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witticasterSigh, my attempts to write threesomes. Those are hard.
They walked back to the hotel room from the pub, all three stumbling drunk--but especially Archie. William was fairly sure he'd never seen him so tanked, nor so cheerfully flirtatious with him and Horatio both. It was strange but undeniably nice, considering how easily Archie's good humour had drawn Horatio from the beginnings of a mope into puppyish smiles and snickering laughs.
The night was quite fine, even if they could see their breath in the air before them and the pavement began to roll like the deck of a ship. Archie hung between Horatio and William, drawing their heads so near to his that he could kiss either cheek before him without turning his head more than a fraction.
Once Archie had derived as much amusement from that as he could, he began to sing. Even at this point of inebriation, William could tell he was rather off-key, his enthusiasm apparently having taken over his abilities that night. But the sight of his pale throat, taking on a yellow cast in the streetlight when Archie tipped his head back, was enough to make William forgive the wandering pitch in his singing. "And when I get drunk, well I know I'm gonna be--I'm gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you."
It went on that way until Archie reached the chorus and William caught sight of the hotel at the end of the block, and he and Horatio were being assured that Archie would walk a thousand miles for either of them. Or perhaps for the both of them. William remained uncertain which one of them was being promised this, though his honest guess would be Horatio. "To fall down at your do-o-or," Archie continued, then paused; William could see the frown on his face from the corner of his eye. "Dunno the rest of the words."
Words proved unnecessary then, it seemed, for Archie leaned in first to Horatio and then to William, kissing the near corners of their mouths. And as they reached the hotel's thresh hold, William didn't care about anything but the warmth of the two men his arm stretched over.
They walked back to the hotel room from the pub, all three stumbling drunk--but especially Archie. William was fairly sure he'd never seen him so tanked, nor so cheerfully flirtatious with him and Horatio both. It was strange but undeniably nice, considering how easily Archie's good humour had drawn Horatio from the beginnings of a mope into puppyish smiles and snickering laughs.
The night was quite fine, even if they could see their breath in the air before them and the pavement began to roll like the deck of a ship. Archie hung between Horatio and William, drawing their heads so near to his that he could kiss either cheek before him without turning his head more than a fraction.
Once Archie had derived as much amusement from that as he could, he began to sing. Even at this point of inebriation, William could tell he was rather off-key, his enthusiasm apparently having taken over his abilities that night. But the sight of his pale throat, taking on a yellow cast in the streetlight when Archie tipped his head back, was enough to make William forgive the wandering pitch in his singing. "And when I get drunk, well I know I'm gonna be--I'm gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you."
It went on that way until Archie reached the chorus and William caught sight of the hotel at the end of the block, and he and Horatio were being assured that Archie would walk a thousand miles for either of them. Or perhaps for the both of them. William remained uncertain which one of them was being promised this, though his honest guess would be Horatio. "To fall down at your do-o-or," Archie continued, then paused; William could see the frown on his face from the corner of his eye. "Dunno the rest of the words."
Words proved unnecessary then, it seemed, for Archie leaned in first to Horatio and then to William, kissing the near corners of their mouths. And as they reached the hotel's thresh hold, William didn't care about anything but the warmth of the two men his arm stretched over.