JUST TONIGHT... (PART 01/02)
Title: Just Tonight (01/02)
Authors: geekintehpink & ks_writes
Character/Pairing: Glen Murray (Boston Bruins)/Tim Connolly (Buffalo Sabres)
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, k?
Rating: Soft R.
Warnings: Mild language, boys kissing.
Word Count: 3,037
Author's Note: Set in the future. The events leading up will be explained in the next chapter...
The bar was packed, as it usually was around baseball playoff time in Boston. Sure, all sports in Boston were a big deal, but it was predominantly a baseball town, given the history that the Red Sox had. Though the bar was probably not a good place for a hockey player to be spending his time the day before a game, Glen Murray was constantly told that he wasn't a hockey player. A washed up hack. A winger with no center. He laughed sarcastically and swallowed another chug of his Miller. And laughed again. Wasn't that ironic, as the next day he was facing the Sabres, who would likely play Ryan Miller. Taking a glance up at the TV to see a highlight from a Sox game prior, watching Ortiz hit it home over the green monster, he shook his head. At least one Boston team was worth their weight in salt. He sighed, glancing back down at his hands, since seeing every other team in Boston, but the one he was supposed to be a leader of, succeed was something that would make even one of the 'greatest forwards in the NHL' crack.
What Glen didn't, and couldn't, know was that there was someone else in the bar in a very similar situation to his. His team were expected by some to fall apart after losing core players, and he was expected to by others to be one of those who prevented that happening. So far, it'd had been a schizophrenic campaign. Big wins followed by huge losses; good nights followed by terrible ones. There was no consistency, and he was extremely unhappy that this reflected in his play.
Tim Connolly didn't usually frequent bars, let alone packed ones, but tonight he had the urge to feel lost among a crowd; to hide in a sea of unknown faces. He could certainly have company from the team if he wanted it, but tonight he felt it would stifle him. He felt glad to be away from his home city. He could get lost here in Boston, and that was what he wanted.
He did see a somewhat familiar face, though, on his way to get another beer. One of the opposition, in the form of Glen Murray. So he wasn't the only hockey player alone in a bar, he thought. Glen looked up and saw him. Tim nodded in acknowledgment, expecting that to be the only exchange. Instead, Glen walked over to him. "So I'm not the only lonely hockey player in a bar by himself tonight."
"What makes you think I'm lonely?"
"Believe me. If you're in here by yourself, you're lonely,” Glen said with a small smile, taking liberties and taking a seat near the younger man. Face crestfallen, and seemingly the weight of the world resting on his squared shoulders, Glen recognized him right away. Tim Connolly. A younger version of himself, actually. A half-smile crossed Glen's face, as he tried to push past the defenses that Connolly so obviously threw up. Glen looked at the bartender and smiled. “His next is on me.”
Tim's head snapped over toward Glen, and a shocked and confused look crossed his face. “You don't have to do that.”
Glen had seen that coming. A younger him, he reminded himself. And yeah, he would have done that then, too. “I know I don't,” he said in a soft tone, shrugging a shoulder and nodding down at the table as the bartender set the two beers down on the bar. “I figure, you wouldn't be here if there wasn't something, or someone, you didn't want off your mind, right?” he asked with a half-smile. “God, that sounded creepy, didn't it?”
"Yeah. But only because it's creepily accurate," Tim sighed. "Let me guess. The same thing applies to you, that's how you know."
"Pretty perceptive there," Glen replied. "But I guessed first, so... you want to talk about it?"
"Not so much," Tim replied, taking a swig of his beer. "I'm not sure you'd understand.
"Didn't we already establish I understand a lot more than you think? Hey, what are the chances of two hockey players ending up in the same bar like this? You might as well share with me."
"I really think you'll wish you hadn't asked. Ever been in love with a teammate, Glen?"
Glen paused, as he tried to make sure if Tim had really said what he thought he'd just said. "Oh my god," he said, eventually. "You really are just like me."
"You're not... oh. You are. Wow. It's not just me, after all."
"It's really not just you, Tim."
"Wow. Current or former?"
Glen shrugged, wondering which teammate Tim Connolly could be in love with. “Little of both, I'd wager...” he said softly, biting his lip and laughing. “Doesn't that make me sound so bad?” he shook his head sadly. God, but it was true. Joe. Yeah, he'd been in love with him. And, God. Marc. “What about you? Current or former?”
