[fic] Congratulations In Order
Congratulations In Order
Glee
Chris / Darren
PG 13
RPF, underage drinking, post-Golden Globes speculation
The bass is thumping and the drinks are flowing and the high of what happened just a few hours ago still hasn’t gone down at all, and he’s pretty damn certain no one could be happier than he is right now. The tear tracks on his cheeks (from the good kind of uncontrollable sobbing) are mostly dried, and now he’s just left with this unstoppable, undiminishable joy and the afterglow of oh my god did that really just happen.
His mom had called in tears (we’re so proud of you, baby, you have no idea), and Heather had texted him something almost coherent, and Lea had cried more than he did, and then they had all won and everyone had smashed up onto the stage (yes, even Darren), and after that he maybe sort of blacked out just a little because, seriously. What just happened?
All he’s aware of now is the giddiness running up and down his spine and the voice in his head telling him that if he wakes up without the god of all hangovers tomorrow morning, he was obviously doing it wrong. And yes, maybe he does have a seven am call time, and yes, maybe he can’t drink yet (legally), but really. Who’s going to say no to the boy who just won his first Golden Globe?
When he sees Darren, he’s got the thrill of victory and three shots of that-delicious-pink-stuff-Lea-gave-him coursing through his system, making his head a little lighter than normal and his inhibitions significantly lower. Darren clasps his arm and pulls him into a hug, gushing excitedly about congratulations and you totally deserved it, but he hardly hears any of it over the racing of his own heartbeat. Even through the stiff layers of formalwear, Darren’s warmth is overwhelming, and he can feel it spreading through his own body, a welcome and very noted presence. With the added high of the alcohol thrumming through his system, making him oh so sensitive to all this sight and sound and touch, well, he really never stood a chance.
Before he even knows what he’s doing, his fingers are curled up in Darren’s hair and he’s crashing their lips together. It’s hot and wet and perfect, and then over in a second. Darren pulls back to stare at him, mouth hanging open and eyes wide.
And somewhere, over all the alcohol buzzing through his brain, he realizes, that oh shit. He just kissed his costar. He just kissed his costar. His very, very, incredibly, painfully straight costar. And he sort of wants to run away, or hide, or maybe just phase through the floor and out of sight, but instead he’s caught with his heart in his throat and his feet stuck to the ground.
A moment (second, year?) passes with Darren staring at him and him staring straight back, and he’s really thinking that death might also be a good option, and then.
Darren smiles.
One of those incredibly goofy, slightly dapper, wholly Darren smiles.
And before he knows what he’s doing, Darren’s hands are curled into his hair, and their lips are crashing together again, and he can practically feel Darren smiling against his lips, before a little nip and the swipe of a tongue.
Because, really. Who’s going to say no to the boy who just won his first Golden Globe?
Glee
Chris / Darren
PG 13
RPF, underage drinking, post-Golden Globes speculation
The bass is thumping and the drinks are flowing and the high of what happened just a few hours ago still hasn’t gone down at all, and he’s pretty damn certain no one could be happier than he is right now. The tear tracks on his cheeks (from the good kind of uncontrollable sobbing) are mostly dried, and now he’s just left with this unstoppable, undiminishable joy and the afterglow of oh my god did that really just happen.
His mom had called in tears (we’re so proud of you, baby, you have no idea), and Heather had texted him something almost coherent, and Lea had cried more than he did, and then they had all won and everyone had smashed up onto the stage (yes, even Darren), and after that he maybe sort of blacked out just a little because, seriously. What just happened?
All he’s aware of now is the giddiness running up and down his spine and the voice in his head telling him that if he wakes up without the god of all hangovers tomorrow morning, he was obviously doing it wrong. And yes, maybe he does have a seven am call time, and yes, maybe he can’t drink yet (legally), but really. Who’s going to say no to the boy who just won his first Golden Globe?
When he sees Darren, he’s got the thrill of victory and three shots of that-delicious-pink-stuff-Lea-gave-him coursing through his system, making his head a little lighter than normal and his inhibitions significantly lower. Darren clasps his arm and pulls him into a hug, gushing excitedly about congratulations and you totally deserved it, but he hardly hears any of it over the racing of his own heartbeat. Even through the stiff layers of formalwear, Darren’s warmth is overwhelming, and he can feel it spreading through his own body, a welcome and very noted presence. With the added high of the alcohol thrumming through his system, making him oh so sensitive to all this sight and sound and touch, well, he really never stood a chance.
Before he even knows what he’s doing, his fingers are curled up in Darren’s hair and he’s crashing their lips together. It’s hot and wet and perfect, and then over in a second. Darren pulls back to stare at him, mouth hanging open and eyes wide.
And somewhere, over all the alcohol buzzing through his brain, he realizes, that oh shit. He just kissed his costar. He just kissed his costar. His very, very, incredibly, painfully straight costar. And he sort of wants to run away, or hide, or maybe just phase through the floor and out of sight, but instead he’s caught with his heart in his throat and his feet stuck to the ground.
A moment (second, year?) passes with Darren staring at him and him staring straight back, and he’s really thinking that death might also be a good option, and then.
Darren smiles.
One of those incredibly goofy, slightly dapper, wholly Darren smiles.
And before he knows what he’s doing, Darren’s hands are curled into his hair, and their lips are crashing together again, and he can practically feel Darren smiling against his lips, before a little nip and the swipe of a tongue.
Because, really. Who’s going to say no to the boy who just won his first Golden Globe?