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“maybe if i won,” george says with owlish eyes, voice shaky but distinctively his, “toto would like me better.”
bodies move against each other and it’s too hot to be drinking on a night like this. especially after the doctors have classed him as concussed and someone who should definitely not be having drinks.
the drink sloshes around in his neon glass and the sticky liquid lands on his fingers.
alex watches the sheen of george’s chin, a mixture of spit and unswallowed resentment dribbling down from his lip as he tries to go for another sip of this drink that couldn’t be any good for him.
“i don’t think that’s good for you, georgie,” alex confirms, sounding like a fucking lawyer with his voice that sounds like it overwhelms his own larynx – or whatever the hell it was called, george didn’t go to medical school like everyone would’ve liked.
“no, but,” voice hoarse and vision fuzzy from an absence of sleep he can’t really remember, “i think –”
the drink spills out of his hands, his white shirt now pink.
alex laughs, tilting his head to the side as he looks at george. “well, you look like whatever that new movie was about – you know the one that came out july with oppenheimer? oh, there we go, barbie.”
“mhm,” george lets a frown tug at his face. he was planning on drinking that, actually. “did we not watch it together?”
“i think, something like that,” alex replies, voice the same tumultuous flow it sort of sounds like in general. it just sounds so thick. or maybe george’s ears are feeling a little more sensitive than normal.
“maybe toto would have liked me better if i won,” he repeats.
alex doesn’t pay attention again. george thinks that’s a bad trait and just huffs out in irritation. he’s drunk, but he’s not absent. not absent like alex, at least.
george catches alex looking for lily again. he can’t help but roll his eyes a little at that. of course.
“i was about to win, too,” george insists, knowing that alex lacked attention, “the DRS –” what DRS? “– and genuinely, i think i could have managed the win, and,” his own mind is traitorous, vision fuzzy and mind fuzzier.
when alex doesn’t pay attention, george tries the next best thing.
“i think lewis is going to sign with ferrari,” he calls over the noise in the lounge. alex stills, arm still wrapped around george’s shoulders and face pressed against george’s cheek. george does not think they are friends with the way they are together, a little too close to be called platonic, maybe. “i saw him talk to fred.”
he loves fiercely. he doesn’t know if alex does the same. he barely hears anything about lily, actually.
“who’s the second merc seat for, georgie?” alex grins against george’s cheek, missing his ear when he tries to whisper as discreetly as a drunken man could do.
“you know who,” george huffs out.
“right, of course.”