Work Text:
in vino veritas
Latin exclamation meaning “under the influence of alcohol, a person tells the truth.”
-
Luke is at the bar completely by chance.
The owner was somebody he had done a case for before, and the bar was having some kind of buy 1 get 1 free thing for drinks on tap, so she had invited Luke over, wanting to catch up. Luke, not one to turn down a sale and also just the type of person who likes chatting people up, decides to go, and it’s a pretty normal night.
And then Artem shows up, sits at the bar, and chugs his ordered drink down like it’s nothing.
Luke doesn’t want to pry. It’s none of his business, if Artem had a rough day and wants to cope by having a drink. They’re friends, yeah, but Luke doesn’t want to butt in where he’s not wanted.
Eventually, though, it becomes quite clear that Luke needs to butt in because Artem is...not looking good.
Luke only had half his attention on Artem, the other half concentrating on the conversation he was having with the owner of the bar, but half is still enough for Luke to see that Artem is like, three seconds away from faceplanting onto the floor. Starting to feel worried now, Luke finishes up his chat with the owner and makes his way to Artem.
The moment Luke gets to him is the same moment Artem tries to stand and nearly falls over. Luke manages to catch him before he can stumble, and the worry inside of Luke just gets worse.
“Woah, Artem, uh,” Luke says, pulling him upright.
“Luke?” Artem blinks at him.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Luke smiles. “You okay?”
“I…” Artem says very, very slowly. “...am not.”
“Alright, let’s get some fresh air then, yeah?”
Artem doesn’t say anything in reply, which just worries Luke even more. Leading him gently, Luke walks Artem outside the bar, Artem ever so slightly leaning against him the entire time. Once they’re outside, Luke takes a good look at Artem as his brain goes through the worst case scenarios.
Artem is very out of it and it seems to be the regular kind of out of it that comes with being drunk but, the dude had like, a single half pint. Is that enough to get this drunk? No, right? Unless Artem has the alcohol tolerance of a baby armadillo. Or maybe Luke wouldn’t know. His tolerance for alcohol (and a wild variety of other inhibition lowering substances, thanks NSB training, woo) is pretty damn high, so his frame of reference for this is kinda inapplicable. Artem looks only 1% cognizant, and it’s making Luke’s mind go haywire, thinking about the terrible possibilities. Was...was Artem drugged? Even just the thought of it makes Luke’s brain go red with fury.
“I’m sorry,” Artem says out of nowhere, shaking Luke from his thoughts.
“What?” Luke blinks.
“You look...upset,” Artem sounds sullen now, and oh no, oh geez. “My fault...I’m sorry.”
“Hey, no! Not your fault!” Luke says quickly because seeing Artem visibly sad is making his heart hurt. “You didn’t do anything, I promise.”
“Okay…” Artem says.
And then he trudges once, twice, and then fwoomps straight into Luke. Luke has to catch him in his arms so that they don’t both fall into the gutter, and Artem, for some reason, takes this as permission to basically hug Luke very, very much.
“Artem!?” Luke says, extremely worried now.
“Mhhghrgrhgr,” Artem says, extremely unintelligible now.
Okay, Artem absolutely needs to go home immediately. Luke can save figuring out the whole situation later, because catastrophizing worst case scenarios isn’t going to help Artem right now. What will help, though, is getting Artem back to his place, safe and sound.
“Artem, what’s your address?” Luke says, jostling the Artem a little bit in his hold to catch his attention.
“Hhhrrghrg,” Artem says, nuzzling his face into Luke’s shoulder.
“...Run that by me again?”
“Mmrhhgrhr.”
“...... Third time’s the charm?”
“Hhrg.”
“Okay, cool,” Luke sighs. “Artem, give me a sec, I need to make a call.”
Artem does not give Luke a sec. He tightens his hold on Luke’s body, not by too much, but it’s enough that it is clear to Luke that he doesn’t want to let go, which makes Luke’s heart hurt again. Not willing to pry Artem off of him but also needing to get to his phone, Luke finds a compromise by maneuvering Artem from hanging off of his front to hanging off of his back, Artem’s arms looped around Luke’s middle and his head resting on Luke’s shoulder.
With Artem appeased and Luke’s arms free, he takes out his phone and dials Ria’s number. She picks up on the fourth ring.
“Hey, Luke,” Ria accepts the call. There’s some odd sounds in the background and she also sounds a bit out of breath. “What’s up?”
