Summary: AU, in which Sulley and Randall have somehow become friends after all the events of MI. it's a sort of fill-in-the-details-of-the-hows-and-whys for yourself kind of deal, but I'll give a few little flashbacks in italics throughout this thing. also this is kind of implied Sulley/Randall but also anti Sulley/Randall? make of that what you like. I just needed to write this crap.
warning; some overly sentimental angst, perhaps.
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The Worst Day Of Your Life Happens With Cocktails
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"Kinda breaks your heart, doesn't it?"
"Hm?"
Randall Boggs had been watching the lip of his cocktail glass for approximately 28 minutes now.
He knew this because he'd been keeping tabs on George Sanderson (why not? It was some kind of distraction), who seemed to enjoy going to the bathroom every three and a half minutes. Randall had worked out that Sanderson had been four times already, so if his math was right that would make it about-
"Oh, Jesus," he interrupted his own thoughts. This was ludicrous. Also stupid.
"What? Are you in love with him or something?"
"...what?" Randall blinked, his vision clearing. Suddenly he realised the object of his staring wasn't so much the cocktail glass anymore, but a huge blue and purple spotted furball dancing dangerously (badly) a few meters in front of him. It was a safe distance, at least.
"Are you out of your mind, Worthington?"
Johnny laughed loudly. "I dunno. I always thought you two had some intense rivalry kinda thing going on,"
Randall turned to him expectantly. "and?"
"And you know what they say...the thin line between love and hate is very...thin."
"You're so wasted,"
Actually it was a relief having someone to talk to, like a wasted Johnny Worthington, at this hell disguised as a wedding. Also a bit of a surprise, considering everything. Randall had never expected to see Worthington here, but then Sullivan had never been one to hold grudges.
Of course he didn't, or else Randall wouldn't have found himself sitting awkwardly at a table, surrounding by foods that looked nice but turned his stomach for different reasons, downing as many cocktails as he could get his hands on.
Randall didn't get drunk easily, mostly because he knew his limits, but tonight he was gonna go wild. He was on his seventh cocktail, and the large disco ball dazzled room was already looking hazy; everyone's voices and names and odors were mingling together into some hideous social concoction that Randall had always knew (and dreaded) would turn out this way.
Randall was never supposed to show up at Sullivan's wedding. But here he was, and if he couldn't grin and bear it he could at least look over at Johnny Worthington and think; "well, it could be worse."
"What could be worse?" Johnny said.
Randall mentally hit himself."being at Sullivan's wedding," he amended quickly, and finished the last of his cocktail.
"Yeah," Johnny pushed another glass of something into his hands. "Nice guy though, Sulley. Don't you think?"
Randall cleared his throat. Being next to Johnny was fine and almost entertaining when he was judging all of the monsters Randall didn't really know (or knew vaguely and might even agree about), but now it was uncomfortable, and Randall wasn't sure if the room was hot or if he'd just put his stupid tie on too tightly.
"You're asking the wrong guy," he said, diplomatically.
"Oh, c'mon. He helped you out, didn't he? From what I hear, anyway-"
"What did you hear, exactly?" Randall turned to him properly, unable to keep the snap out of his voice. Damn, he was supposed to be keeping his cool today.
It's only a day. Just one stupid day.
Randall blinked back at the dance floor. He couldn't see that stupid huge furball anywhere now. Like that mattered.
"I just heard stuff," Johnny sounded kind of surprised. "it's not like I went snooping around asking anyone..."
"Excuse me,"
Randall didn't wait to know Worthington's reaction. He surprised himself with his own speedy getaway.
88
He wove through bright scales and fur (and a couple of winks which belonged to monsters Randall couldn't recall at the reception) and found the rest room with a sigh which was only partially relieved.
It was cooler in there, and at least he could loosen his damn tie a little.
He glared at himself in a fancy mirror.
"Randall, what are you even doing here?" he demanded.
His reflection glared back at him (what else was it going to do), green eyes cut to little slits, mouth upturned into a dissatisfied scowl. His default face (some would argue permanent).
"You're an idiot," he decided.
His reflection's mouth turned down a fraction, and the green of his eyes widened just enough for him to figure out his own feelings.
"And a wimp." he added. "just try and have a good time, alright?"
"You're not enjoying the party, Randall?"
"Huh?" Randall whirled round in a moment of hideous embarrassment.
