Work Text:
"Dude. Weed party in Jay's room tonight?"
"Awesome!"
*
Chris was baked.
He'd arrived at Jay's room with Alex to find that it wasn't the normal kind of weed party. Beer had been invited and had brought some friends with it.
Frankie was already there and was arguing with Jay over music when Storm and Roode had turned up with Homicide and Joe. The party had kicked in around about then, and Chris, after drinking copious amounts of beer and smoking more than enough weed, had gotten to see Storm work his way through a joint and a six pack while actively defending both from interlopers. Homicide had tried to explain the differences between beer etiquette and weed etiquette (which mostly went along the lines of "You're supposed to gimme the damn joint!" in ever louder tones) but eventually gave it up as a bad idea because of the language barrier. Chris had been fascinated to learn that while he was only slightly bilingual himself (Japanese swear words totally counted), Homicide and Storm spoke four languages between them, and apparently, three of them were English.
Then there had been a brief moment where Joe had tried to show Storm the different etiquettes rather then tell him, but that had ended with Storm dropping the joint onto his crotch in an effort to dissuade anyone from taking it and Chris had laughed until it hurt.
Bobby had passed on the weed but had steadily worked his way through the beer and, much to Chris' surprise, had pulled out an arsenal of impersonations that had most of the guys laughing hard. Except Joe; he giggled. And it amused Chris to no end. Though his amusement hadn't been half as bright as Homicide's when Bobby had nailed his accent.
Bobby had been dragged away at that point and by the time he got back he'd had a bottle of hard liquor in his hands and slightly concussed look about the eyes. Homicide hadn't been with him, and Joe had laughed so much he'd almost been sick. When he'd recovered, he insisted Bobby had been Blind-'Cided ("Get it?") and they'd both disappeared to a corner of the room and out of Chris' ear-shot. Occasionally, Bobby would say something and Joe would laugh and gleefully punch him in the arm. That had continued for a half hour until Joe had left to hunt out Homicide (to get his side of events, Chris presumed) and Bobby got that look on his face most people got after being around Alex for more than three hours. It was a pained constipated look, only worse. Alex had that effect on people.
After his arguments with Jay had ended, Frankie had sat against the wall for most of the night, laughing and shouting ever more creative obscenities at Alex, who'd responded in kind. He'd steadily gotten rosier from the beer and stupider from the weed. Chris thoroughly approved. Especially when he couldn't be bothered to move his legs for the Curryman Dance Off and Alex ended up with a bloody nose. That shit had been funny.
There'd also been a small moment to honour absent friends, but that was capped pretty quickly when Storm had spilt his beer and there was a brief, eventful fire. All hadn't been lost though; Alex had decided the best way to honour absent friends was to prank call them, so they'd all spent an hour bugging the shit out of Sonjay and Petey.
Which had pretty much lead to this point, where things seemed to be winding down. There was more weed than beer and no one from hotel security had called to tell them to shut the fuck up for at least an hour.
Storm was passed out on Jay's bed, shirtless, hugging a beer bottle and Bobby was sleeping while sitting in his chair. Frankie was snoring from his place against the wall and Chris could hear Jay muttering in the bathroom. He didn't have a clue as to what the fuck was going on in there and he wasn't about to ask. A man's bathroom habits were a sacred thing - unless Alex had his video camera. After that, the protocol was to place bets to see what came first, Alex's beating or the blackmail.
As for Alex himself, he was heading over to Storm with a red sharpie in his hand.
"He'll kill you in the morning," Chris told him.
Alex looked over his shoulder, a wide smile on his face. "No, he won't, because one, he won't know it was me, and two, I can run faster than he can. Jimmy here needs to step away from the beer and embrace the treadmill once in a while. Once the burns on his balls heal, at least."
Chris huffed out a laugh. This was always the part of the festivities that he liked the most. Everyone who had to leave had already gone, and those that were left behind were dreaming the dreams of the wasted. Or in the bathroom making the occasional thud. Chris wasn't going to ask. Besides, he was comfortable. The hard fought battle he'd gone through for the only armchair in the room had been well worth it. Plus, he still had a beer in his hand and there was a peacefully smouldering joint on the small table beside him.
