2007-10-05: From Russia With Booze


Felix_icon.gif William_icon.gif

Summary: Felix comes stops by Will's apartment to apologize for being a jerk. Plus vodka.

Date It Happened: October 5, 2007

From Russia With Booze

William's Apartment

So. Awkward dinner party was awkward. Poor Misha. Poor everyone. It's a few days later, and Fel has been radio silent. But he shows up at Will's door in the early evening, with a peace offering. Which happens to be two bottles of absolutely exquisite vodka - pure as mountain air, cold as a KGB director's heart. He's stopped on the way to do some comparison shopping, as it were - there's already the beginnings of a flush on the pale cheeks, as he knocks on Will's door.

William moves to answer the door with a blink to Felix. It's not who he expected to see after that awkward dinner party. Will is dressed in just a pair of board shorts, no shirt. He was hanging out alone and not expecting anyone, after all. "Oh, Felix. Come in."

Fel hesitates a moment, but steps in. He's in his usual suit, though the tie is gone and the shirt is open at the collar. "Hey," he says, uncomfortably. "I came to apologize for the other evening. I really fumbled that across the board." Nevermind that he's now sporting a ring as well, though oddly on his right hand - a triple interwoven band of rose, white, and yellow gold.

William looks over to Felix. "You get the right to make whatever choices you want in your life. I may not understand them, but they get to be yours." William states, moving away from the door to make a sweeping motion inside.

"That's kind of you to say, but it doesn't excuse the way in which I did or didn't drop the news. It was rude of me, and unkind, really," Fel says, stepping in to let him shut the door behind him. "I've a peace offering," he says, presenting the bag with the bottles in it. Not a brand that's easily found - something called Kubanskaya.

William looks over to the bag with a smile. "Well, if you bring good alcohol, you're definitely welcome here." William jokes before he shakes his head. "There was never anything between us but attraction. You don't have to answer to me on the choices you make for your life."

"None but the best," Fel says, a touch facetiously. "Choices are one thing. Bad manners are another," he says, simply, handing off the bottles. "Namir rightly read me the riot act on the subject."

William looks over to Felix. "Score one for Namir, I guess. He's come around a lot from being freaked out when he realized I was gay." William states, before he takes the bottle. He's an ex-SEAL. He knows how to drink. "Want anything to mix that with?" Or are they doing straight vodka?

Felix snorts. "Yeah. I remember how he acted when we were partners and he found out I went for men. The first few weeks he was jumpy, like I was gonna knock him out and rape him in the back of the squad car, or something," He shakes his head ruefully. "Nah. I'll take it straight."

William opens his bottle to sip from it at that with a laugh. "I came out to a team of SEALs when I left the service. I guess I shouldn't be surprised Namir had that reaction. Because he reacted the same way to me. I'm gay, therefore I must want to have hot sex with him."

"It's like every straight guy magically assumes he's just that attractive." He glances around for a convenient shotglass. Not tough enough to take it straight out of the bottle, apparently. "How'd the Navy guys react? Though the old saw goes that naval tradition consists of rum, sodomy, and the lash."

William laughs. "Most of them ranged on a basis from 'Yeah, we've known for years' to pretty well Namir's reaction. There's one that I haven't talked to since." William states before he shakes his head. "My best friend, my swim buddy, is still such a good friend. He was in the 'this is supposed to be news?' column." William grins. There are glasses in the kitchen, though not a lot of shot glasses anywhere. Will takes another swig from the vodka.

"I'm glad they didn't flip out on you," Fel says, wryly. He pours himself a generous measure from the bottle, about a shot's worth, into a tumbler. "I had a couple of flipouts when I was on the force."

William shakes his head. "I had one. But if he doesn't want to continue to be friends with me, it's his loss. I've got plenty." Will states with his normal easy going nature. "I guess that's what we get for working in careers that are supposed to be macho men. If I worked on Broadway, everyone would just assume this was my sexuality."

