storybroken | [LOCATION: MAIN STREET]

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trip tucker (friar tuck)

[LOCATION: MAIN STREET]

[Trip liked his alcohol. That much everyone knew. Rarely a day went by when he didn't have a drink of some sort. But given the responsibilities of both of his jobs, he rarely got drop dead stinking drunk.

At last call tonight, he'd passed that 5 beers ago. Everything, from Mal's admission then avoiding him to the usual feeling in the pit of his stomach that was somehow made worse by the situation, had come to head and he just hadn't been able to stop.

And now he was walking home through the deserted street, abet slowly and with many detours, so as to avoid the disappointed looks from Leo and Felix. Everything was funny and nothing hurt. For the moment.

And that telephone pole looked fun to swing around right about now.]

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She-what now?

[Even drunk, Trip is polite and grunts his thanks. By the time Mal returns, not much progress has been made. Shoes and socks have made it off but the pants are proving difficult.]

Never mind.

[Once Mal's back, he sets the clothes down on the edge of the sink and picks up a towel so he can start drying off the top half of Trip. From the way he's going through the motions, it's obvious that Mal has done this before, probably to a drunken Chris. When he's done drying the top of him, Mal sighs and looks at Trip.]

Do you need help removing your pants?

Yes please.

[Trip keeps struggling with his pants, getting them down to at least his thighs but it was knees causing the trouble, especially since he was still sitting in the shower stall. And as he wiggled, his boxers started coming down as well.]

[And Mal is just going to go and grab Trip's boxers so they stay on.]

I think I'll do this for you.

[There is a small noise of protest as Mal yanks back up, as he keeps trying to pull his pants down.]

I think...[His eyes started drifting shut and his head leaned against the shower wall.] I think ya might have ya just leave me here....

[He sighs and slaps Trip hard across the face.]

Come on and wake up, Mister Tucker. I need you to stand for me. I can't get you undressed if you're slouched on the floor of the stall.

[Trip starts at the slap and glares at Mal.] What the hell was that for?!

Fine. [He says icily as he tempts to stand and instead pitches forward into Mal.]

[Mal instinctively grabs Trip when he pitches forward and holds him in a sort of awkward hug.]

This is just my luck, isn't it? It wasn't my idea to end up with you in my apartment and stripping you while you're drunk. Of course, if things went the way I wanted them to, you'd still be oblivious of my feelings for you.

[And he's going to finish undressing Trip while on autopilot, not really paying attention to what he's doing. Standing up, he pulls Trip up with him. Even if he's still conscious, Mal's treating him like he's not, just so it's easier for him.]

If I was any other person, I would take advantage of this situation, but I'm not and I wouldn't do that to you. Of course, if I was any other person, I would have left you spinning around the telephone pole. I love you, even if you do get drunk like this, you know.

[He drags Trip out of the shower and sets him down gently so that he can start dressing him, trying his best not to check him out and failing.]

There are reasons why I run away from you and maybe one day if I can get past them and my failures, I can maybe try being friends with you and perhaps more than that. I don't know, maybe I won't. I'm not very good at this, I admit.

[And now he's just going to quickly get Trip dressed and once again pick him up so he can carry him to Mal's bed. Mal puts Trip into his bed and covers him with the sheets, tucking him in like he would a child and then kissing his forehead gently.]

Goodnight, Trip. I hope you sleep better than I will.

[With that, Mal heads off to the other bedroom to go curl up in the hammock and try to get some sleep.]

[At some point during Mal's conversation with himself, Trip passes out. At what part, he wouldn't have been able to tell you since he wasn't going to remember any of this in the morning anyway. But it is of note that the kiss to the forehead causes a small content smile before he curls up into the different but comforting smelling sheets.

The next morning, the first thing Trip knows is pain. He didn't even bother opening his eyes, he just curls into a fetal position around his aching head. Finally, he growls and uncurls, blinking his eyes open as he peers around the strange room he'd woken up in. Where the hell was he? What the hell happened last night?

The pain in his head and the rolling of his stomach reminds him vaguely of what happened re: getting blind stinking drunk and he makes a run for the bathroom.

Finally, after much longer then he'd ever admit that include hugging the toilet and then the sink, he staggers to the door of the bed room and cautiously calls out] Hello?

[Honestly? He's a little afraid of who was going to answer. If anyone answered him at all.]

[ Chris usually doesn't invite himself over to Mal's. Most of the time, it comes after a night of drinking or dinner, neither of which are totally Chris's own idea — it tends to be the only way Mal can convince his cousin to spend time with him, so the excuse is used sparingly.

He usually doesn't invite himself over. Now he finds himself in the kitchen, putting together some sort of breakfast for Mal and himself. It's a delay tactic, pretending everything is all right and that he can call right back into the mundane without facing the descending spiral his life is becoming. Chris isn't the type to acknowledge it, but some part of him just knows that's what it is and he finds that he prefers it over stopping and examining everything else.

