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Here you'll find
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Mount Robillard
22. A Night Off"Great show, guys!" Vanya yelled over the din of music, waving his nearly overflowing glass in a sweeping gesture towards the door.The two flustered young men who had just entered the room flashed blinding smiles to him and waved a hand to the general applause around them. Their faces were slightly red and looked freshly scrubbed which was only natural, as they practically came straight from the shower and long blond locks of different hues were still wet, tangling together where their shoulders touched each other. André wrapped an arm around Lancer's waist and laughed breathlessly, feeling how the body by his side began to sway to the irresistible beat. "Give way to a special transport!" Fonzo plowed his way through the throng and pushed a tall glass of something bluish and swirling to each one of them. "Drinks for the stars!" "Thanks!" Lancer grasped the offered beverage greedily. "Mmm, this is delicious... exactly what I needed right now!" "Don't worry, bombshell, I remembered," Fonzo grinned to André who was eyeing his glass with unmistakable longing and an equal share of wariness. "Just a drop of alcohol for your special brain, the stiffer one went to Lancer." "Oh, good!" Without another doubt André downed nearly a third of the drink in one go and sighed. "Real good..." "If you made it too stiff, Fonzo, I will make you pay!" Scott appeared next to Lancer and hugged him close, unmistakably possessive. "I will never forgive you if Lancer nods off before the end of this party." André chuckled and meekly loosened his hold as Lancer practically molded against Scott's wiry body. Tipped off by Lancer, he'd kept an eye on Scott during this first joint performance, and had been greatly amused by the glint of jealousy that had appeared more than once in those dark blue eyes watching their playful antics. Of course Scott knew it was all just a show, but obviously he couldn't help his reaction whenever 'Queen Marie' was flagrantly flirting with someone in the audience. Now that they were again out of drag and being themselves, Scott looked determined not to let go of his lover at all. Not that Lancer seemed to mind. Fonzo huffed. "Scottie, I'd never do that! After all, why would I want to spoil anyone's night, let alone yours?" "No he wouldn't," Vanya agreed. He was practically hanging on Corinn, one muscular arm thrown around the man's broad shoulders that looked every inch sturdy enough to support even his considerable weight. Corinn's big hand was very visibly placed on Vanya's firm ass, fingers splayed for a good hold, not exactly groping but not much short of it either. "But look, you beauties, I've got a question for you that I've been dying to ask the whole night." "Well, shoot!" Lancer looked at him expectantly. "How the hell do you manage to even stand in those shoes?" Vanya asked solemnly. "Stand, walk, sway, all that stuff? I swear, those heels are at least twelve centimeters high..." "Sixteen," André corrected with a smirk. Vanya rolled his eyes. "Well, whatever those are murder weapons! Nobody should be able to breeze around on those things without breaking their ankles. But you make it look like it's, well, just about the easiest thing in the world." "I think I can put it in a word: practice." Lancer smiled brightly. "And then some more practice." "Your ankles must be made of steel," Vanya observed, then grunted as the arm that had been resting loosely on his back suddenly tightened into a stranglehold around his waist. "You get your mind off their ankles, Mr. Blowjobman, before it slips to other body parts," Corinn growled to his ear, not even trying to lower his voice. Vanya turned to give him a meaningful leer. "Make me, gorgeous," he purred. "Go right ahead." "Spotlight, quick!" Percy gestured wildly with both hands, pointing at Corinn and Vanya who stood nose to nose and stared challengingly at each other, both fighting against a smile that threatened to break through any moment. "Sorry, not available at the moment," Corinn said without turning his head. "You see, I handled the lights tonight." "C'mon, Shaun, I think we'll go get something to eat now," Fonzo said to his inevitable sidekick and half-pushed, half-pulled the young clone away. Shaun nearly snapped his head around trying to continue staring bug-eyed at the blatant display still going on behind them, but Fonzo resolutely steered him away from the sight. Those two were totally shameless, and even on perfectly normal days the aura of sex surrounding them was nearly tangible. Tonight they were out for fun, and boy did it show! The first glimpse of their idea of festive clothing had left poor Fonzo wondering whether a blindfold wouldn't, after all, be the best choice of headwear for Shaun that night. Those trousers gave a whole new dimension to 'skin-tight' and left only the finer details of the guys' masculine endowments to imagination. And as to the artfully torn and slashed tops that revealed a generous amount of well-toned upper bodies rippling with muscle, well, what could one say? Not a lot, Fonzo concluded and spanned his fingers to grab a firm but gentle hold of Shaun's neck. The boy wiggled a little but didn't try to get loose, instead giving Fonzo a slightly mischievous smile. "Fonzo, are you sure I couldn't have a proper drink?" he asked innocently. Fonzo frowned at him. "Yeah, I am," he grunted. "You're still too young." "But what does age matter anyway?" Shaun inquired, hands on hips. "I mean, who cares about my real age? And I have been made to grow up quicker, I know I look older than I am!" "Sorry. Even if we ignore your real age, you even look too young for spirits." Fonzo smiled to give his sternness a softer edge and winked to the boy. "But let me tell you, proper drinks don't necessarily contain alcohol. Here, let's see if I can still make one of those multi-layered