Felix sputters, nearly choking on his current mouthful. "I know, huh?" he says, coughing. "And happily, I didn't lose any real friends over it. Just guys I had to deal with in the department who got all icy."

William nods his head. "Anyone is really your friend is going to be your friend whether you have sex with men or women." After a moment Will adds, "Or both. They may have a reaction like Namir where they're not sure at first, but if they're really your friend they'll come around."

Felix concedes the point with lift of his glass. "Precisely," he says, raising his chin a little, before downing a bit more of the vodka. Vodka is never really for sipping, after all.

William raises his glass as well to take a drink. "So, we need to get Namir and go out for some laser tag sometime. Or sky diving. I think my leg will be up to a landing from that soon." He's not limping at all when he walks anymore, for one. "Teaching students is good, except you don't get to use guns or knives."

"I agree," Felix says, wryly. "Never have been skydiving, myself. We should see if we can kill each other with paintball, or something. I used to hunt when I was kid, back with my grandfather."

William grins over to Felix. "You've got to try it then. Even the tamer forms that are done out of airplanes commercially are a great rush." William states, taking another swig of vodka before he responds. "Paintball would work as well. Anything where we can mock shoot each other. I hunted as a kid as well, with my father and other male relatives. Mostly we hunted deer and quail.

He's not slurring, not yet. But the accent is creeping in, and he's begun to drop his articles. "Then we will go," he says, smiling almost conspiratorially. "We hunted out in Urals. Mostly deer, too. Occasionally wolf. I still have skin of first wolf we killed together. I brought it with me when we left Russia."

William nods. "Not many wolves in Iowa. Sometimes coyote, though. We hunted in fields. I grew up on a farm." William notes. He isn't slurring, but he's even more open than normal. "We had cows. And lots and lots of corn."

Felix nods. "Not many wolves left in America, period, save for Alaska," he says, sounding rueful. "Yeah, I can imagine. I grew up in Moscow until I came to America, but we had various summer homes out in the countryside. Why'd you decide to be a SEAL?"

"It was the ultimate challenge. I'd just graduated from the Naval Academy when the opportunity came up to try to train for it. I wanted to see if I was good enough and touch enough. Once I'd made it through training, I liked the work. It was interesting and always a new challenge. I was able to really make a difference for the country and the people here, and sometimes people in other countries as well." William states with a shrug. "It was a whole different life than living on a farm and going to a small town school."

Fel's apparently had enough, by the way he gently puts down the glass, like he's afraid he'll break it. "I'll bet," he says, shaking his head in gentle amazement.

William takes another drink from the bottle. He didn't have the early start. "I wish often that I could still be a SEAL, still do that job. But I couldn't live with myself hiding being gay forever." William admits. Yay for alcohol.

"It's stupid that the military can't effectively deal with that," Fel commiserates, making a face. "Ever thought of being a…whatsit. PSC? Like a Blackwater, or something?" he offers, helpfully.

William nods his head. "I have. To be honest, coming out of the military, I wasn't sure of the reception I'd receive. Right now, teaching is still a challenge. I miss the other work, but it's not that I don't like what I'm doing now."

Felix nods, sagely. "That I'd never be able to do. I thought about going into the military, since it's something of a family tradition, but I never in a million years ever dreamed of teaching." He props himself lazily against the counter, blinking a little owlishly. Oh, very drunk. Good thing he took the subway.

William takes another drink of vodka and shakes his head. Oh, he's drunk to be this open with things, or to be using this relaxed language. "It's not always that different than being an officer. It's about leadership and stuff." Stuff, right. "Your family are lots of military?"

"My dad's line all the way back to the tsars," Felix says, chuckling softly. "My father's brother was a brigadier general. I'm sure I have cousins in the Russian Army right now. My grandfather survived Stalingrad and Kursk. I'm lucky - dad was the runt of the litter, and went into academia."

William nods his head. "That is quite a military legacy." Will states before he shrugs. "Farming is what has been in my family for generations. Thankfully, one of my little brothers is taking over there. There are benefits to being one of five. Even if it gives you an annoying little sister."

