dowhatisays | IC Contact

Yeah, but then I'll still be a teenager, and you won't be. Weird, right?

[Fine, fine, he can share.]

It's your birthday. I'm trying to celebrate. You always tell me to loosen up. This counts as loosening up.

Yeah, just never thought it would actually work.

[Once he's done, he pulls Meyer in by his hips, fingers curling into the loops of his jeans.]

You look good tonight.

Yeah, well, don't get used to it. Special birthday situation, or whatever.

[Protests aside, that doesn't mean he's not letting himself get tugged over there, and it also doesn't mean that he's not grinning like an idiot at the compliment.]

Even though I'm not wearing a stupid sparkly outfit?

That would've made it better than good.

[C'mere, let him kiss your dumb face. On the nose. Because you're dumb.]

Let's go, I want another drink.

Okay, yeah, another drink sounds good.

[Or like a really bad choice, but birthdays are for making bad choices, right? He has to concentrate on walking in a straight line out of the bathroom, but he thinks he's doing a pretty good job. Maybe. It's kind of hard to tell.]

[Luckily Charlie has more experience with heavy drugs. He's near bouncing as they leave the bathroom, drugs and booze and excitement all whirring around in his head. He gets them both a beer, and walks back to their table, greeting friends and getting hugs and high-fives as he goes. Maybe one or two kisses. Just a few. He at least looks at Meyer a little bashfully after those.]

[Get all the kisses you want, Charlie. He doesn't particularly care. He's in a good mood -- although not nearly as bouncy as Charlie, jeez, that's just ridiculous -- so he just laughs a little at that bashful look Charlie's giving him and collapses back into his seat at their table.

And that's pretty much when he starts remembering why he loves drugs so much, because all of a sudden, everything seems like a good idea. Things like drinking his beer as fast as he possibly can. And like hauling Charlie in for a big, intense, demonstrative kiss.]

[Charlie stumbles at that, half landing in Meyer's lap and laughing through it all. He kisses Meyer back, as best he can between laughter.]

Jeeze, Meyer, who says I'm that kinda guy.

Oh, well, I guess if you're not that kinda guy, I don't have to do it.

[He's still keeping Charlie here for another kiss, though. And maybe it's easy to see now why the last time he'd gotten arrested, coke had been involved, because he's in way too good of a mood right now.]

[His good mood is infectious, and Charlie can't help but want to stick around, staying seated on his lap and kissing him through the laughter.]

Too late, you started it.

Well, in that case...

[People're probably staring at them. Normally, he'd care. Right now, he's not even thinking about it, not consciously, at least. It's pretty hard to kiss him when he's laughing this hard, though. Just give him a chance to catch his breath.]

Speaking of looking good tonight, you look pretty good tonight. But you probably already know that.

You haven't even seen the glitter yet, man.

[Just guess where it is, Meyer.]

I refuse to believe that you actually have glitter. You're bullshitting me.

[Actually, it's relatively believable that he's not. That's exactly the kind of thing Charlie would do.]

Guess you'll never know then, man.

[As much as he likes your lap, Meyer, he can't reach his beer like this and his back is to the strippers. So he's going back to his seat, grinning up a storm all the way.]

I'm pretty sure that if you do have glitter, you're going to show me sooner or later. You couldn't resist.

[Aw, Charlie's abandoned his lap. He feels a little sad about it. Maybe that's why he's gesturing to one of the strippers and saying the next thing that pops into his mind...]

I bet I could strip better than that.

You think you can do everything better, man.

[What are you thinking, Meyer...]

That's because I can do everything better. I'm just a talented guy, what can I say?

[He's not thinking of anything. Really. This big stupid grin on his face might signal otherwise, though.]

If you're so good at it, how come I've never seen it, huh?

You've seen me take off my clothes before. Millions of times.

[But not exactly as a performance, that's true.]

Taking clothes off ain't the same as stripping, come on.

[He feels warm and comfortable now. Everything bright and wonderful, and he rests his hand on the small of Meyer's back, nudging up his t-shirt to find bare skin.]

Yeah, well, it's not that different. I mean, it's the difference between taking clothes off and taking clothes off to music. And slightly more slowly.

[He's not protesting that hand, though. It feels good. Everything feels pretty good.]

Hey, man. A little respect. It's an art form. Like, dancing a shit.

[Meyer isn't protesting which means he gets to add his fingernails, just gently scratching at his skin.]

I can dance. I'm entirely capable of dancing. I'm a great dancer.

[Yep. He's good at everything. And enjoying those scratches, too.]

Still reckon I would have seen you do it by now.

Do you want to see me do it?

[He has a point to prove here, after all.]

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