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John had never been one for parties. He had never claimed to be. Any parties he had attended had been against his will and he had only stayed until it was socially acceptable to leave. So, while some people may have found it lonely to be curled up in bed with a book while the siren song of a party blared through the hotel walls from the room below, he just found it plain irritating. It was only a matter of time before someone filed a noise complaint with reception and he was anticipating that moment with hopeful glee. Of course, he could have rung down and protested himself, but that would involve actually interacting with another human being and his social quota had run out several hours earlier, shortly after the conference had ended.
The music was loud enough to rock the walls. Literally. The glass on the side table was vibrating as if there were a dinosaur plodding along the corridor outside. John delicately turned a page in his book and reached for his noise cancelling headphones. Sleep was not on the cards for hours yet, despite the dark skies outside. Jet lag sucked. Insomnia also sucked. He had already accepted his fate of staying awake until the early hours. He anticipated finally drifting off around four-am, which wasn’t an issue because he had a clear schedule tomorrow and besides, Gordon wouldn’t surface until around mid-afternoon given the hangover he would doubtlessly be nursing.
Ah, right. Because Gordon was one of the partygoers. Had John forgotten to mention that fascinating little detail?
Gordon had spent all of five seconds trying to persuade John to tag along before promptly slapping him on the back and vanishing after a throng of scantily clad twenty-somethings. The music hadn’t started very long afterwards but had only reached its current volume about ten minutes ago. John could hear raised voices and screeching laughter even through his headphones. He yanked a pillow over his head with a groan.
A dull thud caught his attention. He lifted the pillow to spy his phone on the carpet where it had vibrated itself off the charging port. He fumbled for it and rolled onto his back, holding it above his face to squint at the message. He’d taken out his contacts hours ago and his glasses were on the other side of the room, which was a problem given he really couldn’t be bothered to move. It had been a long day and he was comfy. The duvet was soft and warm, and the pillows had melded to the shape of his spine. It was the perfect position. He could even reach the phone if he wanted to ring for room service. Moving was distinctly not on the cards, unless someone was actively dying at which point he might consider it.
SOS, Gordon’s text read.
John blinked, rubbing his knuckles against his eyes for a moment in case he’d somehow misread the message, but no, there it was, unchanging in its contents. It made no sense, because Gordon was one of the most extraverted people John knew and he was at a party right now. Parties were, like, Gordon’s mothership or something. He thrived in that environment. Usually it was John texting Gordon for a rescue from a party – this was the sort of role reversal that he wasn’t prepared for.
J: Why?
G: It’s not fun anymore
G: I want to leave
John silently questioned how much Gordon had drunk.
J: Then leave.
He only just refrained from adding, obviously. There came another shriek from the room below. He narrowed his eyes as if the partygoers could sense his judgement from afar. He didn’t care that they were drinking or having fun but the lack of regard for everyone else in the hotel did irritate him.
His phone chimed again.
G: I can’t
J: What do you mean?
J: Find a door and walk out of it.
J: Are you too drunk to walk?
G: I’m not drunk
J: Then I don’t understand the problem.
J: If you want to leave, just leave.
Gordon’s text bubble appeared and then disappeared again. John hauled himself out of bed with a groan, because this very clearly wasn’t going to be resolved within the next five minutes and all this squinting was beginning to give him a headache. He snatched his glasses off the desk and abandoned his phone for a moment to fill a glass of water in the bathroom. When he returned, Gordon had spammed him with texts.
G: I can’t leave
G: It’s awkward
G: Okay fine but you have to promise not to laugh
G: This girl won’t leave me alone and normally I’d be down with that but I’m not vibing right now
G: If I leave she’ll try to come with me
G: John?
G: Are you still there?
G: Can you call me and pretend you’re puking or something
G: Just call me and say you need my help
G: I can put my phone on speaker so she’ll hear and then I have an excuse as to why she can’t come with me so I can escape
G: John c’mon man I’ll owe you
G: Johnny please
Several things struck him at once. He was fluent in Gordon-speak which was how he translated not vibing into feeling really shitty. Also, this girl clearly wasn’t getting the message and sure, John could have taken Gordon’s suggestion and rung him, but frankly he wanted to commit murder and that could only be achieved in person unless he wanted to hire an assassin but who could be bothered with covering up that paper trail? Not him, that was for sure.
J: I’ll be there in five.
G: Like actually?
G: Yo, WTF?
G: Are you for real?
J: Stay put. I’ll come get you.
It actually took him closer to ten minutes. He realised halfway out the door that wearing plaid PJ pants and a ratty old NASA shirt probably wasn’t appropriate and so retreated to throw a hoodie over the top and wriggle into some jeans, except the only pair he had brought with him were those ridiculous skinny jeans Penny had coerced him into buying last month and so he had to perform some form of interpretive dance to get them on. Then he nearly left his phone behind. Finally the elevator took forever and his sleep-deprived mind forgot that stairs existed.
The party had spilled into the corridor and adjourning rooms. Doors were flung open so that people could come and go as they pleased. The stench of alcohol was almost overpowering, strong enough to make his eyes water. He went to shove his hands into his pockets only the dumb jeans were too tight so instead he sort of awkwardly knitted his fingers together and tried to shuffle through the crowd without drawing too much attention to himself.
Usually, it was easy to find Gordon. All you had to do was look for the biggest cluster of people in the room and bam, Gordon would be at the centre. Today, John had less luck. He scouted the main room, ducked his head around the door to the balcony and then headed into the second room, praying he wasn’t going to have to search the entire party.