Felix picks up the empty glass and turns it in his hand. "I've always wondered what it'd be like to have siblings. I was an only child. Were you the eldest?"

William shakes his head. "I was number two. I have an older sister, then two younger brothers and a baby sister. Who is now finishing college." Time flies. "I liked having siblings. Sometimes we fought, but even when they're annoying, we're still there for each other, even states away." Yes, the vodka leads to babbling. After one more swig the bottle of the good stuff is sat on the counter.

Felix's mouth pulls a bit to one side, and he sloshes a last measure of vodka into the glass. Hey, it'll get warm, why waste it? "I've got no family in the States, save my parents. Don't really talk to those we left behind. We got 'em in a hell of a lot of trouble, I understand."

"That sucks." Will states. "Sometimes government in general sucks." Yes, this is from someone who used to defend the government in the military. "I've got lots of family around the Midwest. That's the way those tiny towns work."

"In Soviet Russia, it sucks a whole lot," Felix says, deliberately playing up the accent for humor's sake. "Huge family reunions, hm?"

William laughs. "In Soviet Russia, I've heard a lot of things happen." William jokes before he nods. "Oh yeah. We could take over the VFW hall with them if we wanted to." He's still joking, light hearted at the moment.

Felix chuckles to himself. "To you and your huge American family, then," he says, clinking his glass lightly against Will's bottle.

William has to take another drink now. He clinks his bottle against Felix's glass taking a drink. "Anyway. Neither of us lives now where we grew up. New York is like a whole other world from both those places."

"Literally," Felix says, chuckling at the thought. "Man. I remember… I was so curious as to what New York was gonna be like. Not like I believed the old line about streets being paved with gold, but… I did grow up under the Soviet regime."

William shakes his head. "Man, that must of been some culture shock." He states. "I had several years of city life, and just off the wall life experiences between the farm and NYC."

Felix licks his lips thoughtfully, contemplating the now empty glass, and then decides enough is enough for now. The glass gets set down with that exaggerated care, and he nods. "Yeah. I mean, I spoke English okay, but… that reminds me. When did you figure out what your ability was? And what sort of off the wall experiences?"

"I was in Iraq. Suddenly what the people were saying was just making sense. I thought it might just be that I'd spent enough time there. I could rationalize the same thing with Spanish when I got back to California. I'd been around Jose, my best friend and teammate's, family enough. But then I went out to get Chinese, and suddenly I knew what they were saying. Yeah, that one I couldn't push off." Will says in answer. "It took me longer to get the concentration to be able to speak languages those around me know. But I always understand what's said. That part of my power is just always turned on."

Felix shakes his head in rueful amazement. "Useful, and fairly subtle, that," he says, with some envy in his voice.

William nods his head with a laugh. "Mostly I seem to use it to have side conversations. Sam would say I use it to be rude. But it is how I met and became friends with Namir at first, the fact we both speak Arabic." Will states, reaching out for another drink. He's talkative with alcohol in his system it seems. And more animated than his normal easy going ways and deadpan tones.

Fel frankly snickers at that. "Yeah. I wish I did. All I speak is English, Russian, and some really awful Spanish," he confesses. "Man. You're putting that stuff away. Remind me never to get into a drinking contest with you. I'd lost. And likely end up with a ruined liver, to boot."

"I speak English, Russian, Arabic, Farsi, and Spanish on my own." William states before he looks over to the bottle and then back to Felix with an open laugh. Yay alcohol! "I was a SEAL. We're good at lots of things." Yes, that's a slightly dirty tone of voice.

Fel lifts his hands in a gesture of placation. "You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din. I'm just a cop. Not a supersoldier. I'm not gonna try to outdrink you, outfight you, or outrun you."

William reaches down to rub his lower leg at the reminder. Hey, he doesn't even fall over. "You might be able to outrun me still. I'm not back in top shape. I'd recommend not letting people shoot your legs." Will notes. "But cops are good at lots of things. Like investigation."

