#p:ricky

There was a time and a place to wear flashy clothes that drew attention to you in a bar, but Ricky recognized that this wasn't one of them. Driving through still-snowy streets, bass thumping, he idly ran a hand down the warm denim and soft flannel he'd grabbed from his closet on the way out the door. Reza wasn't one to ask for things, which made his request for a drunken night someone concerning. But as he pulled into the parking lot of Mystery Loves Company and raised his hand in a wave he hoped that the somewhat quiet night of heavy drinking he had planned would be what his new friend was looking for. They both knew so many secrets about each other that he didn't want to fuck up and piss Reza off in any way.

Reza stood in the cold, face damp from the snow, and waited. Tried his best not to think and failed every few seconds, unwanted thoughts crawling their way into his head. One voice in particular hadn't stopped nagging him since Neven had revealed the truth, a voice Reza had been successfully ceeping out for the past few weeks. Until now. ​Way to go. Found yourself an even uglier monster, one that would kill you without blinking. And it doesn't even have fangs, pity...​ Ricky's car thankfully pulled up and Reza stormed over, slamming the door behind him when he got in. "Hey," he muttered before turning up the volume, bass now even heavier. At least the music drowned out his head.

The minute Reza hopped into the jeep and cranked the volume on the dubstep that had already been pretty loud (even by mostly-deaf Selkie standards) Ricky knew some shit was up. But he also remembered his promise not to ask questions and instead lowered the volume just long enough to make a phone call. "Hey. Chris. It's Cordero. Remember when your gogo dancer didn't show up last Friday and I hopped my ass into some skimpy Andrew Christians and danced all night? And remember when I took your sister out on a pity date even though we both know I'm gay as hell? Imma need to call in those favors. Clear out that corner booth in the back. It's mine tonight. Yeah yeah yeah save it for when you don't owe me." Hanging up the call he cranked the volume back up, reaching over to squeeze Reza's shoulder before he continued driving. Eventually they pulled up to Flaming Mo's and bypassed the extensive line, Ricky leading them to a secluded corner booth with a reserved sign on it "Guarantee the only person who's gonna bother us is the waitress. What're you drinking?"

Reza was grateful that he'd chosen Ricky, who according to plan asked no questions and allowed Reza to blast music until his ears ached. A part of his brain registered the gogo dancing comment and under different circumstances, he would have commented on it, but not tonight. ​Run away from your problems like you always do. Maybe get someone else killed while you're at it...​ the whispers continued before they were once again drowned out by the blaring tunes. Tensing under the squeeze, feeling even worse now with Ricky by his side, being the decent human being he was and bringing such a stark contrast to how lowly Reza felt. Sprawled out in the booth, fingers drumming the table, Reza shrugged. "Whatever you're having." He just needed to get drunk, the only way he knew how to shut off his mind now.

Ricky watched Reza drum his fingers on the tae, recognizing the tension in the action that he saw every time he looked in the mirror. He so badly wanted to ask questions, wanted to know what had his friend so on edge. He was used to the insouciant Reza, with the lazy smile and the ever present smirk. This one was cagey and anxious and Ricky felt compelled to at least try to fix that. As a waitress wandered over to their table Ricky raised a hand as a greeting to the familiar face, "Hey Ash. Bottle of Patron Silver, two shot glasses, and a plate full of limes. And that'll be good until the bottle runs dry." He pushed his hair out of his eyes and struggled to find a neutral topic of conversation. "Started reading those books you gave me. Don't worry, I'm being hella careful."

Ricky seemed to be a regular here, which was perfect. Meant that ​Reza​ would be paid little to no attention, which is actually what he was hoping for. Even though a part of him had hoped to avoided it, Ricky unsurprisingly started chatting; ever the social creature. "Yeah? Which one'd you start with?" He hadn't gotten around to Ricky's books yet -- he'd only gotten as far as to stack them neatly on his bedside stand next to a bookmark. The bottle of tequila landed on their table and Reza's stomach turned over with relief and horror. For a second he wondered if this was a good idea, seeing as his last drink had been pre-Heath and now... ​Scared your monster moose boyfriend will find out?​ "Pour me one?" Reza asked, as politely as he could, dark eyes staring straight into Ricky's. Yes, this was a good idea because it was the only idea he had to shut up that voice.

