Hello Daddy... (CHARMIE)

Ch3

He'd expected something fancy, but what he hadn't expected was for the car to literally pull up in front of the fucking Palace Hotel, and he just sat there and stared at it for a good two minutes before he realized he was, like, supposed to get out of the car and go inside, and he fumbled himself and his bags out and managed to thank the driver, and then he just stood there, because holy fuck. This was so much nicer than he'd imagined where he was going would be, and this was weirdly surreal and fucked up and somehow his feet were just not going to move because he was suddenly very aware that he was wearing clothes that probably looked awful compared to everyone else and he was carrying basically everything he owned in two bags and now he had to go into the fanciest fucking hotel in all of New York and just pretend like he belonged there.

Yeah, cool, that wasn't anxiety inducing at all.

And of course, the longer he stood out there the more the doorman just stared at him, so he finally huffed out a sigh and went towards the doors and the doorman didn't even comment on what he looked like, just opened the door and called him sir and wished him a good evening and it was really fucking surreal, and when he got to the front desk and nervously pulled out the piece of paper Armie had given him, he stumbled over his words telling the concierge that he was checking in under "Armand Hammer" but no one really noticed and they gave him his key and directions to his room and he was wandering through huge hallways with paintings that probably cost a million dollars or some shit before finally making it to his room and opening the door and jesus christ it was.....so much nicer than he was anticipating.

He walked in cautiously, still kind of half sure he was going to be axe murdered, or something, but the room was empty, the bed so incredibly tempting that he just dropped his bags on the floor, shucked off his sweater and jeans, and crawled right on top of it, almost whimpering at how soft it was because fuck it was like a literal cloud, and he rolled around under the blankets for a few moments just to revel in the fact that he could spread his arms and legs out all the way without falling off the bed, and then just laid on his back and stared at the ceiling, because of all the ways he'd pictured his life going when he woke up this morning, this was not one of them.

This was also the only time drunk Timmy had ever made a choice that ended in something this fucking great happening, so he was definitely going to have to get drunk and make decisions more often. (No, he thought about ten seconds later, remembering the time he and Ansel had thought that drunk sledding off the roof of a frat house was a good idea, drunk Timmy needed to actually stop making decisions.)

He'd already closed his eyes by the time he remembered he was supposed to call Armie, and he groaned a little, dragging himself out of his blanket nest to rummage through his pants pocket until he found the piece of paper with Armie's number on it, and then he just stared at it, chewing his lower lip. He wasn't sure why he was suddenly so hesitant about this, about calling him and letting him know he was in the hotel room and not dead or hadn't run away or something or chickened out, but the semi-absurdity of the situation finally hit him: he was literally staying in the fucking Palace Hotel in a room someone else was paying for and acknowledging that doing so was the beginning of him being this person's sugar baby, and wow, maybe drunk Timmy didn't make such good decisions after all, because suddenly this seemed less like a good situation and more of a what the fuck did I get myself into situation. Blowing out a breath, Timmy ran one hand through his hair, tugging on the ends as he thought.

He'd wanted to do this. It had been, really, the only viable option he'd seen left for himself, other than maybe stripping, and he was horribly uncoordinated, so he wouldn't have made much money as a stripper. Plus, this way he was in a possible sexual relationship (although, again, who the fuck was he kidding? With the way Armie looked, he was willing to bet that the hypothetical part of 'possible sexual relationship' wasn't going to last long) and had someone who would look out for him and maybe give a shit about him, and that was the biggest appeal.