What do we do now? (A dealor fic)

The night it all started.

Setting: March- 1974
Rogers POV:

I went to the bar to get another drink. I think this would be my 5th, or maybe 6th. Eh, who cares anyway. The night is still young, and if I spend my time trying to calculate how many drinks I've had I think I'll go mad.
I stumbled over to the couch where I'd last seen my band mates. I know I should be socializing, this is a party after all, but I just want to be around my friends at the moment. As I made my way to the old, stained couch, I noticed Brian and Freddie had left. I noticed John was still sitting on the couch alone, so I I walked over to sit with him.
"Hey deaks, what happened to Freddie and Bri?"
"Oh, Brian was talking up some girl and went to one of the bedrooms with her, and Freddie went outside with some guy, I think they might have left." He replied.
I could tell by the smell of alcohol coming from his breath that I wasn't the only one who had had one to many drinks.
Then a familiar song came on the loud speakers.
Flew in from Miami Beach BOAC
Didn't get to bed last night.
The sound of paul McCartneys voice filled the house. A smile appeared on Johns face.
"I love this song!" He sang out.  He reached his arm toward me, that big smile still plastered on his face.
"Care for a dance?" He asked.
I put my hand on his, and I followed his lead up to the "dance floor" it was technically someone's kitchen, but for now it was for dancing.
John started dancing, and all I could do was smile, he looked so cute when he smiled. I mean, not in a romantic way, but the way his eyes closed slightly and he danced like he did on stage with his bass had always given me little butterflies in my stomach.
As Paul's voice died down, another song took its place.
I found my thrill
On blueberry hill
I had never been a huge Elvis fan, but as this thought was entering my mind, I felt something press against my waist. Johns hand. Even though I wasn't gay, the touch of Johns hand made me feel extremely nervous, yet comfortable. He put his other arm on my waist and began to slow dance to the song. I put my hands on his shoulders and did the same. It doesn't mean anything, right? We're just drunk. Yes! That's it! We're both too drunk to understand what's going on.
Johns hand left my side and took my hand, our fingers interlocking. He started to lead me somewhere.
"Deaky, where are we-"
I was cut off by Johns soft voice.
"Shh, you'll see."
He lead me to a bedroom. John sat on the edge of the bed, and I did as well. I don't know what's going on right now, but I'm not mad at it.
John stroked my blonde hair, inching closer to me. So close I could feel his breath, and smell the alcohol from it.
The butterflies in my stomach were getting more intense every time he breathed. Every time he moved closer to me. Every time his hands stroked my hair. He whispered,
"Would you be mad at me if I kissed you right now?"
My stomach churned. Of course I would be mad! I'm not gay, and neither is John, he's just drunk. I'm just drunk!
My cheeks flushed red.
But, would I reeeaaaly be mad? I mean, it's just a kiss, it would mean absolutely nothing. Wouldn't it? No, i can't do this, it's too weird.
As I opened my lips to say no, John pressed his lips on mine. I was in shock. I moved my hands to push him away, but he took his hands and pushed against my head and stroked my hair as his lips were gently kissing mine.
Well, it's just a kiss, and we're both drunk. Plus, I wouldn't want to hurt his feelings if he does like me by rejecting him. I put my arms around his waist, and slid them up his shirt. My hands were rubbing his back as we made out on the old bed. I could feel something pressing up against my leg,  John was getting hard. At first I didn't know what to think, but then I noticed the fabric around my crotch was getting tighter as well.  We stayed like this for what must have only been about 2 minutes, when Johns hand crept his way from my head down to my stomach, then down to my pants. My heart started racing. He started to pull my zipper down.
"John" I whispered, but with no response.
"John!" I said louder this time. He looked up at me and stopped pulling at my pants.
"What is it roggy?" He responded, clearly extremely drunk.
"John, we cant do this."
"But why can't we?"
"John you know why. We're both men. You have Veronica, I'm dating Josephine. We're both drunk."
I quietly told him. He slowly took his hand off my lower half, his other hand loosening from my head. He sat up.
"You're right, I'm sorry. I don't know what got into me." The brunette told me.
"It's okay. Why don't we get out of here and try to find Freddie and Brian?"
"Alright."
John got up and left quite quickly. I don't know what just happened. One moment we were just talking like friends, the next he was trying to fuck me! I have a lot of questions, like what has gotten into John, and why did I let this happen. But my biggest question is why did I like it.

To be continued...