Great. George Sanderson. Plus his unnatural brand of chipper. The embarrassment quickly left him though.
"Oh. Hey Sanderson."
"Randall," the bigger monster left no chance for escape; wrapping huge arms all around Randall, who was small and ineffectual when he was kind of drunk, trapped in toilets like this. "so glad to see you, after all this time! Sorry, I must've missed you earlier?"
"Yeah, definitely," Randall muttered, and remembered George being in his line of vision at least twice at the reception. Dodged a couple of bullets there. Third time unlucky.
"I didn't think you'd show to be honest. But sure glad to see you. Sulley wanted you here,"
Randall tempered his glare. "you didn't think I'd show? Why not?" he hoped he sounded amiable, and not like he was about to strangle monsters directly in front of him.
"Er, well, you know. With all that happened."
"Nothing happened." Randall told him. "I don't know what you're talking about,"
"Oh, well you know. With the banishment...and you coming back...and-"
"So I came back. Big deal. Monsters come back all the time now."
George nodded too quickly; wringing his paws and hopping from foot to foot. He looked terrified and too awkward, and Randall smirked, enjoying a couple of seconds of torture (hey, he took his moments when he could get them).
"Well, er. Yeah, I'm sorry, Randall. I didn't mean that you shouldn't come back. I think it's great you're back..."
"Hey, don't worry about it," Randall batted an arm, and realised he didn't much enjoy George's worried face, perhaps even less than his stupid grinning face. Like he'd ever admit that. "I'm just making an appearance here. Keepin' the big lug happy, right?"
George's expression relaxed. "right," and he hugged Randall too tightly once more. "see you later,"
Randall waited until the door was shut again.
"Not likely," he muttered at the sink.
He looked back up at his reflection again. He had about half a second to consider his terrible tie before another monster bumped into him.
"Urgh. Hey Fungus,"
"Randall!" Fungus was beaming, like he'd found something special, then he grabbed Randall's arm and pulled him back out of the rest room.
"H..hey! What if I gotta go?!"
Fungus stopped at once, "do you need to?"
"...no. But I could've,"
"I'm sorry, Randall, I just-"
"It's fine. Don't worry your stupid head." Randall was already resigned, letting the smaller monster drag him back through the body of dancing monsters.
He'd been resigned to Fungus for quite a while now, as it happened.
Since leaving MI, he'd thought perhaps that'd be the end of Fungus, but really it had been just the beginning.
It had started with a visit once a week, just to drop by some old stationary which Randall had no memory of having, but apparently it all belonged to himl so he wasn't going to argue. Then every couple of days, Fungus came by with marker pens, erasers, wads of paper, paperclips, post-its...
One day, before Fungus had got a word out, Randall just snatched the box of staplers out of his claws and flung them into the air.
"Fungus have you lost your mind?! No monster needs so many staplers!"
"I'm..so sorry...you're right.."
Randall had wanted to slam the door in his face, and he had, but the trouble was he'd slammed it on himself as well as Fungus. Stupid. Fungus and his stupid sorry and frightened face.
"I just...I don't need so many staplers!"
Fungus nodded. looking at the ground. "yeah. I'm sorry."
The short silence was terrible and Randall realised there were other things he's much prefer to it and Fungus's sorry face.
"I need a drink," he'd told the other monster after a moment. "come on,"
"..oh?"
"I said come on!"
"Oh...oh-okay!"
So that'd been the beginning, and so far as Randall could see, there was no end.
It wasn't so bad though.
"Here you go," Fungus handed him another cocktail.
"Thanks, Fungus,"
Yeah, definitely not so bad.
"How many have you had?" Fungus sounded alarmingly like a parent, and Randall was inclined to grin at the idea, if not at Fungus himself.
He shook his head. "not enough."
Fungus was frowning like an overwrought mother. "I knew you were gonna take this bad...I knew it-"
"You...what? How did you know?" Randall narrowed his eyes a bit more than usual.
Fungus continued to frown at him. He didn't seem to be as scared of Randall anymore (if at all). Randall didn't exactly mind, it made it easier to see how Fungus might be an actual friend, after all.
"Cos I'm your friend," the smaller monster said, like he'd read his mind. "and I'm not stupid,"
"No? Well you're sure good at acting stupid," Randall grinned widely. Something at the back of his mind was telling him he wasn't as clever or funny as he thought in that moment.
