Leon Orcot (under_arrest) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2020-05-17 00:09:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, leon orcot, michael guerin |
Who: Leon and Michael
What: Leon gets drunk and Michael takes him home
When: Saturday, May 9th
Where: Some bar, then Leon's place
Ratings/Warnings: Low/none (Drinking and language, probably)
Status: Complete
Michael usually stopped at a bar after work. It beat drinking at home alone. And well he usually found someone to take home anyway, or to the bathroom, or anywhere really. But he wasn’t even in the mood for that tonight. He just wanted to get drunk and forget about his shit dreams. If only the pain in his arm would subside enough for him to.
He was on his third glass of whiskey and finally starting to feel the effects. Though that dull ache of his damn burn was still there. Just… less prominent. He quickly downed the rest of his drink motioning for another.
Leon hadn’t been drinking as much the last few months. For one, he spent most of his time with D, and D generally didn’t break out the drinks for any old occasion. But tonight, he figured a couple drinks wouldn’t hurt. He’d run into Alex not long ago, the first time in months, and it was hard to get the look of hatred that Alex had given him out of his head. Anyway, he’d gotten off work too late to go see Chris and D, and it was still hours before he’d be tired enough to sleep, so to the bar it was.
He ordered a whiskey, and thought about how he’d like to have a smoke. It was times like this when he missed the Double Tap, and all the (illegal) indoor smoking that came with it. He let out a sigh, knocked back his whiskey, and headed up to the bar to order another one. He frowned a little when he recognized the man at the other end of the bar who was also ordering a drink, and made his way over.
“Not planning on making more work for me tonight, are you, Guerin?”
Almost as soon as his next drink was brought over a familiar figure approached. And not familiar in a good way. Not that he hated Officer… er.. Detective Orcot, but the guy had locked him up a few times in the past. He didn’t exactly have pleasant memories of the guy.
“Thought you were past that now, Orcot,” Michael replied sipping his drink. “Don’t you have murders to solve or some shit?”
“I’ve always got time for drunk assholes,” Leon said. “And it’s not like I’ve got anything better to do tonight. So how about you don’t cause any trouble, and I don’t have to lock you up again?”
“That’s a little sad, Orcot.” Not that he was one to talk really. He was spending his night getting drunk after all. But at least he wasn’t sitting around waiting to arrest someone. He took another swallow from his glass. “I make no promises.” He did have a tendency to get himself in trouble. Mostly if someone pissed him off enough.
“Yeah, well,” Leon said, waving a hand. It did feel a little weird not spending the evening with his brother and the count. “Haven’t seen you in the drunk tank lately. You been keeping out of trouble? Or have I just been lucky in missing you?”
Michael finished off his drink and ordered another, turning his attention back to Leon a small gleam in his eye. “Didn’t know you’ve been looking for me,” he grinned. “Would have made sure to be around more otherwise.”
Leon snorted. “Yeah, jail cells are the best place for a meet and greet,” he muttered. “Hope you don’t want to see me that bad. I hear the beds are uncomfortable and the food is bad.”
“I’ve seen worse,” Michael said with a shrug. It was an honest comment too. Jail was practically a hotel compared to some of the shit foster homes he had been in. Of course now his trailer was his sanctuary and he’d much rather be there than a jail cell. But still the point remained. “Unless you wanna take me to a more comfortable bed?” He was definitely teasing even if there was a bit of flirtatiousness to it. Michael already had more than enough people to sleep with, but still he couldn’t resist making the comment.
Leon choked on his drink, pounding on his chest as the whiskey burned its way into his lungs, and eyed Michael to see if he was serious. Leon didn’t think he was but… well, so what if he was? After the display D had put on with that Xanatos creep, why couldn’t Leon flirt with some guy at the bar?
Hell, even if D hadn’t been hanging all over Xanatos at hs party, why couldn’t Leon anyway? It wasn’t like there was anything going on between him and D.
Still, it didn’t feel right. “Those are the only ones I know,” Leon said, shrugging. “You can take ‘em or leave ‘em.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Michael said as his next drink was brought over. So much for having a light conversation with the guy. But he should have known better. Orcot was always on the more serious side.
Leon sighed at Michael’s short response, rubbing the side of his head. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ve just had a lousy week. You know the ones where it just feels like you just can’t catch a break?” he knocked back the rest of his whiskey, and then motioned for the bartender to bring him another one.
“Yeah,” Michael replied thinking of his arm. But even without it he had plenty of shitty weeks in the past. Mostly his whole damn childhood. “I’ve had a few of those,” he paused taking a sip of his drink as he pondered his next words. “What’s go you so low?”
