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tinmunky · 2 years

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About Last Night

Found on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086437/chapters/2185605

No Galaxy for Old Men Series - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

Characters & Pairings: Zaeed Massani/Fem!Shep, James Vega (if you squint), Aria T’Loak, Grizz

Summary: Shepard has some unhealthy coping mechanisms and the next morning leaves some surprising results.

Rating: Mature for violence, language and innuendo - 4,183 words

Tags: Sexual tension, drinking problems, friendship, banter, canon typical violence

Audio Parings: The Black Keys - Howlin’ For You

Commander Shepard needed a fucking drink and every bill comes due.

Chapter One - One Night on Omega

It had been three weeks since Horizon and Shepard’s mood had steadily darkened only to reach a crescendo of absolute rage when Kaidan had the nerve to write that joke of a non-apology letter. She had fucking died for god’s sake. A Letter! Everyone else seemed to be able to find her vid com if they wanted something, yet he couldn’t even apologize properly. God. Damned. Asshole.

Shepard was pretty sure this was some sort of galactic joke. How many plot twists could a girl take before cracking. Apparently three. Death, Cerberus and one betrayal. On a purely rational level, she got it. It had been two years for him, and two months for her. Everything was still pretty raw for her and he had calloused over.

Garrus was on eggshells, Chakwas hadn’t left the infirmary since Horizon and Joker was using his high pitched “everything’s fine” voice. He was probably terrified that the massive rage brewing in Shepard’s biotics were going to short the inertial dampeners or some equally ridiculous sciencey bit. The only person who seemed unfazed was Massani.

It was shortly after Horizon Joker started hounding Shepard to put in at the maintenance dock on Omega for “routine maintenance,” Shepard had heard “unstoppable paranoia”, narrowed her eyes and decided to forge on. Joker wasn’t exactly good at subterfuge. Though, after Joker’s 50th request and that piece of shit Alenko’s letter, she had relented. Omega might be exactly what she needed after the whole Alenko debacle.

So, here she was, waiting for the airlock of the Normandy to release her onto Omega so she could do some nice, healthy damage to her liver. Work out some of that aggression and get back on track to saving a galaxy that didn’t give a shit that it was in danger.

This was probably the only place in known space that could handle her mood right now. The deep thrum of the ship eased as the last dock clamp clanged into place and the main engines powered down to reserve levels. The airlock eased upwards and the atmospheres met in a hiss of vapor as Shepard took her first step out the door and towards a big ass drink.

_____

“Commander Shepard.” A voice as sweet as a babbling brook and about as deep slashed into her little storm cloud. Shepard took a breath, her eyes fluttering closed in exasperation, and counted to ten before turning.

“Yeoman Chambers.” She hoped she put enough disdain into the title to head any friendliness off at the pass. Joker may not trust EDI, and Miranda and Jacob seemed like the obvious loyalists, but the real spy threat came from Chambers as far as Shepard was concerned. A Cerberus lackey through and through, she had drunk the Kool-Aid to the last drop. Chambers had dossiers on all crew members, knew their dirty little psych profile secrets and Shepard would bet dollars to donuts, reported everything down to the last deuce to The Illusive Man. She was not a fan.

“Commander Shepard, are you going ashore?” Chambers tapped at her data pad. Shepard looked at her dumbfounded. Looked at her armored feet on the dock. Looked back at Chambers still in the lock.

“Well Chambers. It appears that I am outside of the ship. And I am on shore. So suffice to say, yes. Yes, I am going ashore.”

“Cerberus regulations state that any shore party must consist of a commanding officer and two squad members! This really is against policy.” Chambers huffed.

If Shep wasn’t already at the homicidal rage point of her day, she probably would have laughed.

“Chambers” She spoke slowly “Do I look like I give a shit about Cerberus regulations and/or policy?” Folding her arms across her armored chest. The polycarbonate clicking against each other as a satisfying bookend to her crisp tone.

Chambers looked Shepard up and down. At 6ft tall, face scarred and armed to the teeth, she didn’t look like she gave a shit about much, other than her own objectives.

“Well, no. No I suppose you don’t.” Chambers’ brow furrowed and then quickly cleared. “Shall I inform XO Lawson of your absence?”

“You can inform Ms. Lawson of any goddamn thing you please Chambers. I am going to the bar.”

_____

Shepard climbed the stairs to Afterlife a woman on a mission. She strode straight through the door, passing the Elcor bodyguard without stopping. An outraged snarl made it above the ambient din.

“What the fuck! She wasn’t even in line!”

“With barely contained disdain, she is on the list. You are not.”

