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One Night StandTalvace on DeviantArthttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/https://www.deviantart.com/talvace/art/One-Night-Stand-610997785Talvace

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One Night Stand

By
Talvace
Published: May 24, 2016
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It has been far too long since I gave my children some love. Granted, this is a mean kind of love, but love all the same. So begins the end of the peace at IEC. Yes, yes, I know, I'm awful. You love it. 

--------------------------------------

Alcohol makes a lot of things seem like a good idea. Even the peak of his drinking binge hadn't diluted the stupidity of this one, though. 

"I'm not 21 until August, you know." Dylan finished the dark liquid in his glass with a grimace. Good ol' Captain Morgan, always settled to the bottom of the glass and forced the last gulp to be a shot. 

"I'm not your parent." A snowy mop of hair obscured Dawson's face, but dark eyes tracked the stablehand's movements. 

Silence fell. The clink of a bottle opening, followed by alcohol into a glass. Dylan didn't drink much, but when he did he went all the way. Go big or go home, as they say. Offering up the bottle, he filled Dawson's glass at a nod, toasting silently to the man who let him have a bit of fun while his boss was away. 

"You're a detective." It was a statement. No question in the boy's voice. 

"Yep, and you're a stablehand."

"Touché. But, can't you, like, get in trouble for drinking with me?"

"If anyone asks you held a gun to my head and forced me."

Dylan snorted at that, tossing back his drink. Then another. and another. 

It was an hour, or maybe several later, when he stood to get a glass of water and tumbled onto the floor, landing unceremoniously at the Detective's feet. He flashed his dorky smile, pushed himself up, and tried to stand. It didn't work. Inwardly he was humiliated. How could something so simple as standing be this hard? He'd be doing it all of his life. 

"Need a hand?" If he'd been sober, Dylan would've be able to hear the smirk in the man's voice. 

"No, no. I got it, I just gotta -" Once again, Dylan was on his ass at Dawson's feet. 

This time there was no offer, only action. The man placed his glass down with a sigh, taking his time standing. He moved all at once, then, bending and throwing Dylan over his shoulder like a bag of bricks. 

"Time for you to go to bed."

Dylan protested the entire way up to the guest room. Dawson had been the one sleeping there, but he could take Eva's bed for the night. He ended up there most days anyway. A giggle from the stable boy interrupted his mental sigh. How he differed so much from the boy was a mystery to him. Even at that age Dawson had never been as reckless as to try and drink an entire handle of alcohol on his own. 

"What your head." Dawson dumped the still giggling boy on the bed, but Dylan caught him off guard when he held on and dragged him down with him. "What are you doing?"

"Aren't you gonna stay to make sure I don't die of alcohol poisoning or something?" The words slurred so that Dawson just barely caught the meaning. Maybe he'd had more to drink than he remembered, though, because he found himself agreeing. 

----

Dylan's hat hung on the back of her kitchen chair. The table was littered with beer bottles and half full glasses of something stronger. She knew. The second she saw the state of the rug in the hall. When she realized the door to the guest room was still open, and her room was empty, she knew. 

Swallowing her words, she slammed the door open. She crossed the room, drawing open the blinds and looking as far away from the half naked bodies as she could. With self control rivaled only by monks, she ripped the blankets back. 

"Breakfast in 20 minutes, I expect you both to clean the kitchen beforehand." She left, then. Without looking back.
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