Chapter Text
Vincent's eyes are liquid, watery . August often compared them to mountain rivers: just as clean, fast and transparent.
Now, when they are standing together in the toilet of some shabby pub, Vincent's eyes are turbid like puddles on the streets of Stockholm. This is probably a sign, a sign that Vincent has had enough for today, but he needs to, he just needs to catch up.
Vincent in a playful mood today, in the mood to call August from some damn important meeting, in the mood to drag him around the most seedy places in Stockholm, in the mood to drink whiskey by the glass, in the mood to lay out a line of coke on the windowsill in the toilet of this shitty pub, in the mood...
– Vince, that's enough.
Vincent raises his head from the coveted line, not having managed to snort a gram. Well, maybe he inhaled something, but it's not enough, bitch, not enough.
"Don't fucking tell me that, princess, you understand," Vincent struggles to put his words together and it seems he feels drunk for the first time that evening, but still, after a minute's delay, he finishes his thought, "or else I'll fuck your highness, got it."
August finds it funny and scary. Funny, because Vince's words sound too serious. Scary, because suddenly, at three in the morning, while guarding a drunk Vincent in the toilet, he understands, finally clearly and distinctly understands that he loves this idiot. He loves him not in a friendly or brotherly way, because people don't look at friends and bros like that, don't think about them like that,
don't
kiss
them
like that.
Vincent doesn't immediately understand that he is being kissed, that August is kissing him, kissing him. Yes.
But when the neuron with this information reaches the cerebellum, or whatever it is that Vincent has in his head, with a delay, he doesn't need any extra signs or invitations to grab hold of fucking August's curls and kiss him back, kiss him the way he's always wanted, no, the way he couldn't even imagine. August's lips are dry, slightly chapped, but soft, Vincent deepens the kiss before pulling away and looking at August, like back then, their first meeting in Hillersk.
Agge... – Vincent smiles happily, gently intertwining their fingers together.
Vince. – August smiles back.
And at that moment, there's no one else in the world except them.
– Let's go home, Vince, you've really had enough.
And Vincent obeys. Because he really has had enough, and arguing with this bastard is, in fact, absolutely useless.