Wisdom of the Fool // Jake & Danny

Chapter VII

Warnings: drinking; a little angst; kissing; groping; suggestiveness. 18+ only!

I absolutely loved writing this chapter, although it's arguably the one I slaved over the most. I always enjoy a little angst...although I think you'll catch onto the fact that creating any sort of turmoil between these two is challenging. I can't imagine their bond ever being anything but completely solid and full of mutual love and admiration. I hope you enjoy ~

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All of the words Jake had considered and tried to construct into eloquent, perhaps even poetic, sentences went right out the window that night--six shots of whiskey and two beers will do that to a person, especially a person of his stature. He could hold his own--probably better than the rest of the band gave him credit for--but by the third shot and first beer, he was tripping over his words and, by the sixth shot and second beer, he was staggering as he stood, haphazardly leaning into any of the three of them to keep himself upright.

He wasn't sure where that had come from. Yes, they all liked to have a good time and they were all young enough to still drink irresponsibly much of the time, plus drinking in a new bar always had a kind of hazy, sparkling allure, but Jake hardly ever got so fucking plastered. He wasn't sure if he felt good or if he felt bad, he just knew he felt completely wasted and the music was starting to seem too loud but it still felt a little nice thumping through his eardrums.

He also wasn't sure where exactly the glass of ice water and the peanut butter and jelly sandwich triangle on a paper napkin had come from, but he scarfed it down and sipped the water dutifully, blinking at the strings of colored lights roped around the bar. His thoughts were as hazy as the place itself and the thin veil of moonlight that he saw as the back door opened and then shut, but one thought remained clear--Danny.

Danny's hand was on his shoulder then--Jake looked up to see that beautiful, dark face and his smile grew into a toothy grin. He felt himself tilt his head as he looked up at him, like a puppy, like a lovesick little kid, but couldn't even fault himself. He hadn't asked to become enamoured with the guy who was just supposed to be his friend, just supposed to be their drummer, just supposed to be their brother-without-blood.

"Daniel," he said, still gawking.

Danny snorted a little, his cupid's bow turning up for half a second. "I'm 'Daniel' tonight? You're turning into Sam."

Jake pouted. "No. I'm not Sam."

Danny smirked and Jake really felt like a little kid. "I know you're not. Are you--"

Jake tugged on his arm. "Sit down. I don't like you being above me."

"I'm always above you," Danny reminded him, but he did sit down on the stool next to Jake. "Technically. Height-wise." Jake could see the alcohol-induced flush over his cheeks too, but Danny was clearly nowhere near the level he was at. Their drummer wasn't a lightweight by any means and he was also good at pretending to be more sober than he actually was, usually only until Sam got his claws in again, though. Jake wondered where Sam had gotten off to anyway, and if Danny would be scooped up by him any second.

"Am I what?" Jake asked, only then realizing he'd cut Danny off.

"Are you good?"

He drank more water, letting a couple half-melted ice cubes slide into his mouth. "Yeah. I'm good. Did you bring me this?"

"Yeah. Oh man," Danny said, leaning back and eyeing him. "You're really wasted."

It was true, but Jake suddenly felt self-conscious about it. He didn't need Danny to be worried or, even worse, judge him. He knew the latter would never truly happen; the former, however, was guaranteed to happen. Was happening. "I just didn't see you."