VesselOfPower
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Summary
Fuck it.
Gaz slipped between the small space between Price's knees and the edge of the table, slowly shimmying across. Gaz could feel Price pause. He could practically imagine the comical slow look away from his phone to where Gaz was slowly moving to avoid stepping on his toes. The weight of the stare.
He'll blame the alcohol tomorrow even if he very much isn't that drunk.
"Fuckin' hell."
Gaz jumped at the thick Scottish accent behind him, and perhaps he was that drunk because his sense of balance escaped him. He knew he was falling before he did, and it seemed so did Price. Quick as lightning, Price moved his cigar out of the way and used his free hand (when did he put his phone down?) To grab Gaz around the waist to ease him down into his lap.Or....
Gaz accidentally sits in Price's lap at the bar. They have sex because of it. And Gaz wants cake.