Rose-Colored Glass.

Tom x Tamara.

All but delirious laughter ceased from the humility of the Coffin Boffin bar as two of the same entity were settled at a booth by the window, tabletop stacked with endless bottles of empty Smirnoff. With each drink absorbed, both their common sense dissolved along with their chance of staying sober for the remainder of the night.

"So, wait," began the female, chipper tone slicing through her drunken cackling, "you did what to the guy?"

"I called him a commie, and shot him with a harpoon!", answered the male with an excessive amount of glee in his voice, resulting in both their laughter to erupt with an even stronger sense of hilarity.

"No way!" Tamara chimed in, slamming her fist lightly on the table and causing Tom to jump slightly. "Mate, you are a riot! Next drink's on me."

As if exactly on cue, a raven-haired waiter passed by their booth, catching their attention as Tamara made a lousy effort to halt him. "Excuse me, sir! Could we get a bottle of your finest Smirnoff~?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, miss . . We only have diet Smirnoff—." He answered with a very clear aura of reluctance, hand rubbing the nape of his neck whilst giving an apologetic smile. Both Tom and Tamara's features simultaneously fell with a lack of amusement, two pairs of pitch-black voids lowering merely halfway.

Then, at the same time, mischievous smiles were given to each other. Both Ridgewells were shameless pyromaniacs, even when it was the rare occasion that they were completely sober. As Tom whipped out a box of matches and gripped one in his teeth, Tamara immediately got to work at pouring a trail of gas from a Jerry Can all around the perimeter of the interior — of course, everyone else was too drunk to notice.

Soon enough, a simple flame was ignited, growing larger and larger by the second—thanks to the additional finishing touch of two remarkable flamethrowers—as both blue-hooded adults made a run for it while laughing their pristine asses off. The two admired their 'accomplishment' from a nearby hill, gazing into the luminescent inferno together.

". . Well, that blows," Tom finally broke the silence, referring to the minor inconvenience of not consuming any regular Smirnoff, "what do you wanna do now?"

"The store can't be out of Smirnoff, right? Let's just buy a bottle there and . . I dunno . . drink it somewhere?" His female counterpart suggested with a mere shrug of her narrow shoulders, pulling out a silver flask from her pocket and taking a quick swig out of it. "I mean, as much as I love this shit right here, damn flavor's getting old. I need something new for a change, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean, mate," a simple nod was given from Tom as he mirrored her exact actions, though wincing slightly after his consumption; his vodka may have been a tad older than hers, considering he wasn't always energized enough to exchange it.

"But if we're leaving to go drink, can that 'somewhere' not be back at the house? Edd and Matt are there, and that's lame."

"I'll say," she scoffed in response, referring to the same exact story but with Ell and Matilda instead.

* * *

The eyeless counterparts walked out from the liquor store with smug grins on their faces, one massive bottle of Smirnoff in the trustworthy custody of Tamara. She snuck a few quick swigs of the alcohol while Tom wasn't looking, but little did she know . . he noticed right from the corner of his 'eye,' causing his smug grin to became even more of just that.

They immediately claimed a vacant alleyway once it was in their sight, plopping down against the wall and not at all hesitating to get to work on their addiction. Their consumptions turned heavier and heavier with each swig, up until the (edds)world around them began spinning.

"Hoooooly rifle on a *hic* rollercoaster~" Tom slurred, cackling softly as an arm was thrown around his doppelgänger's shoulders. The bottle was almost completely empty, and it was enough of a quantity to serve an entire party.

"You *hic* said it, Tommy~" Tamara mused in return, leaning her head on his shoulder and miraculously finishing off their precious Smirnoff. Some managed to drip down her sharp chin, causing 'Tommy' to snort with laughter and use his sleeve to clean up her mess, earning a smirk from her.

* * *
( 🔞. )

"Y'know, it might just be because my *hic* vision's too blurry to actually see your ugly-ass *hic* face, but holy shit — you're so hot," the female cooed, chestnut follicles covering one of her two soulless voids.

Prior to releasing a hiccup of his own from the booze, Tom simply snickered and brushed her bangs aside, taking a good long look at his counterpart's suddenly sexy features. His calluses-coated palm rested against her soft cheek, practically feeling the reddened warmth from, of course, the street-corner alcohol. "Yeah? I always thought you were hot, and I don't need a helluva ton of *hic* booze to admit it, bitch."

Without another word being spoken, Tom claimed the other side of her face in his other hand, only to yank her forward and practically smash his lips against hers. She corresponded almost immediately as her own pair of hands clutched onto his blue hoodie almost desperately, a pleased groan trickling from her throat.

Both their craniums tilted opposite directions as the kiss was deepened and became significantly rougher, tasting the leftover Smirnoff in each other's caverns like their lives depended on it. Minds completely clouded with lust in courtesy of their extreme drunken states, Tamara shoved Tom backwards and climbed on top of him, straddling the obvious bulge in his jeans while he gripped onto her ponytail and gave it a forceful yank.

Soon enough, an identical pair of blue hoodies were piled just meters away from the wasted lookalikes, leaving their bare skin to be chilled by the night's February breeze, though their 'heat' kept them—well—heated. The sounds of the city were all that stood a chance against Tamara's moans and Tom's groans, hands groping perky breasts as a kneecap was propped in-between two muscular thighs — specifically on top of a tent that was just begging to be released from the custody of blue jeans.

"Who's the bitch now?", teased the female bass player, adding more pressure onto his lower region. Tom, in turn, hissed as air was sucked in through his gritted canines, until a sinister grin was delivered up towards her. "You in about twenty seconds, sweetheart," he retaliated, using his thumb and index digit to give one of her buds a harsh pinch, causing an excessive wave of vulnerability to fill Tamara.

Tom immediately took the opportunity to flip her onto her back, hovering over her with fiery orbs and a straining erection. Slipping a hand under the waistline of her jeans, he teasingly traced the lace of her thong before using his free hand to flip her off as a sneak preview to his next move . . only to quickly shove his other middle extremity inside of her, earning a yelp from the woman below him. Tom displayed the most cocky smirk on his countenance while soaking in her submission like an aroused sponge, satisfaction sprawled beyond its boundaries.

* * *

One digit turned into two . . then three . . then even four. Technically, his entire hand was in full use as his thumb rubbed rapidly at her folds, being the cherry on top of Tamara's 'just fuck me already, you asshole' sundae.

* * *

And before they knew it . . . an exhausted Tom slowly retracted himself from his equally-exhausted doppelgänger, the fragrance of sexual intimacy surrounding them as their attire was slowly put back on. Sweat beaded their foreheads as a series of heavy panting left their grins. Tom easily stood back up on his own two feet, yet Tamara's legs wobbled like mad, needing the assistance of the man of whom stole her virginity with consent. She was picked up bridal-style, earning a scoff and a roll of her dark voids while using her sleeve to rid a white substance from both her abdomen and cheek.

"Fuck you," she murmured, starting to sober up as embarrassment washed through the ruby complexion of her cheeks, though there was no denying the smug grin that remained plastered. Tom simply chuckled in response . . rather darkly, on that note; before responding with the following.

"I just did."