Title: Why Heroes Deserve Whiskey Disclaimer: Do not own anything. Do not make any money with it. Just playing a little. Table/Prompt: Themed Table: Cliché - Drunken Kiss
Author: silverslice
Rating: K+
Warnings (inc. Spoilers): A lot of whiskey and slash (as in two guys kissing)
Summary: They deserved some whiskey after saving the world once more, right?
Challenge: mission_insane
Nathan looked anything but perfect, when he walked into Café Diem. His tie hung loose around his neck, his jacket was missing an arm and his former shiny white chemise was darkened by dirt and nearly every part of him was somehow covered in dust. As was the Sheriff who entered the restaurant seconds after him.
Vince wanted to say something, but Carter just shrugged it off by calling for a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.
They just wanted to get themselves wasted. They earned this privilege by saving the world with throwing their own lives on the line. Once again. Second time this week. And it was just wednesday night. They deserved some whiskey.
Stark had taken a seat at a small table in one of the corners of the room. He just wanted the most privacy he could get in this public place. Carter sat down face to face with him, placing the glasses on the table and instantly started to fill them.
"Scientist" Jack raised his glass and looked at Nathan, his gaze firm and waiting.
Nathan nodded, taking his glass, "Sheriff."
*
More shots followed the first one and with time passing by, the bottle was far behind being half empty and the full-time chaos-creating heroes have already rushed thorugh states of antagonistic rivalry, self-serving worship and acrimonious friendship before they were caught somewhere in between sarcastic flirting and delightful bickering.
They were practically filling the whole room with unresolved sexual tension.
And Vince was watching them inconspicuously and increasing his bet from time to time. There was no way those two in the corner won't end up shagging each other senseles sooner or later.
*
Vincent sighed, the restaurant was merely empty with the last three persons who had been sitting at the bar leaving. It was long past midnight and time to close Café Diem. Although he might have liked to watch how the Sheriff's and Dr. Stark's little drinking game would develop- and even more interesting- how it would end up.
"I'm sorry to tell you this, guys, but I guess, the party's over now. I have to close the restaurant and you would be saver in a bed anyway..."
*
Both men, not quite steady and a little shaky on their legs, tried to hold on to whatever was close enough to reach. To Vincent's surprise it didn't even matter to them when they obviously clung to each other. Arms wrapped around the others shoulders, hands fisted into dirty uniform-shirts and already tattered Armani-jackets, they still managed to throw little insults against each other.
And the cook has never seen anybody stumble as graceful as Nathan Stark. Carter, on the other side... well, he was Carter. With the whiskey bottle in one hand, he hung on to Nathan and it was a miracle that he wasn't tripping over his own or Nathan's feet. However his smile, was as bright as ever and probably that was enough of a distraction from his clumsy behaviour.
"Goodnight Carter, Dr. Stark" Vince greeted, with a huge smile on his face, when he heard them talk about anything that sounded like "My house is closer..."
*
Somehow they managed to get to Stark's house. Nathan's back was pressed against the wall to keep him from falling. They haven't talked for what felt like hours, before the scientist watched the sheriff raising the bottle to his mouth.
"How does it come that the last sip is always yours?"
"Hm?" Carter let the bottle sink again, seeking Nathan's eyes, "I never said, I don't want to share."
Nathan smiled, linking their gazes. Bright blue, was reddened by too much alcohol and too less sleep and still it seemed too pure to be part of a man who had definetly seen a lot of things one should normally never have to see. Stark's hands were loosely placed on Jack's hips, fingers linked with his belt. He was close, a little too close already, but it was night and they were drunk. It was okay. And it was still okay when Carter took the last drops of whiskey, let the bottle fall and shatter on the ground and leaned in even closer, leaving almost no distance between them.
*
The kiss was slow and a little lazy at first. Both of them taking their time to get used to the feeling of the others tongue and lips and to the bitter experience of whiskey, that was a whole different one, when you taste it on an other's mouth. But it was good, so good that they couldn't stop after the first kiss, like they couldn't stop after the first shot of whiskey earlier this night.
It could have been compared to some kind of strange addiction. Once you have started, you can't stop until your through. They had to be through with the whiskey (even if half of the fluid had probably landed anywhere but into their mouthes) before they could start with kissing. And now they must be through with kissing and then fucking, out of control and full of passion, and then waking up between twisted sheets, naked and with a huge hang-over and finally they needed to deny everything, making a silent vow, that they won't talk about it anymore, so that life could simply go on the way they were used to it.
*
None of them could ever be sure of what that really was, that occasionally happened to them those nights. But somewhere in their clouded minds both of them knew, that they couldn't blame everything on the aclohol rushing through their veins.
*
Well, at least one thing was sure as hell: There will be other evenings like this. They were still the ones everybody relied on when it came to a crisis in Eureka and they worked best together. They were heroes, in a twisted way, of course and both of them were more than just a little screwed. But they were heroes in the end. And heroes deserved some distraction between those days full of tragic events. From time to time, they deserved nights full of whiskey.