“Are you…” I leaned closer to peer into his bloodshot eyes, and caught the faint scent of alcohol on his breath. “Are you drunk?” I asked incredulously.
“What? Me?” He tilted his head to the side and gave me a sloppy, crooked grin. It looked really good on him. Too good. But it didn’t take away from the fact that he was completely sauced. “No,” he drew out the word. “I’ve just been enjoying some beers with my bud here.” Raising a hand, he pointed a curled finger at Rick, which meant he actually pointed at the floor.
Glancing over my shoulder, I stared Rick down. He wouldn’t…
And the damn man blushed.
I clucked under my tongue at him and the blush on his cheeks turned damn near bashful. Fletcher dropped his hand back to my hips and squeezed as he swayed forward. Even with Rick right behind me, I had to adjust my balance to keep Fletcher on his feet.
“Don’t be upset, Drew,” Fletcher said, his crooked grin so lopsided it was adorable. “Rick and I are making friends so he won’t want to kill me every five minutes.”
“Uh huh,” I murmured.
“I’ll take him—” Rick began but I shook my head and his chin dropped.
“I think you’ve done enough,” I told him firmly, before I hooked one of Fletcher’s arms over my shoulder and turned him. Drunk men were hard enough to navigate in tight spaces. We didn’t need to make this a slapstick comedy routine.
Regret seemed to fill the air with all the things Rick didn’t say. As it was, Fletcher leaned into me and took a deep breath from my hair—wonderful, he was sniffing it. “You smell nice,” he announced. “Better than us. Right, Rick?”
Fletcher must have half-turned to ask his question, because he twisted me with him and I slapped his ass before I wrapped my arm around his waist again. “Focus.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Fletcher said obediently and leaned on me as I guided him through the kitchen and toward the stairs. “It wasn’t really a lot.” He took another breath from my hair and whisper-shouted, “We were just guys being guys. He drank a beer, I drank a beer. We might have done boilermakers.”
I did not roll my eyes, I was too busy focusing on getting Fletcher up the stairs. “I don’t suppose you got your equipment set up while I was gone, did you?”
Rick’s barely audible ‘no’ followed us as Fletcher sighed, then began to rub his cheek against my hair like he was hugging a stuffed animal. “Nope. I’ll fix it in the morning, don’t you worry, Drew. I’ll get everything done and do it right, just for you. I don’t even mind that you shoot people. Which is weird, ‘cause I don’t like guns.”
Thankfully, despite how much of his one-hundred-and-eighty-pound frame he leaned on me, he managed to get up the stairs. Experience at getting drugged men to move paid off right now.
“Room right across from mine,” Rick said, almost solemnly. That worked, at least the door stood open. I got Fletcher into the room. He hadn’t even unpacked clothes. There was a huge case poking out from under the bed and that was it. Did we even have towels in here?
“Have a seat,” I told Fletcher as I eased him toward the bed. He tightened his grip on me and pulled me with him as he fell down. Men. So predictable. Even adorably drunk ones.
I flipped him over neatly before he managed to roll me onto my back, and then I was off the bed, leaving Fletcher to blink slowly at the ceiling. “Holy shit, you’re fast.” Admiration vied with shock as he pushed himself up on his elbows. “And gorgeous. You know that, don’t you Drew?”
“So I’ve been told,” I answered him, pulling his shoes off one at a time. “Go get him a couple of bottles of water and some aspirin. You’re not allergic to aspirin, are you, Fletcher?” I cast a look at Rick in time to catch his troubled look and then his nod. Poor man had zero poker face. If he was anywhere near as drunk as Fletcher, he wasn’t showing it. Which made me think he wasn’t.
The men could sort this out later, but I needed Fletcher sober for work and not hungover or sick.
“Nope, just allergic to stupid,” Fletcher admitted after Rick left the room. “Big case of that going around when I was a kid. Should have known better. Didn’t realize just how damn dumb I was.”
“We’re all stupid when we’re young,” I offered by way of comfort. “My dad used to say that stupid was nature’s way of making sure we survived.”
Shoes off, I got his shirt undone and tugged out of his pants before I undid his jeans. The belt came off easily and he blinked at me owlishly. “Are you getting me naked?”
“That’s what it looks like,” I told him, since apparently, he wasn’t wearing any boxers.
“I go commando.”
“I noticed.” His dick gave a twitch, but he was only half-hard and way too drunk to do more than that. I didn’t focus on the dick piercing. Not gonna lie though, it made me curious.
“Why did your dad think stupid made sure we survived?” Fletcher asked, as I finished peeling the pants down his lean muscled legs.
“Hands,” I told him as I held mine out and he gripped them obediently. I tugged him to a sitting position and then whipped his shirt off of him. “He said we had to be stupid so we could pay for stupid young. Cause young stupid wasn’t as bad as adult stupid.”
And yes, Daddy, I’m aware that I’ve now got two men here and that would probably be stupid in your opinion. “Huh,” Fletcher said. Then he cupped his hand over his dick. “I gotta pee.”
“Good,” I told him as I helped him up. “Can you manage and get it in the toilet, or do I need to hold it for you?”