thisavrou_log | It’s not the fault of good old whiskey

[Peter's beside her, wobbling just slightly as he comes to a stop. There's a large, goofy grin on his face which could be an indication of how drunk he is, if it weren't the usual expression he wore around her. The glassiness to his gaze is proof positive, that and how he just sinks to the floor by her chair instead of standing. He puts the hand not holding a mostly empty glass on her ankle, slurring as he talks.]

Do your feet hurt?

[He rubs his thumb absently on her ankle bone, blinking at her owlishly. He hasn't been able to stop staring since his third glass. She's just so pretty tonight, not that he doesn't always think that, but the added boost of liquid warmth in his stomach makes it near impossible to stop thinking about it.]

[Of course J had noticed Peter eyeing at her way. Just like she always did. But this time he wasn't trying to be discreet about it or hide his wandering eyes away from her like he usually did. Not that she minds, no, it's actually quite opposite of that.

It's not the first time she's served alcohol to Peter but she's never seen him quite this drunk. Whenever she caught him staring from the corners of her eyes J pretended that that she saw nothing, letting him to think he's safe and only once or twice looking back at him with smile, to keep his interest up. It'd be no good if he were to give up after being ignored for too long.

But what surprises her is that it takes this long from him to approach her. While she does appreciate that he waited until she was on break she still had sort of hoped that he wouldn't have needed to take so long to muster up courage. Especially when she believes give him enough proof not to feel nervous around her.

Blowing first some smoke out between her lips, she takes the cigarette to her fingers and shrugs a little bit, looking like a smug cat.

Maybe a little? Are you going to do something about it?]

[He keeps grinning up at her, a few beats after she's shrugged. It's taking his mind a little while to play catch up tonight, a distinct departure from his usual ability to catch things in fractions of seconds. His hand is already wandering over the bones along the top of her foot, touch feather light. After a moment he sits down his drink, moves one of her legs to his lap with far more concentration than the task should take. He starts to rub at her arch.]

You're pretty.

[There's no lead up to it, he just blurts it out at her toes. He'd be more embarrassed if he was more aware of what he doing.]

I mean, tonight. You look pretty. Like always. But still, more tonight than always.

['More than always.' She's quite sure that Peter's said something as clumsy and awkward as that before when trying to compliment her. And just like always, J finds his words entertaining and flattering -- but unlike before, there's a small touch of endearment. His stupidity is really starting to grow on her.

The light touch of his fingertips feels nice, almost tickling her. The smile on her lips grows wider, gaining a hint of playfulness as she watches him crouching on the floor, mumbling to her toes. She rests her elbow on the counter and tits her head a little on the side as she gives him a small kick to get him look back up to her.

Really, if he's trying to woo her then at least he could look her in the eyes.]

Hey.

[He huffs out a laugh, swatting at the kick a moment too late and no heat. He looks back up to her, intent on making a joke about how she should be nice to the guy giving her a massage. But somewhere between the alcohol and meeting her gaze the words die.

He thinks about what Sans said, why he walked over here in the first place. She can't smile at him like that and hate him, and right now seeing that playful look makes Peter really want to kiss her. But standing seems like a chore, so he just tries to reach for her wrist. Kissing someone's hand is totally romantic. He's seen in it movies, the girly movies his mom watches late at night. J won't be able to resist. Probably.]

I'm going to say something. Important. [He's still trying for her hand,] It's a question.

[ She brings the cigarette back to her lips and inhales some of the smoke before blowing it out in a thin line, eyebrow slightly arching up in questioning manner as he starts fumbling and looking for her hand. There's a brief pause before she reaches down and offers her free hand to him, hoping that he doesn't intend to pull her down on the floor with him.

But when he blurts out the word 'important' J really has to struggle to keep her face straight, so ridiculous it sounded in his current drunken state. She puts a curious expression on her face to play along, pretending to be both confused and stoked as she braces herself to hear whatever silly he has on his mind.]

Edited 2016-08-09 19:22 (UTC)

[He doesn't pull, by some miracle. He just holds her hand in his, rubbing at her knuckles absently -her skin was so much softer than his- before pressing a kiss to the back of her wrist.

Smooth.]

J. You're my favorite. [That has nothing to do with what he wants to ask, but it's so easy to be distracted. To need another moment to steel himself. Speaking of, he takes the hand not on her's and grab his glass. He drains it, frowning for a moment from the burn and then looking back up to her.]

You should go on a date with me. [Wait. Still not a question.] Will you? Uh. Yeah. If you want to, I mean.

Edited 2016-08-12 01:49 (UTC)

[She moves her foot of his lap to the floor to support herself so that she doesn't slide of her chair as he takes her hand to his own. The amused look stays on her face even though she can't help but feel a little awkward when he carefully studies the back of her hand. And when he finally places a kiss on it she quickly looks around them quickly. She's the last person to protest against being affectionate on public but he's still sitting on floor and kissing her hand -- both that wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't so obviously drunk.

However, when he manages to spat out the question J raises her both eyebrows up in a brief moment of surprise. It's doesn't exactly come out nowhere to her that he wants to on a date with her. After all, some of their previous outings and 'hangouts' could easily fit in the definition of a 'date.' But what comes to her as a surprise is that well.. he actually managed to say it out loud clearly and even maintain an eye contact. Sure, the alcohol might have something to do with his sudden boost of confidence -- which alone is something that makes her both want to laugh out of amusement and shake her head in a disappointment.

