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The liquid burned as Sean scrabbled for the edge of the whiskey, coughing and blinking alcohol from his eyes. He’d been leant over the side of the bottle on Arthur’s table, makeshift bucket and rope in hand to snag a drink for himself, and had slipped in. His feet didn’t touch the bottom, and he was glad he knew how to swim. John would’ve been dead by now.
A voice made him breathe a sigh of relief.
“Night, Charles.” Arthur slurred as he staggered into his tent, tired after a long evening of drinking. He was even too drunk to care about the shitty, tinny music coming from Dutch’s tent. He dropped to sit on his bed and Sean yelped, the whiskey sloshing against the sides of the bottle. From his position, Sean could see him already nursing the dregs of a bottle of beer, gulping down the golden liquid with a gruff hum. His head swayed to the bad music happily, the bottle empty within no time. As he set it down on the table, his hand nudged the whiskey bottle and Sean went under as a wave pushed him deeper, his limbs flailing as he tried to surface.
Just as he managed to get a breath, he was pushed under again by Arthur picking up the bottle, his nose burning as he tried to swim out of the current that dragged him in a circle at the bottom of the bottle. He kicked upwards, gasping desperately, his lungs aching as he wiped his hair from his face, catching his breath. He hadn’t noticed the bottle tipping until Arthur’s face came into view, his face flushed and his eyes focused on the full moon as he moved the bottle to his lips.
“No… No! Arthur, no!” Sean screamed as his mouth opened, whiskey pouring inside. Sean scrambled to swim away from the current, his legs kicking through the bottle neck, bumping against his top lip just as he closed his mouth and gulped thickly, the noise shaking Sean to his core. That could’ve been him. As Arthur lowered the bottle to his lap, Sean tried to wave to get his attention, yelling and screaming for him to help him. He sat back, putting his feet up on his bed, licking his lips as he relaxed. Sean was so frightened that he was too drunk to notice him. That he’d drown or...worse.
The day had definitely warranted a boozy evening. It had been more stressful than most, and he needed to unwind a little. He could barely think as the alcohol numbed his mind, the crackle of the fire and the flickering light and the taste at the back of his tongue all merging into one. Arthur wondered if finishing his drink would make him ill. He felt about there, so probably. However, an unfinished drink would irk him all night.
Sean screeched as the bottle was lifted once more. This time it wasn’t a sip. Arthur’s mouth opened wide, and he tipped his head back with the bottle. Sean’s eyes were wide as he stared down into his mouth, his pearly teeth, his pink tongue, and deep in the back, his uvula rising over his dark, breathing throat, hot, damp air hitting the Irishman’s face. Arthur tipped his bottle the rest of the way and he soon found himself plummeting downward, screaming as that gaping maw grew closer and closer. Sean sank into the flesh of Arthur’s tongue, clinging to it as whiskey drained away down his throat, threatening to take him with it. He reached sideways and jammed his fingers in the gaps between his molars, holding on for all he was worth, looking up at his teeth and lips framing his only escape. He fought forward as he tried to climb to safety, watching almost in slow motion as the last drops of whiskey passed his lips. He screamed with anguish as the light was cut off, being plunged into darkness, hot and humid.
Arthur grunted drunkenly as he sat back, grumbling softly. He knew he was going to have one hell of a hangover and glanced around the tent with a raised eyebrow to see if there was anything that could help.
Sean felt like he was inside a sauna, with heavy saliva drenching into his clothes and slicking down his hair. His screams were muffled in Arthur’s mouth, pleads falling on deaf ears. His drunken stupor, the music, his small size, they were all factors in him being completely unaware of his plight, even as he kicked at his tongue.
Arthur saw a bottle of water nearby and happily leant forward to grab it, picking it up. As he opened his mouth, Sean thanked God, sure that he’d felt him and was about to help him out. However, as he crawled forward, he noticed his lips purse, the opening of a bottle coming into view.
The torrent of water was biblical as Arthur chugged it, Sean sliding down toward his throat, screaming as he tried to climb toward the bottle. He desperately reached out and tried to grab onto something, a tooth, his tongue, anything at all, but it was a fruitless effort. Suddenly, survival instincts kicking in and adrenaline pumping through his veins, he made one last attempt to reach out and grab his uvula as he lingered on the precipice of being swallowed, his fingertips brushing it as it lifted out of reach, a precursor to a swallow. Arthur’s pharynx widened enough for Sean to slide in, throat muscles clamping at his legs, tongue pressing into his face, pushing him down his throat with a thick, wet gulp, aided by the gallons of water pouring upon him.
“No! You wanker!” Sean cried out, spreading his limbs in an attempt to halt his descent, slowing slightly. Arthur coughed as he felt the obstruction, pressing a hand to his neck and swallowing his next mouthful of water hard, the muscles pushing at the tiny man, clamping his limbs to his sides. Finally, with a smooth rippling motion, the tiny man was sent on his way, forming a large, wriggling bulge under Arthur’s fingers. He quirked his eyebrow, looking at the bottle with puzzlement. Sean could only look up as the light from above faded, the throat closing above his head, cutting him off from the outside world forever, Arthur’s heartbeat shaking him as he sank deep into him, blacking out as he went, never to return.
~~~
When he came to, Sean was surrounded by darkness, with warm, constrictive flesh on all sides and he screamed, thrashing desperately.
Hosea yelped softly and unfurled his hands from around him, holding him gently in his palms. “Arthur! He… He…” Sean looked around with panic, realising he was safe, exhaling softly. “Was it a dream?” he asked, a hand on his chest.
“Unfortunately not.” Arthur mumbled sheepishly, moving to look at him. “I, uh… Well, I was sick after drinking that water, thank fuck.” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Sean.”
Hosea stroked his back gently with his fingertip. “I got you rinsed off and dressed.” he gestured to him and he noticed he was wearing different clothes. “I couldn’t salvage your hat, I’m sorry. It’s still in there.”
Sean exhaled as he sat in Hosea’s hand, looking up at Arthur. “You’re a right dumb git, you know that?”
“I know.” Arthur laughed. “We’ll get you a new hat. Or the old one, if you don’t mind it being a bit dirty.”
“Fuck you.” Sean chuckled, laying down in Hosea’s palms to enjoy being fussed over.