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Tracey hated New Year’s.
Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely accurate. He didn’t hate the start of another year, or the way champagne felt on his tongue, or even the fact that he had never had a New Year’s kiss.
What he hated was the fireworks. They agitated the pokémon (Tracey had spent two hours returning all of them to their poké balls so they wouldn't be upset all night), made Pallet Town’s usually clean air smell like smoke, and they were loud.
Which brought him back to the champagne. He wasn’t usually the drinking type, not a fan of the bitterness of alcohol or the way it slowed down his thoughts and made his movements clumsy, but on nights like tonight? It mercifully dulled his senses and made the noise outside almost bearable.
Professor Oak always gave Tracey a look of understanding and a warning to take it easy, and Tracey usually did. But those fireworks were really bothering him this year. He loved the people of Pallet Town, for the most part, but he kind of wanted to kill whoever had been setting off fireworks nonstop since the sun went down.
“Holy shit,” Gary said lightly from behind him. When had Gary gotten there? “You’re thinking your homicidal thoughts out loud again, buddy. It might be time to ease up on the champagne. How much have you had?”
“Wasn’t counting,” Tracey answered, feeling his words already starting to blur together. “And don’t tell me what to do.”
Gary put his hands up in mock surrender as he circled around to join Tracey on the couch. “Okay, okay. Do whatever you want, I’m just saying if you don’t slow down, you’re gonna regret being born when the sun comes up. Trust me, I speak from experience.”
“I’ll be fine,” Tracey said, though he was a little less sure of that than he had been earlier. Another bang! made him wince, and though he already felt dizzy, he refilled his glass. The bottle was almost empty, but that couldn’t have been all him, right? Professor Oak had had a glass before heading off to bed, and Gary had definitely had a few—Tracey recognized his relaxed posture and the beginning of a flush on his face, accentuating the faint splashes of freckles on his cheeks and across the bridge of his crooked nose.
He was beautiful.
Tracey really needed to refrain from voicing that thought out loud.
“Whatever you say,” Gary replied, not even bothering to hide his skepticism. “But when you get violently sick later, I’ll be here to say ‘I told you so.’”
Tracey recognized the second, more implicit promise there—after how many of Gary’s hangovers Tracey had patiently nursed him through, bringing him toast and water and generous doses of painkillers, holding his hair back if needed, he wasn’t enough of an ass to not return the favor.
“I know you will, Gary,” Tracey said. “You can leave me alone now.”
“Drinking alone, on New Year’s?” Gary gasped theatrically, putting a hand over his heart. “I would never leave you to that. The only thing sadder would be if you were were working. Besides, I don’t like the fireworks either, so share the champagne.”
With that, he took the bottle and refilled his own glass, movement as smooth as if it were his first drink of the night.
Tracey tried not to think too hard about the fact that despite being much shorter and slighter, Gary could probably drink him under the table without breaking a sweat. Mostly because he didn't want to think about how Gary had built up that kind of tolerance at twenty—he'd only been legally old enough to drink in Kanto for four months.
There was another concern on his mind, though, about what Gary had said. "You don't have a migraine, do you?"
Gary definitely wasn't acting like he had a migraine, but he had a high pain tolerance, and it'd be just like him to push through the pain to annoy Tracey for as long as possible.
"Not yet, but whoever keeps firing those things might get me there if they don't fuckin' stop," Gary muttered, and Tracey was caught off guard by the crack in his cheerful facade. But his relaxed smile swiftly returned as he sipped his drink, like nothing had happened. "I'm surprised you haven't switched to something stronger at this point if you're aiming to get hammered."
"You think I should?"
"On second thought, no," Gary said. "I don't wanna watch you send yourself into a coughing fit trying to get down one sip of whiskey. Besides, a lightweight like you will be feeling that plenty soon enough."
Tracey opened his mouth to protest, but… Gary wasn't wrong on either count. Not that he was about to admit that to Gary's smug face. "Asshole."
"You know you love me," Gary said, unfazed.
"Sometimes," Tracey replied, as if there had ever been a single second he didn't love every fiber of Gary's being, every cell, every molecule, every atom that made up that beautiful, brilliant little brat.
Even if Gary was being really aggravating right now.
"After everything I've done for you." Gary brought a hand to his heart again, feigning hurt. "That's cold, Trace."
The dramatics were so cute it was hard for Tracey to stay annoyed, and maybe that was the entire point of what Gary was doing. Some kind of distraction to lighten the mood.
But before much of Tracey's bad mood could melt, there came another bang! sounding entirely too close for comfort. Praying to whatever higher power might be listening that it hadn't just set something on fire, Tracey swiftly downed the rest of his drink. And promptly choked on it.
"There's that coughing fit," Gary said, sounding entirely too amused even as he gently patted Tracey's back. "Easy, easy."
It was an agonizingly long time before the coughing subsided.
"Sorry," Tracey managed to say once he'd mostly caught his breath. Lightheaded and uncomfortably warm, he realized he'd made a mistake.
