Theodore Laberenz (stirstick) wrote in remains_rpg, @ 2015-10-31 23:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | # 2018 [10] october, calvin davidson, theodore laberenz |
WHO: Theo and Cal
WHERE: White Trail
WHAT: Halloween drinks lead to drunken mishaps.
WHEN: Friday evening on October 10th to Saturday morning of November 1st.
STATUS: Complete
The same could be said for any other holiday, but Halloween rung especially true nowadays since it literally drove people to drink. What better reminder that the country was devastated by an outbreak than a holiday dedicated to the undead? Except if you dressed like a zombie now, you’d most likely get shot. But that wasn’t an excuse for survivors in Austin not to try and enjoy it. Maybe it might dredge up some ironically bad memories, but nothing a drink or two couldn’t fix. That was where the local bar came in. Now, people could get drunk out of their minds in an appropriate setting without feeling too guilty about it.
Halloween was also a remarkable free pass.
On any other day, getting drunk would be considered irresponsible when you were a government official. But now the irresponsible thing to do would be to leave. Safety always came first, especially when you were feeling the alcohol kick in and zombies were outside the door. That brings us to Theo and Cal being completely responsible and renting a room for the night. It was getting late, but they weren’t done talking and they definitely weren’t done drinking.
The past few months have been tough for both of them. Drinking was a great way to let off some much needed steam. As a detective, Theo tried not to drink when he was working a case and he was usually always working a case, so it was a nice reprieve to have an excuse for a day off. It honestly didn’t even have to be at the White Trail, but he just mostly wanted to see if the new owner would decorate the place (in fact, the new owner did decorate the place with a rather festive theme). It was also nice to get out of the Capitol and hang out with his bro somewhere less gloomy and uptight, given recent unfortunate events.
By the time it was half past ten, most of the remaining people in the pub had already either trickled upstairs for the evening or passed out in their respective booths. Theo figured that it was a good a time as any to move the party upstairs. Grabbing the bottle and his glass off of the table, he headed for the stairway hidden in the far corner of the bar. “I kind of regret not dressing up as Nightwing now,” he joked, pulling out the key the owner had handed him earlier, “This is the one time in the year that I wouldn’t look like a complete idiot wearing a superhero costume.”
He gave Theo an appraising look, watching the other man as he fussed with the key.
“Nah, I’d say you’d still look like a complete idiot.” But it was an affectionate insult, warmth laced through Cal’s words as he looked quizzically into the dregs of his glass—he’d evidently forgotten to finish it before they started moving—and then drained the rest of the drink.
The soldier leaned against the wall. He refused to think of it as slumping, but his movements were much more loose-limbed than they had been when they first arrived, and the whole world seemed to tilt slightly and pleasantly to the left. On the heels of his bullshit month, Calvin Davidson had had quite, quite a very lot to drink, choosing to banish all that anxiety and strain and anger through a good night out with one of his best friends.
“You managing that lock okay, Laberenz?”
It took a few tries (and he completely blamed the fit of the key over the contented buzz he was feeling), but he got the door opened. The second floor of the White Trail consisted of ten rooms total, five on opposite sides of each other. Theo didn’t know how any of the other rooms looked, but he was pretty impressed by what the late Carl Summerfield had done with the place. There was a bed, desk, couch, closet, and bathroom. Candles were set inside square concaves in the walls to light the room. The bar was reliant on solar power, so it was natural to turn to fireplaces and candles in the evening.
Setting the glass on top of the desk, Theo helped himself with more of the whiskey, pouring the liquor in with a flourish. “See that? I’d managed it perfectly,” he picked up the drink, tilting it towards the door, “Your honesty is appreciated, by the way.” He took a swig of the distilled alcohol, already far too reacquainted with the slow burn it left behind in his throat. “I wouldn’t be able to pull off Nightwing well,” he dropped down onto the brown leather couch, “Vigilantism isn’t in the books for me. Not that there is much law left to differentiate between the lawful and the lawless anymore, but I hope I’m at least doing right by civilians with the little resources and manpower we have at our disposal nowadays.”
