[against all fashions that make August, August, he stumbles into Nick's room at around 3:45AM, a bottle and a half deep and clothes rumpled. he does try to be quiet, which is near impossible because every time he tries to bend over to take off his shoes he trips over himself and almost falls each time. this results in a cycle of one or two stomps and scuffs of shoe against wood. that leaves him with only one option:
crawl on to Nick's bed, above the covers, clothes and shoes on, and collapse where the shape of his body is, regardless if he'd been sleeping or not. curled over top of him, head planting itself right next to Nick's — too close, he'll smell alcohol on his breath, on his clothes — and elbow tucked beneath him, the back of his hand tapping against his chest.]
You awake?
[is a really stupid question, considering that all he's done is disrupt the silence and very unceremoniously climbed into bed.]
[ of course nick is awake, how could he not be? it takes a real marker of restraint to stay in bed when he hears august tumbling into the room honestly, he's too tempted to hop up and help, fuss with his shoes and sweep his hair off his face--but he waits, lying quiet in the bed until august climbs in beside him.
god, he must be really drunk, its all nick can smell, but he still shifts closer into his touch, sliding a hand up to find the one tapping at his chest. he doesn't quite take august's hand yet, but he plays with his fingers idly, like he's thinking about it. ]
[his speech is slurred, each letter rolling into the next, wet in his mouth. his free hand reaches up to touch Nick's face, thumb barely missing his eye. he snickers to himself and drops his hand altogether.]
Did you? I lost my phone.
[two things that he doesn't need to say together that he says together anyway. he wriggles, pressing in closer to him, clearly not satisfied with the results. he tilts his head up to look down at the two of them.]
You're under everything. Why are you under everything? God, that's annoying. Jesus, fuck - [loose lips and and even looser body, he's making sorry (and sloppy) attempts to pull the covers down while he's still on top of them. his head drops back down, exhausted, exasperated - all of the above.] this is difficult.
[ nick snorts a laugh as he moves to help wriggle out of the covers, and the sound is so soft and affectionate that he almost disgusts himself with it. is he ever going to be able to just act normally, now that he knows? probably not, but there are worse crosses to bear.
august is making enough of a mess trying to get the sheets out of the way that he's tangling nick up worse, but he fights to wriggle free all the same, kicking them down and out of the way. it's entirely too indulgent when nick snakes an arm up his shirt to press a palm flat up against his chest, but maybe it's easier to do it without overthinking in the quiet hours of the early morning. or when august is so drunk that he can't possibly read nick like a book. ]
[dead drunk. once the covers are gone, he worms his body around Nick, hooking one leg around his. shoe against skin. his nose crinkles and he huffs, but doesn't have the energy to pull himself away and deal with that. he's half aroused, half slipping away. one of his hands tugs at Nick's shirt, and feeling the fabric between his fingertips he's distinctly -- distantly -- aware that it can't possibly be something Nick owns.
he'd like more skin on skin, smooths his fingers over his waistline. Nick always knows where to touch him, where to hold him still. he smiles with glassy, half-lidded eyes.]
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so i drank isnt
instead*
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i dont need a break
you dont need to get drunk alone
especially if its not happy drunk
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why don't i need to ??
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unless you wanted to drink solo then ig its not actually a problem lol dont mind me
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except you
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tomorrow
yesterday
what kind of question is that
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i could come find you
or you can come back to my room tonight
whatever youd like more
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lost**
youknow. i'll come to you
don't wait for me
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but you can come to me
i can't sleep though so no promises on not waiting up
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why can't you sleep?
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too much to think about not enough to do
you're awake too
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what are you thinking about
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tracking runes
why we're here
you
what are you thinking about?
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not a hot thing to say.]
mostly you
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50/50
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tongue
body.
you.
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i'll wait for you
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crawl on to Nick's bed, above the covers, clothes and shoes on, and collapse where the shape of his body is, regardless if he'd been sleeping or not. curled over top of him, head planting itself right next to Nick's — too close, he'll smell alcohol on his breath, on his clothes — and elbow tucked beneath him, the back of his hand tapping against his chest.]
You awake?
[is a really stupid question, considering that all he's done is disrupt the silence and very unceremoniously climbed into bed.]
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god, he must be really drunk, its all nick can smell, but he still shifts closer into his touch, sliding a hand up to find the one tapping at his chest. he doesn't quite take august's hand yet, but he plays with his fingers idly, like he's thinking about it. ]
I told you I would be, didn't I?
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Did you? I lost my phone.
[two things that he doesn't need to say together that he says together anyway. he wriggles, pressing in closer to him, clearly not satisfied with the results. he tilts his head up to look down at the two of them.]
You're under everything. Why are you under everything? God, that's annoying. Jesus, fuck - [loose lips and and even looser body, he's making sorry (and sloppy) attempts to pull the covers down while he's still on top of them. his head drops back down, exhausted, exasperated - all of the above.] this is difficult.
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[ nick snorts a laugh as he moves to help wriggle out of the covers, and the sound is so soft and affectionate that he almost disgusts himself with it. is he ever going to be able to just act normally, now that he knows? probably not, but there are worse crosses to bear.
august is making enough of a mess trying to get the sheets out of the way that he's tangling nick up worse, but he fights to wriggle free all the same, kicking them down and out of the way. it's entirely too indulgent when nick snakes an arm up his shirt to press a palm flat up against his chest, but maybe it's easier to do it without overthinking in the quiet hours of the early morning. or when august is so drunk that he can't possibly read nick like a book. ]
You're wasted.
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[dead drunk. once the covers are gone, he worms his body around Nick, hooking one leg around his. shoe against skin. his nose crinkles and he huffs, but doesn't have the energy to pull himself away and deal with that. he's half aroused, half slipping away. one of his hands tugs at Nick's shirt, and feeling the fabric between his fingertips he's distinctly -- distantly -- aware that it can't possibly be something Nick owns.
he'd like more skin on skin, smooths his fingers over his waistline. Nick always knows where to touch him, where to hold him still. he smiles with glassy, half-lidded eyes.]
Main - [clearing his throat,] You knew that.
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🎀