milliways_bar | (no subject)

He looks sideways at him.

"I do not know what you are talking about. I am having a drink with you -- that is all."

"Sure. Great. Whatever you say."

He takes another long swig of his own, coughing slightly. "Good god, this stuff is disgusting."

He sips at his drink.

"What are you drinking?" he asks, peering at Lee from under the curtain of his hair.

"Fucked if I know. I asked the Bar for the most heavily alcoholic thing she had that wouldn't flat-out kill me." He glances irritably down into it. "I don't think she gave it to me. For all the effect it's having, this might not even be alcoholic."

Making a decision, Námo orders a pitcher of cola and another glass. When it arrives, he pours about a shot of the Atlantean into the glass and then cuts it with the cola and ice. One mixed, he scoots it toward him.

Giving the mortal straight Atlantean would not be wise, but this would still do far more than whatever else he had been drinking.

"Alcoholic and decent taste," he points out, taking another gulp of his.

He eyes it. "That stuff can get you drunk, and you're giving it to me?"

Eyeing it further.

"What the hell. I'm already dead."

He takes a sip far more generous than he should, and his vision swims. Cut or not, that stuff is insane.

"Jesus fuck, that stuff makes a Dead Yahtzee look like chocolate milk." His words are ever-so-slightly slurred.

Námo chuckles into his glass.

"I would drink that slowly if I were you, Lee," he says with another drink of his own. His head was already buzzing, but only pleasantly. "You seemed to want drunken oblivion, and I am willing to provide it."

"I would have changed my mind about that, too," he murmurs, and looks darkly up at Namo. "Quit laughing at me."

His smile remains on his face, though it is forced now.

"You could simply not drink it, too," he snaps sweetly.

He shoves the drink aside. "Fine. I won't. I'll sit here and watch you make a drunken fool of yourself for no reason, how's that?"

He glares at Lee, very still and angry. After a few minutes, he comes to a decision.

"I suppose you will have to imagine such a thing, Lee, because I will not be here to fulfill you wish."

Námo stands up, leaving his glass but snatching the bottle.

"Forgive me for intruding upon your brooding and self-loathing, and I believe I shall go make a fool of myself for no reason somewhere else."

"Hey." His voice is sharp, and he stands as well, one hand resting on the bottle.

"Leave if you feel like you have to, but at the risk of sounding patronizing, do it without the bottle, will you?"

He's angry and he's hurt and the idea of returning to his brooding and self-loathing still seems to have a few merits, but concern prevents him from being willing to let Namo go off and get drunk alone.

"I am a big boy, Lee," he sneers angrily. "I do not need your concern for my sobriety."

He knows he is now being sullen, childish, defiant, and he snatching his hand -- and the bottle -- away from Lee. What he had drunk was already swirling in his head, and his anger was quick and volatile.

Briefly, somewhere in his mind, he wonders why it is that if they aren't fucking, they tend to be arguing, but the voice is silenced quickly before he can explore the ramifications of that thought.

He discreetly grips the edge of the table to steady himself, not wanting anyone to see how intoxicated he really is.

"Will you please not do it? Please? I'm not going to fight with you, for god's sake. Not now. I don't want to."

He sets the bottle down hard, his eyes dark.

"As you wish," he says very softly, turning his back on the man, leaving the bottle behind.

He feels as though he's been slapped. The sting is there, as though the blow were a physical one. He turns his face away, flat-out refusing to let tears well up.

"Why are you doing this?" he whispers.

He stops in his tracks, his back straight and stiff.

"Doing what, Lee? Leaving you to yourself?"

"Yes. That and blowing up at me and I--I'm sorry I said that, before, about things only lasting a few months, I didn't...didn't mean to doubt you..."

He sits back down, head resting in his hands again, because he's not going to cry, he's not, he can't, but he can't stand losing Mercutio and having Namo angry at him--it's too much.

He wouldn't be crying if he weren't drunk, but the Atlantean swimming through his head forces him to choke back a sob.

Námo spins on his heel, his eyes focusing on Lee.

"Lee?" he asks, any anger he had felt draining away instantly. He creeps back to the booth, kneeling beside the man. "Lee?"

His fingers tremble slightly as he reaches out to his hand to touch Lee's head.

"I should not have behaved such. I know you are hurting and, after all we have spoken about, I should have known..."

He moves aside so that Namo can sit if he wants, nodding, just wanting the fight to be over.

"S'all right...I was being an ass again." He clasps Namo's hand tightly. Please say it's still okay.

Námo moves closer to him, bringing his hand to his lips.

"I am sorry, lover," he says softly, pressing the hand to his chest. "Truly, I was not being understanding." He kisses the hand again. "Are you alone tonight?"

Which meant, have you asked Gorlim to comfort you?

He nods. "Just as well, maybe...my company wouldn't be much fun." He forces a laugh.

He can understand the lack of understanding--would be likely to act the same way if Mercutio were distraught and pushing him away over the loss of another lover of his. And truly, he had been asking for it.

He swallows, glancing away from Lee briefly.

"Would you like me to walk you to your room?"

If Lee wanted him to stay, he would, but he would not force his company upon him.

He looks up. Part of him wants to go further, ask Namo to spend the night with him, but he doesn't--perhaps because doesn't want to inflict his melancholy on anyone else at the moment, or would rather simply lie awake and wallow in self-loathing alone. He knows it's idiotic of him. And he does want Namo to stay. But he won't ask.

"Would you?"

He smiles, brushing his fingers along Lee's cheek and down his neck.

"Of course, melda. Anything you wish of me, if it is in my power to give, it is yours to ask."

Námo scoots out of the booth, standing and looking at Lee expectantly.

It is too bad there is no bond between them as their is between the Vala and Gorlim... perhaps then Námo would know of the silent request.

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not-a-redshirt.livejournal.com - 2005-12-20 06:21 (UTC) - Expand

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namo - 2005-12-20 06:24 (UTC) - Expand