“Hi, hey, so,” Luke says, wanting to get to the point quickly, but then over the line, he hears a faint crash. “Uh. Am I calling at a bad time?”
“Not really. I mean, a little bit. I’m catsitting for a few days because Kiki’s out of town.” Ria sighs over the sounds of muffled chaos. “But it’s fine. Why’d you call?”
“Well—”
“Hrgrghrgrhrhr,” Artem grumbles loudly, sounding like a garbage disposal unit.
“Is that Artem?” Ria asks, alarmed. “Is he okay? What’s happening?”
“He’s fine, just, incredibly drunk. Or well, I hope he’s just drunk. This is why I called, actually.” Luke explains. “Do you know his address? He is...not in a state to get home without help, right now. I was gonna get him to his place but then I realized I don’t know where that is and he’s not exactly good at telling me.”
At that, Ria lets out a soft laugh. “It’s your turn now, I guess. Yes, I know his address. I’ll text it to you.”
“Thank you,” Luke breathes a sigh of relief. Then, he worriedly backtracks a bit. “Wait, ‘my turn’? Does this happen often?”
“I hope not. Artem has no alcohol tolerance whatsoever, he doesn’t like drinking,” Ria says, confirming the lightweight baby armadillo theory Luke had thought of earlier and thankfully nixing his fear that Artem was drugged. But...if he doesn’t like drinking, what was he doing at that bar in the first place? Ria continues talking, so Luke tucks that question away for later. “There was just this thing, a little while back. A business reception. Artem was invited, I was his plus one, and he drank two flutes of champagne and was down for the night. I had to lug him to his apartment after. It was...not easy.”
“Yeah, I can imagine. You’re tiny and he’s basically six feet tall.”
“I’m a perfectly normal height,” Ria huffs. “I’m just friends with giraffe men.”
Luke is about to banter some more, but then on Ria’s end, he hears a disgusting retch.
“Oh, crap. Luke, I gotta go, Kiki’s cat just hurled on the carpet. I’ll text you the address in a bit.”
Luke scrunches his nose. “Eugh, yeah, good luck with that. Thanks again!”
“No problem—Oh wait! Fair warning, about Artem, when he’s drunk,” Ria adds before Luke can end the call. “When he’s like this he can get a bit...well...clingy.”
“Yeaaaaah,” Luke says, very aware of how currently, Artem is determinedly hugging him from behind like a warm koala. “I may have noticed.”
Ria laughs. “Good luck with that. Bye!”
And then she hangs up.
“I’m pretty sure I can handle you,” Luke says to Artem.
All Artem says to that is, “Mmmmrhhrhrhrhr.”
-
A minute later, Ria sends him Artem’s address. Luke then calls a taxi while Artem hangs off of his back like a well-dressed jetpack. The act of actually getting Artem into the taxi is as easy as herding cats, which is to say it isn’t easy at all, but damn it if Luke isn’t determined to get this man back home despite the fact that all Artem seems to want to do is melt into a puddle on the ground.
Luke manages to get the both of them into the taxi eventually. After telling the driver the address, they’re on their merry way.
Luke settles back next to Artem, who had been leaning his head against the car’s window while Luke told the driver where to go, and he’s relieved to note that Artem is no longer half-asleep. His eyes are open now, if blearily, and he watches the passing streetlights. From 1% cognizant, Artem looks...5% cognizant.
Progress is progress.
“How are you feeling?” Luke asks quietly.
“I don’t…” Artem’s words are sluggish. “...like feeling.”
And with that depressing sentiment, he’s out again. Welp.
-
Artem doesn’t come to, when the taxi pulls up at his apartment complex, so after Luke pays the driver, he dutifully hefts Artem up into a fireman’s carry and hopes to whatever god is out there that nobody in the vicinity thinks that this is a kidnapping.
For once in his life, the omnipotent beings of the world seem to have mercy (or pity) on Luke, and the trip to Artem’s unit goes off without a hitch. Though Luke has to set Artem down for a bit when he gets to Artem’s door, since he needs Artem’s keys. He could pick the lock, but he really doesn’t want to make himself look even shadier than he’s already made himself look.
“Artem, I need your keys,” Luke crouches down and shakes Artem gently.
Artem dazedly opens his eyes and fumbles with his jacket pocket, dutifully handing his keys to Luke before his eyes slip shut once more.
Luke gets his front door open and drags Artem into his swanky apartment, setting him down on his minimalist sofa.
