Darling & Commander

The Nymph: 14

Gallaleigha POV:

Everything is teetering and twirling in circles, and I suppose alcohol really is quite a marvelous thing. I clutch onto whom I believe to be Brock, mumbling nonsense my mouth spews.

"Oh, Galla..." He laughs. "How many have you had?"

"Only three!" I whine, yelping when he scoops me up like I weigh a feathers worth.

"Too much for this itty bitty thing..." He seems to have an expression of sarcasm, but I cannot see too clearly.

"Oh, there you are..." I giggle, suddenly hit with knowledge. "Handsome. So very handsome."

A deep rumble of laughter erupts from his chest, and I blink at his suddenly very sharp face.

"W-woah..." I stroke his jawline, confused now. "W-why are you s-so rugged?"

Brock snorts, carrying me out into the car he drove us in.

"A general, remember?" He cocks a brow up.

I think.

"Oh right... commander..." I hiccup, my hands on his jawline disbelievingly. "Owww. It is too... acute."

He bursts out in laughter at my whining when he sets me down in the passengers seat, crawling into the other end.

"Any other complaints, my darling?" He kisses my hand as he pulls out of what I think is the parking lot, although everything is just kind of a dark blob.

I frown when he does not let go of my hand, just clutching it on the center console as he drives carefully.

"Yes." I nod. "You have a regrettable reputation."

He seems to be a bit upset by this.

"Oh? Not good enough for you?" He says quietly, seeming almost sorrowful.

Like he believes it.

"Quite the opposite..." I blabber on. "Too good. People should see more of t-this side of you..."

"I suppose it is only for you." He stares down the road.

"Mmm..." I hum happily, kissing a trail up his arm. "I r-relish the thought of that..."

Brock lets an easy laugh loose, pulling into the street by the castle. He jumps around and escorts me to his room.

"It is a little spinny, commander..." I hiccup.

"I know, darling. We should stay here the night; I have come to terms that being overseas while you remain tipsy should not end well." 

"Urgh... Brock, I am going to retch..."

"Hang on just a little longer, we shall find a restroom soon."

⚔️⚔️⚔️

My head snaps up when I stir, drool in the cracks of my mouth. I take in my surroundings and recognize this to be Brock's washroom.

I feel warmth on my back and immediately recognize it as him; he is still holding back my hair from what I can remember was me purging in the toilet. The memories come back, faint ones of him stroking my head and rubbing my back as I spewed.

The crapulence hits me at once, and I moan, clutching my sides. Brock too rouses, snapping out of a deep snore. His fingers are still wrapped tightly around my hair, and I yelp when he unintentionally yanks it.

"Shoo- sorry darling." Brock kisses the back of my head, gathering my hair into a ponytail and gently tying it. "How are you feeling?"

"Miserable..." I moan. "Do you suppose your scientist friend also has a cure for lingering inebriation?"

"I do not believe so, no..." He emancipates a modest laugh before scooping myself into his arms and picking himself up.

"Oh, Brock, don not ever let me indulge like that again... you were right, I do not concede of the most tolerable gut for liquor." I nuzzle into his arms when he tucks us into his bed.

"I was partially at fault for that. I am afraid I developed a swelled head after all of your flattery and commendations." Brock snorts, stroking my head.

"I do not remember offering you such praise..." I dig through my recollections.

"Oh, yes, if anything, the alcohol ensured you to be quite sure of yourself." He gives me a conceited smirk. "Handsome and rugged, I recall you expressing quite passionately."

The flashbacks rush to me all too quickly correspondent to a splash of cold stream water.

"No..." I whinge. "Tell me I said no such things."

"As a man of honor, I cannot lie." He smiles affectionately at me. "It was adorable. I was enjoying your state much rather than the nonsense you spoke of, if it makes the embarrassment any lighter."

"It does not..." I grouse. "Although I did not spew nonsense."

"Of course you did." He broadly laughs. "You became concerned when I convinced you to be fearful of having a lack of fingers."

"I do not suppose I even want to know." I huff, but my expression softens at him. "Not all of it was nonsense, though. Not the parts about you."

I can see the gears and cogs meandering in Brock's skull. He seems to contemplate it as if my words are not enough.

"I do not think you were at your finest when you declared these things." He asserts with sureness of himself.

"Liquor makes people all the more honest and trustworthy." I argue, and grimace at how that sounds.

"Sure." He relents sarcastically.

"Commander." I give him a look.

"Darling." He returns the favor.

"Stubborn, are we not?" I muse. "I think my string of compliments have been overdue since you fawned over my dress prior to the ball."

"Nothing is overdue, Galla. It was not praise or flattery; it is how I see you that I have merely expressed in the bygone days. And I shall continue to do so." He purrs into where he has buried his face by my hair.

We stay silent for a moment longer, rejoicing in this ecstasy we have seemed to have stumbled upon. The only thing that comforts me any longer is the sound of him, and the fond touches I have seemed to find myself accustomed to. His heavy breathing rumbles like thunder in his chest if you press your ear close enough, and it is almost too consolatory. Like I shall have forgotten how to eat, fall asleep, breathe without him nearby.

I love hard.

And I love Brock more than anything I have ever dreamed of.

Our lips have yet to touch, our honor have yet to break, but that is unnecessary to the whereabouts of my devotions. Every word has me on my toes, every look of want crawling through my body like a disease I cannot find the strength to fight. 

I do not think I have the strength to counter it at all.

But it is far too soon, too much to say anything at all, so I will keep silent until he leaves. Because he must, eventually, as every other man no matter the difference at heart.

And mine will break, but that is all right. 

I. Am. always. Just. All. right.