Title: Even the Best Fall Down Sometimes

Rating: M

Summary: Jackson's drunk and Aaron is forced to take him home. It's strange because Aaron is usually the irresponsible one. Aarson. Jackson/Aaron.

A/N: Thank you for reading. Review please.

If I lay here...If I just lay here...

Would you just lie with me and forget the whole world?

-Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

Even the Best Fall Down Sometimes

Jackson weighed one hundred and twenty pounds. Being a builder, it was one hundred and twenty pounds of pure muscle, no fat to be spoken of. Muscle is heavier than fat as a rule. Still, Aaron figured he could pick Jackson up and carry him around on any day. However, as Jackson leaned heavily against Aaron whose arm was wrapped tightly around his waist, Aaron thought he just might have been wrong in his initial assessment. The smell of alcohol nearly overwhelmed Jackson's usual scent of shaving cream and cologne. He wasn't coordinated, tripping on his shoes and starting forward at odd intervals. He was barely even trying to walk, laughing himself silly at the stupidest of things.

"Shut up, would you? You're the loudest thing on the road," Aaron hissed when Jackson managed to trip over a pothole and fall on his hands and knees. He was laughing so loud, Aaron thought he might just wake the neighbors.

"Calm down, mate! There's nothing here but you and me," Jackson managed to choke out, nose pressed to the dust. Aaron sighed and, grabbing Jackson's arms, hauled him to his feet. The builder stumbled into his chest. "Whoa," he breathed, shaking his head and using Aaron to steady himself.

"Yeah, whoa. One more pint and I'd be dragging you home in a body bag." His tone of voice was harsh, but even in the dark one could see the tenderness in his eyes. Wrapping Jackson's arm around his neck again, he put his arms about his waist and started forward. "Come on. You've got to crash at mine. That's all there is to it."

"Paddy'll love me for that," Jackson said in a moment of levity, speech slurred.

"Oh, yeah, he'll probably tear you a new one," Aaron groaned sarcastically as he lifted the stumbling builder over another pothole. "Right, he likes you more than he likes me."

"That's 'cause he hasn't known me as long as I have." Jackson stopped mid-stride and paused at that, knowing there was something wrong with his sentence but not knowing quite what. When he stopped, Aaron was forced to cease movement as well and almost dragged them both down.

"This is hopeless!" Aaron roared, throwing up his hands. "At this rate, we might be home at sunup. Can you just keep moving?"

"You have to say please," he replied in a singsong voice, taking a few steps backwards as the ground swayed beneath him. He shook his head and groaned, fingertips pressing over his eyelids.

Aaron was pacing in a small circle. "Okay, look," he announced finally, taking hold of Jackson's shoulders with hard fingers that dug into his bones, "we're going to cut through that field. At this rate, we'll be back to the village in maybe an hour if you don't get sick on the way. Cut through that field, and we'll be back in twenty minutes."

"Sounds like a plan, but you still didn't say please," Jackson replied. Aaron ignored his lover, and yanked him around.

"Come on." Like some sort of dizzy freak show for a circus, the two lunged forward, Aaron trying his best to keep Jackson on a straight path and watch out for rabbit holes or anything he might be able to trip in. Difficult that because Jackson was tripping on just about everything. The lights of the village were far off in the distance, and Aaron started to once again regret not taking the bus. He hadn't wanted Jackson to get sick and the motion of the vehicle probably wouldn't have helped any. He'd never seen Jackson so drunk before, and he didn't know how to handle the situation.

The moon shone overhead to light their way, thousands of tiny stars helping along. In the field, the grass was teeming with tiny diamonds of water. It had rained previously that day. Sweet grass and the smell of earthy midnight helped to overpower the stench of alcohol. Grasshoppers chirped the night away. Distantly, the roar of the interstate, always busy, attempted to drown out nature. Honking cars and winking lights teased from behind.

They were halfway across the field when one of them tripped. Surprisingly, it wasn't Jackson. Aaron got his large foot stuck in a rabbit hole and toppled forward, grabbing onto Jackson's black band tee in hopes of recovery. Unfortunately, Jackson was not paying attention and lacked the balance to properly rescue his lover. They fell, Aaron on his back with his slightly smaller builder sprawled across his chest. Water soaked into Aaron's white sweatshirt, spreading across his back as the cotton absorbed it. Jackson was laughing again, mouth pressed into the mechanic's shoulder, hands tangled in the front of his shirt.

"Nice one, mate!" he chuckled, warm breath wafting across Aaron's face.

