JP, Simon, and Warren, backdated
Aug. 11th, 2018 03:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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ax_mainAfter Warren drunkenly fields a call from his father, he goes back to his apartment and starts to sober up... and freak out. Luckily, Simon and JP are there for him, as always.
After a few more bottles of champagne, Warren had bowed out and accepted Shinobi's offer of a car back to his apartment. Normally he would've just stayed at the club, but since Jean-Paul and Simon were in the city tonight, he knew, even through the drunken haze, that he wanted to be with them. He should've gone back as soon as he'd talked to his father, probably, but continued drunkenness seemed necessary at the time, and Warren regretted nothing.
He'd save that for the morning.
In the elevator on the way up, he chugged a bottle of Fuji water from the cooler in Shinobi's car. He was still drunk, but sober in a very different way. A way that made sure he played his father's few and far between words back in his head over and over as he ascended.
The familiar apartment was somewhat comforting. He took a piss first, then made his way to the master bedroom. As expected, Simon and Jean-Paul were sprawled comfortably therein, asleep. It was 3am, so... yeah.
Warren stripped to his shorts, velcro ripping as he freed his wings, and fell into bed on the other side of Simon, who was now in the middle. He planted his face in his pillow and stretched his wings upward. "Mrph."
Jean-Paul stirred, and lifted his head to look at Warren across Simon's back.
"Why the crash landing?" he asked, voice sleep-croaky.
Simon's head jerked up at the sudden weight hitting the bed beside him. He actually started to make a defensive motion, then stopped himself upon seeing the white of wings and...upon smelling champagne. A lot of champagne. "War?" he asked groggily, almost at the same time as Jean-Paul.
Warren turned his head just enough to peek quizzically at Simon with one eye. "Sorry. It was a long night. Dad called. Shinobi answered. Shit is weird."
Another shifting of bodies as the smell of alcohol reached Jean-Paul. He sat up to get a better look at Warren. "Are you actually going to be able to sleep?"
Simon managed a sleepy frown. "Your father called and talked to Shinobi?"
"No," Warren answered Jean-Paul, still half-muffled, and then to Simon, "Yes. Well he didn't want Shinobi, but we thought it'd be funny if Shinobi answered my phone. Sadly, that meant he got a call from his terror of a father a few minutes later, because we're not as funny as we think we are."
Jean-Paul groaned and pushed himself to his feet. "You poor bastards. I'll get coffee started."
Simon was slower to wake, but he managed to sit up, placing a hand on Warren’s shoulder. The unmistakable chemical makeup of champagne was easy to make out within Warren’s blood and nervous system, and he sighed quietly. “How drunk did you two get, and please tell me you took a car service.”
"Super fucking drunk," Warren said, pushing himself up and pulling his knees up beneath him. "At first we were just having fun, but then after talking to our dads we got serious about it while pretending we were still just doing it for fun.
"And yes, Shinobi's driver brought me home." Warren stood and stretched his wings and arms upward. "Ughhhh."
Jean-Paul pulled his briefs on and headed for the kitchen. "Whatever made your father break his silence, I'm guessing it wasn't happy news. What happened?"
Simon motioned blearily toward Jean-Paul, but continued to do a silent exam of his fairer boyfriend, just to make sure he hadn’t overdone it. “What he said.”
Warren helped Simon up and they started after JP. "He didn't say, exactly. Except that he wants to see me next week. Friday morning. I think he meant Friday, anyhow..."
"Well, that's ominous." Jean-Paul filled the coffee maker and let it get to work. "Want anyone along for moral support?"
Simon strolled sleepily into the kitchen in a pair of navy blue sleep pants, his hair tousled in a way it rarely was. Bypassing the brewing coffee, he pulled an energy drink out of the fridge and found a bottle of ibuprofen in a drawer, taking both to Warren. The coffee was fine for himself and Jean-Paul, but Warren needed the rehydration and electrolytes provided by the Gatorade.
"Thanks, you're the best." Warren popped the pills and swallowed them with a gulp of Gatorade. "I mean, yes, I want moral support, but also no, because I would never put you guys through the trauma of my parents. He said 'us' so I'm guessing Mom will be there too."
Jean-Paul frowned. "I've already wrecked my career, remember? What's the worst they can do besides be
dipshits?"
“I’ve been through so much trauma at this point, your parents are the least of my worries,” Simon murmured in agreement. “Whatever you need, Warren, we’re there.”
Warren blew a sigh upwards, sending bangs flying. "True--sounds like yours are at least as bad as mine. I... gotta admit I'd like it if you guys were nearby. Maybe not even the waiting room, but... the coffee shop downstairs or something. If it's not too much?" Warren felt weirdly small, asking, even though it was offered.
There was something about Simon's rebuttal that snagged at Jean-Paul's attention like a hangnail catching cloth, but between the crisis of the moment and his sleepy state, it didn't keep.