“It’s just…” Leon waved a hand vaguely in the air, as if that described it all. He barely knew Micahel - really, he only knew him from all the times he locked him up - and he didn’t need to go spilling his whole life story. He took a gulp of the whiskey that was placed in front of him.
“I ran into my ex the other day, and apparently he still hates my guts, even though it’s been six months since we broke up and I don’t even know what I did in the first place. And then I went to this stupid party last night, a real ritzy kind of thing and I fucking hate those swanky parties - I’ve only ever gone to them before on duty. And D was hanging all over the rich creep who was throwing the damn thing, and I just know he’s up to something. Xanatos, I mean, not D. Though D’s probably up to something anyway, because he always is. I just got this feeling off him, you know? Besides, who would flirt with D unless there was something seriously wrong with them in the first place? Oh, and fucking space teddy bears.”
Well that was a hell of a lot more than Michael was expecting to hear. The only thing he could relate to really was the hating fancy parties. Michael had never been to one but he was pretty damn sure he would hate it. But that seemed like the least important thing of Leon’s whole speech or whatever the hell that was.
It was Michael’s turn to rub his head as he tried to process it all. “So wait. Who is D? Your ex?”
“What? Oh god no,” Leon blanched. “No, Alex is my ex.” Alex. Ex. Ha. That was a little amusing, at least. “D’s the guy I’m currently investigating. Not that I’ve tied him to any crimes yet, but I know I will.”
Alex? Alex had an ex? No that didn’t make sense he had been in New York. Leon was clearly talking about a different guy. “So what are you investigating D for?” Michael asked still trying to follow along.
“Murder,” Leon said, frowning. “He’s definitely a murderer in the Dreams, at least. He has ties to the Chinese mafia here, too. That I know for sure.”
“You dream?” That explained some of it. A little bit. Because dreams were complicated. Michael was beginning to learn that. Though he still wasn’t entirely sure he was understanding what Leon had gone on about with the party.
“Yeah,” Leon said, realizing only belatedly that, had Michael not Dreamed, that would have been a very strange statement to make. But what did Leon care about that? He’d never really believed in the sanctity of keeping all the OC strangeness underwraps. “You too?”
“Yeah.” But Michael wasn’t about to talk about his dreams. He was trying not to think about them that was the whole point of drinking. “D is in your dreams and here,” he said working it out in his head. He knew that could happen given Max and Isobel were in his. “And you think he murdered people?”
“I know he murdered people,” Leon said emphatically, jabbing a finger in Michael’s general direction. Well, in the dreams at least. He wasn’t 100% here, but that didn’t mean D was any less shady.
“Maybe,” Michael said small smirk forming on his face. “You should spend less time worrying about me and my drinking and more on that,” his tone was light, definitely joking. He had a feeling Orcot spent a hell of a lot of time worrying about the D guy.
Leon shrugged. “Arresting drunks is a whole lot more cut and dry than anything else.” Sometimes, cut and dry was nice. Trying to figure out D all the time was a headache. He gave Michael a bit of a half smile. “Going on like this though, I’d almost think you wanted me to slap a pair of cuffs on you.”
“Depends,” Michael grinned taking a sip of his drink. “What kinda cuffs are we talking about?” He couldn’t help himself. Orcot had opened himself up for that one.
Nope, Leon still felt guilty. He couldn’t figure out why he felt guilty, given the fact that he was completely single, but he still did. “Har har,” he muttered into his glass.
“I think you need more drinks than me,” Michael commented. And that was saying a lot considering the freaking cross burned into his arm. But dam, Leon’s mood was sour.
Leon snorted. “Let’s just say everyone who gets to deal with this shit needs more drinks,” he said. “You got any plans after this?”
Michael shook his head. He was avoiding seeing the people in his life this week. Though that hadn’t gone completely well. He had bumped into a few. Like Leon. But he didn’t really count. “This is the plan for the night,” Michael said motioning towards his glass.
“I guess it’s as good a plan as any,” Leon said, finishing his drink and ordering another for himself.
Michael never exactly imagined he would be drinking with Leon. But here they were. Although while Leon kept drinking Michael had slowed down a bit. Even nursing his last drink instead of downing it in just a few swallows. Leon it seemed only seemed to speed up. When last call came around Michael didn’t even bother ordering another drink, instead he just took the last sip from his glass.
It had been a long time since the last time Leon had gotten drunk, and it snuck up on him before he even realized it was happening. Before he knew it, he’d had too much to drink. He should go home.
