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He's not quite as drunk as he wants to be, he can distantly hear a ringing echoing in his ears but still a lack of stumble to his steps but for sailors that's a luxury that comes with the job. It's the complete opposite of the leaning weight against his side, Kevin, still lacking the experience of the bottle but desperately attempting to keep up with Demi and Jose's own tendency to overly indulge in dovlin.
Even Demi has a brighter flush over her cheeks, far from an unfamiliar scene for the trio; Demi is already attempting to lure Kevin into drinking another one of her latest concoctions.
It's too close to normalcy, an illogical sense of regularity; Jose can almost pinpoint exactly when Kevin will tipsily lean over his shoulder, scattering both their drinks onto the already stained table.
He can’t stifle the chuckle as he teasingly scolds Kevin "I thought you had better aim than that, Cowboy." On the other side, Demi jumps up to clean up the mess, Kevin giggling with guilt, face half hidden into Jose’s shoulder. As the last of the dovlin is soaked up, Demi shoots Jose a knowing look, a sharp nudge would be sent to his knee.
To which Jose will simply shrug his shoulders, a look too loaded for any conversation to be held any time soon. He already knows of his disposition and finally announces Kevin's done for the night. It’s one of the few times Jose seems to have an upper hand on the cowboy as he fully clings onto Jose and all Jose can do is tightly wrap his arm around Kevin's waist.
It'll take the duo an embarrassingly long time to make it to Kevin's room, Kevin seamlessly running through topics faster than Jose can process. He’s never heard someone talk at such a rate where the letters blur into each other.
Both grasps will fail to loosen as Jose attempts to settle Kevin into bed, the covers already ruffled up and messily waiting for Kevin. As if on cue, Kevin tumbles into bed, grasping firm on Jose, an attempt to keep the lingering warmth till eventually Jose will be trapped between Kevin and the wall.
After all, he never seems to gather the strength to pull himself out of Kevin's bed. Easily curling around Kevin, the warmth of the alcohol and night keeping the both of them strictly stuck together, it's the only touch Jose recognizes. It's all so comical, it makes his stomach lurch because for a slight moment–it feels like he's home.
He used to imagine–a daydream-like state of the creatures he could find on the water. Imagination running wild, re-telling stories from when his father had whispered to him during the last of the lingering days of childhood. It all seems like child plays in the grand aspect of his life now for all he can imagine is what he once dreamed through.
He used to spend the afternoon into the night with Demi. The bar that once held their friendship compacted together, still alive and bursting with people. For a moment, the only moment offered, he’s back in the haze.
He knows he’s drunk, vague memories of the past voyage drifting in and out of his mind. Not having been back on land for long, he can taste the distant salty and dryness of his mouth. He raises his head from where he was once buried onto his own arms–must have accidentally fallen asleep in the bar–again.
He’s sure it must be true when his drowsy eyes meet Sam’s disapproving glance. Jose’s lips curl upwards, letting out a final yawn as he stretches his arms out. Mixture of sleepiness and drunkness, allowing his arms to almost hits a few passing customers, Sam rolling his eyes in distaste. He can almost see the annoyance radiating from Sam. Eventually, he lets up with his own simmering smile when he thinks Jose’s eyes are fluttering shut from the blinding lights of the bar.
For as much annoyance as he brings to Sam’s daily life, Sam must find something of him entertaining–he hasn't figured out what exactly it is but he'll always tempt fate a little to see how far the tolerance can go. Bothering Sam becoming as common place as sailing to him.
And Sam–always the first one to indulge in work has returned back to wiping down the bar, he wonders if Sam had only recently arrived–his coat yet to be discarded. Even looking briefly at the man has Jose itching to further unbutton his own shirt. "God, how are you not burning alive in that" Jose sure his voice is a lot louder than needed but he knows it'll pull a reaction out of Sam as he glances back at Jose.
Dropping the soaking rag back on the counter, he stares back at Jose, a hand placed on his hip; "Don't get much of a chance to have a moment of silence, nonetheless take off my coat when it comes to serving the drunks" He raises a knowing eyebrow at Jose, he’s never excluded in these generalizations, of course–he wouldn't doubt that he’s first in line when Sam thinks of the varying customers surrounding the bar.
‘First on his mind’ some dark and cruel place in the back of Jose’s mind helpfully suggests. Jose’s hand tightens on the bar table as he leans further towards Sam, his mind clouding as Sam further watches him, careful and precise as ever. The bar practically glows with a sort of warmth that only comes after having more than your fair share of liquor.
"Well, you could always take a break–maybe with just one drunk" Jose’s grinning so hard his cheeks hurt, not his best move and he'll groan in embarrassment in a few months–self reflection was never his preferred skill. He’s not sure how he could want so much, his stomach filling with an odd sense of drunken risk.
