“For the last time, Nicole, no!”
Cordelia froze as the words that had slipped out of her mouth registered in her mind. Fuck. How the hell will she get out of this one?
The sound of a plate falling and shattering onto the floor echoed through the room. Cordelia felt mindfucked.
“What the hell did you just call me?”
Cordelia slowly turned around to face Charlotte. Her hip was popped to one side, her arms crossed over her chest and a definite twitching of her eye.
“Hm? I don’t think I’m hearing an answer, ‘Delia,” Charlotte said pointedly.
Thinking fast, Cordelia rushed to say, “Oh Char, I’m so sorry. I called you her name because I associate her with stress and I’m so stressed right now! There was this bitch at work today and I could barely handle her,” Cordelia said. Charlotte arched her eyebrow quizzically which is why Cordelia hurried to add, “You never stress me out though, which is why it feels foreign to say your beautiful name when I feel stressed.”
Cordelia fidgeted on the inside, hoping her made up excuse would work. She smiled and mentally high-fived herself as Charlotte relaxed her badass doctor’s glare that made even Whizzer cower.
“It’s okay, ‘Delia. Mistakes happen. Just try not to do that again.” Charlotte smiled, advancing towards a blushing Cordelia, and wrapped her arms around her waist. She kissed the speechless blonde chastely, entangling her fingers into Cordelia’s curly blonde locks.
“I just don’t want to hear that bitches’ foul name come from your lips again. Don’t get me wrong, anything sounds beautiful coming from your mouth, but she hurt you so badly and… sorry for rambling, but I just really hate her,” Charlotte said.
Cordelia smiled sympathetically, trying to mask the guilt she was then struck with. “Sorry for upsetting you,” Cordelia said genuinely. “But just know that I’d never correlate you with stress, baby.”
Charlotte smiled and pulled Cordelia back down to kiss her.
“Only a lesbian could think of that,” Whizzer said when Cordelia told him how she had gotten out of calling Charlotte the wrong name over a glass of wine.
“Well, you’re not wrong,” Cordelia shrugged, taking a sip of her wine. “But how do you get out of it if you call Marvin the wrong name?”
Whizzer snorted, swirling his wine around in his glass. “Oh come on, ‘Delia, I thought you knew me better than this.”
At Cordelia’s blank stare, he continued.
“Well, I typically don’t have any names to remember. I was blackout drunk most nights, so remembering the names the day after were near impossible. And it was only until Marvin that I really got into the domestic life.”
Cordelia rolled her eyes, muttering “boys” under her breath. “Okay, well then, what happened when you said the wrong name during meaningless screwing?”
That struck Whizzer thoughtful. “Well,” he said, thinking. “Nothing really. Like I said, I mainly only fucked when I was borderline blackout drunk; the guy who was screwing me either didn’t care or just didn’t notice.”
Again, Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Boys are so meaningless.”
Whizzer shrugged, tipping back his glass of wine to drink.
“At least I don’t call my partner the wrong name and lie about it,” he shot back.
“Oh come on, you have to admit that I found a great way to get out of it, especially right on spot.”
Whizzer laughed. “Hey,” he defended, “I never said it wasn’t.”