I finally got back into my house, thank god XD, so I thought I'd get this posted now – even though it's technically the second and I officially fail - before I collapse to wake up at some point on Tuesday, if I'm lucky enough. Anyway, this is my secret santa entry for Chellen. It isn't exactly what was asked for, but it's the best I could do, ;p.
I combined the prompt of Smirnoff Ice and it's connotations of being 'poof juice' with something Newyork14-7's said in the same thread, (I think it was just because he was a bit wet at times, the most by the rules and sometimes I wanted to yell 'man up') to come up with what I did. Hope you guys like it!
Everyone loves a bit of Smirnoff Ice
The sun was setting behind the grey tower blocks of cement that graced the Glasgow skyline, casting long shadows against the already gloomy streets. As D.I. Robbie Ross quickly strode through the deserted scheme, he couldn't keep his eyes from darting from side to side, searching for any possible harm that could come to him in such a dodgy area. He almost felt like he could feel eyes on him, burning into his back in malice, but it was only in his imagination, paranoid thoughts left over from a day spent with people who would take any chance to get a swing at him.
As another gust of wind ruffled his coat, he crossed the street to turn into another one of the small lanes that were dotted throughout the estate, shivering despite the many layers he was wearing. He wished he had been able to bring his car, but he couldn't risk the temptation of driving home after he had had a couple, and besides, it wasn't the best of areas to leave his baby. Absently, he wondered why Stuart had picked such a place to meet up, and it crossed his mind to pull him up over it once he reached his destination.
The thought was immediately driven from his mind however as he stepped into the pub, the warmth from within making him sigh in relief. He could see Stuart already sitting at the bar, his blond head standing out in the dark surroundings as he twirled an almost empty bottle around in his hand, impatiently looking at his watch. Robbie smiled at his apparent agitation, knowing full well that he was running a little late.
The rest of the room was rather empty, only a few regulars dotted about. There was only one other patron sitting near to where Stuart was, but the short, bald man was so intent on the drink in front of him that he barely seemed aware of his surroundings. Unwinding his scarf, he quickly covered the few feet that separated him from the bar, his long legs making quick work of the space. His team mate was so engrossed in his task that he didn't notice him until he laid a hand on his shoulder, startling him from his reverie.
"Robbie!" He exclaimed happily as he turned round to face him."You took your time."
"Left my car at the station and walked it," he explained as he continued to take of his friend only smiled at his unsaid apology, waving a hand at the barman to indicate he was ready for another order. On seeing he was wanted, the heavyset man lifted the cloth he was using to wipe down the counter and slung it over his shoulder before lazily making his way over to were they where standing, bracing his weight down onto large beefy hands as he leaned on the bar in front of them.
"What'll you be havin'?" He asked, his voice gravelly and harsh.
"Two Smirnoff Ice's please," Stuart ordered, smiling at the man as Robbie sat down beside him.
"Sounds about right," the drunk Robbie had noticed at the end of the bar muttered before draining the rest of his drink. The glass knocked dully against the wood of the counter as he thumped it back down, the noise making Robbie's frown deepen.
"What's that?" He demanded, staring at the haggard looking man beside them more thoroughly. By the looks of it, his first assertions about him were right. The craggy, unshaven face, rumpled clothing and bloated features clearly pointed to someone who spent a lot of time holding up the end of a bar, but Robbie couldn't find it in himself to deal with him like he normally would in his capacity as a police officer.
"Nothing," the grey haired man appeased, his arms raising up in a show of defence, "I just think what a man drinks says a lot about his character."
"So what does your pint say about you other than hint at your rabid alcoholism?" Robbie asked sarcastically despite Stuarts restraining hand on his arm.
"Just drop it Robbie!" Stuart stated fiercely, "I've heard worse.
" As he turned to look at his friend in disbelief, Robbie couldn't help the twinge of disgust that momentarily coursed through him. Stuart was a good friend and a great policeman, but there were still times when Robbie feared he would never stand up for himself. Never break the rules and just let go. Hell, to his knowledge the only bold thing he had ever did was be a gay policeman in Glasgow, but that was a hardly a choice.
"Fine," he muttered angrily before downing the rest of his drink and grinning broadly, "but you're buying the next round as well."
