A/N: I wanted to try my hand at writing drunk Yuri. I don't have a whole lot of experience with that stuff, so if anything seems kind of off, I apologize! Feel free to give me feedback if you'd like.

(I also developed a few minor characters just for this drabble.)

Flynn had just begun to remove his armor for the evening when he received a report of a disturbance of the peace. Evidently a drunken scuffle had broken out in a Lower Quarter tavern, and so with a sigh he donned the armor again and headed out into the night, accompanied by a pair of knights. It wasn't all that uncommon for them to receive this sort of report, but Flynn was exhausted by all his meetings from the day and wanted nothing more than to curl up under his sheets.

But like usual, his sense of duty outweighed his sense of self.

"Do we have descriptions of the culprits?" Flynn said.

"Yessir," the knight replied. "An older burly man, and a younger man with dark hair. I believe the younger one is Mister Lowell, sir."

Flynn resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Of course it was Yuri-hell, he wouldn't be surprised if his friend had been the one to start the fight. "Very well. Let's be going."

As he and two of his knights departed the castle, the light clink of armor was the only sound to fill the silence. When they reached the Lower Quarter a handful of citizens had gathered outside the tavern in question, speaking quietly amongst themselves. Upon noticing Flynn and his knights they fell quiet and stepped aside to allow access to the door. Even outside Flynn could hear the commotion stirring within, and as he crossed the threshold into the tavern found Yuri in the middle of a scuffle with a taller, stockier man. Yuri took a nasty hook to the face just then, stumbling backwards and nearly tripping over a chair. Blood dripped from his nose as he righted himself.

"That's enough," Flynn called. The commotion fell silent, Yuri and his opponent glancing his way. With a scowl Yuri pinched the bridge of his nose to try and staunch the bleeding. "What in the world is going on?"

"What's it look like to you?" Yuri retorted, his voice slurred. Definitely drunk.

"You are both ordered to cease hostilities at once, or you will receive punishment. Do I make myself clear?"

Evidently he had. Yuri grumbled, sitting in the chair he'd nearly stumbled over. The taller man approached him and his knights and bowed his head, and Flynn noticed the skin around his eye had turned an unsightly shade of purple.

"Sorry," the man spoke. "Got a little carried away there."

"We'll be taking your name down for this incident," Flynn replied. "I'll let you off with a warning this time, but if there is a repeat offense we'll take further action. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Flynn nodded to his knights and broke off to deal with Yuri, grabbing napkins before taking a seat beside him. Begrudgingly Yuri took the napkins he offered, fingertips stained red. Flynn motioned for the knights to head back without him—no way was he leaving Yuri to himself to try and get home. After assisting with the clean up at the tavern Flynn helped Yuri to his feet, the bleeding finally ceased. As he began to wobble Flynn pulled an arm over his shoulder.

This was going to be a long night.

Yuri half-walked, half-stumbled with him out of the tavern, grumbling incoherently all the while. The citizens Flynn had seen outside were still gathered around the door, but hurried aside as he walked by and apologized.

"What were you thinking, starting a fight in there?" he said once they were out of earshot of the group. Yuri muttered something under his breath. "Speak up. You're mumbling."

"She's dead," Yuri said, with more conviction this time. Flynn's footsteps faltered, heart thudding against his chest.

"Who is?" Names and faces flashed before his mind's eye. Not Lady Estellise; he would've gotten word right away. And it couldn't have been his other friends. They were too stubborn, too strong willed to face death just yet.

"It's not fair. She had so much going for her." Flynn halted and almost sent Yuri stumbling to the ground. He righted himself and shot Flynn a glare. "The hell're you doing?"

The scent of ale wafted past Flynn's nose when Yuri spoke, nearly making him gag. Just how much had he drank, anyway? "What are you going on about? Who died?"

"Inara," he said. "Old Lower Quarter friend. You prob'ly don't remember her."

Flynn was thrown back ten years, recalling a petite girl with hair dark as night. A girl who had oftentimes hung around Yuri and Flynn when they play fought with sticks, encouraging from the sidelines. This news of her passing made his heart drop to his stomach, and he struggled to keep the newfound emotions at bay.

"I do remember," he said. "I'm sorry to hear that. Is that why you were out drinking?"

Yuri kept quiet, gaze fixed on the ground. Flynn let out an exasperated sigh and fixed his grip on Yuri's arm before they continued down the road. No point trying to hold a conversation with him in this state. Their trek back to the Comet was difficult in the dimly-lit streets, forced to stop a few times to let Yuri empty his stomach. Once they returned Flynn carefully set Yuri him the floor against the wall. Repede trotted over, sniffing at Yuri and growling, and Flynn ignited the lantern. He grabbed clean rags and the garbage can before returning to Yuri's side, cleaning off his face despite Yuri's attempts to bat his hand away.

"Leave me alone," he grumbled.

"Not an option," replied Flynn. "You're drunk. There's no telling what'll happen if I leave you by yourself."

"Then quit yammering. It's giving me a headache."

"You wouldn't have one in the first place if you hadn't drank this much. Seriously, Yuri, this isn't like you."

His head thudded back against the wall as he let out a groan. "Just stop. Please."

