Chapter Text
Heinwald is drunk.
The party was in full swing, loud music and chatter filling the room with bits and pieces of cheerful laughter floating around.
And...Heinwald is drunk.
Was it because they solved a cold case where everyone had given up hope?
Was it because of the way the kids clung to his long, sagging coat with grateful tears and giggles when they ran back to stop the execution, sweaty but beaming?
Was it the look of pride Curran had when Hein turned to him with a blush on his face, holding onto a child’s hand?
Curran hoped it was him.
‘Curran, that made no sense.’ Hein’s soft, deep voice reminded him in his head.
He focused back onto his partner — he has never seen him drunk, or even drink, actually. He hadn’t even thought of Hein and liquor in the same room.
But thinking again, Hein’s a nobleman. He must’ve drank before... right?
Heinwald was on his chair, coat hanging half off his shoulders as he takes small, tentative sips of whatever’s in his glass, his face getting redder, observing a group of people intently.
He emits a giggle.
Curran is seriously questioning rather to continue being a silent wallflower in the comfort of their friendgroup or going up to deal with a Heinwald that he is ...rather unfamiliar with.
Curran sighs. Has Heinwald even drank before?
He has absolutely no idea.
He takes one more fleeting look at Hein’s face, head slightly drooping now, cheeks tinged reddish-pink, a small smile on his lips.
His heart threatens to crawl up his throat in a turmoil of confessions he would definitely stumble over.
He sighs again and excuses himself from the group. He’s tired and he should be a good partner and bring Hein home.
Because he’s a good partner. Yep.
As simple as that.
‘Or is it?’ Hein’s voice floats over again, and he thinks that he’s definitely thinking too hard today.
He approaches him, and Hein looks up when the familiar click of shoes comes closer. He tips his head up slightly, tilting to a side. His glasses are droopy, and his eyes are blurred with the daze of intoxication.
‘C-Curran,’ He slurs.
Curran sighs. Hein was mysterious on a daily basis, but drunk Hein was a mystery he doesn’t know if he wants to solve. Even if it was adorable.
He shakes his head. He was being a good partner. Not solving... the mystery named Heinwald, slouched in a pretty heap before him.
‘Curran,’ He slurs again, more demanding this time.
He looks so cute. Curran takes a deep breath.
‘Yes, Heinwald?’
He mumbles something.
‘Hein, nothing coherent just came out of your mouth.’
‘I-I said, m’sleepy. ... return home.’
Alright, that’s slightly coherent now. Curran sighs again and stretches his hand towards his partner.
He tries to ignore how soft his hand feels in his and pulls Heinwald up but he stumbles, groaning.
Curran sighs. He slips an arm around Hein’s (surprisingly small) waist and walks with him, slowly, giving a nod of acknowledgement to their friends.
He waves to their clients awkwardly with the weight of Hein on him. They smile back gratefully and sends them off with bows and another round of thanks.
The double doors open and fresh air hits them, cool and crisp. Curran inhales and sighs again. The night was clear, but his mind and heart were fogged up with so many thoughts of Hein himself, he’s afraid he’ll never find the way out.
He’s not sure if he even wants to.
Hein mumbles something into his shoulder.
‘What did you say?’
‘Curran,, can’t walk... carry.’
He swears his heart lurches so hard, his chest hurt.
‘What?’
Hein snuggles into his side and mumbles, ‘Carry.’
They stand there, under the moonlight, the cool breeze sifting through Heinwald’s long hair, his fringe sweaty and plastered to his red cheeks, and Curran’s face is burning.
Wordlessly, he picks him up and drapes him over his back.
Heinwald is light, snuggling into the crook of his shoulder with a small sound of satisfaction, and Curran’s cheeks feel too hot, even in the wind.
They’re halfway home when he feels Heinwald’s lips under his earlobes, his breath warm with some scent of fruity alcohol that wafts off him.
Halfway home when he hears the whisper of the soft, deep voice that resonates in his head.
Letters that makes his hopeful heart stutter, letters that leave his confused heart in shambles.
‘Curran,’ He had whispered, with a hint of a whine in his voice, ‘Love you.’