Thankfully he tracked Gordon down within ten minutes. He was leaning against a wall, cradling a cup of something strong, away from the heart of the party. At first glance he appeared relaxed, but John knew his brother’s real smile and this one was usually reserved for fending off the paparazzi. It was such a glaring red flag that it knocked alarm bells ringing in his head. He steeled himself and slid into the mostly one-sided conversation being carried by a blonde girl in a black mini dress.
Gordon looked so utterly relieved that it was almost painful. “John. Johnny. You made it.”
“As if I’d ever miss a party,” John quipped, and mentally patted himself on the back when he caught the glimmers of a real smile on Gordon’s face. He looped an arm around his brother’s shoulders and tightened his hold subconsciously when Gordon leant into him.
Blondie arched a brow. “And you are?”
“This is John,” Gordon interjected, tensing at the sound of her voice. “My brother.”
“Is he incapable of speaking for himself?”
John directed an icy smile at her. “I try to save my words for people of actual importance.” He ignored her offended gasp. “Sorry to drag you away from the party, but uh-” Crap. He probably should have thought of a lie beforehand. “-I lost the key to our room, so I need you to let me back in.”
Blondie still looked interested.
“Also,” John tacked on, finding it difficult to improvise when the music was loud enough to rattle his brain, “I think I’m gonna throw up at any second because this noise isn’t helping my headache, so we should go. Right now.”
Gordon nodded emphatically. “Yep. Don’t want you to puke on the carpet. Man, those migraines of yours get bad. I should probably stay with you, just in case. Ah crap, I’ll have to miss the rest of the party. Oh well, it was nice meeting you Jemma, I’ll see you around some time. Bye! Adios! Auf wiedersehn!”
They stumbled into the fray before Jemma could protest. Gordon caught John’s wrist to save him from the crowd taking shots and hauled him into the corridor. The elevator doors closed behind them and in the merciful silence that followed John swore his ears were ringing. He eyed Gordon suspiciously.
Gordon slumped against the elevator wall. “Thanks.” His voice was oddly small. He was twisting one of his rope bracelets around his wrist over and over. Perhaps it was the harsh lighting, but he looked distinctly pale and somewhat nauseous.
“What happened?” John asked quietly.
Gordon dragged a hand down his face and said nothing for a long minute. There was glitter smeared over his collarbone where his shirt was unbuttoned.
“It just wasn’t fun anymore.” He dropped his gaze to his sneakers. “I dunno, man. They started taking stronger stuff than just drinks and I don’t want any part of that scene. I should’ve left then. I don’t know why I didn’t.” He let out a dull laugh. “I’m an idiot.”
“Hey,” John said sternly. “I’m the only person who gets to call you an idiot.” He waited until the door was locked and they were safe in his hotel room before voicing his next query. “What was her full name?”
“Who? Jemma?” Gordon vanished into the bathroom, voice muffled as he stuck his head under the faucet to sober up from the few drinks he’d had. “No clue.”
John flopped onto the bed, not even bothering to kick off his shoes as he reached for his phone and summoned EOS. “Is she staying in this hotel?”
“Uh…” Gordon propped himself against the doorframe. “Yeah, I think so.” He frowned. “Why?”
“No reason.” John pushed his glasses back into place. “Hey, EOS? I need you to access the hotel records and find a Jemma.”
Gordon dragged a towel through his hair, still groggy as he came to sink onto the mattress beside John. He sprawled on his front and let out a pitiful whine. John patted his shoulder sympathetically.
“Two results,” EOS replied. “Ages twenty-two and forty-five respectively.”
“The twenty-two-year-old. Find her social security number.”
“Woah, hey, hey, hey.” Gordon rocketed upright, eyes wide and bloodshot. “Johnny, what the fuck? Slow down a minute.” He pushed damp hair out of his face with a sigh. “Look, she was annoying, but she didn’t do anything. It’s not even like I flat-out told her I wasn’t interested.”
John discretely texted EOS to continue with her search regardless of Gordon’s complaints because come on, his overprotective big brother instincts refused to let this go. Anyone who made Gordon uncomfortable was automatically on John’s shit list and that was a dangerous position to find yourself in.
“She was nice initially,” Gordon explained quietly, staring at the water droplets staining his jeans as his hair steadily dripped over his knees. “She just drank too much, I think. Anyway, I didn’t want to humiliate her in front of everyone so I sorta played along which was kind of a shitty move on my part because I guess I accidentally led her on? I dunno. I wouldn’t have let it go any further, so don’t go searching her social security number like a psycho.” He sighed. “It was just a crap party to be honest.”
John was not going to let the matter go but he filed that interrogation for a later date. For now his priority was cheering Gordon up because his little brother didn’t suit looking small and sad and generally like a kicked puppy.
“It’s not that late. Do you want to get some food?”
Gordon offered him a tiny smile. “Is it bad that I lowkey just want to get room service and watch some terrible movies?”
John slid off the bed and stole his PJs back on his way to the bathroom. “Order whatever you want. There’s bound to be a movie playing on one of those channels, but if it’s a rom-com I reserve the right to switch over to a documentary.”
Gordon grinned. “Deal.” He kicked his shoes off and reached for the phone. “Hey, uh, Johnny?”
John stuck his head around the bathroom door. “Yeah?”
“Thanks for the rescue.”