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It was too early in the night to be this drunk, but Tim Shepard knew how to shotgun a beer like no one else could, and he happened to have close contact with the bartender at Bucks. Never paid for his drinks.
Most likely because he ran out without the check.
“Shepard, get your ass-” Bucks words were cut off as Tim slipped into the crowd, laughing a little to himself and heading towards the pool table, where he knew Dally would be.
Sure enough, he was hunched over in concentration, aiming his cue towards the ball. With a satisfying clunk, he knocked two of the balls in, and the guy across from him groaned.
Dally smirked, holding out his hand and watching as the man slapped a few bills into it. Dally rifled through them before nodding and shoving them in his pocket. Looking up he saw where Tim was standing, leaning against the wall and watching.
Striding over, Dally slung an arm around his shoulder. “Hey, Shepard, long time no see.” His eyes were sparkling with the excitement of his win.
Tim shook his head. “Beat that guy good, huh?” He was leaning against the wall more for support than comfort at this point.
Dally smiled. “Nah, he was pretty bad. Man, Timothy, you’re drunk as hell.” Tilting his chin up, he stared at Tim’s eyes, trying to judge how bad it was.
“M not. And don't call me Timothy.”
“I'll call you whatever I want, Timothy” Grinning, Dally stole a drink off the table next to them, taking a swig before making a face.
“Man, that's nasty.”
“No shit, it's someone else's drink. What did you think?”
“Thought they’d have better taste” Dally looked at Tim. “You’re swaying, you need to sit or somethin? Don't you dare throw up all over me.”
“Won’t”
“Mhm. Come on, we’re going upstairs.”
“I don't want-”
“Well I don't care, you are not throwing up all over the floor, we’re gonna get you to a bathroom.”
Dally seemed fairly sober, Tim noted as he was dragging him up the stairs. He kind of wished he wasn't drunk, but he doubted Dally would be as nice to him if he had any chance of remembering anything.
Kicking open a door off the hall, Dally pushed him in, shutting the door behind him, and watched as Tim stumbled over to the bed, sitting on the edge and closing his eyes briefly.
“Hey, man, no falling asleep yet. You’re in my bed, remember.”
“But I wanna sleep…”
“No sleep. Not yet. You are gonna smoke and calm your stomach before you-”
Tim flopped back on the bed.
“No-no, godammit-oh for fucks sake-”
“Come on. Bedddd”
“No-”
“Come onnnn.” Tim pulled Dally closer, making him topple on top of him. Tim was laughing now, and Dally was grinning, trying to pin Tim's hands down.
“You are not a good fighter when you’re drunk” Dally commented, having made his way on top of Tim and pinned his arms down.
Tim stuck out his tongue, and Dally laughed, laying down beside him.
“Ah so now you’ll share a bed, huh Winston?”
Dally grinned again, tossing an arm over Tims's chest. “Mhm. Sure. Not because you placed yourself on my bed”
“Totally not.” Tims's head was spinning, but he snickered anyway.
“I'm assuming you’re gonna sleep here, you lazy bum?”
Tim groaned, rolling over. “Guess’o, if that's okay with you.”
“Mmm,” Dally mumbled. “Get under the blanket, Shepard, before I change my mind.”
Tim obeyed, pushing down the covers until he and Dally were both entangled in them.
Dally was already half asleep, and Tim was too drunk to know what was a dream and what was real, but their hands may or may not have clasped underneath blankets, their bodies may have shifted so they were close enough together for one to wrap their arms around the other, and their lips may or may not have brushed.