"Y'know," he said. "I like these hotel rooms much more than the fifty a night shitholes we usually have to sleep in."
There was a muffled grunt from Alex as he heaved Storm over onto his belly. "Enjoy it, man. Once... wait, who's paying for this room?"
"Fuck if I know."
"Well, whoever it is won't be paying for another one. Between the burnt carpet and that hole in the wall, we'll be lucky to get away with just a ban." He uncapped the pen and looked at his canvas thoughtfully before continuing, "If someone's gotta pay damages, I'll deny any knowledge that this party ever took place."
"Dude, you were on the balcony mooning strangers and trying to convince girls to give you their phone number," Chris said.
"Trying to convince hot girls to give me their phone number."
"Trying to convince any girls to give you their phone number. The standards you don't have become even less apparent when you're drunk. And stoned."
"Whatever," Alex said. He bent over and began to draw. "I got three numbers, didn't I?"
"Yeah," Chris agreed. "One was fourteen digits long, one connected to Germany and the other was a sex line number. I know because Frankie's phone has been connected for about two hours now." Chris smiled wide. "When he gets his bill, Traci is going to kick his ass."
Alex laughed loudly. "Who called the number?"
"Joe." Chris picked up the joint and took a deep drag. "He blames Frankie for costing him the Dance Off."
"Man, fuck Joe, I should have won that shit."
Chris laughed again and put the joint down. He took a mouthful of beer and shifted down in the chair slightly. He felt heavy and a bit fuzzy around the edges, like cotton wool coated lead. He kind of wished there was some music playing, but the radio had been abandoned a long time ago and the last CD played had finished before Jay had disappeared into the bathroom to do something mysterious. And Chris couldn't be fucked getting up to put some tunes on himself. So instead, he watched Alex.
Chris had no idea what Alex was drawing, but he was very intent on drawing it. He was on his knees, leaning over Storm's back, sharpie working quickly. Occasionally he would mutter something that Chris couldn't quite hear and it would be followed by a tiny laugh. Sporadically, his ass would bump back down on his feet when he paused in his work, but mostly, he was bent in an awkward Z shape.
He was also digging his elbow in the small of Storm's back, but that was just as much about being an utter asshole as it was about keeping his balance.
Chris watched Alex work for ten minutes while he drank his beer and took the occasional toke from the joint. When Alex finished, he shuffled off the bed, stretched until his back popped and surveyed his work.
"You drew cocks, didn't you?" Chris asked.
"Among other things," Alex grinned and came over to sit on the floor by the chair. He snagged the joint from Chris' unresisting hand before he sat, back leaning against the chair.
The room lapsed back into silence as Chris nursed the last of his beer and Alex smoked the rest of the joint. Chris could feel his eyelids getting heavy in that pleasant weed-induced kind of way, and it wouldn't be long before he'd drift off with the certain knowledge that he'd wake up with tiny splooging dicks drawn on his face.
"Hey?" Alex's said, breaking the silence. It took a moment for the sound to work its way through the sleepy haze that had started to settle over Chris' head.
"Mmm?"
"You know what we should do?"
"What?"
"We should make out."
Chris opened his eyes and stared at the curtains for a moment. As far as suggestions went, it wasn't the worst that Chris had heard Alex mutter. It didn't involve anything dead, for example. Or inflatable. Or both. And probably most importantly, Alex didn't need ten minutes to 'get things ready' - if there was one thing Chris didn't need in his life, it was another night like that one. He still woke in a cold sweat sometimes.
"Why?" It was a guarded question, in a long-suffering sort of way.
"Because I've never kissed a guy before and I need to know if I'm missing out," Alex said reasonably. "There's, like, a whole area of sex I've dismissed because of boobs."
"Dude, kissing isn't sex." Chris said. As an afterthought, he added, "And boobs are awesome."
"I know, asshat," Alex said. He shifted around so he could look at Chris without putting a crick in his neck. "But think about it. Kissing is a prelude to the nasty. Well, sometimes. Personally, I prefer shoving women up against a wall and fucking 'em raw, but that's because I'm a romantic."
"You're so selfless."