Felix glances down at the scars, assuming there are any. "Once upon a time, I might've agreed with that. I'm in decent shape. Didn't take any real permanent lung damage from my own GSW."

William nods his head. "That's good. I don't think there will be any permanent damage here, but it took a lot more physical therapy and time to heal than I would have liked. I'm not in as good of shape now as I was, though." There are scars, yes. On both his leg and his foot. Dressed in just a pair of shorts, it's not hard to see that what he calls not as good of shape is still pretty good.

"Well, you could swim and not injure yourself further, right?" Fel muses, swirling the dregs of the vodka idly in his glass. "And I know the feeling. God, I hated being an invalid."

"I might have to add that in. I've been running, just starting slow. Not as far and not pushing myself as hard. You know? Yeah. Being an invalid totally sucks. It's kind of lonely too, when you're first home and there's no one to dote on you." Will states. Yeah, that's not something he would admit sober.

Felix nods, somberly. "I had my parents come and care for me, when I was first bad off. I didn't have a live in lover, I've got no siblings, no kids….But I felt awful for it. They were very brave, but knowing your only child was on the edge of death… it's hard."

William nods his head. "My parents were worried, but I didn't want them coming out here. Dad needed to stay on the farm, and really, so did Mom. I've never in my life had a live in lover. Or even a long term one." Will states, setting the vodka bottle on the counter again.

Felix blinks at that, in obvious surprise. But he takes a few moments to properly formulate a response, rather than blurting out, "Why not?" One hand creeps for the bottle. Just a teeny bit more. Just a little won't count. "Never long in once place, huh?" he guesses. "The Navy had you all over everywhere, right?"

"I never thought it would be fair to be with someone in a longer relationship that we had to hide from everyone. Or fair to myself to have to hide it. So I never had one. Not that I never had sex, but never a relationship that was more than physical. I've been out of the Navy a bit over a year now, and I just haven't found anyone." Will shrugs. "It's awkward though when you're 28."

He only barely refrains from rolling his eyes. "Oh, nearly ready for a walker then," he drawls to that. "So old. Well, the question is…if you want one, how hard have you actually been looking?"

William laughs. "I used a cane for awhile." He points with a grin before he shrugs. "Not hard enough. And the looking I've been doing hasn't worked. I feel like I don't really know what I'm doing. And I don't usually feel like that. It's hard to not be Superman in something." And really, that's likely still the alcohol loosening things up, making him admit what he wouldn't otherwise.

Felix laughs a little, though not unsympathetically. "Welcome to the life of the ordinary American, Kal-El," he says, pointing with his glass at Will. "You're used to being supercompetent. And having clear goals. Well, lay this out like a military campaign, huh? Find a target and go after it. You're head and shoulders above most of your competition, right? You're physically fit, clever, and stable enough to be inducted into a special forces unit. That goes a long way. Honestly, you could likely have any guy you want."

William shakes his head. "I don't know how to start it, I guess is the issue. But I'll learn. I just need to get out there and do it. Even if I have to be an ordinary American to do it." Will states.

Now Fel's totally seized on this as an idea. «I should drag you around to some of my old haunts, see if they're still up to par. Honestly, kid, all you'd have to do is go into any gay bar in town and whistle. Men would come running,» He says, bluntly, waving his glass with enthusiasm.

William slips into Russian as well, reaching out for another swig of vodka. Because he's still standing up and therefore not drunk enough. «What would Mariska think about that? Because otherwise, I'd be all for the idea. But I don't want to be the source of trouble in your relationship in any way.»

Felix snorts. «I'll ask her. But if I swear on my grandmother's icon that I'm only there to chaperon you, maybe she'll let me,» he says, with a last mouthful of vodka to punctuate the end of that. He blows out a slow breath, and shakes his head. «My tolerance isn't what it once was,» he says, ruefully.

William laughs. «And you call yourself Russian.» Will jokes at that last comment. «How can you be Russian if you can't drink large quantities of vodka? You'll just have to ask and see what she says.»

