Drowning Sorrows (And Other Things) Chapter 1
Title: Drowning Sorrows (And Other Things) chp. 1
Author: verdrehtgeist
Rating: M
Pairing: Nathan/Duke
Notes: When Nathan found Duke drowning his sorrows in a bottle of scotch, he had no idea it would end like it did. Now, with things between them worse than ever, what's it going to take for Nathan to figure out how he feels?
Warnings: angst, Duke!whumpage (and resulting Nuke!fluff)
It had been a long and painfully boring day. No calls came in, not one, and in the absence of something better to do, Nathan had spent the better part of the day wading through stack after stack of paperwork. The stuff had a tendency to back up, especially since all the cases with Troubled people ended up being an exercise in creative writing. To be honest, he wasn’t much of a writer himself, but he had to admit, he was getting pretty good at it.
The thought really should’ve bothered him more than it did.
In fact, by the end of the night, he was actually kind of grateful for it. He’d decided just to stay late and knock the whole thing out. It would be kind of nice, he thought, to be all caught up on his paperwork. At least until the next Troubled person came around and turned the town on its head again.
So…probably a day, maybe two.
Regardless, there was an overwhelming surge of relief when he crossed his last T and dotted his last I. It was nearly ten o’clock, mind, but he’d definitely done worse. He was actually looking forward to a good night’s sleep.
Coat on, car keys in hand, Nathan started out of the office. Things were looking good. He made it out of the building without being stopped. He got to his car, and nothing happened. As he climbed into the driver’s seat, he wondered if today might actually be the day when nothing went to hell in a hand basket.
And then the radio flared to life.
“Nathan, hun, you there?”
He didn’t think he’d ever been so shattered to hear LaVerne’s voice over the radio. And for that matter, when did that woman ever stop working? He really should’ve known, being the chief and all, but he’d never really thought about it before now. He made a mental note to look into it later.
“Nathan?”
Oh well, he might as well bite the bullet. “Yeah, Laverne, I’m here. What’ve you got?” Because why else would she be getting him on the radio at eleven at night?
“We got a call in a few minutes ago, said there was some sort of disturbance and that it sounded like someone was ransacking the place.”
“Where?”
“That Crocker’s place, the Grey-”
“I know the place.” And he knew that, if his night hadn’t been ruined already, it sure as hell was now. Leave it to Duke to get in trouble on quite possibly the only day in Haven history where nothing else when wrong. He cursed the man under his breath.
And yet, even as he cursed him, he was peeling out of the parking lot of the station as fast as his truck could take him.
Gravel crunched beneath the tires of the Bronco as Nathan pulled into the Grey Gull. He barely even bothered stopping before he was jumping out, his gun at the ready. Without so much as slowing down, he booked it to the front door. Only then did he slow, and it was only to listen.
Not a sound.
The lights were on, though, he noticed. Duke’s car was in the lot. No, Duke was definitely here. But…it didn’t look like anyone else was.
Frowning, Nathan straightened a bit. He chanced a glance inside through the window, and-
“Son of a bitch.”
Nathan pulled the door open and strode inside, torn between being confused, irritated, and yeah, a little bit worried.
There, sitting at the bar, was none other than Duke Crocker. He had his back to Nathan, but from the bottle Nathan could see sitting on the bar next to him and the way his head tipped back occasionally, it seemed safe to say he was drinking.
The bar was in ruins around him.
Well, maybe ‘ruins’ was a strong word. It wasn’t too bad, but neither was it in its usual form. Most of the destruction seemed to be centered around the bar: shards of glass from broken bottles littered the floor, and every stool but the one Duke was occupying had been turned over. All the salt shakers and napkin holders that generally lined the bar had been overturned or fallen off altogether, as if swept away.
And there Duke sat amongst all of it, like he didn’t even notice it was there.
The same, however, couldn’t be said for Nathan. As he took the first couple of steps in, he felt and heard the crunch of glass beneath his boot.
Duke’s reaction wasn’t immediate. He didn’t snap around or gasp or anything, but Nathan could still tell. He could read it in the way his shoulders stiffened, pulling tighter against the fabric of his blue button-up. He could read it in the way his head seemed to tip forward, as if concealing one of those trademark Duke expressions of incredulity.
But more than that, it was just this…sense. He knew Duke knew he was there, just like he knew that something was definitely very wrong about this picture. And he had the sneaking suspicion that something was Duke himself.