"We'll be in the room with you if that's what you want," Jean-Paul promised. "But if you'd rather we be clear of the immediate fallout, the coffee shop isn't too much to ask."
Simon offered a slight nod. "We'll be there. If anything happens, you can either text us to come up, or meet us downstairs."
"It might be over quicker if I just go in and out on my own... but I've got a feeling I'll need some hugs after." Warren frowned at his Gatorade. "Or to get laid. At both ends.
"One then the other, probably."
Jean-Paul padded over and slid an arm around Warren's waist. "I think we can manage some after-care."
“You don’t think it will be that bad, do you? My father generally ices me out when it’s bad. He doesn’t schedule meetings,” Simon told him.
Warren bumped his head into JP’s slightly before nodding at Simon. “You might be right. Though—I’m not sure how good anything can be, from him. I wanna be back in the will, I want what’s mine, but I’ve kinda gotten used to not answering to them.” And that was the bitch of it, though Warren wouldn’t have thought it possible as much as six months ago even, probably.
Simon gave him a sympathetic look. "You know that's not sustainable."
Jean-Paul nodded. "Simon's right. I mean, your parents can go suck a necrotic cock, but if you're trying to get back in dad's good graces, you probably can't tell them so to their faces."
Warren barked out a laugh at JP's singular way of putting things. Goddamn he loved these boys. "No. No, I really can't. Though the looks on their faces would be priceless."
"Maybe after you have your own finance control," Simon smirked softly.
Loved them so much. Warren wished he could tell them more often--but hell. They knew. Warren's laugh went easier. "Let's hope that's on the menu.
"Thanks guys. I mean, I know I don't need to thank you but--thank you."
"Yeah, idiot. It's because we love you." Jean-Paul gave him another squeeze and went back to the coffee. "It's nice to be appreciated, though."
Simon moved to lean next to Warren, giving him a soft, sleepy smile. "You'll appreciate me even more if you finish that Gatorade before you go to bed."
"I will." Warren kissed Simon's cheek. "But I think bed isn't happening. I might have to just power through with that pot of coffee. You guys go ahead, though, seriously. I'll just binge watch something."
Jean-Paul traded a long-suffering look with Simon. "You see why I call him an idiot, hm?"
"You think I'm arguing?" Simon sighed and slipped an arm around Warren's waist, below his wings, and leaned in to brush a kiss behind his ear. "We'll stay up with you."
"Or all fall asleep on the couch watching Altered Carbon," Warren said hopefully, rubbing his head against Simon's like a cat, though his wings said otherwise.
After a few more bottles of champagne, Warren had bowed out and accepted Shinobi's offer of a car back to his apartment. Normally he would've just stayed at the club, but since Jean-Paul and Simon were in the city tonight, he knew, even through the drunken haze, that he wanted to be with them. He should've gone back as soon as he'd talked to his father, probably, but continued drunkenness seemed necessary at the time, and Warren regretted nothing.
He'd save that for the morning.
In the elevator on the way up, he chugged a bottle of Fuji water from the cooler in Shinobi's car. He was still drunk, but sober in a very different way. A way that made sure he played his father's few and far between words back in his head over and over as he ascended.
The familiar apartment was somewhat comforting. He took a piss first, then made his way to the master bedroom. As expected, Simon and Jean-Paul were sprawled comfortably therein, asleep. It was 3am, so... yeah.
Warren stripped to his shorts, velcro ripping as he freed his wings, and fell into bed on the other side of Simon, who was now in the middle. He planted his face in his pillow and stretched his wings upward. "Mrph."
Jean-Paul stirred, and lifted his head to look at Warren across Simon's back.
"Why the crash landing?" he asked, voice sleep-croaky.
Simon's head jerked up at the sudden weight hitting the bed beside him. He actually started to make a defensive motion, then stopped himself upon seeing the white of wings and...upon smelling champagne. A lot of champagne. "War?" he asked groggily, almost at the same time as Jean-Paul.
Warren turned his head just enough to peek quizzically at Simon with one eye. "Sorry. It was a long night. Dad called. Shinobi answered. Shit is weird."
Another shifting of bodies as the smell of alcohol reached Jean-Paul. He sat up to get a better look at Warren. "Are you actually going to be able to sleep?"
Simon managed a sleepy frown. "Your father called and talked to Shinobi?"
"No," Warren answered Jean-Paul, still half-muffled, and then to Simon, "Yes. Well he didn't want Shinobi, but we thought it'd be funny if Shinobi answered my phone. Sadly, that meant he got a call from his terror of a father a few minutes later, because we're not as funny as we think we are."
Jean-Paul groaned and pushed himself to his feet. "You poor bastards. I'll get coffee started."
Simon was slower to wake, but he managed to sit up, placing a hand on Warren’s shoulder. The unmistakable chemical makeup of champagne was easy to make out within Warren’s blood and nervous system, and he sighed quietly. “How drunk did you two get, and please tell me you took a car service.”