ones." Shaun's complaints were soon forgotten as he stared in fascination at the rainbow of colors that Fonzo began to trickle into a tall glass with infinite patience. "Cool..." "That's clever," Arria said, holding his breath as he, too, found his attention completely absorbed by the sight. One by one the color layers took shape, swirled a little and then settled beautifully once more. Osip turned to look towards the serving table, too, and let out a little chuckle. "Fonzo's a man of many surprises," he admitted. "And the kid adores him." "I think it's mutual," Arria said. "However much Fonzo grumbles about Shaun always trailing along, he really likes the boy." Standing next to them, Orwel eyed the crowd around himself somewhat warily. Even though he'd been allowed some freedom of movement as of late, this melee of music, lights, laughter, drinks, food and general entertainment was such a far cry from the usual atmosphere that he felt derailed. It was so much like those parties they used to have back home, years ago, when they were still in their teens. Or the parties Osip had thrown while at the Academy, before Orwel had felt it necessary to stop showing up in them, fearing that his brother and his fun-loving friends might one day cause a blemish in his reputation. And damn, had he been right to fear that... He shrugged the unpleasant memories away and tried to concentrate on the drink in his hand. It tasted a little tangy, a little sweet, and more than a little strong. "Such attachment is really astonishing to see," he mumbled. "But then, it depends so much on how rigorously the keeper enforces the Code. Apparently his has been more lax." "Like you were with your kids?" Osip's eyes were sympathetic, and his brother nodded. "I didn't see why it would be so necessary, or even beneficial, to be always so distant and mechanical with them." His gaze drifted towards Scott, darkly handsome, standing in a small group of people, Lancer firmly ensconced under his arm. Orwel nodded towards them. "His group, obviously, has been treated very differently. But then, he's from the earlier batches. They were different." "In what way?" Arria asked. Even though this was a night of fun, there was no harm in listening if somebody wanted to talk business, provided it didn't last the whole evening. "They required a lot more tweaking while growing up." Orwel smiled wryly. "Hormones, diet, you name it. They were observed closely and mistakes were immediately corrected in subsequent batches. Oh, the scientists were busy between every batch!" "I suppose that means Shaun's pretty much going to stay like that, then," Osip guessed and looked at the clone who was lifting his glass up with both hands and marveling at the well organized riot of colors inside it. Orwel nodded ruefully. "He probably will. As will my kids." "You really miss them," Arria stated with mild surprise, and Orwel's jaw tightened. "Well, what does it matter?" he said dourly. "I'm here, they're there, end of story." "Right." Osip patted his brother's shoulder. "But hey, no brooding now, especially not about things none of us can do anything about. And oh, excuse us, brother, but right now I think they're playing our tune..." He led a very cooperative Arria to dance. Orwel sat down by a small table to watch them, feeling somewhat out of place. He'd never been a great party animal, and the Plains Base staff had definitely not indulged in anything like this. Not that the atmosphere of relaxation and general good mood didn't feel nice, Orwel admitted to himself. This was fun. He'd already started to get familiar with the Robillard base and its people, but the party was a surprise. The mere idea sounded extraordinary, and now that he was in the middle of the real thing, well, he couldn't imagine why anybody would want to go to town anyway. They had everything here. Even highly professional-level drag artists who'd kept everybody spellbound from the first moment to the last, sang like fallen archangels, and really enjoyed what they were doing. And a band, a self-proclaimed amateur band that consisted almost exclusively of the base's medics and could easily put many professional bands to shame. Orwel looked around and a smile tugged his lips. Bonding, that was it. This was a superb way to bring people together, and numerous times he'd been surprised to observe how informally the various ranks interacted. This was their common enterprise, and maybe exactly that made them so strong, strong and efficient far beyond their actual numbers? Hadn't he been dreaming about something like this for his kids, too? He shook his head slightly, bemused, and focused instead on two golden heads tilted conspiratorially towards each other, some meters from him. The amazing T-clones! After seeing them together a few times he didn't doubt Osip's tall claims any more. No, he was fully willing to believe they could communicate between different galaxies, so thoroughly had the pair impressed him. Right now he could've sworn that the air around them was vibrating slightly, though of course it was just a trick of light, an optical illusion, nothing more. But they sure were fascinating... Adrien looked around in the transformed canteen, eyes glittering. "This is so interesting!" he stated. "I have a feeling I've been in a place like this before... must have been on a previous mission, because I can't actually remember anything about it." André nodded at the vague images flitting through the other clone's mind, then sipped another mouthful of his pale blue drink. "Ooh, this is fun! Back at Maurice's I couldn't do anything like this after a show, but here I can... Who are you looking at?" Adrien blushed a little and turned again to his 'brother' after the moment of distraction, but André was quick to pick up the instantaneous flash on the surface. His eyes creased in surprise. "Wilson? Hey, go ahead and ask her to dance!" "But I'm not sure I know how to dance," Adrien said and was rewarded with a firm