“Former...” Tim spoke, the sadness evident in his voice. “Both?”
Glen thought about it little more, going over the list of former Buffalo Sabres, and deciding that it was either Chris Drury of Daniel Briere. “Well, not really both. One of each, I guess...” he laughed a little. “East or west?”
“East...”
“Ah. West...” Glen raised his hand in a 'guilty as charged' type of gesture. “And the guy in the west is the reason that it...isn't working with the guy on my team, if that makes any sense at all...”
"Yeah, that makes sense," Tim said. "You're still, well, messed up from the one who left, and it's affecting the one you like now. Makes perfect sense."
"Is that a problem you're having too?" Glen asked.
"Not right now," Tim answered, quietly. "I'm not really getting over it. I've tried, god knows, but I'm not moving on. It's driving me crazy."
Glen pondered a moment before asking his question. "I have to know. Which one was it?"
"Drury," Tim answered, not looking up. "West? I'll hazard a guess at Thornton."
"This is freaking me out now," Glen frowned at him. "I think I need more beer."
"My turn," Tim said, "and I definitely agree with those sentiments." He ordered two more beers and wondered how the hell he'd ended up here with someone who was apparently exactly like him. At least there was someone who would finally understand what he was going through now, someone who knew exactly how much it hurt. Someone who wouldn't judge him for not getting over it by now.
Glen might have been a complete stranger, albeit one he'd played against god knows how many times the past few years, but Tim felt he could trust him. He made him feel at ease. Plus he'd managed to get him to talk with hardly any encouragement, so there must have been something about him...
Glen wasn't always the most trusting, either. But, God, it felt nice to talk to someone who knew. He took a giant chug of his beer and sighed. “It's unfortunate that we both have to go through this...I wouldn't even wish it on my worst enemy...” he thought aloud. “Has Chris...” he paused, not wanting to think of Joe and Cheechoo, or whoever he was with then, or wanting to make Tim think about that with Chris. “You know...” he paused.
Tim pieced it together and shrugged. “Moved on?” he said softly. “Not that I know of. That...” he paused, biting his lip and looking at Glen. “...explains a lot as far as the chemistry with Cheechoo goes...”
Glen nodded. “You're good...” he smirked, running a hand over his buzzed hair and looking up at the TV to see the absolute disaster that was the previous game, and the destroyed chemistry between he and Marc, as they tried to connect on passes, but it just wasn't happening. He looked at the bar, trying not to make it too obvious.
There was little point trying to hide it around Tim though, as he knew a thing or two about chemistry and how soon it could be lost. He'd variously had it and lost it this season, and he wondered whether or not that was his fault.
"Marc Savard..." he said, looking up at the tv, then looking back at Glen to gauge his reaction, and saw Glen shake his head in disbelief, rather than denial. "You need to stop this. Are you this scary around your own team?"
"You learn to read people. You were avoiding looking at that game, and - don't be offended - the chemistry on that line seems to have taken a knock. That doesn't usually happen for no reason..."
"No offence taken. Yeah. He told me he loved me, and I ran away, and now I'm here because I'm a fucking idiot and I'm scared. Great guy to spend time with, huh?"
"It is scary, though. That word is terrifying. To say, as well as hear. I never told Chris... he had no idea."
"Wow... that sucks."
"It really does. I never could because I knew he'd never feel the same. And now he's gone, and it's not even working out right for him in New York, and... I miss him."
"We're a pair, aren't we," Glen sighed. "Fate obviously had a hand in this. More beer, dammit."
"More beer," Tim agreed, as Glen took his turn to get the drinks. Glen smiled at him, and Tim smiled back, and maybe it was the fault of rather a lot of beer or because of how they were so frighteningly alike, but Tim felt something he hadn't expected at that smile. He felt himself grinning back at Glen before he could repress it, and looked away quickly, hoping Glen hadn't noticed much of it.
No such luck. As he returned with the drinks, Glen asked, "Now what was that all about, grinning at me and looking away as if you're shy? You don't seem very shy to me tonight, Tim Connolly."
Now, Glen could have been going insane-he wouldn't put it past himself at this point-but he could have sworn that he saw a hint of a flush on Tim's cheeks at that point. And it was definitely okay, because as he took a passing glance at the mirror behind the bar, there was a hint on his own, too. The heat. Blame it on the heat.
