The Weekend (Narry)

ocht

"What whiskey will not cure there is no cure for."
Irish Proverb

"Now what are you doing?" Harry runs his fingers through his hair, trying to figure out how to handle the mess.

"Havin' a drink." Niall nods to the bartender fixing him something.

"We're supposed to be heading to Dublin."

"And we are." He says. "We're just taking a break for a drink and directions."

Harry huffs, setting his luggage down and sitting in the barstool beside Niall. He figures he might as well get something too, to be polite. The bartender puts Niall's beer in front of him and then looks to Harry. Harry asks for whatever Niall has, not wanting to waste the time to ask what the bartender has on draft.

"So the stick in the mud from Boston does drink a thing or two." Niall grins over his glass, and Harry rolls his eyes.

"Just being polite." He mumbles.

Niall raises an eyebrow. "That's a first."

The bartender sets Harry's glass in front of him and leaves the two of them alone. Niall drinks silently, and Harry's mind is whirring with thoughts of what's going to happen next. Will he make it to Dublin on time? It's already late, and with Niall's time management skills it's highly unlikely that they'll make it to the city tonight. That leaves Harry hoping to arrive before noon tomorrow, so that he has the day and Saturday to enact his plan and surprise Louis.

"Why do you dislike Dublin?" Harry asks Niall.

"Hmm?"

"You didn't want to drive me to Dublin. You said something or other about the city, and I figure you dislike it. Why?"

Niall sets down his drink, turning to look at Harry. "I don't dislike the city. The city is actually lovely. I just don't fancy driving a snobby American across my country."

"The tiger doesn't lose sleep over the opinion of the sheep." Harry shrugs, taking a drink. Niall gives him a judgmental look.

"Did you just call yourself a tiger?"

"It's figurative language."

"You called yourself a tiger."

"And in turn, you a sheep."

Niall lets out a noise similar to that of a dying lamb, and for the first time today, Harry laughs at him with more amusement in his tone than rueful disgust. It's probably the alcohol's doing, anyway.

"Called a tow truck."

"Oh." Harry takes a drink.

"We've got to walk further into town if we want to find a ride, though. Wouldn't trust anyone here...too inebriated."

"Makes sense."

"Finish your drink, and then we'll get going." Niall finishes off his beer, setting the glass on the bar and reaching into his pocket for his wallet. Harry nods, downing his own beer and grabbing his own money. He isn't sure if drinking was a good idea.

major hint when it comes to enjoying this story: suspend disbelief now and forever