“Sign said closed,” said the smuggler without so much as glancing back. The words were casual enough, but there was something in his tone…something reedy and strained, and Nathan saw a hand reach out to grip the bottle by the neck. There was a splash of liquid, then the bottle returned to its place, and once again, Duke’s head tipped back.
Something about the sight brought a lump to his throat. He wondered how many times Duke had done this, how many times he’d sat at his own bar, alone, drowning his sorrows in the bottom of a bottle. All the time he’d been avoiding him - because that was what he’d been doing. Avoiding him. He’d like to say it was because of Duke’s Trouble, that he didn’t trust him, but that wasn’t it. Not all of it, at least.
It was because he could still feel it. Still feel him. His hand still tingled from that brush on the boat after they’d beat the ever-loving shit out of each other; his skin still burned with every touch since, accidental and not-so-accidental. It was why he stayed away - because every time he was around, he couldn’t help wanting to get close to him, just to feel again. Just to test it, to make sure it was real. He just-he couldn’t stop. He didn’t even know that he wanted to.
And that was what scared him.
He swallowed, tearing his eyes away from Duke’s back to survey the place. “What happened here?”
Duke’s shoulders bobbed a little in the barest hints of a chuckle. “Pardon our mess while we redecorate.”
“Don’t be a smartass,” Nathan shot back. He made his way over to the bar, just a bit behind Duke, and folded his arms across his chest. “Someone called the station about some sort of disturbance. Said it sounded like someone was ransacking the place. Don’t suppose you’d know anything about that, would you?”
Another sip of what looked a lot like whiskey, and then, “Can’t say I would.” He sounded so blasé, so nonchalant, but even though he couldn’t see Duke’s face, Nathan knew that something was wrong. His voice just sounded…raw, and Nathan could practically taste the distress rolling off him in waves. For a guy that was usually so good at concealing his emotions, Duke was broadcasting awfully loud tonight.
And the fact that he was being such a dick about it frankly ticked Nathan off. “Damn it, Duke, I got called out here for a reason, and I don’t have time to-”
“Then go.” The two words cut through Nathan’s own like a knife, sharp and stinging. “You’ve done your civic duty and all that, so get going.” The whole time, Duke didn’t so much as look at him, and even as he polished off another glass, his face stayed obscured. “I don’t mean to bean ungracious host or anything, but I’m sure you and your mad cop skills can find your own way out.”
Part of Nathan wanted to do just that, on principle. If Duke wanted to be an ass, then so be it; he could take care of his own mess. Besides, Nathan was starting to wonder if there had ever been an intruder at all. The cuts on Duke’s hands didn’t look like defensive wounds, but rather like nicks from glass. If he’d made the mess, then why shouldn’t Nathan leave him to clean it up by his own damn self?
But then…something stopped him. He didn’t know what, and he didn’t know why, but instead of heading for the door like he knew he should’ve, like he would’ve had every right to, he stopped. Carefully, he picked up one of the stools from where it had fallen amongst the broken glass surrounding the bar, and he righted it next to Duke’s.
He should leave him, he thought, and yet even as he thought about it, he sat down next to him. Hell, maybe it was Audrey talking, but Duke had done a lot for them lately. Done a lot, he would admit, for him.
The man beside him had helped him find Audrey when she’d been taken. He’d chased him through a damn corn field when, at the time, he had no idea what would be waiting for him. And though Nathan gave him grief for it - he realized a little guiltily that he didn’t remember a time when he’d let the opportunity slip by to remind the guy of it - he’d saved dozens, maybe hundreds of lives killing that Nix guy. He’d risked his life trying to save a woman that had, less than an hour before, nearly drowned him, and all while Nathan had been pointing a gun at him. And when he’d died…Audrey had filled him in, and she hadn’t skimped on any of the details, of just how hard Duke had worked to help her get him back. How he’d been the first of them to run over to him. He still remembered the smile, the odd look on his face when he’d come back. Was it relief?
And now that he thought about it, he’d never really thanked him. Not just for that last one, but for any of it. Worse, he’d antagonized him for it, never failing to doubt him at every turn, never hiding his suspicions.
Thinking about it, he didn’t even know why he said half those things. He didn’t…he didn’t mean them. At least, he didn’t think he did. It was just, when Duke was around, stuff slipped. It was like a knee-jerk reaction. A reflex. The way Duke made him feel whenever he was around….
“Don’t suppose you’ve got another glass lying around here in one piece.”