"Same again?" Stuart questioned, nodding towards Robbie's now empty bottle.
"Actually, I think I might try a Turbo Shandy," he ventured, nodding towards the barman as if to emphasis the point.
"Turbo shandy?" Stuart asked quizzically, glad that Robbie had given up so easily.
"Half lager, half Smirnoff Ice," the barman responded boredly before Robbie had the chance. "D'you want one as well?"
"No, I'll just have the same again thanks," Stuart replied, handing a tenner over to the scowling barman. "Keep the change," he added, smiling brightly. Unfortunately, his attempt at humour fell short as the grim look on the barman's face refused to change. It was a look they saw a lot of that night, especially as they got louder and more merry, but he never stopped handing them their drinks so they were able to look past his attitude rather easily. In fact, after the first half hour they failed to see him as anything other than the arm that was connected to their drinks.
After a few rounds, a bit of catching up and an argument over football, they fell back to rehashing over old times. In the middle of one such retelling, Stuart's arms were gesturing wildly as he recounted a seemingly run of mill case in which he had been forced to jump into the Clyde in order to avoid getting hit by a car. He was just getting to the part where he had fallen over some scrap metal on the ground, and the car – a stolen black peugeot driven by an extremely high and panicked teen aged boy –was baring down on him, when he was interrupted by a loud bark of laughter. Turning around, both Stuart and Robbie where rather shocked to see that the same drunk from before still at his place at the end of the counter.
He was looking at them in disgust, his face twisted into a scowl. "You're the police? I knew they were going downhill but that's just a laugh!" He stated before snorting in amusement. "Who'd let a poof in a uniform?"
"You're still here?" Robbie demanded, angrily. "But then again where else would you be," he muttered, or at least thought he did. The amount of alcohol he had drank on an empty stomach had went straight to his head, diminishing his ability to control the level of his voice.
"What d'ya mean?" The drunk responded, her words slurring together as he glared at the both of them.
"What do I mean?" He asked rhetorically, turning to Stuart and laughing as if he had said something genuinely funny. "I mean, you're a drunken, bigoted, low-life little -"
"Robbie!" Stuart shouted, all happiness gone from his face as he held back his friend for the second time that night, stopping him from doing something he would come to regret. "Just, leave it," he pleaded as he began to half coerce, half drag him back towards the door of the pub, just managing to grab their outer things as he went before he was shrugged off, the door hitting him in the face as Robbie crashed through it into the night.
Rubbing his aching nose, he grasped the metal handle of the door with his free hand and threw it open, slamming it against the back wall in anger. "What is your problem?" He demanded as he finally located Robbie leaning against the wall of the pub beside the door, his gaze unsteady as he looked back at him. "You couldn't just leave it alone could you?" He asked, almost desperately.
"Well you weren't doing anything about it."
The muttered response only seemed to incense the young detective, driving him closer to his friend as he raised his hand, aggressively pointing a finger into Robbie's face to stress his point. "I didn't need to do anything about it Robbie. He's just some jakey that barely knows what he's talking about. "
"Or maybe you were just too feart," Robbie suggested, voicing his earlier thoughts.
"Feart?" Stuart parroted, his voice almost emotionless. "You think I'm scared? Of what? Of him?"
"Of everything," Robbie drawled. "You never seem to stand up for yourself, never do anything rash or just...well anything," he continued rather inarticulately. "You've got a bit of a reputation for it actually."
For a moment, Stuart could only stare in disbelief, but then his anger returned in a rush that seemed to drive all logic out. All he could think of was showing Robbie just how wrong he was, doing something that would completely change his skewed opinion of him. Even with that train of thought, his next move surprised even him.
They were already standing close to each other, their argument bringing them within inches of each other, and so it didn't take much for Stuart to step forward and pull Robbie's head down with both hands before crushing his lips against his. Their was only a little resistance on Robbie's part, mostly out of surprise, before he returned the gesture with fervour, his tongue gliding over Stuarts lips as he slammed the younger man into the wall.
The sharp edges of the pebble-dashed wall were digging into Stuarts back, scratching at the exposed skin where his shirt had ridden. He barely felt it though, or rather, he failed to care about it once Robbie's hands pulled him closer to deepen the kiss, rending nearly all thought impossible.