Rhys/Mia
Song: Hold Me down
Artist: Gin Blossoms
Disclaimer: The words that aren't italizied are my own, the characters and lyrics are not.
So I guess I must have just been dreaming
When I thought I heard myself say no
Anyway it looks like no one heard me so here I go
Rhys was staring down into the cup he was slowly sipping out of, and tried to make sense of what he could only figure was a night gone horribly wrong. He was rapidly developing a headache, despite his attempts at a cheery demeanor.
"You look like hell," Ike chuckled, saddling into the seat next to him. Rhys forced a smile.
"Just...not used to the noise..." He looked up at the purple haired woman loudly demanding more drinks for everyone from a rather exasperated barman.
"I'm surprised you joined us."
"Me too..." Rhys managed quietly.
Cause when you're in the company of strangers
Or just the strangers you call friends
You know before you start just how it's going to end
When the doors swing open and all the drinks are passed around
Anytime the pickins look too easy...hold me down
As Ike left the bar to go check on Soren, who was sulking in a different corner and inching towards the door, Rhys let himself reflect on the instances that led him to this rowdy inn. Mia, in her usual fashion, had burst into his room while he was changing for bed. She grabbed him roughly by the elbow and dragging him, despite his protests (not that they were very loud, he was in shock) out the door and into the carriage that was taking certain members of Greil's mercenaries into town for a night of carousing.
From the moment the tavern doors swung open Rhys could imagine how the night was going to go. Mia's first drunken toast had confirmed his fears, and now Rhys was left alone at a small corner table, trying his best to disguise his headache under a smile and ward off the sick feeling he was getting from the thick tobacco smoke. He watched as his friends drank and laughed and generally enjoyed themselves.
"Enjoyin' yer drink?" Boyd clapped Rhys on the back hard enough to force the flame-haired healer into the table. Rhys coughed and spurted out the small sip of mead he had in his mouth.
"HAHAHAHAHA!" Boyd guffawed loudly. Rhys managed a smile and a small chuckle of his own.
"Heh, ye-yeah..."
"Plenny more! I betcha we can have the whoooolllleeeee bottle 'tween the two of us!"
"N-no! I'm...I'm fine!" Rhys took a drink, trying to smile even though the mead, smooth as it was, burned his delicate throat a little.
"I think Mia wants yer 'ttention." Boyd looked towards the bar with every ounce of drunken solemnity he could muster. Rhys followed his eyes and looked over at Mia, who was frantically waving him towards the bar and the still-helpless-looking barman.
I can't remember why I like this feeling
When it only seems to let me down
Soon I find I'm searching for the exit from the ground
There was no avoiding it, Rhys stood up and walked over to where the purple haired woman was signaling. She threw her arms around his neck, placing a sloppy and poorly aimed kiss on his cheek. Rhys pulled away instinctively, but couldn't keep the blush from rising to his face.
"Have a drink with me!" Mia giggled. She slammed some gold on the bar and the harried man slid a pair of strong smelling booze in their direction. Mia picked hers up, by some miracle not spilling it everywhere. Rhys took his, and wrinkled his nose at the smell. However, not wanting to incur Mia's ire, or the mockery of the men around him, Rhys slammed the drink back. It hit him like a truck, and he began to sputter, much to everyone's amusement. Mia giggled and ordered some more, despite his attempts at protest.
If I think the room is turning faster
Then I think the music is too loud
By then I've lived another broken story to let me down
When those doors swing open and all the drinks are passed around
When half the party moves into the bathroom...hold me down
More shots later than he could count, though everyone swore it was no more than 4, maybe 8, the number of fingers was hard to determine, and things kept shifting, Rhys and Mia were face to face and her hands were wrapped tight around his waist. He wasn't sure who was holding who up, though his tenacious grip on gravity made his skeptical that he was playing the gentleman. Someone was talking, but it wasn't Mia and, at that particular moment, she had his undivided attention, albeit mostly because looking anywhere but straight ahead at he made him dizzy.
"Less have a seat." She slurred. Rhys nodded his head, and let her half drag him over to a booth. They collapsed into the seat together, laughing.
Or if you're at the tail end of the evening
And Dr. Feelgood comes around
Anytime the pickins look too easy...hold me down
"Lets go." A voice prodded Rhys and Mia out of their drunken reverie and conversation. Strong hands clasp him by the shoulders and pulled him upright, his eyes tried to focus on the red braid. Tried, went sideways, and the room went back to spinning.
"He's in bad shape..." Someone was laughing.
"E's fiiiinnnneee."
"Uh-huh, Oscar, can you grab her?" Rhys was led out of the tavern and set gently in the back of a cart. He sprawled out on the hay, and stared upwards, at least the stars weren't moving. His stomach felt ill.
"Drink this." A waterskin was pressed to his lips, "If you're hungover tomorrow too, the whole company'll be a wreck." Rhys choked down some water.
Down if I want that part
Down if I've gone too far
The cart bounced down the trail. More than once, people leaned over the side and voided their stomach, to the amusement of some and the sympathy of others. Rhys was among them more than once, retching into the bushes as they bounced along. Each heave made him feel simultaneously worse and better in the strangest juxtaposition. At least, to the best of his knowledge, he had managed to keep his robes clean.
Well I guess I must have just been reeling
When I felt myself begin to fall
I realize I'm bounding down the hallways and off the walls
If my bed was standing in the corner
I could just fall into it right now
And know that I'd just be staring at the ceiling going round
Someone was helping him off the wagon, half-carrying him into the building. He was half aware of conversations, laughter, someone pulling his robes off and setting him on his bed. Someone was pressed against his chest in a hug. Someone soft.
"I can't smell good." He slurred, trying to pull away. His attempts were met in vain, and he succeeded only in pulling her down onto the bed with him. He lay there for a minute, the alcohol still in his brain forming a hazy fog through which he pulled at consciousness. The figure snuggled tight to his chest made a happy noise, and Rhys was asleep.
When those doors swing open and all the drinks are passed around
Anytime the pickins look too easy...hold me down