heaven-with-mark ยท 2 years ago
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"๐™™๐™ง๐™ช๐™ฃ๐™  ๐™˜๐™ค๐™ข๐™ฅ๐™š๐™ฉ๐™ž๐™ฉ๐™ž๐™ค๐™ฃ."
The now empty Truly can slams against the counter, tinny and empty. "Better get drinkin, Eef!" You yell, triumphant and two seltzers ahead of your opponent. Mark looks a tad disappointed, back against the counter and arms crossed. You and Ethan sat at the island on barstools, having a competition to see who could drink more before getting shitfaced.
Ethan was lagging behind. You were feeling tipsy yourself but he was getting a little woozy. The way his body would tip to one side until he noticed and righted himself told you a lot. Mark cleared his throat, and both you and Ethan turned to look at him. Your smile dropped the moment the empty Truly box left the olders' hand and tumbled to the floor. "Automatic win." He says, nodding towards you.
The smile returns as you slide from your seat, a little stumble to your step as you saunter up to the fridge. Out comes an unopened twelve pack of Coors, your least favorite alcohol. "You hate beer." Mark comments, pushing himself off the counter to stand at the island. You slide it to Ethan and stand next to Mark as the drinks are opened. Ethan passes you a Coors and next thing you know, you've had five.
"Uh. Fuck." You giggle, swaying in the middle of the kitchen. Ethan was... laying on the floor next to you. Hands over his eyes, face flushed, stupid drunk smile. Mark now sat at the island, chin in the palm of his hand. He found you and Ethan amusing to watch.
Until now. Your stomach churned, your heart sinking. You were absolutely terrified to puke. It was a childhood fear for no real reason. "Mark," you whispered, hands out to steady your rocking, "Mark I think I'm gonna throw up."
He'd known you long enough to understand why it was a problem. He sighs, "alright. Fun over. You're both cut off." Ethan cries, but you don't catch whatever he said. You're no longer a happy drunk, you're scared to move in fear of emptying your stomach. Mark is gentle in the way he presses a hand to your back, slowly guiding you over to the couch. Some animated movie plays and you're barely aware of it as you're helped into laying down.
"Mark, I need water. I'm gonna go get water." You slur, and immediately sit up. Your head hits the couch pillow a second later, feeling like you'll upchuck if you try to do a single thing. "I'll get you water, just chill for a second." Mark murmurs, smoothing the hair stuck to your forehead. Your heavy eyes shut, and you buzz in and out of consciousness as you vaguely hear Ethan get ushered down the hall to his room.
When Mark returns, it's with water and blankets. He hands you the drink first, keeping a hand on the cup as yours cradles it just to make sure it doesn't spill all over. "Are you okay now?" He asks softly, setting your beverage down on the coffee table. You're only now aware of being in tears, very disorientated and drunk. He's leaning over you, using the back of the couch to brace himself. Unable to think right, your hands come up and do the grabby hand motion.
After some very slurred convincing, the footrest of all three couch cushions are kicked out so Mark can squeeze onto the couch behind you. You're warm, content, and very tired now watching whatever movie played on TV, Mark pressed to your back and holding you close. Still both in jeans and not in comfortable clothes, you're comfy how you are. And scared if you move, it'll break the peaceful atmosphere.
"I hope you know I'm not dealing with your hangover." Mark whispers, patting your hip. You giggle and turn in his arms, face shoved to his chest. Unashamed you take in the scent of his cologne, listening to the rumble of his chuckle. "Alright Tipsy, go to sleep." He says, and your mind shuts off almost immediately. Tomorrow was gonna be one hell of a day full of headache and nausea but Mark was gonna help you, even though he said he wouldn't. He's got a little bit of a soft spot for you.
"At least I beat Ethan. Momma ain't raise no quitter." You slur, having to have the last word.
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