Duke’s head dropped, and a huff that might’ve been a chuckle sounded from beneath the curtain of dark hair. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Rather than dignifying that with a response, though, Nathan reached around Duke and grabbed what looked to be the sole surviving piece of glassware in sight. It was a mug, but damned if Nathan cared.
“What are you doing?” Duke muttered as Nathan picked up the bottle - he’d been right: whiskey - and poured himself a glass.
“What does it look like?”
“It looks like I should start remembering to lock my door.” And if Nathan detected a hint of a sulk in the words or the way Duke snatched the bottle back, he wisely chose not to mention it. “Listen, if you’re here to-”
“Did you do this?” He tried to sound casual, keeping his eyes trained forward a taking a swig of bourbon. Of course it was the good stuff, he thought.
There was silence for a moment, and Nathan wondered if Duke was just going to ignore him. But then, “Not all of it.”
Nathan’s eyebrow ticked. “You had help?”
Duke’s shoulders bobbed in a chuckle. “Help,” he said. “Right.”
“So, what happened?” Nathan was doing his level best not to lose his patience, but Duke’s deflections were starting to irk him. He was trying to-he wanted to help. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to, and Duke was being difficult. Was it so hard for him just to come out and tell Nathan what happened?
Then again, Nathan thought, he hadn’t exactly made it easy for the other guy to talk to him in the past few months. Maybe - and he admitted this hesitantly, but earnestly - it was his fault. He could at least hang out for a couple drinks and make sure he was okay. He owed Duke that.
“Duke,” he prompted again, when Duke didn’t answer. “What happened?”
Duke’s hand disappeared into his mess of hair, and after a long moment, he let out a sigh. “Just a bar fight,” he said.
“You usually close at,” Nathan checked his watch, “ten-thirty for ‘just a bar fight?’”
“Yeah, well, one of the perks of being the owner, I guess.”
Another deflection.
Nathan sighed. “We gonna do this all night?” he asked.
“Or you could go home,” Duke said, and Nathan didn’t have to see his face to imagine the cheeky smile that was probably curled on his lips right about then.
He’d let him hold onto it for a little while. See, Nathan didn’t claim to be an expert in all things Duke, but then, he figured he was probably as close as anyone was going to get. He’d grown up with the guy, and maybe it was rough, but there had been a time when they’d been friends.
There was a time when they’d been more than that.
The thought merited another mouthful of scotch, but by then, the damage was already done. He remembered…he remembered after high school. Things had gotten pretty hot and heavy, and then Duke had-well, Duke had just disappeared. Dropped off the face of the earth, as far as Nathan knew.
When he’d popped back up, Nathan hadn’t been sure what to think. In the end, he’d decided that being angry was better than being confused, and he’d kept to the creed of hating Duke Crocker from that day forth.
But then Audrey had shown up, and she’d turned everything on its head. She’d brought Duke back into his life, forced him to spend time with him. She’d forced him to see Duke as more than just a smuggler - it had been all too easy, especially being a police officer, to only see Duke in those terms - which had effectively ruined all his hard work. Working on cases had become celebratory drinks after the cases, which had become watching games on Duke’s big screen TV and drinks together that had absolutely nothing to do with cases (or, sometimes, Audrey) at all. Somehow, despite Nathan’s best efforts, they’d gotten…closer.
And then Duke’s Trouble had kicked in.
He wasn’t sure really what happened after then. All the mess with the Guard, with Jordan, with Audrey - it had all gotten out of hand, and he’d had to work his ass off just trying to keep everything together. Maybe he had taken out a few too many of his frustrations on Duke; maybe he projected a few too many of his own suspicions onto him, when really, the people he was suspicious of were those he was most protective of.
Whatever the hell had happened, it had somehow ended up here. And maybe, Nathan thought, this was exactly where it needed to end up: he and Duke drinking together in the ruins of Duke’s bar. A wiser man that Nathan might’ve said there was a metaphor or a moral to be found in there somewhere.
Nathan leaned more towards the idea that they would both have to be pretty drunk to open up to one another.
However, with half the bottle gone before Nathan had even gotten there and the barely-there-but-noticeable slur in Duke’s voice, if Duke wasn’t exactly “pretty drunk” yet, he was heading that direction fast. And it just so happened Nathan knew what buttons to press.
After all, in the past few months, there was only one thing he could think of that could have Duke looking so miserable, so defeated, so…scared. Only one thing that could break him down like this.
