Aramis is an alcoholic. Sorry. (amongthebravest) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2014-11-23 22:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, aramis, sharon carter |
Who: Aramis and Sharon Carter.
When: Oct 18, night time.
Where: Side of the road, Sharon’s place.
What: Drunken shenanigans.
Rating/Warnings: PG-ish / Some language, drinking, and a fade-to-black.
Status: Complete.
Fucking Remy LeBeau. Sharon forced him to pull the car over, let her out, and she’d slammed the door behind herself. Then her phone was out, and she was calling the first person she thought of. Okay, so he was actually number three. Athos and D’Artagnan were out, since they were back at the housewarming party. And Peggy was… well, Sharon didn’t want to let her cousin in on this. She felt embarrassed, and that made her even more angry. Angry at Remy, angry at herself.
She put the phone to her ear, ignoring Remy rolling along beside her on the street, trying to convince her to get back in the car. The person she called was Aramis. She walked briskly along the sidewalk as it rang, and prayed for him to pick up.
The party had been nice. Aramis was genuinely happy for D’Artagnan and Athos. He was happy they were his friends, happy they had found one another, and happy that things were finally settling down for the two of them. They deserved it, he knew it, and he was honoured to be a part of that even for a bit. But it was the picture of domesticity, with all their friends around and everyone being delightful and nice, and despite himself, it had planted a seed of panic in the back of his brain. By the time he got home, he very much wanted his space.
Stretched out on the bed in the guest room, Aramis was reading when his phone went off. He glanced over and frowned to see Sharon’s name pop up, immediately assuming it was work related. “Sharon?” he said, answering the phone and sitting up. “What is it? Is everything all right?”
"Hey, Aramis," Sharon spoke into the receiver. There was a little wind as she walked, making the audio crackle just a bit. As she spoke, the pain and anger in her voice were more than obvious. "No, not really. I need a ride. Can you come pick me up?" It wasn't exactly begging, but it came close. Pleading, more like.
Sharon hated to have to ask it of him, but she felt like she was caught between a rock and a hard place. She didn't want to have to walk all the way home with Remy's car rolling slowly alongside her, but she would if she had to. She'd much rather get away from him. And he didn't seem to be going anywhere.
He frowned as he heard her talk, already getting up to find a sweater to throw on. “Yes. Yes, of course,” Aramis told her. He shuffled the phone around as he put on the sweater, and paused for a moment. He decided he’d text Porthos in a moment rather than tell him he was going. “Where are you? What happened?”
Sharon glanced up at the nearest street signs, then read them aloud to Aramis on the phone. A quick glance over to the street told her that Remy was still there in his car, following her. Keeping her safe? Trying to prove a point? That she needed him? Whatever.
"But I'm headed west, and walking fast," she added, into the receiver. Then she sighed angrily, balling her free fist and shoving it into a pocket. "Remy happened. I need a Drink. A strong one."
“Ah,” was all he said, in a very knowing manner. “Yes, well, I’ll head to that intersection, and then carry on west, and eventually I’ll see you, yes? If you duck in some place, let me know?”
Aramis tugged on his shoes and grabbed his keys, heading to his car. “I’ll see you shortly,” he told her. Once he hung up the phone, Aramis headed followed his GPS directions to the streets Sharon had named, then, true to his word, began to drive west.
“Yeah, all right,” Sharon responded. She wasn’t planning on ducking in anywhere--Remy might get out of his car and follow. She gave a quick “thanks” before hanging up, pocketing her phone, and quickening her pace. Her arms folded across her chest in a weary, angry way, ignoring Remy for a few more minutes. The anger inside her was ebbing, the hurt was taking over.
Another set of headlights finally cast her shadow far in front of her on the ground and Sharon stopped in her tracks to turn and look, praying that it was Aramis’ car. She took a couple of hopeful steps toward the oncoming vehicle (staying on the sidewalk, obviously).
When he saw her, Aramis rolled to a stop and leaned over to unlock the passenger door. Whatever had happened between her and Remy must have been awful, he thought, but he wouldn’t bring it up unless she did. To make sure that she knew it was him, he unrolled the passenger door window to wave at her.
