Happy Merry Everything (Charlie Barber)

Saturday Night pt. 1

Before diving into the story, I wanted to say thank you to each and every one of you who like each chapter, follow me, and continuously offer support as I've been working hard to get these out. My gratitude and love for you all is endless.

MILD TRIGGER WARNING:

This chapter features mentions and use of a recreational substance.

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You watched as Charlie looked himself over in the mirror, lint roller in hand as he inspected his sweater. The last time he put this much care into his outfit was the night he met your parents. You came closer, stood beside him and lifted up on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. He glanced over at your reflection, a shy smile appearing on his countenance as he set the lint roller on top of the dresser.

"You look wonderful," you said, smirking. "...and you smell nice too." Charlie huffed out a laugh. "Yeah?" he asked, moving out of your way so you could get what you needed. "The woman I love picked out my cologne," he replied, lovingly draping his arms around your middle and resting his head on your shoulder. "Oh she did, did she?" You asked, your arms coming to cover the tops of Charlie's. "Mmhmm. Like it?"

"I love it," you murmured, turning your head and hoping Charlie would meet you halfway for a kiss. You were grateful he was happy to oblige. "Should we head out soon?" Despite your current closeness, he wanted more. Charlie bent down to plant featherlight kisses against the side of your neck. "Probably. Tonight's going to be a little different."

"Why's that?" he asked. You turned in his arms, deciding the conversation was best had face to face.

"I had a couple of ideas," you started. "You can absolutely say no to any of them; it's ultimately your choice."

"Alright, let's hear 'em."

"Well, for starters, we always have a dress rehearsal before the live taping. We run through the entire show just as if it were live, right down to the host monologue and musical guest. It's when we cut the sketches that don't work in order to make the program fit the time constraints for the network."

Charlie's head bobbed in agreement, his fingers still interlocked on the small of your back. "I remember you telling me about this."

"Okay, so you could sit in on the dress rehearsal and then we could all leave or--you could watch the live show."

You had to stifle a giggle as you took note of the cogs turning in his mind. It was written all over his face. "Okay."

"If you watched the live show and stayed the whole time, we'd most likely leave when the cast leaves. Once you're in the audience, you're kind of stuck there. Floor or balcony, but especially floor. There are too many moving parts, too many stagehands working to throw up and tear down sets. It's a surprisingly intimate space when it's all done up."

Charlie smiled, cheekily replying. "I remember that too. I have been to visit you before, you know."

You smirked. "I know, but this is different. We could always have you stand in the back with me and Jules. It wouldn't be the most comfortable standing for so long, but we'd have an easier time dipping out when we were all ready to--"

"Shag ass out of there?"

"Exactly," you giggled.

"What if we stayed for the live show, but we only stayed for your skits?" His request was earnest, but he laughed at the face you made all the same.

"I don't know how many of my skits will make it into the actual show until after dress rehearsal."

"How many do you have right now?"
"I think around 3."
"How many do you think will stick?" He leaned in slightly.