“Something happened with your Trouble, didn’t it?”
Author: verdrehtgeist
Rating: M
Pairing: Nathan/Duke
Notes: When Nathan found Duke drowning his sorrows in a bottle of scotch, he had no idea it would end like it did. Now, with things between them worse than ever, what's it going to take for Nathan to figure out how he feels?
Warnings: angst, Duke!whumpage (and resulting Nuke!fluff)
It had been a long and painfully boring day. No calls came in, not one, and in the absence of something better to do, Nathan had spent the better part of the day wading through stack after stack of paperwork. The stuff had a tendency to back up, especially since all the cases with Troubled people ended up being an exercise in creative writing. To be honest, he wasn’t much of a writer himself, but he had to admit, he was getting pretty good at it.
The thought really should’ve bothered him more than it did.
In fact, by the end of the night, he was actually kind of grateful for it. He’d decided just to stay late and knock the whole thing out. It would be kind of nice, he thought, to be all caught up on his paperwork. At least until the next Troubled person came around and turned the town on its head again.
So…probably a day, maybe two.
Regardless, there was an overwhelming surge of relief when he crossed his last T and dotted his last I. It was nearly ten o’clock, mind, but he’d definitely done worse. He was actually looking forward to a good night’s sleep.
Coat on, car keys in hand, Nathan started out of the office. Things were looking good. He made it out of the building without being stopped. He got to his car, and nothing happened. As he climbed into the driver’s seat, he wondered if today might actually be the day when nothing went to hell in a hand basket.
And then the radio flared to life.
“Nathan, hun, you there?”
He didn’t think he’d ever been so shattered to hear LaVerne’s voice over the radio. And for that matter, when did that woman ever stop working? He really should’ve known, being the chief and all, but he’d never really thought about it before now. He made a mental note to look into it later.
“Nathan?”
Oh well, he might as well bite the bullet. “Yeah, Laverne, I’m here. What’ve you got?” Because why else would she be getting him on the radio at eleven at night?
“We got a call in a few minutes ago, said there was some sort of disturbance and that it sounded like someone was ransacking the place.”
“Where?”
“That Crocker’s place, the Grey-”
“I know the place.” And he knew that, if his night hadn’t been ruined already, it sure as hell was now. Leave it to Duke to get in trouble on quite possibly the only day in Haven history where nothing else when wrong. He cursed the man under his breath.
And yet, even as he cursed him, he was peeling out of the parking lot of the station as fast as his truck could take him.
Gravel crunched beneath the tires of the Bronco as Nathan pulled into the Grey Gull. He barely even bothered stopping before he was jumping out, his gun at the ready. Without so much as slowing down, he booked it to the front door. Only then did he slow, and it was only to listen.
Not a sound.
The lights were on, though, he noticed. Duke’s car was in the lot. No, Duke was definitely here. But…it didn’t look like anyone else was.
Frowning, Nathan straightened a bit. He chanced a glance inside through the window, and-
“Son of a bitch.”
Nathan pulled the door open and strode inside, torn between being confused, irritated, and yeah, a little bit worried.
There, sitting at the bar, was none other than Duke Crocker. He had his back to Nathan, but from the bottle Nathan could see sitting on the bar next to him and the way his head tipped back occasionally, it seemed safe to say he was drinking.
The bar was in ruins around him.
Well, maybe ‘ruins’ was a strong word. It wasn’t too bad, but neither was it in its usual form. Most of the destruction seemed to be centered around the bar: shards of glass from broken bottles littered the floor, and every stool but the one Duke was occupying had been turned over. All the salt shakers and napkin holders that generally lined the bar had been overturned or fallen off altogether, as if swept away.
And there Duke sat amongst all of it, like he didn’t even notice it was there.
The same, however, couldn’t be said for Nathan. As he took the first couple of steps in, he felt and heard the crunch of glass beneath his boot.
Duke’s reaction wasn’t immediate. He didn’t snap around or gasp or anything, but Nathan could still tell. He could read it in the way his shoulders stiffened, pulling tighter against the fabric of his blue button-up. He could read it in the way his head seemed to tip forward, as if concealing one of those trademark Duke expressions of incredulity.
But more than that, it was just this…sense. He knew Duke knew he was there, just like he knew that something was definitely very wrong about this picture. And he had the sneaking suspicion that something was Duke himself.