Or well, Luke tries his best to. The sofa is quite stylish and probably is great to look at, but it’s not great to lay a drunk full grown man on, thanks to its inexplicable narrow-ness. Luke manages to get Artem on the sofa for a grand three seconds before gravity pulls Artem down onto the floor with a soft thump.
“Oh god, I am so sorry,” Luke winces, setting Artem upright.
Artem, awake from the tumble, starts pulling at his tie fruitlessly.
“I can’t…” Artem says. “...Get my tie...off.”
Luke sighs fondly. “Let me.”
“...”
“...”
“...”
“Is this an Eldredge knot?” Luke says after several moments of him fumbling with the tie with no success.
“...Yes.”
“Why?” Luke is vaguely aghast. He can barely tie a half Windsor and Artem is subjecting himself to the difficulty of an Eldredge? Already, he’s pulled his phone out to search through Big Data Lab how the hell to undo this ungodly knot. “Do you hate yourself?”
“Sometimes,” Artem sighs.
Oh, god, Luke’s made him sad again. If Luke has to see Artem sad one more time, he’s pretty sure he’s going to start crying. Via osmosis.
“Sorry, I…” Artem leans his head against the sofa as Luke starts to make some headway with his tie. “...I get like this.”
“Like what?” Luke asks softly.
“Emotions,” Artem says. “Gets messy...In my head...comes spilling out…”
“Nothing wrong with emotions,” Luke tells him, finally managing to get the tie off. “It’s a part of being human.”
“I don’t...like them.”
“Well, tough luck, we’ve all got them.” Luke laughs, slipping the tie off completely. “Where’s your bedroom? Your sofa sucks.”
Artem squints at him. “No, it doesn’t.”
“Yes, it does. Minimalist furniture sucks in general. Get a beanbag,” Luke says, placing Artem’s arm over his shoulders and hefting him up. “Bedroom?”
Artem mumbles where it is, and Luke follows, walking the both of them to Artem’s bedroom. Once there, Luke sets Artem down on his bed that has much more surface area than his stupid sofa, and he’s ready to leave, satisfied with knowing that Artem is home, safe, and in no danger of falling back onto the floor.
However, in that very moment, Artem’s clingy-ness comes back with a vengeance. He hug attacks Luke once again, sending Luke—who only lets out a very dignified squawk, thank you very much—down onto the bed along with him.
“Artem—” Luke tries to wriggle himself out of Artem’s hold and the fact that he’s having difficulty with this is pretty impressive, on Artem’s end. Luke knows how to get out of all sorts of martial arts grapples. The Artem Wing Koala Hug though is something he wasn’t trained for. “You’re very drunk, you need to sleep, and—”
“I’m a...boring person, aren’t I?”
“What?” Luke stops wriggling, bewildered by Artem’s words.
With the way Artem is holding him—if Luke had to describe it, he figures he’d call it...aggressive spooning—Luke can’t turn around to look at Artem. He can only hear his voice, and his voice sounds...empty and resigned.
“People like to call me a robot,” Artem says slowly. “And I...guess they’re right. I’m not exciting...Or interesting...or...fun to be around.”
“Artem…” Luke says, his chest tight at how sad Artem sounds. “That’s not true—”
Artem breathes out a humorless laugh, “And even if I were a robot, I’m a terrible one at that. Always...malfunctioning. Always so wrong...when it comes to feelings.”
The question from earlier surfaces in Luke's mind. “Is that why you were drinking tonight?”
Artem hums. “Wanted to shut off my brain. Never does anything...right.”
“Hey,” Luke says. “I don’t know the full story here, and you don’t have to tell me, but. I can tell you what I think. What’s true for me.”
Artem doesn’t say anything, simply holds Luke close, as if letting go will mean that Luke will see him the same lowly way he, for some reason, sees himself.
“You’re being way too hard on yourself. I think you’re a great guy,” Luke says. “Yeah, you’re logical and cerebral, but that doesn’t mean you’re a robot. It just means that’s how you see the world, with those as values. The tricky thing is that...sometimes, with all that rationality, emotions get a bit neglected. You don’t know what to do with them. But that doesn’t mean you’re wrong. It just means you need to work on it.” Luke finds himself smiling a bit now “And if there’s anybody who can work through it, it’s you, mister youngest senior attorney. You’ll be alright.”
Artem doesn’t say anything, and for a second, Luke thinks he’s fallen asleep.
But then, Artem says, “You’re...a good friend.”
“You are too, Artem,” Luke says fondly. “You gonna let me go now orrrrr—”
“No.”
