#harrisonlanc

Jon: Tf are you talking about?

messy, that was one simple word to describe jon at the moment. his night had been a fucking blast, it was no wonder he shoved powder up his nose back home -- hell he hadn’t a worry in the world. he’d been mouthy of course, he’d been out in the bars and clubs with roman downing drinks and snorting up powder off glass tables and in the bathroom like the many of times back home he’d done just that. but hey, it was doing the one thing jon wanted, and that was to fucking forget about everything that had been said about harrison and him, about harrison and daithi -- which jon was still pretty fucking adamant about talking about because well, his high self found it was important to tell harrison that hey, his assistant was fucking in love with him. maybe that was pushing it, but jon knew he fuckin liked him. nearing six in the morning, jon was just making his way back to their home and he had hoped that harrison had just gone to bed. he was trying to be quiet, but jon was stumbling and making thuds when he leaned against the door as he found his key to open it up. after slamming the door open, jon snickered to himself a bit before he slowly and very (un)quietly shut it behind him, he kicked his shoes off and then leaned back against the wooden frame for just a moment, blue eyes finally shutting for the first time in hours and god it felt good. he felt really up, really up and knowing he probably over digit a bit tonight, jon was sure that he’d be way up for a little longer before his body and mind decided that it was time to sleep. he knew he looked like a wreck, his jacket was hanging off his shoulders, cigarette burns all in his shirt from jon simply not paying attention or just getting way too high and dropping it. he smelled, he was sure, like sweat, cigarettes and more liquor than he could handle harrison would be fucking disgusted had he been awake -- which jon hadn’t realized that in fact, he was awake and had waited on him.

Honestly, just slap me in the face.

I’d probably let you spit on me if you wore this outfit at home.

… it was probably me, you fucking numpty.

Thank you! I’ll be free at night, yeah. After work, if you wanna stop by.