So the fact that something already pops out of the woodwork to shake him out of the veneer of normalcy is, well, surprising to say the least. Chris pauses from where he was cutting up the sausage (quietly as possible; he knows how light a sleeper Mal can be) and glances up at the call. ]

... Trip?

[There is a long pause as Trip registers who the voice belongs too. It sounds like...]

Chris? That you?

Where the hell am I?

[He put a hand to his head as he walked toward the voice and fumbled for a chair once he got to the kitchen. Then his head falls to the table and just stays there.]

Well, not my place.

[ It's an automatic answer, a placeholder while he takes in the situation. Trip is at Mal's place. Trip is coming from down the hallway to the bedrooms and not the direction of the living room and Chris is all-too-aware of Mal's interest in Trip. That doesn't mean anything adds up, however. Trip's monster hangover might explain part of it, but not all. ]

You don't know where you are?

Yeah, that's real helpful there.

[His tone is annoyed but Trip couldn't help it. Chris didn't answer his question.]

'course ah don't! Think I woulda asked otherwise? [He lifts his head for a moment to give Chris a half hearted glare before dropping it again.] Last thing I remember was leavin' the bar ta walk home. Then there was somethin' 'bout a telephone pole and...

[Mal. He remembers Mal. But nothing else. Nothing that was said, just that the other man had been there. Trip groans. Shit, how badly had he just fucked everything up?] I remember yer cousin happenin' upon me on his way home an' that's it.

[ Chris takes a detour on the way to the fridge, grabs the kettle from the corner of the counter and begins to fill it in the sink. He glances over his shoulder to keep an eye on Trip as he moves about, not sure he wants to keep him out of sight. ]

That'd make sense. [ The kettle goes on the stove and Chris turns back to the rest of his breakfast ministrations. ] You're in Mal's apartment right now. You sure you don't remember anything that happened after that?

[Trip is content to just sit at the table and hold his bounding head. It is the only way he could answer Chris' questions.]

Not a lick. Ya think I wouldn't know where...

[Then it hits him what Chris has said about where he was. His head comes up quickly, ignoring his headache.]

WHAT?! This is Mal's place? What the hell am I doin' here?! Why the hell would he bring me here if he won't even talk ta me?

[ Chris furrows his brow at Trip's outburst, but only slows slightly as he mulls it over. ]

It's Mal.

[ ... as if that explains why. In a way, it does, only without those very important things called "specifics". ]

What were you saying about a telephone pole?

That don't explain nothin'!

[It didn't! He didn't know anything about Mal, to be honest, and he'd had never had the chance to find out, what with first thinking Mal didn't like him and then having Mal run from him.]

He won't look at me much less talk ta me. How am ah supposed to know anything, huh?

And...ah don't remember anything else. Just the telephone pole.

Trust me, it explains enough.

[ Chris runs a hand through his hair, then goes to retrieve the eggs. ]

Heck of a thing to remember. Where is Mal, anyway?

Maybe to his cousin it does. Ta me it don't.

[He is more just grumbling now as his raised voice had only made his headache throb.]

Hell if I know. If I knew that, I wouldn't a asked where I was. I assume he's in his bed. An' can I say, that spare room is prety dull.

[So dull, so how was he supposed to know it was actually Mal's room.]

There's not many other ways to explain it.

[ Here, Chris raises a brow. ]

What, hammocks are dull now?

For God's sake, try. I'd like ta know somethin' 'bout this man who claims to be in love with me, despite not actually ever talkin' ta me.

[Maybe it was the hangover and accompanying headache but Trip is so tired of this run around that he is just at the end of his rope.]

Hammock? What hammock? Chris, I got a poundin' headache, now ain't the time fer games.

Like what? He's Mal. One of those really smart dumb guys you hear about all the time.

[ Chris leans his hip against the counter, eyes trailing to the kettle. Not whistling yet, but beginning to rattle. ]

No games, Trip. ... not now, anyway. Assuming you're not so hungover that you wouldn't notice climbing out of a hammock this morning, you weren't in the guest room.

At this point, I'd just settle for his favorite color. Smart dumb [He snorts softly] That's puttin' it mildly.

[Trip frowns to himself.] I...wasn't in the guest room?

Red.

Nah, guest room has a hammock. [ Chris just isn't going to mention that the hammock is more than unofficially his... ]

Re...oh. Huh.

The guest room has a hammock. [Trip has to say it and even then it took another minute for it to sink in.] So...I slept in Mal's bed. In his room. An' he must of slept in the guest room.

[There is a loud thunk as his head hit the table. This was getting too confusing. Why was Mal torturing him like this?]

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