Accents 'n Tits
Alan as he put the mug on down the side table of his room at The Frosts Pub & Inn he still loathed warm beer. Frost, frost, it was in the damn name yet the drinks were never a little bit cold, not even a smidgen. How Thomas could stand to drink them he didn't know. Well, habit, of course. Firelight flickered over that ivory-skinned face, deepening those dark sapphire eyes and causing those wayward onyx curls to gleam. His eye much appreciated the stray drop of beer that was sliding down Thomas's bottom lip, he wanted to lick it.
Thomas suddenly slapped the table and exclaimed, "Tits !"
The, "Ti" said in that posh accent, but the, "Ts" slid to Thomas's real accent, the far rougher Cumbrian, causing him to nearly spill his drink from laughter. He just wanted to hear a drunken Thomas swear or something because when his accent started sliding it was always hilarious.
A moment later, Alan's brows furrowed, "Wait, what kinda tits ? Bird Tits, Blue-footed Boobies, or tits tits ?" He contemplated it while taking another sip of his beer.
"I don' give a bleedin' fuck, Alan, its tits. Tits is tits, unless their Tits. Y-ya know wha' they do down i-in New Zealand, Alfan ?"
"No-o, wha' ?"
"Sheep tits."
Perplexedly he echoed, "Sheep tits ?"
Thomas nodded sagely and waved a hand. "Yeah, me 'n Lucille, so there we are jus' minding our own business when we comes across this bloke 'n 'e's got 'is 'ead stuck unner this sheep 'n 'e's sucking on its tits. Ehehe, maybe he was trying ta find 'is brain. I dunno would a brain fit through a tit ?"
Thomas was 31 and been to Scotland, France, Italy, America, he was supposed to know stuff like that. Meanwhile here he was at 22 and the only places he'd ever been were America and England, so he muttered, "N'it was a Boobie it could. Sheep they 'ave small brainds, sheep 're stupid bastads. One of 'em headbutted me once, less it were a goat, ah, ewe cares let them Newsies fuck sheep, they des-deserve it. Fuck sheep." He and Thomas blinked at each other then just started laughing.
It was then that he got up, slamming a knee into the table, "Ow, fuck." and accidentally spilled both their drinks while he fell over. Oak floor glittered in the firelight while Thomas plashed through the spilt beer to try to pull him up. Of course, trust drunken in-coordination to make Thomas fall on him too.
Pretty eyes briefly drifting before they focused and Thomas grinned, "Ello, 'andsome, fall 'ere often ?"
"N-uh, not really. You ?"
"Could stand it again, course s'at's if I could stand at'll."
Really he would've been content just to have Thomas lay on him all night, but for the drinks. "You kin stand later, one of us's got ta clean the mess up first." He managed to make himself push Thomas off, stumbled to the bathroom to get a towel to drop on the floor then walked over to the bed. Just before he fell in he noticed that Thomas'd pulled his soaked clothes off. A moment's appreciation of the lithe body was all he had because his eyes decided then was the perfect time to drift shut. It was such a shame, he'd hadn't even gotten to lick a tit. Luckily, after a very thorough morning bath that and much more would be remedied.