Prompt Post Round 2
Rules~ Prompt Post Round 1~ Fills Round 1~ Discussion
This post is now closed to new prompts, but open to fills and comments. Post new prompts on round 3!A note: anons, your comments may not show up right away. This is an LJ server problem I can't do anything about. Rest assured that your comments haven't been deleted, they're just lost in the ( Read more... )
This post is now closed to new prompts, but open to fills and comments. Post new prompts on round 3!A note: anons, your comments may not show up right away. This is an LJ server problem I can't do anything about. Rest assured that your comments haven't been deleted, they're just lost in the ( Read more... )
He almost does, actually.
“Holy shit - Rick!” He remembers he isn’t physically able of melting and realizes he just nearly sank to his knees, only held up by Craig catching him under his arms. “What the hell?”
Rick only returns with a drunk and bubbling laugh, and Craig huffs at him before pulling him upright again and telling him to get his ass into the car before a taxi crawls up onto the sidewalk and runs them both over.
The drive to Rick’s house is mostly uneventful, if a bit stressful for Craig - trying to get directions out of a drunk man as obnoxious as Rick is no easy feat - and finally they make it to Rick’s apartment building. Out of some sort of misplaced agreeability, he consents to letting Craig make sure he gets into his apartment okay and they ride the elevator to his floor together.
“What happened that I ended up under the table?” Rick asks as they exit the elevator, searching for the door to Rick’s condo.
“Fact: Wheatley - from Maintenance - challenged you to a drinking contest, so of course you had to accept. You beat him by eight beers. Fact: Wheatley has the lowest alcohol tolerance of any human being on the planet Earth.” Craig’s face is still flushed from the cold winter air.
“Damn straight,” Rick agrees with a grin, his memory returning to him the hilarious sight of Wheatley falling backwards off his stool after just two drinks. They reach his door; he fishes his keys out of his pocket, regards them for a moment, and then hands them to Craig. “Ehh… you do it.”
Click-clack-click. The door opens inward, showing a sliver of the surprisingly posh apartment within. Rick smiles - home sweet home.
“Thanksh a lot, Craig,” he slurs again, stepping forward and reaching out a hand to take his keys back. His hand lands on top of Craig’s, which suddenly tenses around the key in its grip for some reason; a little confused, Rick brings his other hand up to help pry it off of the key, at which point Craig pulls it away abruptly.
Happy with this reaction, Rick takes the key out of the lock and steps through the door, turning to face Craig with a smile. “Thish was fun. Thanks again.”
“You thought it was fun?” Craig repeats, as if trying to verify the fact in his brain. Rick responds with a nod.
“I’ll see you at work tomorrow, yeah?” Rick asks, leaning on the door frame.
“…Fact: Tomorrow is Saturday. We don’t have work,” Craig replies. “But… to keep the sentiment, sure.” Then Rick sees something akin to a unicorn - the corners of Craig’s mouth pull up in a modest, barely-there smile that Rick can only think to describe as ‘sweet.’
Reply
“…You’re smiling,” Rick says dumbly, his giddy grin still on his face. He leans down a little bit to look closer.
“Am I?” The smile almost disappears for a moment, replaced with slack-jawed surprise, but it soon comes back at double the force.
“Yeeeeep. And it’s adorable,” Rick says jokingly, though in his head it’s not a joke at all. It really is adorable.
Craig’s cheeks go a little redder and the smile widens even more, teeth visible and framed by crooked lips that seem unaccustomed to smiling. Then a few things happen in very quick succession; Rick feels thin hands on the sides of his head, he’s pulled down a few more inches, and there’s something warm and tender that tastes faintly like alcohol pressing against his lips, into his mouth. Obviously, the only thing to do in this situation is kiss right back.
They only break away when the burn in their lungs starts to get truthfully unbearable, and by that time Craig has migrated from standing in the hall to standing in the apartment, pressed firmly against Rick’s front and encircled by the other man’s arms. When they break off, they’re both thoughtless for a moment, just contented brains and half-lidded eyes, completely blank. Only for a moment though - suddenly, reality crashes back onto them in a wave.