Fungus's deepening frown was also good confirmation of that.
"Urgh." Randall glared at his cocktail. That was the best apology Fungus was ever going to get out of him.
Fungus seemed to know it.
"I heard you talking to George in the rest room,"
"So?" Randall sat up straighter. He turned his glare back on the dance floor, but couldn't see Sullivan anywhere. It kind of made him anxious. "what about it?"
"It was like you wanted to start a fight with him or something,"
Randall snorted. "George couldn't beat me in a fight anyway. Have you seen his right hook? Wazowski would have a better chance."
"Hey, he did manage to stash Charlie through the door that one time, don't forget."
"Yeah, yeah. Fungus, what's even the point?"
Fungus blinked at him, and looked bewildered. "the point? there's loads of points. Making others happy, making memories-"
"No, Fungus. I mean what is the point to this conversation we're having right now in this very moment?" Randall gritted his teeth.
"Oh, right," the red monster seemed tentative then, like perhaps he was nervous. "Well...I mean, do you really think it's a good idea causing trouble here, of all times?"
Randall stared at him. "you think I'd do that?"
"I just know it's hard for you right now-"
"Will you stop with that?" Randall stood up, not really caring that he'd made the other monster jump with him. "I'm fine, Fungus. Fine. Alright?"
Fungus nodded, but didn't say anything else. Somehow the usually rambling monster's silence was more maddening.
"I...I need another drink," Randall decided.
The faint protest of Fungus was lost in the terrible music blaring from all over the room. Randall was too focused on finding the source of his cocktails, since up to this point random monsters had been giving him them left, right and sometimes from above.
Sullivan had spared no expense on this get-up, that was for sure.
Sullivan, Sullivan.
The name buzzed around Randall's mind like a stinging reminder of reasons why he shouldn't be here. That was absurd in itself, but he was here now.
Pushing through the sea of questionably dancing monsters, he spied a glowing exit sign.
Well, he'd made his appearance, and most every monster knew it. Perhaps he was itching for some trouble, perhaps Fungus was right, and perhaps he should leave before things got complicated. Whatever complicated was.
"Hey there,"
Between the claw on his shoulder and the warm voice, Randall's body twirled round more rapidly than he'd intended it.
"Where're you escaping to, then?"
Randall looked Sulley up and down, and it was like he'd not seen him in a lifetime, which was dumb because they'd only spoken that morning, when Sulley had been complaining about ties and suits.
But it was different now, obviously. It felt different.
Sulley was married and he belonged with someone.
"Nice tie," Randall commented, flicking it up lazily. "goes with your dorky face,"
Sulley grinned. "thanks. Wanna dance?"
He was obviously joking, but Randall thought there was something playful in his eyes, like maybe if Randall had said yes they might actually dance together.
Randall recalled a vague memory of Sulley dancing at a work party a few years back. He looked down at the large monster's two left feet apprehensively.
"I was joking," Sulley said, somewhere between confused and amused. "unless you do actually want to dance, I mean?"
"You are insane," Randall told him. "besides, I don't wanna show up your wife now, do I?"
"Hah, well that's considerate of you."
"Aren't I always?" Randall grinned, and it felt less forced when Sulley returned it.
Maybe it was because he was too drunk though.
The pause between them was small and not so much awkward as it was telling. Like the music around them had been diluted out of the room, and even the stupid monster which kept knocking against Randall's back had been blocked out completely. Why did this sort of thing have to happen even now?
For a moment he was drawn to a lifetime ago; when they'd caught each other's eye at MI, for no reason other than the fact that they worked so closely together, and hey, that happens.
But Randall remembered the way Sulley had looked at him very clearly, as if he was looking at something else about him, that nobody else had ever noticed before. It felt weird and...special? Nah, that wasn't it. But for a second Randall might've considered himself a royal asshole for everything he'd ever said about James P. Sullivan.
In this moment, right now, he didn't need those thoughts.
Randall wanted to scream or punch something or die. He wasn't sure which was more preferable.
"So where's Wazowski?" he said instead. "thought he'd be around, keeping check on me, you know. In case I do anything slightly evil or even worse; slightly more evil."
"Um, last time I saw him he was with Celia..." Sulley cleared his throat, "getting frisky."
"Please. I could've been eating."