The APD certainly took a small win yesterday morning. Finding heavy duty firepower – suspiciously similar to the ones Capitol patrolmen used – among the corpses of Los Nahuales members was just the breakthrough he needed. His concentrated investigation into the new group of raiders was finally beginning to pay off, thanks to the most unexpected of sources. Basically, Detective Theodore Laberenz did. have something to celebrate tonight, especially if it was the only night he could unequivocally indulge himself in it. “Drink some more,” he prodded, holding out the bottle towards the DoR agent.
Theo was celebrating, and Cal had said that he wanted to pour out a drink (or two, or three, or six) for the detective’s successes—but mostly it was a distraction. A brighter moment, away from the undefinable grief and anger that had dogged his heels ever since running into the Hounds here.
So he picked up his refilled glass and flopped down on the other end of the sofa, feeling his muscles unwind again. There was something about a smaller room and a locked door that made him feel safe.
“Don’t think I’m much for the vigilantism either. I mean, I’ve done my share of off-books charity, but it ain’t the same. I feel like we’re both too much—” products of the system, he almost said, but that sounded too unflattering, “fans of law and order. Due process, as much as that exists nowadays. Best effort.”
Society did need law and order, but then it could be a real pain in the ass sometime too. APD had gained possession of the guns, but it hadn’t lasted long. At least not long enough for them to prove anything. But it was clear now that the weapons Los Nahuales had with them belonged to Capitol patrolmen. It wasn’t hard to deduce from there that Olinger must have struck some kind of deal with them. Theo had made the connection the moment he’d laid eyes on the firearms, which was why he’d intentionally brought attention to them outside of his department. He had a feeling that the mayor wasn’t going to let them keep the guns for long if he was actually involved, so he needed witnesses and he got them.
By afternoon, Capitol patrolmen had taken all of the weapons and evidence from APD, claiming they were part of a military investigation. Military investigation. Yeah, right. It was more like they were just trying to cover up their asses. But Theo still took the victory. It might be much more difficult to pin anything on Olinger now, but he was going to break the case wide open – no matter how long it was going to take.
“Let’s not talk about what sticklers we are though,” he changed the subject, leaning fully back against the seat. He was feeling far too light and buoyant to want to ruin it with thoughts of what waited for him tomorrow. “This is a really nice room,” Theo pointed out, making an incongruous gesture at the wide expanse of space, “It’s even nicer than my office. Can you believe it?”
Not that his dinky, little office could honestly be a worthwhile comparison to any decent rooms whatsoever. “Maybe I should just move in here permanently,” he muttered, taking another sip of his liquor.
Theo’s comment had sparked a consideration, however, and so Cal couldn’t help the second admiring look he cast around the room. His gaze lingered on that headboard again, then he gave a thoughtful noise low in his throat as he stared into his drink.
Cal’s head was buzzing with a thought—had been ever since his friend had returned alive from the ruins of D.C.—and he couldn’t quite shake it loose. Wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to.
So this time, when he looked back at Theo, there was a contemplative edge to Cal’s usual playfulness. “I mean, do you even have a bedroom at the Capitol? I’ve never seen it—I bet you’ve just been makin’ it up this whole time so we don’t worry about you.”
“I’ll have you know my office may not be impressive to look at, but it’s cozy and it’s comfortable.” His eyes flickered over to the bed. How long had it been since he’d slept in one? Probably since he’d returned from Washington. “It might not have one of those,” he gave a noncommittal wave toward it, “but I have a cot.” Theo didn’t need to be comfortable to do his work. A part of him also didn’t feel right to live in excess when thousands of survivors were living in worse conditions than a cluttered office space.
“I have my old apartment too, but I haven’t been there in two years.”
That apartment didn’t hold anything for him anymore; he wasn’t the same man who had lived there. Both he and Theo were uncomfortable resting in relative luxury (or resting at all) when that ever-persistent voice of duty kept nagging and nipping at their heels, never satisfied, never done.
One night to forget about work, though...
“We’re gonna have to share that bed. Hope you don’t mind—although I’ll have you know that many reputable sources report I’m a pretty good human pillow.”
Always an easy joke between the three of them, Theo and Cal and Isaac: the trips to Paris, the pretended jealousy, the faux flirtation between friends. But other cogs and gears were turning in Cal’s head, and when he set his glass (empty once more) down on the endtable, it was the sound of a man who’d made up his mind about something.
