mgowriter's notes: I had a lot of fun writing "A Night to Remember," and I wanted to continue the story, turning the focus onto Sully and Nate. However, you don't need to read it to understand this story.
A point of clarification: Sully's romantic interest in both stories is Eve, a new character. While I can see a scenario with Sully and Marlowe, I can't stomach it very well :/ Eve is described a little more in this story.
Confession: I've never studied French. The French phrase in here is straight from an online translator. For those that speak the language, please let me know if anything doesn't look right!
Chapter 1
Nathan Drake leaned against the glass window as he wiped away the raindrops from his face. Shivering against the wind, he looked up at the bright yellow awning that provided the only sanctuary from the relentless downpour. He peered into the large storefront window, leaving wet imprints of two cupped hands, a forehead, and nose. A towering, multitier cake met his eyes. Extending from the ground to chest level, it was decorated lavishly with lace and flowers, and pounds of icing. At the top stood a miniature groom and his plastic bride, forever locked in a kiss. Nate made out the faint letters of "Sarah's Wedding Cakes" on a banner in the dim lighting. He had probably driven by this store a hundred times before, but never gave it a second thought. Fitting, he thought, as he realized the storm wasn't going to lighten up any time soon, and headed back into the rain.
His heartbeat pounded in his head as he stumbled the last few blocks to his destination. The relentless rain came down in sheets, leaving little room for visibility. He felt his shoes, long ago soaked with the rest of his clothes, splatter through at least an inch of water. At the sound of a passing vehicle, he turned his head too quickly. The street spun around him.
You're a real winner, Nate. She picked a good one.
Nate walked up to the last driveway on the street, relieved to be almost out of the miserable rain. The charcoal-red bricks led to a large, two-story house with a cream-colored exterior. White pillars that supported the arched entryway of the Mediterranean style house were reflected in varying shades of gray, making the normally cheerful appearance much gloomier. Nate reached into his pockets and fumbled around for his keys. He frowned when the familiar jingle failed to register from either pocket. He patted them once more, and suddenly remembered why he was walking in the first place.
. . .
"Come on, buddy, you're in no shape to drive." The bartender reached out his hand. "Give me the keys."
"I'm not your buddy," Nate said, slurring his words heavily. He spun his chair around, ready to head out the door.
The bartender must've had lightening quick speed, because he was in front of Nate a second later, with his keys firmly secured.
"Hey," Nate said angrily. "You don't wanna mess with me."
"Right," the other man said. "You can thank me in the morning. I'm calling you a cab."
Nate made his way to the door. "Forget it, asshole. Keep'em. I was going for a walk anyway."
. . .
Nate shuddered involuntarily as the wind picked up again and cut through his thin, cotton T-shirt. At least the cold was helping him think clearer. He felt around the doorway for the doorbell and pressed it. He waited, counting off the seconds. There was no reply. He tried again, this time with more urgency.