liquor on my lips || jeanmarco !blitz!

I wake with my arms around another. His body is pulled to mine by hands that I do not remember moving and confusion gives way to the railroad stake settled into the center of my skull. Ring. Ring. Ring. The stake is dug deeper into the bone with every mighty swing and if I had the strength to move I would look to see who has settled so perfectly within my arms.

But I can tell by his smell. A familiar, sweet sort of scent that I would recognize anywhere- even on my death bed. (And I certainly feel that is where I lay right now.) The night before is nothing but a blur, emotions and whiskey- the burning of my throat and of my tongue. Anger, anxiety. I can't remember a thing, but I'm not sure I want to. My hand shakes when I lift it- pressing the palm to my forehead and trying to ignore the nauseating way my head is spinning. Protesting as I tear myself away from previous harmony.

I think that Marco is the only man I can wake up next to without feeling the slightest bit weird. We were roommates for the longest time, I grew to love the peaceful way his body rises and falls in time with his breath, the way his eyes flutter in sleep and rest like butterfly's wings upon his spotted cheeks.

We're close, share a bond that might be easy to misunderstand as an outsider looking in. He's the best friend I've ever had- the person who understands me most. I don't mind being close to him, I don't care what Jaeger might mutter under his breath with that same ear-shattering squeak, it's not like that. Both Marco and I know it.

"You're the second best thing to wake up to after blacking out." I tease, propping myself up against the headboard and playing with a flyaway strand of Marco's hair. "Right behind a gorgeous lady."