [normally you would] but one of your five idiot friends calling you could literally be a matter of life and death. So, upon seeing Dee’s caller ID, you begrudgingly picked up.
“Do you know what time it is?”
“Good, you’re awake.”
Her slurring was gratuitous; you already knew what they’d been doing for the past few hours.
“Actually I was soundly asleep—“
“Shuddup, listen, I need you t’come down to the bar.”
“…I’ll say it again: do you know what time it is?”
“I don’t care! Charlie keeps bitchin’ an’ the only way to stop it is to get you here, so get over here!”
Groaning, you rubbed your palm over your face, pinching your eyebrows together.
“What makes you think I’ll make a difference?”
“‘Cuz he’s bitchin’ about you. He’s whining ‘oh- oh [y/n]! Why isn’t [y/n] here I want [y/n]!’ I’ll drag you here myself, bitch.”
There was no point arguing with her, especially not like this. Besides, you absolutely wouldn’t put it past her to come get you herself, and the last thing you want is a drunk Dee crashing through your apartment. Following a despondent whine, you pushed yourself up to sit on the side of your bed.
“Alright fine, but set up a shot for me, got it?”
“Sure, whatever, jus’ hurry up!”
Sometimes you wish you’d given them a fake number.
You never like walking through Philly at this time of night - and certainly not in this part of town - but like hell were you wasting money on a cab, so you braved the crackheads and chilled winds. Hugging your coat closer to you, you just hoped you didn’t run into that rickety cricket guy… maybe you should’ve bothered to change out of pyjamas.
Five minutes from the bar and you got another call. This time it was Mac, and you knew damn well that guy doesn’t take no for an answer - if he’s ringing, he won’t stop.
“What?“
“Where are you? You said you’d be at the bar.”
“Unfortunately I haven’t perfected teleportation yet so I’m walking - my sincerest apologies.”
“Well hurry up! Charlie’s fucking insufferable, if Dennis murders him it’s your fault.”
“Keep your pants on, Roid head, I’m almost there, kay?”
“TAKE IT BACK, I DO NOT TAKE STEROIDS—!”
End call.
You could deal with that later; for now, you’d focus on not getting stabbed to death by a hobo.
Soon enough, you had arrived at Paddy’s. Usually, you’d hang by the door and try to eavesdrop on whatever inane conversation the gang was having, but you were tired and cold and just wanted a shot of kahlua. They were too drunk to notice you when you entered, so they continued to argue. Dee seemed the most ‘put together’ [if you could call her that…], followed by Mac and Charlie who were arguing about something pointless. Dennis [while conscious] looked like he was drifting through dimensions, and Frank was out cold at the end of the bar.
“I’m telling you man!” Charlie yelled, pointing accusingly at Mac. “They’re planning something!”
“They’re rats, Charlie.” Dennis interjected, barely with it enough to keep his eyes open.
“ Exactly - big, sneaky fuckin’ rats! Never trust a rat, they got some fuckin’ scheme or something, dude.”
Hardly a surprising subject matter. You’ve long since learned not to expect normalcy from these degenerates. A quick scan of the bar top showed no shot, and you scrunched up your nose.
“Hey, where’s that drink I was promised?”
“You hung up on me!! I want you to say that steroid shit to my face— “
“ [y/n]! ”
Charlie’s brazen enthusiasm startled you in your fatigued state. Immediately, he stumbled from his bar stool and crashed into you, almost knocking you over despite his shorter stature. The man locked his arms around you and nuzzled his face into your chest, making you really wish you put on real clothes instead of going no-bra in your pyjamas. He absolutely reeked of beer and cheese - his usual scent, but amplified by a million times and a little less bearable when he was so close to you. Unsure what to do with your hands, you placed them stiffly on his back, glancing at the rest of the group for help.
They were happy to sit back and let baby have his bottle.
With no signs of him moving on his own, you cleared your throat.
“You, uh… wanna ease up there, dude?”
“No way… missed you.”
You hated that you blushed when he spoke against your skin; in vain, you tried to gently pull him away from you, but he was stuck like glue. It was like you were a soldier returning from the war, and he was your loyal wife welcoming you home, afraid you’d be shipped off again if he ever let go.
“See what I was talkin’ about?” Dee complained, clumsily pouring your shot and smacking it on the bar for you. “So clingy.”
