“You didn't have to do this, you know,” Boone muttered lowly. Arcade dismissively waved his hand. “Sure I did. I just wish you would have told me sooner! Like, oh I don't know- before your actual birthday?”
“I don't usually like celebrating,” Boone protested, but Arcade scarcely heard him over the resounding clink of his glass colliding with the other man's still tilted one, elicited a glower. Whatever. He would not let Boone's pessimism interfere with them having a good time tonight. “Come on, lighten up! It's your birthday, you're drunk, and we are probably surrounded by the questionable citizens of Vegas fornicating with each other in cramped and dirty rooms! Can't you feel the magic?”
Boone rolled his eyes. “With a nice this perfect, who needs magic.”
“Don't even try sarcasm with me, Craig. You'd have better luck seducing one of Gomorrah’s hookers.”
Boone raised a single eyebrow. Arcade shrugged, taking a deep swing from his drink before elaborating:
“Can't beat a master at their own game.”
It was hard for Arcade to tell whether the choking noise that burst from Boone's throat was one of amusement or disbelief, as the other man's eyes were obfuscated by his tinted sunglasses. There was probably some symbolism there, Arcade mused as he choked down another mouthful of whatever vile moonshine the Garret twins were passing off as drinks these days. The sunglasses were a barrier, maybe. A shield, or defense. Arcade was sure he would have an easier time figuring it out if his brain didn't feel quite so fuzzy.
Boone's voice was still low as he responded “Hm. Well. No loss to me. If I felt like trying my luck with strung out junkies, I'd just hang around Freeside's alleys.” He sipped at his drink, seemingly not as bothered by the taste (or lack thereof).
Arcade laughed in delight, “Alright, I'll let you slide because that was funny. I knew you had a sense of humor in there somewhere, Craig-y boy.”
Boone narrowed his eyes. “Don't call me that, Gannon.”
Arcade shuddered dramatically. “Honestly, the amount of implication you manage to pack into the two syllables of my name is actually quite impressive. If I didn't know any better I'd think you WEREN'T cherishing every moment of our time together.” This earned a smirk from Boone. A small, understated smirk that Arcade probably would have otherwise missed had he not already been blatantly staring at the other man's mouth. “Guess you read me like a book, huh?”
Arcade blanched.“Are you teasing me? My god. You're actually teasing me. Wait wait, hold still and let me take a mental picture so I can frame this moment forever. This'll be something I can tell my grand kids someday.”
Boone swatted at Arcade's arm. Maybe all the drinking was loosening him up. Or maybe, Arcade thought, he's finally fallen for my dazzling charm and wit.
He figured it was probably the drinking.
“Grand kids. Huh. Seems optimistic, considering how everything's gone to shit these days. Most people are lucky to squeeze out even one more generation.”
“Well aren't you just a ball of sunshine and kittens-” There was that tiny smirk, again. “-But you have a point. Families are a rare thing in the wasteland, and it seems like they just keep getting harder and harder to find. You'd think people would be more stubborn about, you know, keeping together. Protecting each other, and everything.”
To his shock, he felt Boone slump forward and turned to see the man leaning against the bar on his elbows with his forehead pressed against his palms, a pained expression crossing his face.
“Are you alright?” Arcade pressed a frantic hand to Boone's arm, turning to face him and automatically switching into doctor-mode. “What's wrong, Craig, are you hurt?”
Boone heaved a shaky sigh, shoulders rising and falling steadily in one deep, controlled breath. “Can I ask you something, Arcade?”
Boone was using his first name. That was... new. Arcade couldn't tell if it excited him immensely or scared him shitless. Perhaps it was somewhere in between. “Of course,” he answered, hoping he didn't sound too startled. Unconsciously, he rubbed his hand back and forth on Boone's bicep in a soothing motion. Boone didn't shake him off, which was a good sign.
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timeasmymeasure
***Desperado (part 2) [arcade/boone, daddy kink] (ignore the one above this something got messed up)
Date: 2011-12-11 10:07 pm (UTC)“I don't usually like celebrating,” Boone protested, but Arcade scarcely heard him over the resounding clink of his glass colliding with the other man's still tilted one, elicited a glower. Whatever. He would not let Boone's pessimism interfere with them having a good time tonight. “Come on, lighten up! It's your birthday, you're drunk, and we are probably surrounded by the questionable citizens of Vegas fornicating with each other in cramped and dirty rooms! Can't you feel the magic?”
Boone rolled his eyes. “With a nice this perfect, who needs magic.”
“Don't even try sarcasm with me, Craig. You'd have better luck seducing one of Gomorrah’s hookers.”
Boone raised a single eyebrow. Arcade shrugged, taking a deep swing from his drink before elaborating:
“Can't beat a master at their own game.”
It was hard for Arcade to tell whether the choking noise that burst from Boone's throat was one of amusement or disbelief, as the other man's eyes were obfuscated by his tinted sunglasses. There was probably some symbolism there, Arcade mused as he choked down another mouthful of whatever vile moonshine the Garret twins were passing off as drinks these days. The sunglasses were a barrier, maybe. A shield, or defense. Arcade was sure he would have an easier time figuring it out if his brain didn't feel quite so fuzzy.
Boone's voice was still low as he responded “Hm. Well. No loss to me. If I felt like trying my luck with strung out junkies, I'd just hang around Freeside's alleys.” He sipped at his drink, seemingly not as bothered by the taste (or lack thereof).
Arcade laughed in delight, “Alright, I'll let you slide because that was funny. I knew you had a sense of humor in there somewhere, Craig-y boy.”
Boone narrowed his eyes. “Don't call me that, Gannon.”
Arcade shuddered dramatically. “Honestly, the amount of implication you manage to pack into the two syllables of my name is actually quite impressive. If I didn't know any better I'd think you WEREN'T cherishing every moment of our time together.” This earned a smirk from Boone. A small, understated smirk that Arcade probably would have otherwise missed had he not already been blatantly staring at the other man's mouth. “Guess you read me like a book, huh?”
Arcade blanched.“Are you teasing me? My god. You're actually teasing me. Wait wait, hold still and let me take a mental picture so I can frame this moment forever. This'll be something I can tell my grand kids someday.”
Boone swatted at Arcade's arm. Maybe all the drinking was loosening him up. Or maybe, Arcade thought, he's finally fallen for my dazzling charm and wit.
He figured it was probably the drinking.
“Grand kids. Huh. Seems optimistic, considering how everything's gone to shit these days. Most people are lucky to squeeze out even one more generation.”
“Well aren't you just a ball of sunshine and kittens-” There was that tiny smirk, again. “-But you have a point. Families are a rare thing in the wasteland, and it seems like they just keep getting harder and harder to find. You'd think people would be more stubborn about, you know, keeping together. Protecting each other, and everything.”
To his shock, he felt Boone slump forward and turned to see the man leaning against the bar on his elbows with his forehead pressed against his palms, a pained expression crossing his face.
“Are you alright?” Arcade pressed a frantic hand to Boone's arm, turning to face him and automatically switching into doctor-mode. “What's wrong, Craig, are you hurt?”
Boone heaved a shaky sigh, shoulders rising and falling steadily in one deep, controlled breath. “Can I ask you something, Arcade?”
Boone was using his first name. That was... new. Arcade couldn't tell if it excited him immensely or scared him shitless. Perhaps it was somewhere in between. “Of course,” he answered, hoping he didn't sound too startled. Unconsciously, he rubbed his hand back and forth on Boone's bicep in a soothing motion. Boone didn't shake him off, which was a good sign.
“What was your family like?”