Smoke and Mirrors

Episode Two: One Shot, Two Shot, Red Door, Blue Door

There was the largest sigh of relief that left Liam’s lips when Leone finally let up, revealing that there was indeed a joke behind that insinuation. So he wasn’t a complete idiot then. Thank god. Pulling his hand back from his hair to rub at his temple, he couldn’t help but allow a short breath of a laugh from himself as well, finding the other’s own humor far too contagious despite the fact it originated from his own misfortune. Not at all offended by the loss of his drink, the guitarist’s shoulders went up in a rough shrug, an explanation on the tip of his tongue as he tried his best to level his companion with an unamused look. Though the attempt turned out to be completely useless as he couldn’t keep the smile from his expression. The explanation still managed to fall short though, as Leone chose to let himself be heard once again; voicing a fair bit of information that had his expression melting into one they had just evolved from. “Wait, ‘old on, that’s not..- You’re sayin’.. Cara ‘n I didn’t do nothin’ but.. we did?” Once again speaking as if he could put a hold on the world in general, Liam’s hands dropped from his forehead, raising a single one to point between the pair of them with a raised brow to further explain his words. Because suddenly that joke about him and Cara wasn’t the joke it was supposed to be anymore, but more so one that detailed something different entirely. Something so different. Because now it wasn’t ‘haha, you didn’t have sex with her, silly.’ but ‘haha, you didn’t have sex with her, silly’, and now it seemed like his headache couldn’t get any worse. “Were we..- I mean, did we…” Once again resorting to confused sputtering, rather than actual sentences, Liam’s brows furrowed deeply in concern, eyeing Leone carefully. A million different thoughts ran through his mind, causing his expression only to deepen as he fought not to apologize right in that second. “…You’re not jokin’?”

Not bothering to hide his chuckles this time, Leo impatiently prompted him to make his slow connections with a few unhelpful rotations of his hand. Oh this was priceless, he thought, watching as Liam fell for the same prank a second time around. “Did we...?” he echoed, waiting to see if sweet, innocent Liam could muster the courage to utter the word sex out loud. “Joking that you woke up on me? Or joking that we slept together?” he questioned, still snickering slightly as he watched Liam’s confusion and regret continue to deepen. “Because that’s all the honest truth.” Technically.

Handing back the water bottle to the man who actually needed it, Leo let the uncertainty linger a little longer as he leaned back to rest against his palms. Eventually relenting in his torture, he turned back to the guitarist as if suddenly realizing the meaning of their conversation. “Oooh, you’re wondering if we slept together. As in sex?” he asked, laughing off the suggestion entirely. ‘Naw, of course not. You were way too drunk to get it up, don’t worry.”

Episode Two: One Shot, Two Shot, Red Door, Blue Door

Cringing into his arms at the once again incorrect name, Liam released a huff of a breath that quickly turned into an indignant grunt as he felt the gentle shove to his side. Turning his head in an effort to see just what Leone was offering, Liam eyed the bottle critically for a moment before lazily untangling his arm to accept the actually useful substance. Unless of course it was really just vodka - because after all, that wasn’t whiskey, now was it? Shifting so that the man was sitting up with a slightly less pathetic posture, Liam slowly uncapped the bottle, taking a few small sips in an attempt to rid his mouth of the foul taste of what he’d just call regret for now. “Thanks, mate.”

His brows had merely furrowed as Leone tried to explain some downside to his late awakening, a thing Liam only found himself grateful for with another much larger sip of water. That is however, until that water was suddenly caught in his throat as some unexpected words reached his ears. “Excuse me.. - What?” He coughed, bringing a hand back to his mouth as his eyes immediately settled upon Leo’s with such underlying concern. Because what? “You’re absolutely full of shit!” He argued, though the evident lack of accusation in his tone suggested Liam wasn’t confident about that fact. Not in the slightest. “She d-.. We didn’t-” Chopped sentences fell from his lips as his brows furrowed even further in contemplation, a serious attempt to question if such a thing had actually occurred - god he hoped not. Watching Leone closely, Liam bit the inside of his cheek, moving his hand in one smooth gesture to sprinkle a generous coating of water upon the younger man with the still uncapped bottle in his possession. “Fuckin’ prat, best be ‘avin’ a laugh, or I swear down…” He muttered, running his free hand through his hair once again, as yet another wave of regret ran through him. Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot.

