With sexyinscrubs | It's a twin thing
It had been awhile since Cameron had taken it upon himself to get pissed. With the painkillers he was taking, it was advised he shouldn't, so he hadn't. Not even when all the shit with Isabel went down, and that was probably part of the reason he had struggled with it; he had no outlet to purge the stress from his system. It was only when Lachlan was around with the wee one earlier trying to nudge Cameron out of his funk that the straight-to-the-point Scot just suggested Cameron get sloshed. Granted, it was while the frazzled Yodalan was trying to coax his baby son back out from under the sofa where he had rolled during the course of the conversation. The little boy, however, continued to lie under there on his belly just out of reach of his Dadddy's fingers, giggling himself into a drooling mess and hiccup fit. Then somehow found a dried up old potato chip under there, which immediately got snapped up and shoved into said drooly mouth. Cameron couldn't help but be amused at how quick Lachlan dived under the sofa, breaching that gap and sliding a finger into the wet cavern to fish the chip back out again. It was funny for Cameron to watch Lachlan in father mode. They had grown up together and Lachlan had always been the devious yet kind-hearted sex pot rock star with a string of girls ready to find out what he was sporting under his kilt. Now he just had the dad and husband thing down, and it even suited him better than the rock star thing.
But baby RJ wasn't having a bar of being robbed of the chip and started bawling, which piqued Cameron's anxiety levels. He seemed to have a tough time dealing with kids crying. It just distressed him for some reason. Once Lachlan's upper half reappeared with his crying son in his arms, it was clearly evident it was time to head home to Mummy, and RJ was bundled back up into the buggy sans soggy chip and Cameron was once again left alone in Pat and Aiden's large, ultra-trendy modern living room.
Drunk was inevitable.
He was now sprawled on the sofa with some old tapes of his games playing on the large wall-mounted plasma TV, Liverpool jersey proudly in place, fifth beer of a six-pack in his hand as he loudly (and drunkenly) sung You'll Never Walk Alone, his team song, slurring just about every word and still managing to take mouthfuls from the beer bottle when he wasn't waving it in the air to the song playing on the stereo over the top of the game. Yodaland really did have sound advice.
But baby RJ wasn't having a bar of being robbed of the chip and started bawling, which piqued Cameron's anxiety levels. He seemed to have a tough time dealing with kids crying. It just distressed him for some reason. Once Lachlan's upper half reappeared with his crying son in his arms, it was clearly evident it was time to head home to Mummy, and RJ was bundled back up into the buggy sans soggy chip and Cameron was once again left alone in Pat and Aiden's large, ultra-trendy modern living room.
Drunk was inevitable.
He was now sprawled on the sofa with some old tapes of his games playing on the large wall-mounted plasma TV, Liverpool jersey proudly in place, fifth beer of a six-pack in his hand as he loudly (and drunkenly) sung You'll Never Walk Alone, his team song, slurring just about every word and still managing to take mouthfuls from the beer bottle when he wasn't waving it in the air to the song playing on the stereo over the top of the game. Yodaland really did have sound advice.