«I've been in America too long,» Felix says, mock-mournfully. «It's corrupted me. I really should be able to work up a rant about how living in the decadent capitalist West has ruined my proletariat soul, but I'm too drunk to fucking try,» he says, putting both hands on the counter and leaning back to tip his face up to the kitchen light.

«I'll imagine you did a wonderful drunken rant on it then.» Will states as he turns to lean back against the counter. «I'm definitely drunk. Good vodka.» He says giving Felix a longer look as the man looks up. «Are you going to make it home alright, tonight?»

There's another sigh. «I should try. Just gimme a bit to sober up, I think. I didn't drive, so I can just get a cab or walk home.» Oh, there's a good idea. Fel wandering New York drunk. At least he isn't armed.

William looks Felix over again. There's not even that much outward lust. He's being a good boy. «Cab would be best. Because you don't have to walk so much.» Or stagger drunkenly so much.

«Yeah,» Fel agrees. About that staggering drunkenly. Totally on the agenda. Hello, Mr. Couch. Felix frankly wobbles for the seating in the living room. He's flushed from all the booze, and grinning to himself like he knows a particularly funny secret.

William digs a bag of pretzels out of a cabinet in the kitchen before he walks after Felix. See, the benefit of the other man being so drunk is that he might not notice the sway to Will's path. He sinks down on the couch beside Felix and offers out the bag. "Food." He says, switching back to English.

Felix obediently takes the bag, and doesn't even try to worry it open like a starving wolverine. "Uh. Can I have some water, too? Or some soda?" He's trying for innocent and helpless, which means Will is getting the puppy face.

William can't resist the puppy face, so even though he grumbles, "I just sat down." He gets up to head to the kitchen and open the fridge. He ends up pulling out two bottles of Propel and two cans of Coke. "Here. Liquid." He states, offering out half his stash.

Oh, drunkenness with caffeine for more energy. It's genius! Fel goes for the Coke first. "Thanks," he says, quietly, taking a sip. And then setting it down on the endtable and letting his head loll drunkenly to one side. So, how much longer is he going to remain conscious?

At least he didn't bring Red Bull. Will also cracks his coke open, reaching over to grab some of the pretzels. "So, how did you meet Mariska?" Not an awkward question, right?

Felix glances down into the coke bottle like it's going to tell him what in hell to say. "I….I was over in Russia on this crazy joint thing with the FSB. NYPD, FBI, FSB, mostly a lot of post nine eleven gladhanding. We were in Saint Petersburg. It was sort of….just a quick fling, in all honesty," Oh, man, embarrassed - he's rubbing at the back of his neck with his free hand.

William looks over to Felix. "Sounds like a crazy joint thing indeed. Not that I've not had my share of quick flings. Just not with /girls./ How did it get from quick fling in Russia to married in New York?"

Will gets a level, unflinching, and very rueful glance from the blue eyes, as Fel raises his gaze. "I knocked her up. And we still have this insane attraction. Most of my relationships, long or short, have been with guys. But this…." he makes a vague, expansive gesture with his free hand. "It's not sensible. But it seems to work."

William blinks over to Felix at that statement. "Mariska's pregnant?" He asks before his goes back to sipping coke and munching pretzels. "Well, good luck in making it work." And that's an honest statement, not sarcastic toned at all.

Felix shakes his head, after giving Will a shocked expression. "Not now. Then," he explains, rubbing at his forehead wearily. "We've got a six year old daughter, somewhere. She was kidnapped."

William blinks over to Felix. "What? Your daughter was kidnapped?" That's not one you hear everyday. "If you find her and need help with extracting her, let me know. I've still got friends." Drunken Will is quite ready to go commando.

"Both the NYPD and the Bureau are working on it," Fel says, quietly. "I never even got to meet the kid. But Mariska… she's not lying about her. But thank you," he says, with a faint smile.

