Chessieabernathy‌:

arlovasquez‌:

chessieabernathy‌:

The mention of the state of his sheets provokes a concerned look, and wide eyes – As if she’s sat in a pile of mud. Without questioning him further (assuming it’s best probably not to), Chessie moves to the floor, sitting with her back against the end of his bed frame. In the morning, she knows she’ll regret being so frank about what she intended on doing. Surely, it will come to bite her in the ass, that this moment will be a memory wielding guilt and concern. For now, though – She cut three lines without hesitation, sitting on her knees as she moved. She turns to Ben for a moment, smiling as she nods quickly. “New Years is supposed to be fun,” she agreed, pulling a bill from her purse after, rolling it up. “To having a fun fucking year,” Chessie spoke up once more, as if they were making a cheers before shots. Only, instead of shots, she was leaning over a mirror, taking the line without question. The burn didn’t bother her, barely registering in her mind, thanks to the alcohol. As her hand came up to rub her nose with the back of it, she passed the bill to Arlo. “Don’t fuck it up,” she teases with a laugh that’s just a bit too loud, already feeling the effects of the substance. 

“Beer isn’t bad when you’re already drunk, Chessie. It goes down quicker and it’s almost like water,” Arlo said with a grin. “Plus it doesn’t make you want to throw up if you breath right after drinking a sip, unlike shots.” 

He sat back, watching Chessie as she took the line. It was bit bizarre to watch this happening in front of him. Arlo had only seen people do coke in movies, and he certainly never thought he’d be about to do it. 

As the mirror was passed to him, he hesitated. There was another knot forming in his stomach but he willed it away. He put the mirror on 

Taking the bill, he positioned it and leaned over the mirror, holding one nostril shut and inhaling. 

First came the slight burn and then the taste; it was like he had swallowed play-doh. 

“That wasn’t so bad,” he said as he passed the mirror to Ben. 

“Yeah,” He agreed with Arlo, “And if you get the right kind, it doesn’t smell like piss. Or taste like it.” Everyone could use some good beer in their life. 

Ben waited impatiently for his turn. He had watched Chessie have her go at it. She definitely knew what she was doing. 

“I can hold your hand next time,” He joked, “But I don’t think you need it. It’s pretty much like going through the motions of smelling a sharpie.” He definitely wasn’t making sense but he didn’t care. He was about to get to do something he hadn’t done in two years. All of that work to become sober would be gone, and he didn’t care. He took the bill and mirror happily, not wasting much time. As soon pulled his head up, and everything came rushing back. He felt his body warm up, almost like he was Popeye with his spinach. The adrenaline running through him right now was incomparable. “That’s how the pros do it, Arlo. You’re learning from the masters.” He mumbled. 

seboriley‌:

“That is what I’m here for, my friend,” Sebastian assures, clapping his hand down hard on Ben’s shoulder blade, tapering it off with a couple more pats as he prepares a couple of the aforementioned shots with two easy pours. Well, easy if you didn’t pay too much mind to the little puddle forming beneath them, slicking up the bottoms of the glasses. “I’m a lot younger than that tower,” Seb mocks, feigning a cheap English accent he’s definitely learned from Harry Potter marathons. “Ugh. Can’t it be your New Year’s resolution to take shots without a chaser or something? I’m getting very tired of tracking them down for you.” His temper dissipates just as quickly as it forms, though, and he’s already turning towards the kitchen to start a hunt for limes, shot glasses balanced between his thumb and forefinger on either hand. “But, since it’s the holidays, I’ll make an exception.”

He wanted to be as drunk as Sebastian was at this point. A shot or two would for sure send him that way. “You need to work on your accent.” Ben could probably do a better accent than him at this point.  “Can it be your resolution to stop complaining so much? I’m asking for one thing. It’s good that you’re exercising that brain of yours.” He teased. If Sebastian was going to tease him, he was going to do it right back. “I’ll take pretty much anything at this point, my regard for taste is going out the window.” 

finnsmythe‌:

“Rum gives me a headache,” he explained. “Though it is a classic combination. Oh… that was you fighting? I heard the commotion and decided to stay out of it. God knows I don’t need to get into any more fights,” he shrugged. “No beer? That’s kind of bullshit. But maybe I just think so because I’m used to being around guys who could down pitchers by themselves. We should Postmates beer or something,” he laughed. “It’s good, yeah. I’m glad I can be here for O.”

