Okay, I have to admit that writing angst is pretty much my comfort zone. So I'm attempting to step out of said comfort zone by writing something semi-humorous. Let me know what you think.
Setting: Takes place shortly after Day 2, right after Jack is released from the hospital and Tony just offered him his job as head of field ops. Tony and Jack set themselves up for the worst hangover of their lives.
Summary: Two men, two egos, and a whole lot of beer
Disclaimer: Wasn't intended to be slash, although it could be if you like. ;)
It was his seventh bottle. Eighth maybe? Jack Bauer got up and despite his inability to think straight, picked up his car keys and headed for the door.
"Jack." He ignored it. "Jack!" It came a little louder this time. He finally turned around.
"What?" His words slurred together and he hadn't even realized exactly how drunk he was until then.
"Where you goin'?" Tony sounded worse than Jack did. And then it has occurred to him finally exactly how drunk Tony was, which was probably a bit more than Jack was.
"Home." But Jack simply stood there.
"No you're not," Tony was lying the sofa in his new office now and Jack was standing in the doorway. He began to feel dizzy, perhaps he shouldn't have had that last bottle….
"Yes I am." It was a bold-faced lie. But he wasn't going to let Tony that he was enjoying himself for the first time in a long time. Although he wouldn't give Tony so much credit to say that it was due to his inane anecdotes and drunken rambling. He could only assume that the enormous alcohol consumption had something to do with it.
"When did everyone else leave?" Tony asked, ignoring Jack's claim.
"Two hours ago," Jack mumbled, sitting back down on the couch where Tony lay. "Move!" he grumbled, pushing Tony over to make room for him.
"Two hours? We've been here for that long?"
"Yup…" Jack turned his attention back to George's old portable TV which was set on top of the desk next to the beer bottles, which Tony had turned on to the Cubs game a while ago.
As Tony wordlessly got up for another beer and Jack took that as an opportunity to stretch himself out on the couch. "Cubs suck!" he proclaimed like a five-year-old.
"No they don –" Tony stumbled and fell onto his desk. Jack burst out laughing.
"Yes, they do. They're stupid!" Jack took another sip of beer, God, how bottles had he had now? This definitely couldn't be good for his heart.
"Shut up. You're stupid. And my Cubs are better than your stupid Dodgers." With that Tony stuck his tongue out and reclaimed his rightful spot on the sofa. "Move over!"
"I bet my Dodgers could cream your Cubs anytime." Jack mimicked Tony and stuck out his tongue.
"I think being in the hospital messed up your brain." Tony gave Jack a shove trying to get the remote out of his hand.
"Hey, man, my heart stopped, you're stopping to show me symp… spymth… whas' the word? Ah, spymathy!"
Tony snorted. "Spymathy my ass! Serves you right, you ankle-twisting-protocol-breaker."
Jack rolled over in laughter until he rolled off the sofa and onto the floor. "You're jus' bitter 'cause your girlfriend got to see me take you down. You're a protocol-ass-kissing-wuss."
"Ankle-twisting-protocol-breaker!"
"Protocol-ass-kissing-wuss!"
"Shut up, Jack. At least I have a girlfriend!"
"Yeah, 'nd she chose me over you, r'member?"
"Go to hell," Tony murmured and lied back on the couch, taking up the entire space. "At least I got her to kiss me. You got nuttin' from that Waren girl."
"Yeah, well… I still twisted your ankle, you protocol-ass-kissing wuss."
"Now you're just being childish." The irony from that statement hadn't hit them quite, and probably wouldn't until the next morning, that is if they even remember the conversation they had. Or even where they were. Or what they did. Or who they were…
A heavy silence had fallen upon them as Jack lay on the floor, parallel to Tony who was stretched out on the couch, both of them grinning like idiots for an inexplicable reason. Jack was the first to break the silence.
"You think she likes me?"
"Huh?"
"Kate. You think she likes me?"
"She the whiny sister, or the terrorist?"
Jack ignored that. "I dunno, I mean one minute we're all like… you know… and the next we're all like... not…"
Tony turned around and gave Jack a funny face. "Too much beer for you." He replied snatching the beer out of his hand and taking a sip. Although he really couldn't care less if Jack had too much or not. He was just too lazy to get up and get himself another bottle.
"Do you like her?" Tony asked.
"I dunno, maybe," Jack shrugged.
"Then she likes you," Tony response was muffled by him taking another sip of beer and talking at the same time.
Jack turned to his side to face Tony with hopeful eyes, "You really mean that?"
"Nah, man, I was just trying to get you to shut up. Pass me another beer."
Jack obliged, getting one for himself too, joining Tony on the couch as they both sat upright.
"Man, Kim's gonna have my ass for drinking this much."
This time it was Tony's turn to be serious, "You're lucky to have her."
"Who Kim? Yeah, I am. She's great. Although the fact that I bail her outta every damn thing she gets into, kinda copsenmates… er, whas the word?"
"Compemsnates." Tony replied, a little more drunk this time.
"Yeah, yeah, that. Compemsnates for it."
"Yeah, but at least you're not alone. I mean, after my sister died, I, I had no ones. Still have no ones."
"What about Michelle?"
"Eh, I dunno. I dunno what she wants, and if I can gives it to her."
"You can, Tony"
"Ya think?" Tony asked, with an optimistic voice.
"Nah, I was just spewin' crap."
Tony mumbled something in coherent then tried to stretch out onto the couch.
"Hey!"
"What? I have the broken ankle, so I get the couch."
"It's not broken." Jack replied vehemently, "And I was in the hopsitol for six weeks. My couch." And Jack struggled to push Tony off.
"Stop it! Hows 'bout I take half and you take half?"
Jack made a sour face but agreed reluctantly anyways. Both of them shifted and turned until they reached an awkward position and settled.
"Hey, Jack?" Tony mumbled, eyes closed, with a drunken, yet sleepy, voice.
"Mmmh?"
"I'm sorry 'bout Terri. I was there, I coulda done somethin' I'm sorry. I'm never gonna forgive myself. I wish I did do somethin' but I… I dunno. I'm sorry."
After a long silence, Jack responded. "It wasn't your fault." And with that, an odd kind of finality have marked the end of their conversation, and nothing else was need to be said.
It wasn't long after that, that sleep had overtaken the two men. Who are sharing a couch. Who swore that they'd never see each other again.
And tomorrow they'll go back to being just that. Two men, who are forced to work with each other and have no relationship otherwise. But they'll know, deep down inside, that their connection is their unspoken agreement.
And sometime between the mid morning conference and lunch time tomorrow, one of them will look back and think, that perhaps they had once been brothers. The similarity is too close to be coincidence. To think of all the things they both have: massive egos, same taste in beer, ridiculous taste in baseball teams, women they're pursuing.
But after recovering from their massive hangovers while packing up the next day, their share a glance part their separate ways.
That is, until the next time the Cubs play the Dodgers.
I hope that wasn't too horrible. Let me know! Please review