If there was one thing he hated, it was paperwork. Well, Sydney Carton hated a lot of things, but paperwork especially. Even more so when it was being done for that bastard Stryver. Fucking Stryver and his fucking paperwork. Fuck this.

The room lurched around him, forcing him to hang his head for a brief moment to fight back the onslaught of nausea. He really shouldn't drink during the day.

On that note, he fumbled around in the bottom drawer of his office desk until his ink stained fingertips touched cold glass. They curled around the neck of a 3/4 of the way empty bottle of cheap red wine and brought it up to stained lips.

Several large gulps burned down his throat, but the miserable man didn't flinch, having long learned to enjoy the feeling. He frowned, staring at the bottle. Why did it have to empty so quickly?

He resisted the urge to drain the rest, quickly replacing the bottle before picking up his quill. He'd need more before the night was out. And it was going to be a long one, considering that Stryver had left several hours prior to "attend dinner" and "entrusted the firm to Sydney." Meaning "do all the paperwork." Fucking Stryver.

If he thought his day sucked before, it got a hell of a lot worse when Stryver walked back in.

"Carton!" He called. His voice grated on Sydney's ears.

"Yes?" He growled impatiently. Stryver took one good look at his partner and frowned.

"Have you been drinking?"

"No of course not."

Stryver strode over and grabbed Sydney's chin.

"My arse you haven't." He roughly shoved Sydney's face away. The drunkard shut his eyes and kept his head down, bracing himself as Stryver picked up the cases he'd been working on.

"What in God's green Earth is this? Insanity?!" He snapped angrily, slapping the papers back down on the desk. "What a fool you are Carton. What a damn fool."

'Well you couldn't do much better, now could you? Or I wouldn't be doing your work,' though Sydney apathetically.

"You can't do much can you?" continued Stryver. Sydney didn't respond. "You can't do your damn job, can't go a night without drinking so much I have to come drag your sorry arse back home every morning, can't even woo a woman properly." Sydney flinched at the allusion to Lucie.

"It was almost pathetic really, your half-assed attempt at it."

"It was not half-assed," Sydney growled. "And I didn't fair any better than you did." Stryver glared.

"But at least I've moved on. I've made moves, some rather successful, with other women. Can you say the same?" Sydney didn't answer. Stryver rested his hands on the arms of Sydney's chair and leaned forward.

"Perhaps we're not digging deep enough. Perhaps we need to find the root if the issue so it can be resolved." Sydney felt a hand close on his jaw and jerk his head up. Suddenly his lips were covered by Stryver's own in a harsh kiss.

Eyes flying open, his hands jumped to Stryver's chest and shoved him back.

"W-what in hell..." Stryver smirked at Carton's mortified face.

"You liked that didn't you?"

"What a-are you talking about?"

"Oh don't lie." A hand rested itself on Sydney's leg, a thumb skimming up and down his inner thigh. "I've seen the way you look at men. You queer." Sydney flinched.

"I'm not queer."

"Like hell you're not." The hand snaked up and pressed down hard on Sydney's crotch, making him gasp. "See?"

Sydney grabbed at Stryver's wrist, trying to pull him away, but to no avail. And to his horror, he began to feel himself harden under his boss's ministrations.

"One man in particular though," Stryver mused, batting away Sydney's hands and grabbing ahold of his jaw once more, fingers pressing into his throat.

"Stop it," Sydney croaked.

"Charles Darnay, your look-alike. How quaint." He pressed down with the heel of his palm.

"I said stop it," Sydney repeated, trying once more to escape from this predicament.

"Oh the way you look at him, it's almost cute. You love him, don't you? How...sickening."

"I said STOP IT!" Hands planted firmly on Stryver's shoulders, he shoved as hard as he could, knocking the other man off balance and giving Sydney a moment to scrambled away.

Halting on the other side of the room, he stood panting, face flaming red and trousers uncomfortably tight.

Stryver regained his balance and regarded Sydney coldly.

"Don't let me catch you drinking on the job again. Now leave." Sydney bolted out the door, neglecting to acquire a coat.

The frigid air gnawed on his skin and burned his lungs as he stood, doubled over in an alleyway a few blocks away from the office, heaving up the contents of his stomach onto the cobblestones. Humiliated beyond comprehension, he collapsed against the brick wall and let the tears flow down his cheeks because damn it Stryver was right.