Sulley coughed, like he was disguising a laugh. "I think they're just making the most of the babysitter, you know."
"Oh, right. And your best friend's wedding is the classiest place to do it. Wazowski, I'm not surprised. Celia, though..." Randall smirked to himself. "that's pretty funny, actually."
"Bringing up kids can't be easy," Sulley shrugged.
"I guess not," Randall looked away, and thought about Mike and Celia's little one.
She was an unstoppable two year old pink little ball of obnoxiousness called Suzie. Randall had accidentally met her twice already.
Once in the grocery store, she'd yanked his tail and laughed when he'd swiped at her, and then she'd tried to grab his fronds. The most annoying thing was that Mike was laughing through his apologies, but at least Celia had looked kind of sorry through her giggles.
The next time, Fungus had spotted her from across the street, and being the weirdo that he was, had wanted to go and pet her and tell her how cute she was. Suzie had enjoyed Fungus's fuss for a little while, but seemed to enjoy Randall's annoyed face even more (and his fronds again). That had resulted in more apologies which sounded more like laughter, and Mike promising Suzie that they'd see uncle Randall again some time.
"Maybe on my death bed," Randall had yelled at Mike.
"That can be arranged," Mike replied, way too serenely.
And that had been...about a week ago?
"Oh, hey, Randall!" Another voice.
Randall blinked to see another monster standing in front of him; brilliant purple fur and spikes, pretty yellow eyes, and an arm on Sulley's.
"It's so good to see you made it,"
Tonight would be a good night to die. Randall thought grimly.
"Hey Chrissie," he smiled. "You're looking more beautifully gruesome than ever,"
"You're terrible," Chrissie laughed, but then leaned in and hugged him. "thank you, lizardface."
Randall's spiteful heart sank. That was all part of the problem.
When Sulley had told Randall he was marrying Chrissie, Randall knew it was over. Because Chrissie was pointed but kind, unpredictable but comforting, wild but fun. She was pretty perfect, and Sulley had done well.
It would have been easier if she was nasty and hateful and just not right for Sulley at all...
"Hey, Randall, did you hear me? Lizardface?"
"Huh?" Randall realised she was still talking to him. "er...no?"
"I said thanks for the wedding gift, it's great,"
Randall grinned faintly, looking between the two monsters. "it's just a toaster. But everyone needs one, right?"
"Whenever we have toast we'll think of you," Chrissie promised.
"I'm touched,"
In some weird way, perhaps he was.
Yeah, on a completely instinctual level he'd hated Chrissie. In fact he'd been very good at letting Sullivan know about that in the beginning.
"She's too big for you, Sullivan. she'll be stealing your clothes."
"Randall. She's smaller than me. And I don't wear clothes."
"What about ties? You love your ties. Don't tell me you don't."
"I don't,"
"Well then. She's super hairy. you're gonna need at least three extra vacuum cleaners now, I hope you realise. How're you two gonna live in your own disgusting matted fur, I don't know. The idea of it makes me wanna puke, seriously."
"Do you really think it's that disgusting? You never complained about my fur, Randall."
"Yeah, cos I'm not married to you, doofus. Trust me, you're gonna need too many extra vacuum cleaners. At least three. That's too much. Then you'll be in debt forever. And you can't say I didn't warn ya."
"I shoulda bought you a vacuum cleaner," Randall realised out loud.
Sulley laughed easily, and Chrissie grabbed Randall's arm, pulling him into another playful hug.
"Make it a birthday present," she told him, and Randall couldn't help that he didn't hate her anymore.
He shoved her away anyway. "I hate you," he told her, and then Sullivan. "both of you. You're both terrible personal space invaders, you know that?"
"That's why you love us," Sulley corrected him, and his smile was familiar and knowing. Randall had flashbacks to times that weren't going to happen anymore.
He felt sick.
"Um. I'm gonna have to use the rest room," he said. "later, losers,"
88
He didn't need to be sick, he just needed to be somewhere else. Just for a little while.
He didn't reach the rest room before Wazowski found him.
"Hey Randall,"
"Hey," Randall rolled his eyes. "shall we get the interrogation outta the way first?"
Mike was pouting, but it wasn't very convincing. "I'm not here to lecture you," he said after a moment. "Just...it's good you came. You made Sulley happy,"
"Did I?" Randall hadn't meant to ask, but it was too late now.
