D is for Drunk

Both of them, quite drunk.

After such a performance, it was only natural that they would celebrate their achievement; appreciative audience members were eager to buy them each a shot or two (or three).

Timmy had paced himself, as usual, but Russell...ah, yes, Russell, giddy with laughter already and not yet stopping with the liquid enhancement.

Timmy knew he was in for a long night.

When they had first sat down at the bar, all smiles and giggles, overwhelmed on the high of their impromptu duet so well-received, Russell had been the first to order drinks...something heavier than Timmy would have liked, but then he let it pass this time. Why not live a little?

It was only a few minutes later that reality had hit home for Timmy; the original target of his serenade came wandering up to him, and he, having practically forgotten his entire goal this evening, was surprised at how surprised he was to find her standing beside him.

"Oh! Oh, Katie, my goodness, did you...did you like-"

"Timmy, I had no idea!"

Timmy smiled, relieved that his message had come across loud and clear.

"But it's so obvious now. I mean, that was all pretty weird, I don't get why you wanted me to know so badly, but...I hope you and Russell will be very happy together." She offered Timmy a soft pat upon a leg before wandering away, leaving Timmy stunned speechless.

Before he could follow her, before he could be put out at all by the utter absurdity of what had just happened, Russell had plunked another drink before him.

"Chug-a-lug, my man!"

It just kept happening. Random strangers approached. "You make a cute couple." "How long have you been together?" "I didn't know you guys were dating."

"We're not!" Timmy refuted each time, feeling in great need of another swallow of alcohol, but no matter. The comments were mostly in jest, he was certain; this helped a little...

But Russell was apparently too drunk already to offer his rebuttals, much to Timmy's dismay.

Well, that was then, this was now. Both drunk, the bar far behind them, the men practically collapsed their way inside Russell's apartment.

Each tangle of leg, each trip over nothing caused a giggle and a "shh" from the two of them, as if they would wake whoever might chance hear them in the empty apartment.

"Let's get you to bed," Timmy offered.

Russell looked to Timmy with a raised brow. "Mmm...well, aren't you a tease? Take you up on that if I thought you meant it."

Timmy sighed out a bit. Oh, here we go...the same routine, every time he accompanied a drunken Mr. Dunbar home. Hit on as if he were a female companion. Lovely.

Tonight, however, was a touch different: tonight, Timmy was a touch inebriated in return.

"Never on a first date, sir." He shot a crooked smile. "What kind of a common whore do you take me for?"

Russell's jaw dropped solidly before he broke out in a cackle of a laugh. "What kind of-! Oh my god, dude. Oh, my god! Why don't you drink more?! You're hilarious!"

"Not that funny," Timmy shook his head. "Now. It's late, it's been lovely, but I want to go home."

"That's what she said. Is that was she said? I think that's what she said."

Timmy hoisted a finger in the direction of the bedroom.

"I mean, I've heard her say that..."

Timmy walked past Russell, snatching up his arm along the way, leading him slowly in the direction of the bedroom. "To bed."

"Is this what you're like with women? You can tell me. Are they into that, like, you've got the nerd thing going and then all of a sudden you turn around and you're like, 'get in my bed, NOW!' And you just rip off their clothes, right? Bet you're wild in the sack..."

"And I would tell you about my sexual endeavors why, sir?"

"Tell you about mine all the time."

"Yes, I bleach my brain regularly."

"Bleach your...!" Russell started in laughing again. Laughter that was cut off shortly by a shove from Timmy through a door.

"There, the bedroom. We're in your bedroom, fair enough? I'm going to go now, and-" But Timmy hesitated, eyes closing down hard, legs nearly folding in on themselves.

"You okay, dude?"

"Just a touch dizzy..."

"You need to sit down, you gonna be all right?" There was genuine concern suddenly in Russell's voice, and Timmy strained opening his eyes to look at him. The concern was on his face, as well, but Timmy declined the offer, approaching Russell on wobbling legs.

It was his job to ensure Russell's safety, not the other way around. But then, of course, his job description really didn't entail accompanying home a drunken Russell Dunbar at all...certainly not all the way into his bedroom...

There were certain things Timmy Patel told himself in specific instances to keep from going insane.

Or, perhaps, to keep a particular variety of feelings at bay.

But whatever thoughts Timmy was thinking now as he approached Russell were suddenly replaced by the rambling of a drunken man.

"You know what, Katie's too good for you, anyway."

Timmy paused a moment to sneer in Russell's direction.

"No, I...wait. Too good for her, you're WAY too good for her, dude."

"Ah, yes...well...thank you."

"Yeah, man, who needs that stuck up bitch, anyway?"

"She thought we were gay," Timmy mumbled, pulling Russell's arm about his neck and beginning the walk towards his bed.

"Pft! Ha, that's good. Well I mean, I'm not, obviously you are."

Timmy rolled his eyes lightly.

"But hey, bet I'd treat you a hell of a lot better than that skank tank, if you were my man I would, uh...breakfast in bed, every day."

"Food poisoning."

"Hand-written love notes."

"Do you know how to write?"

"And aaalllll the sex."

"Venereal disease."

Russell scoffed heavily. "You're so mean, you're like, the worst gay lover I've ever had."

With this Timmy released Russell to sit upon the side of the bed. "Well, I do aim to please, sir."