To say the least, it was a mess. Any valuables he had was lost. He grabbed some clothes, photos, and comic books, and never looked back. Material possessions just weren’t all that important in the grand scheme of things nowadays. Not when every single focus of your day was committed to survival and to protecting the well-being of the ones around you. “I’m considering paying it a visit in a couple of weeks.”
Scoffing, Theo finished the rest of his drink before he regarded Cal with a slight quirk to his lips. “Don’t think I won’t take advantage of you tonight then.” Leaning forward, he picked up the whiskey to refill his glass, “I could never resist a good human pillow. Although, I do have a source that would refute your claim.” Other source being Isaac and his opinion on Cal’s bed manners.
“But I wouldn’t mind, you know. Being taken advantage of. I could prove your contradictory source wrong.”
It was said offhand—but it had a note of challenge in it, a card played on the table between them as squarely as if they were still playing poker back at the Capitol.
Theo had always been cautious with his relationships and the boundaries he had set for them. He wasn’t one to cross the line between friends and lovers without careful consideration. The consequence would be far too messy and complicated, even if it was a simple traipse. But the challenge masked behind Cal’s words were not lost to him and he could feel an impulsive (drunken) pull to respond with a taunt of his own. “Can you? Because I don’t think you can handle it.”
He wasn’t in the best state of mind to rationalize what was going on. All he knew then was that he’d completely forgotten how good alcohol could make him feel and how the bed – paried with the dim setting of the room – seemed like a really welcoming place to be right now. And, if he needed any justification for what might happen next, Isaac had told him that he needed to get laid. Not to mention, it would actually provide him with a worthwhile insight into one particular area of mutual concern.
And, in his current inebriated state, it all just seemed like a very good idea.
“That’s a dare if ever there was one, Laberenz.” But there was a delighted glint in his eyes now, and he scooted over near enough to swipe the just-refilled whiskey glass out of his friend’s grasp, freeing Theo’s hands for more interesting things. Cal took a sip from the glass himself, deposited it on the nearest available surface, and then finally took the last leap: one hand fisting in Theo’s rumpled shirt, dragging him close enough to catch him in a rough kiss.
If he was more sober, Theo might have found it within himself to feel surprised. He didn’t think his friend would have actually followed through on his tease – not because he wasn’t one for a challenge but because the joking flirtation between them had always been a harmless, even meaningless, joke. Or at least he had thought it was. After all, he’d always supposed Cal was straight. Strictly straight.
But that sort of contemplation had no place here and it would not surface again until much later. Right now, Theo was much more invested in what he was feeling, what he could feel, and what he was going to feel. His mind had taken a step back as his base instincts took over. If Cal had any hesitation or doubt, it would soon be banished as his hand found its way under his shirt and he pressed into him with a subtle hint to move forward – to keep moving forward.
But now all of those considerations were swept aside in favour of blind desire, and the fact that he’d been nursing this little hypothetical for a while, and getting it out of his system would be very fine indeed. Theo's hands slipping was all the encouragement he needed, so Cal obligingly paused to shuck his shirt, exposing scarred sun-tanned skin. He started working at the hem of Theo’s—straight to business, then, aided by that pleasant buzz of alcohol and spark between them.
The other man was taller. As Cal tugged up the other shirt, his fingers played across the taut skin of Theo’s abdomen and found ridges of scar tissue, almost a direct mirror to his own: what looked like a knife wound, another a gunshot. Cal paused long enough to look down in interest. “Before or after the outbreak?” he found himself asking, temporarily distracted by the sight, admiring even as he was curious.
But it was a different experience to see Cal’s body up close, to have it so closely within reach.
His eyes dropped down to his own chest though as he finally answered. “Before,” he pointed at the scars on his right abdomen and left shoulder before he traced his finger back down to the one on his left abdomen, “After.” His gaze flickered back up to him as a languid smile fell into place. “Any more questions?”
Theo had always been open about his sexuality. He never saw a reason to hide it. Sure, he wouldn’t explicitly state it until asked or approached about it, but that was more a matter of privacy than an actual need to conceal it. He had a decent amount of experience with being in the public’s eye in his more youthful days as a politician’s son. Once he grew out of it, he just wanted his private life to stay, well, private.
As riveting as the origins of his scars would be to tell, Theo’s concentration had drifted down to the agent’s buckle, his fingers already making quick work of unclasping it. His question had been rhetorical, anyway.