Ricky wasn't entirely sure if this was an occasion that required conversation but he tried anyway. "The one from your mom. Seemed like the right way to start" ​seemed like a way to try to get to know you better​ was what he meant but didn't actually say. When the bottle arrived he poured two shots worth of the clear liquid into glasses and pushed the plate of limes in Reza's direction. As a rule he didn't get sloppy drunk. Sloppy drunks tell secrets and his secret would get him killed. But Reza already knew, and Reza hadn't told anyone so far. So maybe just tonight he could forgo responsibility and get drunk as a skunk. The eye contact he was getting almost seemed like a challenge and Ricky never backed down from one. He slugged back his shot and immediately poured another "your wish is my command."

Reza followed Ricky's lead, torn between sighing in bliss and coughing as the liquid burned down his throat. Teeth sunk into the lime as he watched Ricky pour another shot, pushing his small glass in the same direction. "Do seals have a tolerance for all liquids or just water stuff?" he asked, close enough to Ricky so that his low voice would be heard. Even though species discussions felt like a touchy subject right now, with the image of whatever Neven was continuing to pop into his head, Reza couldn't help but bring it up. He just hoped his stupid, drunk ass in the future wouldn't blurt out Neven's secret. After dismissing him like moldy food online and being too chicken shit to talk to him now, keeping Neven's confession secret was the least he could do.

After Reza took his shot and pushed the glass back towards him, ​Ricky​ filled it up and pushed it back towards him, cocking his head as Reza questioned him pretty brazenly about being a seal. "I have twice the amount of blood as a human does. So. Theoretically I have to drink twice as much to achieve the same BAC." He took his shot again, forgoing the lime entirely and shrugged "I don't get drunk often. I have a lot to guard. Telling people what I am could get me killed. So..." he trailed off and fiddled with his empty glass. "I'm getting drunk tonight, though. Real drunk. I've got uber on standby." He let the pause hang between them before he talked again. "I'm not questioning. And I won't. But. You can talk to me about anything. That's all. Let's get drunk."

Reza cocked his head before nodding to the fact. Right. Keep Ricky one drink ahead, at least, if possible. Just so he'd at least get tipsy before he'd have to drag Reza out the door. Not his fault that he was a fucking lightweight, though; it was hard to ingest a lot of alcohol when your BMI had been continuously dropping for the last year or so. "Sounds like a plan." The silence forebode something Reza doubted he wanted to hear and the offer only resulted in a second nod. "I know. It's fine. I'll deal." Kicking back the shot, reaching for another lime to dull the flavour, Reza nodded towards Ricky in agreement of this evening. Already, he could feel his mind shutting up, letting his brain be quiet for a change.

Ricky had lost track of the number of shots he had taken, which was bad news considering he knew for a very hazy fact that he'd taken far more than Reza. "Listen man" he managed to slur out over the mostly empty bottle between them, "you gotta catch the fuck up. I promised I'd get you drunk and all that's happened is you've managed to get me drunk. Superior seal biology and all." He fiddled with a chewed up lime rind before pouring Reza another shot. "So why me. You're cool. You're awesome. You've got peeps you can drink with. Why the sea monster?"

Reza was drunk. Blissfully (albeit regretfully) drunk. Even though he wasn't slurring and sliding around in the booth drunk, Reza could just feel his head swim and his limbs tingle, head leaned back against the wall, bleary eyes watching their surroundings. "Catch up? 'm pretty sure I've had like... at least as much as you," he argued, still taking the offered shot. His head was so blissfully quiet with the promise of passing out this evening into a dreamless sleep, what harm would one more shot do? Wiping his mouth after he'd downed the tequila, grimacing slightly, Reza turned doe-like eyes to Ricky, and laughed. "Cool? Very... very debatable. Awesome? Don't fucking think so and... peeps I can drink with... mm, not so much. But!" One arm slung around Ricky's shoulders in an uncharacteristic nonchalance for touch, "you weren't my last option or anything shitty, y'know? The sea monster is fun and nice 'n doesn't judge." The words quickly slurred together before Reza's head thumped back against the wall, eyes closing briefly. "I don't really get why you said yes, taking the full bag of crazy out for drinks."

