Drabble 2(ish)
A/N: This was more or less a running joke, I'd been threatening to write Simon/Robin drunken pity sex for weeks to annoy Rant and ended up finally fulfilling the threat with the first chunk of this; the second was an actual drabble that came a few days later. Non-Canon…
~xXx~
Simon laid Robin down heavily on the couch. His eyes were closed but he was still awake. Simon had never seen him totally paralytic before. It scared Simon to see him that low. He swept Robin's dark hair away from his face with the palm of his hand and thought just for a moment he saw a flicker of a smile cross his face. It made him repeat the motion, the feel of his hair against Simon's palm bringing them both nostalgia and a yearning for the times they shared together. Slowly Simon stood up but Robin's eyes opened.
"Don't stop," he said quietly.
"What?" Simon asked, frowning slightly.
"I liked it," Robin told him.
"You've had too much to drink," Simon warned him.
"So have you," Robin pointed out.
Simon hesitated for a moment, feeling his head spinning a little. Robin wasn't far off the mark.
"Not as much as you," he pointed out. He saw Robin turn his head away a little, in embarrassment and disappointment. Simon felt a very strange sensation inside of him. Butterflies that rose from his stomach to his chest, making it hard to breathe. 'Fuck', he thought to himself, 'I thought I'd gotten over this. I thought I'd gotten over him.' But as he found his hand reaching back to travel through Robin's dark locks again he knew he was only lying to himself.
X
The worst part for Simon was knowing that one of them was going to regret it in the morning and it wasn't going to be him. He'd known full well it was the alcohol talking. He'd known full well that Robin was desperate and depressed, and Simon's efforts at talking him out of it were minimal.
Staring at Robin's naked, defined torso in the darkened room he could just make out a hint of ink across his shoulder blade. He didn't know Robin any more. Not really. It was almost like making love to a stranger.
Making love. That was a lie for a start. There was no love there, only pity. Pity on both sides. Robin was still cut up with guilt and felt sorry for solitary loner Simon while Simon had watched Robin work himself into a terrible state over Kim's perceived rejection.
One minute they'd been ripping at each other's clothes and grasping at each other's bodies. The next, Robin was crying himself to sleep.
Now Simon was the one feeling guilty. And, as he crawled from the bed to curl up on the couch, he'd never felt more alone either.