Snafu

Restraint - Part 2

Celebrating with Alexis involved drinking copious amounts of alcohol while going from bar to bar. They debated which ones had the best music, tried out all the pool tables available, and spent way too long at an air hockey table in one of the spots. Elijah tagged along good-naturedly, drinking one or two beers at every bar, pacing himself so he could drive them from spot to spot and eventually home.

He finally called it a night when Cole took a pretty serious tumble trying to walk up the narrow set of stairs that led to one of the bars on the basement level of a building. He missed a step and missed the handrail. This resulted in him – unbelievably – falling face-first for the third time this week. He was going to give himself a concussion if he kept this up. This time, he at least managed to catch himself before smacking his face, but he scraped his hands hard on the gritty, non-stick steps. And because he was drunk and flailed awkwardly, he took the edge of a step straight to the ribs and banged his knee hard.

Elijah and Alexis were tough love friends if there ever were any. Alexis draped herself across the handrail and giggled about what a clumsy drunk he was. Elijah hauled him up, stuffed them both into the car and then dropped him off at Gideon's place with orders to absolutely stay in contact. Alexis wanted to know what life with a Barta was like. Elijah really was just concerned for Cole's safety. At least somebody was.

It was well past dark, so Cole stumbled across the porch beneath the cast-iron lantern shining far overhead. He shut the door behind himself and leaned back against it, clutching the handle for balance. He had been right to be terrified of Alexis's celebrating. Once again, he was far drunker than he usually felt comfortable with, the floor tipping beneath him like the deck of a ship. At least he was not as drunk as the night with James. He could still walk straight for the most part if stairs were not involved. He glared at the staircase disappearing into the shadowy darkness of the second floor, where a shower and his bed were. The sight made his ribs ache.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in."

Cole was startled so badly that he actually lost his grip on the handle and slid down to his butt on the ground. He clasped his hands beneath his thighs and glared at Gideon. "Holy shit, don't scare me like that."

Gideon stood in the doorway of the study, wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, his hair unstyled so that it hung loosely around his eyes, a mug with a teabag hanging out of it in one hand. Cole groaned and tipped sideways, trying to turn around so that he could grab the door handle, tumble back outside, and pretend that this was not happening. He'd only been in this house for four nights, including tonight, and half of them were spent tumble-down drunk. Not the impression he wanted to make.

"What are you doing?"

"Running away," Cole grumbled as he fumbled with the handle. Except the door swung in, and he was leaning against it, so he was not getting very far.

"Why?"

"I'm a mess. Don't want you to see that." He gave up and glared at Gideon. "I thought you always went out to do shit for your family at this time."

"Not always." Gideon sipped his tea. "What happened to you?"

"I don't usually drink," Cole explained. This was all he felt he needed to explain. He was this much of a mess because he could not tolerate alcohol. And he'd just been out with Alexis, a pro at tolerating alcohol. And Elijah was not the type of chaperone to try and help Cole make good choices. He was the type of chaperone to let it all be fun and games until someone fell down the stairs, then he stepped in.

"Okay, I meant what happened to your hand, though. It's all busted up."

"My hand?" Cole's head snapped down, and he looked at the scrapes on his palms. He was lucky not to have broken a wrist by putting his hands out to catch himself like that earlier. Dried blood was smeared all over one hand, but the cuts were not actively bleeding anymore.