"You better not think I'll watch some stupid romance movie," he groaned as he sat down on the far left end of the couch while you took the right one, not wanting to make him regret his decision already.
"Fine," you laughed while you threw the remote over to him. It wasn't that important which movie was running in the background; you mainly wanted to spend time with him, and you had a slightly different plan for the evening either way. Nonetheless, it was funny to watch how Ghost snatched the remote from the couch as if he feared that you would change your mind.
"James Bond, really?" You teased, rolling your eyes at Ghost as the movie he had picked out started to play.
"Uncultured prick," he huffed, taking a sip from the bottle of whiskey he had brought with him. It was necessary for him to be able to tolerate you for the whole evening.
"What, are you a James Bond fangirl?"
"I'm not a fangirl-" He stopped explaining himself, realizing that you only wanted to provoke him. That seemed to be your favorite thing to do. It was true; he was a big James Bond fan, and he already regretted picking that movie. He really should have let you choose.
"Another disrespectful word or look, and I swear to God I'll go back to my room." He threatened, shooting you a dirty look.
You just held your hands up with a grin, signaling to him that you were done talking shit about his interests for now. In a way, you found it really cute that he was a James Bond fan; it was nice to find out more about him and what he liked. For a whole ten minutes, you managed to sit still and not say anything before you began eyeing the bottle in his hand more often, not knowing if it was a good idea to ask him if he wanted to share or if that would result in your spending the rest of the evening alone on the couch.
But Ghost took that decision away from you because he could almost feel your gaze on him, and he did not like it.
"Here," he mumbled as he handed the bottle over to you.
"I didn't expect Mr. Grumpy to share his booze with me."
You took a sip, making yourself comfortable in your corner of the couch, before you handed the bottle back to him.
"Don't make me regret being nice to you," he grumbled, questioning if he should deliberately wipe over the mouth of the bottle with his hoodie because your lips had touched it, just to piss you off.
The whiskey and his company made a warm and fuzzy feeling spread in your stomach. Making you comfortable. Making you bold. You slid a little lower on the couch, your feet getting closer to his body. Ghost saw what you were doing, could see that your feet were soon dangerously close to his thigh, but he didn't even try to stop you. He knew that any scolding words would only motivate you to do more shit, and he wasn't sure if he had the nerves to deal with that tonight.
In the second your father had left the house, Ghost had rushed to his room, changing into sweatpants and a hoodie. He really regretted that as he felt your foot slide over the fabric of his pants, your eyes still on the TV as if you were oblivious to what you were doing to him. His body tensed up as your foot slid higher and higher until it was resting just inches away from his crotch.
Your eyes were focused on the TV while you acted like the movie was the most interesting piece of media you had ever seen. Ghost was doing the same, and you couldn't help but grin whenever he tried to shift in his seat, because every time he moved, you just slid your foot a bit further toward the bulge that started to form in his pants. After a while, you decided to break the silence between you two as you cleared your throat, gesturing towards the bottle in his hand.