“Well, neither do you, Mr. Face as Red as a Cherry Tomato...” Tim spoke, causing Glen to turn his head back and see a smirk to rival his own cross the other man's face. Glen had to laugh. “But, really? I think you're right. This is gonna sound really 'pick up linish,' but I think there's a reason we're both here right now. God...we're essentially one another's clones...”
“I feel like I'm in Star Wars or something...”
Tim laughed again. “Or some really bad sci-fi flick...”
“What's the difference?” Glen asked.
And with that, they both shared a laugh, as the bartender set down the fourth round for each. Glen bit his lip and turned a bit red. “You know,” he spoke in a soft tone. “You should smile more often...”
Tim was suddenly glad he could blame the heat for the expression on his face, because he felt himself blushing at that comment. "Thank you," he replied, softly. "There hasn't been too much to smile about lately... or at least, stay smiling about. I think tonight is the first time I haven't had to force a laugh in a long while... and by the way," Tim said, before taking another drink, "that really did sound like a pick-up line." He grinned at Glen's confounded expression.
He hoped he hadn't misinterpreted what Glen had been saying. That was flirting, wasn't it? He wasn't entirely sure why he was doing it - again, probably the beer - but Glen had listened to him, he was certainly charming, and... Tim couldn't stop looking at him.
"I've had too much to drink," Glen answered eventually, smiling at him. "Clearly. Because you appear to be flirting with me."
"I think it's you flirting with me."
"I am not!" Glen laughed, in a tone that wasn't anything like denial.
"I should smile more often? Sure, that's not flirting. You should do the same by the way. And you should laugh more, too. It's good for you. And it suits you."
"So when you say it, it's not flirting?"
"When did I say I wasn't flirting?" Tim wondered momentarily what the hell he'd just said, but he decided to go with it.
Glen realized, in that instant, that he'd spent far too much time with men who were forward. Because if you had asked him, three years ago, to use a line like that? He would have pointed in your face and labeled you shameless. But here he was, using the very line that a young Joe Thornton had used on him. And, contrary to what he'd thought would happen, the smirk just wouldn't go away. For either of them. Tim wasn't the only one finding a long lost reason to smile. “You know what they say about beer. Supplies you with liquid courage, is that the phrase?”
“I'd say that about sums it up...” Tim's smile seemed to grow at that remark, and Glen's followed suit. “Plus, I don't think either of us would be up to using pickup lines if the other wasn't giving off signs that they were prime for picking...” he added with a wry grin.
And Glen reciprocated it. “I'll drink to that...” he said, raising his glass and clinking it against Tim's glass, before taking another giant swill. “Imagine if we'd met sober...” he mused.
“Oh God...” Tim laughed, and Glen had to admit, his heart raced a little faster at the sound. “We'd both be falling over ourselves and...”
Glen imagined himself sober, trying to come up with the right words to say to his clone, and shook his head in amusement. “Yeah...it would definitely be funny...”
“Here's to liquid courage...”
“We already drank to that...” Glen chuckled.
“So? Okay, let's drink to something else. Here's to... flirting with a total stranger."
Glen laughed again. "I'll drink that that, too. I can't say I'm not enjoying this..."
"Good!" Tim grinned back at him. "I think after everything we've been through we deserve to enjoy ourselves, have a little fun."
"Exactly. I'll definitely drink to that."
Tim kept on smiling at Glen, and Glen kept on smiling back, and Tim was suddenly far too aware of the crowd around them. While he was sure they weren't paying a blind bit of notice to Glen and himself while there were sports on the tv, the thoughts in his head were so loud he was surprised he hadn't just blurted them out already.
He still wasn't sure what he was doing, but what was the worst that would happen? He'd say no and they'd never see each other again, or he'd say yes and...he didn't know what would follow, but he wanted to find out.
"Hey, Glen. Can we get out of here?"
Glen's grin broadened, and he nodded his head. “Definitely...” he grabbed his cell phone from his pocket and called the taxi he'd told to wait around town. He'd known he was going to get drunk, yeah. But what he didn't expect was that he'd end up flirting, and potentially sleeping, with the enemy. However, the concept was certainly welcome. He finished the last of his liquid courage, and stood, albeit slightly wobblier, on his feet, flashing another smile in Tim's direction. Katie had taken the kids back to their place in LA, to visit with her parents, so Glen had a completely vacant apartment awaiting them.