Shepard never slowed her pace until she pulled up to the bar and hailed a passing Salarian bartender.

“Commander Shepard! Shall I make Ms. T’Loak aware of your arrival.” Solicitous as only Salarians can be.

“No need to bother her majesty, I’m here for a drink only.”

Afterlife had the charm of that special circle of hell that religion threatened you with if you had too much fun in life. The pulsing music, the beautiful creatures that moved across the dance floor, the high potential for bloodshed. All pleasant distractions for her simmering anger. She had been here many times on business. Most of the upper management knew her on sight. The rest, by reputation. Shepard had paid homage early on with Aria T’Loak. Trading information, doing favors, taking Massani off her base. With a bit of tit for tat, Aria forged a grudging respect for Shepard, offering her an open door, but not an open tab.

“Oh uh, well then. What will you be having?” he folded his hands happily.

“Do you happen to have anything from Earth?” Shepard sat down for the long haul.

“As a matter of fact... ah yes! I have a lovely bottle of, what I am told, is a human delicacy.” The Salarian placed a square edged green bottle in front of Shepard.

“Ugh, licorice schnapps? Really? It tastes horrible.”

“The Krogan seem to like it.” The Salarian shrugged.

“Whiskey. I’ll just take whiskey. If you have it.”

“Thessian or Sol distilleries? I have a Canadian brand…” The Salarian chortled happily as he bustled under the bar for a glass.

“No, no! No Canadian.” Shepard waved her hands frantically.

________

Aria commanded quite the view from her loft. Nothing of interest passed unnoticed from the comfort of her couch. She knew she would see Shepard in her dominion the second she had heard that the Normandy had entered Omega space. Her network had informed her that Shepard had some Alliance trouble on Horizon and had expected her to slink in sooner this being one of the few places Shepard would be safe from Alliance and Council reach. The Commander was becoming quite the regular and Aria found each visit more intriguing than the last. She ventured she actually was beginning to like the human. Shepard had cured the plague in the lower levels and relieved Aria of a particularly irritating vigilante and another rather expensive mercenary. Shepard was a heavy hitter, and a wild card. Too noble by far, but her gray area was unpredictable. One minute a paragon of virtue and the next leaving a trail of bodies. She was never boring.

So when Shepard turned up on Omega’s doorstep in the wake of, if the gossip could be trusted, a lover’s quarrel, Aria expected at least some cheap entertainment. What she got was a mopey Cerberus agent dead set on getting shit faced. If the Commander yacked on the bar, it would cost her. Aria had sighed in disappointment and went back to regular business.

________

The Patriach had already come and lumbered off, polishing off that nasty piece of work in a green square bottle. Old Krogan couldn’t hold his liquor.

“Hey Teddy!” Shepard half climbed over the bar flagging down the passing bartender.

“I’m out of scotch, please don’t kill me.” The Salarian weaseled up to his side of her bar with a wince and a groan.

“I only killed that last guy ‘cause he tried to poison me.” Shepard scoffed, offended “Now Teddy,”

“Tedelonis…”

“Yeah, yeah, Teddy.” Shepard leaned against the bar and peered into her empty glass. “I need something a bit stronger. These implants make it a bear to get a buzz nowadays.”

“That so,” he tapped his nonexistent lips in contemplation, “You ever have alcohol from Kahje ma’am?”

Her ears perked up. She had come to Omega to see the sights, smell the horrible Omega smells, and drink the good stuff.

“Now you’re talking my language Teddy.” Barked out a laugh as she felt someone take the seat at the bar next to her. She spins her empty glass, sliding half a look to her left. Tall, human, dark hair and honeyed skin. He’s out of place here. She pointedly ignores him.

“‘Evening ma’am. What brings an Alliance officer like you to a shit hole like Omega?” He asks with a confidence left only to the stupid and young.

Shepard slides the rest of her look his way as she shifts in her chair. Taking in the whole picture of the man so lacking in self preservation that he’d take the empty seat next to her. Handsome and practically a baby for all his bulking muscles and crisp ink. He was at least 10 years her junior, dark hair shorn tight to his head. Alliance jarhead right out of the mold. Too green to be sent here hunting her. Maybe a chance encounter? She smiles all teeth and bad intentions.

“Lemme buy you a drink kid, and don’t ever call me ma’am again. Two Kahje specials Teddy.”

The Salarian groaned again. Handing over the verdant liquid. A evil glint in his massive eyes. “Good luck, Commander.”

The jarhead next her snorted into his glass. Clearly picking up what the turd behind the counter was putting down. She shot Tedelonis a withering glare. He was getting a bit big for his Salarian britches.

