#simonm0nroe

Kieren cast a dramatic glare in his boyfriend’s direction.

“I was perfectly capable of keeping up with Rick, I’ll have you know!”

Simon gave a short laugh.

“Oh, of course you were. I take it back then - you must be a seasoned drinker. Here’s to Roarton’s heavyweight drinking champion 2009!”

Chinking their glasses together, Simon leant in closer, his warm breath ghosting over Kieren’s ear.

“But I should warn you,” Kieren barely managed to supress a shudder at the low, sensual voice whispering in his ear, “never compete against an Irishman.”

Smirking, Simon sat back and swiftly drained the contents of his glass, placing it firmly back down on the table. Was that a dare? Kieren hoped it was, draining his own glass in response, placing the empty next to Simon’s. How many had that been? Three glasses, maybe four?

Oh, there was no question that Kieren was well on his way to being completely plastered. The few times he drunk with Rick and the several times at college, he’d always favoured sweeter drinks – Bacardi Breezer, WKD (he’d never admit that to Simon), Jacques, Crabbies – or had only been able to obtain low percentage lager (courtesy of Rick’s dad, who failed to notice the odd can or two that went missing now and then, ending up in the stash Rick had started for times he and Kieren would hang out at the cave with nothing better to do). There was no way Kieren would have ever drunk whiskey, but that’s what Simon had procured, so that’s what they were drinking. At least he had managed to avoid looking like a complete baby by holding back the need to cough and pull a face at his first swig (he also made a note not to swig it again).

The taste was starting to bother him less, and the fire radiating out from his oesophagus had reached the rest of his body, wrapping him in a very warm, comfortable sensation. Simon unscrewed the bottle of Bushmills and poured them a double measure each. Kieren automatically reached for his, only to find Simon’s hand on his, stopping him. He looked up, catching Simon’s expression.

“What?”

“Nothing. Let’s just…”

Simon fell silent, gazing at Kieren.  He could feel his cheeks catch fire. Shit, shit, shit. Why did Simon always look at him like that? He couldn’t organise his thoughts, and damnit all to hell if the alcohol wasn’t making it worse. He tried not to freak out or visibly tremble as Simon slowly closed the distance between them, kissing him. For a moment he forgot how to kiss back, before the ability kicked in, in overdrive. He didn’t know it was possible to be any more embarrassed at his own awkwardness but Simon, as always, forgave him his imperfections. Cool hand came to rest on his burning cheeks, soothing him and holding him steady until he calmed down again. He didn’t know how to get used to this – to the way Simon kissed him and held him, arms so strong and comforting as Kieren came undone at the touch of his lips. Kissing Simon… kissing Simon was the best feeling in the world, and right now the amber fire in his bloodstream was making it a thousand times better.

They were making out like needy teenagers. When exactly had they ended up nearly horizontal? Pinned beneath Simon’s welcome weight, Kieren really shouldn’t have one knee up like that, pushed against the back of the sofa while the other dangled off the edge. He should stop kissing, sit up and make himself presentable. What if Jem walked in…?

The reward of continuing kissing far, far outweighed any possible reason to stop. Besides, his family were supposed to be out until at least midnight. No, there was no reason on Earth to pry himself away from Simon.

He was pretty much drunk, so chalked that up as being the reason why he suddenly started giggling. Simon pulled back, confused, looking down at Kieren with concerned, ghost-blue eyes. The way they were slowly turning back to blue from white fascinated Kieren. He thought they looked extremely beautiful - especially compared to the mud-brown slowly staining his own irises. Gorgeous Simon who...

"Kieren, are you okay?"

He nodded, face split with a grin.

"Yeah, I'm just... happy..."

Simon looked relieved, even if still somewhat confused, and leant in close again and kissing the skin on Kieren's cheek as he spoke.

"Seems like someone's had enough alcohol, hm?"

"No, no!" Kieren protested, laughing at the gentle touches peppering his face, although trying to be serious and sit up, pushing Simon off at the same time. Simon went reluctantly, hovering just above Kieren, who had only managed to push himself into a half-sitting position with his back against the armrest, Simon's arms either side of his head.. "It's not the alcohol, it's just..."

He'd stop grinning in a moment, he told himself. Simon watched him patiently for an answer as Kieren's eyes focused on the (honestly quite pretty) pattern cut into the two glasses they had been drinking out of. He stumbled, sober for a moment, before finding the courage to look back up at Simon. Was he going to...? Yeah, why not. He grinned up at the patient pillar of a man above him.

"Love you."

Using the little leverage he had, Kieren raised himself on his elbows, closing the short distance and kissing Simon before he could get over the surprise and formulate a reply. He didn't need to hear one. He'd hear one later, perhaps, if Simon didn't deny what Kieren had just said, but right now he was enjoying kissing Simon and just being so close to someone who sent every single one of his newly woken systems into overdrive. He was still smiling like an idiot through the kisses as the man above him reciprocated, pinning him down with more weight and initiating another mindbreaking make-out session.

~

Something like an hour and another glass and a half later, Kieren found an impossibly wide smile on his face once again when, as Simon was ardently kissing his neck, he felt a whisper against his skin and heard the Irishman's warm voice utter those unmistakable words.