The Middleman | ongoing

11 | you're not my baby sister

11 | you're not my baby sister

Song: Hot Mess by Cobra Starship

Depicted Above: Ray Wise as Marty Peters

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"I didn't know you were a hookerrrr," I slurred. I was currently using Carter as a crutch to support my body.

The moment he heard this, Carter was taken aback. How I could tell? Well, my whole body fell on the floor.

Thump.

Second time during the course of the night.

Turns out you didn't need to be on the football field to be on your way to a concussion. Being drunk as hell at the club worked just as fine, too.

"Fuck you, Carter." My head throbbed from that fall and so did the rest of my body. While I wanted to get up, the floor was starting to feel rather comfy. I extended my arm in the air, my middle finger greeting Carter to show him exactly how I felt about being dropped.

Two hands swooped down to my waist, and I was soon steadied up in Carter's arms. I tried to stand on my own two feet, but with my blood alcohol content that was out of the question.

The moment I tried to steady myself, I lost vertigo and stumbled around. I was like those fucking inflatable tube guys flailing around at a car dealership. A hot mess. Basically.

And undeniably.

Breaking the silence as I finally maintained some sort of balance, Quinn curiously asked me with a signature smirk, "Why the fuck did you think I was a hooker?"

"Don't pretend you're not, Carter Quinn. I can put two and two together. Morpheus said and I quote, 'I've heard nothing but praises from those recommending your services.' Andddddd he said he wanted to finish laterr. If you catch my drift." I winked to emphasize my point.

I then proceeded to raise my eyebrows multiple times suggestively. I got lost in the action though as my drunken self was in awe at how I could control the muscles on my forehead.

"Is this black magic...?" I mumbled and wondered out loud with one hand on the creases of my forehead feeling the movement of my skin as I twitched my eyebrows up.

I was interrupted in my thoughts with a laughing Carter. His deep sexy voice continued to chuckle in amusement as he entertained the idea of him being a male prostitute. "You... t-thought... I was... a hooker?" Laughter interrupted just about that whole sentence, but in my dazed drunken state I still knew what he was saying.

"Yup," I absentmindedly but truthfully replied popping the 'p'.

Carter finished up his round of laughter, and he shook his head. A grin was plastered on his face, and he continued after regaining breath, "That's cute that you think my sex is so good I could make money off it."

I frowned and scoured my mind for a quick-witted insult. Something. Something.

Anything. Goddammit.

I was not gonna let alcohol slow me down like this. I had a reputation to uphold. Even in my drunken state.

"Even if you were a hooker. And you were successful with the career. It would only be because your customers took one look at you and pitied your pathetic lame ass. Pity sex. That's what. They'd pay you because they felt so bad," I spit out with a slur occasionally while jabbing his hard as a rock chest with my index finger, hoping my reply would be up to par with my usual sober epigrams.