“Sign said closed,” said the smuggler without so much as glancing back. The words were casual enough, but there was something in his tone…something reedy and strained, and Nathan saw a hand reach out to grip the bottle by the neck. There was a splash of liquid, then the bottle returned to its place, and once again, Duke’s head tipped back.
Something about the sight brought a lump to his throat. He wondered how many times Duke had done this, how many times he’d sat at his own bar, alone, drowning his sorrows in the bottom of a bottle. All the time he’d been avoiding him - because that was what he’d been doing. Avoiding him. He’d like to say it was because of Duke’s Trouble, that he didn’t trust him, but that wasn’t it. Not all of it, at least.
It was because he could still feel it. Still feel him. His hand still tingled from that brush on the boat after they’d beat the ever-loving shit out of each other; his skin still burned with every touch since, accidental and not-so-accidental. It was why he stayed away - because every time he was around, he couldn’t help wanting to get close to him, just to feel again. Just to test it, to make sure it was real. He just-he couldn’t stop. He didn’t even know that he wanted to.
And that was what scared him.
He swallowed, tearing his eyes away from Duke’s back to survey the place. “What happened here?”
Duke’s shoulders bobbed a little in the barest hints of a chuckle. “Pardon our mess while we redecorate.”
“Don’t be a smartass,” Nathan shot back. He made his way over to the bar, just a bit behind Duke, and folded his arms across his chest. “Someone called the station about some sort of disturbance. Said it sounded like someone was ransacking the place. Don’t suppose you’d know anything about that, would you?”
Another sip of what looked a lot like whiskey, and then, “Can’t say I would.” He sounded so blasé, so nonchalant, but even though he couldn’t see Duke’s face, Nathan knew that something was wrong. His voice just sounded…raw, and Nathan could practically taste the distress rolling off him in waves. For a guy that was usually so good at concealing his emotions, Duke was broadcasting awfully loud tonight.
And the fact that he was being such a dick about it frankly ticked Nathan off. “Damn it, Duke, I got called out here for a reason, and I don’t have time to-”
“Then go.” The two words cut through Nathan’s own like a knife, sharp and stinging. “You’ve done your civic duty and all that, so get going.” The whole time, Duke didn’t so much as look at him, and even as he polished off another glass, his face stayed obscured. “I don’t mean to bean ungracious host or anything, but I’m sure you and your mad cop skills can find your own way out.”
Part of Nathan wanted to do just that, on principle. If Duke wanted to be an ass, then so be it; he could take care of his own mess. Besides, Nathan was starting to wonder if there had ever been an intruder at all. The cuts on Duke’s hands didn’t look like defensive wounds, but rather like nicks from glass. If he’d made the mess, then why shouldn’t Nathan leave him to clean it up by his own damn self?
But then…something stopped him. He didn’t know what, and he didn’t know why, but instead of heading for the door like he knew he should’ve, like he would’ve had every right to, he stopped. Carefully, he picked up one of the stools from where it had fallen amongst the broken glass surrounding the bar, and he righted it next to Duke’s.
He should leave him, he thought, and yet even as he thought about it, he sat down next to him. Hell, maybe it was Audrey talking, but Duke had done a lot for them lately. Done a lot, he would admit, for him.
The man beside him had helped him find Audrey when she’d been taken. He’d chased him through a damn corn field when, at the time, he had no idea what would be waiting for him. And though Nathan gave him grief for it - he realized a little guiltily that he didn’t remember a time when he’d let the opportunity slip by to remind the guy of it - he’d saved dozens, maybe hundreds of lives killing that Nix guy. He’d risked his life trying to save a woman that had, less than an hour before, nearly drowned him, and all while Nathan had been pointing a gun at him. And when he’d died…Audrey had filled him in, and she hadn’t skimped on any of the details, of just how hard Duke had worked to help her get him back. How he’d been the first of them to run over to him. He still remembered the smile, the odd look on his face when he’d come back. Was it relief?
And now that he thought about it, he’d never really thanked him. Not just for that last one, but for any of it. Worse, he’d antagonized him for it, never failing to doubt him at every turn, never hiding his suspicions.
Thinking about it, he didn’t even know why he said half those things. He didn’t…he didn’t mean them. At least, he didn’t think he did. It was just, when Duke was around, stuff slipped. It was like a knee-jerk reaction. A reflex. The way Duke made him feel whenever he was around….
“Don’t suppose you’ve got another glass lying around here in one piece.”
