One-shots (boyxboy)

Drunk (Mickey and Simon)

A/N: It used to be in the collection of my stories ("Drunk"), but I decided to put it here. Hope you like it. 

“I don’t know about this, man,” he says, hand ruffling his hair. He keeps walking back and forth. I’m leaning against the sink of the men’s bathroom. It stinks everywhere, but it’s the only place we could talk; the first place I could think of, anyways.

“I just told you I liked you,” I say, and roll my eyes. “And you don’t believe me?”

It is bad enough being here, in a small bathroom, with one wall of mirrors, and seeing everything double, except it’s not because of the alcohol. This room is like the world of truth; everything you thought was hidden, mirrors into your face, and you’re too stunned by it to think clearly.

“I don’t about this, I don’t want to,” he continues his rumbling, and I sigh. This is not what I imagined would happen. This is not what anyone would imagine. “Like, are you messing with me because I’m gay?”

I rub my temples, trying to calm myself down, but all I can do is go mad on all the small noises: the music that reaches the bathroom, his feet on the floor, him breathing, someone yelling outside, the silent tick in my mind that won’t go away. I grunt under my breath. “What does a man have to do,” I say to myself and swiftly push myself away from the sink, and rush to where Simon is. I pin his hands against the wall with mine, and he’s cornered, looking confusedly at me with his big deer eyes.

“I like you,” I say slowly, staring intensely at him, so the message will get to him. “I like you.”

He calms down a bit, but I feel like I need to do more proving, it’s just that I’m tired.

“I’m here because of you,” I tell him, and he shifts under my grasp. I ignore it, not letting go. “I’d much rather get drunk on my own, by myself, not in the middle of a fucking rave, with all those nasty, ridiculous laser lights directed at my eye. And yes, I was hoping you’d be a bit more drunk, so you’d believe me. But anyways, I went with it. And here we are, two guys in a bathroom, and one is being pinned down by the other.” I give him the final stare, and make sure that he won’t attack me,  then let go, and take a step back.

“And I’m not just imagining it?” he asks, raising his eyebrow questioningly.

“No, not one of us is insane,” I reply and run my hand through my hair. “Although, no guarantees.”

“Could you prove it to me?” he pushes it further, although I think I’ve done enough. Isn’t cornering him in the bathroom believable enough for him? Isn’t having a long monologue about how I like him the last drop, so he’d finally take my word for it?

“Are you implying I kiss you?” I ask and stare at him, which probably makes him feel uncomfortable. He tilts his head and bites his lower lip, which I assume is a ‘yes’. I blow out a breath. “This is so weird,” I mumble and then gesture for him to come closer. “I really didn’t like that corner. I’m not going to kiss you in there,” I explain.

He chuckles and inch by inch slides closer, his back against the sink.

“I have never done anything this awkward in my life,” I mutter and cover my face.

“So it’s perfect,” he replies and I look through my fingers.

“Seriously?”

“It was awkward for me too,” he excuses himself right away. “Plus, I’ve never had anyone confess their gay in the men’s room.” He laughs.

This irritates me. It’s like I’ve lost all power, or given it away, which is not what I’d usually do.

So I take control.

With one step I’m in front of him, my one hand on his neck, the other on his waist. “I really don’t like being laughed at,” I whisper angrily.

“Oh, it bothers you?” he snaps back, a devious grin on his lips. “But I could have never got you so close to me if I hadn’t.” He bites into his lower lip and I catch the movement. A flame flickers in me, and suddenly my mind is on fire. I lean closer, but keep a distance between us. I press him harder against the sink with my body and breathe angrily against his lips.

“You’re driving me insane,” I whisper, so close to losing control. I search for his eyes.

He stares back at me and swallows. I feel it under my thumb.

“No guarantees,” he replies, and it’s the final notch.

I seal his lips with mine and push him with my body. He pulls me closer with one hand, while the other snakes up to my neck. We mimic each other’s movements, and I deepen the kiss.

I’m burning everywhere. It’s not fireworks; it’s a burning cigarette in my lungs, in my heart, and the hot ash in my nerves. We are breathing so heavily, and I know I should pull away from him, but I can’t.

I can’t believe I waited so long to kiss him.

Who needs alcohol, when you can get drunk on people?

And right now, I’m on the verge of blacking out; that’s how drunk I am on him.

When he finally does gently shove me, I take a step back and lean against the stall.

It’s like I’ve ran five miles at full speed.

Simon smiles, he’s still looking at me. He rests his hands on both sides of him, holding the sink, and suddenly, jumps to sit on it. “You know, I wouldn’t mind a second round,” he says, barely containing himself. He licks his lips and smirks.

“I think I need to cool down, first,” I say and walk next to Simon, where I splash water to my face. And as I feel his eyes on me, I remove my shirt. “Yeah, I think I’m all good now.”