I couldn’t sleep. I mean, day dreaming about a kinky threesome with Fate and Brody didn’t help, but once I’d slipped off to the bathroom to jack off (because y’know, I totally didn’t get enough sex), I found myself still all restless and unable to sleep. The TV was still on, chattering and laughing away to itself downstairs, so I figured I’d go down and talk to Lucky if he was still awake. With a bottle of scotch or three.
It was about four or five in the morning, by the way, so I was kind of surprised that I found the guy awake. I got a couple of glasses from the kitchen and flopped down onto the sofa next to him, pouring both of us a rather generous double. He tipped it back without question or hesitation. Guess he was having a harder time getting his head around the fact that the guys he was staying with were banging each other nearly every day, and noisily. Maybe I should invest in a ball gag or something.
I refilled his glass, sipping at my own while I watched him. He threw that one back like water too.
“Dude, slow down,” I said, moving the bottle out of his reach when he reached for it to pour himself another. “Apart from anything, this stuff is expensive. Now,” I look over at him, making sure I at least catch his eye for a second, “I hear you’re not comfortable house sharing with a couple of gay guys. Tell me more.”
“What is there to tell?”
“You wouldn’t be staring at the bottle in my hand if there was nothing more to it,” I smiled slightly, “trust me, I know that look.”
“Yeah? Well you probably wouldn’t get it. You’re too fucking happy with yourself and having your sex toy back to care anyway.”
“He’s not my sex toy,” I snap a little, making him jump. He glances up at the scowl on my face and looks away almost instantly, “he’s my mate. He means a hell of a lot more to me than sex.”
“Sorry,” he muttered, apparently realising I would happily pummel him to death if he ever suggested otherwise again.
“Anyway,” I breathed, forcing myself to calm down with a gulp of fiery liquid and a refill for both of us, “I still want to know why you have a problem with gay people. I might sound like a dick for saying it, but I wanna know if it’s something that can be changed, so you won’t go around being weirded out by people holding hands if they’re the same gender. As much for you as it is for me.”
“I don’t know. I guess I was raised like it,” he says as I pour him yet another glass, purely to keep him talking. People tend to open up easier when they have a bit of drink in them. “Religion and all that, I mean. That being gay’s unnatural and weird and you’ll go to hell for it. I dunno,” he shrugs, picking up his glass and staring down into it. “Not like I’ve had any particularly bad experiences with gays or anything.”
“Gay people,” I correct him calmly and he nods.
“Gay people,” he repeats, “I had a guy hit on me once in a bar, but that was about it. Not like he did anything when I told him I wasn’t interested.”
“So it’s a religion thing then?”
“Sort of. I’m not very religious, but y’know. The family was.”
“Well, would it help if I told you I was the same?” He looked up at me, surprised. “What, you think three hundred years ago we had any kind of acceptance for gay people? I’m a Catholic, born and raised from a time when people were quite happy to kill you for it and would have the support of all the locals.”
“It was, but I got by. I had a bit of a hard time convincing people I wasn’t possessed by the devil, but if they managed to come around and accept it, I’m sure you can.” He looked thoughtful, so I shut my mouth for a few minutes, refilling both our glasses more than a couple of times.
“I think I’ve had too much to drink,” Lucky chuckled.
“No such thing,” I laughed with him.
“We should have a drinking competition some time.”
“You would lose.”
“Don’t be so sure,” he giggled, “just ‘cause you’re a freakin’ werewolf, don’t mean I can’t drink you under the table.”
“It’s got nothing to do with the fact I’m a werewolf, and a lot to do with the fact I’ve been drinking since I was ten.” My liver has had a lot of practice. If I could die a mortal death, it would probably be from drinking.
“Fuck me,” he laughs. I arch an eyebrow at that careless phrase and he clears his throat. “Well, don’t. Not unless you’re hiding a pair of tits and a vagina.” I wrinkle my nose at the thought. Last time I was anywhere near a vagina, I was being born. I tell him that, and he laughs loudly.
By the time Fate appears all sleepy and bleary eyed, it’s nearly the middle of the day and we’re sharing our second bottle of... something. Both of us are too drunk to care anyway. I look up and I’m pretty sure if my blood wasn’t 70% alcohol by then I probably would’ve gotten a boner right there and then. Did I ever mention I fucking love that sleepy, just-rolled-out-of-bed look? It looked good on most people, and on Fate it looked fantastic.
"How long've you been up?" he asked all sleepily.
"Long enough to get through a couple bottles of booze," I grinned up at him, no doubt making myself look even more drunk than I already sounded.
A small frown wrinkled his gorgeous face and I wanted to get up and smooth it away somehow. "It's kinda early for that, isn't it?"
"It's night time somewhere,” I said, earning a quiet giggle from Lucky as I recalled my old mantra from my days of reckless drinking. The frown on Fate’s face didn’t go away as he slinked off into the kitchen to get something to eat.