There was a look of relief that spread across her face as Sharon saw Aramis through the car window. She was still ignoring Remy as she climbed into his car. She pulled her seatbelt on and sighed. “Thanks for the ride. I definitely owe you one.”
Remy had really pissed her off. She was more thankful than she could say for the distraction and for the ride. Though, she needed a Drink. A strong one.
Aramis snorted. “You don’t owe me anything. What are friends for.” He glanced at the car which he could only assume was Remy’s, then did a u-turn to drive off the other way.
“Do you want to go somewhere? Or back to yours for that drink?”
“Home, please,” Sharon said, turning to give him what she could muster of a smile. She was still pretty upset about what Remy had said. She wasn’t crazy. Remy was the fucking crazy one. “I don’t know why I put up with it. I don’t know why I put myself in the position to be hurt over and over again. Maybe I am crazy.”
Aramis gave her a vague smile in returned, then hummed a bit as he shrugged an arm. “We, as people, I believe, are gluttons for punishment. And in any case I’ve never even tried to pretend I understand what love is. It generally turns bad. I’m riding it out until things go south.”
Reaching over, Aramis gave her shoulder a quick squeeze as he drove. He wondered if Remy would be stupid enough to follow them. He certainly wouldn’t hesitate to punch the man if that was the case. When they got to Sharon’s, Aramis went around to open her door. “Just so you know, I’m here as you long as you need me to be.”
Riding it out until things go south sounded exactly like what Sharon was doing with Remy. And she was pretty sure that tonight was the things going south part. She lifted her hand to pat his on her shoulder in a friendly and reassuring way. She wasn’t sure what she would have done had it not been for Aramis.
The ride back to her place wasn’t long, and, thankfully, Remy wasn’t anywhere in sight. She climbed out, giving him a gentle ‘thank you’ before pulling out her keys and heading up the path to her place. “I’ll make coffee. Maybe with something a little stronger than cream stirred in.”
“A woman after my own heart,” Aramis quipped, placing a hand fondly over his chest. “Honestly, if you want to hold the coffee part I’d be fine with that. Much as I enjoyed myself earlier, it was so …” He wasn’t sure what to say. Instead, he shrugged, admiring Sharon’s home as he followed her inside.
Sharon’s place was sparsely decorated. As in, barely decorated at all. She had a potted plant under the window, and a couch, and a television… and a ridiculously old dog named Pete. The latter came climbing up from his bed, his tail wagging frantically, and whimpered as he reached Sharon and Aramis. He was a Terrier mix, and was very friendly.
“Good. Brewing coffee takes time.” She didn’t want to waste time she could be drinking on finding filters and grinding beans. (Or, okay, using a K-Cup in her Keurig machine.) She grabbed a bottle from the cupboard, completely ignoring the dog as she moved through the kitchen.
Pete didn’t care, he was too busy greeting Aramis.
In turn, Aramis greeted Pete. He was reminded of the fact that Porthos very much wanted to get a dog, a thought which made Aramis’s stomach do strange gymnastics that didn’t make him feel great. Abandoning the dog, he followed Sharon instead.
“So. What, exactly, happened? You two seemed fine at the party earlier.”
Pete wasn’t offended. He wandered back over to his bed to lay down. His hip was bothering him, anyway, and Sharon would be over to turn on his heating pad any minute now.
Sharon was busy pouring far too much hard liquor into glasses. She held one out for Aramis to take. “He called me some nutter. He said he didn’t want to get stuck in a relationship with some nutter.” She gulped from the glass, wincing a bit as the hard liquor burned its way down her throat.
“Hmm.” Taking the glass, Aramis took a long sip, not at all affected by the burn of it. “At least he warned you, yeah? All mine just leave without any explanation. I’d rather get a little bit of a heads up, truth be told.”
He took another drink, leaning against the counter. “Why him, anyway? For you, I mean. He’s a bit …” Well, he reminded Aramis a bit of himself, but more extreme. “You know what he’s like. It’s an odd pair.”
