eat me, drink me | gabriel&erika
@gabexchapman
One hand clasped around the wine glass and the other lazily scratching the orange kitten behind the ear. She was sitting on the floor in Gabriel’s kitchen and surprisingly enough, she wasn’t as restless. Perhaps it was the red wine, it was her third glass, or the heat of the oven. Or the cat, that she secretly called Vincent, when Gabriel who had trouble giving him a name couldn’t hear it. She settled for all three after a while. It seemed rather redundant to find an answer to something that wasn’t a problem. Her brain didn’t always agree though. Logic seemed good in practice, but throughout the years Erika had developed her own kind of logic. It mainly consisted of crazy (and justified everything she ever did). She wasn’t nearly as crazy today. It was a mellow day. A no pants day. But then again, that could’ve easily been the wine too. All she knew was that she had slept through most of the day after Gabriel left to continue his process of setting up a studio in Boston. And then she had showered and accidentally fallen asleep on the bed again. It was usually how she did things anyway, forgetting to sleep or prioritizing other things over it until her body eventually had to catch up. She didn’t mind a lazy day after all.
Her phone lit up, the sound of ducks quacking echoing in the room and she grunted with disapproval when she was forced out of her comfortable position. Erika managed to get off the floor without spilling a drop of wine, placing the glass on the counter before she attended to the lasagna in the oven. God, she was so domestic. It was such a small gesture, making dinner, but she felt angelic. Maybe because she didn’t usually cook for people. Boredom strangely suited her sometimes. She determined that it needed to be in for a bit longer and stole a cherry tomato from the salad she had made. Red went well with red though her lips were probably stained purple by now. “What’s the deal here, Vinny? Do I have to wear pants?” Her gaze fell down to the cat stroking across her bare legs. She crinkled her nose as she thought it through before dismissing the silly thought. It was just her and him, plus the little fella keeping her company at the moment. Comfort was much better than pretending to be fancier than she was. She had made dinner and set the table, that in itself was a triumph. She managed to finish her third glass of wine with a delightful ease before she heard the lock in the door click.
A strange excitement flourished inside. It wasn’t because of the wine, but rather because she had never done anything that came remotely close to this. Sure, it was only dinner, but it was a monumental step for Erika. She practically rushed out of the kitchen to greet him, running her hands through her messy curls to attempt to maintain them. “Okay, okay... so,” hands gestured wildly as she came to a halt, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and a smile tethered to her lips. “You’re gonna laugh or assume something but it’s nothing, okay? Well, it’s not nothing, but it’s nothing!” Words stumbled out her mouth so fast that she had to catch a breath before she continued. “I was just bored and I thought I could do something nice because I am nice... sometimes. Okay, I’m nice to you. That has to count for something, right? Yeah. Yeah. Whatever, it does,” she waved the silly thought off and continued her word vomit, “ANYWAY - it’s just dinner. I mean, you could probably smell something, but yeah. I don’t know why I felt the need to explain it? Wait, yes I do. Because it’s weirdly domestic... actually when I think about it, it’s not ‘cause it’s just dinner? It’s food. How can that be domestic? We have to eat. Yeah. It’s just dinner and hopefully it taste good. And hopefully you like lasagna. Maybe I should’ve called and asked before? Should I have done that? What’s the protocol on these things?” She came to a stop, brows furrowed together in a small frown as she looked up at him. Maybe she had let too much crazy out.