Craig’s eyes are suddenly wide and they match the pink tinge on his face as he gasps and squirms out of Rick’s grip, the abrupt movement making Rick stumble a bit. Rick, too, is having a bit of a revelation, his alcohol-dimmed brain distantly realizing that that the person he just kissed was: A) a man, B) his coworker, and C) a man. His own eyes widen a little as it dawns on him.
He looks up - but Craig is at the door, straightening his coat and looking at everything but Rick. “S-so. Yes. See you at work on Monday. Goodnight,” Craig says tersely, stepping back into the hall and turning to regard him quickly, clinically. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself tonight.”
“Uh… I’m… glad you invited me?” Rick replies uncertainly, but almost before he finishes Craig gives a sharp nod and clears his throat.
“Yes, well. Any time. Goodnight. Don’t lock the bathroom door if you go in there - you could fall, hit your head on the sink, get a concussion, and not have anyone to help you. Goodnight,” he says, each sentence coming in fast succession like machine gun fire, probably hoping that the preciseness of his words will hide the blush on his face and the deer-in-headlights look in his eyes. Rick doesn’t have time to register either of these traits as Craig grabs the door and closes - almost slams - it shut.
Rick stands in the front hall for a moment before turning and moving mechanically through his nightly routine - bathroom, brush teeth, bedroom, strip to his boxers, crawl in bed, watch some TV to fall asleep. He skips the TV tonight, though - he’s tired enough that he doesn’t need it.
Instead, he falls asleep to the memory of a fond look from pink eyes and teeth framed by crooked, soft lips.
(Have a good night, OP - I hope you liked this. :D)
Reply
Reply
I imagine it would be a little lopsided, since I don't think he uses it much. (Rick would fix that right quick, though...)
Reply
Reply
Reply
rereading forever now~
Reply
(also, I THINK YOU ARE MIA/OMEGA. do I win a prize)
Reply
AND I BELIEVE A PRIZE IS IN ORDER.
Reply
Reply
Like, the type to be hanging around Chell and Wheatley's shoulders slurring, "I just love testing with you guys so much"
Reply
So I've settled on these instead.
Wheatley would either be a crying drunk or one of those really huggy drunks. Maybe a combination of both. He'd just get really weepy and clingy, probably to Chell, and wouldn't even know why. Then he'd pass out because he has zero alcohol tolerance.
GLaDOS would be the kind of angry drunk that starts off in a pissy mood and gets worse as the night goes on, and the next thing you know she's throwing bottles across the room and snarling at everyone.
Chell's a stoic, so she can handle her alcohol. She could probably drink the rest of them under the table without saying a word.
Reply
Space - Sleepy drunk [will inevitably fall asleep]
Wheatley - Clingy, bipolar weepy-party drunk
Rick - Responsibly-drinking but bad-judgement drunk
Craig - Responsible, quiet/drowsy drunk
Glados - Angry/weepy drunk
Chell - Sober drunk (you can't even tell when she's drunk)
Cave - Angry drunk (THEY LAUGHED AT ME AT THE ACADEMY... WELL, THEY'LL SEE!)
Reply
Reply
Reply
There are already hands with fingers made bold by alcohol tugging at his zipper, his belt is dangling open and only held by three of the six loops on his pants. His shirt is down around his elbows, and several of the buttons are gone from where Craig bit them off a few minutes ago. One of the man's slender legs is suddenly thrown over Rick's lap, and there the completely wasted blonde is, tongue peeking out between his lips which are fuller than usual from the way they were kissing after the fifth beer. Utterly focused on making sure that Rick is going to end up naked in a dingy little bar two towns away from anywhere they know.
Again.
“Pinky, I think you've had enough-”
“Rick,” The pants are ripped open finally, and Craig's hands invite themselves into his boxers. “We are going to have sex on this counter.”
“What?”
“Sex.” Craig hisses, and the way his fingers wrap just a little too tightly and pump him without mercy make Rick arch on his stool. The legs of the seat lift away from the floor for half a second, and Rick pitches forward into Craig's grip with a groan. “On this counter.”
“Are you fucking serious?!”
A deliberate squeeze. “Now.”
They are probably going to be thrown out of another bar for public indecency, and Rick has always liked to boast that while he is a black belt in the bedroom, he is very difficult to seduce...but the way Craig sounds when he is bent nearly backwards over a solid surface, and how damn loud the little brainbox is when drunk?
Completely worth it.
Reply
Leave a comment