The hangover was a bitch.
Cal normally woke with a jolt most mornings, but this time he came slowly to, and started blearily cataloguing his state. There was a pleasant exhaustion in his limbs, a sated weariness that he associated with his very favourite type of exercise, but his head was another matter entirely. Cal groaned, burying himself under the pillow as light filled the room, November dawning bright and cheerful and crisp. Normally he’d have been up and at ‘em and on his feet by now. Normally—
Awareness and memory came trickling back. Normally he wouldn’t be naked, and Theo wouldn’t be in the bed beside him.
“Ah, fuck,” he said.
Still, even as his pulse throbbed in his skull, it was hard to regret. He’d been wanting to do that for longer than he liked to admit. And he could sense the other man shifting on the mattress now—looked like they were both light sleepers.
No surprise there.
Once he woke up, he stayed awake.
Sleeping in was unthinkable; falling back asleep was only something other people did. But now he found himself in the compromising position of wanting to do just that. Keep his eyes shut and continue sleeping. The persistent throbbing in his head didn’t prove to be much help either.
Unfortunately, he was awoken by movement. Movement meant he wasn’t alone. Although it took him a moment to get a firm grip of his situation, he eventually got a grip on it. His memories were foggy, but he at least knew for a fact that he was still very much naked under the sheets. Now he just needed to figure out what the hell happened last night. It was going to take a second.
And now that the second had passed, he had a completely different reason for not wanting to open his eyes to greet the November morning.
He did it anyway.
Opening an eye first, he glanced over at – yup, there he was in all his glory – Cal, before he pried his other one open. “Shit,” he said, lifting a hand to massage his temple. It’d actually happened. Well, he knew that it’d happened (he was kind of there for it), but seeing the blond just made the reality of it so much more real. Sitting up slowly, Theo let the blanket slide down and pool at his waist as he rested his arms on top of his knees. “I didn’t even know you were into guys.”
How did he managed to miss that?
Calling it a crush didn’t feel right—they were grown-ass professional men in their thirties—but whatever that attraction was, evidently he’d gotten better at hiding it than he thought. (Which was, in and of itself, more food for thought.)
He was still sprawled on his stomach, but now propped himself up on his elbows. The shift of the blanket meant exposing the lines of his shoulders and back and ass, but the man didn’t seem bothered, evidently unflustered and brazen in this particular context. Cal was amused now, voice thrumming on the edge of an embarrassed laugh. “Alright. Fuck. Good to know I’m good at hiding my hard-on for people.”
Granted, it’d been a good two years (give or take) since he last had anyone naked beside him. But since it was obvious what had happened, he didn’t feel the need to stay covered up – or at least he hadn’t until he remembered the scar on his back. It stretched from his left shoulder down to his right hip and he’d done an excellent job at concealing it up until now.
Times like these were the ones where he’d felt that old familiar itch for a cig.
He could work with a straw though, if he could locate his clothes – which were apparently forming a nice, messy trail across the room from the couch to the bed. Great. “I didn’t think you were serious,” he responded, keeping his tone easy, “I exchange jokes with Isaac, too. It’s our dynamic.” Right?
Probably.
He casted a glance down at him with an arch of his brow. “Well, don’t get too cocky now.”
“Also, me being a cocky shit comes part and parcel with waking up next to me. Sorry.” A flash of a grin, a glimmer of his usual humour starting to insinuate itself through the slight awkwardness between them, the awareness of lines crossed in their friendship. Catching onto Theo’s restlessness, Cal scrabbled up to a sitting position himself (which only made his head pound harder, and he winced, slowing down his movements).
“Plus, it doesn’t have to be a big deal or—change our dynamic. Right? I mean, frankly, I needed that. It was fun.” He was striving to keep his voice light, too; he’d had too many mornings like this that had turned mortifying, albeit pre-outbreak. Too many people fussing over what it meant. It was just sex, Cal reminded himself.
Bracing himself, Theo pulled the covers off of him as he stood up. He did it a tad bit too quickly and felt the room spin for a minute. That was a mistake. It seemed like even the smallest movement increased the ache in his head. If he didn’t mind exposing himself before, he definitely didn’t care about it now. Instead of trying to clumsily reach for his boxers from safely under the sheets, Theo decided to save himself from that embarrassment by choosing a somewhat more dignified (or at least as dignified as it could get) approach. “Right,” he agreed, working out the next few steps in his mind, “It was fun.”
