Golden Gobes Confession
RPF
Warnings: Drinking, Drunk Confessions
Characters: Timothee Chalamet, Reader
Word Count:1,520
You sat alone in your living room in your small LA apartment. You’d worked a double but you made it home in time to get into your pajamas and tune into the Golden Globes to watch your friend, Timothee stroll the red carpet. He’d been nominated and you were so proud of him.
You’d known Timothee a few years. He’d moved next door to you in the old apartment building in 2021. You’d become quick friends and that friendship stuck even with his growing success. You’d hang out every time he was in LA and even though he moved you’d text several times throughout the week.
When the camera panned to the crowd seated in the award ceremony your heart dropped just a little seeing Timothee with Kylie. Sure it wasn’t real. He dropped the ball and let it slip to you that it was PR. He made you swear not to tell a soul and of course, you didn’t. Still it made your heart ache, every kiss and loving caresses, every long gaze.
Your crush on Timothee only kept growing no matter how many times you told yourself he would never. You weren’t his type. He was way out of your league. None of it helped. You had an instant crush on him the second he knocked on your door and handed you the mail that was mistakenly put into his mailbox.
The show ended around ten and you sent him a text message telling him you still think he should have won even though you knew he was partying at the after parties.
It was nearly midnight when the knocking on the door started. You put your phone down and walked over to the door cautiously. “Who is it?”
“It’s Tim!”
“Tim?” You open the door quickly. Timothee was standing in front of you in his black suit and dark curls. “What are you doing here?! You’re supposed to be across the city-”
“I- I know.” He told you, walking into your apartment.
You shut the door and saw him looking erratic. “Timmy, are you okay?” You walked to him, placing your hand on his arms.
“I needed to talk to you.” He turned to face you.
You saw his eyes were glassy. “Tim, are you drunk?”
“No,” He waved his hand. “I mean, I’ve had a few drinks but I’m not drunk, a little buzzed, maybe.”He shook his head. “I just- I was sitting there waiting for them to call the winner and when they didn’t call me name I was-”
“Oh, Tim.” You rubbed his arm. “I’m so sorry. I really thought-”
“No,” He waved you off but still looked at you. “I’m not worried about not winning, that’s not what this is.” He walked away then turned back to you. “I- was sitting there and when I lost, I felt Kylie grab my hand and I realized she wasn't the one I wanted to be there.” You looked at him confused. “If I win or if I lose, it’s not her I want holding my hand or hugging me.”
“Tim, then tell your PR team that you want out.” You tell him bluntly. “Tell them you-”
“No!” He says running his hands frustratingly through his hair. “That's not what I’m- Yes I want out but,” Her turns back to you and looks at you for a second. “It’s not just that I don’t want her, it's anyone else.”
“Then stop letting your team talk you into-”
“You’re not getting it!” He stalks over to you.
His hands are on either side of your face and his lips touch yours. You freeze unsure this was happening. It was soft but firm. It didn’t last long and when he pulled away he just stared at you, still holding your face. You slowly opened your eyes and saw his bright green eyes sparkling into yours.
“How much did you have to drink, Tim?” You whispered out.
“Not even enough to get drunk.” He told you as he leaned back into you, catching your lips into another kiss.
This one was longer, He let his lips linger on yours before letting his hands fall to you back. He backed you up till you hit the wall. One kiss went into another then you felt his tongue swipe your lips.As you gasped at the feeling he lapped into your mouth, taking the chance to taste you.
You pushed his shoulders, breaking the kiss. “Tim, you’re drunk.”
“I’m not.” He tells you, leaning in for another kiss.
But you move away. “I can taste the tequila on you.” You step back.
“Okay, so I had another shot or two on the way.” He grins. “I was nervous.”
“Nervous?” You shake your head. “Timothee, you have a bad habit of doing stupid stuff when you drink or get high.” You saw his shoulders slump. “You should sleep it off. We can talk in the morning.”
“But, I-”
“It’s okay, Timmy.”
He goes after you, tripping over his feet. “I’m not-”
“Tim, you can’t- you didn’t drive here, did you?”
“N- no, I-”
“Good. I’ll tell your driver to go on. You go into the bedroom and crash.” You tell him with a pat to his cheek. “Do you need help?”
“No, I’ll-”
“Okay, go on.” You lead him to the hall.
Timothee looks behind himself in confusion before going to the bedroom and falling onto the bed. You go downstairs and tell the driver, whom you knew well, that Timothee was going to sleep it off at your place and he was free to go. By the time you got back up to your apartment Timothee was asleep, face down on your bed. You carefully pulled his shoes and jacket off of him, careful not to mess up the garments that cost more than your rent.
You pulled the covers over him and crawled into bed next to him. Pushing the curls from his face you breathed deep, inhaling his smell. You pressed a kiss to his forehead and shut off the light.
~~~
Timothee woke the next morning to a pounding in his head. The light shining in from the window made him squint. He groaned as he sat up, feeling like his head was going to roll off his shoulders. He stood, digging into the bottom drawer that held his clothes he always left at your place. He went straight to the bathroom and turned on the shower.
Twenty minutes later, boxer and t-shirt clad, he walked into the kitchen where you had two ibuprofen and a hot cup of coffee waiting on the counter. “You are awesome.” He said as he sat at the small kitchen table, tossing back the pills with a big swallow of coffee.
“Tequila shots back to seek vengeance?” You smile, taking a sip of your own coffee, leaning against the sink.
“Why did I do back to back shots on the way here is beyond me.” He rubbed his head.
“Because you do stupid stuff once you start drinking.” You reminded him.
He nodded, taking another sip of coffee. He watched as you placed your cup down and flipped through your phone as if he didn’t kiss you 12 hours ago.
“You want a bagel?” You asked as you walked across the small kitchen.
“Are you gonna say anything about last night?” He asked instead of answering her question.
“You were drunk, Tim.” She said offhandedly. “Weren’t exactly in your right mind.”
“But it wasn’t just a stupid drunken thing.” He said bluntly. She paused with her hands on the sink. “It wasn’t a-”
“You can't do that, Tim.”
“Do what?”
She can feel him standing behind her now. “You can’t just kiss friends like you did last night and expect them to be as forgiving and forget about it as I am.”
He stands next to you. “I don’t want you to forget about it.”
“Tim, you’re being unfair.” You tell him with that burning feeling in the back of your throat that tells you tears aren’t far.
“How?” He placed his hand on your cheek and turned your face to look at him. “How am I being unfair?”
“You can't just kiss me and go back to how things were before.” You tell him in a whisper. “I can’t do that with you.”
“I don’t want you to.” He tells you as he leans in, pressing his lips to yours.
As he pulls away you open your eyes and look at him. “Did you really confess your feelings in a drunken rant about hating your PRship?”
“I wasn’t drunk when I started off here. It was the tequila shots of liquid courage that sent me over the edge.” He smiled. “I didn’t want to pussy out again.”
“Again?”
“I can’t tell you how many times I've wanted to tell you I liked you but chickened out.”
“You, chicken out?!”
“Yes! Me!” He laughs at your shock.
“And here I am thinking I’m not your type.”
“Baby, you are every bit my type.” He tells you, pulling you into another long kiss.