“I should have known better. I mean, I did know better. I knew what kind of a man he was before he and I started… whatever this is.” Dating? Maybe. That’s what they were doing, right? Sharon didn’t know anymore. And she wasn’t sure she cared. She gulped again from the glass.
“Let’s just drink and talk about something happy.”
“Happy.” Aramis hummed a bit. “I’m not sure what I could possibly talk about.” Which was a bit funny. Aramis always had something easy to say to diffuse a situation. He rolled his tongue around his mouth a little.
“Did you know there’s a place in Los Angeles that does macarons, but as ice cream sandwiches? It sounds like absolute Heaven.”
Sharon gave a gasp. “Shut. Up. That’s it. We’re going.” She grinned a little, glad for the subject change. Though, she didn’t want to go right now. Just, eventually. When she wasn’t drinking.
“They have everything up there in LA, don’t they?” Another gulp. Sharon was on a roll.
“Have I ever told you how much I love macarons?” Aramis raised his eyebrows. “I would likely sell my soul to the devil for them. I always have pistachio ones stashed all around the house.” He grinned as he took another drink, then he took the liberty of topping up both of their glasses.
“They also have a nutella pizza somewhere. I’ll get proper addresses. We’ll do a full foodie tour.”
“That’s… probably the best idea ever.” Sharon grinned, starting to feel warm in her chest from the alcohol. She let him top off her glass, and then lifted it for a sip. A gulp. Whatever. Funny how the more you drank the easier it was to drink.
“Nutella pizza? How do you know all of these amazing things?” Sharon asked, then kicked off her shoes and took her hair down out of its constricting band. That felt better.
“If I told you, my darling, I would without a doubt need to kill you.” He tipped his head and made a motion with his hand, as if tipping an invisible hat on his head.
Sharon gave a little laugh. “Well, so long as I can still benefit from all of these amazing things without knowing them myself…” She shrugged, then lifted her glass for another gulp. She’d have to slow down soon. But not yet. Soon.
She took hold of Aramis’ arm. “Let’s go sit.”
Aramis grabbed the bottle before they left the kitchen, then dutifully followed Sharon. As he sat on the couch, he toed off his own shoes, and ran a hand through his hair. “I assure you that, so long as you ask, you will always benefit from my expertise.”
He held up his glass in a toast and downed what was left, then filled it up. He filled Sharon’s, too, not wanting to seem ungentlemanly. “Cheers.”
Now that felt flirtatious. A little. Or maybe Sharon was reading too much into things. In either case, she downed what was left in her glass and then held it out so he could fill it up, too. Then she settled back against the sofa pillows, shoulder bumped up against his. “So, I’m working on a new case.” She said, swirling the liquid around the glass.
It probably was, a little. Though that was Aramis’ default mode, and, admittedly, sometimes he didn’t even realize he was doing it. It was just something he’d learned over time that made life much more easier than if he didn’t have it.
“Oh?” Aramis looked at her, interested in what it might be. He, sadly, had nothing. “More drug lords this time? Or something entirely different altogether?”
“Something different. Human Trafficking. I think I’m being loaned out to different law enforcement agencies when business at the Agency is slow. So it seems, anyway.” At least Sharon was good at these sorts of things. It was related to what she was up to when she was undercover in New York. She didn’t really care. She gulped from the glass again.
“You think we should work together?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. “You think you could stand being partnered with some nutter?”
He flashed her an amused look. “Believe me when I say that I’ve dealt with people much nuttier than you,” Aramis teased. He gave her a light nudge to the side with his elbow, then rested his arm along the back of the couch so he didn’t feel so cramped up. As much as he would have liked to say, yes, he’d love to help her out, he wasn’t sure what Hydra’s plans with him were.
“I’ll check my schedule,” Aramis told her. He said it with a pleasant little smirk and a nearly flippant tone that made it seem as if he could be still teasing.
Sharon gave a little laugh that she might not have laughed had she been sober. In fact, Sharon was full of ideas that would probably have never come up if she hadn’t had as much to drink as she had. She nudged him back, then on a whim she scooted over a little and settled under his arm. “Good. You check your schedule and get back to me. Until then… we’ll have to find an interesting way to occupy ourselves.” She wanted a distraction. Something to take her mind completely off Remy, though it was close to being there already.