As he reached his undergarment, he turned slightly (so his side would face Cal), before he crouched down to pick it up. “Our dynamic won’t change.” Theo was grateful for the usual flatness of his intonation. It worked wonders not to give away his thoughts and emotions even in the most tense or awkward situations. Even if he couldn’t entirely convince himself of that statement, he had a decent chance of convincing Cal, which was all he needed. He’d figure it out on his own later.
Slipping his boxers on, Theo could feel some of the tension leave his body. Not a whole lot, but better than a second ago. “But we’re never doing it again,” he said, retrieving his pants next, “I’m pretty sure I get enough of your cockiness on a day-to-day basis without having to wake up to it bright and early.” Rifling in the pocket, Theo retrieved one of the stir sticks he kept in an old Marlboro box (and no, the irony of that was not lost to him), inserting it into the corner of his mouth. Pure bliss.
“No one deserves that.” He jested with a grin, relaxing with each idle chew of the thin plastic.
Theo was keeping his back mostly averted, but Cal’s gaze snagged on the far edge of the jagged scrawl of scar tissue, the one he’d caught a glimpse of earlier. If memory served, he’d felt it under his hands last night. Mapping the contours and angles of Theo’s own healed injuries, while his own were bared to view and touch as well. He made a mental note.
Cal rolled out from his side of the bed—unaccustomed to lying around and lazing the day away, and this hangover wasn’t going to let him anyway—and started foraging for his own clothes. He eventually found his boxers and started hopping into them. “Never?” he echoed, after a moment. Maybe it was joking, maybe it wasn’t, but he couldn’t help the instinctive little jerk of disappointment. Wryly: “You sure about that? Don’t tell me I didn’t fuckin’ manage to prove your source wrong, after all that.”
He still didn’t know whoever was slandering his sexual prowess to Theo—but again, if memory served, he’d crossed that item neatly off the to-do list. Defend personal honour. Yep. Done. Gave it the college try.
In some ways, he was thankful for the hangover. It’d prevented him from getting too mad at himself for slipping up. He needed to stay collected, at least until he was back at the Capitol and could go over everything that had happened the previous evening in his mind alone. “Oh, you proved my source wrong,” he reassured, strapping on his buckle, “Nothing to worry about there.” Even through the headache, Theo could feel the lingering satisfaction from their tryst last night. It’d been far too long and it’d felt good – great, even. He had missed it, but it wasn’t a door he’d been planning on opening back up. Not with all the issues circulating around town. He didn’t need the distraction.
“I just don’t plan on doing this again,” he stated, making an indicative gesture at the disarray of the bedroom. “Sex isn’t on my agenda. Not when raiders are fighting for turf and zombies are right around the corner.” And politicians were arming drug dealers with firearms.
It was also a better reason than trying to explain his viewpoint on friendships and boundaries, and where it’d manifested from. That would spiral into nothing good.
He was a notorious workaholic with few vices to speak of; cigarettes and sex, and that was about it. In the sergeant’s book, there was no reason mutually-consenting friends couldn’t improve each others’ evenings every once and then—just look at him and Sammy. He was good at mentally separating sex from complicated emotions, the two existing independently. He preferred when they did, even.
But he wasn’t going to argue or push the issue, as enjoyable as a repeat would be—this was already fragile territory, and Cal could feel it creaking underfoot. A good night shouldn’t shatter one of his most precious friendships. They couldn’t stand in this hotel room and let it devolve into squabbling over priorities and distractions, risking pushing too hard on this hairline fracture and turning it into a full-blown rift.
He didn’t want to fuck it up.
So after a thoughtful pause, he grabbed his car keys, ID, and handgun. (Everyday necessities in today’s world. He could see Theo’s point, in a certain light.)
“But alright, I got it. Back to the trenches, then.”
As cavalier as he was, Cal knew his assurances that nothing would change were, perhaps, a little optimistic. It was always a slight nagging worry when crossing this bridge: would they be able to go back to joking around about each other, now knowing there was a slight grain of truth in it?
Well. Only time would tell.
And for god’s sake, hopefully Isaac wouldn’t be able to tell that anything had happened.