"You definitely..... ​definitely​ have not had as much as me to drink. I been counting. Sorta. And you're way more sober than me too. Not cool man. Not cool. We gotta get you drunk. My couch is gonna be super pissed if you pass out on it sober. Don't piss off my couch. That's not cool man." He watched Reza take his shot and laughed at his incredulity "dude you're hella cool. And hella awesome. I think so at least." Ricky nearly fell over as Reza slung an arm around his shoulder "I said yes cuz you're awesome and you're my friend and I do things for my friends when they ask me to. S'about all I got going for me. I can do stuff. And I'm hot. That's it. That's all that's left of Ricky. Ain't good for nothing else." He took a pull straight from the bottle and grimaced "woof. That's some shit right there."

It was a comforting thought, knowing that he wouldn't have to return home to Izel completely shitfaced. ​Reza​ was reluctant to make her see how badly he was failing at everything right now. "That doesn't mean nything, jus' means you're crazy, too," he shot back, the compliments not quite getting through the tough hide of self-deprecation. Frowning, Reza removed the bottle from Ricky's hand, only to finish the last dregs of it, coughing. The empty bottle fell to the side but Reza's focus was on Ricky. "Don't be stupid. You fucking... go to college and have a job and like... a life. I fucking swear, I have no idea why the fuck Neven said no to you and chose... chose-" Reza sighed heavily, angrily even. "You're nice and cool and..." Slumping over, Reza leaned on Ricky, eyes drooping. "'m sleepy..."

It physically hurt Ricky that Reza thought so little of himself. He managed to pout convincingly when Reza took the bottle back only to feel the pit of his stomach drop out when Reza mentioned ​him​. He'd been really good about keeping his friendship with Reza separate from his dying crush on Neven but Reza bringing it up again made him sigh. "I ain't got all that much, bruh. Job. Sure. Not my old one. The one I was good at. I'm a counter bitch now. College is whatever. I can't swim anymore all I've got is..." he cut himself off, he didn't really feel like telling Reza how far he'd talked in recent weeks. "You're nice and cool too dude. Dismiss me all you will but shit's the gospel truth. You're a cool dude I don't give three fucks about your past." Ricky let Reza's head fall onto his shoulder, resting his cheek against the other man's soft hair "let's get home then. There's blankets. And cartoons. And more booze." He drunkenly punched in a request for an Uber and unsteadily rose from his seat. "Come on. I'll give you a piggyback ride to the cab."

The intimcay felt weird, with Ricky's cheek pressed against his hair, and ​Reza​ wasn't even sure it was close to the good kind of weird. Stumbling to his feet, hanging to Ricky even as the other man stumbled as well, Reza peered around for a moment. Wondered if he should make Ricky go ahead without him and stay behind, maybe find some old buddies with merch... Ricky offered a piggyback ride and he shook of the thought, nodding to his friend. "Pretty sure you're gonna drop me but imma trust you." A pause. "Also make sure I don't buy any drugs," he added quietly, as an afterthought, eyes pleading to Ricky.

If Ricky had been hurting at Reza before, the way the man looked into his eyes and begged him to keep him from buying drugs was a knife through the goddamn heart. "I won't drop you. I promise man. I won't drop you and you won't buy drugs because you don't want to and I won't let you because you don't want to so hop up on my back and we'll get you away from temptation." The walk to the cab was bumpy but true to his promise he didn't drop Reza and though he did drop his keys four times trying to unlock his apartment he managed to get them inside and out of the snowy cold. He pointed to the couch and got them a couple of drinks from the fridge. "Tha's your bed. I'll get you a blanket and sweatpants and do you want a t-shirt?" He took a drink and grimaced slightly. "I'm glad we did this, man. Spending time with you is awesome. Even if we're drunk as fuck. You want a mixer? Or just straight up like at the bar."