“Remember what I did to the last guy that poisoned me Teddy.”

The Alliance kid didn’t seem to notice her thinly veiled threat and plowed forward.

“We tend to know our own don’t we.” He sipped and winced. “We get that ‘been out a space a while’ look and no matter where you are or what you do, you’re Alliance ‘till you die.” He smiled like he shared her secret.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but she felt like her heart finished breaking. She did NOT want to be seen right now, but he knew. Maybe not her, or her circumstance, but he knew what it was like to be cast adrift. To be dropped.

“Huh.” She huffs into her glass “ Annoyingly astute. I’m just going to have to work on my covert abilities then. You got a name marine?” She poked.

James picked up his glass with a slow spreading smile.

“James. You got a name Commander?” He poked back apparently. At least he wasn’t a chickenshit like others she could name.

“Nice to meet you Jimmy.” Shepard sipped her drink, eyeing him across the lip of the glass and licked her lips. Jesus, they were already going numb. Apparently she had just hit the drinking big leagues. For the first time since her resurrection she might actually be able to dull the edge of whatever the fuck this was.

“Logan.” What possessed her to give her given name she would never know.

“Pretty name.” He smiled.

“Bad pickup line.” She frowned.

“Am I that obvious?”

“I’m that good at reading people.” She set her drink down with a click and looked him up and down. “Listen Jimmy, physique like that shouldn’t have too much of a problem finding a date in a place like this. You may be rusty on your one liners, but I’m definitely not the girl you should be talking to here. ”

“How you figure that?” He asked.

”Because, I figure you know who I am, and what I can do, and what I’m about.” Shepard stood, omni tool at the ready to shoot Teddy her tab and beat feet to an even seedier bar if she could find one. This one was too friendly.

“How about this,” James sighed. “I’ll pretend I don’t know who you are, and you pretend that you’re a normal person having a normal conversation keeping me out of trouble while I wait for the private transport I hitched a ride on to make repairs. Humor me, and if I can make you laugh, you’ll let me buy the savior of the Citadel a drink.”

“You’re asking a lot here kid.” Shepard warned. “I was in a right fucking mood when you came up.”

”Challenge accepted.

_______

After a couple of hours of her sad sack drinking, Aria ceased to check on Shepard herself. She had delegated Grizz to update her of any change in Shepard’s activities and went about her usual business.

“Hey boss. Uh, your pet human is talking to another human. Thought that would qualify as a change.” Grizz leaned in to whisper.

“What are they doing Grizz?” Aria sifted through entries on her data pad.

“Uh, well it looks like talking. And Shepard’s laughing,” Aria laser focused on Grizz. “A lot.”

“Laughing?” Aria was incredulous. She must have drank more than Aria thought.

“Laughing boss. “

“Well now. Maybe she’s not actually the ice princess I thought. Let me know if something really interesting happens.” Aria dismissed him with a wave. Grizz remained in place, his subvocals clearing uncomfortably.

Aria huffed and looked up.

”You’re still here Grizz.” Annoyance seeping into her tone.

“On an unrelated front, the front door would like to inform you that a certain Batarian that shall not be named, has resurfaced. “

“Gorzic?” Aria looked up. “That varren fucker. He’s got quads on him to show his face.”

“One and the same boss, and it appears he’s approaching Commander Shepard.”

“You have got to be shitting me.” Aria leaned out over her loft to see for herself. Gorzic was approaching the Commander. She’d clearly caught his eye as his lackeys slapped each other in their excitement. Shepard was no companion or dancer, but she definitely would catch anyone’s eye. This halfwit had no idea what he was getting into.

“Do you want us to detain him?” Grizz asked, his omni glowing, ready to send the order.

Shepard and her companion clinking glasses in that strange human custom before tossing back the drinks in hand. Shepard stood with her back to the sauntering warlord and leaned across the bar to grab Tedelonis in passing. Her hips pressed against the bar edge as she reached. Aria could hear her booming laughter over the din of the music. Well, this should be interesting.

“No, not yet. I want to see how this plays out. Inform Bray he may have to order up a cleaning crew.”

Shepard is in animated discussion with Teddy and her human companion only to be cut off mid sentence as Gorzic’s meaty hand lands flat and hard against the armor weave of the Commander’s left ass cheek.

Aria’s hands fly to her mouth in shocked glee.

Chapter Two - Every Bill Comes Due

Unnnnnngh. God.” Shepard rolled onto her side and cracked a gummy eyelid with an audible click, looking for the bedside clock. Oh ow. What the hell?

