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I love ya, doll

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“I’m actually convinced she can’t read!” You blurted out in frustration, drinking again from your overfilled glass. Sonny chuckled.

“I think you had too much to drink.” He reached across the couch for your glass, but you cradled it closely, pouting up at him. He stopped, laughing a little bit more. “Aw, come on, doll. You have to work tomorrow.”

“I don’t care!” You yelled playfully, cuddling your wine closer. You usually didn’t drink wine, but when you had a bad day, by God, you just needed alcohol in your system. A woman you work with had been getting on your nerves. She constantly sent out emails which she hadn’t proof-read to clients and when you tried to correct her spelling of “meet” today (she spelled it “meat”) she called you a bitch. Sonny Carisi, your boyfriend of 2 months, indulged your drunken ranting about this woman’s latest infractions as a random television show blared in the background.

“She can’t fucking spell! And then she gets so upset when anyone tries to help her. She’d just prefer to wallow in blissful ignorance while the rest of us pick up the fucking slack!” You nearly shouted. Sonny smiled sympathetically and stood from his spot next to you and walked towards the kitchen, clearing your plates and placing them in the already full sink. Your apartment wasn’t a total mess, but it wasn’t great. You made excuses that too clean apartments weren’t “homey” enough, but the truth was you were never particularly good at keeping your life clean. Most of the time you were just too lazy to pick anything up. Sonny started to load the dishwasher after surveying the carnage in your kitchen.

You stood to follow him; however, upon standing you realized that the world was not exactly the same as when you were sitting on the couch. Indeed, in this new world of standing everything was spinning. You put down your wine glass as gently as you could under the circumstances and stumbled as gracefully as possible to the kitchen. You watched Sonny at the sink and when he leaned down to put a large plate in the back of the dishwasher, you nearly died. His ass was so perfect under his tight suit pants. Dear God you were lucky. Even more so because of his need to load the dishwasher so meticulously. Ever since you started dating, when you tried to load the dishwasher he would sneak over to it later and re-do it—making excuses in his heavy Staten Island accent, “It’s not you, doll. It’s just if you don’t load it right, the dishes won’t get clean.” Whenever you looked dejected after comments like this, he would snake his arms around you, whispering in your ear, “your talents lie elsewhere.”

Your mind snapped back to the present where your body, unbeknownst to you, decided that the floor on your left was the perfect place to lie down right now. You stuck out your arm and caught yourself on the wall. There was only a small thump from your hand hitting the wall, but it made Sonny turned around, concerned. His concern melted into a patronizing smile at your expression of pure joy and bewilderment. You started to giggle and attempted to straighten up, only making your legs into more of a tangled mess. Sonny laughed before crossing the room in two swift steps and sweeping you up in his arms. He carried you to your bedroom. You giggled the whole way, burying your face into his neck, kissing it lightly.

“Ya really need to stop drinking so much, doll.” He said as he laid you down on top of the duvet. He flicked on the lamp next to your bed.

“I don- drink that much.” You slurred a bit. You reached your hand clumsily up to run your fingers through his hair.

“This is the third time this week.” He reasoned.

“Isss Friday, though.” You mumbled. Then, realizing the truth of the words and your excitement for the weekend, you squealed and sat up to throw your arms around his neck. The one problem with your statement was that it was, in fact, Thursday, not Friday. Sonny really wanted to correct you and reprimand you further, but you were so cute when you were drunk.

He extracted himself from your arms and stood to retrieve the pajamas you had lazily thrown over a chair earlier that day. You watched his butt as he did this, chanting softly to yourself, “butt, butt, butt, butt, butt, butt.” It was so funny to you that you began to giggle uncontrollably. You curled up into to a ball and nearly immediately tumbled off the side of the bed. It wasn’t a hard fall, the carpet caught you and by this point you were feeling no pain, but he rushed to your side to see if you are okay nonetheless. He helped you back onto the bed as you continued to laugh.

“Up,” Sonny said gently, undoing the buttons from your olive colored shirt. You lifted your arms obediently and he pulled your half-unbuttoned shirt off, tossing it aside. His beautiful eyes were starting to make you a little horny. You remember the last time he was inside you, his face flushed with excitement and embarrassment. You leaned forward in your current drunken stupor, kissing him on his mouth. He pulled back, smiling. He unhooked your bra and threw it aside before pulling your t-shirt down over your frame. He unbuttoned your pants, pulling them off in a movement he had used so many times before in moments of passion; however, now the mood was different, far more gentle and caring. He pulled your shorts over your plump ass before covering you with blankets and planting a chaste but loving kiss on your forehead. He moved a trash can next to you before retreating to the kitchen.

He returned after a few moments—or maybe a few years, you weren’t sure— with a glass of water. He wrapped his giant hand around the back of your head, pulling you up just far enough to take a sip. You laugh instead of allowing him to give you water.