Reza mustered a smile before he was blissfully unaware of anything but Ricky carrying him, a bit haphardously, barely recalling the ride back to the apartment. He slumped onto the couch as soon as they got inside, unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. "Definitely shirt, too," he mumbled, mussing up his already rowdy hair. "I'm glad too, you're a good, good guy." Reza couldn't quite remember what exactly had led to his being here, possibly because he'd willed himself not to think about it, but he was glad. "Jus' a beer," he answered, struggling to unbutton the rest of his shirt.

Ricky grabbed the beer for Reza, and managed to carry it, and the sweatpants, blanket, and t-shirt over to the couch without spilling or dropping anything. "Shirt. Beer. Blanket. Sweatpants. All for my super awesome bro who doesn't let me get eaten by vampires!" he slumped down on the floor next to the couch, drinking his drink and trying to will his apartment not to spin wildly around him, "'m not though. I'm not a good guy. I'm pretty awful and you could do way better for friends but thanks for pretending and hanging out with me. Being alone sucks. Having friends makes it suck less."

"Nice." ​Reza​ threw off his shirt, thankful that Ricky was on the floor and not right next to him, fairly reluctant to show off more of his scars than necessary. Throwing on the comfier shirt and wrapping himself up in the blanket, Reza spent a moment considering it before he slid down to the floor next to Ricky. Chugging down some of the beer, his stomach complaining aggressively, Reza let his head droop back. "I've only heard like... nice things about you. Saving Noah and stuff. Why'd you think you're so awful? Cause I'm pretty sure my reasons are worse than yours and if you think I'm awesome then you must be even awesome with that argument," he rambled out, starting to feel just slightly queasy.

Ricky kept his eyes trained in the dark television when he heard Reza start to shuffle out of clothes behind him; he was comfortable in his own body but he never assumed other people wanted to be looked at. When the other man slid onto the ground next to him, Ricky half turned his head to look at him, not wanting to press his drunken self's limit by craning his neck too far to look at Reza. "That was almost ten years ago. And we haven't really talked in a couple months. Not like we used to. He doesn't know what I am..." he trailed off, not that that was any kind of explanation, "I dunno man. I'm just." He felt shame, an unusual emotion for Ricky Cordero to feel, and flushed red as he looked down at the beer in his hands "I'm not that great. I've been fucking every guy on Grindr because being sexually desired at least makes me feel like I've got something to offer because I've got nothing else going for me. You're cool and fun to talk to and you seem pretty smart. I'm just hot. I used to be hot and fast in the water and now I'm just hot. That's it. I...." he trailed off again and resolutely chugged the rest of his beer, unwilling to continue that conversation of revelation.

Reza furrowed his eyebrows, staring at his own beer with a frown. This didn't really sound like something that would make Ricky a bad person; far from it actually, but Reza could definitely relate to any sort of feeling of wanting to be desired. Still, he'd managed to fuck that up in about two weeks, so... "That's... not bad. Doesn' make you awful, at least. Just..." His eyebrows furrowed deeper, the room spinning around them. Shit. More beer vanished down his throat. "If you like, y'know... fucking around just... whatever, man. Do it but like, that's not all you can do. You got a fucking future ahead, doesn' matter if you swim or not. Just make up a fucking new talent and rock it." Before the drunken pep talk could continue, Reza felt the turbulence in his stomach grow and he rolled over to his side with a small groan. "Don't hate me if I throw up on your floor," he mumbled.

He could tell Reza was trying to cheer him up, but Ricky had built his armor well, and it wasn't getting though "yeah yeah yeah captain cheerful you gotta say that shit cuz you're drunk and we're friends at least I think we're friends at least I hope we're friends but like you gotta say that shit. Doesn't make it true." He heard the groan and as drunk as he was his fratboy mentality kicked into overdrive and with a fluidity born of having done it many times before he swung Reza up onto the couch and got the trash can before the man could puke "I'm moving outta this place soon and I want my security deposit back. No puking. I'll get you some water." As he filled up a glass from the kitchen and stumbled with it back to the couch he sighed "thanks for sayin that shit though. Even if you're obligated to."

