(no subject)
Title: Someday
Fandom: Four Brothers
Rating: PG-13
Charater(s)/Pairing: Bobby Mercer/Jack Mercer
Summary: Alcohol isn't ever the answer, but it's great to get people to open up.
Warnings: Two bottles of Vodka and unrequited love. Oh, and un-beta'd - don't shoot me!
Word Count: 930
It is common knowledge that alcohol isn’t the answer to anything, and most certainly does not solve any problems. The alluring thing about alcohol, however, is that for a short amount of time, one can forget his problems and pretend everything’s alright even while really everything is in pieces.
While actually not everything was in pieces, Jack Mercer still felt shattered enough to resort to two bottles of Vodka that evening, one of which lay unopened next to the couch on which the blond boy had slumped down, the other one held tightly in his unsteady hands. The alcohol hadn’t failed the effect he had aimed for, and he’d forgotten what exactly he had been so worked-up and confused about.
“Jack, what the hell have you been doing?”
Well, at least until the source of his problems in all its glory entered the living room, quirking an eyebrow and making its way over to the sofa, where it nudged against Jack’s feet. Taking the hint, the youngest Mercer bent his knees and made room for his problem, which quickly sank down into the corner of the couch.
Jack put on a weary smile. “H-hey Bobby, whazzup?” Jack slurred to greet his brother, raising his bottle to cheer at him, but instead ending up spilling the liquid over his shirt. Still, he didn’t seem to notice, as he kept intently staring at Bobby, who shook his head and grabbed the Vodka bottle from the floor to skim the label. Not the cheapest Vodka, he realised, but still far from being tasty - especially pure. He sighed.
“Wait a sec, Jackieboy,” he then advised his little brother and got up, before reaching for the bottle Jack still held in his hands. At that, the younger boy frowned, but within a couple of seconds Bobby had wrung the bottle from him and left for the kitchen, leaving the pouting blond behind to return only moments later with a couple cans of Coke.
Sitting down on the couch again, Bobby tossed one of them over to Jack. “Drink that.” He commanded, but retrieved the can soon after, seeing how his younger brother only fidgeted with it, failing to open it. Sighing once more, he then returned the open can to him and leaned back on the couch.
“So, what’s wrong?” Bobby asked, twirling his own can of Coke between his hands. The answer came surprisingly quick considering Jack’s drunk state - to say he’d been three sheets against the wind would have been an incredulous understatement - and too quick to be true: “Nothin’.”
Bobby chuckled. “Yeah, right. Come on, you can tell me.” He assured him, earning only a weary sigh from his brother.
“Nothing.” The younger one repeated, raising the cold beverage to his lips, barely managing to drink some without spilling it over his already stained t-shirt.
Shaking his head, Bobby smirked. “Lemme guess - some guy dumped you?” This earned him a fierce glare, and a “Fuck you, Bobby.” at an instant.
“If you don’t want me to keep guessing, you got to tell me.” The former Hockey-player retorted aptly, guessing again already: “Lost at poker? Got beat up by some highschoolers? Lovesick?”
At the last one, Jack’s cheek flushed and he rolled over on the couch, facing it’s backrest. That way, he couldn’t see the broad smirk on Bobby’s face. “Great. Well then, what is it exactly? Got dumped? Someone cheated on you? Got left out of a threesome?” The latter treated Bobby to another “Fuck you” by his brother, before he muttered something inaudible.
“I can’t understand what you’re telling the backrest, you know.” At that, Jack turned around again, now facing his brother. “Iz just… that… oh Bobby.” He glanced away again, though the sad look on his face was still clearly visible to Bobby. Surprised by his own empathy, the oldest Mercer brother pulled Jack into an embrace; after struggling a little, Jack let out a shaky breath and leaned against the offered warm shoulder.
“It’s just not fair!” He slurred, obviously not only completely plastered but also far from coherent thinking. Bobby tightened the embrace, and Jack ranted on about how love is not ever fair in general and especially not to him, that life completely sucks, sobbing every now and then, and while many would have shrugged it off as the usual depression alcohol tends to cause at some point, Bobby just sat there, nodded and agreed where necessary, caringly running a hand over Jack’s back until the younger one turned silent.
“He’ll never love me.” Jack finally whispered after some moments of silence, one hand still clutching Bobby’s shirt, his head still buried in Bobby’s shoulder. “Anybody would be an idiot to deny you,” Bobby replied softly. “They have no clue what they’re missing out on, Jack.” For a faint second he wondered once more when he’d turned this empathetic, but forgot it immediately when Jack graced him with a grateful smile. “Thanks, Bobby.”
Returning the smile, Bobby slowly pushed the younger one off him. “Now, let me get you to bed, you’re in for one hell of a morning.” He said, helping Jack up, who thankfully rested his head against his older brother’s shoulder and wrapped one arm around him to steady himself.
Yes, alcohol really wasn’t the answer to any problem, the blond thought on the way upstairs, but it did bring more relief than he had anticipated. And maybe, someday, with the help of another bottle of Vodka, he’d work up the courage to tell Bobby that it’s him he’s in love with.
