#!darter

uh-muse-me

Damon could not believe he had let a co-worker slip him alcohol…he also could not believe that the coffee concoction (or concoctions) he was given could taste so good even with alcohol in them.  He had attributed the burn in his throat to the heat of the coffee, which was actually well-prepared for once (though still not nearly as good as when Carter made it).

Damon nearly walked into the wall for about the fifth time that evening.  He flung out a hand to steady himself, casting his eyes about in search of his lover, who had gone to the restroom quite some time ago (and by “quite some time” he meant long enough to trip over nonexistent obstacles on the floor and make an utter fool of himself).  The only thing the professor wanted was to take his gorgeous lover and go home.  Upon spotting the object of his undying affections, he stumbled over to the younger man, pulling him in for a hug.  “We need to leave.”

Carter hadn’t been a lot of attention to the coffee cup in Damon’s hands, since it was a regular site. It hadn’t even occurred to him to wonder if there had been alcohol added. He’d never seen Damon drink so much as a glass of wine.  But clearly, by the way Damon was clinging to him in public, the professor had imbibed. Whether or not by choice was another matter.