“I’m starting to think [y/n]’s DENNIS’d Charlie.”
“Everyone shut up , it’s too early for this.” You groaned and massaged your temples. “Ok, you don’t have to let go, but lemme sit down and drink, alright?”
Arms still securely trapping you, Charlie dragged you to the bar. You expected him to at least let you sit on your own barstool, maybe with his arm still around you to keep close, but you yelped when he sat down and yanked you on top of him. Considering barstools offer no support for two people, it was pretty uncomfortable - you felt like you were eternally slipping off his lap without actually doing so, and you had to put all your weight in your calves so you didn’t crush him. Charlie, on the other hand, seemed perfectly fine; his face pressed between your shoulder blades, hands creeping under the hem of your shirt as he hummed an unknown tune. Nervously, you glanced around at the others to see their reactions, but they barely took note. At most, Dee just pushed your shot closer to you then returned to their conversation.
Man, were you thankful for that shot. It burned nicely when you knocked it back, and the strong coffee taste covered what would otherwise be an overwhelming taste of perfume. It also took your mind off the confused, racing thoughts in your head: why on earth did Charlie want to see you so badly? Why was he so happy to see you? Why did he need to be so close to you? Then again, Dennis always criticised him for being desperate for affection, so maybe since you were easily the nicest to him, he latched onto you for what he craved in his vulnerable state.
“Warm… you’re so warm, ‘n nice…” Charlie slurred, his voice so low you nearly missed it altogether. “Wanna jus’ sit here forever ‘n be warm.”
“Ugh.”
Mac’s groan snapped your attention to him, and you winced at his disgusted face. Though the rest of the gang couldn’t care less about Charlie’s touchiness, he clearly had a distaste for it.
“You guys go take it to a booth or something, I don’t wanna have to look at this shit.”
“Fine, we will! ” Charlie snapped back, his voice cracking in pitch before shooting up and almost launching you off of him. He jolted you towards him so your back was flush with his front again, grabbed his beer and started shuffling towards a booth in the back of the pub. Hasty - you barely had time to neck the second shot Dee set up for you. To your surprise, he released you when you reached the booth and gestured for you to slide in first. Maybe he was trying to be a gentleman? You weren’t sure, you simply complied.
The loss of contact didn’t last long, as instead of slipping in across from you, he slipped in right next to you, snuggling into your side and effectively pinning you between him and the wall. Sure, it was a lot more comfortable, but no less embarrassing.
“What’s up his ass…?” You mumbled to yourself, stealing away his bottle to swig at it [maybe you should’ve grabbed a beer while you had the chance]. Charlie scoffed indignantly.
“I dunno man… he’s a bitch anyway, whatever, jus’ jealous…”
You raised an eyebrow; “Jealous? Why’d he be jealous?”
He grumbled something incoherent as he grabbed his beer back, sloppily knocking back half of it in one go, then piling his weight onto your side. Ok, guess you’ll never know the answer to that.
Charlie huffed, wiggling next to you like he was trying to burrow under your skin - he just wanted to be close, closer than anyone else could get. His hand flopped onto your thigh, squeezing the flesh, before he restlessly hooked it around your waist instead. He kept fidgeting, constantly drawing your attention back to his presence; it was impossible to ignore him now. Part of you figured that was the point.
“…Hey Charlie?”
He hummed, propping his chin up on your shoulder to gaze at you.
“...What’s your deal? I mean, why are you being so touchy?”
In surprise, his eyes widened and he leaned back a bit - like he was shocked you didn’t know the answer to such an obvious question. For a moment, he floundered, making jumbled little noises and glancing around wildly. You swore you could see his little rat brain chugging, trying to piece together a coherent explanation in his drunken haze.
“I… b-because I like you!”
You must’ve looked ridiculous as you froze, bracing your hand on the table to steady yourself when all the blood rushed to your cheeks.
“You… y-y-you like me? As in- as in, like… romantically?” Your stuttering was hard to control the longer Charlie stared at you incredulously. He furrowed his eyebrows.
“Well… yeah ? You’re tellin’ me you didn’t know?”
“I… I-I don’t know?”
“I thought…” He stared at his beer - you’ve never seen him so utterly bewildered before. “But I told you— when we banged in the bathroom??“
You cringed.