0400 ship’s time. She had left for Afterlife at 0100. So either she’d had a really rough three hours or almost twenty four had passed. Gingerly she rolled to her back slowly taking stock of the situation. Okay, fact one, she was in her cabin on the Normandy. The ceiling observation window exposing the gnarly twists and turns of Omega’s infrastructure. Shepard threw her arm over her eyes to block the glare. Fact two, she seemed to have all of her appendages intact, if a little worse for wear. Somehow she’d stripped down to her black Cerberus issue skivvies, hopefully she came home with her armor.

Shepard let out a groan, followed by a gravelly snore. Wait, what?

In a move that would have done any scream queen proud, she turned her head ever so slowly to the opposite bedside, terror building as her mind raced with what she might find.

“AIEEEEE!” she squealed shrilly. Placing both hands and feet into the back of Zaeed Massani, Shepard shoved him clean across the bed and off the other side.

“Christ woman!” His sleep rasped roar followed his resounding thud.

“What the fuck are you doing in my bed?!” Shepard’s words high with panic as she leapt to the other side. She put a healthy distance of one queen sized bed between them.

“What the fuck are you doing shoving me out of it? I was comfortable.” Zaeed slowly rose from the floor. Naked to the waist and clothed only in tattoos, black sleep pants and a bad attitude.

Shepard swallowed thickly and pulled herself together as the adrenaline spike wore off and the hangover rolled back in.

“I asked first.” Her voice dropping an octave.

Zaeed casually fluffed the pillows and laid back into them without so much as a by your leave. Arms folded behind his head, feet crossed at the ankles and a smirk upon his dichotomous face.

“Well about last night…would you believe keeping you from drowning in your own vomit?”

“I hardly believe you’d be so selfless.” Shepard retorted. The acid back in her tone, or was that just bile, ugh she hadn’t felt this vile since waking up dead.

“How bout I had the opportunity for a good night’s sleep in a soft, sweet smellin’ bed, and I would be protecting my paycheck from drowning in her own vomit.”

Shepard looked at him pointedly for a heartbeat longer than the average person would deem comfortable. He obviously had no intention of moving and her internal struggle to stomp the nausea down overrode her social awkwardness from waking next to one of her more tense working relationships. She gingerly settled back into her spot and resumed to nurse the mother of all hangovers. She’d be damned if she would be the one to leave her own bed.

“So then, care to explain our current situation?” Shepard casually waved her hand in an all-encompassing gesture.

“Well lessee.” His tongue darted out to wet his lips “What do you remember last?

Afterlife. Yeah, that sounds about right.

“Last thing I remember is drinking some kind of Hanar juice at Afterlife and…” She was cut off as Zaeed laughed. He laughed much harder than warranted.

“Is it really necessary to laugh so.. loudly?”

“Hanar juice… Honestly, Shepard, for the savior of the galaxy you’re pretty goddam thick. Ever hear the phrase, drinks like a fish? That should be, drinks like a jellyfish. The Hanar distill venom for Christ’s sake. I’m amazed you can string two words together right now.” He turned to look her. Blue eyes narrowed to mismatched ones.

“Do you want to hear the fucking story or not?” Shepard snapped.

“No, no sweetheart, don’t mind me.” Zaeed raised his hands in submission.

Shepard paused… and paused some more.

“And I don’t remember much more than that.”

“Well sweetheart, let me fill some gaps for you. Zaeed purred with amusement.

“Ugh, spare me.”

“Do you want to hear the fucking story or not?” Zaeed threw her words back at her, his smirk playing at the ruined side of his face.

“By all means…” Shepard sunk deeper into the pillows throwing her arm across her face.

“So last night you left the Normandy in a fine fit of rage and looking for trouble. Naturally all proper young ladies looking for a bar fight end up at Afterlife, drunk as a skunk I might add, and apparently you found trouble… does any of this ring a bell?”

“Aside from this being pretty characteristic of an alcoholic, no, it’s not exactly,” Shepard air quoted “Ringing Any Bells.” Before dropping her arm back over her eyes.

“Well you were gone for about ten hours, and in that time you drank 1,000 chits worth of booze," Shepard groaned, "and did 20,000 chits worth of damage to Aria’s bar.” She cringed. “I know this because Aria delivered a bill with your laughing, drunk ass.” He cast her a sideways glance.

“Laughing you say?” she peeked at him from under her arm.

“Still conscious I say! Girl you drank the Patriarch under the table, got your ass slapped by a Batarian warlord and then proceeded to rip his arm off and beat him to death with it. What I wouldn’t have given to see his face! Fucking Batarians!” Approval laced his voice as he ran his hand across the stubble of his check. The hair rasped attractively under his callused palm.

