Really, it's a straight forward fic...straight forward if you tilt your head at a forty-five degree angle and spin you might be able to see what's really happening...cause it's all about alcohol...and subtext, which put together...well put together they're just...alcohol and subtext...which is supposed to be profound...somehow.

So straight on it might look like a Dorian x Tom but when you look at it right (i.e. read directions above) than it's actually a Rodney x Tom. This has no time setting and follows the movie as far as the characters names go but other than that...it's what you see...a short one shot...and a shot's an alcoholic drink of some kind so you see? It really IS all about subtext and alcohol.

I don't own the characters you see displayed (tortured)before you.

There were days when Tom wondered if his life revolved around alcohol. Everyone on the bloody ship seemed to have a preference. It made him feel young. Younger than he wanted to feel; around Dorian or Rodney. Especially Rodney. Which was probably backwards in some odd way that transcended the fact that he was an "unofficial" member on the "League of Extra-Ordinary Gentlemen" in which there was an invisible thief, an immortal charmer, a not-quiet-schizophrenic doctor, and (ironically enough) a vampire. Which, when you thought about it, wasn't so odd in light of the others, but that she was a woman in the "blah blah blah of blah-Ordinary Gentlemen". But Tom figured it was just a name. After all, Mina had to be one of the most lady-like females he'd ever encountered. Despite her thirst for blood. And even then he'd met some females back home that made you wonder if Mina's condition wasn't that uncommon among her sex.

But he was thinking about alcohol. Tom had decided that he had a penchant for scotch, and that Rodney liked it too was a bonus, because they could drink it together and have fun.

Standing at the window of Dorian's room, with his forehead on the glass, there was a whisper in the back of Tom's mind that was telling him that there was something wrong with that

Because Tom didn't like brandy.

And if he'd said it out of the blue no one would care, but that his lover liked brandy…well, therein lay the problem. Or not.

"What's wrong with scotch? Why can't he stop drinking that horrible stuff and buy a decent bottle of scotch?"

Again with the whispering, only, now it was clearer and he couldn't deny it. He wanted Dorian to buy him a good bottle of scotch...because he wanted Rodney to be happy to get it and share it with him. Which, Tom tried to convince himself, was rational as it was obvious that Dorian hated scotch.

Almost as much as Tom hated brandy.

In fact, he'd damn near sold one of Dorian's more expensive brands just two days ago to restock Rodney's depleting supplies. Because they'd been drinking together almost every night in the past two weeks. And Rodney's birthday was coming up in another two days. Which reminded him…

Tom turned away from the scene outside the window and looked to the table sitting innocently bolted to the floor of the room. A decanter of brandy sat on it, glittering in the artificial lighting. It was one of Dorian's best.

Tom sighed and walked over and grabbed it by the neck and hesitantly took the top off and sniffed…and gagged as the fumes…(they might as well have been toxic) burned down his nose and throat.

He clapped the glass top back on, holding the bottle away at arm's length and stared at it, narrowing his eyes when light bounced off the faceted glass. He stared for a moment, turning it in his hand, as if he could somehow visually see the appeal Dorian saw in its poisonous contents. He was concentrating so hard he almost missed the chime and Nimo's accented voice echoing through the halls. Tom glanced back out the window and then at the open door leading out to the hallway. And he walked out with the decanter in his hands, trying to be discreet and unnoticeable. After all, it wouldn't do to be caught stealing from his own lover's horde of alcohol. Especially when Tom only planned to sell it. But he wasn't really thinking about that.

As Tom stepped onto the port and off the ship, he started whistling innocently. He would had sold the brandy earlier, when he'd first learned of Rodney's upcoming birthday, except that he'd had to wait for them to hit land. It was the only reason the bottle had been sitting on the table for two days.

Because he really hated brandy and really loved scotch.