Disclaimer: I do not own Hancock or Of Mice and Men.
A/N: This is not really slash because what you do when you're drunk doesn't really count, and because it doesn't go far at all. And no, I don't believe that the movie supported this pairing, I was just watching this movie with my friends, and since we're all obsessed with slash/yaoi/etc, this came to mind. Again, it's not really slash, and I'm not shipping this pairing.
"Why does your wife hate me?" I asked Ray as I scooped him up. He was drunk, and I carried him into his house. Mary was fixing something about the car. He was slung over my shoulder. I felt on my arm that he had a crazy hard-on. That was awkward, but someone had to get the man up the stairs.
He mumbled something incoherent and I tossed him onto his bed. He lay there, sprawled out, and he looked so pathetic and helpless. He was making little sounds of happiness.
"Okay, man, I'm gonna get your shoes off."
He raised a finger drunkenly. "But that's all you're getting off."
That made me chuckle inwardly. I could have left then. I should have left then. I almost did, but something made me stay. I plopped down next to him, sitting. He propped himself up. "What's wrong?" he slurred. Happy drunk. I hadn't had anything to drink, but it was late. Just at that time where you're over-tired and you'll do almost anything. So I told him.
"I'm... alone," I said simply. I didn't need to go spilling everything, even if I was about to pass out.
He hefted himself up all the way and put an arm around me.
"You're not alone," he said, "You have me. AND I HAVE YOU! Ha ha, it's like Of Mice and Men with the strong guy and the little smart guy." He hiccupped.
I rolled my eyes. But I couldn't make myself leave his warm kindness.
"I know I've never said it, but I love you, man."
My whole body froze. I hadn't heard that before. To me, that is. Ever. I was glad I was too shocked to cry.
"Come 'mere," he said.
I turned to look at him, and he leaned forward and his lips met mine. The only way I could avoid throwing him across the room was to not move at all. And as he deepened the kiss a bit I found I didn't want to.
Yes he was a... man. Bleh. It was a little strange. But this much human contact, tender affection, was irresistible. I had never... I couldn't remember feeling loved. 80 years, alone. It does things to your mind. Like makes a straight man enjoy being kissed by another drunk straight man with a hot wife downstairs.
So yes, I kissed him back. And when he didn't pull away, I pushed him over gently and balanced over him, still kissing him.
He sighed happily and fell asleep.
I slowly lay down next to him, on my back, careful not to disturb him. Not that anything short of an air horn would be able to wake him. He rolled over in his sleep and his arm came across me. The muscles in my face did a struggling twitch thing as they rejected the tears that pricked my eyes.
Man. How pathetic was I? Crying, almost, because a happy drunk guy had shown some kindness to me?
"'Night John," he said.
With just those two words, all my shame, fear, and reserve snapped before I could stop them. I finally cried, although I was still able to force it to be silent. Even if I had wanted to, I don't think I could have moved.
He was warm. Alive. Kind.
I allowed myself to fall asleep in his arms.
A few minutes later, Mary walked into the room to find her husbands cuddling with each other on her bed. "Okay then." She turned on her heels. She did NOT want to know.
When I woke up, Ray was not in the bed. I remembered the kiss. Time to go see if he remembered it, too. I went downstairs.
He smiled at me, holding a cup of coffee. "Hey. I was really drunk last night, huh?"
"Uh... yeah. Um..."
"Yes, I remember."
"Oh... right. Sorry about that."
"No, I was the drunk one and I started it. Thanks for not throwing me across the room. And for not taking advantage of me."
"Why would I do that?"
He just smiled. "I'd appreciate it if we didn't tell Mary."
"Yeah. No problem. Um... I'm just gonna... go...
"Alright. See you later."
"Yeah..." I shook my head and took off once I had used the door (which is good PR).
I thought furiously as I flew. I could still feel his warmth, still feel a lightness that I hadn't had before. But to him it was a random drunken slash moment. It wasn't that I was upset because it hadn't meant anything to him. I was just trying to figure out why it didn't when it meant so much to me.
But I knew the answer, as much as I was embarrassed to admit it. He had a family. Friends. A wife. A job. A purpose.
I had no family, no wife, no job.
But I had a purpose.
And now I knew I had a friend.