“Yeah, me too.” Shepard let a ghost of a smile cross her face “Though, I don’t particularly like owing Aria money.”

“Oh and you shouldn’t!” Zaeed’s raspy chuckle rolled across her frayed senses, “That’d come outta your ass 110% mark my words! But no worries sweetheart. That Batarian you beat to death was under breach of contract with Ms. T’loak. She had a hit on him for 50k. She wrote on your bill “Paid in Full.” Ha! You’re gonna run good honest bounty hunters like myself outta business if you keep your rates to reimbursement for property damage.” Shepard snorted.

“So the slate is clean?”

“As anything on Omega is.” His lopsided grimace the closest approximation to a smile he could manage.

“Lovely. So if I was such a disaster,” Zaeed chuckled low and rolled on his side facing her. She swallowed. “how’d I make it back here?”

Heat radiated off of his body, soothing her wretched consciousness. His eyes looking her over. God woman, play it cool. Cool. You’re just jacked up on whatever those stupid jellyfish drink. She closed her eyes in a supreme effort of serenity.

“Eh? Some punk with face scars and neck tattoos shows up at the airlock with you slung over his shoulder, armor and all, giggling like a drunken idiot.” Shepard cracked a lid to look him in the opaque eye. The irony not lost on her. He pointedly ignored her pointed look.

“Giggling, Shepard. Like you were some kinda girl. Honestly, I think it scarred me emotionally.” He leered.

“Jealous Massani?”

“Me? Of some fluffed up Omega brat? No, darling. I’m not worried about some young buck. Skills and talent will take you only so far without the refinement of time.”

Shepard shifted uncomfortably. Her clammy skin had warmed from his proximity. Zaeed was definitely one smug piece of shit.

“So. What did I do next?”

“Well, EDI wouldn’t let him on, so she had him leave you in the airlock. Which he was none too pleased about. The Cheerleader woke me out of a lovely sleep, dreaming about the good ole days with my Jessie, on my hard, narrow cot I might add, and had me hoist your ass into your cabin shower. And let me say, you weigh more than some slip of a girl should.”

“I’m 6ft tall Zaeed.”

“And dense as fuck. Anyway, you were still laughing up a storm when Lawson started to hose the Batarian off of you, armor and all. I think it’s still in there, may want to look to that. We put you to bed, don’t worry I looked the other way when she dressed you. Now her you might owe.” Zaeed’s sly smile curled the corner of one lip. He looked away EDI’s shiny metal ass.

“So how did you end up here?” So nonchalant Shepard she thought. Zaeed smiled. Shepard sat up in the bed much more casually than she felt. Making her next question even blander than Kelly Chambers.

“So. Um. Did we…?”

Zaeed barked a laugh, but shifted uncomfortably. Shepard released a breath she hadn’t realize she was holding. It wasn’t like Zaeed wasn’t attractive, especially considering his current arrangement, but Shepard had more post death, my Alliance boyfriend broke up with me because I was resurrected by the space devil, oh and I’m all that stands between everyone and galactic annihilation baggage than a one night stand with a surly merc she had to work with on a professional level could handle.

“No. I’m not going to ruin the one friendship I’ve managed in 20 years by sleeping with you. I prefer my women only slightly more cognizant” Shepard smiled “…and unlike to vomit on me.” And the moment was gone.

“Besides, and no offense Shepard, but I’ve seen you dance.”

Ah, his acerbic wit. Like a cold shower dousing any innuendo he had left to smolder. She wasn’t quite sure if she appreciated the gesture or not.

“Wow, thanks for kicking me when I’m down Massani.”

Zaeed tipped his imaginary hat.

“Not a problem sweetheart. Do you still need your puke bucket? I’m sure Gardner would like his pot back.”

#mass effect #mass effect 2 #Zaeed Massani x Fem!Shep #Fem!Shep #Zaeed Massani #James Vega #Aria T’loak #fanfic #fanfiction #tinmunky writes #She’s got Canadian problems #And a drinking one too #Spotify