William nods his head. "That got to suck though. I don't have kids, but I do have several nieces and nephews. If something like that happened to one of them, well, I don't want to imagine it even."

He puts the bottle of coke on the endtable, and lets his hands rest limply in his lap. "I….I don't pretend it's the same for me as for Mariska. She raised her. I've only seen pictures of her. I still have trouble believing, on a gut level, that I'm a parent," he says, somberly.

William considers that. It's hard to think after this much vodka. "Yeah. It'd be hard to feel like her dad when you haven't met her." He decides, reaching over close to Felix for more pretzels.

Felix hands them over, shaking his head. "Who knows? I…." He lets it trail off. They find her. Or worse, they don't. He puts his head in his hands for a moment, drunken and weary.

William reaches over to put a hand on Felix's shoulder, if the other man will let him. It's meant to be a comforting gesture. "So. How about a more cheerful subject for our drunkenness."

He looks up, as if embarrassed by the momentary fit of weakness. "Sorry, man," he says, a little gruffly. "I'm not usually that bad, even when I'm drunk." He doesn't brush the hand off his shoulder. Far from it.

William leaves the hand there, for now. Hell, he might have forgotten it's there. "Nah. I was whining about being perpetually single earlier. This is a bigger deal."

Felix leaves his elbows propped on his knees, slumped a bit forward. "Well, Russians are supposed to be maudlin drunks," he says, drily. "What's your excuse, Amerikanski?"

William leans a bit towards Felix as he shrugs. "I can drive a tractor? Does that count as a good excuse?" Even if it makes no sense in any way wit the conversation.

Felix reaches over, drapes an arm over Will's shoulder companionably, and leans in to explain in that conspirator's whisper, "When I go home to Russia and have big farm in Siberia, I bring you along to drive tractor. But that doesn't mean you get to whine when drunk, Spetsnaz."

William leans in towards Felix in that with a drunken laugh. All that vodka is really kicking in. "Aw. You're no fun. At least whining when drunk is better than shooting things when drunk. It's easier to miss things then."

"I am plenty of fun," Fel says, calmly. "And I am good shot, too. We go shooting in woods sometime. We bring Namir. He can be the sensible one, since he doesn't drink." He leans his forehead against Will's, lazily.

William nods his head slightly, he's not going to be moving much with Felix leaning against him. "Sounds like a plan. Namir can keep us from shooting each other by accident. Maybe we can have a competition to see who can drink the most and still hit a target."

Oh, that's a recipe for embarrassment and possible death. And yet somehow a GREAT IDEA. "What can we get Namir in return to pay him back for babysitting out drunk asses for a weekend?" he wonders, still leaning against Will, though he rolls a bit so it's more ear to ear, like he's trying to fit the both of them into the frame of a small photo.

William considers that. "Well, we could let him play with the guns, too." Will suggests first before he adds. "Or we could help him with stuff for the wedding so Sam will be happy. Because if she's happy, he'll be happy."

"Good idea," Felix approves, with real enthusiasm. "The wedding stuff, I mean. If we let him play with guns, likely he'll shoot us both in irritation and then make it look like an accident."

William nods his head. "And I could make Sam happy by taking her to a show or something that Namir doesn't want to see. Like Broadway." Not that he doesn't do that anyway. "Yeah. We should only let drinkers have guns." Because that is /such/ a good idea. Will's head drops down to rest on Felix's shoulder.

Felix snorts a bit. "Do you….you actually like musicals?" he wonders, gently, tone clearly amused, even as he ruffles the teacher's hair. "It's like it's genetically linked - liking to fuck men and enjoying musical theatre."

William laughs. "I'm sure the two have some direct correlation on the genetic code." Will decides, not making any move to unruffle his hair. Or move his head. "I do like musicals. Not all of them, but a good number."

"I know this makes me a fake queer, or whatever, but I don't. I really don't get the appeal," Fel admits, leaning back a bit, so they've both got their backs against the back of the couch. "I mean, it's fine that you do. But….it's beyond me. Then, I was never into the whole subculture thing." He looks at the ex-soldier fondly. "I guess you of all people would know what it's like to have to hide it."