“It was worth a try.”
-
Luke wakes up slowly. Which is weird, given the fact that he’s been waking up to a blaring alarm for the better half of the last decade. When he opens his eyes, he understands and remembers why his alarm isn’t blasting though; he’s not at his apartment. He’s at Artem’s.
In Artem’s bed.
Luke sits up very quickly, ready to jump out and make himself scarce before Artem wakes up and has a heart attack—
aaaaaand Artem is already awake. Sitting up. Staring at Luke with a growing horror in his eyes.
“Uh,” Luke says awkwardly. “So you were really drunk last night.”
“I was,” Artem chokes out. His face is quite red. “Did we—”
Luke blinks.
Outside, a cricket chirps.
Somewhere, a tumbleweed blows past.
And then the lightbulb in Luke’s head finally goes off in a dazzling shine of Oh God, No.
“No!” Luke blurts, feeling his own face heat up as well. “We just slept together!”
“We—” Artem looks like he’s dying.
“No, I mean that in the literal sense! As in literally, we slept while in the other’s general proximity!”
“That—” Forget dying, Artem looks like his soul has left his body.
“Nothing happened!” Luke scrambles to assure him. “I mean, nothing like that, I promise.”
“Then what—”
“I brought you home and then to your bed because your stupid minimalist sofa is too narrow and you kept falling off of it but then when I got you here you cuddled me and refused to let me go so I admitted defeat and then you got a bit sad but that’s okay everybody gets sad sometimes so we had a bit of a heart-to-heart, I think, and then we both fell asleep and now we’re—” Luke inhales deeply, why did he say all that in one go???“—we’re here.”
“That’s…” Artem looks even more embarrassed now actually. “...Worse. Somehow, that’s worse.”
“How is that worse???”
“I’m so sorry,” Artem looks away and good god, Artem swerves from flustered to emotional despair at the drop of a hat. “I must have been an ordeal, last night, and—”
“Hey, woah—”
“I was a huge inconvenience—”
“You weren’t, it was fi—”
“And you had to put up with me—”
“Artem,” Luke interrupts him sharply. Now that Artem is sober, his feelings aren’t on his sleeve anymore, clumsily dripping around. They’re reined in and restrained, and yet, now that Luke knows what to look for, he can tell that Artem is feeling the same insecurity that spilled over last night; that worry of being too much and too little at the same time.
Artem looks his way, and in his gaze, just the smallest sliver of sadness that he keeps locked up inside. “Luke, you don’t have to make me feel bett—”
“Nope. Nuh uh. Be quiet. Silence,” Luke says, channeling his old teenaged annoying-ness to catch Artem off guard. It works, because Artem is so momentarily affronted he doesn’t continue speaking, which gives Luke the opportunity to set some things straight. “I didn’t ‘put up’ with you. You weren’t an ‘ordeal’ or an ‘inconvenience.’ You were having a hard time and I helped you out. I was happy to help out. That’s what friends do.”
“I—” Artem stumbles over his words, as if he is unsure how to speak them, how to hold them. “I can remember some parts of last night. I was a mess.”
“We all are, in some way.” Luke says softly. And he knows his next words won’t sink in, not really, at least not now, but he says them anyway. Because it matters. Because Artem should know. “And that’s alright.”
Artem is silent for a long time, not making eye contact with Luke, and Luke thinks it is time for him to leave.
“I’ll get out of your hair now,” Luke says, getting out of Artem’s bed. He stands up and hazards a glance at Artem, who is still looking away. “Make sure to hydrate, okay?”
“Okay,” Artem says quietly.
And then Luke leaves.
As he’s walking down the apartment complex’s stairs, Luke can’t help but sigh a little bit. Not because he’s frustrated, or anything, but because after last night, it’s pretty apparent to Luke that he cares a whole lot about Artem. But caring about Artem also means understanding him, and Luke understands that he and Artem are different. Luke wears his heart on his sleeve and Artem locks his away in a box. Luke thrives on the shining honesty of vulnerability and Artem shies away from that light. Luke feels deeply, and Artem does too, but how they show that could not be any more further apart.
He told Artem last night that he was being too hard on himself, and Luke believes that. But it’ll take work on Artem’s end for him to believe that himself.
Once he’s on the ground floor, his phone pings, shaking Luke out of his thoughts.
It’s a text from Artem. Just two simple words, and yet, in them, a sincerity that Luke knows is true.
Thank you.
Luke smiles. It’s a start.