"Fuck yeah," Alex smiled. "And I haven't had any complaints yet, so wouldn't it be a shame to deny half the population a crack at my body due to my own ignorance? Besides, I don't see why everyone can't -"
"Man, if the phrase 'have a go on the Shelley-Go-Round' is marching towards your lips I'm going to mule kick you in the face," Chris said.
"Don't harsh on my title, dude," Alex grinned. "You know it's the shit."
Chris kind of did, too, not that he'd admit it. Mostly, he was a little peeved that the 'Sabin-Go-Round' sounded less like the sexy ride of awesomeness that it undoubtedly was and more like a ride for people who drooled a lot. Fucking Alex and his stupid appropriate name.
"Anyway," Alex went on. "Are you going to make out with me or not?"
Chris contemplated things for a second before answering. "Okay, but on one condition."
"What?"
"You and your red sharpie stay the fuck away from me while I sleep. I don't need to be looking for little red pussies while I'm hungover."
"Fair enough," Alex agreed after a small pause. "But that's just for tonight. If you faceplant tomorrow, all bets are off."
"Okay," Chris said, dropping his empty beer bottle on the floor. It wasn't the best deal in the world, but it was the best he was going to get. He'd just have to stay awake tomorrow. Or fall asleep in a supply closet somewhere.
"Awesome," Alex said, getting to his feet. He moved to stand in front of Chris, stopped for a second, then shrugged his shoulders and jumped onto Chris' lap. Only it wasn't quite as affable as it sounded; Alex went from a standing start to burying his knees into Chris belly. His upper body crashed heavily into Chris' head on account of the stupid fuck misjudging where the back of the chair was.
Chris felt the air whoosh out of him and there was a perilous moment where he though he might actually throw up. When it passed, he found his face was smooshed against Alex's chest and he was fairly certain he was going to get some sort of friction burn if Alex didn't stop moving around and get the fuck off him.
"Dude," Chris managed to say, but it was muffled in Alex's t-shirt. Alex let up slightly and Chris felt a little spark of relief that turned out to be extremely short lived. Chris could see Alex had found the back of the chair, but that just meant he was trying to sort his legs out, which in turn meant that he was digging his knees into Chris' hips and coming dangerously close to crotching him in the process. "DUDE," Chris said again, only this time he punched Alex in the ribs to get his point across. Alex grunted, jerked wildly, flailed momentarily, then wrapped his arms around Chris' head in an effort not to fall off the chair.
There was a small moment where they both shoved at each other - Chris in an effort to get his face back and Alex in an effort not to fall on his ass - then they settled and Chris was delighted to discover his balls didn't hurt.
"Okay, what the shit was that?" he asked.
"I was getting comfortable," Alex replied. His shins were resting flush on Chris' thighs, his knees were buried in Chris' hips and his feet were pushing at the inside of Chris' legs. As comfort went, that wasn't it.
"I don't thi-"
"No take backs, dude," Alex cut him off. "I'm tongue kissing you and you can't stop me."
"I wasn't going to take anything back, dumbass,” Chris said. “I was just going to point out that you missed comfortable by about three states."
Alex shrugged. "You'll live."
There was another pause that contained some pointed shuffling, and then Chris asked the inevitable. "How we doing this?"
"I'm all for the direct approach,” Alex replied, “but if you'd like me to treat you like a delicate flower, we can do that."
"Eat me," Chris said. He shifted slightly and felt Alex's fingers dig into his shoulders in warning. Chris smiled and moved his arms from where they rested on Alex's legs to the arms of the chair and back again. He shifted a little bit more just to annoy Alex, and then looked up. "Okay, lay one on me."
Alex did.
He bent down quickly and pressed a closed-mouth kiss against Chris' lips, like he was testing the waters. Chris wasn't stupid enough to think Alex was giving him an out, though. In this instance, as with so many others, Chris was simply along for the ride. Alex pulled away a little before bumping their lips together again, and again, until he was comfortable enough to stick around longer.
Chris felt Alex's stubble rasp and scratch against his own as Alex tilted his head to find a comfortable position, and then he sort of settled into the kiss and Chris had the chance to respond.