Tim finished the last of his drink, too, and they both paid their share, heading to the door of the smokey bar. On a typical day, the fresh air would have been sobering, but there was a bit else adding to their drunken state. So, no, the high didn't exactly go away. The flirting continued casually, and a little quieter, in the cab, as they whispered at each other and giggled uncontrollably, catching a few odd looks from the cab driver. But that only made them laugh harder. And when they got to Front Street, where Glen's apartment was, Glen paid the driver and showed Tim into his apartment.
He bit his lip and half-smiled at the other man. “Can I offer you anything else to drink?” he asked with a quick smirk. Not that he was trying to get Tim drunk-or, drunker as it were-but it seemed that the more liquor that went into their systems, the more confident they became. And whoever took the final step? May need just that much more confidence.
Tim replied yes, and sat himself down on Glen's couch, still grinning at him. He knew exactly what was going to happen, and he'd stopped analysing it long ago. He took his bottle of beer from Glen, who apologised for the limited options.
"Sorry it's just beer or more beer..." he said, taking a seat beside Tim.
"Not a problem. Though I know you're just trying to get me drunk."
"You're already drunk!"
"Not that drunk," Tim smirked at him. "I'm sober enough to know exactly what I'm doing..."
"Well, I'm glad to hear that," Glen smirked back at him.
"And sober enough to know what I want..."
"What would that be, Tim?" Glen whispered in response.
Tim didn't reply, instead moving next to Glen, taking his face in one of his hands, and kissing him, softly at first, as if to make sure he wasn't going to change his mind. He felt Glen's arms pulling him in closer and took that as a cue to continue, so he kissed him deeper, parting Glen's lips with his tongue, realising how much he missed this feeling, the feeling that someone wanted him. Glen's response certainly told him that was the case.
He stopped, looking at Glen. "You," Tim replied, simply.
I was scared but once I thought about, I let it go
Everything she said to me I guess I ought to know
We're all tired talk when it comes to shove
Put up, put out or stay at home.
We'll never be the same, never feel this way again
I'd give you anything but you want pain.
A little water please, I taste you all over my teeth
Never again. Just tonight? Okay.
Authors: geekintehpink & ks_writes
Character/Pairing: Glen Murray (Boston Bruins)/Tim Connolly (Buffalo Sabres)
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, k?
Rating: Soft R.
Warnings: Mild language, boys kissing.
Word Count: 3,037
Author's Note: Set in the future. The events leading up will be explained in the next chapter...
The bar was packed, as it usually was around baseball playoff time in Boston. Sure, all sports in Boston were a big deal, but it was predominantly a baseball town, given the history that the Red Sox had. Though the bar was probably not a good place for a hockey player to be spending his time the day before a game, Glen Murray was constantly told that he wasn't a hockey player. A washed up hack. A winger with no center. He laughed sarcastically and swallowed another chug of his Miller. And laughed again. Wasn't that ironic, as the next day he was facing the Sabres, who would likely play Ryan Miller. Taking a glance up at the TV to see a highlight from a Sox game prior, watching Ortiz hit it home over the green monster, he shook his head. At least one Boston team was worth their weight in salt. He sighed, glancing back down at his hands, since seeing every other team in Boston, but the one he was supposed to be a leader of, succeed was something that would make even one of the 'greatest forwards in the NHL' crack.
What Glen didn't, and couldn't, know was that there was someone else in the bar in a very similar situation to his. His team were expected by some to fall apart after losing core players, and he was expected to by others to be one of those who prevented that happening. So far, it'd had been a schizophrenic campaign. Big wins followed by huge losses; good nights followed by terrible ones. There was no consistency, and he was extremely unhappy that this reflected in his play.
Tim Connolly didn't usually frequent bars, let alone packed ones, but tonight he had the urge to feel lost among a crowd; to hide in a sea of unknown faces. He could certainly have company from the team if he wanted it, but tonight he felt it would stifle him. He felt glad to be away from his home city. He could get lost here in Boston, and that was what he wanted.
He did see a somewhat familiar face, though, on his way to get another beer. One of the opposition, in the form of Glen Murray. So he wasn't the only hockey player alone in a bar, he thought. Glen looked up and saw him. Tim nodded in acknowledgment, expecting that to be the only exchange. Instead, Glen walked over to him. "So I'm not the only lonely hockey player in a bar by himself tonight."
