asher_talos | (no subject)

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stephen colbert

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[continued from here]

"Doubt it thinks the same," Asher said, and it's still a little odd to consider a godforsaken spit of land capable of thought, but not doing so would likely just enrage it...

He watched as Stephen continued to sulk -- was that what he looked like when he did it? -- drowning his sorrows. He's been there long enough to know it didn't help. Nothing really did. It did dumb it down a bit, though, and that was enough incentive to do it. Unfortunately, he was tapped out.

Adjusting his cap, Asher presumed to crawl his way on top of Stephen, straddling him at the waist and helping himself to the man's drink, downing what was left and simply tossing the cup over his shoulder once he'd finished. "I don't have a mat either," he said, managing to sound completely casual despite the situation.

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It was a seriously good thing that Stephen was drunk, because he had the attention span of, well, a drunk man. So while his eyes widened at Asher, now...on top of him, the first thing he said was:

"You stole my drink!" That was his! He looked at the air over Asher's shoulder as if watching where the cup went, and wiggled a bit to try to move out from under Asher, because this was just a little weird.

Asher grumbled in frustration, his head sagging, chin nearly hitting his chest. This man was a complete idiot. Had he been in possession of a weaker ego, he might have felt slightly rejected, but as things were, he was just annoyed that the alcohol was the issue here. "Tasted like shit anyway. I did you a favor."

That was his argument and he was sticking to it. And favors were meant to be returned.

Stephen shook his head a little, trying to clear it. He had liked the damn alcohol. So he may have returned to sulking a little as he pushed up on his elbows and decided to poke Asher on the knee. "Comfortable?"

He was not thinking at all about other times he had been in such a position.

"Can't complain," Asher said with an easy shrug. "You?" He could at least pretend that he cared.

No, Stephen was pretty damn uncomfortable. He was starting to get a bad feeling about the situation, and when he laughed, it sounded a bit more nervous than he would have liked. "Oh, yeah. I should do my radio show like this."

"That could be arranged," Asher offered helpfully with a predatory smile.

The booze may have tasted like shit, but it did what it was meant to. Not that Asher had any qualms with being forward when sober; Stephen was just less irritating when things were somewhat hazy. It almost made it possible to forget that he was the one responsible for the stupid wedding in the first place.

If Stephen squinted, he could almost see Asher's long-lost fangs. And he kind of really wished that he hadn't had so much to drink because as cool as vampires were, he really should not have been having Thoughts about the damn fangs that weren't even there.

"I'm not sure how that--I'm straight," Stephen finally said, because there was only so many suggestive comments he could ignore. He was really much better at that when sober.

"That an attempt to convince yourself or convince me?" He asked. Asher was obviously pretty unconvinced by the statement, though he did nod, if only to humor him. Grabbing Stephen by the tie, he pulled him up and off us his elbows. "Me, too. Completely straight."

And when he leaned forward and kissed him, Stephen could then rest assured that it wasn't a queer thing at all. Nothing queer about a kiss between two self-proclaimed 'straight' men.

And Stephen would have been only too happy to inform Asher that he did not have to convince himself, because he knew all along that he was straight, ever since that one year. He really would have liked to answer the question in detail, even, but he found that he couldn't.

Because Asher was kissing him. And that wasn't all that straight at all and Stephen did not kiss guys except for that handful of times but that was different because of...many reasons. He couldn't remember them now - he was drunk, dammit, and that was absolutely the reason he didn't shove Asher away and run like hell.

Breaking the kiss, Asher had Stephen's bottom lip lightly clamped between his teeth before letting go. He made sure to keep a firm grip on his tie, just in case the idiot decided to tip over again.

"Still straight?" Asher asked against his ear and it had nothing to do with some self-absorbed idea that he had the power to kiss guys queer. If anything, it was a question meant to mock the very notion of Stephen supposed heterosexuality. Everyone had their delusions.

After a pause, "Of course!" and if his voice cracked just a little bit, that didn't mean anything. What a stupid question; as if a stupid little kiss was going to threaten Stephen's very...firm...grip on his heterosexuality. He glanced down at his tie.

Skeptical eyebrows rose, practically reaching up into Asher's hairline and he was half tempted to crawl after the cup he'd discarded to if it had been spiked with a heavy dose of stupid. "This place must be fun for you..."

A person that deluded and capable of existing in some state of permanent repression could probably make this place seem like heaven. "Fine. You're straight as an arrow."

Actually, the place was not fun for Stephen. He always knew he would be a Find for the Gays and their urge to convert innocent straight people. This island clearly proved it.

However, all he said was, "Thank you, I am." Then, because it looked like the gay happenings of this encounter were ending, and because Stephen was still pretty damn intoxicated, he thought he could give a good distraction. To Asher, not himself. He sure didn't need a distraction from anything, and definitely not from the way Asher was right there on him.

"Look," he said, a little crazed. He folded over the tip of his right ear, pushed it inside. Then he held up one finger as if to say Wait! There's more!, and winked. Out popped the ear, back to normal.

Asher blinked. He probably couldn't have looked more thoroughly unimpressed it he had tried to.

"I kiss you and you subject me to crazy pet tricks...?"

Suddenly, he wished he had his gun. Not for Stephen, but himself.

"Stupid human tricks, I believe it would be," Stephen said defensively. He was currently holding himself up with both hands on the ground, which he suddenly realized put him awfully close to Asher, still. Well, that was uncomfortable. He didn't know what to do, he hated not knowing what to do; so he shut his eyes as if that would help, as if that would make Asher leave, as if that would make Stephen's stupid stupid body behave.

Edited 2008-04-24 20:23 (UTC)

"I know what I meant; I meant pet. But we'll keep the 'stupid' part, if you insist." It was better than 'crazy'. Much more fitting.

"...what the fuck are you doing now?" Oh, God, was he praying? Or possibly falling asleep? Asher hoped for the latter...

Dammit, it didn't work. Stephen made a noise of utter frustration before cracking an eye open. "Closing my eyes," he said, going for the obvious. There was no reason to volunteer information or call attention to things or hey, even to wonder why the hell his hand was suddenly on Asher's knee again.

'Cause he was drunk.

"Well, yeah, no shit Sherlock." It was kinda hard to fucking miss that when he was sitting directly in front of the guy, staring at the strange display. "Why?"

God, it was like being interrogated by the torturers that did not in any way actually exist because America did not torture. The guy just would not let up!

If Stephen were not about to have a heart attack, he would have been impressed.

Instead of answering, he tugged at his collar and said, "Is it hot out here? It seems hot out here."

"Nah, it's just me," Asher quipped with a smirk. Of course, it could have very well have just been the fact that they were on a fucking desert island, but he preferred his answer.

Stephen gave an overly-loud laugh. "You, sir--you are hilarious." His fingers began tapping out a beat on Asher's leg and he thought he maybe needed more alcohol.

"Don't call me sir," Asher said, glaring.

There's suddenly an image of Stephen, members of the IPD and one of these Bad Touch dolls in Asher's head. He laughs incredulously, shifting off of Stephen a moment later and retaking his seat against the tree trunk in much the same position he'd been in earlier.

"You can go now."

Thank God. Stephen wasn't sure how he did it, but he was free! Sure, he wasn't off and running away, but that was only because he was gathering his wits. One had to rest, after all, no one wanted to jump up and go into cardiac arrest because they were in a hurry.

Of course, none of that explained why Stephen said what he said.

"We'll continue this later."

It was only when he was nearly back to the compound when he realized how that must have sounded.

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