He knows Sam can see right through him, he’s not sure how he always manages to catch him but from the way Sam doesn't outright say no, he considers it a victory.
“Demi–" it's funny, it always does come back to Demi no matter which angle or perspective he plays. It will always begin with Demi too. she deserves that much at least. The first few months of visiting the Bourbon Bar had led to Sam sending glares into the back of Jose’s head whenever he would show up, abruptly shortening any conversation.
He can't put too much blame on Sam after getting absolutely plastered the first night and shamelessly arguing with him over the mundane. Any true lengthy conversations were held in the early afternoon, Demi voluntarily sharing tidbits of her brother, Sam, tending to his own studies. He never really asked but he’s sure Demi had softened Sam, softened his mindset about the First Officer.
"Five minutes, I promise just a small break" Sam hesitates, Jose can see the conflict arise in his eyes, one of the few times he could fully understand Sam–the oddity of the realization sending a chill down his back as Sam eyes scan from Jose to the back door of the bar. Never one to break his promises, at least to Sam, he brought a convincing smile to his lips, hoping to soften any argument against the solitude altogether.
To his own surprise, Sam justly nods towards the door, a wordless command for Jose to lead their way out. They narrowly avoid the splishing and splashing of drinks, people huddled together and varying obstacles of chairs and tables till the cool air greets his face. A few drunks are scattered around, he maneuvers into the corner alley between the bar and the other buildings.
Too clean for the state of the buildings surrounding the building–Sam always upkeeping the narrow pathway, for once he's grateful for the attention to detail that comes seamlessly easy for Sam. Much of the noise of the bar has lured down, the quietness of the night fully taking over, stars sparkling as one of the last light sources. Jose moves further into the alley, Sam wordlessly following along, once out of the eye of anyone walking by does he lean against the wall, hips justed out to support himself.
Out of the corner of his eye, he can only see the glint of Sam's glasses against the stars, taking a place on the other side of Jose, body yet to lean on the wall. Sam's head is tilted in just the right direction, he's seen that look a million times over the years.
Although, he usually reserves the tilted eyebrows and thinned out cheeks for his latest dilemmas involving his studies. Nothing Jose could ever begin to comprehend but he tries. He's only ever known the sea while Sam's curiosity for the function around him was continuous inside any lab.
He'd seen the world in varying forms, but he can't help but return to Sam's dedication, it's the closest he's ever gotten to something so permanent. Either it be women, fellow sea men or even his own father–he had his own tendency to get antsy in the mindless cycle of being tied to another.
He's not tied to Sam, Sam groans and scolds him whenever he drinks too much, he doesn't have a complaint of the weeks carrying Jose's absence and he never indulges in any of Jose's tall tales. Yet, Sam seems to be the sole constant in his life, like the sand to the sea, always there when the waves come rolling in.
Waves clashing against the shore, he's not sure if he returns for Sam or for his own natural urge to go forward.
Sam seems none the wiser of his dilemma, he can feel the intensity of Sam's stare. As if on cue, he's back to being unable to read any of Sam's expressions, neither of them have ever been heart on your sleeve people.
Maybe that's what keeps Jose surrounding Sam, pushing and pulling against him. One of the few aspects of the world that keeps him analyzing all else. As if deciding, he lurches over and turns to Sam, his facial expression has yet to change as if expecting Jose to finally turn towards him.
He's probably that predictable to Sam at this point if he's being honest. "Sam?" His voice croaks out, just loud enough for the both of them to hear, unable to sit in silence any longer. Instead of any meaningful response, Sam's leaning into him, pressing him right back against the wall, and he lunges forward as if he was a cat jumping at its prey. Jose has half of the mind to wonder if he's finally annoyed Sam enough to get into a physical fight but it's diminished by the warmth of Sam, everything about Sam.
His lips are instantly on Jose and Jose for all his might is wide eyed. He can’t remember the last time he had been taken so off guard by something as simple as a kiss. Sam's own hands finding their way to Jose's hips–it's all so off centered. Clumsy mouths against each other and Jose is tugging him even tighter. He's not sure when his body decided this was right but he couldn't fight against how much he wanted to kiss Sam, to know if he was just as haunted by kissing the other as he was.
If Sam couldn't deny the force pulling them together every late afternoon, nothing could compare. It's like he's being split open, each lean forward, a commitment to being handed over to Sam.
This could ruin the both of them, if anyone stumbled down the alley way, Jose would be dead by the afternoon but he can only grip Sam's arm coat tighter. Don't let go, a mantra, Sam, in his own way only humming in contention. Only reluctantly stepping after a moment too long, breaking the kiss before it really begins. His hand is careful and gentle as if Jose was a spoked animal, he's pushing the wild strands of hair out of Jose's face, tucked behind his ear.
