PSL for posinglikeaswan

[weedyshyguy]

"Jemaine. Mm. Jemaine. Thiss tassse...tasstess really good," Bret slurred, taking another sip of...whatever it was that had been put in his hand. He suspected Dave put it there but he wasn't really certain. It tasted sweet. And it appeared to be in a nice glass. One he probably shouldn't break. He devoted a great deal of concentration to making

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[weedyshyguy]

Bret pouted. He didn't really have any faith in his ability to pick up women at this point but he felt he had to keep pretending like he might. For appearances. "Don't wanna. Wanna stay here."

He shrugged his shoulders in Jemaine's grasp. "You'll hold me up. 'mgood."

[posinglikeaswan]

Jemaine sighed in frustration.

"Bret, I'm not holding you up until the party ends," he tightened his grip. "What if a pretty woman comes over here? Am I mean to say oh, sorry, I can't make out with you because I'm holding up my friend here who's too drunk to stand by himself. Yes, it is a shame, isn't it?. Plus it looks weird."

[weedyshyguy]

Bret's mind wasn't working properly. It went through several sets of words that were almost sentences before, finally, he just let words come out.

"Y'could make out with me."

It was close to a sentence, so he let it sit for a moment, vibrating in the air like sounds do. And then he realized what he'd said and he giggled a bit, embarrassed. And then he stared at Jemaine's lips intently. "Y'could," he repeated.

[posinglikeaswan]

Jemaine looked positively affronted.

"What?" Oh, he wasn't nearly drunk enough for this. He let his hands fall and, having rested his glass against his little finger and palm, threw back the rest of his drink.

What?

"Bret, go-- and sit-- down. You're not thinking right."

[weedyshyguy]

Bret wasn't really thinking at all. He was looking. At Jemaine's lips and his cheeks and then his eyes. Innocent. Curious. And clearly not all there, not held back by his usual shyness or any sort of thoughts as to why this would be a regretful idea.

His fingers grabbed onto Jemaine's shirt. A suggestion floated up-- he could kiss him. Just to see. What exactly he was supposed to see wasn't up for discussion. He just wanted to know. Wanted that affection, the warmth, and Jemaine's lips were so full and soft-looking, better than a girl's and Jemaine was less of a bastard than the girls were. He always went home with Jemaine.

He giggled, suddenly, surprising himself. "Don' wanna sssi'. Wan'go home. With you." He giggled again, laughing at a joke Jemaine hadn't heard.