A Little Drunk
Summary: A mission gone wrong and too many shots can lead to unfortunate – but unregrettable – situations Warnings: swearing, not really smut, unrealistically cute fluff A/N: Extension of this drabble – also, apologies to my mobile followers, I still haven’t found way to fix the loss of dividers
Voices buzzed dully around you. Blurry sentences faded in and out of focus. Images from the night flashed behind your eyes. A gentle hand on your knee sent adrenaline through your system and the room snapped into focus. The hand tightened softly before disappearing. Electronic files covered the screen at the front of the room. Merlin stood at the head of the table, still talking, but you didn’t hear his voice as you read the last line of the newly closed case.
Female D.O.A.
“…not the ending we expected, or wanted.” Merlin paused, sighing and leaning forward, the palms of his hands pressed against the table. The screen behind him darkened. He took the folder in front of him off the table and tucked it inside his briefcase. “Go on,” he nodded toward the door behind you. “Get out of here you three. I’ll see you all Monday.”
Roxy stood up without hesitation, leaving her open notebook on the table. The room began to fade from your focus again before the same hand rested on your shoulder. “Come on, (Y/n),” Eggsy said, a weak smile on his face when your eyes met his. “It’s time to go.” He took hold of your elbow and pulled you from your chair.
Shaking your head in an attempt to clear it, you followed your partners from the room and into the hall. “Rox!” Eggsy called out, taking a few steps ahead of you. Roxy turned to face you when she heard his voice, leaning against the wall to wait until you both reached her. “Up for a drink? I think all of us could one.”
“Not tonight, Eggsy,” she said, shaking her head softly. “I’ve got a bottle of whiskey and an old film waiting for me at my flat.” She turned before she finished, walking away before he could beg her into coming anyway.
“Just us then,” Eggsy said, winking at you before he began to walk again.
You laughed dismissively, but followed a few paces behind him.“Rox’s quiet night doesn’t sound like such a terrible idea to me,” you argued, hoping he would give up before he started – you both knew it wouldn’t take much to convince you, even if all you felt like doing was wallowing at home.
“Come on, (Y/n). Please? There’s a pub by my place. We’ll start with drinks and if you still want a quiet night it’s not a long walk to my flat.” Eggsy had taken hold of your wrists as he spoke, walking backwards and pulling you out of the building. “Anyway, I don’t want you to be alone.” He tacked the words onto his argument in a whisper, and you weren’t sure if you were even meant to hear, but concern laced his voice and your resolve crumbled.
His eyes pleaded with you and you pressed your lips together, pretending to think for a moment longer. “You’re paying for the cab.”
The vodka burned its way down your throat and you set the shot glass back on the bar. “This was a good idea, Eggs,” you said, setting your hand on his shoulder. “Gettin’ drunk was a good idea.”
“You alright, love?” he asked, laughing as you leaned against him. He had taken the first few shots with you, but had always prefered whiskey to vodka. Your head fell onto his shoulder and his hand found your knee.
Sitting up as suddenly as you leaned against him, you set your head in your hands and your elbows on the bar. “Absolutely fantastic,” you answered him firmly, and the warmth of his fingers disappeared. “I’m out drinking with you! What could be better?”
“A quiet night a bottle of whiskey?” he teased, and you rolled your eyes, hitting his shoulder.
“Don’t like quiet nights, but a bottle of whiskey doesn’t sound too bad. Go get it for me?” You bit your lip when you asked, batting your eyelashes at him.
“What’ll you give me?” he asked, leaning forward and raising his eyebrows.
“My eternal and undying love, Eggsy,” you said, managing to keep your face straight as you spoke. “If it’s really good whiskey, maybe you’ll get lucky,” you teased, dissolving into giggles. He shook his head at you, drunk enough that his usual quick retort was lost amid the haze, and stood up.
Eggsy set his hand on your knee and squeezed gently, winking before walking away and toward the man at the other end of the bar. A flash caught your attention and you glanced down at your phone, quickly replying to the message from Roxy. With Eggsy gone, you continued to focus on your phone, scrolling through the meaningless trivia that filled the Kingsmen files.
“What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” a voice asked.
You didn’t look up from your phone to acknowledge whoever had spoken. “Wondering what a man like you is doing using such a pathetic line.”