"Oh, shut up," Aaron spat, grabbing his shoulders and lifting him up. Jackson hung there like a rag doll, a heavy rag doll, and continued to laugh uncontrollably. "It wasn't two minutes ago you were the one falling. The grass is wet out here." He sat up.

"Wasn't the grass," Jackson pointed out. Aaron glanced down at his ruined white sneaker. The entire front of it was stained brown with clods of dirt.

"You know," Aaron sighed, leaning back, "I guess I've met worse drunks than you." His hands pressed into the soft earth, dirt coming up between his fingers.

Jackson laughed, putting both hands on the sides of Aaron's face and mashing his cheeks together. "I'll take that as a compliment," he grinned crookedly.

"Get off," the mechanic snapped, pulling at his thin wrists. "You're certainly more sensible than most of the drunks I've known. I can have a bloody conversation with you at least."

Seeming to sober a bit, Jackson wiped at his face. "I have experience," he whispered, eyes glancing down at Aaron's mouth. That was when Aaron realized just how compromising their situation really was. Jackson was incredibly close, his clothes mussed, hair in disarray. He was also straddling Aaron's hips, brown eyes darkening in their lust.

"You're drunk," Aaron scoffed, but there was no venom in the words. His mouth was going dry as he wet his lips.

Jackson's laugh was a bit breathless. "We've, um, established that, mate," he replied, hands coming up again. This time, they buried themselves in Aaron's cropped hair, fingers pulling at the short locks. "I'm not the only one who had a few pints."

"A few!"

A car whipped around the corner about fifty feet from where they were laying. Aaron's head snapped immediately to the blinding lights he caught out of the corner of his vision, but Jackson was otherwise preoccupied. He dragged Aaron's mouth to his in a demanding, eager kiss that tasted purely of hops. Aaron yelped in surprise, eyes still cast toward the car, but Jackson pushed him down and devoured his mouth. The car went by without pausing at all, though the lights, Aaron was sure, had swept right over them.

Intruding on his mouth with a tongue, Jackson's fingers unzipped his boyfriend's sweatshirt and deft fingers slid over his torso. Aaron groaned. Under normal circumstances he might have stopped the kiss, pushed Jackson off, told him he was drunk and being daft, but they hadn't touched intimately in days. As much as he tried to deny it, his body was working better than his mind. It didn't even occur to him that someone could walk upon them, that they were tired, that Jackson was drunk and their inhibitions were lowered. He just put his hand on the back of Jackson's neck and pulled him closer, tasting the sweetness of cheap beer and cookies. A cloy, underlying taste flavored the kiss. It was purely Jackson. Jackson's taste, the scent of his skin beneath all the other coverups: that was what attracted Aaron.

Soft, clumsy fingers were toying with his belt. "Jackson! Jackson, wait," Aaron breathed, breaking away from the kiss. Making out in the middle of the field was one thing, but getting completely naked and going all the way? That was something entirely different. Aaron grabbed Jackson's hands in a steely grip, halting all movement. "Look, it's nearly morning. We should go."

Jackson tried to kiss him again. "Aaron," he whined, voice husky and low. "Please."

The sound went straight to his groin, and he glanced away though it was too dark for Jackson to see the blush on his face. After a moment of hesitation, he put his hand on Jackson's neck and pulled him in for another kiss hard on the mouth. Jackson responded eagerly, going back to unbuckling his belt and tossing it aside. Aaron lifted his hips up to allow Jackson to remove his jeans. Well, remove wasn't really the word. Jackson sort of shimmied them down his hips and left them around his knees. He couldn't be bothered in his hazy mind to remove the clothing all the way.

Aaron's fingers went under the hem of Jackson's shirt—it was a thin, black band tee; Jackson knew it was Aaron's favorite shirt—and pulled it up over his head. Jackson lifted his arms for easier access as Aaron threw it aside somewhere about where he figured his belt was. Immediately, Aaron's hands skimmed down the hot flesh of Jackson's wiry muscles. He was thin, but he wasn't undefined. Aaron's hands rested on his abdomen, tracing the hard abdominal muscles as he worked on Jackson's mouth, responding eagerly at the encouraging moans.

Touching a woman was nothing like touching a man. There were so many differences to wrap his head around. Everything was hot and messy, sticky and mixed with a bit of pain when he had sex with Jackson. Having sex with Holly had been a test in self-control. He'd had to hold back and try not to hurt her. He'd had to kiss her and caress her and whisper sweet things. Jackson didn't expect that, drunk or sober. It was all about the pleasure of both parties, and that he could appreciate.