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swampthingking · 1 month

Text

can’t study for my test because i’m having brain rot about neil accidentally getting super drunk and stumbling up to aaron like “andrew???” and aaron is like “wrong one” and neil is like “andrew.” and aaron is like “???? are you stupid” and neil goes to look for andrew but he stumbles into the table, and aaron has to catch him or he will get trampled for fucks sake, and neil just collapses into him in a drunk cuddly heap. and aaron is like “neil. you need to stand up” and neil is like “i am” and aaron is like “that’s because i’m holding you up” and they get neil to stand but neil kinda just flops into aaron’s arms again. and neil is like “i don’t hate you, i don’t, but it’s okay if you hate me” and aaron is like “ugh, ew are you really an emotional drunk???” and neil, to aaron’s horror, looks at him with tears in his eyes because you know when you’re too drunk and you kind of just get a little scared and you need help???? ya. and aaron is like … ok. and kinda holds neil until andrew comes back from the bar with more drinks. and he sees neil basically asleep on aaron’s shoulder, and aaron looking uncomfortable but accepting, so he kinda raises an eyebrow, an okay? and aaron nods and is just patting neil on his back

and tomorrow they’ll wake up and neil will toddle downstairs with his hand against his temple and aaron will have advil ready for him, and he’ll say “you’re annoying and you don’t know when to shut your mouth or mind your own business, but i don’t hate you” and the thank you for helping repair my relationship with my brother and thank you for testifying and thank you for staying goes unsaid but yeah

and that’s how aaron and neil became kind of friends

edit: vomited out a one shot for y’all (this will prob become a 5+1)

Aaron swirled his drink a few times, listening to the ice clacking against the glass.

Eden’s was packed tonight, courtesy of it being the end of the school year. College students and the regular patrons flocked to the bar, the dance floor, and all of the tables, leaving Aaron to reserve a high-top table, and his legs to dangle from the stool.

“Drew?”

Aaron ignored him in favor of the twinkling sound the ice makes in his glass. He’d already taken shots, danced, had another drink, danced again, and now Aaron’s body was heavy with alcohol and exhaustion.

“Drew,” Neil said again.

Aaron looked around their table and didn’t see Andrew. He remembered Andrew getting up and walking to the bar with their empty tray. Aaron found him a few seconds later, hands in his pockets at the bar. That and Neil, staring up at him, looking uneasy.

Before Aaron could tell Neil to get out of his face, Neil was speaking.

“Are you’nt having fun?” Neil frowned, blinking sleepy, hooded eyes at him. He leaned closer to study Aaron’s face.

“What are you doing?” Aaron grumbled, pushing Neil’s face away.

Aaron hadn’t even pushed him hard, he more removed Neil from his space rather than pushed him, but Neil wobbled like his world had tilted out of orbit. Aaron realized, quickly, that Neil was going to fall backwards. He grabbed two fistfuls of Neil’s shirt and pulled him forwards. Neil’s head lulled on his shoulders with the force, his chin hitting his chest then righting itself.

Aaron’s stomach lurched, sick with the thought that someone had put something in one of Neil’s drinks, as he would for anyone, but thankfully he’s never been put in that situation. Neil’s eyes were hooded, his face flushed. Aaron snapped once at Neil’s ear, and Neil recoiled immediately.

“Does your head hurt or anything?” Aaron asked. Neil shook his head, frowning.

“Are you dizzy? Follow my finger.” Aaron pushes Neil back so he can see his face, keeping one hand on Neil’s shoulder to hold him up. Neil follows Aaron’s finger as it moves back and forth, albeit a little labored, but not as if he’d been roofied. Aaron declares that Neil’s reaction times and responses are fine, but he still pulls the front of his shirt up and checks his belt, the button of his pants.

“What—?” Neil slapped a hand on his abdomen, stopping his shirt from being lifted any higher. Aaron didn’t need to see anything but his pants, but it was reassuring that Neil still had inhibitions.

His clothes were fine. His belt was still done, zipper up. No one had tried anything. Aaron relaxed.

“Sorry,” Aaron said. “Sorry, I just needed to…”

While racking his mind back to why Neil is this drunk, Aaron remembered Neil taking shots with Aaron, Nicky, and Kevin. Four shots. He’d seen Neil sip on another drink like the idiot had the tolerance for alcohol that the rest of them had.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Aaron said and released Neil. Neil attempted to step back, his hands raised in surrender.

“No?” Neil asked warily. Even drunk as fuck, he still respected boundaries. Andrew’s boundaries specifically, as it still hadn’t registered that he wasn’t talking to the right twin.

“I’m not Andrew,” Aaron said.

“Where’s Andrew?” Neil asked, turning his head pathetically in search. Aaron only had a good view of Andrew because they were seated at a high-top. Over the throng of taller people coupled with strobing lights, Neil’s view was obstructed.

“At the bar,” Aaron nodded in that direction.

Neil turned towards the bar. Well, he attempted to. He pivoted, lost his balance, and toppled into the table. He tried to right himself and started to fall to the other side. Aaron caught Neil before he could bust his shit and get trampled.