She let's him hold her hand for a little longer, her expression softening while still containing a faint sly gleam in her eyes. Then, she pulls her hand away and places the cigarette back to her mouth so that she can have her both hands free to write him her answer:]

favorite? didn't know there were others in your mind. [Because of course he's not going to make this easy for him.]

[He actually pouts a moment when she pulls away, hands dropping back to his lap. He blinks up at her while she types, trying to push away the initial disappointment that she's saying no. Of course she'd say no. What was he thinking? He should leave. When he feels like he can stand again, he'll leave and maybe she won't mention it again and he won't have to hide in Wanda's room the rest of the week-

He squints at her message, neither a yes or no but just a question.]

Not as much as you are.

[It's far more honest than he'd be if he was sober, because it's such an embarrassing thing to admit. Sure he looks and even flirts a little because he's not blind, but he didn't like any of them the same way. The closest would have been Cass, but she'd made it overly clear she thought of him as a child and that had faded quickly.

But still, he doesn't want her to think he doesn't mean it. That his slip on the tongue makes her just one of many because it wasn't like that. It hadn't been like that for a long while.]

A lot of people here are pretty and all, but just pretty gets boring. You know?

[He leans back on his hands for support, staring up at her with a hint of nerves starting to show through the drunken haze.]

You're not boring, not even a little bit. I'm saying your my favorite because you are not because there's a lot of other people I'm trying to ask out. Because I'm not. I'm just asking you.

[That's actually a lot more than what she expected. She had really thought that she'd see the drunken redness on his face deepen and turn darker from the flush or hear nervous bluffs and nervous attempts to save himself. But this was much more heartfelt compared to the clumsy flirt she had used to get from him.

But while it's true that his drunken state lessens the sincerity of the moment, she'd be lying to say that his words didn't have any effect on her. There's a short moment, barely longer than a beat, when she feels a long forgotten stinging sensation on her chest, the bottom of stomach getting light and tingly. But itt all fades just as fast they had arrived and J turns her gaze back to her wrist and starts typing again.

However, this time she doesn't send the text to him but instead crooks her index finger, telling him to get up from the floor so that he can read what she wrote:]

so when will you come pick me up?

Edited 2016-08-17 23:16 (UTC)

[He slowly gets up to his feet, grabbing at the edge of the table for stability. He stares down at her for a moment, swaying a little before he finally just takes the other chair. Settled, he leans forward to read what she's written, smile springing to his face when he realizes the meaning.

It's not a no. Not at all.]

Soon.

[He can't keep the glee from his voice, like a child who just got to open the first gift on Christmas morning. That she's agreeing to see him keeps running through his head like a mantra, she's saying yes she's saying yes. He feels warmer than the alcohol would allow, watching her like she's something rare and precious.]

Give me a little bit to make something good, okay? I'd kind of hoped we'd stop someplace, so I could take you somewhere nice. [Of course he'd get no such luck, but he can't feel bad about it now.] But I'll still make special. Let me tell you the day when my head's not spinning, okay?

[When he slowly rises up from the floor J first wonders whether she should reach out and grab him so that he won't fall right back down, that's just how unstable did he look to her. But then he sits down on the chair next to her and the fickle traces of concerns quiets down. The look he gives to her when the message sinks in is just too much, making her let out a soundless giggle and turn her own eyes away to shed off the ashes from her cigarette to empty glass on the counter.

She nods at him as an answer and shifts on her own stool so that she can lift her feet on his lap, resting her chin on her hand. Even though the options for the date on the sip were more than just slim and limited, she couldn't help but think it as a safer bet than a stop at the next random planet. After all, out of all places they've visited so far only one of them held any romantic value.]

usually people have an idea what they want to do when they ask someone out. i hope that your head stops spinning before you forget about all of this.

[He puts his hands back on her ankles, rubbing at the joints absently. His focus stays on her, smiling at her face. He's giddy enough that he feels like he could sit here and watch her for hours, if she'd let him. And he drunk and happy enough to forget there's a bar full of people able to watch them back. If he wouldn't be to unsteady on his feet, for even the few steps it would take, Peter thinks he might move over there and kiss her.

But he stays in place, expression growing a shade sheepish when she shows him her MID.]

Spending time with you is as far as I got but I'm going to think of something better to do. [He squeezes her foot gently.] I'm not going to forget. There's no way I could forget anything you say, drunk or not. I'm not that much of a lush.

[She nods at him approvingly, both to the massage and to his words. Of course, there's still a part in her that doesn't want to let him off this easily and keep pushing and grilling him more about this. But when he's grinning and staring her like that it's really impossible not to have lips curling up and smile match his.

She's heard people call her their favorite before and have them ask her out -- but never like this. Peter's clumsy and juvenile, sure, but there's something in the way he looks up at her, eyes all dreamy and enthralled that makes this feel real. Like she's real.]

well, arent you building this up now. i have you know that this time im not going to be satisfied with any museum trips.

[His expression turns more serious than the situation warrants, nodding furiously.]

No museums. [He says quickly, eyes wide. He couldn't imagine ruining his chance with a repeat of last time. That had been enough of an embarrassment that he cringes a little now to have it brought up again.] Even with we land someplace with one, no. I think I learned my lesson last time. This will be less gross. No dead fish anywhere. That's a promise. I'll do better.

It’s not the fault of good old whiskey

/slides in here

ohgosh this is already awful hahah

no shhh it's beautiful trainwreck

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