"One of the things I like about being out is that I can admit liking things like Broadway without having to worry." Will states. "I don't like rainbow everything though. My sister sent me a bunch of it, but almost all of what she sent is still in the box." The only visible one piece of it in the living area is a fridge magnet with a gay rights in the military slant.

Felix let his eyes half-lid, sleepily. "Yeah. I don't. I …..I've not really overcome the conditioning I got as a kid. And my parents..they love me, but it's tough to live in Little Odessa when your only kid's a fag."

"Yeah, I understand. The small town I grew up isn't much better. I think it's a big help for them that I live so far away in that aspect. And that I have two straight little brothers." Will tilts his head to look to Felix. "Cab? Or sleep on the couch?"

"The couch," Fel says, looking embarrassed. "I'll wake in a few hours, call a cab," he says. "So I don't fall down the damn stairs and break my neck."

William nods his head. "I probably shouldn't sleep on it with you." Will says with a sigh, leveraging himself up to stand. See? He can still hold himself upright. Yay!

Felix is still leaning somewhat on Will. It takes him a moment to try and respond, and ends with him not really succeeding. He's abruptly tipped sideways on the couch. And rather than argue with gravity, simply kicks off his boots and draws his legs up. He watches Will silently, a rather odd expression on his face.

William catches that look and blinks over. "What?" He asks rather intelligently, running a hand up through his hair. "I'm going to crash on the bed." Probably in the shorts he's wearing. There's a benefit to minimal clothing in these situations.

"I'm really drunk," says Felix, thoughtfully. Why this requires another announcement isn't really clear. "I'm sorry?"

William looks over to Felix. "Vodka does that. Don't be sorry. Sleep. And don't let Mariska hurt me by thinking we had some kind of hot sex when in fact you were sleeping drunk on the couch."

Fel abruptly looks away. "I promise to defend you from my wife, honestly. Lest she think you lured me into all sorts of decadent and obscene acts," he deadpans, before pulling himself up. "Does this pull out in to an actual bed?"

William blinks. "Uh. No. I don't think so." But hey, it's possible it does and the guy doesn't know right now. Because for now, Will is actually stumbling towards the bedroom and his bed to fall flat on his face and pass out.

The whole sleeping on the couch thing? Doesn't last all that long. Fel comes awake out of a vodka-soaked nightmare, shuddering. It takes him a little to realize where he is…..and then he pulls himself up to head for the bathroom. At least he hasn't drunk so much that he's sick. But he comes out of it, and rather than heading for the couch again, shuffles in search of Will.

William is still sprawled out on the bed, though he's moved from being face down to being curled up on his side. The sound of the flushing toilet has half awoken him, but not so much that he's even fully opened his eyes. At this rate, he'll be back asleep in three seconds.

It's actually likely lucky that Fel is so liquor-sodden. Otherwise the temptation to abuse his host would be far harder to resist. As it is, he contents himself with flopping down on the bed, and then edging over so he's back to back with Will.

William blinks at that skin contact. "Huh?" Yeah, that's a good statement. With all the alcohol in his system he doesn't move away though, instead he just takes in the warmth from Felix's back as he drifts back off.

Felix mumbles something in Russian. Not clear what, exactly. He doesn't move away, either, merely going limp as a ragdoll on the side of the bed he's claimed. Not exactly the world's most suave seduction, hm?

William doesn't seem to care what Felix muttered. After this much vodka, once he was asleep, he's asleep. And now he has warm limp Felix at his back, so he's out like a light.

Fel's apparently one of those obnoxious sleepers who takes up all the available room. It takes a little while, but he ends up rolling over and more or less attaching himself to Will, arm draped over the ex-SEAL again.

William is pretty well out again by this point, so he just cuddles back against Felix. Hey, it's comfortable. And Felix isn't leaving him a whole lot of the bed left.