“Jesus Christ, Josten,” Aaron spat, righting Neil with hands on his biceps. Neil slapped a hand on the table and leaned his weight on it. The table quaked under such abuse, but held.

Neil turned slowly, grappling against the table as if he was standing in one of those spinning fair rides. In his excursion to simply spin 180°, his hand slipped off the edge of the table as he faced Aaron once again. He reached for the table, missed, reached for it again, missed, said, “Motherfucker,” under his breath, and finally gripped onto the edge. His eyes locked on Aaron’s again, and Neil’s useless hand landed on Aaron’s shoulder.

“Andrew,” Neil said. Aaron didn’t know if it was more a request or if it was just not registering.

“Wrong,” Aaron said, tense under Neil’s hand, but he didn’t push him off. He’d rather hold Neil up than peel him off the floor. “Aaron.”

“‘m very drunk,” Neil said, looking up pleadingly at Aaron as if he had a magical cure to shitfacedness, and all Neil had to do for it was look a little scared. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Aaron asked.

“I’m drunk.”

Aaron snorted. “That’s kind of the point when you’re at a bar.”

“But,” Neil said, taking a labored breath, “I’m…too drunk.”

This was beginning to feel exceedingly similar to speaking to a child. Aaron was annoyed, but not completely heartless, unlike the narrative of Aaron Neil had likely concocted. “It’s okay, Neil,” Aaron said. “You should sit down.”

Neil promptly sat as if there was a chair under him, but there was not. Aaron, still holding Neil vertical, got pulled out of his chair with the momentum. To avoid toppling to the ground—which did not get mopped as often as it should—Aaron planted his feet on the floor and hauled Neil up by his armpits.

“Help,” Neil murmured. His arms dropped to his sides as he yielded his dead weight to Aaron.

“Stand up,” Aaron grunted, readjusting to wrap an arm around Neil’s back. One of Neil’s arms flopped over Aaron’s shoulder.

“I am,” Neil complained.

“No, you are not.”

“I am.”

“Neil,” Aaron said through clenched teeth, “I am holding you up. You need to lock your knees.”

“Oh,” Neil said. He looked at his feet as if he needed to check they were on the ground.

To be fair, Neil did lock his knees, but he also leaned all of his upper body on Aaron, arms still hanging limply at his sides. He tucked his head into Aaron’s neck with, what seemed, every intention to make a home there for the night.

“Neil,” Aaron said, frozen against the hair tickling his cheek. “God dammit.”

“And…ron,” Neil spoke against his shoulder.

“Yes,” Aaron said sarcastically. “That’s me.”

“Can I j’stay here?” Neil slurred.

From what Aaron had seen of Neil’s dynamic with his brother, he knew Neil would get off if he said no. He could place Neil into a stool or pull up a chair with a back so he wouldn’t fall out and concuss himself. He could shove Neil off and make him fend for himself. He could pawn him off to Andrew.

At the moment, those other options seemed like far too much work.

That, or maybe it was the med student in him, the intrinsic urge to heal and help and nurture that smarted at the thought of pushing Neil off.

Aaron didn’t push him off when Neil readjusted and tucked an arm into his chest, the other gripping Aaron for stability. He didn’t when Neil asked again, a quiet, “Aaron.”

“Okay,” Aaron conceded. He rubbed a hand up and down Neil’s back placatingly, but also because Neil seemed like he needed it. And he came to Aaron for it. Well, he came to Andrew and got Aaron. But he didn’t push Aaron off, and Aaron hasn’t done the same.

And they just…stood like that. For what seemed like a long time, but it probably was only a few minutes before Neil spoke again.

“Aaron,” Neil said.

Aaron hummed in response.

“I don’ hate you.”

“What?” Aaron asked. “What the fuck are you talking about, Neil?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“What?” Aaron said again.

“I don’wanna fight.” Neil lets out a colossal breath.

“We haven’t fought in a long time,” Aaron says, his idea of agreement. Acceptance.

Neil was quiet, because it was true. Neil seemed content to lay in Aaron’s arms, and Aaron didn’t have another stool next to him. He sure as shit wasn’t giving his up for Neil, but Neil was genuinely so unsteady on his feet that Aaron couldn’t let him go.

He trembled a bit, and Aaron was almost amused that after everything Neil had been through, being a little too drunk is what finally did it for him.

But Aaron had felt that way before. Inebriated and scared in a crowded room of strangers. Neil, however, has people he knows. How can Aaron be upset at Neil for wanting the comfort that he also craved? How can he be upset that Neil feels safe enough with Andrew to ask for help? That his brother finally feels safe with someone too?

