Summary: Henry shows up at a bar and jerks a girl out of her train of thoughts.
Characters: Tipsy Henry Cavil and Drunk OFC.
Word count: 509
Warnings: A few explicit words and slightly revolting imagery [: some talk about puke].
Author’s Note: This is a one-shot. Non-erotic. This isn’t smut, and I wouldn’t call it fluff. I had an impulse and wanted to see where it went. I enjoyed writing it and I hope it shows! And I also hope that you have a good time reading it. Enjoy!
Masterlist
Photo found here: @supersleepyfangirlthings
The two of them had fooled around a couple of times, although mainly it was just flirting when they randomly saw each other, for example at bars not unlike the one she was at tonight. But it wasn’t nearly enough, at least to her liking. Being the godly saint of a man that he was, she simply could not comply with the idea that he could possibly commit to a monogamous relationship, let alone with someone like her. Rest assured dear reader, she hadn't had that conversation with him. One could hardly say that they were dating, all cards on the table. And lest we forget the swarm of girls constantly in his presence.
Urgh, the stench of them.
If it were more socially accepted to vomit on people, she'd march right up to the flock and spew all over them. If nothing else, then just to drive them away. That would make them leave, wouldn't it? Or are they so hungry for him that they'd endure even that and insist on their continuous flirting?
Maybe he'd be disgusted by them and slide away… But shit, then he'd probably also slide away from me, she thought. Fuck. Maybe he'd laugh at it. Maybe he'd even offer her a mint or gum. That would be nice. Definitely preferable. Not at all plausible. But he is a decent, good-hearted man, remember? If she makes sure to have it look like an accident; passing by casually when puke and revulsion suddenly hits her and—oops! Didn't see you all standing there, haha! Sorry! Not sorry. God, I'm a mess.
“No you're not!”
What? Did she say that out loud?
“Are you alright?” he laughed.
She turns around to look up into his comical face.
“Oh, hi Henry! Yeah, guess I was lost in thought there. Got carried away.”
“It seems you were. Would you like a beer?”
He hands her one of the two he’s holding. How thoughtful of him.
“Thanks so much! It's great to see you.”
“You too! And you look beautiful, no need to worry at all.”
She senses a hand hovering over her lower back. He winks. She blushes, flustered and awkward, mind numb all of a sudden.
“Cheers!” she says, ending the silence.
“Cheers for a fun night!”
“Absolutely!”
Insides churning.
“Alright, I'll pop around and see who else I know here. Catch ya’ later!”
“Sure!” she replies, not entirely sure if he heard it. She hardly had time to blink before he was off again.
I guess it's better that way. Leave me to my thoughts of spewing stomach acid on the crowd.
She tastes something bitter at the back of her throat. Looking at her bottle, she decides it was the source. Faintly picturing the grimace of disgust swept across her face, she shrugs and takes another sip to flush it all down.
Not too shabby.
She chugs the rest before heading to the bar.
How many different words for puke can a hoe come up with? Discharge. Disgorge. Regurgitate. Expel…