Which means, unfortunately, that Will is also right there when another of those nightmares comes welling up from the depths. It starts with only a few twitches and mutters, but Fel abruptly comes awake, still rigid with fear. The fact that he's in an unfamiliar bed doesn't help much - there's that little spate of disorientation again.

That rigidness wakes Will up, partly at least. "What? Not alone?" He turns within Felix's arms with owlish blinking. "Hey, you're safe here." He adds soothingly, seeing that fear. Really, he's waking up quickly, if still on the drunk side.

"I…uh. Hi." Felix says, gently disentangling himself from the hold he has on Will. Not that it's easy to see in the dimness, but he's blushing. "Sorry," he adds, sitting up, propping his weight on his hands.

William reaches up to grab a pillow and prop it under his head looking over. "Did you get uncomfortable on the couch?" He asks sleepily before he adds. "Nightmare? They happen."

Felix's hair is tousled with sleep, and he slouches forward a little. "Yeah," he says. "Drinking doesn't help much with 'em. You get 'em?" he wonders, looking over.

William tucks the pillow close as he looks up to Felix. "I've been known to a time or two. And no, drinking doesn't help." William reaches up to run a hand through his hair with a yawn.

Felix puts his face in his hand again, though more out of real weariness than grief. "Sorry to wake you," he says, voice a little muffled. "I….worked homicide, for a little while. My clearance rate was pretty good. But I still have these dreams where the victims of cases I didn't solve are just there, looking at me. I know it sounds cheesy," he say, with a faint sigh.

William reaches out to put a hand on Felix's thigh in an attempt to comfort. "It doesn't." Will says, moving to sit up a bit. "I was never a detective, but I've seen my share of death."

Felix gives the teacher a sidelong look. "I'll bet you have. How long were you a SEAL, actually?" he wonders, turning a little to face him. He doesn't brush the hand away - human comfort's nothing to sneer at.

William has to think about that, which likely means there's still a decent amount of vodka still in his system. "About five years. I trained for it right out of graduating from the Naval Academy." Will states looking over to Felix. "How long did you work homicide?"

"Just over a year. I transferred back to Organized Crime. I was more useful, less obsessive," Felix says, bluntly, glancing down at him.

William looks to Felix and nods. "Then Organized Crime was the right spot for you." William states with a yawn before he says, "And now you get the fancy F.B.I. suits."

Felix laughs at that, after giving Will an amused look. "I had 'em already. Got a friend of a friend who's a tailor who owed me a favor, so the minute I could get out of the bag, once I'd made detective…."

William gives Felix a smile. "Ah. See, I miss having a uniform. I like being able to choose my clothes, but it was easier to just be able to pull on my uniform and know what I was wearing."

"You must've had better uniforms than we did," Fel says, with a snort, slipping back down to lie on the bed. "The NYPD uniform….not that comfortable. Dress uniforms don't look too bad, though."

"Ours were fairly comfortable, at least the ones for daily wear. Dress weren't as comfortable, but well, if you want to pick up guys nothing would work better." Will's tone is joking on that last part.

Felix's expression turns dry. "That I will say ….the number of men in New York who had a cop fetish was far higher than I ever expected. Or so I found when I had to wear a uniform."

William laughs at that statement. "I think that any kind of uniform will get you that reaction. Military, police, whatever." Will covers a big yawn with his pillow.

"Point," Fel concedes, softly. And then looks embarrassed again. "Man. Sorry to wake you," he says, slipping for the edge of the bed.

William looks over to Felix. "Ah, it's alright. You brought vodka over tonight. Good vodka. It makes up for many things." Will decides before he asks, "Going home or back to the couch?"

Felix laughs, gently. "I'm glad you and I are of the same mind on that. The couch, I think. Still too drunk to try anything, and I don't have to go in to work tomorrow, so there's no hurry."

William nods his head. "Go sleep it off. Or sleep it off here, if the couch was too uncomfortable." He offers covering a yawn. "I'm not long for the waking world now, I don't think."

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