ledbythewind | APPOINTMENTS POST

Good. [He doesn't know why he says "good" - at this point, the chef swears his mouth has a life of its own, and the rest of him is just along for the ride. He also starts to lean some of his weight back against Richard, the alcohol slowly winding him down. Either he drink more to refuel his insanity or he consider that "go to bed" option he's heard is all the rage this time of night]

Hey, you th'nk you c'n walk?

[The answer to that question becomes obvious when that leaning proves to be enough to unbalance Richard and topple him right off his stool and onto the floor with a startled sound and a thud. He's not hurt, but he just sort of lies there as if trying to figure out why he's suddenly staring up at the ceiling.

Plz hold.]

[Sanji's holding, alright - onto the table, that is, before he topples over himself. That last bit of unplanned movement sends the room spinning, nearly loosening his grip with devastating consequences.

But no, damn it, this evening has been gay enough. He doesn't need to find himself spilled out on top of the other guy... Though he will lean over once his vision clears, trying to find the words that will sum this up.]

Damn it, Richard.

[Close enough.]

[Right now Sanji is little more than a vague blond blur blocking out some of the light-- not that Richard minds because it's kind of hurting his eyes. He just blinks up owlishly at his friend and manages a crooked smile, still thinking this entire thing is rather entertaining.]

Was this my fault?

Yes. [Immediate and automatic response is immediate and automatic. Now let's see if Sanji can figure out a way to stay standing while he shimmies out of his seat.]

G'nna hafta carry you.

[Fortunately Richard seems perfectly happy right where he is and isn't making any moves to stand up or do... anything else, really. It's nice down here on the floor. Things don't spin quite as much when he focuses on the ceiling!]

[Richard, you lazy shit. Making Sanji do all the hard work. Lucky for both of them the chef has been blessed with shonen balance - despite many, many unstable steps and a slight wobble in the knees, he doesn't once topple over.

... This doesn't help him with getting Richard off the floor, however. After spending a considerable amount of time just staring down at the other, Sanji finally toes his side]

Oi.

[It takes Richard a considerable amount of effort, but he finally manages to roll over onto the side that Sanji just poked and look up at him with an expression that can best be summed up as "but why did you do that?"]

... yes?

[He doesn't see what the problem is.]

Time to leave, Richard. [And don't give him that face, not during Sanji's struggle to make this easy on both of them.

But how to do this? There's always the sack of potatoes method... except nah, that would put too much pressure on Richard's stomach and he'd probably heave over the both of them. Then no one will be happy.

Maybe bridal style-- ahaha, haha, ha... ha. No.

Sanji sighs and uncrosses his arms, leaning down to capture one of Richard's hands.] 'M gonna pull you up. Then you climb on my back.

[Piggy back ride it is]

[Sorry Sanji, Richard is having a little trouble processing things at the moment. He can't quite figure out why you're holding his hand like that, meaning that instead of trying to stand up, HE'S going to try to pull Sanji down to his level much like he did with Hubert oh-so-long ago.

Gosh, if Sanji wanted to be down on the floor too, he could just have asked. Richard is all too happy to help on that front!]

[Fuuuuu--

Sanji's magic balance only accounts for when there are no other present factors to take into consideration - which is just a fancy way of saying Richard sends the drunk chef toppling over. That would normally be uncomfortable in its own right, but uh, seeing as he was right in front of him before the moment of falling, and suddenly he is felled, it's not the floor he lands on.

For the record? Richard is too bony to be comfortable, making it a shame that Sanji can't transform curse words into pillows]

[That sound that Richard just made? That may have been a squeak. Not a very intelligible squeak, granted, because it's difficult to make any sort of sound when you're having the air squashed out of your lungs, but a squeak nonetheless. Good thing he's used to being a (bony) pillow by now given how often Isamu has landed on top of him when their horseplay has gotten somewhat out of hand.

But still. Owww. HE'S SORRY ABOUT THE HIP BONES, SANJI, he knows those are kind of deadly weapons. He tries to squirm out from underneath the chef, but given how drunk he is and the fact that all of Sanji's weight is currently on top of him, it's not very successful.]

O-oi, would you stop fuckin-- [He abruptly cuts off his strangled plea, attention caught by the squirming and how it's resulting in a tangled mess of limbs and awkwardness. Really, of all the ways to end a night. Sanji's certain there's a god of irony out there that exists solely to shit on his parade.

His only salvation is being comparatively less drunk than his friend. While Richard struggles, Sanji unhooks one of their legs, redistributes the weight to his arms so for a brief moment he's hovering over him, and then simply rolls off to the side, flopping ungracefully to his back. Cue a deep sigh (sob?) of relief.]

[So much for this whole thing not getting any gayer. Richard's sorry about this, really-- or he would be if he were even aware of anything besides "oww, can't breathe." At least that aspect is alleviated when Sanji finally manages to flop off him with all of the grace of a beached whale. (Then again, given that Richard is currently doing a very accurate impression of a fish out of water, they're pretty evenly matched.)

It's clear this is going nowhere fast.]

[This isn't just going nowhere; it's practically going backwards thanks to their lack of progress. And it's all Richard's fault, for the record. Sanji will take pains to remind Richard of this fact for the rest of his life, so fuckin help him. ]

Richard. We need to go home. [Still lying on his back, Sanji speaks slowly and deliberately, noting with drunken pride that he slurs not a vowel for the first time in fifteen minutes]

We can't sleep on the floor.

