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CLOSING AT 3,000 COMMENTS
RULES POST
(PLEASE READ BEFORE COMMENTING)
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Two weeks ago
What, thinks James, are the point of birthdays if you aren't going to go out and get hammered beyond belief until you are no longer identifiable as a human being? He's not quite ready to relinquish his hold on his youth yet, so he and Michael head out for drinks with some friends, and make a deal that Michael is only allowed to get a little drunk, but James is allowed to come home looking like a tramp, whimpering like a baby whilst simultaneously convinced he's acting like Sean Connery. It is his birthday, after all.
Things, however, don't go exactly to plan. Michael's first mistake is for the first (and, it turns out, only) bar they go be one with chairs was swivel around. James can't help having a good spin, and quite spectacularly manages to fall off his, cutting his head hard on the corner of a wooden step that leads up to a higher level. Michael frogmarches him to the mens' toilets, mumbling about "mental age of a five year old" and "should've learned from the golf cart, can't take you anywhere". As he's hauled off, James calls out quickly the rest of the party,
"Watch our drinks!"
Michael can't stay even slightly agitated for long. Once dabbing James' cut with some scrunched, dampened tissue-paper, he finds himself quite enamored with James' lips, and James' hands, and they don't emerge for quite sometime. When they do return, to shouts and cheers for the birthday boy from his friends, James throws himself back into his seat ("Jesus christ, James McAvoy, what is wrong with you, we just came back from the infirmary, do you mind not getting anymore wounds tonight?") and takes a gulp of his drink.
He's fine for a few minutes, it seems, until Michael realises that James is gazing at him blearily, squinting as though Michael is shining too brightly to be beheld. James reaches out a hand and strokes Michael's cheek. Michael grabs hold of his fingers.
"You're not pissed already are you, James? You've had two drinks."
"Not pissed," James mumbles, "Just... feel strange."
"Gonna puke kind of strange?" Michael says warily, "You're so classy. C'mon, toilets."
James gets shakily to his feet. He suddenly grabs at Michael urgently, and Michael thinks that James is being unnecessarily dramatic and deliberately making himself harder to support: until he realises the colour of James' face, and suddenly James' eyes have rolled back into his head, his knees have buckled beneath him, and the last thing he hears is Michael yelling his name.
*
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(off to read the rest of your fic now, like a creeper)
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