Fandom: Four Brothers
Rating: PG-13
Charater(s)/Pairing: Bobby Mercer/Jack Mercer
Summary: Alcohol isn't ever the answer, but it's great to get people to open up.
Warnings: Two bottles of Vodka and unrequited love. Oh, and un-beta'd - don't shoot me!
Word Count: 930
It is common knowledge that alcohol isn’t the answer to anything, and most certainly does not solve any problems. The alluring thing about alcohol, however, is that for a short amount of time, one can forget his problems and pretend everything’s alright even while really everything is in pieces.
While actually not everything was in pieces, Jack Mercer still felt shattered enough to resort to two bottles of Vodka that evening, one of which lay unopened next to the couch on which the blond boy had slumped down, the other one held tightly in his unsteady hands. The alcohol hadn’t failed the effect he had aimed for, and he’d forgotten what exactly he had been so worked-up and confused about.
“Jack, what the hell have you been doing?”
Well, at least until the source of his problems in all its glory entered the living room, quirking an eyebrow and making its way over to the sofa, where it nudged against Jack’s feet. Taking the hint, the youngest Mercer bent his knees and made room for his problem, which quickly sank down into the corner of the couch.
Jack put on a weary smile. “H-hey Bobby, whazzup?” Jack slurred to greet his brother, raising his bottle to cheer at him, but instead ending up spilling the liquid over his shirt. Still, he didn’t seem to notice, as he kept intently staring at Bobby, who shook his head and grabbed the Vodka bottle from the floor to skim the label. Not the cheapest Vodka, he realised, but still far from being tasty - especially pure. He sighed.
“Wait a sec, Jackieboy,” he then advised his little brother and got up, before reaching for the bottle Jack still held in his hands. At that, the younger boy frowned, but within a couple of seconds Bobby had wrung the bottle from him and left for the kitchen, leaving the pouting blond behind to return only moments later with a couple cans of Coke.
Sitting down on the couch again, Bobby tossed one of them over to Jack. “Drink that.” He commanded, but retrieved the can soon after, seeing how his younger brother only fidgeted with it, failing to open it. Sighing once more, he then returned the open can to him and leaned back on the couch.
“So, what’s wrong?” Bobby asked, twirling his own can of Coke between his hands. The answer came surprisingly quick considering Jack’s drunk state - to say he’d been three sheets against the wind would have been an incredulous understatement - and too quick to be true: “Nothin’.”
Bobby chuckled. “Yeah, right. Come on, you can tell me.” He assured him, earning only a weary sigh from his brother.
“Nothing.” The younger one repeated, raising the cold beverage to his lips, barely managing to drink some without spilling it over his already stained t-shirt.
Shaking his head, Bobby smirked. “Lemme guess - some guy dumped you?” This earned him a fierce glare, and a “Fuck you, Bobby.” at an instant.
“If you don’t want me to keep guessing, you got to tell me.” The former Hockey-player retorted aptly, guessing again already: “Lost at poker? Got beat up by some highschoolers? Lovesick?”
At the last one, Jack’s cheek flushed and he rolled over on the couch, facing it’s backrest. That way, he couldn’t see the broad smirk on Bobby’s face. “Great. Well then, what is it exactly? Got dumped? Someone cheated on you? Got left out of a threesome?” The latter treated Bobby to another “Fuck you” by his brother, before he muttered something inaudible.
“I can’t understand what you’re telling the backrest, you know.” At that, Jack turned around again, now facing his brother. “Iz just… that… oh Bobby.” He glanced away again, though the sad look on his face was still clearly visible to Bobby. Surprised by his own empathy, the oldest Mercer brother pulled Jack into an embrace; after struggling a little, Jack let out a shaky breath and leaned against the offered warm shoulder.
“It’s just not fair!” He slurred, obviously not only completely plastered but also far from coherent thinking. Bobby tightened the embrace, and Jack ranted on about how love is not ever fair in general and especially not to him, that life completely sucks, sobbing every now and then, and while many would have shrugged it off as the usual depression alcohol tends to cause at some point, Bobby just sat there, nodded and agreed where necessary, caringly running a hand over Jack’s back until the younger one turned silent.
“He’ll never love me.” Jack finally whispered after some moments of silence, one hand still clutching Bobby’s shirt, his head still buried in Bobby’s shoulder. “Anybody would be an idiot to deny you,” Bobby replied softly. “They have no clue what they’re missing out on, Jack.” For a faint second he wondered once more when he’d turned this empathetic, but forgot it immediately when Jack graced him with a grateful smile. “Thanks, Bobby.”
Returning the smile, Bobby slowly pushed the younger one off him. “Now, let me get you to bed, you’re in for one hell of a morning.” He said, helping Jack up, who thankfully rested his head against his older brother’s shoulder and wrapped one arm around him to steady himself.
Yes, alcohol really wasn’t the answer to any problem, the blond thought on the way upstairs, but it did bring more relief than he had anticipated. And maybe, someday, with the help of another bottle of Vodka, he’d work up the courage to tell Bobby that it’s him he’s in love with.