We're on the floor?

[Somehow he's managed to forget that fact between everything that's happened in the past... two minutes. It takes him a moment, but he manages to lever himself up on an elbow to look over at Sanji, then look around the room.]

... so we are.

[Okay, trying to sit up now. Mostly failing, but the fact that he's even making an effort is a good sign.]

[Richard is so late to the party, Sanji doesn't even grace that with a reply - but at least he's moving. Sanji tries to move, too, though the action requires far more precision and energy than he expected. Every muscle twitch tilts the room at odd and uncomfortable angles, like reality is as drunk as they are.

Walking home will be an adventure - if they get home, that is.]

'M gunna carry you. [Blink. Head shake. Sanji cuts off his line of vision by abruptly shutting his eyes. Room, please stop moving] Y'got that?

All right.

[He actually did get that! But he's... not sure what he's supposed to do now. Should he try to stand up again? Probably not, considering he can't seem to do more than get himself up on that elbow.

Instead he'll just settle for half-sitting, half-sprawling on the floor the way he is now, just waiting for Sanji to make the next move.

BALL'S IN YOUR COURT, CHEF.]

[CAN'T THE BALL BE IN YOUR COURT FOR ONCE, RICHARD? Always making Sanji do the dirty work.

By now he's aware that if he tries to stand up and pull Richard with him, they'll both end up on the floor - and the floor and Richard's bony body will be as comfortable the second time around. So instead he shifts onto his hands and knees, scooting closer to the other before facing the opposite direction]

Just... hold onto m' neck. [Yes, bend right over him and clutch at his neck. This is a thing Sanji is asking Richard to do.

He really hopes he doesn't remember any of this tomorrow]

[... WELL, CONSIDERING HE IS THE ONE HERE THAT'S ACTUALLY INTERESTED IN BALLS...

... nah.

But he thinks he gets what Sanji wants him to do! Standing is out, but crawling over enough to flop himself on Sanji's back and put his arms around the man's neck is a definite possibility. He can manage this.

Except for the part where he kind of flops his entire weight onto Sanji. Whoops. Good thing he weighs approximately as much as a twig.]

[... Was that a stiff breeze brushing against his back? Oh, no, it was Richard flopping on top of him. Who weighs less than air, apparently. The tips of Sanji's mouth take a sharp turn south.]

'M makin' you breakfast 'n the mornin'. [Here's to hoping Richard is too drunk to argue before Sanji focuses on the task of standing. Leaning back, he braces both of his arms underneath Richard's legs and hauls them around his waist. Only once they're secure does he suck in a breath and start the long, laborious journey of climbing to his feet.

It takes him approximately 75 seconds, but hell, does every second stretch out for eternity. But Sanji is the one standing triumphant at the end, drunken king in tow]

Natto toast?

[Nope, no arguments here. As Sanji will no doubt learn, that is one of the few things that Richard will almost always eat despite any sort of lack of appetite. Too bad it's possibly the most disgusting food ever.

He's being good, at least, keeping his arms wrapped around Sanji's neck so that he can hold on as the process of liftoff gets started. Maybe wrapping his legs around Sanji's waist will help too! He's going to give it a try.

... no, he really doesn't think there's anything odd about that when he's this drunk.]

[Just keep your toes away from his groin, good sir. He'd hate to have to drop you on your ass. Though as for the request--]

Sure. [He answers before his imagination is kind enough to supply an image, and boy does his nose wrinkle. There are few foods as foul-smelling as natto, though Sanji can stomach it when necessary. But on toast? Ugh, and does he want it topped with some type of shitty cheese or--]

You really like that stuff? [Honest question. Sanji is hoping the answer is no, and he can get away with a "proper" breakfast of eggs and toast, maybe some pancakes.

Food not designed to destroying taste buds, essentially.]

[No worries there; he barely has the coordination to figure out how to get them around Sanji's waist in the first place, much less do anything else with them. He'll just be hanging there like the gawkiest koala ever-- one that is 90% legs, in other words.]

Yes, there's nothing quite like the taste of natto on toast. If only everyone else could understand how wonderful it is...

[Why does everyone hate it so? Okay, so it smells like three-day-old socks, but it tastes delicious, really! (Or maybe his taste buds are just broken, who knows. He's never thought too much about this.)

That's a "yes, that's what he wants for breakfast," by the way.]

Don't think the problem's everyone else, Richard. [Sorry bro. Your natto tastes like shit - this coming from the guy who will eat and make just about anything.]

But alright, I'll make it for you. [Pause] So long as the girls don't mind the smell. [After a brief grunt in which he hoists Richard a little higher along his back, the chef starts a very - very - slow stumble for the door. Drunk or not, he has no illusions about how long this walk home will take. It takes nearly all his concentration keeping his legs from crisscrossing.]

APPOINTMENTS POST

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[action, August 12th] oh god I am just laughing so hard at this entire thread

[action, August 12th] ROFL Luna I almost thought I was writing porn. What is this thread.

[action, August 12th] YOU MEAN IT'S NOT? /shot

action, August 12th] ROFL and suddenly everything makes SENSE.

[action, August 12th] Sanji is taking him home and making him breakfast, perfect setup!

[action, August 12th] My goodness, how bold of him.

[action, August 12th] Richard likes men who are forward

[action, August 12th] Too bad Sanji's usually a tsun.

[action, August 12th] Hahaha

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