Insanity x2 (A Trevor Philips Story)

34: Pasta and Wine

It was five thirty. The Tiramisu was complete, waiting in the fridge to be eaten, and the fettuccine was minutes away from being complete. The sauce was nice, rich, but not too heavy. The chicken was grilled to perfection, still holding the moist interior whilst having that nice, grilled texture and flavor. I felt like Chef Gordon Ramsay would look at my fine work, and would appreciate the level of effort and work I had executed. That, or he'd call me an idiot sandwich. Either way.

"Trev, is the living room clean? Did you change into your bowling shirt?"

He groaned from his spot in front of the television. "A fat fuck like Michael won't notice if the place is sloppy. And it's okay if I look sloppy, too." 

I giggled before I ran into the living room, tackling him as he sat at the couch, surprising him. He started laughing as he grabbed me and threw me down onto the cushions, taking control as he started tickling me. "Fine, fine!" I gasped in between giggles. "Fine!" I gently pushed him off of me and kissed him as he chuckled and gave me a quick slap on the ass, which I gave him a playful glare for before going to my pasta dish. I strained the noodles, al dente and not mush, and placed it inside the sauce. I put the dish in a large serving bowl, which I placed in the center of the table along with a basket of bread sticks I had hastily made during the cooking process to tie together my Italian meal. 

After I cleaned all of the pots and pans I had used, and placed my apron in the cabinet where it belonged, the doorbell rang. "Coming!" I shouted as I quickly washed my hands. I swung the door open to find Michael and Franklin waiting, and flashed them a genuine smile. "Hey! Dinner just finished cooking. Come in!" I moved to the side for them to walk in. 

"Smells great!" Michael commented.

"Yeah, I agree," Franklin piped up.

"Thank you!" I cheerily spoke. "Hope you like Italian."

Michael flashed me a joking look. "Oh, I think Italian will do." I grinned back at him. Trevor walked in wearing his blue bowling shirt and black pants. 

"Wow, babe, smells delicious!" He commented as he took a seat at the table. Michael and Franklin looked surprised at all of the effort I had made for dinner. I sat next to Trevor, across from Franklin, and smiled at his compliment.

"Thanks, Trev." 

"I take it you're feeling better?" Michael asked as I started to serve everyone a plate. 

I hesitated before responding. "Oh, yeah, definitely." 

Once everyone was served a portion, and their wine glasses were full, I sat down at my plate and took a bite. Everyone did. 

They let out moans of appreciation. "This is amazing," Franklin spoke as he took another bite.

"That's why I keep her around," Trevor joked. I elbowed him in the rib.

"So, The Big One," I spoke after a few bites of food.

"Oh," Michael spoke, swallowing his bite. "We decided tonight isn't a good time to talk about it, but we're interested to know how you're doing. And if you're in on it."

"I would love to, but I'm going to sit out on this one," I spoke. I reached for a bread stick, and Michael let out what I could only interpret was a yelp of surprise.

"Is that a ring?"

My eyes widened as Franklin's head snapped up as well, Trevor's eyes were also on me with a smirk. 

"Fuck yeah it is," Trevor spoke. "Proposed today."

"You? Proposing?" Michael questioned with a chuckle. "Wow, never thought I'd see the day."

"Hey!" Trevor barked. "Fuck you, man. I didn't want to just walk into a strip club and find the first hoochie mama on a pole like you did."

"Aye, shut up you two," Franklin spoke, stopping the heated argument before it could get worse. "Lucy made y'all this nice dinner, and y'all are ruining it."

"I'm sorry," Michael sighed. "My bad. I made the first comment. Sorry, Lucy."

"Hey," I spoke with a shrug. "As long as it didn't escalate, I'm fine." I smiled. "Thanks, Frank."

"You got it." 

Michael took a sip of the wine after a bite of fettuccine. "Man, this pairs well. You know your wine. When're you going to see a Doctor about your head?"

"I have an appointment in two days," I spoke. Trevor tensed next to me, but I tried not to call attention to it. "Anyone want seconds?"

--

Dinner went well. We drank, we ate, and after we killed two bottles of wine, I whipped out the Tiramisu. It was a big hit, and there were no leftovers for the pasta or the dessert. My dinner party went successfully, Trevor and Michael spoke of old memories, Franklin and I told our own classic stories from before we met Trevor or Michael, and we all laughed and enjoyed ourselves. The night went on until two AM, when Michael checked the time and realized he had to get home. 

All in all, the dinner brought us all closer together, and I was glad to make that happen. If I did die, I need Trevor to have people to lean on for support. After they left, Trevor handed me a Pisswasser, and we continued drinking until we slurred. 

"Babe, let's get married tomorrow," Trevor spoke. "Let's drive to Las Venturas. Get hitched."

I snickered, leaning my head against his shoulder. "I don't want to go back home, Trevor, but I'll do it for you."

Trevor smiled, pulling me into a kiss before we both slumped on the bed, falling asleep without uttering another word.