Tipsy
By EggSalad
Disclaimer: Not one of the characters depicted in this story belongs to me. Not one. It wouldn't help anyone to sue me, either, because I'm just a penniless student.
Feedback: Yes, please. This is the first story I've had enough courage to post, so any feedback (of the constructive or kind variety) would be greatly appreciated.
Author's Note: I dashed this story off in about ten minutes sometime after midnight. As a result I'm rather sleep deprived, but my muse and I are quite happy with the fruits of our labor. I modeled this story's conversation after the conversation Rick and a rather drunk Evie have at Hamunaptra. If this story looks familiar to you, that may be why. It's short, as you can probably already tell - less than 1000 words, I believe. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Thanks to my three-in-one sister, friend, and beta reader. This story's for you, Annie.
"Jonathan," Rick O'Connell said despairingly, "Why do you keep doing this?"
There was a hiccup from the floor, which was closely followed by a groan from the same source. Rick heaved a groan of his own and yanked Jonathan to his feet, depositing him in a chair. Jonathan, in the midst of sliding down said chair, suddenly sat bolt upright.
"It's because I'm a hero," he said firmly, enunciating each word carefully.
"What?" Rick asked, startled. He pulled a few of Evy's papers off of the settee in the sitting room so Jonathan could crash there. Rick was damned if he was going to haul Jonathan up those bloody stairs to the guest room again. Nearly broke his back the last time.
"I'm a hero!" Jonathan gesticulated wildly, finishing the business of sliding off the chair.
"Sure, Jonathan."
"No, I am! I heroically sacrificed myself so -" Rick tried to drag him to the settee, but Jonathan fended him off, "- so dear old Evie could be - could be - ah ... Oh, yes - serious. So Evie could be serious." Jonathan looked quite serious here himself. Rick paused in the act of grabbing Jonathan's arm and frowned.
"Is there a point to this drunken rambling?" Rick pulled on Jonathan's coat shoulders and began the arduous business of dragging him to the settee.
"Point! Point!? O' course I 'ave a point. Ah ... when my dear old parents died I forced Evie to be responsible by being ... well, what you see before you today."
"So why don't you stop? I think Evie's got in the habit, by now," Rick grunted, and attempted to lift a limp Jonathan onto the waiting cushions.
"Ah, but so 'ave I, old boy, so 'ave I." Jonathan hiccuped again, then began a rousing drinking song. He sang the chorus twice because he couldn't remember how the rest of it went, then got bored and lapsed into silence.
"You're drunk," Rick told him, rather needlessly.
"Tipsy, my lad. I know when to stop," Jonathan declared, and proceeded to pass out on the floor.
End
By EggSalad
Disclaimer: Not one of the characters depicted in this story belongs to me. Not one. It wouldn't help anyone to sue me, either, because I'm just a penniless student.
Feedback: Yes, please. This is the first story I've had enough courage to post, so any feedback (of the constructive or kind variety) would be greatly appreciated.
Author's Note: I dashed this story off in about ten minutes sometime after midnight. As a result I'm rather sleep deprived, but my muse and I are quite happy with the fruits of our labor. I modeled this story's conversation after the conversation Rick and a rather drunk Evie have at Hamunaptra. If this story looks familiar to you, that may be why. It's short, as you can probably already tell - less than 1000 words, I believe. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Thanks to my three-in-one sister, friend, and beta reader. This story's for you, Annie.
"Jonathan," Rick O'Connell said despairingly, "Why do you keep doing this?"
There was a hiccup from the floor, which was closely followed by a groan from the same source. Rick heaved a groan of his own and yanked Jonathan to his feet, depositing him in a chair. Jonathan, in the midst of sliding down said chair, suddenly sat bolt upright.
"It's because I'm a hero," he said firmly, enunciating each word carefully.
"What?" Rick asked, startled. He pulled a few of Evy's papers off of the settee in the sitting room so Jonathan could crash there. Rick was damned if he was going to haul Jonathan up those bloody stairs to the guest room again. Nearly broke his back the last time.
"I'm a hero!" Jonathan gesticulated wildly, finishing the business of sliding off the chair.
"Sure, Jonathan."
"No, I am! I heroically sacrificed myself so -" Rick tried to drag him to the settee, but Jonathan fended him off, "- so dear old Evie could be - could be - ah ... Oh, yes - serious. So Evie could be serious." Jonathan looked quite serious here himself. Rick paused in the act of grabbing Jonathan's arm and frowned.
"Is there a point to this drunken rambling?" Rick pulled on Jonathan's coat shoulders and began the arduous business of dragging him to the settee.
"Point! Point!? O' course I 'ave a point. Ah ... when my dear old parents died I forced Evie to be responsible by being ... well, what you see before you today."
"So why don't you stop? I think Evie's got in the habit, by now," Rick grunted, and attempted to lift a limp Jonathan onto the waiting cushions.
"Ah, but so 'ave I, old boy, so 'ave I." Jonathan hiccuped again, then began a rousing drinking song. He sang the chorus twice because he couldn't remember how the rest of it went, then got bored and lapsed into silence.
"You're drunk," Rick told him, rather needlessly.
"Tipsy, my lad. I know when to stop," Jonathan declared, and proceeded to pass out on the floor.
End