"What makes you think I'm lonely?"
"Believe me. If you're in here by yourself, you're lonely,” Glen said with a small smile, taking liberties and taking a seat near the younger man. Face crestfallen, and seemingly the weight of the world resting on his squared shoulders, Glen recognized him right away. Tim Connolly. A younger version of himself, actually. A half-smile crossed Glen's face, as he tried to push past the defenses that Connolly so obviously threw up. Glen looked at the bartender and smiled. “His next is on me.”
Tim's head snapped over toward Glen, and a shocked and confused look crossed his face. “You don't have to do that.”
Glen had seen that coming. A younger him, he reminded himself. And yeah, he would have done that then, too. “I know I don't,” he said in a soft tone, shrugging a shoulder and nodding down at the table as the bartender set the two beers down on the bar. “I figure, you wouldn't be here if there wasn't something, or someone, you didn't want off your mind, right?” he asked with a half-smile. “God, that sounded creepy, didn't it?”
"Yeah. But only because it's creepily accurate," Tim sighed. "Let me guess. The same thing applies to you, that's how you know."
"Pretty perceptive there," Glen replied. "But I guessed first, so... you want to talk about it?"
"Not so much," Tim replied, taking a swig of his beer. "I'm not sure you'd understand.
"Didn't we already establish I understand a lot more than you think? Hey, what are the chances of two hockey players ending up in the same bar like this? You might as well share with me."
"I really think you'll wish you hadn't asked. Ever been in love with a teammate, Glen?"
Glen paused, as he tried to make sure if Tim had really said what he thought he'd just said. "Oh my god," he said, eventually. "You really are just like me."
"You're not... oh. You are. Wow. It's not just me, after all."
"It's really not just you, Tim."
"Wow. Current or former?"
Glen shrugged, wondering which teammate Tim Connolly could be in love with. “Little of both, I'd wager...” he said softly, biting his lip and laughing. “Doesn't that make me sound so bad?” he shook his head sadly. God, but it was true. Joe. Yeah, he'd been in love with him. And, God. Marc. “What about you? Current or former?”
“Former...” Tim spoke, the sadness evident in his voice. “Both?”
Glen thought about it little more, going over the list of former Buffalo Sabres, and deciding that it was either Chris Drury of Daniel Briere. “Well, not really both. One of each, I guess...” he laughed a little. “East or west?”
“East...”
“Ah. West...” Glen raised his hand in a 'guilty as charged' type of gesture. “And the guy in the west is the reason that it...isn't working with the guy on my team, if that makes any sense at all...”
"Yeah, that makes sense," Tim said. "You're still, well, messed up from the one who left, and it's affecting the one you like now. Makes perfect sense."
"Is that a problem you're having too?" Glen asked.
"Not right now," Tim answered, quietly. "I'm not really getting over it. I've tried, god knows, but I'm not moving on. It's driving me crazy."
Glen pondered a moment before asking his question. "I have to know. Which one was it?"
"Drury," Tim answered, not looking up. "West? I'll hazard a guess at Thornton."
"This is freaking me out now," Glen frowned at him. "I think I need more beer."
"My turn," Tim said, "and I definitely agree with those sentiments." He ordered two more beers and wondered how the hell he'd ended up here with someone who was apparently exactly like him. At least there was someone who would finally understand what he was going through now, someone who knew exactly how much it hurt. Someone who wouldn't judge him for not getting over it by now.
Glen might have been a complete stranger, albeit one he'd played against god knows how many times the past few years, but Tim felt he could trust him. He made him feel at ease. Plus he'd managed to get him to talk with hardly any encouragement, so there must have been something about him...
Glen wasn't always the most trusting, either. But, God, it felt nice to talk to someone who knew. He took a giant chug of his beer and sighed. “It's unfortunate that we both have to go through this...I wouldn't even wish it on my worst enemy...” he thought aloud. “Has Chris...” he paused, not wanting to think of Joe and Cheechoo, or whoever he was with then, or wanting to make Tim think about that with Chris. “You know...” he paused.
Tim pieced it together and shrugged. “Moved on?” he said softly. “Not that I know of. That...” he paused, biting his lip and looking at Glen. “...explains a lot as far as the chemistry with Cheechoo goes...”