“Trying to pick up the prettiest girl I’ve seen in days.”
Taking a calming breath, you locked your phone and reluctantly looked at the man. He wasn’t much older than you. His jacket was too big and his pants too small. A golden beer sat on the bar beside him. “Flattered, but no.” Your eyes scanned the pub in search of Eggsy, unable to find the physical or mental energy to fend off the man in front of you.
“How can you say no when you haven’t even give me a chance?” he asked, and you closed your eyes, the alcohol buzzing through your system leaving you with little patience.
“Because a girl like me isn’t in a place like this looking for a guy like you.”
You heard him step closer to you, but didn’t flinch or move away. Eggsy would be back soon. He had a habit of saving you. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
A familiar gentle hand rested on your shoulder and you smiled, relaxing into the touch and opening your eyes again. “You deaf, bruv? It means she’s not interested.”
“Mind your own business, mate,” the man snarled, eyes narrowing. You felt Eggsy’s fingers tense on your shoulder.
He trailed his hand down your spine until it rested against the small of your back and stepped close enough that his chest pressed to your back. “She is my business and she’s not interested, mate.” You leaned back into Eggsy and his hand trailed up your back and rested against your neck, fingers playing gently with your hair.
The man didn’t move.
“Babe? Let’s find a table?” You looked up at Eggsy.
“Yeah,” he tore his eyes slowly from the man and met yours. “Have Maggie bring our drinks?” The man behind the bar nodded at the question directed at him. He wrapped his arm around your waist when you stood up, tucking you into his side while your hand rested against his chest. Eggsy led you to a booth near the door, waiting for you to sit near the wall before he sat down beside you.
“Surprised you didn’t break his nose,” Eggsy almost laughed as he broke the silence.
“I knew you were coming back, Eggs – figured waiting was better than getting you barred from your favorite pub,” you said with a shrug and Eggsy shook his head. A young woman with red hair set two drinks on the table in front of you.
“Here I was assuming you’d found yourself a replacement.” He didn't smile, but dim teasing still lit up his eyes as he took a slow sip of the drink on the table.
“Replace you? Why would I want to do that?” You set your hand on his arm as you mocked him. He was warmer than you remembered. “Anyway, Merlin would have my arse if I got rid of you. He’s grown a bit attached.”
Eggsy laughed, his eyes finally lighting up. “If anyone could get away with it, it’d be you. You always were his favorite.” Your hand was still on his arm and he rested his own on your knee. “I’m pretty sure you’re Roxy’s favorite too.”
Heat had spread throughout your body when his hand had rested against your knee and there was enough liquor clouding your thoughts to loosen your tongue. His hand slid up your thigh. “And you?” You didn’t look away as you asked. Your hand trailed up to his bicep.
“Love, you know you’re my favorite.” He was speaking quietly. You rested your other hand on the bench beside his leg.
“I really thought it was Merlin.” You nodded as you spoke. Humor sparked behind his eyes. Fire spread through you as his free hand came to your waist.
“Nah, you’re more my type.” His nose bumped yours when he spoke. You tilted your head in questioning.
“Isn’t your type blonde and disposable?” Your fingers brushed against his jeans before moving onto his leg.
“My type is you.”
He tasted bitter when he kissed you, like the beer he’d been drinking. Your hand tightened on his arm. His kiss was insistent and urgent. A quiet voice in the back of your mind reminded you what a horrible idea this was, but the alcohol and his hand still sliding up your thigh drowned it out.
His hand moved up your waist, pulling your shirt with it, and his fingers brushed against your skin, sending shivers through you. With that small touch, his fingers flexed against you before sliding beneath your shirt. He traced past your hip, and you turned toward him, struggling to get closer past the table. Your heart was erratic when he pulled away, beginning to trail his lips down your jaw and toward your neck. You managed to breath his name, struggling to focus.
You trailed your hands up his chest slowly, surprised to feel him shiver beneath your touch. The hand beneath your shirt pressed higher and your breath caught. “Eggsy,” you whispered, moving your hands to his cheeks. He hummed in acknowledgement, but instead pressed his lips back against yours, dragging your bottom lips between his teeth. Reluctantly pulling away, you pressed against his shoulder, pushing him toward the edge of the booth you were sitting in.