“Aaron,” Neil said.

“What,” Aaron said.

“It’s okay if you hate me.”

“Oh God,” Aaron groaned, “Ew. Are you really an emotional drunk?”

Neil pulled back and, to Aaron’s horror, there were actual tears in his eyes. His lip trembled as he bit it, holding the tears in. Aaron hated how much of himself he was seeing in Neil tonight. The harrowing fact that maybe they are quite similar.

“Oh God,” Aaron said again, mortified. He grabbed the back of Neil’s head and shoved it back into his shoulder, effectively hiding Neil’s teary face.

He cast a desperate look to Andrew, who was finally on his way back to the table. He patted Neil on the shoulder, like one would burp a baby when they have no idea how to do so.

“Andrew.”

Andrew didn’t need prompting to look. His eyes were trained on Neil and Aaron from the moment he turned around. By the nonchalance of his movements and his lack of alarm, Aaron guessed he had been watching their interaction.

Andrew set the tray down on the table and cast a significant look between them, settling on Neil’s intoxicated form keeled over on Aaron’s shoulder.

Andrew raises one eyebrow, a silent question, an okay?

Aaron finds himself nodding, and unsure why. All he knows right now, a few drinks in, is that he doesn’t hate this. And he doesn’t hate that Neil doesn’t hate him.

The smell of coffee set Neil’s feet moving like a Pavlovian response. He was half awake already with a pounding headache, like his eyeballs were beating his closed lids to death.

Neil toddles down the stairs with his eyes closed, a hand pressed hard to his temple, stabilizing his brain.

Aaron was standing at the counter already, facing the sputtering coffee pot. His arms were crossed, hair ruffled from sleep. At the sound of footsteps behind him, he turned.

The memories from last night played past Neil’s mind like a sped-up movie. He grimaced in embarrassment, and felt a little sick at how drunk he was. How stupid he was, to drink that much. He should have known his tolerance isn’t matched with the rest of them. He could have gotten hurt, could have said something—

Fuck.

“Fuck,” Neil said, covering his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Aaron said. He turned back to the coffee, though his posture was rigid.

Neil grabbed a glass of water. He noticed Aaron watching from the corner of his eye, but Neil chose to ignore him, figuring that’s best. He sat on the counter with his water, sipping it slowly while he and Aaron waited for the coffee to finish brewing.

The silence was thick, but they were both too stubborn to leave the kitchen. Usually, they preferred to wait and pretend the other wasn’t there.

That’s what Neil thought, at least. After a painful few minutes, Aaron huffed and grabbed the bottle of Advil from the drawer next to the sink. He shook two pills out and sat them next to Neil.

Neil stared at them until Aaron cast a pointed look at the pills, then physically gestured to them with raised brows. Neil took them while Aaron watched.

The coffee pot beeped. Aaron made a split second decision, grabbing two mugs and pouring coffee into them. He slid Neil’s across the counter. It sloshed over the side, but Aaron wasn’t capable of caring at the moment. His mind was busy, and he knew Neil had noticed his lack of eye contact; the analytical fuck.

“Look,” Aaron said. He did not look at Neil to say it. “You’re annoying, and you never know when to shut your mouth or mind your business. Most of the time, I’m convinced you have a death wish, and a lot of the time I find myself resenting you. You complicated our lives, put us all in danger, didn’t give a shit.”

Neil’s chest hurt. He didn’t know if it was anger or guilt. Aaron started talking again before he could figure it out.

“But I don’t hate you. I can’t, really. I can’t even fault you for the shitty things you did, because it all worked out.” Aaron glanced quickly at Neil, looked away. His cheeks were red.

The thank you for helping repair my relationship with my brother and thank you for testifying and thank you for being good to Andrew went unsaid, but Aaron hoped Neil wasn’t obtuse enough to force him to say it out loud.

Neil must have understood, because he nodded. Aaron figured that was as close to a reconciliation they were going to have, so he leaned against the counter and pretended everything was normal.

For the first time, they drank their coffee in silence without animosity orchestrating it.

Neil’s mug was half empty when Andrew joined them. He paused in the doorway, squinty eyed and mussed, looking between the two. Neil on the counter, Aaron leaning against it. Their silence, but lack of tension.

“This is weird,” Andrew finally said, his voice gravely from sleep.

“Yeah,” Neil and Aaron said simultaneously.

Neil glanced over his mug at Aaron, the corner of his mouth twitching. Aaron regarded it, but looked away, because something like contentment had made its way onto Andrew’s face.

Aaron smiled at that instead.

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