"Sure. I hate to say it, but you're one of his best friends, pretty much."
"Pretty much?" Randall had meant to protest the idea. Instead he was somehow letting Wazowski know that he was a rabid coil of jealousy right now. "please kill me," he added, under his breath.
"Yeah, well, I'll always be his bestest friend," Mike said, but he was looking at Randall like it didn't really matter anyway. "you're his best friend that turned away from the dark and saw the light somehow. You know, that kinda guy."
"Oh right. So what're you? The annoying sidekick comic relief kinda guy?"
"Please. I'm not even gonna waste my breath responding to that," Mike paused for about half a second. "But if you have to know, I am definitely not that."
Randall smirked at him. It was weird how much he could kind of get on with Wazowski now. Neither of them liked each other too much (and that was fine), but they didn't hate each other too much now either.
That was Sullivan's fault, too. Persistent and patient, also he was good at stopping them from killing each other. They'd almost come to blows too many times before Sullivan had intervened, and sometimes so had Randall and Sulley because of it.
"Can't you two just *try* to get along?" Sulley had asked him late one night.
They'd been out for a meal with Mike and Celia (coincidentally to celebrate their engagement), and of course it had ended up with smashed dinner plates and Mike crawling across the table trying to kill Randall, whilst Sulley did an admirable job of holding Randall back and preventing him from doing the same thing.
"I think we did okay," Randall had told Sulley. "Nobody died. And I was a delight."
"you were a nightmare and you know it," there was proper annoyance in Sulley's voice, and Randall took notice, because Sulley didn't get annoyed too often.
"Alright," Randall hesitated. "you're right, I was a nightmare. I'll try harder,"
Sulley had smiled brilliantly at him for that. "thank you,"
Randall had never seen Sulley look so happy.
That was mostly why Randall remembered it. He guessed he'd try and get on a bit more with Wazowski.
Sulley made him do weird things like that somehow.
"See? Look how happy he is," Mike was gesturing back at the dance floor, and Randall followed his gaze.
He hadn't really been listening, but some slow and sappy number was playing. In the middle of the dance floor, and parted away from everyone else, Sulley and Chrissie were dancing together, slowly and like a newly wed couple probably should. When they're in love and stuff like that.
Randall opened his mouth; I'm gonna puke on the tip of his tongue, but somehow the words were trapped there, and teetering, not wanted to come out and ruin the moment, maybe. Whatever that was.
Randall kind of knew though, even before he looked at Sulley's face.
It was both painful and amazing at the same time.
Conflicting emotions seemed to be theme of the night, and Randall was starting to realise it wasn't going to change anything.
He swallowed, shutting down his words. Sulley was happy, really happy. And wasn't that supposed to be wonderful?
"Ain't it wonderful?" Mike said.
Randall nodded, but found he couldn't turn away from Sulley just yet.
"Y'know. I never figured this would happen for Sul. I always thought he'd, I dunno, be a bachelor forever."
"Mm. Me too," Randall said, a realisation he'd had long ago.
"That or he was gay,"
"What?" Randall flushed a bit, looking sideways at Mike.
"I mean, he could still get married...I'm not saying he wouldn't if he were. I'm saying he wouldn't be marrying a girl if he were."
"Well obviously."
"Yeah well. He was just so into his work. I did kinda suspect for a while. And then when you stayed with him for a bit... wow that would've been weird."
Randall looked properly at him. "did you think we were-"
"Hey, I've got no problem with it," Mike said quickly. "Just would've been weird if you two were...together. After all that happened, I mean."
"Weird," Randall repeated the word.
There were so many other words he could have used, and wanted to use, for it. But Mike Wazowski was not the correct audience for that.
"It wouldn't have been so weird," he put his cocktail glass down again (he wasn't even sure how he'd acquired it), and blinked back at the dance floor. "Just different."
Sulley was laughing at something Chrissie was saying, and she was dipping her head under his chin, their arms all around each other.
"Chrissie's nice," Randall said listlessly, because it seemed like something he should say, and Mike was still there.
"Yeah, she's great," It was Celia's voice, and Randall turned and offered her a nod.
"Hey sweetie, nice to see ya without that tiny little eyeball of terror,"
"What do you mean? He's right here," Celia nudged Mike, who snorted, but Randall saw the easy way they looked at each other.
Randall was getting sick of couples. Couples were overrated and made him sick. Cocktails were better. He could use more of those.