He'd definitely overdone it. Which meant he should probably step away from the alcohol.
Standing up, he managed to take all of two steps before the room was spinning and he couldn't remember which way was which. He shut his eyes with a groan.
A hand rested on his shoulder. "Hey, easy, buddy. You have somewhere to be all of a sudden? I don't think so. Let's sit back down."
Gary gently guided him back onto the couch. "Stay put and try not to puke on yourself, okay? I'll be right back."
Off went Gary's hurried footsteps, and Tracey knew better than to try to move now. Head swimming, he curled into himself.
Worst of all, the fireworks were still going.
If only he could stand up. He really wanted to give whoever was doing that a piece of his mind. How was Gary so calm?
Gary soon returned, and Tracey looked up to see him carrying a glass of water in one hand and a little trash can in the other. He sat beside Tracey. "If you need to puke, here's something for that." He put the trash can down on the floor. "Now you're gonna drink some water, because you'll hate yourself in the morning if you don't."
Tracey shook his head with a groan.
"No, none of that," Gary admonished. "I've been through this enough times to know what I'm talking about. You don't have to drink all of it if you think you'll just puke it back up, but I'm not gonna stop bugging you until you at least take a few sips. Come on, Trace. Trust me on this."
Reluctantly, Tracey accepted the glass. He took a sip and immediately had to swallow hard against the bile rising in his throat. He pushed the glass back into Gary's hand with another shake of his head.
"Shit, you can't even handle water now?" Gary no longer looked amused. His expression was softer now, brows drawn together in concern. "Okay, let's give your system a minute to calm down. Just take it easy, buddy."
Gary's hand ran gently down the length of his spine and back up in steady, rhythmic motions. It didn't help with the dizziness or the taste of acid in the back of his throat, but it felt nice, and he relaxed into the contact, slumping against Gary's lean-muscled shoulder. His senses definitely felt hazier now, at least, everything a blur aside from the sensation of Gary's touch.
"I hate to say I told you so, but…"
"No, you don't," Tracey said, stumbling over the words. A hiccup jolted painfully through his body. "You love being right."
"You know me so well," Gary replied. "But I wish I'd been wrong this time. I didn't want this to happen to you, you know."
"I know." Tracey knew better than to think Gary would take any pleasure in his condition; Gary loved to be a pest, but he wasn't cruel.
"Do you need anything?" Gary asked, voice startlingly soft.
Tracey shook his head against Gary's shoulder, shutting his eyes against the ensuing dizziness. "Please just… keep doing what you're doing."
"You're so easy to please," Gary said. "Don't puke on me, okay? You're not getting a New Year's kiss if you puke."
"What?" Since when was that on the table?
"What?" Gary shrugged. "You're cute."
"You—" he paused, swallowing back his nausea, not feeling particularly cute right now "—think I'm cute?"
"Have you seen yourself? Those growlithe eyes are an objective fact." Maybe Gary was drunker than Tracey had realized.
But before Tracey could respond, another hiccup jolted through him and he tasted bile. He swallowed hard.
"Shit," Gary said. "Okay, you're gonna puke tonight, so you might as well stop fighting it and get it over with. Lemme grab that trash can."
Reluctantly, Tracey raised his head so Gary could move. With dizzying speed, Gary had grabbed the trash can and placed it gently on Tracey's lap, holding it steady with one hand while the other patted his back encouragingly.
It wasn't long before another wave of nausea hit, and he gave into it with a painful retch, insides spasming violently. It burned, and he already wanted it to be over, but another retch seized him immediately after the first, and he had no choice but to keep going.
Gary's hand remained gentle on his back, voice murmuring soothingly as he heaved his guts out.
When he finally finished, throat burning and abdominal muscles aching, he slumped against Gary again with a miserable groan.
Then Gary was offering him the glass of water again. "Yeah, yeah, I know you feel like shit, but alcohol dehydrates you and puking dehydrates you more. You need fluids or you're only gonna feel worse."
Reluctantly, Tracey took the glass and a few tentative sips. "I don't like how much you know about this."
"Sure comes in handy though, doesn't it?" Gary said, and his tone was light, but there was something in his eyes like he didn't like it either. "Don't make a habit of this and neither of us has to think about it."
"Trust me, I won't." Never again. He took a few more sips of water, hoping to clear the bitterness of acid and alcohol from his mouth.
"Good," Gary said, finishing his glass of champagne with a rueful smile. "It's nearly midnight. Maybe after that they'll stop the fireworks and we can go to bed."
"We?" Tracey echoed. "Together?"
"Not what I meant, Trace," Gary said evenly. "But come to think of it, someone's gotta make sure you don't choke on your own vomit. That'd be a really embarrassing way to go out."
Tracey shuddered at that thought, but a thrill shot through him at the idea that Gary intended to go to bed with him. Now he had two reasons to feel dizzy.
Speaking of which, he was so dizzy. "I'm never drinking again."
"Good call," Gary said.
"I'm really drunk."
"I noticed." Gary was giving him a bemused smile now, head tipped slightly to the side.