“I thought you were just saying that because of the aphrodisiacs!”
“No!” He was getting pitchy and erratic, something that often happened when he got emotional; “I— what?! I can’t- aaaagh!! ”
He grabbed your hand without warning, tugging it to his chest and holding it there.
“Okay okay okay, listen now - I really like you, okay? Like a lot, i-it’s fuckin’ crazy.” He slumped forward, holding on to your hand hard enough to bruise. “You’re nice and fun and you like art n’ shit— you like my art l-like you’re so appreciative n’ you make me wanna make more, y’know? Oh god, I just… [y/n], I like you so fuckin’ bad…”
And suddenly, a lot of things made a lot of sense. Charlie stared at you with a certain taste of desperation and even fear you hadn’t seen from him before. You could only imagine what he was feeling right now - and knowing Charlie, you wondered if he was under the impression up to this point that you two were already in a relationship…
It was a lot to process, too much for you at 2am on a Friday morning. It dredged up some uncomfortable feelings that you’d been suppressing for a while; confusing, nauseous feelings that made your palms sweat and your pulse race. The nausea was always a product of uncertainty and insecurity, but now it was of startling reality, of absolute certainty . You didn’t know how to react, and could you really be blamed for it?
“Charlie… Christ, I don’t know what to say.” You finally responded, unable to look him in the eye and instead choosing to look at your hand placed solemnly over his pounding heart.
“Uh, say ‘Charlie I’m incredibly in love with you, let's kiss and spend our lives together’.”
You pursed your lips - if you were a little drunker, you would’ve giggled and gone along with it, but right now you knew this wasn’t something you wanted to respond to mindlessly, especially not with someone you cared about as much as him.
Even if you did reciprocate his feelings, did you really want a relationship…? Were you actually capable of it? It was something you’ve thought about a lot, especially with the disgusting emotions you’ve been having lately.
The longer you didn’t answer, the further Charlie’s face soured. He opened his mouth to say something - probably an erratic plea - when Dee appeared from nowhere and slammed down another few shots in front of you. Surprisingly, she didn’t say anything, just gave you a very drunk knowing look. You nodded to her as she sauntered away, and slammed two of them in quick succession. God, you must be one hell of a lightweight, because you were already finding it easier to decide.
“Charlie, I think this is something we need to talk about when we’re sober.”
He seemed confused, narrowing his eyes in that way he does, the one you hated to admit you find endearing. You swallowed down the rising blush and tipped over a shot glass to roll it along the tabletop.
“So… I don’t get it is that—?”
“I’m not…” You interjected without thinking - were you sure about this…? Doesn’t matter, the kahlua was deciding now. “…I’m not saying no.”
“…That’s a yes then, right? Y-you wanna go out with me, we’re dating—?”
You pressed your pointer finger to his lips, suppressing the panic his enthusiastic response elicited.
“It’s not a yes either… it’s… look, I gotta think about it dude.” But your finger gently drifted from his lips to tap his chin, tipping the last shot down your throat and setting down the glass with a heavy hand. “You’re cute, though… annoyingly cute.”
You needed to stop running your mouth before you started something you can’t finish.
Once your quiet comment was processed, Charlie’s face softened and he started to grin, like he couldn’t quite believe what you said but shit he wanted to hear it again. In a giddy flurry, he grabbed your cheeks and pushed you up against the end of the booth. Back to the wall, you didn’t even have the chance to react before his mouth was all over you, clumsily - but excitedly - kissing you with everything he had. His eyes were squeezed shut, focusing on channelling all his emotion into this one show of affection, and you felt a little guilty you were too shocked to shut yours.
Admittedly… you enjoyed it. The scruff of his beard against your skin, his rough hands pushing together your cheeks– hell, even his bizarre taste of beer and cheese and… god, probably cat food , was appealing.
Appealing because… well, it was just so Charlie , and that was something you apparently liked.
You had to push him off before he tried to further anything, but you’d confess that it was reluctant. Charlie’s lips were still puckered when his eyes fluttered open again, but it was quickly replaced with a boyish smile, grabbing onto your hand to glide his thumb over your knuckles in a display so gentle it almost hurt. You were having trouble finding the words. I mean, what were you supposed to say after that?
Then again, maybe you didn’t have to say anything. Maybe a smile and another drink was all you needed.