“Well, you’re right about that one,” Lucky said, clinking his glass against mine and draining it, “you, my friend, are always right, about everything, y’know. God, I hope I remember this when I wake up. ‘Cause you’re amazing and right about everything.” I laughed, probably louder than I should’ve done, but I didn’t care, somehow finding something to talk about with him as Fate sat down somewhere to eat. Lucky fell asleep in the middle of saying something and I giggled.
"How much has he had to drink?" Fate asked. I leaned forward and picked up the empty bottles from the floor, putting them on the table.
“We shared,” I told him, like it somehow made it better. I slumped back, noticing for the first time I wasn’t on the sofa anymore. I was in the armchair, and apparently had no memory of putting myself there. Funny. "I hope we have painkillers. He's gonna need them when he wakes up.” And so am I.
"Dare I ask what the occasion is?"
"I asked him why he dun like gay people and then he got tipsy and said we should have a drinking competition. I think I won."
"He said it was how he was brought up and I said he was stupid and he agreed and now I am the queen of rightness,” I giggled. Get it? Queen? Because I’m a big fat faggot.
"Right," he said.
"Exactly," I grinned. Right is right because I am right all the time. Fate just went back to his cereal, going off to wash his bowl when he was done. I tried to get up to go give him one of those hugs you give people from behind to try and cheer him up, but the table rushed up and whacked me in the head. "Lazarus?" Fate asked from the kitchen.
"The table attacked me,” I whined.
"Go back to bed."
"I can't get up," I told him with a giggle. "I got up and the table hit me in the head." I started telling the coffee table off when the next thing I knew, I was being helped up. "My head hurts," I sort of mumbled.
"You shouldn't have drunk so much,” he chastised me, taking me up to bed where I fell straight down on the covers, going out like a light.
When I woke up, I was convinced I was dying. I couldn’t remember ever having a hangover this bad. Of course, I don’t remember a hangover causing half my pillow to be covered in blood. I prodded my head, yelping and making my headache worse in the process. My fingers came away from my head slick with blood, and judging by how much prodding it hurt, the blood was definitely mine. Well, I s’pose at least I didn’t accidentally change and kill something. That’s always a good thing.
I sat up, waiting for the room to stop spinning before I braved venturing out of the bed. I shuffled down the stairs on my butt, not trusting my legs to keep me upright. Fate was watching TV and I’m sure to him it was quiet enough, but it sounded like world war three had broken out in the living room to me. I grabbed a glass of water and a box of painkillers and wandered in to ask him to turn it down.
Spotting the blood that was no doubt all over my head and face, he turned it off and got up to inspect the damage.
“I’m dying,” I told him quietly, still half convinced that I was, as I downed a handful of white pills.
"You should probably go to the hospital," he said. No, no hospitals. Me and hospitals do not agree.
"I don't have any insurance. I'm fine. I want to die in peace at home,” I curled up on the end of the sofa that Lucky hadn’t sprawled into.
"Then at least see Line."
"Do I have to move?"
"I can ask him to come over, if you want?"
I groaned. He had better things to be doing than tending to a sad old drunk. "I'll be fine, don't bother him."
"Then at least let me clean you up."
"Kay." I gave in at that point. I couldn’t really argue with that one. I sort of thanked him as he mopped up the mess on my face, apologising for getting so drunk.
“It’s fine,” he said. I pulled a cushion under my head when he was done, making sure I wasn’t lying on the bit that hurt the most. "Can I get you anything?"
"Painkillers that work,” I said sulkily, smiling a little as I felt him run his hand through my hair, even though it was all matted and gross from the blood. "I dunno how you put up with me."
"Magic." I apologised again, the words tumbling out of my mouth and tripping over my guilt. "S'fine." I uncurled a little, pushing my cushion away and patting the space I made. He sat down and I put my head on his lap, curling up around him. I earned myself a smile as I got comfy where I was. I made a mental note to curl around him like this more often.
"What would I do without you, hmm?" I asked, my question almost dissolving into a hum as his fingers ran through my hair again.
"Probably still be with Brody."
I hummed to myself slightly. "Or be a lonely old drunk in some bar," I laughed a little, though I wasn’t being funny at all.
"I'm sure you wouldn't be."
"I used to be."
He bent to kiss my forehead. "I don't care who or what you used to be"
"Thank you,” I mumbled, burying my face in his belly. He had no idea how much that meant to me, considering how much crap there was in my head.
"I called Brody, by the way."
"What did he say?"
"Not much, really. He's coming over at the weekend."
I let out another hum. "It'll be good to see him again."
"Yeah," he smiled.
It was at that point that Lucky stirred. “I think you’re needed again, Nurse Fate,” I chuckled quietly.