Boys Night In

“We need more drinks than that.”

Billy looked at his friend incredulously. “Surely, you jest.”

Dom crinkled his nose up. “Erm. No. I’m not jesting, as you say.”

Shrugging, Billy loaded a few more crates of beer into the shopping cart and began pushing it up the aisle. “Bill, we’ve only got, what, six or seven dozen crates? That’s not enough.”

“Dom, who do you think is coming over? An AA meeting?”

“Well, that’s not funny,” Dom replied snippily, putting another box of Bud Light into the cart. “Alcoholism is a very serious disease. Plus, if we were holding such a meeting, we certainly wouldn’t be serving alcohol.”

“I see you’ve been reading the pamphlets again,” Billy remarked wryly, lifting the Buds out of the cart and placing them casually back onto their rightful shelf.

“Hey!” Dom yelled, pouting. “I’m watching my figure. We gotta start drinking light.”

Billy looked pointedly at their overflowing cart (which as filled with boxes of beer in every possible spot). “You call this drinking light, do you?”

“I mean less calories,” Dom stated in a ‘well, duh’ voice, putting the Bud Lights back in the cart; they were teetering precariously on the top of the pile. He strutted along down the aisle. “How many bags of crisps, do you think? Sixty or seventy?”

Billy stood, openmouthed, in the middle of the beer aisle, watching as Dom disappeared down the next row (the junk food one, Billy knew all too well). “Sixty or SEVENTY?” Billy asked disbelievingly, pushing the cart up behind Dom, who was looking critically at some Tostitos. “Who the hell have you invited? An entire football team?”

“Of course not,” Dom answered dryly. “Footballers are on diets. They can’t just go about eating crisps and drinking non-light beers all the time, you know.”

“No, but they do,” Billy mumbled sourly, watching as Dom finally chose some tortilla chips and tossed them on top of the mountain of tipsy beers.

Dom moved along towards the pretzels and expertly plucked a few bags from the shelf, tossing them into the fray of food and drink they were collecting before moving onto the cheesy stuff.

“I think we’ll need another cart,” Billy mused, watching Dom closely.

Dom ignored him and continued checking out nutritional information on the back of some Cheetos. “Who’ve you invited?” Billy asked again, this time hesitantly, as if he were scared to know the answer.

“Just Elijah and Viggo,” Dom replied, tossing the Cheetos onto the cart; they fell off the pile immediately and Dom picked them up and tucked them under his arm before moving on. “We need non-alcoholic drinks, you think?”

Billy stared at him. “Just Elijah and Viggo?” His voice was annoyance mixed with surprise blended with incredulity.

“Viggo eats like a horse,” Dom said, by way of explanation. “I think some Snapples ought to do it. We’ll have to cut Elijah off after four or five beers; he can have ice tea with lemon after that.”

“I’m sure he’ll be happy you thought about that,” Billy remarked sarcastically, trying hard not to roll his eyes. “Elijah takes being cut off so well, after all.”

Dom chose to ignore him as he tucked a few bottles of Snapple under his other arm. “I think that’s all.” He motioned for Billy to follow him. “Be my bitch, would you?”

Billy blinked. “EXCUSE me?”

“Follow me.” Dom translated, laughing. They started down the aisle toward the front of the store and the check out lines, Billy staring at the cart and pushing with all his might (it was very heavy).

“Were you dropped on your head as a child?” Billy wondered, nearly running into Dom as he stopped abruptly to check out the wine section.

“Not that I know of. But I’m sure they wouldn’t have told me. It would have made me feel special and important.” Dom shuddered at the thought. “Ah, some wine, I think.”

Billy shook his head. “Dom, we’ll never be able to haul this up your steps as it is. Put the wine back.”

Dom stared at him as if he’d never seen him before. “Put the wine back?” He repeated hollowly, as if the suggestion were completely ludicrous.

“Put it back. That’s a good boy.” Dom set the wine back, scowling. “Run along now so we can use our entire LOTR pay check to pay for this crap.” Billy gave the back of Dom’s shins a nice little tap with the cart, and Dom vaulted forward, stumbling slightly.

“I hope Viggo’s hungry,” Billy remarked, tossing the food onto the belt as Dom unloaded some of the beer.

“I’m sure he is. Did I mention I invited Orly as well? No, well I did. And I think Viggo made mention of inviting a bunch of his painter friends. And Lij said he was bringing this band he’d just met. Oh, and I invited----what?”

Billy was scowling and frowning and all that other stuff, his eyes wide. “Dom. It would have been nice of you to tell me all that BEFORE I started wondering why the bloody hell you were suddenly enamored by the light beers.”

Dom shrugged. “I could have told you upfront I was inviting the entire state of California,” he conceded lightly. “But then we wouldn’t have had any of that lovely banter we’re so good at.” He gave Billy’s hair an affectionate little tussle. “And I do so cherish our bickering.”

Billy blinked, shook his head, and took out his wallet. “You’re something else.”

“I know,” Dom cooed, grinning cheekily.

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