"...Randall, are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Randall wasn't even sure who was talking to him.
Voices were becoming more distant, and in any case he thought he could see the cocktail bar. Maybe if he reached it he'd be saved by the remnants of alcohol, and this entire day could dissolve into faint hung over memories.
The dance floor felt sticky and balloons bobbed in front of his face, like they were trying to distract him from his destination. He waved them out the way, along with elbows and tentacles and the voices that came with them.
"Hey Randall! c'mon, have a dance!"
"Boggs! I thought I saw you earlier-"
"Hey Boggs! Oh man I knew I was you..."
"Boggs! Randall Boggs!"
"What?!" Randall whirled round, finding eyes all on him, glittering and curious in the multicoloured disco light. "what is it?"
The closest monster to him was Johnny Worthington, and for just a second Randall became Randy once again, his body recoiling, and shrinking back from the larger monster.
Johnny grinned, his eyes unfocused, and his step unsteady as he slapped an arm around Randall.
"Don't get so uptight, Randy...after all that's happened..."
"Don't call me that," Randall muttered.
"Okay, fine. Randall. I'm just saying..."
Johnny's voice faded to the back of Randall's mind, even though he was still talking. It didn't matter so much to Randall anymore.
After all that's happened.
Randall looked ahead, where he thought he could see Sulley dancing, but perhaps he wasn't, and he was just remembering something vivid.
"C'mon, Randall. You gonna sit there all night or have a dance?" Sulley was asking him, and they were at Sulley's apartment. It was way too late, and Randall felt sleepy but in a good way.
"How about sit here all night? I don't dance, Sullivan. Sorry," he added as an afterthought.
"Sure you do, I've seen you,"
Randall spared him a horrified look.
"Kidding," Sulley grinned, and nudged him easily in the side. "but c''mon. it's fun."
Randall pulled a face. "I don't do dancing,"
"You mean you don't do fun?" Sulley tutted, and then had the nerve to pull him up, and into the tiny space which occupied the apartment. "I'll teach you. I'm a professional, don't you know."
"I didn't know,"
"So let me show you,"
For whatever reason, Randall had let him. He'd not even had a drink, and he didn't do this sort of thing, but somehow it was happening. Paws on his shoulders, telling him to do the same, Sulley's face closer than usual, and then they fit together like really weird jigsaw pieces.
"See, now you're getting it," Sulley said, stomping around like a disturbed elephant. "You're a natural,"
"Please let the blinds be shut," Randall said.
Sulley laughed, and then dipped Randall quite dramatically.
Randall gasped and instinctually grabbed the stupid lug's fur.
"It's okay," Sulley was still laughing, and yet sounded softer. "you're safe,"
Randall opened his eyes (unaware he'd closed them) and blinked at Sulley with a want to be angry, but his heart was too busy thundering in his chest, and his mouth was too dry.
The gap between them was blurred and smaller for some reason, and Randall only considered how it had happened for a second, before pulling away.
"I told you, I can't dance,"
Sulley didn't look hurt, but disappointed. "that's okay," he said after a moment. "you did great,"
"Great," Randall repeated, and shrugged the arm (Johnny's) off his shoulder. "Where's Sullivan?" he asked no one in particular.
Everyone was still dancing, and the light was too bright and the music was too loud.
"Somewhere," George Sanderson said unhelpfully.
Randall growled to himself and stormed through the crowd. Sullivan shouldn't be so hard to find. He was big and hairy and clumsy and...
"Arrgh-"
"Oops...sorry, I-...Randall?" and there he was.
"Sullivan!" Randall grabbed his tie. "I was...I was looking for you,"
He wanted to be angry. He needed to be. But it was useless. Like so many things, Sulley somehow made him think differently, act differently. hell, just do everything differently.
"Well, I'm here," Sulley grinned, holding up his hands. they were filled with cocktail glasses. "here you go,"
Randall found a glass pushed into his hand, and then Sulley was starting to leave.
"No, wait-you can't-"
"Hm?" Sulley turned round. he looked distracted. of course he was distracted. this was his wedding day, and he didn't need to be talking to Randall at all.
Randall silently cursed, and then took a breath;
"Alright. I'll dance with you."
"Yeah, we can...what?" Sulley did an almost comical double take, spilling some of his cocktails.