Glen nodded. “You're good...” he smirked, running a hand over his buzzed hair and looking up at the TV to see the absolute disaster that was the previous game, and the destroyed chemistry between he and Marc, as they tried to connect on passes, but it just wasn't happening. He looked at the bar, trying not to make it too obvious.
There was little point trying to hide it around Tim though, as he knew a thing or two about chemistry and how soon it could be lost. He'd variously had it and lost it this season, and he wondered whether or not that was his fault.
"Marc Savard..." he said, looking up at the tv, then looking back at Glen to gauge his reaction, and saw Glen shake his head in disbelief, rather than denial. "You need to stop this. Are you this scary around your own team?"
"You learn to read people. You were avoiding looking at that game, and - don't be offended - the chemistry on that line seems to have taken a knock. That doesn't usually happen for no reason..."
"No offence taken. Yeah. He told me he loved me, and I ran away, and now I'm here because I'm a fucking idiot and I'm scared. Great guy to spend time with, huh?"
"It is scary, though. That word is terrifying. To say, as well as hear. I never told Chris... he had no idea."
"Wow... that sucks."
"It really does. I never could because I knew he'd never feel the same. And now he's gone, and it's not even working out right for him in New York, and... I miss him."
"We're a pair, aren't we," Glen sighed. "Fate obviously had a hand in this. More beer, dammit."
"More beer," Tim agreed, as Glen took his turn to get the drinks. Glen smiled at him, and Tim smiled back, and maybe it was the fault of rather a lot of beer or because of how they were so frighteningly alike, but Tim felt something he hadn't expected at that smile. He felt himself grinning back at Glen before he could repress it, and looked away quickly, hoping Glen hadn't noticed much of it.
No such luck. As he returned with the drinks, Glen asked, "Now what was that all about, grinning at me and looking away as if you're shy? You don't seem very shy to me tonight, Tim Connolly."
Now, Glen could have been going insane-he wouldn't put it past himself at this point-but he could have sworn that he saw a hint of a flush on Tim's cheeks at that point. And it was definitely okay, because as he took a passing glance at the mirror behind the bar, there was a hint on his own, too. The heat. Blame it on the heat.
“Well, neither do you, Mr. Face as Red as a Cherry Tomato...” Tim spoke, causing Glen to turn his head back and see a smirk to rival his own cross the other man's face. Glen had to laugh. “But, really? I think you're right. This is gonna sound really 'pick up linish,' but I think there's a reason we're both here right now. God...we're essentially one another's clones...”
“I feel like I'm in Star Wars or something...”
Tim laughed again. “Or some really bad sci-fi flick...”
“What's the difference?” Glen asked.
And with that, they both shared a laugh, as the bartender set down the fourth round for each. Glen bit his lip and turned a bit red. “You know,” he spoke in a soft tone. “You should smile more often...”
Tim was suddenly glad he could blame the heat for the expression on his face, because he felt himself blushing at that comment. "Thank you," he replied, softly. "There hasn't been too much to smile about lately... or at least, stay smiling about. I think tonight is the first time I haven't had to force a laugh in a long while... and by the way," Tim said, before taking another drink, "that really did sound like a pick-up line." He grinned at Glen's confounded expression.
He hoped he hadn't misinterpreted what Glen had been saying. That was flirting, wasn't it? He wasn't entirely sure why he was doing it - again, probably the beer - but Glen had listened to him, he was certainly charming, and... Tim couldn't stop looking at him.
"I've had too much to drink," Glen answered eventually, smiling at him. "Clearly. Because you appear to be flirting with me."
"I think it's you flirting with me."
"I am not!" Glen laughed, in a tone that wasn't anything like denial.
"I should smile more often? Sure, that's not flirting. You should do the same by the way. And you should laugh more, too. It's good for you. And it suits you."
"So when you say it, it's not flirting?"
"When did I say I wasn't flirting?" Tim wondered momentarily what the hell he'd just said, but he decided to go with it.
Glen realized, in that instant, that he'd spent far too much time with men who were forward. Because if you had asked him, three years ago, to use a line like that? He would have pointed in your face and labeled you shameless. But here he was, using the very line that a young Joe Thornton had used on him. And, contrary to what he'd thought would happen, the smirk just wouldn't go away. For either of them. Tim wasn't the only one finding a long lost reason to smile. “You know what they say about beer. Supplies you with liquid courage, is that the phrase?”