There wasn’t very much that went through Aramis’s head. Or, at the very least, it wasn’t entirely complicated. Here was a beautiful woman tucking herself up against him, who was, as far as he looked, being no more coy than he himself was. He thought about Porthos, he thought about Remy a little bit, too, and mostly he thought about how perfectly needed and wanted he was at that moment.
“Oh? And what sort of things do you find interesting, Miss Carter?” Aramis took a long drink, then held the now empty glass in the tips of his fingers. “So that I can compromise my own interests accordingly.”
Sharon would later blame it on the alcohol, but in truth it was partially Aramis' fault that she wasn't thinking about Remy or Porthos or anyone else. He smelled good. How was he so handsome and so good-smelling and everything? She finished the last of her drink, then set the empty glass aside on the sofa.
"I find all sorts of things interesting." Sharon said, turning to look up at him over his shoulder. "I'm sure if we put our heads together, we can think of something that interests us both."
Being old-hat at this sort of thing, Aramis slipped all too easily into his role. Come morning, he’d regret not thinking about Sharon and the consequences that might follow, but that was morning, and it was a long way off yet.
“Sharon, there is very little more I would like most in the world than that very thing.” He leaned over her in a way that was unfairly graceful to grab her glass. “Would you like another?”
“Yes, please.” Sharon said. She didn’t need another. And tomorrow morning she would likely regret having another. But in this moment she wanted another. Actually, she wanted anything Aramis wanted to give her. He was close. She was warm under his arm. Her own arm snaked down around his middle and she cuddled closer, pressing her face into his shoulder. (His chest? His collarbone? That part.)
Gently, Aramis removed himself from Sharon. He ran his hand along Sharon’s arm, until he was holding her hand in his fingers, and he pressed a fleeting kiss to her knuckles. “I’ll be back in hardly a moment.” He grabbed both of their glasses and the empty bottle, returning to the kitchen to find something else for them to start on.
Sharon gave him a warm look. Smile. Thing. She stood after he did, and followed him into the kitchen. There were plenty of things in the kitchen to start on. Sharon motioned to the cabinet where the liquor was kept. She wasn’t much of a drinker, but every time she wanted to make a mixed drink it involved things she didn’t have. There were a lot of nearly-full bottles in there. She should probably switch to bread and water. But Sharon wasn’t thinking about more drinking. She was thinking about how nice his hand felt along her arm. How handsome he looked tonight. How she just wanted to feel good. “Something sweet?” She suggested.
"My darling, I am certain you're already sweet enough." But Aramis found, hidden in among the various bottles, some wine and in her fridge he found some juice. He poured them together into a very makeshift sangria.
"For the lady," he said, handing one over.
Hey, it worked. Sharon accepted the glass and stepped closer to him, breaking into a small, flirtatious smile. “Are you really certain?” she was laying it on a little thick now, but that was probably because of the alcohol. And because Aramis was just so handsome and kind. “Maybe you should find out for sure.”
Aramis’ lips curved up into an amused but soft smile. Leaning in, he nuzzled just slightly at the corner of her mouth, then pressed a light kiss to the same spot. “I seem to be correct. As usual.”
Sharon’s eyes fluttered closed at the kiss. Her drink was set on the counter behind her. She lifted one arm up to rest her hand on his shoulder. “Suddenly I’m not thirsty anymore.” She commented softly, and leaned up and in to return his kiss with one of her own.
It didn’t take long for Aramis to react. This was something he was very good at, and Sharon was very beautiful and he wanted her to know that she was. He stepped in, hedging her in against the counter with his hands on either side, kissing her with more purpose.
It was nice. Turning her brain off was exactly what she wanted to do. The kisses were returned with drunken hunger. Her knees went slightly weak, and her hands tangled in his hair. Though, she didn’t want things to end in the kitchen. She wanted more. “...come with me.” She whispered against his lips. Then she took hold of one of his hands, and turned to lead him to her bedroom.