"I said I'd dance with you," Randall said in a weaker voice. A part of him wanted to slink away, another part of him was too stubborn and stupid though.
"Um," Sulley looked around. "is this a joke? Has Mikey got some hidden camera type prank going on?"
"No," Randall stepped forward, realising he was going to have to be even more stupid. He grabbed Sulley's arm and curled another round his waist. "you asked me earlier, remember?"
"Wasn't I joking?" Sulley put his arms around Randall anyway, a smile finding his lips.
"I don't remember that part." Randall lied. " but I do remember you telling me this is supposed to be fun,"
"Yeah," Sulley's voice got quieter, and they started to move with a beat which was too slow. "I remember,"
Randall closed his eyes. He wasn't even listening to the music.
Sulley's chest was too close, and Randall could hear his heart. He could feel it, like a deep steady bass. A gentle reminder of safety and something Randall had never felt before, and now he knew he wouldn't have it anyway. At least not how he wanted it.
"You're warm," he sighed, and let his head rest on Sulley's shoulder.
"Hey, one of the advantages to being a huge, disgusting furball, I guess."
"Hmm," Randall smiled, and felt paws petting his fronds.
Through his eyelids he could see the flash of the dance lights, the only vague reminder of where he actually was. In any case, it was too late now. Maybe Chrissie would see them dancing, and maybe that'd make her go away. Perhaps that was all that needed to happen...
The floor didn't feel so sticky anymore. Randall could hardly feel it all; it was like he wasn't even grounded, and his senses were dulling, numbing.
A twinkling sound smashed somewhere around him; glass breaking, and then a deep voice vibrated near his ear. Randall opened to his eyes to find the ceiling was spinning. That wasn't right.
"I feel...weird..."
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"Randall?...Randall are you okay?"
Sulley's voice was soft and his paw on Randall's shoulder even more so.
"You wanna throw up or pass out?"
Randall's senses returned to him in the form of a harsh rush of cool air, and he blinked and realised he was looking at a beautiful vast lawn, and in the centre of it was a huge water fountain. He was seated on the edge of it with Sulley, and Sulley's paw was still on his shoulder.
He shrugged it off; "hey, what're..what are we doing here?"
"I had to take you outside, to prevent embarrassing stories happening tomorrow. And you can thank me later, by the way."
"Urgh," Randall placed a hand on his head, rubbing it slowly. "I might want to pass out, actually."
"Well try not to," Sulley looked concerned, but he was smiling with it.
Randall shook his head, as if that might clear it. It just made him dizzier. "I'm sorry. I'm a mess and I'm ruining the best day of your life right now."
"You're sorry? Since when is Randall sorry?" Sulley pretended to be surprised.
"Since this one time only," Randall glared. "and don't forget it,"
"I won't," Sulley was smiling again, and Randall wanted to be annoyed at him, but that was impossible, of course.
He sighed. "I'm dumb."
"Drunk," Sulley corrected. "pretty drunk."
"You don't need to point out the obvious,"
"Sorry," Sulley did look sorry, but his mouth was quivering, wanting to smile too much. Randall almost couldn't stand it. That was the dumb thing.
"You're...really happy, aren't you?" Randall said, more to himself.
"Yeah," Sulley laughed, but there was a nervous edge to it.
It made Randall's throat tighten a fraction, and heightened his nerves. He looked up at the sky, which was dark and clouded. It wasn't all stars and moon, the romantic cliche he'd always imagined or maybe hoped for.
Hell, what was he even imagining, anyway?
"Sulley,"
"Randall, what're you-"
"Shut up, please,"
Randall had found Sulley's soft chest; it was warm and easy to grip, because he knew it well enough.
"Randall, stop. Stop."
A large paw rested on his slender arm, catching it before he could reach Sulley's face, lowering it before he could do anything else.
With a little more sense and a little less alcohol, Randall would've been mortified at himself, and at the back of his mind he was. But for now it hardly mattered.
He stared into Sulley's eyes, which looked too blue and too kind, as usual. And wasn't that always the trouble? Maybe that was what Randall had fallen into from the very beginning. Something so cliched as stupid blue eyes.
No, that wasn't right though.
Sullivan was much more than that. He was strong but gentle, fierce but only because he was protective...but mostly he was just so kind.
Randall never could, (and he still couldn't) get his sharp teeth around it.
"Sullivan," he murmured. "you're..."