#c: liam #it's just too easy

Messina kept an innocent expression--something that never looked quite right on his features--through each of Liam’s questions, quietly enjoying the look of horror on his face. “Hey Pace, that’s between you, Cara, and the left side of the bridge,” he replied with a shrug. However, when Liam decided to toss his generous gift back on him, Leo finally cracked up laughing, letting up the ruse fairly quickly. “Of course I’m laughing. Should have seen your fucking face,” he countered, still chuckling at he wiped the water out of his eyes. “Can’t believe you thought you had sex with Cara,” he continued, stealing the bottle back to take a sip himself. And to ensure the whole thing wasn’t dumped on his head in second. “I mean seriously, how do you mix up Cara with me. For Christ’s sake you woke up on me, English.”

Episode Two: One Shot, Two Shot, Red Door, Blue Door

Wincing at the greeting that would have been so much more appreciated had it not been one he chose to use today, Liam wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, sparing Leone from the withering look he currently possessed by keeping his sights locked with the ground. Though just barely - because really, of all days to wake up so cheerfully? Then again, maybe there was a correlation. “M’name’s not William.” He countered quietly, all but ignoring the man’s question for the moment in favor of turning back around to seat himself in front of the slab of concrete. With his knees drawn to his chest, the guitarist simply crossed his arms over his legs and buried his head into his lap with a muttered statement that was probably just as unintelligible as the ones from the night before. Though in Liam’s defense, it only took a few minutes for him to clarify, uttering a muffled “No thank you.” through his arms in a very late response to his friend’s offer. After all, he had just barely started to get a grasp on the kinds of helpful ‘tools’ Leone always had to offer, and knew better than to ask for something.

Leo had to feel some sense of pity for the man since he could empathize with him for once. Not to mention, Liam had a knack for looking truly pitiful when he was upset in a way which demanded some compassion. So grabbing the bottle which actually had water in it, the troublemaker made his way over to the sad lump that was his friend and sat next to him. “Aw come on, Will, you earned it,” he replied, quieter this time as he gave him a light nudge in the side. “And I really think you could use something to take the edge off,” he continued, offering the bottle out with a necessary declaimer. “It’s not whiskey, I promise.”

“It’s a shame you slept in so late though,” he mentioned casually, observing their little abode as if to look for evidence of their night. A night which Liam clearly didn’t remember very well. “You missed Cara,” he continued, “She wanted to wait up for you. No clue why. Say good morning or compliment you on the sex, who knows, but she said she’ll be around La Porta Rosa again tonight. If you’re still interested.” And then Leo just waited, trying his best not to smile at his own joke.

Episode Two: One Shot, Two Shot, Red Door, Blue Door

It wasn’t as if hangovers were completely foreign to Liam, after all, with how little alcohol it actually takes to get the man drunk, a mild hangover here and there is to be expected. One of such intensity however, now that was something the Brit was completely unfamiliar with, and it only took about a second of being even slightly awake to realize why that had been such a blessing before. For one - he was sore. Like, just ran an entire marathon, fell down a mountain; landed in a cactus, and got bashed in the head kind of sore. Secondly, it was way too hot for a blanket. Swinging his arm out with an audible groan of complaint, Liam swatted the much too heavy blanket from his body, before using the same arm to further bury his head into the thing he happened to be laying on that morning.

… —or person rather. Reluctantly cracking his eyes open, the guitarist pulled his head from his hands to take a glance at the human pillow below him. Furrowing his brow with a wince, the Brit tried and failed multiple times to come up with an explanation as to why he was sleeping on top of his friend, only getting one spot of information in return; headache. Terrible, terrible, headache. Well that wasn’t helpful. Without a word to his companion, Liam gently shoved himself off of Messina, choosing to walk a fair distance over to the small corner under the bridge where no one ever really went; if only because that ever so glorious nauseating feeling was coming back with every second he was awake, and that corner looked like a lovely place for a good morning puke if that’s what it came down to. Sitting himself against a loose block of concrete, the Brit rubbed his hand along his temple, attempting to wave off his headache, but the man was quick to retract his movements with a small hiss, finally noticing the rough scrapes coating his palms. Christ. See, this was why he didn’t do shots, Liam quickly determined, still trying to piece together whatever destruction occurred the night before. There was the Italian’s insistence on taking him out for his birthday, Renzo, Mess– Wait, Leone, his first name’s Leone, being introduced to Cara - Oh god, Cara. That had been—

Lurching to the side, Liam supported himself with a hand against the wall as he finally lost his ongoing battle with nausea, emptying what little contents of his stomach he had onto the dirt covered ground. An attempt to swallow back the foul tasting bile simply did more harm than good as another round forced itself from the Brit’s body, leaving the squatting man to groan at his actions as he swiped his free hand through his hair dejectedly.

