The next thing Sonny's clearly aware of, a band is blasting in his mind. He's still lying face down, but the Sahara desert has somehow made its way to his mouth, and his tongue has developed some furry film over it.
Some cruel bastard has apparently decided he's not suffering enough, and is pounding on his shoulder.
"Jesus, Mary, Joseph and St. Peter."
"They can't help you now. Roll over nice and easy. Don't try to open your eyes yet."
"I'm dying. Call my mom."
"I'm here. It's Will." Gently, with some amusement, Will eases Sonny over, supporting his head. "Swallow."
Sonny chugs, promptly chokes, feels something disgusting slide over the film on his tongue, through the desert and down his throat. In hi defense, he does try to push the glass away, and opens his eyes.
If anyone ever asks, he'll spend the rest of his life denying the sound that comes out of his mouth in any way shape or form sounds like a full on squeal.
Will clicks his tongue. "Told you you didn't want to open your eyes."
"Eyes? What eyes? They've evaporated into dust."
"Keep drinking."
"Go away, go as far away as you possibly can, and take that crap with you."
"Is that any way to talk to the only guy that's sitting by your deathbed?"
Sonny slides back down, dragging a pillow over his face. "How'd you know I'm dying?"
"Abi called me."
"So when's Chad's funeral?"
"Lucky for him, he's marrying a woman that has a huge level of understanding, and an awesome sense of humor. How many bars did you guys hit?"
"All of them."
"That explains why you have lipstick on your cheek."
"I do not." But when he reaches under the pillow, he feels it. "Oh God. Please just put me out of my misery now."
"...Okay." Will applies just enough pressure to get Sonny to throw his hands up and shove him away.
Sonny's face is completely flushed, bloodshot eyes just a little bit crazy. "Not funny. At all."
"Had to look at it from where I'm standing." And Will laughs. Sonny's still fully clothed, the wrinkled, booze soaked shirt half tucked, half not, eyes narrowed to a painful squint.
"You'll feel better in no time--not the greatest, but a lot better. You'll have a shower and some food, on top of that concoction I just made you drink, you'll get all the feeling back in your nether regions in about...two, three hours max."
Someone's taken care of the nasty film on his tongue. Not entirely sure if that's a good thing. "What did you put in that thing you made me drink?"
"You don't want to know, but I dd lace it with four Excedrin, so don't take anything else for a while. I'm gonna fix you some light eggs and toast."
"Why?"
"Because you look pitiful." WIll starts to kiss Sonny, then jerks back, waving a hand in between them. "Jesus Christ, you really need to do something about that breath before someone dies from it."
"Who asked you, anyway?"
"And make that shower as long as possible. You smell like you spent the night in a bathroom." Will pushes to his feet. "How come nobody's here?"
"In preparation for a hangover, I told anyone who showed up here before 4 in the afternoon is liable to be shot."
Will checks his watch. "Still got a few hours."
"If I have to move one thing out of bed, I'm getting the gun myself. I'll feel like shit for shooting you, but right now I'd actually do it."
"I'll just be in the kitchen." Will cocks his head. "If you bring a gun, you'd damn well be sure you know how to use it."
"You trying to say something?" Sonny calls after him, then immediately regrets raising his voice. Holding his head so it doesn't move, he carefully eases himself out of bed.
Will's laughing all the way down stairs, laughing even harder when he hears a door slam. He's gonna be sorry he did that, Will thinks, then stops, looking back when he hears two more slams.
Ah shit...well, Will knows you can't threaten to shoot a ghost.
"Make all the noise you want." Will says as he heads back towards the kitchen. "Doesn't bother me."
The library doors shake as he passes them. Will iglores them; if a drunk guy doesn't scare him off, a bad tempered ghost sure as hell won't.
He looked so adorable, Will thinks as he hunts for coffee beans. Pale, and gay, and pissed off. And with that silly lipstick planted on his face.
Men probably lose half their brain cells when they go to strip clubs. Put them together with a mix of men and women willing to take their clothes off, and they all have the same common sense of cottage cheese.
Will grinds the beans, setting the coffee to brew. He's mixing eggs in a bowl when it suddenly occurs to him this is the first time he's ever made breakfast for a man he didn't sleep with the night before.
Ain't it funny how life works like that?
What's even funnier is how he's humming in a kitchen that belongs to a pissed off, foul smelling, hungover guy that had just snapped at him. Completely unlike me, Will thinks. What the hell's going on here?
He'd been so touched by Abi's cheerful amusement over Chad's condition, and now here Will is, doing the same with Sonny.
Will looks out the window at the garden that used to be wild and abandoned only a few months prior. Now it's blooming beautifully, with new life, fresh green sticking out.
Looks like he's gone and done it after all. Gone and let Sonny sneak up inside him, underneath all the locks and bolts.
Will Horton is in love with Sonny Kiriakis.
God knows he doesn't want to be--for Sonny's just as much, if not more than, his own.
Sonny has managed to dust off his dreams he'd fought so hard to push away. The ones highlighted by love and hope and trust. They're so beautifully polished now, they're looking him right in the face. So sparkly, they're blinding.
And scaring the crap out of him.
Married. The man wants to marry him, and Will firmly means in not making promises unless you've proven beyond a shadow of a doubt you have every intention of keeping them.
Does he? Will he?
"I know I want to." Will says quietly, out loud. "I definitely want to, for him."
As he speaks, a cupboard door flies open. A mug shoots out and smashes at his feet.
Will jumps back, heart pounding as the shards land by his ankles. Bitterly, he stares down at the blood leaking out of the tiny cuts.
"I already did, didn't I? And you're not happy." Bowl still clutched tightly in his hand, he spins around. "You'll do anything to stop us from being together. But we'll just see who's gonna win this battle, won't we? Just wait and see."
Purposely, Will reaches down for one of the pieces, then runs it over his thumb. As the blood leaks out, he holds up his hand, letting it drip. "I'm not weak like he was. If I take the love offered, if I promise to give it back, it's for keeps."