Jackson's hand dipped below his underwear and wrapped around his member. Aaron froze, still not used to the sensation even though he clearly enjoyed it, and arched his back away from Jackson, disconnecting their mouths. He didn't miss the small, breathless chuckle. Who could? Out in the middle of nowhere, he could suddenly hear every sound he made as though it echoed off the distant trees. Soft, intermittent squeezes had him writhing on the ground, fingers digging into the ground and tearing at grass. Jackson leaned down to kiss him, bare chest pressing against Aaron's clothed one.

Aaron sat up again and wrapped his arm around Jackson's neck, never one to be submissive in any situation. His other hand tackled Jackson's belt. Then, he removed his trousers all the way. When Jackson separated from him, he took the opportunity to kick his own jeans off the rest of the way. They were both down to their underwear by that point. Jackson's hot, pliant mouth slanted over one of Aaron's nipples, tongue running over the bud. Aaron's hand snaked down over his flat stomach and wrapped around the most private part of Jackson, forcing him to arch gainst Aaron and duck his head into his shoulder.

After only just a few strokes, Jackson gasped, "Stop!" and kissed him again, tongue entering his mouth. Removing their underwear, he crawled on top of Aaron. The delicious friction of skin on skin made them both gasp. Jackson pressed their erections together and began to pump, whispering Aaron's name over and over like a mantra. Soon, he could take it anymore, and they both fell into ecstasy. Aaron moaned louder than any type of laughter Jackson might possibly be able to dream up. Jackson collapsed on top of his lover, covering his neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Aaron dragged his nails down Jackson's back and kissed his cheek, rolling on top of him. Being careful with his weight, he lay on his side with Jackson tucked beneath his shoulder.

"That was stupid," Aaron whispered breathlessly.

"You enjoyed it," Jackson grinned if a bit guiltily.

Aaron's eyes widened. "You're not even drunk, are you? I don't believe it. You were winding me up, weren't you?" He felt anger surge through him.

"Drunk, yes," Jackson said against his chest. "Maybe not falling down drunk, but I probably wouldn't have been able to get home without you."

"You're not home, you slimy prat," Aaron said gesturing about them furiously. "We're in the middle of a field." Jackson didn't answer. Aaron glanced down and couldn't believe his eyes.

Jackson was sleeping, his bare chest rising and falling in rhythm. For one hazy moment, Aaron reached out to shake him awake but thought better of it. Instead, he cursed and fell back on the grass, wiping the sweat from his brow. If he just rested for a minute...

Aaron woke up with the bright sun searing the flesh on his face. A pounding like a drum was starting behind his eyes. He blinked groggily upwards before shielding his face and groaning. "What the hell?" he demanded, sitting up.

Kneeling across from him fully dressed in his t-shirt and dark jeans was Jackson with the biggest frown on his face he'd ever seen. "I was just about to ask you, mate. Though I had the pleasure of waking up first in the most compromising position I've ever been in, mind you, and with the biggest hangover I've ever had."

The events of the night before came back in a flood of memories. He shook his head and swallowed, glancing at Jackson. "You don't remember anything?"

"Yeah, I remember most of it," Jackson replied. "I just thought we'd get up and go home after our little dalliance in the field, you know."

"What?" Aaron snorted. "Did you think I was going to carry you home? I'd had enough to drink, as well. I was tired."

Jackson tisked. "So you take me out, get me drunk, then take advantage of me in a field of all places. You've got to be the worst date I've ever had, you know?" Then, he glanced downwards and held up Aaron's belt. "You might also want to get dressed before someone else drives by."

"Someone else?" Aaron repeated incredulously, hopping to his feet and hunting for his underwear.

"How d'you think I woke up this morning? It wasn't the bloody birds," Jackson grinned crookedly.

"This is all your fault!" Aaron hissed, pulling up his jeans. "Why did you have to go to sleep? We could have still made it home. Paddy is gonna take the mickey out of me."

"Thought you'd be used to that by now."

Aaron sneered and buckled his belt. "What time is it?"

"Time for us both to get to work," Jackson replied, glancing at his watch but not offering the time. "Think we can make it home in twenty minutes?"

After a moment of contemplation, Aaron realized he couldn't really be mad at Jackson. After all, they'd both been drunk, and it takes two to tango. Besides, Jackson was being very understanding for a man with a horrible hangover. Aaron sighed and then grinned and pushed Jackson's shoulder playfully.

"As long as we don't fall down again."

Just another oneshot. Hey, there had to be a drunken pwp at one point, eh? At least one. The others will be more meaningful as I think writing just smut fics depreciates their value as a couple. Thank you for all the positive feedback. Thank you for reading. Review, please.