Trust me, it’ll be fun. Like he said; those were always some famous last words…

For once, Leone didn’t wake up with a hangover, no doubt the result of his new child-rearing responsibilities. Instead, he awoke to a very clear, and all too amusing image of Liam’s disgruntles features, watching as the reality of his morning regrets dawned on him. Letting him maintain the slim dignity of a private morning puke, Leo lazily pulled himself up to a sitting position, cracking his back as he tried not to laugh at his poor friend’s misery. After a short moment of silence, Mess finally called over an all too cheerful greeting. “Buongiorno William!” Balling up the blanket which Liam had been so intent to rid himself of, he checked his pockets to see what he had on him. “Need something to take the edge off?”

Episode Two: One Shot, Two Shot, Red Door, Blue Door

“’m goin’, ‘m goin’,” The sleepy assurances were muttered lowly as time and time again the guitarist failed to go just about anywhere, more just caught in a slight limbo of steps in both directions. Truly, Liam was trying his damnedest to help his companion help him, but his body was having none of it, especially when mind over matter just ended up being nothing more than the blind leading the blind. So when even the most enticing of offers brought forth only more incoherent assurances and pathetic stumbles, it appeared that Leone simply took matters into his own hands. Quite literally, as well.

If the recently turned thirty year old man had any qualms about being so easily hefted into the arms of his eighteen year old companion, he certainly didn’t show it. Instead rather, another drawn out whine was the only complaint to the quick movements before Liam settled just as comfortably in the man’s arms as he had against his side. The Brit’s head was quick to fall against Leone’s shoulder as his hands stayed deadlocked in the grip the younger man had thrown them in around his neck. With fingers still tightly woven between loose fabric, it seemed the grip the man had wasn’t one that would soon be relinquished, despite the fact the guitarist held way too much faith in the fact Leone wouldn’t be dropping him anytime soon.

Thankfully finding the natural rhythm of Leone’s walking more soothing than nauseating, it didn’t take long for Liam to slip back into his mostly unconscious state from before, unaware of anything anyone around him might be saying or doing; with the only thing resonating in his mind being the gentle sway that accompanied the man’s footsteps. That is, however, until another particularly different shift had him tightening his grip around the man’s neck once more as he felt his body re-positioning in a way he wasn’t sure he wanted to go. A grip that might’ve given way in another few minutes when Liam finally slipped fully into sleep.

Grateful that Liam was apparently more tired than nauseous, Leo still couldn’t resist poking fun at the man’s rather pitiful state in his arms. “That was two shots, you know that right?” he asked, realizing that any question would be a rhetorical one at this point. “And don’t even give me shit about the beer, I drank most of that for you,” he continued, careful of his footing as the ground sloped down towards the riverbank. He gave Matteo a short nod of acknowledgement as his thanks before moving to drop Liam off in his usual spot, now marked by a layer of old clothes and a thin blanket. This, however, was far less simple than he expected.

“Liam...Liam, I’m putting you down,” he explained, finding the guitarist’s grip had tightened rather than loosened when he tried to put the 30-year-old-going-on-3 to bed. “Liam.” The name was a sigh of defeat as the drunk mess redirected all his efforts into staying glued to Leo’s shoulder with an impressive last gasp of energy. Matteo offered a short snort of laughter which did nothing to help the situation, and once again Leone found himself caving to the ridiculous situation. Fuck it. “You know what Liam, we should make a bet,” he suggested as he tried to maneuver himself into a sitting position with Liam still hanging off of him. “See, I bet you’re already asleep,” he began, grabbing an old pair of jeans with his one free hand to toss behind his head. “And if I’m right, then you can’t complain about my bony ass shoulders in the morning,” he determined, noting how Liam had curled up against him in a position which surely couldn’t be comfortable. “Deal?” If the musician acknowledged the gamble in any way, it was not apparent as Leo tugged the blanket loosely over them. “Two fucking shots.” And that was as appropriate a goodnight as any.