Alex's lips were surprisingly soft and the feel of his stubble wasn't as weird as Chris first thought it might be. Take out the stubble, and he actually reminded Chris of many of the girls he'd kissed. Chris smiled involuntarily at the thought and Alex took it as an invitation to start in with some tongue action. Unlike before, however, there was nothing experimental about that. Chris felt Alex's hand move from the back of the chair to his neck, and then up to his jawline. His thumb ghosted over Chris' chin, then pressed firmly at it, urging him to open his mouth wider to give Alex better access. When he complied, Alex shoved his tongue into Chris' mouth. It was slick and warm and unexpectedly pleasant.
Chris could feel Alex's fingers on his jaw and neck. Alex's thumb was still pressing gently against his chin, and he would press down hard whenever Chris' mouth threatened to close a little too much. Chris was a little surprised when Alex's other hand gently cupped at the back of his head before the fingers curled in his hair tightly, pulling a few strands loose.
Chris moved his hands too; one up to Alex's hip, where he gripped hard, and the other to Alex's neck, where Chris pulled him further into the kiss as a response to the hold Alex had on his hair. He figured if this was going to happen, it may as well happen right.
The whole thing was strange in a completely inappropriate sort of way, but Chris wasn't going to sweat it. The act itself was very pleasant, and if it wasn't for the stubble scraping against his face and the occasional hair being pulled from his head, Alex could be interchangeable with a dozen or more of the women Chris had done this with.
There was no immediate smack of intensity or the feeling of this being a prelude to something more, just the feeling of familiarity that Chris always associated with Alex.
When the kiss ended, it ended without ceremony. Alex pulled back, bumped a final closed-mouthed kiss to Chris' lips and that was it. He withdrew his hands, allowing Chris to do the same, and sat back on his feet precariously. Alex reached up and swiped his thumb over his lips in a thoughtful kind of way, like he'd just been given an interesting idea and was letting it settle in his head.
"I'm never going to unsee that, you fuckers," a voice said suddenly from somewhere behind Chris' left shoulder.
Chris twisted his head around to find Jay staring at them. He was wrapped from armpits to waist in toilet paper. Chris thought it said a lot about their lives that that particular sight wasn't new.
"Uh," said Chris. He wasn't particularly bothered about being caught necking with his best friend, but the situation seemed to call for an explanation. Or at least some words.
"He had an eyelash," Alex said after a short pause, pointing at Chris' face. It was a truly ridiculous thing to say and it clarified nothing. It was also unsurprising that Alex said it. Chris felt a smile spread across his face, though his amusement wasn't mirrored by Jay.
"'An eyelash', my black ass," Jay said. He put his hands on his hips and rustled loudly.
"Your very fine and beautifully sculpted black ass," Alex said immediately. "Don't sell yourself short, man."
There were times in their friendship where Chris honestly didn't know if Alex was being sincere or if he was just being an annoying little fuck because it came naturally. This was one of those times.
"Shut up," said Jay.
"Aw, c'mon, man," Alex said. "Can't a guy compliment another guy on his ass?"
"No. No, he can't," Jay said immediately. "In fact, you're not allowed to look at my ass. Ever."
"Okay, Jay," Alex said. He held a hand up in surrender. "I'll try to not look at your pretty ass. But y'know, a guy has needs."
Jay shot Alex a look that was both suspicious and vaguely terrified at the same time. "What do you mean, 'needs'?"
"Needs," Alex said, explaining nothing. "You know, needs."
Jay squinted (though Chris was fairly certain he meant to narrow his eyes) and backed up slightly. The movement made him rustle more. "If you come near me, Shelley, I'll throw you off the balcony,"
"Dude, that's not fair," Chris said. It took a monumental effort to get the sentence out without smiling. "You can't threaten a guy just because he might find your ass attractive. He can't help having needs."
"He's right," Alex said before Jay could reply. "You're invalidating my feelings, Jay. What's up with that?"
"Invalidating your..." Jay trailed off. Chris could see the wheels working slowly behind his eyes. Jay was trying to figure out if they were serious or not, which meant he and Alex totally still had it. Chris needed to high five someone to celebrate his awesomeness.