“I'd say that about sums it up...” Tim's smile seemed to grow at that remark, and Glen's followed suit. “Plus, I don't think either of us would be up to using pickup lines if the other wasn't giving off signs that they were prime for picking...” he added with a wry grin.
And Glen reciprocated it. “I'll drink to that...” he said, raising his glass and clinking it against Tim's glass, before taking another giant swill. “Imagine if we'd met sober...” he mused.
“Oh God...” Tim laughed, and Glen had to admit, his heart raced a little faster at the sound. “We'd both be falling over ourselves and...”
Glen imagined himself sober, trying to come up with the right words to say to his clone, and shook his head in amusement. “Yeah...it would definitely be funny...”
“Here's to liquid courage...”
“We already drank to that...” Glen chuckled.
“So? Okay, let's drink to something else. Here's to... flirting with a total stranger."
Glen laughed again. "I'll drink that that, too. I can't say I'm not enjoying this..."
"Good!" Tim grinned back at him. "I think after everything we've been through we deserve to enjoy ourselves, have a little fun."
"Exactly. I'll definitely drink to that."
Tim kept on smiling at Glen, and Glen kept on smiling back, and Tim was suddenly far too aware of the crowd around them. While he was sure they weren't paying a blind bit of notice to Glen and himself while there were sports on the tv, the thoughts in his head were so loud he was surprised he hadn't just blurted them out already.
He still wasn't sure what he was doing, but what was the worst that would happen? He'd say no and they'd never see each other again, or he'd say yes and...he didn't know what would follow, but he wanted to find out.
"Hey, Glen. Can we get out of here?"
Glen's grin broadened, and he nodded his head. “Definitely...” he grabbed his cell phone from his pocket and called the taxi he'd told to wait around town. He'd known he was going to get drunk, yeah. But what he didn't expect was that he'd end up flirting, and potentially sleeping, with the enemy. However, the concept was certainly welcome. He finished the last of his liquid courage, and stood, albeit slightly wobblier, on his feet, flashing another smile in Tim's direction. Katie had taken the kids back to their place in LA, to visit with her parents, so Glen had a completely vacant apartment awaiting them.
Tim finished the last of his drink, too, and they both paid their share, heading to the door of the smokey bar. On a typical day, the fresh air would have been sobering, but there was a bit else adding to their drunken state. So, no, the high didn't exactly go away. The flirting continued casually, and a little quieter, in the cab, as they whispered at each other and giggled uncontrollably, catching a few odd looks from the cab driver. But that only made them laugh harder. And when they got to Front Street, where Glen's apartment was, Glen paid the driver and showed Tim into his apartment.
He bit his lip and half-smiled at the other man. “Can I offer you anything else to drink?” he asked with a quick smirk. Not that he was trying to get Tim drunk-or, drunker as it were-but it seemed that the more liquor that went into their systems, the more confident they became. And whoever took the final step? May need just that much more confidence.
Tim replied yes, and sat himself down on Glen's couch, still grinning at him. He knew exactly what was going to happen, and he'd stopped analysing it long ago. He took his bottle of beer from Glen, who apologised for the limited options.
"Sorry it's just beer or more beer..." he said, taking a seat beside Tim.
"Not a problem. Though I know you're just trying to get me drunk."
"You're already drunk!"
"Not that drunk," Tim smirked at him. "I'm sober enough to know exactly what I'm doing..."
"Well, I'm glad to hear that," Glen smirked back at him.
"And sober enough to know what I want..."
"What would that be, Tim?" Glen whispered in response.
Tim didn't reply, instead moving next to Glen, taking his face in one of his hands, and kissing him, softly at first, as if to make sure he wasn't going to change his mind. He felt Glen's arms pulling him in closer and took that as a cue to continue, so he kissed him deeper, parting Glen's lips with his tongue, realising how much he missed this feeling, the feeling that someone wanted him. Glen's response certainly told him that was the case.
He stopped, looking at Glen. "You," Tim replied, simply.
I was scared but once I thought about, I let it go
Everything she said to me I guess I ought to know
We're all tired talk when it comes to shove
Put up, put out or stay at home.
We'll never be the same, never feel this way again
I'd give you anything but you want pain.
A little water please, I taste you all over my teeth
Never again. Just tonight? Okay.