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Accepting a glass of cheap whiskey was not part of Javier’s plan for the night. He meant to sleep early, wake at dawn, finish his chores before Grimshaw could fuss, maybe even go rob something worthwhile. Things that actually mattered.
Instead, Javier was a fool and took the whiskey Micah offered, despite knowing exactly how the night would end.
They would drink and drink some more, until eventually Javier woke up passed out either on the table, ground, or in his tent with a god-awful hangover and had wasted his time on Micah rather than anything else.
One sip became two, one glass became another.
Eventually, Javier found himself drunk. It was not the first time he ended up like this, slumped beside Micah, nearly leaning into him like some saloon girl, giggling, actually giggling, at something that rat-faced bastard said.
And it certainly wouldn’t be the last time.
Micah’s voice rumbled out with a grunt, “I coulda sworn I heard you say,” Micah took a quick sip right from the bottle before continuing, his eyes latched onto Javier like he might disappear the second they slipped, “that you would never drink with me again.”
Javier let out a small huff of a laugh. “Guess I… couldn’t stay away.” Using a finger, he nudges his now empty glass over to Micah, hinting. “From the liquor, of course.” He added, not missing the curl on Micah’s face at the answer, clearly pleased.
Micah leans forward, holding the bottle close and letting the contents pour into the glass until it was full, all while keeping eye contact with Javier.
With him so close, Javier caught the sharp scent of tobacco and whiskey, and he was certain Micah could smell the rosewater he dabbed on every morning.
Silence went on for a moment before a small, stifled giggle slipped from Javier’s throat for no real reason. Micah’s eyes crinkled at it before leaning back slightly, the quietness now affecting both of them.
Javier breaks the not quite uncomfortable silence by grabbing his now full glass of whiskey and bringing it to his lips, eyes locked on Micah’s as he took a sip, then downed all of it in one go.
“You’re drinking that awfully fast,” Micah mumbles out as Javier swallows down the burn in his throat while placing the cup down hard on the table, breathing caught as the buzz in his head sharpens. “Surprising, considering you always call yourself refined.”
Javier lets out a small hum as a reply, trying not to dissolve into another pathetic fit of laughter. He raises his now empty hand, formerly occupied by the drink, up to his face, and while averting his eyes away from Micah, though it didn’t help the feel of Micah’s gaze on him, Javier tucks a runaway strand of hair behind his ear, quite bashfully.
Micah’s gaze follows the hair and his jaw tightens as he speaks, “Why’re you always strutting around with such… fancy, pretty hair for an outlaw? Should cut it.”
Javier rolls his eyes at the common insult Micah enjoys to tease about. Though this time it did feel different. More… charged. “Do you really mean that?” Javier turns back to Micah, his hair already falling out again over his eye, making Micah look caught in a brief, sudden trance. “Do you think I should cut my hair?”
Micah looks briefly stunned before shaking his head. “Nah… If you did, I would have fewer things to poke fun at you for.”
Javier laughed a bit like that, almost sounding like a girlish giggle, which he silently cursed himself for letting slip. Micah chuckles too, that irritating laugh that would usually make Javier want to swing at him just to shut him up.
But drunk, Javier lets it slide.
It is not all bad, not when his head is buzzing and his ears are ringing.
Javier suddenly stands up, a hand instinctively going to Micah’s shoulder to keep balance as he wobbles a bit. All he needed now was to fall over and embarrass himself further.
“I think... I think that’s enough for me.”
Micah didn’t move an inch away from the touch. In fact, he leaned towards it by the slightest amount. “Aw, leaving so soon? The night’s just getting interesting.” He looked genuinely disappointed at Javier’s departure.
Javier’s gaze flicks to him for a moment, his hand lingering a moment too long, thumb brushing down, almost to Micah’s collarbone. “Some of us have chores tomorrow, Micah. We can’t all sleep ‘til noon.”
Micah’s voice goes soft, practically purring, unusual for the man who’s often spitting insults at everyone. “I’d wake up early if I had a good reason to.”
Javier pauses at that, swallowing hard and feeling a bit dazed from the alcohol, he swears to himself. He pulls his hand back, muttering quickly as he steps away, “Goodnight, Micah. Thanks for the drinks.”
Micah watches him depart, a smirk on his lips as he says, “Anytime, pretty boy.” Micah lifts his glass as Javier stumbles away, nearly falling, a hand pressed to his temple.