Danti One Shots

·Sober Mans Thoughts·

It was 12:00 AM. Anti was leaning against the bar and downed another shot. "That went down smoother than the last two! C'mon you old heifer, give me another!" The bartender was not at all pleased by Anti's incoherent Irish ramblings and shot a stern look over to me. I got the message and slapped a twenty dollar bill on the counter. Anti turned back to look at me, clawing at his back pocket for his wallet. "You... You don't have to pay for me, I'm an independent son of a bitch who can pay for his own weight in liquor! Drink it too!"

I rolled my eyes and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "You'll also be puking your guts out and end up in an ice bath with a suspicious scar where your kidney is if we keep drinking like this." Luckily I wasn't drunk, only having had one half of a beer. I wasn't much for drinking. If we stayed any longer though, I probably would have been puking along side him. How romantic. We walked out of the bar and across the street to my car. He stumbled along side me, humming a song to himself. I helped Anti into the passengers side and buckled him in. The second I got into the car, Anti was unbuckled and crawling into the backseat. "Anti, what the hell are you doing?" He grumbled something before saying something slightly slurred. "I'm tired! I'm gonna lay down back here!" I groaned when he stuck his ass in my face in his attempts to get into the backseat. I helped him get back there and sighed in relief when I was finally able to get the car started and driving home.

It felt like hours listening to him sing to himself and randomly yell out things, when it was probably only twenty minutes before we got back to my place. Glancing at the backseat, Anti was curled up and gazing at the back of his hand as if it were the greatest thing to ever grace this earth. Taking my keys and putting them in my jacket pocket, I got out to open the back door and tapped Anti's shoe. "Hey man," I tapped his foot again. "We're here."

"We're where?" He asked.

"My house." I sighed.

"Why?" He drug out the 'y' like a whiny toddler.

"I thought it'd be better if you stay with me tonight since you're totally blasted, and I don't want you drowning in your own vomit."

He giggled. The same heart fluttering giggle I gave myself a pat on the back for whenever I heard it. It just felt good to know that I had caused him the moment of joy. "Fiiiiine." He sat up and reached out to me, making grabby hands. "Help." I raised an eyebrow. "You're a 30 year old man. I'm pretty sure you can get up and haul your own ass into that house." He pouted, his rosy red cheeks looking rounder. "My dad used to tell me whenever I stuck my lip out to put it back in, or else a bird would fly overhead and shit on it." I told him. Anti's face broke out into a toothy grin. "Your dad sounds funny." I gripped his arm and pulled him out of the car. "He was." I reached around Anti to close the door and ended up turning right back into him. His hands reached up to gently cradle my face.

I never realised how soft they were until now. Is that weird? Is Anti holding my face like this weird? Is it weird for friends to be this close? That seemed to melt away just the slightest though when Anti said the next few words that almost made my heart stop out of pure surprise. "You're beautiful." My tongue flicked over my dry lips quickly. My hands went up to grab his wrists. I've never been called beautiful. Handsome, or good-looking, yeah. But beautiful? Never. I liked it though. "Anti, you're drunk." He smiled. "Yes, I am. But you know what?" He whispered. "What?" I didn't know how to feel about this. "I may be drunk, but you're still beautiful. And tomorrow when I'm not drunk, you'll still be beautiful."

Could words steal your breath away? They certainly damn could. "You're just saying that, bud. You're tired. We need to get you to bed." I tried to turn away, but he didn't let me go. "Haven't you ever heard the saying that a drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts?" I nodded. "Well yeah, but-" He cut me off. "Then here's another thought for you when I was sober and too much of a coward to say it. I love you, Damien. I have for the past three Goddamn years. We met five years ago, and it took me two of those wonderful years to finally wrap my head around what I had. The amazing mess that you are. I wouldn't trade my friendship with you for all the happiness in the world, because all the happiness I need is right here in front of me. I was so scared of my feelings towards you. I didn't want to lose you.

"But I guess it's too late now. I've opened my big gob up. Even if we don't end up being friends anymore, just know I had the best time of my life with you. Every single moment. Even the bad, because that would be when I would see that neither of us are perfect, but we have something so special that we can build eachother up when we're at our lowest. It's something so dear to me, and I wish that you could see it. I wish that you could see how beautiful you are."

I had no words. How does someone respond to this? How do you respond when you're friend opened up their heart to you, and said it with so much love that it emotionally hurts. Especially when they're trying to stop themselves from crying. Hell, I was holding back tears myself. How did I not know? Know that my best friend was in love with me, and I loving him back? I leaned in and he winced, shying away from me. I cooed softly to him and ran my hands from his wrists and down his arms, finding places to put them on his shoulders. "I've never heard a drunk man say such wonderful things." He leaned into my hands that was wiping the tears from his face.

"Maybe the sudden rush of adrenaline sobered me up some." He chuckled weakly. I shook my head. "You're something." He glanced up at me, looking almost sad. God it hurt to see him look at me like that. Like I was disgusted with him or something, when I was far from it. So that's when I kissed him.