everything's fucked// james cook

part 28: gannet

The party was in full swing: Poppy was dancing on my dining room table, a bottle of vodka in her hands while Ollie and JJ cheered, Cook was busy making a disgusting cocktail out of all the liquor in my house, and Nick and Katie were having a competition to see how many shots they could each take before they got alcohol poisoning. 

"James, whatcha making?" I said, walking into the kitchen and sneaking my hands around his waist, my head on his shoulder. 

"Something I'm going to dare your mate Nick to drink," he said, grinning evilly. 

I let out a small laugh, then looked over to Nick and Katie, who were stumbling around, holding on to each other for support, and laughing uncontrollably. 

"Yeah, I think he would actually die if he drank that," I said into Cook's neck. 

"Yeah, sort of the point, princess," he said.

I snatched the cup out of his hand, looking into the muddy-colored liquid and gagging at the smell of it. 

"Do I want to know what's in this?" I asked, but shook my head before Cook could answer. "Nevermind."

I gulped, and threw back my head back, chugging the cocktail in one go. 

"Fuck, Cookie!" I said, shaking my head, my throat on fire.

"Jesus, Vi," he said. "You should not have fucking done that."

I felt the alcohol rush into my system, and smiled, as Cook spun me around, caging me against the counter with his arms. 

"Kiss me, please," I said, tracing a finger down Cook's cheek.

He chuckled. 

"You're so fucking drunk, love," he said.

"Nope, nope, nope," I said, giggling.

"Fucking hell," he said, shaking his head. "Your breath smells like shit."

I breathe in his face, laughing as he pulls away with a face of disgust. 

"You smell like shit," I said, pouting. "You should drink up, Cookie, I'm way ahead of you."

"Yeah, yeah, I could, but who's gonna be there to take care of you when pass out?"

"Nicky!" I said. 

"Yeah, so I'm definitely not drinking," he said.

Thirty minutes later, I was on top of the table with Poppy, shotgunning beer as everyone else cheered, except for Cook. He stood next to the table frowning. 

I knelt down and smiled at him. 

"Cookie, you're being a fucking party pooper," I said.

"Princess," he said seriously. 

"Get up on the fucking table right now, or else," I said, pouting. 

"Or else what, babes? What are you," he motions up and down at me with his hand, "gonna do about it?"

I smirked, and leaned forward to whisper into his ear. 

"I think you know," I said. 

"You fucking couldn't do it," he said, looking smug.

"Yeah,  I don't think I'm the one who'll have a problem with that, babes," I said, snickering. 

He shook his head, and reached out his hand.

"Help me up, you muppet," he said. 

"That's new," I said, grabbing his hand and pulling him up, handing him a beer after I did.