Duke’s head dropped, and a huff that might’ve been a chuckle sounded from beneath the curtain of dark hair. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Rather than dignifying that with a response, though, Nathan reached around Duke and grabbed what looked to be the sole surviving piece of glassware in sight. It was a mug, but damned if Nathan cared.
“What are you doing?” Duke muttered as Nathan picked up the bottle - he’d been right: whiskey - and poured himself a glass.
“What does it look like?”
“It looks like I should start remembering to lock my door.” And if Nathan detected a hint of a sulk in the words or the way Duke snatched the bottle back, he wisely chose not to mention it. “Listen, if you’re here to-”
“Did you do this?” He tried to sound casual, keeping his eyes trained forward a taking a swig of bourbon. Of course it was the good stuff, he thought.
There was silence for a moment, and Nathan wondered if Duke was just going to ignore him. But then, “Not all of it.”
Nathan’s eyebrow ticked. “You had help?”
Duke’s shoulders bobbed in a chuckle. “Help,” he said. “Right.”
“So, what happened?” Nathan was doing his level best not to lose his patience, but Duke’s deflections were starting to irk him. He was trying to-he wanted to help. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to, and Duke was being difficult. Was it so hard for him just to come out and tell Nathan what happened?
Then again, Nathan thought, he hadn’t exactly made it easy for the other guy to talk to him in the past few months. Maybe - and he admitted this hesitantly, but earnestly - it was his fault. He could at least hang out for a couple drinks and make sure he was okay. He owed Duke that.
“Duke,” he prompted again, when Duke didn’t answer. “What happened?”
Duke’s hand disappeared into his mess of hair, and after a long moment, he let out a sigh. “Just a bar fight,” he said.
“You usually close at,” Nathan checked his watch, “ten-thirty for ‘just a bar fight?’”
“Yeah, well, one of the perks of being the owner, I guess.”
Another deflection.
Nathan sighed. “We gonna do this all night?” he asked.
“Or you could go home,” Duke said, and Nathan didn’t have to see his face to imagine the cheeky smile that was probably curled on his lips right about then.
He’d let him hold onto it for a little while. See, Nathan didn’t claim to be an expert in all things Duke, but then, he figured he was probably as close as anyone was going to get. He’d grown up with the guy, and maybe it was rough, but there had been a time when they’d been friends.
There was a time when they’d been more than that.
The thought merited another mouthful of scotch, but by then, the damage was already done. He remembered…he remembered after high school. Things had gotten pretty hot and heavy, and then Duke had-well, Duke had just disappeared. Dropped off the face of the earth, as far as Nathan knew.
When he’d popped back up, Nathan hadn’t been sure what to think. In the end, he’d decided that being angry was better than being confused, and he’d kept to the creed of hating Duke Crocker from that day forth.
But then Audrey had shown up, and she’d turned everything on its head. She’d brought Duke back into his life, forced him to spend time with him. She’d forced him to see Duke as more than just a smuggler - it had been all too easy, especially being a police officer, to only see Duke in those terms - which had effectively ruined all his hard work. Working on cases had become celebratory drinks after the cases, which had become watching games on Duke’s big screen TV and drinks together that had absolutely nothing to do with cases (or, sometimes, Audrey) at all. Somehow, despite Nathan’s best efforts, they’d gotten…closer.
And then Duke’s Trouble had kicked in.
He wasn’t sure really what happened after then. All the mess with the Guard, with Jordan, with Audrey - it had all gotten out of hand, and he’d had to work his ass off just trying to keep everything together. Maybe he had taken out a few too many of his frustrations on Duke; maybe he projected a few too many of his own suspicions onto him, when really, the people he was suspicious of were those he was most protective of.
Whatever the hell had happened, it had somehow ended up here. And maybe, Nathan thought, this was exactly where it needed to end up: he and Duke drinking together in the ruins of Duke’s bar. A wiser man that Nathan might’ve said there was a metaphor or a moral to be found in there somewhere.
Nathan leaned more towards the idea that they would both have to be pretty drunk to open up to one another.
However, with half the bottle gone before Nathan had even gotten there and the barely-there-but-noticeable slur in Duke’s voice, if Duke wasn’t exactly “pretty drunk” yet, he was heading that direction fast. And it just so happened Nathan knew what buttons to press.
After all, in the past few months, there was only one thing he could think of that could have Duke looking so miserable, so defeated, so…scared. Only one thing that could break him down like this.
“Something happened with your Trouble, didn’t it?”