“I would’ve gotten a lot more punches in if Monty didn’t break it up. I normally do more damage,” Ben had his fair share of fights in bars, while he was high, basically anywhere and everywhere. Nowadays he was a bit calmer and looked towards his wife to keep his impulse control in check. “Fuck yeah. I’d like to see you try to beat me in a shotgun competition,” Ben challenged, the competitive side taking over a bit. “Oh yeah, you guys are a thing or something,” He remembered hearing about that, “We should do a double date. It’s not really my thing but maybe O will enjoy it.”

taterodriguez‌:

“Actually, I haven’t.”  Tate admitted and gave a shake of their head as a chuckle passed through their lips.  They heard stories about SantaCon, but could never bring their self to attend knowing full well that there was more excitement in the Upper East Side.  “I think people were just surprised to see you’ve finally made a reappearance,” Tate said casually.  “Honestly, I never thought I’d see you again when you disappeared.  –  Kind of makes me wonder what was so important that made you come home,” Tate gave a shrug of their shoulders and they figured it was safe to assume it had something to do with Quinn.  “You’ll have to call in advance, but I’ll do my best.”

The only reason Tate remembered who Ben was, was due to the turmoil it caused Quinn.  It was hard for Tate to bother remembering people that clearly wanted nothing to do with the Upper East Side.  “Bishop’s sister, right.  The disappearing Kirbey.”  Tate didn’t have a face to the name but vaguely remembered another Kirbey being around.  “Shots sound great, it’s the only thing that is going to get me through this night.”

He really had just disappeared. It wasn’t like he was planning on leaving, it just all happened so fast. “It’s fun but I’m not sure it beats Oktoberfest,” He pointed out. Nothing could beat being in Munich during Oktoberfest.“Honestly, same here. But you know what they say. You always find your way back home.” He was only here to finally let go of the guilt he had been carrying around. 

“Yes, both I and the disappearing Kirbey have returned,” Ben confirmed. He wondered why they needed shots to get through the night but knew it was none of his business. If only he didn’t leave, he probably would’ve known Tate pretty well because of Quinn. “Vodka keeps me humble,” He hated the taste but would down it anyways. “And I don’t trust people who like raspberry flavored vodka. That shit tastes like medicine.”

arlovasquez‌:

The days crawled by with little to no brightness to them; not in a physical sense but within his mind. Everything to Arlo was bleak and dark. He hadn’t smoked, painted, or done anything productive in days. This was the first day he’d actually gotten the motivation to put on regular clothes and head out for a walk.

And he walked for hours because he knew if he stopped, he wouldn’t want to keep going. But he needed to get something to drink, so he stepped inside a small coffee shop of 34th and ordered a black coffee, setting his stuff on a table near the window and gazing out.

“Fuck.”

It was just by coincidence that he had spotted Arlo. In fact, Ben wouldn’t dare set his feet in a “hipster” coffee shop. He was too good for New York Hipsters. However, he stopped in his tracks when he saw Arlo. Before he could stop himself, he was inside. And approaching the other man. 

“Arlo.” He stated, “You look worse than I do.” He wanted to ask how he was since everything went down. He hadn’t spoken much to anyone since the arrest. Maybe that was because he was also keeping himself in isolation. “How are you?” He finally blurted after the internal struggle his brain was creating inside. “How’s your place since everything went down?” He didn’t remember much about the cops coming in but he figured it would’ve been left a mess from them at least.

finnsmythe‌:

“I don’t doubt that. You seem pretty scrappy to me,” he grinned a little. At the suggestion of a shotgun competition, Finn laughed. “Oh my god, yes! I used to do that all the time with the guys! And I did that in college before I dropped out. You’re on. If this fucking blizzard wasn’t happening, and we’d be able to get a case of beer, we’d definitely do that!” Finn was competitive as hell, and he would do all he could to win that challenge. “Yeah, we’re a thing,” he nodded. “I’ll ask O about it. See if she’d be down.”