On Jose's part, he's reminded of how chilly the wind breeze seems now, his ears the only burning sensation left. Sam tries a smile at Jose, but even then Jose knows something is missing, no words are exchanged and like clockwork Sam walks back inside without him. He doesn’t bother checking his pocket watch, five minutes was merciful enough. Jose straightens out, he’s not sure where he left his coat but with what little pride he has, he’s couldn’t walk back into the bar. He couldn’t face Sam with the obvious want written all over his eyes.
Instead, he weakly begins the walk home, every bone in his body arguing against him. He tries to lick his own wounds, promises of confronting Sam the next evening falling on his own deaf ears. His own vulnerability digging at his own lack of action. It’s a dangerous game.
It's not till he half hazardly stumbles into bed, boots still on, and for the second time that night, it really is not his finest moment. The alcohol has come back for its own vengeance. Holding his stomach tightly, Jose feels the beginning of the end for something he can't even name.
An apologetic scrap tossed at him like a dog being put down the next morning. He could vomit from the earnest nature of it all, he doubts Sam would ever do that for anyone else. Even now–he can't help but soothe his confidence in the manner, illogical in all the ways that only Sam can make the world seem like.
Jose’s hands offer little assistance as he leans over his bed, his shoulders shaking and his eyes water, there will be nothing left of him in the morning. There’s no use in running off, the tell tale sign of acidic build up begins, inching closer to the top of his throat.
His father had always entrusted with him varying forms of self preservation, honest truths for their line of duty but as he hunches further off the edge, not a single memory comes back to him. Like a waterfall, it comes all at once, his head dizzy with the sudden release. He’s not even ill–The room twirls around him, swirls of color flashing through his eyes till eventually he can’t fight it anymore, "Jose" quiet, distant but he can still hear it, he knows that voice but can't picture who, memory is a funny thing.
It’s almost like a siren, he can't help but attempt to focus on the voice, the room disappearing without him. He's relayed back into what he doesn't know--"Jose! Jose, are you okay?" His eyes snap open and he's greeted by the worried expression all over Kevin's face, he doesn't bother to hide it and in a way Jose's relieved to see him, fully at least for the moment before he's overcome with lingering shame. He's drenched, sweat and tears are making a sticky connection to the heated atmosphere of the room.
He's never felt so–cut open. He almost expects his throat to still have the same sore, acidic burn feeling, his hand subconsciously reaching for his lower stomach. "Huh?" His voice sounds the smallest it's ever been, words seeminglessly disappearing, even if he wanted to go on a grand explanation of it all, his throat remained dry.
No amount of gasping for air can begin to soothe the ache, he's not even sure he would make any sense to Kevin. How could one begin to explain how real it felt? How for the first time he really felt like he saw Sam? How he feels gutted from the lingering ache of what once was? Of what could have been?
He's trembling even harder as Kevin reaches out to soothe him–like this is normal. Like he's soothed and calmed Jose through nights and stormy days, his finger tips bracing Jose's body, a steady grasp alternating from rubbing his back to his shoulders. It's a rare comfort. "Hey, hey it's just a nightmare are you alright?" Kevin maneuvers off the covers, finally meeting Jose's own trembling, wet face, he can't imagine how disgusting he looks.
He's not sure the last time he cried this hard, he used to tear up whenever his father left for sea as a young child, never full tears but enough for his mother to soothe him with a promise that the sea will one day belong to him too. How deeply wrong she had been.
Kevin doesn't hesitate, his calloused hands hold his wetting face, it's a nice change from the aggravating softness of sleep. He's not sure how Kevin managed to sober up so easily, the moon was still detailed outside the window. He doubted any real time had passed.
He's still lightly whimpering; all sense of staying strong has meaninglessly left his body even as the sleep wears off his bones. He feels the tenseness re-enter his body, same nerve-racking energy right before a match and he can't help but let the final croaking of tears, whimpers fall through his lips.
"Sorry, sorry" he whispers as his hiccups finally linger to a sniffle every few moments, Kevin's still lightly tapping his cheeks, and in a sense, it's all he can feel.
He doesn't like to think of Sam while he's here, there is no place for him here. Sam was always a fighter, vague memories of childhood stories from Demi flowing in and out of his mind, he’s a fighter but not in the traditional antsy sense. Sam always had that willing readiness as if waiting for the carpet to be pulled, always a few steps ahead of what others assumed–of what Jose assumed.
He was never meant to be trapped in the same oasis of Jose’s life and for that his body gives a final shudder.
Through the passing minutes, he urges his body to wither away the terror, his breathing is evening out, tension leaving just as quickly as it had entered his body.
His shoulders rest against Kevin as he hears the softest whisper; "I think about life back then too." Jose doesn’t even bother to ask how he knew, it's hard to think of much else in the silence of the night. He's messily sewed back into one, no other choice but to leave the scarring alone. His body lacks any complaint when Kevin pulls him back under the warmth of the covers.