"You're pretty," Tracey said without thinking about it. It wasn't scary to say anymore.
"Okay, you need to go to bed." Gary stood up, holding out a hand. "Come on, up we go."
Tracey tried to take Gary's hand, but missed. Before he could fumble for it more, Gary took his hand instead, grip warm and firm.
Gary pulled him to his feet with a grunt, wrapping an arm around him to keep him steady. "Oof. That's it, big guy. You're heavy, by the way. How are you still such a lightweight?"
The only response Tracey could come up with was a tired shrug.
With an amused look, Gary guided Tracey to the stairs.
Climbing a flight of stairs when he could barely remember which way was up did not seem like a good idea, but Gary's steadying touch remained as they took the first step.
They continued like that, step after unsteady step, for… Tracey wasn't sure how long. But then they were at the top of the stairs, heading for his room.
Tracey dropped heavily onto the bed, spent. Without hesitation, Gary joined him, heaving a sigh and then propping up on an elbow. His eyes were on Tracey, expression soft.
The clock must've struck midnight, but the sudden barrage of fireworks outside felt far away as Gary's lips pressed against Tracey's and his heart skipped several beats.
"I thought you said I wasn't getting a New Year's kiss?"
"I changed my mind," Gary said, lifting his shoulder in a lazy half-shrug.
"I love you," Tracey said.
"You're so drunk," Gary replied. "I love you too. Now get some rest."
"I mean I love you, love you," Tracey clarified, because it wasn't scary now but he already knew he wouldn't be brave enough to say it in the morning.
Gary looked at him like he'd said something hilariously stupid. "Yeah, that was what I meant too. Hence why I kissed you. Now go to sleep, we can plan a date when you're sober."
Not having the energy for much else, Tracey nodded tiredly, feeling Gary nestle against him as sleep took hold.
Gary headed to Tracey's room with a glass of water, a plate of toast, and a bottle of painkillers to find Tracey exactly as he'd been when Gary left—groaning into a pillow.
He looked up at Gary's return, and Gary gave him a sweet smile. "How're you feeling, sunshine?"
"Get bent," Tracey replied, burying his face in the pillow again.
"I'd love to, but I don't think you're up for that right now," Gary said, amused—Tracey's pain definitely wasn't funny, but his grumpiness and choice of words were a little funny. "Take some painkillers and then we can talk about that. Maybe we should start with planning our first date though."
That response was enough to get Tracey to choke back a laugh despite himself, then lift his head again, expression fondly exasperated. "You're impossible."
"I know," Gary said, sitting beside him and setting the water and toast on his nightstand, then opening the pill bottle. "But you love me anyway. We went over that last night, I'm not sure if you remember. Here, take two of these."
Pushing himself up into a sitting position, Tracey accepted the medicine. When Gary handed him the glass of water next, he took a few apprehensive sips and then drank deeply, emptying half the glass before he put it down again. "Thanks, Gary."
"Don't mention it." Gary ran his hand down the length of Tracey's spine. "Take it easy, okay? Grandpa knows you're sick, nobody's gonna expect anything from you today."
Tracey relaxed into his touch and slumped against him, eyes closing. Gary reached up to run his hand through soft, dark hair. If it helped when Gary had a migraine, it would help now, considering just how hard his migraines were to soothe.
They sat in companionable silence for a while, long enough that Gary was starting to wonder if Tracey had dozed off, before Tracey spoke up: "About that date…"
Instantly, Gary was alert. "What about it? Did you have something in mind?"
"How about that little coffee shop in Pewter you like?" Tracey suggested, his confidence making Gary wonder how much he'd thought about it. "We can go to the museum while we're there too. I know you love that aerodactyl skeleton."
Warmth blossomed in Gary's heart at being so casually seen. How long had Tracey wanted to take him on a date? "I'd like that. But for now… just rest, okay? We've waited this long, another day or two is nothing."
He felt Tracey nod against his shoulder. "Right. I'm not sure it'd be safe for me to drive right now."
"You think I'm letting you drive? That's cute." Like Gary would ever hand driving privileges to anyone else. "Anyway, I'm gonna cover for you in the lab today, but I'll be back to check on you. Let me know if you need anything, okay?"
"Okay," Tracey replied. He lifted his head off Gary's shoulder to meet his gaze with a tired smile, dull-eyed but earnest. "Thanks, Gary. For everything."
"It's nothing, I know you'd do the same for me," Gary said. "You literally have. It's about time I returned the favor."
Tracey brought a hand to his temple with a groan. "Ugh, I wish you didn't have to."
"Lesson learned for next time, huh?" Gary gave him a consoling pat on the shoulder. "Now try and sleep this off."
Obediently, Tracey lay down, nestling into the pillows again, and Gary ruffled his hair before standing. "I'll come bother you again after the pokémon get their breakfast. If you can eat that toast and keep it down, I'll bring you some real food."
Tugging the covers up a little higher, Gary leaned over to kiss Tracey's head before heading out, gently closing the door behind him.