Work Text:
Sheriff Thompson is a raging alcohol and everyone in this town knows it. He may claim he needs the drink to shoot, but it’s just because without it he gets the shakes. He also turns into a complete tyrant if he doesn’t get his fix, which is something few have seen and no one wants to deal with.
“Hey barkeep!” the sheriff slurs, half slumped onto the bar. “Gimme another whiskey!”
The bartender looks over from wiping down glasses to give him a skeptical look. “Think you’ve had enough, don’t you?”
The arm darting out to grab him by the collar shouldn’t be surprising, but he flinches anyway. The sheriff’s visible eye is narrowed and burning a hole into his face. “Give. It. To. Me.”
Todd sighs and reaches up, gently prying Thompson’s fingers off before adjusting his shirt. Thompson’s arm falls onto the counter and stays there, apparently no longer worth the effort of holding it up. The sheriff stares at it like it’s somehow offended him. It might be a cute sight if it weren’t so damn sad. “Think that’s enough for one night, sheriff.”
“I! I’ll-mm-” Thompson sways a bit and belches before shoving a finger in the bartender’s face. “I’ll throw you in jail!”
He receives a pitying look in return and a pat on the hand. “How about you get some rest and worry about the jailin’ tomorrow, okay?” he asks softly, knowing full well that’s never going to happen. Someone had to tend to the saloon, after-all.
Thompson’s half-laying on the counter by this point, his eyes unfocused and head slowly bobbing. Todd looks around the empty saloon for a moment. It’s late, everyone else in the town is long asleep by now. Resigned to his fate, he walks around the bar and tries to hoist the sheriff off his barstool. He’s half dead weight, half drunken failing, and overall a huge pain in the ass. Todd did not sign on for this nonsense when he agreed to move to this town.
“’m not a baby, stupid!” The childish insult is quickly followed by Thompson tripping over his own feet.
Todd catches him easily, and wraps his arm around his waist, slinging the sheriff’s arm around his shoulder to bear his weight. “Let’s get you home.”
Getting flopped down unceremoniously on his bed apparently causes Sheriff Thompson to put up the best glare he can muster in his drunken state, but the bartender pays him no mind, choosing instead to balance the sheriff’s hat haphazardly on an end table and tug off his boots to throw them at the foot of the bed. He’s about to walk out, eager to get himself to sleep when he’s stopped by a hand on his arm. “Why you bein’ so nice to me?” Thompson demands.
“I’m just lookin’ out for ya, Sheriff.” Todd replies easily.
Thompson snorts, flopping back down. “’s stupid.”
“Rightly so,” Todd agrees, trying to walk away again only to find arms wrapped around his waist and a nose nuzzling against his spine. How the drunken man manages to move that fast will always be a mystery.
He gets pulled down onto the bed, Thompson now nuzzling against his neck and chin, causing gooseflesh to blossom across Todd’s skin. “Stay,” the sheriff whispers.
It’d be a lie to say the sheriff isn’t an attractive man, but Todd tries his darnedest to ignore it nonetheless. “Not sure that’d be appropriate.”
It earns him a half-laugh and another snort. “Ain’t nothin’ I care about.”
Heat explodes across Todd’s face when Thompson starts pressing gentle kisses to his neck and shoulders. He means to protest further but somehow ends up underneath the man on the bed. He pushes weakly at Thompson’s shoulders, trying very hard to ignore the tightness raising in his pants. The kisses are gradually turning into soft nips and licks against his exposed skin. “S-sheriff, I, uh,” he has to bit his lip to stifle a groan. “I think that’s enough.”
Thompson’s head snaps up from his ministrations, and his visible eye is blazing again. “Why?” he grits. Before Todd can gather a coherent enough reply, the sheriff’s expression melts and his head flops down onto Todd’s chest with a muttered, “’m sorry.”
He starts hiccups a couple of times, and Todd internally curses knowing his fate is sealed. He wraps his arms around the trembling man, awkwardly patting his shoulders. Thompson squeezes him tight and starts sobbing. The bartender sighs once more and runs his fingers through Thompson’s mussed up hair, which seems to finally calm him.
This isn’t the strangest thing to ever happen in this bandit-ridden town, but it’s certainly out of the ordinary. Not so much carrying the sheriff home of course, just… Everything else. Sleep doesn’t come easily, but once it does he’s pretty sure it’s the most restful he’s had in a fortnight or two.
“What the hell?” Not the nicest morning greeting, but probably well-warranted given the current situation.
“Ah, you’re awake.”
“The hell you doin’ in my bed?” He doesn’t necessarily sound angry, which is a blessing. Confusion can be a bit of curveball though.
Todd looks up into what he realizes is a wide, terrified eye and speaks as gently as he can. “You wanted me to stay?”
A blush blooms across the sheriff’s cheeks, which he tries to hide by turning around, but it doesn’t work so well once it reaches his ears. “The hell you talkin’ about? Get out’ve here!”
Smiling softly, Todd sits up fully and leans forward to rest a chin on his hand. “Sure that’s what you want?”
“I’ll nab you for tresspassin’ on my property!” his voice is a little shaky and he still won’t turn around.
“No you won’t,” Todd replies confidently, not offering any argument.
There’s a long pause. “I need a damn drink.”
“No you don’t.” His smiles growing wider, turning into a full-on grin when Thompson finally turns around with a scowl on his face.
“Yeah? What do I need then?” he snips.
“You need,” Todd starts, reaching out a hand. Thompson starts at it a moment before reluctantly stepping closer. “To come back to bed.”
The blush is still dusting his cheeks and it’s probably the cutest thing the barkeep’s ever seen. Thompson stares at him seriously for a moment before putting one knee on the mattress, then the other, eventually crawling his way up onto the bed fully. Todd eagerly wraps him up on his arms.
“I did somethin’ stupid last night didn’t I?” Thompson finally asks, a hint of shame coloring his words.
“Ain’t nothin’ stupider than we’re about to do anyway,” Todd grins, which earns him a dumbfounded look. He drinks it in for a moment before leaning forward to press a kiss to the corner of Thompson’s mouth. “What? I wasn’t about to take advantage of you like that, sheriff. You’re sober now, though.”
It takes a moment but soon an answering smile spreads across Sheriff Thompson’s face and he leans forward, recapturing the bartender’s lips. This was going to be a good day.