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“You shouldn’t be drunk yet. You’ve only had a dozen glasses.”
“’m not drunk.”
“Sure you’re not,” Midnighter answered, stepping into Apollo’s open arms. “I’m rather good at reading body language, it’s a neat little trick I have.”
Apollo closed his arms around Midnighter and rested his head on his chest. Midnighter held him back.
“You should go catch some sun, it’s good for you.”
“I couldn’t get drunk if I did that,” Apollo mumbled back, not lifting his head from its resting place. “Besides, not much sun in this part of the world.”
Midnighter rested his chin on the top of Apollo’s head.
“Jeroen says he might have a lead,” Midnighter said, petting Apollo’s hair gently, brushing a strand behind his ear. “Says he estimates he’ll find her in under a week.”
Apollo barely reacted; lifted his head and met Midnighter’s gaze with blurry eyes. His moves were slowed and slurred by the alcohol. Midnighter frowned.
“Good,” Apollo said, not as enthusiastically as Midnighter had hoped.
Midnighter saw him reaching for his half empty glass on the counter and pushed it just slightly out of his reach.
“’m thirsty,” Apollo feebly protested.
“Sure you are. Like you didn’t have enough to drink after the funeral.”
Apollo’s expression became gloomier, if that was possible.
“What’s the point in drinking to forget if you come here and remind me.”
Midnighter went back to brushing Apollo’s hair out of his face.
“She’s not entirely gone,” he said, lamely.
“I swore to myself I would never let this happen again,” Apollo mumbled.
He looked truly miserable and was eyeing his glass wistfully.
“It’s not your fault,” Midnighter spoke softly.
Apollo met his eye and Midnighter knew he’d hit dead center.
“If I’d just blown that thing’s brain up before Jenny could sacrifice herself, she’d still be here.”
“That’s not what she told Angie in her diary. And that wouldn’t have worked.”
Apollo didn’t answer.
“You’re drunk. It’s impairing your judgment. There’s no one here to blame. Nothing we could have done.”
Apollo rested his forehead on Midnighter’s shoulder. His voice came muffled by all the leather.
"I miss her already... I miss her bossing me around,” Apollo laughed sadly. “I miss her coming to me with all her problems and being my biggest problem.”
“I’m sure her replacement will be an even bigger problem,” Midnighter tried to comfort him.
“You’re just saying that to be nice,” Apollo said, trying to force a smile onto his face without great success.
“Just imagine: toddler Jenny Sparks. A nightmare.”
“I guess you’re right, it’ll be awful.”
Midnighter hummed.
“Child chain smoker,” Midnighter said, shaking his head in mock disgust.
“And with taste as terrible as the original,” Apollo added, mimicking Midnighter’s display of distaste.
“See, you’re starting to see it, too. Light at the end of the tunnel.”
Midnighter let his hand fall from Apollo hair to his face and cupped his cheek.
Apollo didn’t usually have bags under his eyes.
“If you’re not going to go for a fly, come to bed, at least,” Midnighter asked quietly.
Apollo looked like he’d only just realized he was exhausted.
“I’ll keep you warm,” Midnighter added.
“I guess I can continue being miserable tomorrow,” Apollo conceded, the corner of his mouth tilting up slightly and his eyes going soft and tired.
“Door.”
Midnighter was still in Apollo’s arms, so he just stepped inside the door’s glow and used Apollo’s embrace of him to drag his lover in behind him.
The door closed and they were left alone and in the dark, lying on top of their unmade bed.
Apollo wasn’t breathing, which wasn’t entirely abnormal, but notable. It usually meant he was too preoccupied with something else to hold the charade of basic human function.
He took a short breath minutes later.
“Thanks,” he said, faint and slurred, before sinking into an unbreathing sleep.
Midnighter rested a hand against Apollo’s chest. His heart was beating steadily.
Midnighter hadn’t let himself examine if he missed Jenny Sparks yet. With Apollo asleep and temporarily out of his misery, the thought was coming dangerously close to breaching his mind.