Ficlet: Drinking Like Luvander
Title: Drinking Like Luvander
Author: persepolis130
Fandom: Havemercy
Pairing: Ghislain/Luvander
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~600
Beta: younglizbeth
Summary: Post-Havemercy ficlet, the title pretty much says it all.
Author's Notes: Can I call it "Ghisander?" Does that work? *scratches head*
I hadn't met many men who could drink like Luvander. He'd put soldiers twice his size under the table and walked out of the bar on his own two legs afterward. I'd won my share of bets off it.
Right now he was puking all over his rug.
At least he'd made it this far. Nowadays he sometimes didn't. He had too much to think about and too much time to think about it in with the Dragon Corps disbanded and Yesfir in pieces. I didn't blame him. In fact, I picked him up and carried him to bed.
Compassus closed her eyes for the last time on Tuesday.
Luvander laughed when I pulled his shirt over his head, like he couldn't taste the bile in his mouth. Maybe he couldn't. He looked too skinny half-naked, the moonlight casting a glow across the pale skin of his chest, but then he'd always looked too skinny to me. Pretty much everyone did.
"Gh'slain," he slurred, and took hold of my arm. His face was so close I could see the curve of his mouth and the soft way his lashes fluttered as he closed his eyes. Or maybe it was just that I'd seen it so many time before, I thought I could. It was pretty dark out.
His breath was warm against my cheek. "Don' go," he said.
I pulled my arm from his grasp and clapped him on the shoulder like it was old times again. Magoughin was about to break in with the one about the milkmaid we'd all heard ten times already, and Compagnon was going to start tittering like a girl about it anyway. Then Raphael would mention something he'd read in one of his romans, Rook would call him a Cindy, Ace would throw a dart at Merritt, and Adamo would yell at the lot of us to Shut the fuck up!
Back then, Luvander wouldn't have said things like that, and even if he had, I wouldn't have known what he meant.
"Go to sleep," I told him.
It wasn't that hard to say. Not this time, at least. Not tonight.
Even so, I hated leaving. As soon as I stepped outside, the night air whipped against my neck like icy fingers, sending a chill down my spine. I flipped my collar up against it and dug my hands into my pockets, but it didn't help.
His bed would've been so warm.
His lips would've been warmer.
It wouldn't be right, though. Neither of us had our heads screwed on straight right now, and we'd have done it for the wrong reasons. We were friends, and he'd always trusted me to get him out of any mess he'd gotten himself into. Whether it was a whore with a chip on her shoulder and a really solid backhand or the rubble-strewn streets of Lapis, my job was to pull him out, not drag him down.
Also, he'd have tasted like vomit.
So that was that.
Didn't keep me from thinking about it, though. All I'd have to do was have one drink too many and let my control slip for an instant, and our nightly trips to the Amazement would take on a whole different meaning. But I wouldn't let that happen to us. I wasn't that sort of man.
Even if I downed all the liquor in the whole of Thremedon, I could never drink like Luvander.
But was it so bad to wish I could?
Author: persepolis130
Fandom: Havemercy
Pairing: Ghislain/Luvander
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~600
Beta: younglizbeth
Summary: Post-Havemercy ficlet, the title pretty much says it all.
Author's Notes: Can I call it "Ghisander?" Does that work? *scratches head*
I hadn't met many men who could drink like Luvander. He'd put soldiers twice his size under the table and walked out of the bar on his own two legs afterward. I'd won my share of bets off it.
Right now he was puking all over his rug.
At least he'd made it this far. Nowadays he sometimes didn't. He had too much to think about and too much time to think about it in with the Dragon Corps disbanded and Yesfir in pieces. I didn't blame him. In fact, I picked him up and carried him to bed.
Compassus closed her eyes for the last time on Tuesday.
Luvander laughed when I pulled his shirt over his head, like he couldn't taste the bile in his mouth. Maybe he couldn't. He looked too skinny half-naked, the moonlight casting a glow across the pale skin of his chest, but then he'd always looked too skinny to me. Pretty much everyone did.
"Gh'slain," he slurred, and took hold of my arm. His face was so close I could see the curve of his mouth and the soft way his lashes fluttered as he closed his eyes. Or maybe it was just that I'd seen it so many time before, I thought I could. It was pretty dark out.
His breath was warm against my cheek. "Don' go," he said.
I pulled my arm from his grasp and clapped him on the shoulder like it was old times again. Magoughin was about to break in with the one about the milkmaid we'd all heard ten times already, and Compagnon was going to start tittering like a girl about it anyway. Then Raphael would mention something he'd read in one of his romans, Rook would call him a Cindy, Ace would throw a dart at Merritt, and Adamo would yell at the lot of us to Shut the fuck up!
Back then, Luvander wouldn't have said things like that, and even if he had, I wouldn't have known what he meant.
"Go to sleep," I told him.
It wasn't that hard to say. Not this time, at least. Not tonight.
Even so, I hated leaving. As soon as I stepped outside, the night air whipped against my neck like icy fingers, sending a chill down my spine. I flipped my collar up against it and dug my hands into my pockets, but it didn't help.
His bed would've been so warm.
His lips would've been warmer.
It wouldn't be right, though. Neither of us had our heads screwed on straight right now, and we'd have done it for the wrong reasons. We were friends, and he'd always trusted me to get him out of any mess he'd gotten himself into. Whether it was a whore with a chip on her shoulder and a really solid backhand or the rubble-strewn streets of Lapis, my job was to pull him out, not drag him down.
Also, he'd have tasted like vomit.
So that was that.
Didn't keep me from thinking about it, though. All I'd have to do was have one drink too many and let my control slip for an instant, and our nightly trips to the Amazement would take on a whole different meaning. But I wouldn't let that happen to us. I wasn't that sort of man.
Even if I downed all the liquor in the whole of Thremedon, I could never drink like Luvander.
But was it so bad to wish I could?