"Hey, fuck that, I don't do shit I'm obligated to. Not 'nymore," ​Reza​ mumbled, curling up sideways on the couch, breathing heavily. Right, this was what he'd hated about drinking. Getting water into his stomach felt like too much effort so he pulled the blanket tighter around himself instead. "I mean it. People that can fucking... tolerate me and... positive like you... not awful..." His eyelids were getting so damn heavy, words fading out in lieu of more heavy breaths, his tight grip on the blanket loosening as he practically passed out into sleep on Ricky's couch. The only thing running through his mind as unconsciousness seized him was how he wished he had his phone, only to call Neven and apologize; beg for him to continue whatever they'd had going on. At least he sorta had Ricky now...

Ricky listened drunkenly as whatever train of thought Reza had been on ran itself off the track and into sleeping breaths. He stumbled back into his room and pulled the comforter and pillows off his bed, curling up on the floor next to the couch in case Reza needed something in the middle of the night. As his own eyes started to close in sleep he couldn't help but think how good it felt to have close friends again, and hoped he didn't do anything to fuck it up too badly.

Reza could feel his head pound before he was completely awake, the pain only accentuated with the rolling of his stomach. "Fuck," he muttered to himself, rolling to his back with a small groan which made him all too aware that he wasn't in his bed. Despite the headache, Reza shot up on the couch, chest burning with panic until he gathered enough sense to recognize his surroundings. The owner of the apartment, and the T-shirt Reza was wearing, was on the ground next to the couch, wrapped up in his comforter. Another wave of nausea hit and Reza stumbled out of the couch with little grace, careful not to step on Ricky, before wobbling to the bathroom on shaky feet.

The sound of Reza stumbling to the bathroom was enough to wake Ricky up and make him acutely aware that he was in the middle of experiencing the worst hangover he'd ever had in his life. As he tried to sit up he was incredibly thankful that he'd had the foresight to bring a trashcan from the kitchen to the living room, leaning over it and retching until he felt like he'd thrown up everything he'd eaten for the last week and a half, "Oh holy shit I'm dying. I'm actually dying. Oh god you killed me man." He wiped his mouth and a terrible thought occurred to him as he sat on his living room floor, "Oh shit dude we didn't fuck did we? Oh god please tell me we didn't fuck that'd be awful not that you're not handsome but oh my god you have a boyfriend and I'm a bad person but I'm not that bad a person."

With one arm draped over the toilet and his cheek smushed against his forearm, ​Reza​ was pretty much ignoring the complaints coming from inside the apartment because yeah, Reza was definitely dying, too. He'd just managed to hopelessly rinse out his mouth with some water when Ricky continued shouting and Reza stumbled back into the living room, raising an eyebrow at his panicked friend. "Man, calm the fuck down. Please," he groaned as he slumped back onto the couch, clearly remembering more of last night than Ricky. "We didn't. Not that it matters because I'm pretty sure I've already fucked things up to the point of being single again." Sighing, wishing the cushions would just swallow him whole, his eyes flitted to the clock on the wall. "...and I have to be at work in thirty minutes. Fuck... Izel might actually disown me."

Ricky stumbled to the kitchen and chugged a giant glass of water down before turning back to where Reza was halfway dying on his couch, "Okay so that's a story but I'm not asking questions because I said I wasn't going to but you can't have fucked it up that much. You just gotta.... I dunno. I've never been on a date let alone had a relationship. I got stood up on a date last week... but that's the closest I've ever come before." He popped his fake teeth out and rinsed the puke from between his fangs, spitting loudly into the sink, "You can borrow clothes and I'll drive you. Or you can call in sick and we can both sit here and die together. Your choice."

Reza moaned pitifully into the couch instead of actually replying, really not in the mood for dating advice. "I have to show up," he finally sighed, raising his head up from the cushions just enough so that Ricky would hear him. "A ride would be nice. Promise I won't puke in your car... I think." Keeping Ricky's shirt on because his own smelled like a bar, the two of them painstakingly made their way into the car. After a few minutes of driving in silence, with Reza's face pressed against the cold glass, he glanced at Ricky from the corner of his eye. "Thanks for not asking. By the way. Appreciate it."