Quick to understand, he took your hand, tugging you out of the booth. Digging through his pocket, he tossed money onto the table as he lead you through the pub and toward the door. “Ta, Mags,” he mumbled, not waiting for her to respond as he desperately dragged you outside. The cold air woke you as much as his hands had, and you breathed in the smell of London.
Eggsy pulled you down the street, and you stumbled, your laughter bouncing through the small alley. He turned at the sound, backing you against a wall and grabbing your waist as he hovered his lips over yours. You tilted your head to kiss him and he pulled your hips closer to him in response. His hand tangled in your hair, keeping your head away from the brick as he forced the rest of you against it.
His name fell from your lips in a quiet plea. Forcing yourself to focus, you traced your hands down his sides and slid your hand into his back pocket to grab hold of his keys. He reached after you as you pulled away, shaking his head and laughing as you dangled his keys in front of him. “I thought your flat wasn't a long walk?”
“First time it’s ever been too long.” He reached out for your waist, but you danced away from his him, tossing him his keys before walking toward his flat.
Quiet thunder pulled you from sleep, the once terrifying sound now familiar and relaxing. It was always raining in London. Despite the clouds, it was bright enough outside to light the room through the thin fabric curtains. You opened your eyes slowly, content to lie in bed until you were forced out of it. Confusion leaked into your thoughts. There wasn't a fan on your ceiling.
Carefully sitting up in bed, your head pounding, you glanced around the room you recognized. You had bought the antique chair for his birthday; you were in the only picture framed on his wall. Your mind stuttered to a half as your eyes landed on the naked body beside you.
Shit.
Holding your breath, you crawled cautiously from your closest friend's bed, desperate not to wake him. You underwear hung over the back of his chair, your pants lay in a pile at the foot of his bed, and your shirt was nowhere in sight. His breathing deepened and he rolled across the bed. Panic setting in, you frantically grabbed a random shirt from his closed and hurried silently from his room.
Sound of moving came from his room and your heart raced. You pulled his old football jersey over your head, hastily maneuvering around the couch you had helped move into his apartment and through the kitchen you had helped organize. The door to his room creaked open and you slipped out into the London air, barely aware of the rain that soon soaked through the borrowed shirt.
Knocking echoed through your small apartment and dread seeped into your bones. You closed your eyes and took a steadying breath, knowing it was him without opening the door. Longing to postpone the inevitable confrontation as long as you could, you took small and deliberate steps across the room. He stood in your doorway in an old button up and jeans, his hair disheveled and wet. Heat unwillingly filled your cheeks as his eyes met yours and the image of him sleeping naked as you snuck away flashed through your mind. "Forget your umbrella, Eggsy?"
"Tell me you need me."
"What?" you stammered, your feet moving you away from him without your mind's consent. He followed you out of the rain, closing the door behind him.
"Tell me you need me," he repeated, "like you told me last night."
The fan on his ceiling spun in lazy, steady circles. Rain against the roof lulled you closer to sleep. His fingers traced nonsense patterns against your bare hip. He placed a sloppy kiss against your shoulder. "You're fucking beautiful, d'you know that?"
There was enough vodka left in your system to still haze your mind and you giggled, burying your face against his side. "You're one to talk."
His chest shook as he laughed silently, kissing the nearest skin he could reach. Eggsy sighed in contentment, grabbing hold of your waist and rolling you on top of him. He pressed his lips languidly against yours and you melted into him. "I need you," you said when he pulled away from the kiss, the alcohol finally pulling your eyes closed. He was so warm.
"You need me?" he asked, the humor in his voice easy to hear. "Why is that?"
Resting your cheek against his shoulder, you struggled to stay awake long enough to answer his question. "You make me happy, Eggsy. I need you because I love you," you mumbled, too tired to be sure you'd even managed to speak the words out loud.
"I need you, Eggsy."
"Fucking finally." His hands cupped your cheeks and your back met the wall , his lips desperate and needy as they found yours. You leaned into him, and he lifted you off your feet.
“I need you, Eggsy.”
He tugged haphazardly at the shirt tucked into your leggings – his shirt. Eggsy stumbled through your your apartment with you in his arms, careful to avoid the table he'd helped carry inside.
“I need you, Eggsy.”