"It's okay," Alex said, affecting a wounded tone. He sighed heavily and clambered off Chris lap (thank Christ). "I understand that most guys just can't handle the attraction they evoke in others. Is this why you don't get much pussy?"
"What?" Jay said. It sounded like he'd choked on his own tongue. The incredulity in his tone made the laughter that Chris had been desperately holding spill past his lips. It was a miracle for the ages that he managed to keep it quiet.
"Hey, man," Alex continued, taking a step towards Jay. "There's no need to sound so surprised. We all know about your bad luck with the ladies. We just figured it was because your flirting technique was very reminiscent of a mentally challenged sex offender with facial herpes, but now we know different." Alex paused while Jay blinked stupidly. After a moment, Jay opened his mouth to speak but Alex got there first. "Don't worry though, me and Chris and the rest of the guys were thinking about stepping in to help -"
"Yeah," Chris said, biting down his laughter long enough to speak. "We've all got rats we'd rather not see again."
"Ignore him," Alex said soothingly. Chris went back to laughing. Alex took another step towards Jay and Chris was delighted to see Lethal take a step back. Alex must have been too, because he took another step forward. “He doesn't understand your plight.”
"Stop right there, Shelley, you dick," Jay said. He held a hand out in an effort to keep Alex back. It didn't work, and Chris watched gleefully as Jay backed himself into the wall. "I know you're trying to fuck with me, and it won't work. I'm drunk, not retarded. And I can see you laughing, Sabin, you fucktard."
"Jay," Alex said seriously, while Chris started to wheeze. "I would never fuck with you. I'd just admire you from afar."
Then, to Chris' utter delight, Alex leaned forward and licked the length of Jay's out stretched hand. The look of shock on Jay's face a second before he yelped and snatched his hand back would keep Chris in laughter for years. "What the fuck was that?!" Jay demanded. He held his hand like it was a broken, violated little thing, which, Chris supposed, it kind of was.
Alex shrugged and actually managed to look a bit abashed; Chris would have been in awe if his ribs weren't in agony. "I had to taste you."
Jay sputtered a moment, and Chris laughed out loud. The sound died fairly quickly on account of Chris not being able to breathe, but through the tears he watched Jay narrow his eyes, open his mouth to say something, snap it shut and head for the bathroom.
"Jay?" Alex called after him. "Jay, man, where you going? Jay! Does this mean you don't want my help?" Jay ignored him and slammed the door. Chris heard the bolt slide home a second later. "Guess not," Alex said, then went on, louder, "It's okay dude, we can talk about this in the morning."
For a second, there was incomprehensible muttering from behind the bathroom door, then things went quiet. Chris was kind of glad. He'd reached the point of laughter where he was in danger of pulling an actual muscle if he kept doing it. He took a few deep breaths in an effort to ease his aching belly (then laughed some more because he really couldn't help it) as Alex came back to lean against the chair.
“You do know what you're doing is officially called giggling now, right?” Alex asked as he got comfortable. Chris nodded his answer but couldn't stop. Weed had that affect on him.
"Y'know," Chris began. He was trying to stop laughing, but the remembered look on Jay's face was making it hard. "One of these days he really is going to hit you."
"I know," Alex smiled. "The unpredictability is what makes it fun."
Chris let out a last, soft huff of laughter that sent a warning ache through his ribs. After a moment, he shifted slightly to get a little more comfortable - the chair was going to be his bed, after all - and the room fell silent. Minutes passed and Chris felt the weight of sleep pressing at his eyes again. Now that the entertainment was over, the sleepy haze was starting to come back. He prodded Alex in the head.
Alex flapped a hand at the spot where he'd been poked. "What?”
"Remember your promise, dude," Chris said, yawning loudly. "No drawing on this unconscious guy."
"You're going to sleep already?" Alex asked in a tone that said Chris was both a pussy and a traitor for bowing out so early.
"Damn straight," Chris smiled. "For the first time in a dozen parties I can sleep without having to worry about what I'm going to look like when I wake up. This is an opportunity that shouldn't be squandered."
"Jerk," Alex muttered, and Chris smiled wider and settled back in his chair to get some sleep.