Title: Summer skin
Pairing: GermanyxGreece
Rating: T, for whatever reason
Genre: Random, really
Author's notes: drunken men taking advantage of other drunken men in a beautiful town in Greece where I once spent few days =D
Author's name: Cona
«The water's warm and children swim
And we frolicked about in our summer skin»
Death Cab For Cutie, Summer skin
The world is a funny blur of colors and distant street lamps that insist on swinging wherever he looks. But, if he closes his eyes, he feels like he is falling in a bottomless pit.
Getting smashed is such a wonderful thing.
He has to lean on the wall for support for a moment. He is alone now – all of his companions lost somewhere along the way, or still in the bar – he doesn't care. He doesn't need anyone's company now – he is blissfully drunk, the night is warm, he feels calmer than he's felt in ages, he's on vacation, and the beach is near, and somewhere close to the beach is a hotel they are staying in.
It'd be nice to sleep now, but he finds himself taking his shoes off and walking towards the sea. The beach is rocky, and isn't really the most comfortable thing to walk barefoot on, but he's drunk and in a good mood. The waves whisper softly and he lets them wash over his sore feet.
* * *
He wakes up choking on a salty water. It burns his throat and he throws it up and there are hands on his shoulders.
There are hands on his shoulders.
It's alright, someone says, it's alright. Hands hold him as he coughs up more water. Hands drag him towards the shore – when did he end up in the sea anyway? – and he lets himself be pulled.
Can you stand, can you walk, and he nods weakly. Hands guide him and they reach the beach, where his clothes is lying, and upon seeing that, he realizes he's naked.
Come, sit.
He's unusually compliant. And cold and wet. And everything is spinning.
Just how much did you drink?, and he sees it's Heracles. Heracles looking at him worriedly, handing him his clothes. Ludwig, are you alright?
Not really, he mumbles.
But he's getting better, gradually – the spinning slows down and he's not cold anymore. Night is warm, and he is young and Heracles offers to take him to hotel. He refuses, saying he's fine now and would like to stay here for a while. Heracles sits next to him and they gaze at the sea.
Thank you, and Heracles smiles and shakes his head as if it's nothing. What kind of host would I be if I didn't take care of my guests? (and his smile is sly and gaze turns just a bit predatory as he moves closer).
Ah, yes, they are in Greece this year.
Greece is beautiful, really; the mountains, and olive trees, and ruins of time long gone but not forgotten, and music and taste of air and food and ouzo and people and these dark, pretty, pretty eyes of a man sitting next to him, who is watching him through half-lidded eyes and before he knows it, they are kissing and his hands travel to rest themselves in Heracles's messy hair.
The night is warm, he is young, they are young, they are beautiful, and he finds himself wanting it (it's been such a long time, and he doesn't remember ever being this spontaneous), so when he feels Heracles's tongue on his neck, he pulls them down and starts taking their clothes off.
At dawn, they find their way back to hotel, and matress feels so much better than rocks against his backs.