"Super fucking drunk," Warren said, pushing himself up and pulling his knees up beneath him. "At first we were just having fun, but then after talking to our dads we got serious about it while pretending we were still just doing it for fun.
"And yes, Shinobi's driver brought me home." Warren stood and stretched his wings and arms upward. "Ughhhh."
Jean-Paul pulled his briefs on and headed for the kitchen. "Whatever made your father break his silence, I'm guessing it wasn't happy news. What happened?"
Simon motioned blearily toward Jean-Paul, but continued to do a silent exam of his fairer boyfriend, just to make sure he hadn’t overdone it. “What he said.”
Warren helped Simon up and they started after JP. "He didn't say, exactly. Except that he wants to see me next week. Friday morning. I think he meant Friday, anyhow..."
"Well, that's ominous." Jean-Paul filled the coffee maker and let it get to work. "Want anyone along for moral support?"
Simon strolled sleepily into the kitchen in a pair of navy blue sleep pants, his hair tousled in a way it rarely was. Bypassing the brewing coffee, he pulled an energy drink out of the fridge and found a bottle of ibuprofen in a drawer, taking both to Warren. The coffee was fine for himself and Jean-Paul, but Warren needed the rehydration and electrolytes provided by the Gatorade.
"Thanks, you're the best." Warren popped the pills and swallowed them with a gulp of Gatorade. "I mean, yes, I want moral support, but also no, because I would never put you guys through the trauma of my parents. He said 'us' so I'm guessing Mom will be there too."
Jean-Paul frowned. "I've already wrecked my career, remember? What's the worst they can do besides be
dipshits?"
“I’ve been through so much trauma at this point, your parents are the least of my worries,” Simon murmured in agreement. “Whatever you need, Warren, we’re there.”
Warren blew a sigh upwards, sending bangs flying. "True--sounds like yours are at least as bad as mine. I... gotta admit I'd like it if you guys were nearby. Maybe not even the waiting room, but... the coffee shop downstairs or something. If it's not too much?" Warren felt weirdly small, asking, even though it was offered.
There was something about Simon's rebuttal that snagged at Jean-Paul's attention like a hangnail catching cloth, but between the crisis of the moment and his sleepy state, it didn't keep.
"We'll be in the room with you if that's what you want," Jean-Paul promised. "But if you'd rather we be clear of the immediate fallout, the coffee shop isn't too much to ask."
Simon offered a slight nod. "We'll be there. If anything happens, you can either text us to come up, or meet us downstairs."
"It might be over quicker if I just go in and out on my own... but I've got a feeling I'll need some hugs after." Warren frowned at his Gatorade. "Or to get laid. At both ends.
"One then the other, probably."
Jean-Paul padded over and slid an arm around Warren's waist. "I think we can manage some after-care."
“You don’t think it will be that bad, do you? My father generally ices me out when it’s bad. He doesn’t schedule meetings,” Simon told him.
Warren bumped his head into JP’s slightly before nodding at Simon. “You might be right. Though—I’m not sure how good anything can be, from him. I wanna be back in the will, I want what’s mine, but I’ve kinda gotten used to not answering to them.” And that was the bitch of it, though Warren wouldn’t have thought it possible as much as six months ago even, probably.
Simon gave him a sympathetic look. "You know that's not sustainable."
Jean-Paul nodded. "Simon's right. I mean, your parents can go suck a necrotic cock, but if you're trying to get back in dad's good graces, you probably can't tell them so to their faces."
Warren barked out a laugh at JP's singular way of putting things. Goddamn he loved these boys. "No. No, I really can't. Though the looks on their faces would be priceless."
"Maybe after you have your own finance control," Simon smirked softly.
Loved them so much. Warren wished he could tell them more often--but hell. They knew. Warren's laugh went easier. "Let's hope that's on the menu.
"Thanks guys. I mean, I know I don't need to thank you but--thank you."
"Yeah, idiot. It's because we love you." Jean-Paul gave him another squeeze and went back to the coffee. "It's nice to be appreciated, though."
Simon moved to lean next to Warren, giving him a soft, sleepy smile. "You'll appreciate me even more if you finish that Gatorade before you go to bed."
"I will." Warren kissed Simon's cheek. "But I think bed isn't happening. I might have to just power through with that pot of coffee. You guys go ahead, though, seriously. I'll just binge watch something."
Jean-Paul traded a long-suffering look with Simon. "You see why I call him an idiot, hm?"
"You think I'm arguing?" Simon sighed and slipped an arm around Warren's waist, below his wings, and leaned in to brush a kiss behind his ear. "We'll stay up with you."
"Or all fall asleep on the couch watching Altered Carbon," Warren said hopefully, rubbing his head against Simon's like a cat, though his wings said otherwise.
no subject
Date: 2018-09-21 11:11 pm (UTC)Seriously, though, very good log. And that line!
no subject
Date: 2018-09-24 12:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2018-09-28 02:01 am (UTC)And I love how much these boys support each other.