It was infuriating and admirable.
"You're..."
Plainly put, Randall couldn't see anything in that furball other than a big ass ball of perfection.
"What?" Sulley's eyes had widened.
"..idiotic."
Randall closed his eyes and bowed his head, letting it drop against the small comfort which was Sulley's chest. It wasn't affection so much as defeat. And wasn't he so used to that? His stomach felt sick and Sulley was stroking his back gently.
"Charming as ever." Sulley said.
"I'm always very charming,"
"And deluded,"
Randall sighed against him, and lifted his head slowly to look at the other.
"Call me crazy...but isn't this the part where we're supposed to kiss and run away?"
Sulley's smile faltered.
"I'm sorry,"
And yet he pulled his arm the rest of the way around Randall anyway, hugging him , like that might help or something.
Randall rested his head on his warm shoulder.
"It wouldn't have worked out, anyway. All this fur. Like i can be bothered to do that much vacuuming."
"It is a big job," Sulley agreed, then tilted his head. "You did good today. I'm proud."
"Please. I don't need a gold star or anything."
"I mean it," Sulley pulled back, looking at Randall seriously. "I mean it, Randall," he repeated. "you're one of my best friends."
Randall smiled weakly.
"Pfft. I am?"
"Of course. Don't forget it."
Randall's smirk threatened to smile. He didn't forget those kind of things.
"Why're you even helping me? I hate you."
They were sitting in the dark of Sulley's apartment, and Randall was bruised and hurting because of ridiculous shovel related incidents. Sulley had a box full of band aids and a worried face, but Randall just wanted to be left alone.
"Just keep still. I'm trying to-."
"Don't even try it, you-aaargh!"
"I told you it'd hurt if you moved."
Sulley looked upset, and Randall didn't want to care.
"I told you not to touch!"
"Randall, I just want to help!"
Randall looked at him darkly. "Why?"
"I just thought you could use a friend!"
"You thought I...we're not..."
The dark apartment was less oppressive in that moment, and Sulley's face easier to see.
Randall suddenly noticed Sulley's eyes, glossier than usual.
"You gonna keep still while I do this?" the bigger monster asked, patiently.
"...Okay."
Randall rubbed his eyes. "Hey, I got you guys a toaster. You know I'm the best friend,"
Sulley grinned, but clasped Randall's hand in his own. "I'm real happy you came to the wedding, Randall."
Randall stared at his hand. "you want me to puke on your words or the cocktails? Cos I swear it'll be one or the other in a second."
Sulley rolled his eyes at the sky. "You're hopeless,"
"Yeah, well. You're way worse."
Randall looked sideways, then suddenly noticed a figure waving in the entrance hall. It was Chrissie.
Sulley noticed her in the same moment.
"Go on, stupid," Randall told him before he could say anything. "Let me puke in peace."
Sulley stood up slowly, his paws lingering on Randall's hands.
"You gonna be okay?"
"No. But go on." Randall grinned spitefully, hoping Sullivan could see the joke for once.
Sulley smiled and then said "thank you," for some reason. "bye, Randall,"
"Seeya, throwrug."
Randall wanted to wave him off, and say something else, but it wasn't coming to him anymore. The only thing he could seem to do was watch Sulley's back as it became smaller and smaller, before eventually fading back into the party.
Randall turned away, looked absently at the fountain. It wasn't so much a pretty feature right now as it was a reminder he needed to use the rest room soon.
He slumped down on it with a sigh. That could wait. His reflection in the fountain rippled, distorting whatever he looked like, and that was good. Randall didn't particularly want to see himself right now.
He shut his eyes briefly, and Sulley's eyes were suddenly re imagined in his mind. It was such a warm feeling.
Damn, he'd passed up so much.
"Kinda breaks your heart, doesn't it?" he muttered to his reflection.
The ripples had spread out, and Randall's face looked back up at him clearly now. There was the hint of a smile there.
He yanked his tie undone, and tossed it far across the lawn.
"Good riddance,"
It was a start, if nothing else.
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A/N: downer ending? rambling nonsense yes. the flashbacks and actual past between Randall and Sul (and other monsters) is intentionally ambiguous. i feel like i want to flesh these things out some more one day. got a bit too sentimental there (sorry i tried to rein it in). also i'm asking for half a break because i haven't written even a drabble for almost a year hah. have mercy.