Yuri pushed him aside then, ducking his head into the garbage. Flynn managed to pull his hair back just in time and let out a sigh—so much for a good night's sleep. Yuri spending his evening at a tavern wasn't anything new, but rarely did he drink himself into this state. Beneath them Repede rested his nose at Yuri's lap, and Yuri lazily patted his head.

"Why d'you care so much?" Yuri drawled, pulling his head from the garbage can. Flynn released his hair and sent it cascading down his shoulders. "You're a knight. You shouldn't be around someone like me."

"I'm your friend before anything else. Sure, you've given me more headaches than I can count—don't give me that look, you know it's true—but I can't bear the thought of something happening to you." A pause. "Of losing you."

He didn't understand why Yuri placed him on a pedestal, writing off his own qualities and reducing himself to nothing more than a criminal. If he lost Yuri he wasn't sure what he'd do; no one came even close to evoking that joy he did, even if he was reckless and caused more mischief than he should. Being apart he could handle. But the idea of him meeting an untimely death—Flynn didn't even want to dwell on it.

"Sorry," Yuri murmured. "For worrying you."

"At least you're still in one piece," Flynn teased. "Why were you fighting, anyway? Trying to prove your strength?"

He scoffed. "I'm not that stupid. He insulted her memory, is all."

"That still doesn't give you the right to start a barfight."

"He deserved it."

Didn't budge an inch, even when he was drunk. He'd argue til dawn if Flynn kept him going. "How's your nose?"

Yuri ran a finger along the bridge. "Hurts like hell."

"Then quit rubbing at it. Go have it looked at tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah." With a grimace he swallowed. "Grab me some water."

Flynn spared him a teasing reply and ventured to the washbasin, where a pitcher and glass sat on the stand. Before he returned with the water he rummaged around until he found a string to tie Yuri's hair back with. Just in case his stomach acted up again. Yuri thanked him with a small smile as Flynn handed him the glass. With some difficulty he set the rim to his lips—and nearly spilled it down his shirt. Should've known. Flynn helped him down the water and Yuri set the glass down to rest back against the wall.

"You really should stop being so reckless," Flynn said. "One of these days, you may end up doing something you can't take back."

"Not in the mood," Yuri groaned. "Just let me sleep—" He scrambled for the garbage then and leaned his head inside, hair nearly tumbling in with it. But after a moment he returned to his seat. "False alarm."

"Here." Flynn gently tilted him forward and slipped the string beneath his curtain of hair, pulling it up and tying it in place. "No need to get your hair all dirty too."

"Why not just braid it while you're at it?"

"Have a retort for everything, don't you." Flynn sat beside him. "You should ask Lady Estellise. I'm sure she'd be happy to."

"Yeah, yeah." He started to shift away. "Take that damn armor off if you're gonna sit by me."

He certainly was cranky tonight. But Flynn supposed he couldn't blame him. He set to work removing at least the pauldrons and gauntlets, glad to have at least some of that weight off his shoulders, and leaned back. It wasn't long before Yuri's weight rested against his shoulder.

"You gonna throw me in prison for this?" Yuri murmured, fatigue seeping out through his voice. "For the fight?"

"No. I think you understand the weight of your actions. Just don't do it again, or it'll be ten days like usual."


Flynn got the feeling he hadn't really comprehended the reply. Soon enough Yuri fell still, and for a while they sat in peace, his slow breathing the only sound to break the quiet. Sleep was beginning to entice Flynn as well, his head snapping up every time he felt it loll forward. It had been a long time, years even, since they'd had a chance to sit still and enjoy each other's company. He didn't care to keep track of time, and would've been fine spending the rest of the night at Yuri's side—forget the comfort of his bed back at the castle. Yuri needed the company, needed him, even if he wouldn't admit it.

But it was a wish he couldn't fulfill tonight.

"I need to head back," Flynn said, nudging at Yuri.

He only mumbled in his sleep. Slow as could be Flynn shifted away and scooped Yuri up, finding him to be lighter than he'd thought. He'd been able to lift Yuri as a kid as well—but that was years ago, and they'd both grown significantly since then. Hopefully his job with Brave Vesperia was providing enough for them to live off. He didn't wan't Yuri disappearing on him too, like Inara, going somewhere Flynn couldn't follow. To his surprise Yuri didn't protest one bit as Flynn lay him in bed and set him on his side. As he brought the garbage pail to the bed Repede padded over and nudged at his leg.

"Hey, boy," Flynn said, kneeling to his level and scratching at his ears. Repede leaned in to the touch. "Make sure he stays on his side, okay?"

Flynn wasn't sure if he understood his words, but he always seemed to understand when Yuri talked. Repede ruffed in response and hopped onto Yuri's bed, curling up against his back.

"That a boy. Sleep well, you two."

After sliding back into his armor Flynn extinguished the lantern, and when he moved to pull the door open he heard Yuri mumble a word of gratitude. Flynn merely threw a smile his way before he exited the room and let out a sigh once he was out in the night. Wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight. But he didn't mind. He'd do whatever he needed to keep Yuri happy and healthy, to keep him moving toward that future they'd fought so hard for.

Because with Yuri, he felt like he could handle anything the world threw his way.