Chapter Text
It was late, and he’d had far too much to drink. The taste of cheap tequila rolled over his tongue as he took another sip anyway. Throwing his head from side to side to the beat of a random song that thrummed through his senses.
Sirius stood there swaying. Eyes closed, and seeing the club lights change through his eyelids. He could have been there for an hour or thirty seconds; it was hard to tell.
He could feel the glances of other club patrons on him. Eyes soaking him in, gazes searing into his already flushed skin. He didn't mind; he rather enjoyed when people watched, knowing they appreciated him. Several men had already come to proposition him, but he turned them away and continued dancing alone. That wasn't what tonight was about.
So he let his hands run over his chest, feeling the soft, sheer fabric beneath his fingertips. The small beading on his top caught on his touch. Moving his hands up to reach the back of his neck, he lifted his black curls away from his hot skin.
He wished it were cooler, or that a strong breeze would wash over him. He was sweating on the sweltering dance floor, his hair sticking to his face. With every sway, he bumped into other fevered bodies around him.
Without warning, he felt a hand clasp around his wrist and pull him, nearly knocking him off balance.
“Siri! We g–gotta head out ss–oon, it's getting late.”
James came swimming into view as he regained his balance and opened his eyes, Peter right behind him, smirking at the two of them.
He could feel the scowl on his face as he took them in. James was just as wasted as he was, but not Pete. The fucker never drank. James thought it was because Peter's mother was an alcoholic and he was cautious. He, on the other hand, was sure Pete maintained his cognition solely so he could laugh at his friends when they were drunk.
Leveling a glare at Pete, he squinted and went to take a step forward but felt the world tilt instead. A twisting in his gut told him exactly what was about to happen.
He could see the recognition on James's face as he quickly released his wrist and moved out of the way. Taking the opportunity, he ran from the dance floor. Pushing his way into the bathroom to find an empty stall to relieve his discomfort.
He was panting over the loo when the door opened again, and a pair of footsteps followed him in. A warm hand rested on his back as he was bent over and pulled his hair back from his face.
Peter wrinkled his nose. “This is why I don't drink. Just look at you two, completely sloshed. Messy.”
“Shut up, Pete, you just t–ook all the good dec–isions for yourself," James slurred.
“Did I James?” Pete responded with a laugh, clearly unbothered by his friend's drunken shenanigans as he continued holding Sirius's hair and rubbing between his shoulder blades.
He heard James mumble something else that made Pete huff a laugh, though he didn't respond, making James whine, “I'm bored."
“You're more than capable of entertaining yourself for a bit, mate.”
Sirius was trying to follow along, but his senses returned to the task his stomach had set, and it took a few minutes before he came back to the conversation.
Pete sounded beyond exasperated: “No prongs, I will not be licking anything in this bathroom, thank you very much.”
“You’re no fuuunnn.” James sighed, far too loudly as Sirius rediscovered how his muscles worked and stood, leaning on the side of the stall. “Siri, it's yo– your turn.”
“My turn for what?” His head had started pounding, and his sobriety was slowly returning. It was definitely time to head home.
“Truth or d–dare?” James said pleasantly.
He sighed and tried to open his eyes again. Pete had stepped out of the stall and was leaning on the sink with a bottle of water in his hand, held out in Sirius's direction. “Dare.”
“Brilliant!” James swayed against the wall he was leaning on, glancing around the room as he thought. Sirius took the time to rinse his mouth and drink some of the water. “Oh! I dare you to text this number!” he said, pointing to the door of the last stall.
Turning toward James, he lifted his foot to walk over when a hand grabbed his shoulder to stop him. “I don't think that's a great idea. We should get you both home," Pete said.
Sirius rebalanced himself and shrugged him off, “Dare's a dare. No harm.”
He walked over to the stall, finding the number written in blocky black Sharpie with "Text for a good time" and something slightly resembling a winky face doodled underneath it.
Sirius started typing…
[01:56]
S: Heard I should text this number for a good time?
He ambled over to James, holding up his phone to show him that he had indeed texted the number. Then, pocketing the phone, he followed Pete out of the club and to the bus stop, with James trailing behind them.
—
The three of them were crammed onto the bench under the lamppost to wait for the bus, which was expected in about 10 minutes, so long as it was running on time.
Pete was starting to show signs of exhaustion, and James was humming the same clipped bars of a song over and over. He was thankful the ride to his and James's flat wouldn't be too long, either. He was oh so ready to tumble into his bed.
The bus pulled up, and he helped Pete direct James onto the bus, pushing him down into an aisle seat and collapsing into the window seat himself. When they started moving, he rested his head against the cool glass and watched the lights pass for a moment before they started to make him dizzy.
James immediately rested his head on his shoulder and passed out, drooling on him while Pete sat across from them on his phone.
If he let himself, he could fall asleep right here and be perfectly content. In fact, he was on the verge of the abyss when his phone going off pulled him back into reality.
[02:12]
?: You and about 45 other people have heard that rumor, which I can gladly tell you is an abysmal fabrication.
He stared at the screen for a moment, trying to make sense of what he was reading. Not that he didn't understand the words. Or that he was confused about who was saying them, though he had no idea. It was really more the general happenstance of it all. Which is perhaps the reason he decided to respond.
[02:16]
S: Lots of big words coming from someone responding to a text at 2 a.m. Haven't you heard that nothing good ever happens after 2 a.m.?
The reply came in an instant, or at least it felt that way.
[02:17]
?: I hadn't heard that, but it sounds reasonable. Though I'd perhaps argue that nothing good ever happens in general.
S: That's a very concerning way to look at life. I mean, look at the bright side; you're texting me, and I'm great.
?: Didn't you just say that nothing good happens after 2 a.m.?
[02:18]
S: Ah. Yes, I did. But I failed to mention that rules are meant to be broken.
[02:19]
?: Well, that explains the inebriated delinquent vibe I was getting.
S: You wound me - Sir? Madam? Gentleperson? - I would hate to insult you, random stranger, but I haven't got a clue.
?: Sir, if you must.
[02:20]
S: I feel I must, kind sir. I was promised a ‘good time,' and that requisite has not been fulfilled.
?: Glad to know my witty exchange has been lost on you… sir?
S: Good guess. He/him, indeed.
?: I generally don't assume, but if I recall, my number was written in the men's room. Not that that means much, but I had circumstantial evidence.
S: Solid sleuthing, colour me impressed.
[02:23]
?: Impressed enough to call this a ‘good time' and disappear back into the ether?
S: Alas, sad stranger, I do not yet feel my curiosity quenched.
[02:24]
?: Who said I was sad? And also, I believe the requisite was entertainment, not satisfying your curiosity.
S: Need I remind you that you said nothing good ever happens? If that's not sad, I don't know what is.
?: Touché.
Sirius's attention was stolen from his screen by rapid snapping in his face. He looked up to see Peter lean across and shake James awake.
They were nearly at their flat.
[02:26]
S: I am at my bus stop. Got to get home safe, and texting and walking aren't the way to do that, even if I was sober.
?: Ah, so I was right about the inebriated part.
[02:37]
?: Farewell, random drunk stranger.