Work Text:
Okay, so, it was a weeknight, you could admit that. Because it was irrefutably a weeknight. And yes, maybe you did have work in the morning, and yes, maybe you didn’t get enough sleep the night before. Here was the thing; you didn’t care.
While grocery shopping you had spotted several one-pint green apple flavored alcohol and bought two of them. The original plan had been to drink one tonight with dinner, and then save the other one for later in the week, preferably on a Friday or Saturday like a responsible adult. That plan had gone out the window when you finished the first one and just really wanted the second one.
Your booze to food ratio was off, because you were definitely feeling it. You sat on your bed, watching a mid-2000s sitcom that had ended disappointingly, looking over at the two now empty bottles and trying to remember all the water you had drank that day and how much food you ate.
The slow calculations in your brain eventually equated to ‘who cares, I’m drunk,’ as you picked up your phone, going through your contacts. A hum escaped you as you scrolled, but it wasn’t a song that was coming from your lips, just one long note that made your throat tickle in a way that made you dissolve into giggles.
It took you a moment, but you pulled yourself together and went back to looking at the contacts on your phone, scrolling up and down randomly, deciding that you’d text the first person you blindly clicked on.
Mid-scroll you tapped your phone, and the one contact you never thought would come up but you were secretly hoping would. Bo Sinclair. That son of a bitch.
Bo Sinclair was a co-worker that had ended up crashing your big end of summer bash the year before. You didn’t know much about him except that he was a slut. At the party, he had ogled every woman there in a bathing suit and drank most of the beer. You had gotten his number after he broke a standing speaker of yours, and the two of you had settle how he would pay for it.
You had resented him for a long time, but it wasn’t because he broke your speaker. It was because he was cute - hot even. He had a cute drawl and a shit eating grin that just made you want to giggle like a schoolgirl. He was also an asshole. Most of the things that you had heard about him had been about how many people he’d slept with at work.
Well, according to the game with the rules you’d just made up, you had to text him. You’d clicked on his contact, after all.
‘Remember my address? Come over. Garage code is 0145 enter.’ You sent, tossing your phone on the other end of the bed.
You relaxed for all of six seconds before realizing that, wait, you had just ordered a booty call.
Bolting out of bed, you ran to the bathroom and checked out your reflection. The sight actually made you sad in your drunken state. You pulled a comb through your hair and fixed yourself up as best as you could before realizing you were in an oversized shirt that had multiple miscellaneous food stains on it.
“Oh, crap.” You ran to your closet, peeling off your familiar pajamas and standing naked in your closet, trying to figure out what would be appropriate. Lingerie? No, that would look like you were trying too hard. Matching pj set? No, you’d look like a Hallmark character.
You settled on sleep shorts and a graphic t. Kind of cute but not too staged.
Heading back to the bed, you picked up your phone to see that Bo had said he was coming over.
“Oh my god.” You squeaked as you put your face in your hands, which highlighted the fact that your breath reeked.
Rushing to the sink, you swished mouthwash as fast and as thoroughly as possible before putting a too-big glob of toothpaste on your toothbrush, brushing as fast as you could.
Bo was coming over. He was really coming over. Bo the hoe, as was chanted when he went down the slip ‘n slide at the summer party. Handsome, horrible Bo. This was beginning to feel like a mistake.
Spitting out the foamy spit, you wiped off your face and rushed back to the bed.
You started stacking the pillows so you could face the tv on your side in a way which best highlighted the curve of your hips, when you heard a cough from the doorway.
You turned to see Bo, leaning on the doorway and grinning, looking at you mid-stage.
All you could do was stare at him for a minute, the only sound between the two of you being the laugh track from the sitcom and the hum of the air conditioner.
“That was fast.” You finally managed.
Bo chuckled, crossing his arms. “I live about five minutes away. ‘S how I crashed the summer party.”
“Oh.” You pushed your pillows off the bed, turning back to him. “Well, you’re here, let’s do sex.”
He snorted, pushing off the frame and closing the door behind him. “That’s how you want to word it?”
“Put your penis in me, then.” You spread your arms, widening your eyes in a ‘well, come on’ way.
Bo burst out laughing, cutting off the laughter by slapping his hand over his mouth. He looked away for a minute before looking back at you, the laughter starting behind his hand all over again.
“What?” You challenged, lying back on the bed with your legs spread. “Put your penis in me and move around, bruh.” Even you started laughing by the time you were done with that sentence. You put your hands over your mouth, your entire body curling up as you giggled over your own phrasing.
He held back his laughter long enough to saunter over to the bed, kneeling down beside your feet. “Is that how you always start sex?”
“Yes, actually.” You sat up, the room momentarily spinning from your transition from horizontal to vertical. “Hoh. I-. Hoh. Spinny. It is better to try to initiate sex with a joke.”
Chuckling and looking you up and down, Bo put his hand on the small of your back to stop you from swaying in place too much. “Why’s that?”
“Because!” You put up your hands, index fingers extended as if you were a youtuber discussing a conspiracy theory. “It is better to start with a joke, because when you get rejected, it isn’t as embarrassing as if you tried to, like, hard core seduce someone, you know?”
“I do not know, and I can not relate.” Bo straightened, tucking a hand under you knees and the other behind your back, lifting you and moving you up the bed until your back was against the headboard. “Explain your thought process.”
“Okay, Bo – by the way that name is too short – if you showed up here and I was in sexy underwear and you told me you weren’t feeling it, I would be the douche who put all their cards on the table to get rejected.” You rambled as Bo picked up a few pillows off the floor, tossing them at you. “When I say some ridiculous shit like ‘put your penis in me,’ it’s like I don’t even care you know, this night could go however.” You shoved the pillows behind your back, resting the back of your head on the top of the headboard. “Like, ‘I wasn’t actually asking but since you took it seriously, sure we can have sex.’ Besides, you’re a flirt, and nothing means anything anyway, so have sex with me!”
Bo sat next to you, sitting on the bed with his shoes on. That would have bothered you if you were sober, but unfortunately for your linens, you were not.
“Okay, how often are ya getting rejected to have this system of yours?” He asked, resting his hands behind his head.
You crossed your arms, looking at the TV. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
He smirked to himself, looking to the TV as well. “Pretty thing like you should never get rejected for sex.”
“Then put your penis in me.” You tried to keep a straight face but giggled, rolling over to your side opposite Bo.
He laughed, grabbing your arm and pulling you back to sitting. “No, no. You’re in so state of bein’. Just sit up right now.”
You sighed, resting your head on his shoulder. “But I want to lie down.” You mumbled, feeling your eyes trying to close without your permission.
Bo glanced over at you, taking your hand and giving it a light squeeze. “You can sleep there, so long as you’re upright.”
You hummed slightly, letting your eyes close. “M’kay.”
“Night.” Bo mumbled, watching the rise and fall of your chest as you slipped out of consciousness.
Surprisingly, he wasn’t that disappointed that he wouldn’t be having sex tonight. You looked pretty cute when you weren’t barking orders like you did at work. And if he just happened to fall asleep against you, well then, you’d have no choice but to talk to him in the morning. Maybe then he could take this chance to get to know you just a bit. You seemed pretty fun.