He wasn’t scrappy. Only he was allowed to call himself that. Or King. That was about it. “I gotta compensate for the height somehow,” He wasn’t ignorant, he knew he was pretty small. “There should always be a case of beer around or a keg. I really need to show Chessie and O how Europeans party,” He thought he was better than everyone because he spent so much time abroad. It was pretty pathetic. “Maybe we could do a bar crawl.” He considered that pretty romantic. See, romance isn’t dead. 

arlovasquez‌:

“I’ve travelled quite a bit, actually. Did some before I turned twenty-one and it was one of the best decisions of my life.” Arlo paused, looking around the room a moment before bringing his attention back. “I mean I still travel when I get the chance to, but it’s less frequent now.”

“Same. Out of all the places, I have to say Greece was the best out of all the places I’ve visited. It was warm there,” which he was a huge fan of, “I married my wife there, and there were stray dogs everywhere. Do you know how many times I wanted to take home a dog?” He asked rhetorically. “Have you ever been piss drunk in the middle of Venice before? It’s pretty dangerous.”

monty-santos‌:

“Well…” Monty said as he tried to think, trying to think of suggestions other than his usual of volunteering.  “Typically what I do is go to the library and get a couple of books, which tends to work for me. Or we could wander around and see what sort of things we can find, I used to do that all the time when I had days off in France.”

Of course, Monty would suggest books. Unfortunately, Ben hadn’t leisurely read in years. He never really was a book fanatic, to begin with. Mainly because he associated books with school. And doing schoolwork was not fun, in his opinion. “How many books do they let you take out at a time?” He inquired, mainly because he pictured Monty with a dozen books at a time. Ben’s ears perked up when he mentioned France. “As long as we avoid Times Square, I would be up for an adventure,” It would be good to get his mind off of everything. “When do you think we’ll be rid of all these tourists? Don’t they have jobs?”

finnsmythe‌:

“I didn’t know that, but that’s super interesting,” he said, sipping his own drink. “Maybe Santa can’t get drunk. Maybe because he’s immortal, his body temperature is too high and just burns off the alcohol immediately.” Finn was probably thinking too much into it. “If Santa goes to America first, though, he’ll have a nice cookie base to soak it up. I’m pretty sure the reindeer do most of the flying anyway.”

A part of him was a bit jealous of Finn. Not that he’d ever show it. Ben didn’t get jealous. He didn’t even tell his mother that he was back nor did he feel the need to. If anything, he pitied Finn. Yep, that was it. “He’d go to the UK first, South and North America are the last places that he goes to. At least that’s what it says on the Santa Tracker every year. He’d probably mix up gifts and things once he arrived over here,” It felt weird talking about an imaginary figure. He wanted to ask how his mom was. However, Ben looked down at his feet instead. “How’s... your drink? How’s your drink?” He asked, much more smoothly the second time. 

buffy-seymour‌:

Buffy narrowed her eyes. “Let me guess, you studied philosophy in college, didn’t you.” She was simultaneously too drunk and too sober for this conversation. “Here’s the thing, time has a definition. Time can be measured. One-one thousand.” Buffy held up a finger. “See? One second has passed. And  scientists have studied time. Your pretentious pessimism is also a social construct but nothing’s stopping you there, are they?”

“I wish. I don’t think my mother and father would’ve been very happy about that,” He was tied to their command when they paid for college. “How do you even know that that is real?” He insisted, “Seconds could be fake. We could think that time is moving on when it’s really not.” Her words then really began to sink in. Pretentious. That wasn’t the first time he was called that tonight. “I think it’s time for me to open up another beer.” He said as he began to shuffle his feet before walking away.