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Date: 2018-01-17 06:25 am (UTC)
deploy: (john56)
From: [personal profile] deploy
[He's drunk. Don't even think about it. Don't even think about thinking about it.

Poe touches his ear. He's drunk. His jaw. He's drunk. Makes him look up at him like that. He's drunk. John shivers, in spite of himself. Goosebumps rising on the backs of his arms.

He's still drunk.

John's always had a weakness for brown eyes. The darker, the better. They speak to something in him. A desire to fall into someone other than himself. To be swallowed up, and disappeared.

Does Poe even know what he's doing to him? John doesn't think so. Isn't certain Poe knows what those eyes can do to a man, sober.

And right now, Poe's about as far away from sober as a man can be while still conscious.

Poe's hand falls away, and John reels himself back into some modicum of decency. He needs to take care of his friend, right now. His drunk friend, who trusts him, and needs him, and deserves better than whatever acts John's mind keeps turning to, compelled by a need so primal it borders on stupidity.]


I'll give you the grand tour. [If that came out sounding half as lame as John thinks it sounded, he'll be cringing in the morning. With any luck Poe won't remember.

He stands, finally, offering Poe his arm.]
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