Chapter Text
The party had crossed the line from celebration into outright disaster about an hour ago.
Javier was playing his guitar by the fire, while boots stomped the dirt into dust and spilled beer soaked straight through socks. Bottles were everywhere- whiskey, mostly, cheap and strong and doing its job a little too well.
Sean MacGuire was thriving in it.
He stood on a crate by the fire, swaying just enough that it was impressive he hadn’t fallen yet, bottle raised high like he was making a speech nobody had asked for.
“[...] and then I says to the bastard, I says, ‘that all you got?’ and he runs like a frightened rabbit!”
“That is not even close to what happened!” Lenny called, already laughing, beer bottle dangling loose in his hand.
Sean pointed at him, nearly losing his balance. “Ah, Lenny, Lenny, Lenny, you wound me. A hero tells his own story!”
“You were screaming.”
“I was not screaming.”
“You were screaming.”
“I was tactically yellin’.”
A round of laughter went up. Karen cheered, Someone else clapped, and Bill shouted something that might have been encouragement or might have been a request for more whiskey.
Sean hopped down off the crate, stumbling into Charles, who shoved him upright again without comment.
“Easy there, resurrection man,” Charles muttered.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Sean said, then immediately tripped over nothing and laughed at himself. “See? Perfectly steady.”
Lenny shook his head, smiling despite himself. “You’re gonna crack your skull open.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Sean said easily, weaving closer. “And I survived that too.”
He grabbed Lenny’s beer and took a swig without asking.
“Hey-!” Lenny protested, reaching for it.
Sean held it just out of reach, grinning. “Relax, I’ll give it back. Eventually.”
“You already drank half of your own.”
“Which is exactly why I need yours.”
Lenny rolled his eyes and grabbed Sean’s sleeve instead, tugging his arm down so he could reclaim the bottle. Their hands knocked together in the process, and neither of them moved away right away.
Sean blinked at him, grin widening. “Careful there, Lenny, people are gonna start talkin’.”
“Oh, shut up,” Lenny said, but he didn’t let go immediately either.
Sean finally released the bottle and leaned in closer than necessary. “You always this grabby when you’re drunk?”
“You’re the one stealing drinks.”
“Fair point.” Sean laughed, loud and bright, then turned and slung an arm around Lenny’s shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Come on, you’re wastin’ perfectly good party standin’ around scowlin’.”
“I am not scowling.”
“You are absolutely scowlin’.”
They stumbled a few steps together before Lenny managed to shrug Sean’s arm off, though not very convincingly.
“You’ve had enough,” Lenny said. “You’re gonna make yourself sick.”
Sean leaned in, stage-whispering, “Lenny, my friend, I have been shot, kidnapped, and very nearly executed. I think my body can handle a bit more whiskey.”
“That’s not how bodies work.”
“Well, mine’s built different.”
He snagged another bottle off a crate and took a dramatic gulp, some of it missing his mouth and running down his chin.
Lenny snorted. “Real dignified.”
“Dignity is overrated,” Sean said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “I prefer charm.”
“You are soaking wet and slurring.”
“And you’re still standin’ here with me.”
Lenny opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again when he realized he didn’t actually have a good response to that.
Someone bumped into them, jostling Lenny forward so he nearly ran straight into Sean. Sean’s hands came up automatically, gripping Lenny’s arms to steady him.
“Whoa, easy there,” Sean said, laughing. “Buy me dinner first.”
“Sean,” Lenny said, trying not to smile, “let go.”
Sean didn’t. Not right away.
He looked down at where his hands were, then back up at Lenny’s face, expression unreadable for just a second before the grin snapped back into place.
“Right. Sorry,” he said, finally stepping back. “Didn’t mean to get handsy.”
Lenny exhaled, more aware of his heartbeat than he liked. “You’re an idiot.”
“And yet, you missed me terribly.”
“Oh, don’t flatter yourself.”
“Too late, I’m already flattered.”
Sean tipped his head back, laughing, then suddenly looked around like he’d lost something. “Where’d my bottle go?”
“You left it on the crate. Again.”
“Tragic.” He grabbed another one from a passing hand. “Right, new plan. We take this, and we go somewhere Bill can't steal it.”
“That is not a real concern,” Lenny said.
Sean leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Lenny, Bill would steal the shirt off your back if he thought it was funny.”
“Okay, fair.”
Sean jerked his head toward the darker edge of camp. “Come on. Before someone tries to make me dance again.”
“You were dancing.”
“I was bein’ attacked by rhythm.”
Despite himself, Lenny followed.
They weaved past the tents, the noise dulling into background chaos instead of total overwhelm. The air felt cooler away from the fire, the night settling around them.
Sean stumbled a little, catching himself on a tent pole. “See? Escape was a brilliant idea.”
“You nearly fell.”
“Details.”
He leaned against the pole, lifting the bottle in a lazy salute. “To survival.”
Lenny clinked his beer against it. “To not getting shot again.”
“No promises.”
They drank, both of them a little too fast.
Sean wiped his mouth again and glanced at Lenny, eyes bright and unfocused. “You been awful quiet since we left.”
“Just enjoying the lack of screaming.”
Sean scoffed. “You love the chaos.”
“I tolerate the chaos.”
Sean stepped closer, invading Lenny’s space like he did with everyone when he was drunk and feeling bold. “You tolerate me?”
Lenny raised an eyebrow. “Barely.”
Sean laughed, then leaned in, voice dropping. “Liar.”
Lenny swallowed. “You’re too close.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
Sean considered that, swaying slightly. “Huh. Didn’t notice.”
But he didn’t move away.
Neither of them did.
The party noise drifted toward them in bursts of laughter and bad singing, like reminders of where they were supposed to be, but neither of them seemed particularly interested in going back just yet.
Sean tilted his head, studying Lenny’s face like it was very important he memorize it for some reason he couldn’t quite articulate.
“You got a funny look when you worry,” he said casually.
“I’m not worrying.”
“Sure you are.”
Lenny scoffed. “About you? Never.”
“Liar,” Sean repeated, smiling.
They stood there, too close, both pretending this was just another stupid drunk moment, even as the air between them started to feel thick and dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with gunfights.
Sean cleared his throat. “We should, uh… probably keep movin’. Before someone comes lookin’ for me again.”
Lenny nodded. “Yeah. Probably.”
Neither of them moved.
Sean finally gestured vaguely toward the line of tents. “I got another bottle stashed near mine.”
Lenny hesitated just long enough to pretend he was thinking about it.
Then he said, “Alright.”
Sean’s grin turned sharp and satisfied. “Knew you had good taste.”
They headed deeper into camp, laughter and lantern light behind them, neither of them fully aware yet that they were absolutely making a terrible decision—and neither of them particularly interested in stopping it.