"More promises you don't intend to keep." As Russell gripped the edge of the bed to keep himself upward, his look was a touch too drunkenly seductive for Timmy's fancy, who aimed to turn, but the dizzy spell returned.

His legs nearly gave way, and he placed a hand to Russell's chest, steadying himself.

"Oh? Change your mind?" asked Russell with a chuckle.

When all at once Timmy toppled, his head spinning. His feet failed him. He fell forward.

Timmy felt every inch of his legs fizzle out, and his hands grasped futilely at the air as he felt the weight of his body give in, collapsing against the bed.

But then, the bed was very much occupied.

He had collapsed square against Russell, sending them both flat upon the bed. Russell, who grunted mildly in shock of the sudden physical assault...until he looked up, finding Timmy's face.

Finding Timmy's lips. Very close to his, breath escaping near enough to reach his own.

For a time there were no movements, both men in a stunned silence.

Russell felt suddenly very warm.

From...from the alcohol.

Timmy quickly realized his predicament and aimed to right himself, but there came a dizzying heat. New. Strange.

From the alcohol. Of course.

He couldn't move.

Russell attempted to laugh off the current situation. LOL, guys bein' guys, we're sooo drunk! Doing so only cemented the fact that the men were indeed pressed very near together; their chests lunged closer.

The laughter from Russell's breath caught in Timmy's mouth.

Why had neither of them moved, yet?

Timmy's leg had landed somehow between the legs of the man beneath him, sandwiched in a most peculiar tangle of appendages.

And in this moment both men's heads raced.

'What the fuck,' thought Russell, 'go back down, we don't come up for Timmy!'

'He has an erection,' thought Timmy. 'Don't mention his erection. Well why WOULD you mention his erection. Oh my god, do YOU have an erection?! Get him off, Timmy...no, no, you get off, you're on top. Wait... NO! What are you thinking, STOP THINKING! Stupid, drunken brain!'

'Man, what's he doing with his face...oh, my god, I've never really seen his...eyes this close before...whoa, they're like, super brown...his...skin looks really soft... DOWN! I told you to go down, that's like, the opposite of down! Why do you never listen to me?!'

Timmy's voice emerged finally, cracked. "Well, it's been a...lovely evening, I..." Words from struggling lips; painfully near Russell's. "I should get off- b-be off...on my way...home, my way...where I live."

Russell found his eyes closing down; the extended heat of Timmy's breath against his face was not helping to curb his erection.

No cutting corners. A simple anatomical response, of course, like, he was turned on and stuff because pft, get him in bed, touch his dick, get turned on, it had nothing to do with Timmy.

'That's the story. I'm sticking to it.'

"I don't think you should leave, Timmy."

Timmy pushed himself up slightly, and chanced a meeting with Russell's eyes. Doing so forced their legs to collide a touch, brushing Russell's cock in the process. Russell regrettably winced. Timmy did his best to overlook this fact.

He did his best as well to overlook Russell's eyes attempting to travel downward out of curiosity, to assure himself of the fact that he was not the only man in the room unduly aroused in this moment. A small flick of the eyes. But enough to confirm his suspicions.

'Damn, he's packing heat, it's gotta be bigger than mine. Maybe I could have him whip it out, we could compare dicks. That's guy stuff, right, that's stuff guys do?'

"Sir, I really..."

"Stay here for just a minute, get your sea legs back. But, uh...but over..." Russell pointed above his head.

And Timmy carefully, very carefully, picked himself up; he untangled his legs most delicately from Russell's, but in such a drunken state, these things are easier said than done.

He ended up feeling more of Russell this evening than he cared to admit.

The edge of the bed helped him brace his way around to the other side, where finally he laid lengthwise, very near the edge. But not before grabbing a pillow, placing it nonchalantly over...a certain physical region.

When Timmy looked to his side, he found Russell in precisely the same position. Pillow and all.

"So..." Russell braved words. Timmy held no reply. "Uh...hey, we really rocked that stage, tonight."

"Yes," came Timmy's curt reply, eyes locking to the ceiling.

"They uh, they loved us up there, huh? We're a pretty great team, when we...when we wanna be...teamin' up, and stuff..."

"Yes."

Russell took a very deep breath. His eyes landed on Timmy. In his bed. The alcohol bubbles tiptoed throughout his brain, giggling like little schoolgirls. You know what you want, Russell...! Tell him, tell him, tellll himmmm!

"Y'know, sometimes guys do stuff with other guys."

"What?" shot Timmy, glaring back at Russell.

"What's what?" Russell returned. "Go to sleep, you're delusional, you're hearing things, you should rest or something, I'm just...I'm gonna..." And Russell took to his feet. Shaking, wobbling feet, gripping random objects for support as he went, focused only on escaping the heat of the bedroom.

When he was gone, Timmy let out a very long, very deep breath, eyes returning to the ceiling. He patted the pillow above his crotch nervously, waiting for his erection to subside, not really knowing what else to do.

Timmy had been sabotaged this evening; instead of ending up in bed with the woman of his dreams, he'd ended up in bed with Russell Dunbar. Russell had a habit, it would seem, of sabotaging many of Timmy's attempts with women. A most curious fact.

If Timmy hadn't been so terribly drunk, this might have all meant something to him.

As he pulled himself from bed this evening, leaving the bedroom and walking his way past Russell, who pretended to sleep upon the living room sofa, there was only one fact to which Timmy could rest most assured.

Never again would he allow himself to enter Russell Dunbar's bedroom.