“Good seein’ you,” Leon slurred, despite the fact that he hadn’t really said anything to Michael for a couple of drinks. “I needta go.” He slid off his stool, and stumbled.
Michael stood up himself, slightly buzzed but mostly fine. “You need a ride,” he said more of a statement than a question.
Leon squinted, willing Michael into focus and for the ground to stop heaving under his feet. “You good to drive?” he asked. He hadn’t thought Michael would be.
“Yeah,” Michael replied pushing his curls out of his eyes. “You wanna test me Officer Orcot?” His tolerance was pretty high and he had slowed down towards the end of the night. He was good.
“Ionav a breathalyzer,” Leon muttered. He took a breath, managing, briefly, to steady himself. “I’ll take your word for it.”
This was not at all how Michael was expecting his night to go. And yet here he was leading the drunk detective who usually arrested him for being drunk out to his car. “I’m gonna remind you of this next time you try to arrest me,” Michael said with a grin unlocking the truck so Leon could get in.
Likewise, if someone had ever told Leon that he’d find himself climbing into Guerin’s truck, leaning back heavily on the seat, his head tilted backward, he would have laughed. Instead, here he was. “I’ll kee’ i’ in min’,” Leon muttered, closing his eyes. “Thanks.”
He climbed into the drivers side noticing Leon’s already closed eyes. “Need your address,” he told the guy. He didn’t think Leon wanted Michael taking him back to his place.
Leon slurred his address, realized after a moment that it was probably indecipherable, and then repeated it again, slower. He leaned his head against the window; it was a little cool, and that felt good on his face. “Thanks, man.”
“No problem,” Michael drove the rest of the way to Leon’s place in silence. Still not sure how the hell he ended up in this situation. How he became the responsible one. Soon enough they got there. Michael parked the car looking over at Leon. “You good?”
“Yeah, m’good,” Leon muttered, opening the car door and stepping out. At least, he would have attempted to step outside if he hadn’t caught his foot on the floormat as he stepped out and fell onto his hands and knees on the pavement outside.
Yeah he was clearly not good. Well shit, he was going to have to help Leon all the way to his apartment. Definitely not how he planned his night to go. He got out of his truck walking around to help Leon up to his feet. “What floor you on?” Michael asked letting the guy lean on him as they made their way into the building.
The stubborn, proud part of Leon’s brain wanted to push this guy away. How humiliating was it to have one of his collars help him up to his apartment, nevermind the fact that Leon generally liked to keep his place of residence a secret from people he’d thrown in jail before. But the rest of him realized that he probably needed the help.
“Third floor,” Leon muttered. “S’an elevator.”
Thank god there was an elevator. Michael didn’t really want to help this guy up stairs. Helping him into his apartment was already more than enough for Michael. He really hoped Leon was sober enough to remember this. Especially next time he saw Michael drunk.
He helped the guy into the elevator and up to his floor in silence. “Which one’s yours?” he asked as the doors opened to let them out.
It was easier to just stumble down the hall and to force Michael to stop in front of his door than it was to answer. He fumbled for his keys, nearly dropped them, and, blissfully, managed to get them into the door, and into his apartment. Leon was long past recognizing it for what a disaster it was. It looked a little like a laundry mat had exploded in his living room - there was even a pair of boxers in his kitchen sink. Dirty dishes filled the sink, empty bottles littered nearly every flat surface in sight, and his ashtrays were overflowing.
“You can crash if you want,” Leon muttered, finally peeling himself away from Michael so he could stumble into his apartment. He didn’t know where Michael lived, but it was late and there was a possibility Michael lived a while away. “I got a spare bed.”
It was a race car bed, but it was comfortable enough. And since no one went in Chris’ old room since Chris went to live with D, that room at least was fairly clean.
Yeah the apartment was messy but Michael wasn’t paying too much attention. He was just focussed on getting Leon to bed and getting the hell out of there. “I’m good, thanks,” Michael said. “Which room is yours?” he asked as they passed by the race car bed room. He had a feeling that wasn’t Leon’s and it only solidified the fact that he definitely didn’t want to crash here tonight.
The next door past that one was Leon’s, complete with an unmade queen bed and a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the windowsill next to it. No doubt that bottle would be seeing some action in the morning once Leon started nursing his hangover, but for now he made it to his bed and flopped down, face first. He was out nearly as soon as his face hit the mattress.
Well that took care of that. Leon was passed out and snoring pretty damn loudly in his own bed. Michael’s job was done. Time to get the hell out of there.