“Doll, you need to drink for me.” He said and you complied, trying not to giggle lest you choke on the water slipping down your throat.

“Are ya stayin’?” you asked in a terrible attempt at a Staten Island accent. He laughed.

“Of course.” He said, putting the glass on the bedside table and running his fingers gently through your hair. “I’m gonna go finish the dishes.” He kissed your forehead again and ensured that you were lying on your side.

It was either a minute or eternity before he returned. Regardless of how long had actually passed, it was far too long for your taste. He picked up your clothing and folded it neatly on the dresser. Then he began to undress.

First, his shirt. He unbuttoned all the way down slowly revealing the white tank top underneath. He pulled off the blue shirt completely, folding it. As he folded it, you admire the slight rippling of his muscles. His strong arms, which always made you feel so safe, stood out against the unbelievably sexy tank top. Then he removed his pants, folding them too. His ass was so nicely accented by the black boxer briefs. He turned slightly to see you looking at him and he laughed a little at your thirsty expression.

“Sorry, doll. Not tonight.” He stripped off his undershirt before walking over to the other side of your bed. He slid quickly under your sheets, wrapping himself around your curled up form. You brought his arm over you and snuggled it tightly. It took only a moment for you to fall asleep. Or two years.



The next morning, you woke with a throbbing headache. It was 4:30 in the morning. You stumbled to the bathroom and vomited into the toilet. Oh God. You thought. I’ve never been this drunk around Sonny. Oh shit, oh shit. He doesn’t even know I fart, now he knows I vomit. Dear God, I’m sucking the romance out of this relationship. You shook your head, trying to clear it of the hangover fog. You only succeeded in making yourself feel dizzier. You rinsed your mouth, looked at yourself in the mirror and nearly died. You looked like a disheveled raccoon. Your eye makeup from last night was smeared all the way down your face. You quickly brushed your teeth to removed the vomit stink. You then stumbled to the kitchen for a long overdue chug of water.

As you did this, you heard stirring from the bed room. You hurried back into the bathroom and locked the door.

Sonny called your name groggily.

“Yes?” You replied as soberly as possible.

“Are ya alright?” He asked, knocking on the bathroom door.

“Mmmhmmm” You hum-yelled back as you quickly wiped the remaining make up from your face. Just as you are about to answer the door, you start to feel nauseous again. Fuck. You think. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. He’s right outside the door! But this was not a time for thinking, you threw up the toilet seat cover and vomited as quietly as possible.

He knocked gently again. “Are ya sure, doll? Do you need water?” His concern was so evident. You straightened up as quickly as possible and brushed your teeth again before unlocking the door and smiling at him.

“I’m completely fine, please let’s just go back to bed. It’s so early.” You tried to have your same bouncy enthusiasm you’d been faking for the past 2 months. But your tone was betrayed by your face.

He put his hand on top of your head and ran it down to cup your face. He smiled. “Come on.” Without much warning he picks you up and carries you back into the bed. He pulls you into his arms and the two of you fall back to sleep.

The next time you woke an hour later and you had to run to the bathroom this time. He gave chase and you couldn’t lock the door on him this time. Fuck. You thought in sad resignation as the humiliation of normal bodily processes came crashing over you. What almost made it worse was Sonny stroking your back gently and pulling your hair back. “Shhh…” he whispered. 

Thankfully, this round made you feel so much better. As you finished you quickly flushed the toilet and turned away from him. You brushed your teeth and Sonny stood behind you, his hand still hadn’t left your back.

He tried to lead you back to bed, but you couldn’t look him in the eyes, your feelings of embarrassment are so great. Sonny laid down and patted the bed, beckoning you to lie down with him. You stayed back by the door.

“Doll, it’s 5:30 in the mornin’. What are you doing?”

“I’m going to take a shower.” You rushed out as quickly as possible. You turned on the water and stood under the warm stream. It made you feel, if not good, much, much better. You didn’t hear Sonny approach until he pulled back the shower curtain just enough to step in behind you. He wrapped his arms around you and kissed your cheek from behind. You were still embarrassed, but his arms felt so nice.

“Look at me.” He whispered. You turned around and looked up into his blue eyes, which were gazing back at you with such compassion and understanding.

“I’m so gross.” You buried your face in your hands.

“No. Never.” He pulled you close and kissed the top of your head. “You’re beautiful.” He held you for a few moments before laughing a little bit. “You’re really cute when your drunk.”

This coaxed a smile from you. “You’re really cute when I’m drunk too.” You replied. He laughed at that.

“And what am I when you aren’t drunk?”

“Perfect.” You whispered, completely seriously but also mostly to yourself.

“Just wait until you see me drunk.” He laughed.

“Oh yeah?” You said pushing back to look up at him.

“You’d best get ready.” He said, leaning down and kissing you lightly on your lips. Everything about him made you feel so safe and so understood. His lips almost made your throbbing headache melt away. You were safe, secure and happy in his arms.

It was too bad that safety would not last.