mental push. "I'm pretty sure you do know if you only try! Get going now!" André laughed quietly to himself and aided his fellow clone with a physical nudge as well, pouring encouragement into the humming link between them. He watched, resolutely not eavesdropping, as Adrien walked shyly to the red-haired pilot and said something. Wilson's sharp-featured face registered surprise, then she laughed and nodded pulling the blond clone eagerly towards the dance floor. After one more gentle reassuring touch on his twin's mind André turned, already prodding around for someone particular. Ah, there... he knocked lightly and his smile broadened when his eyes met Rori's searching gaze. The young medic navigated through the crowd. "Is everything all right?" he asked, a small worried crease between dark eyebrows. André cocked his head. "Not quite. I've been waiting for somebody to ask me to dance, but that hasn't happened so far." Rori blinked at him and André shook his head slightly. "Well, it really looks like I'll have to do the asking if I want to dance with the person in question. So. Would you dance with me?" "Me?" Rori swallowed and André chuckled. "You're hopeless, Rori! Yes, you. Would you dance with me?" Rori found himself staring into sky-blue eyes from a very short distance, which was no wonder because all of a sudden he had his arms full of a slim body, hands somewhere hidden under a tickling mass of golden hair. André smiled playfully and pressed closer against him, and Rori swallowed again. "Yes or no, Rori?" André demanded. "I want to dance with you. Do you want to dance with me?" "Yeah..." The throaty croak was nowhere near the velvety whisper Rori had been hoping for, but obviously it satisfied the blond beauty who just sighed in mock exasperation, then smiled some more and began to tug his dumbfounded partner towards the magic circle. Some time later, Fonzo shook his head incredulously and turned away. He couldn't bear to watch anymore. There was not a shred of doubt about it André was poised to seduce Rori and seemed to be making definite headway. Of course picking such a public place for it was a clear sign that he didn't mind if others was what was happening, but Fonzo knew that people might occasionally get a little carried away, and it was his firm opinion that when that happened, others around should at least have the decency not to stare. So he decided to find something else to watch, even though tonight it wasn't very easy. The atmosphere had been heated to start with, and it was growing only more heady as the night wore on. The next moment he realized that Shaun was not by his side as per usual. Where was the brat? He automatically began a quick search for the two sex maniacs but didn't spot them either. Shit! Of course Fonzo wasn't worried about Shaun as such. He was just pretty sure that Vanya and Corinn wouldn't bother going all the way to their room if they wanted some quick release which they'd most likely need before the evening was quite over, after all that rubbing against each other and he didn't want the ever curious Shaun to sneak after them to watch. Shaun was a kid, goddamnit! Kids didn't need to see and experience and know everything at once, no matter what they themselves thought, and right now that particular kid was nowhere to be seen. "I don't think Fonzo would be happy to see that." The half-full glass of beer nearly slipped from Shaun's fingers, and he quickly put it back on the table before turning to glance over his shoulder. Orwel's dark face was serious and amused at the same time, and the clone instinctively blushed in shame under the eyes of a Keeper. "I'm sure he has a point in keeping you away from alcohol," the man continued. "After all, you've been genetically enhanced and we can't know for sure how alcohol mixes with that. T-clones are not the only ones here who might have reason to be cautious, you know." "Yes, sir," Shaun whispered. "I am sorry, sir." "You don't need to call me 'sir', Shaun." Orwel looked at him appraisingly. "Orwel is enough. Tell me, which batch were you originally from? And who was the Keeper of your group?" Shaun rattled out the entire batch ID. "We were all from the same batch. Our Keeper was Captain Blaine." Orwel nodded. He hadn't been far off the mark, then. "Did you like him? Was he nice to you?" Shaun nodded eagerly. "Yes! We liked him a lot! He was always kind to us." I wish I could have a word with the man some day, Orwel thought wistfully to himself, then forgot any further questions as he spotted Fonzo. The man was scowling darkly and heading towards the door from which a very smug Corinn and slightly glassy-eyed Vanya were just emerging back to the canteen. He nudged Shaun's arm. "I think Fonzo's looking for you." "Oh!" Shaun obediently bolted towards his mountain-sized friend and clamped himself on Fonzo's secure arm. Orwel looked at the boy's shining face and Fonzo's very obvious relief, and sighed. He was willing to bet that Captain Blaine would be equally fascinated and glad as he himself to see the clones now. There was such potential in them. Such a pity that the Union wasn't too interested in using nearly all of it, instead being satisfied to mold them into a predetermined format. A shadow of doubt, a lingering suspicion of the righteousness of the whole cloning program fluttered again around the edges of his mind, distracting him so that he started when a big hand tapped on his shoulder. "Enjoying yourself?" "Mm-hmm... I think I'm definitely beginning to see the immense benefits of these parties." Orwel raised his glass, noticed it was empty, and made a face. Osip laughed. "Aww, little brother's ran out of juice! C'mon, let's get you another... but that'll mean we'll have to break through that human shield first." A considerable group of pilots seemed to have taken permanent residence around the drinks table. Another roar of laughter erupted from them and Osip strolled closer with a grin, Arria firmly tucked to his side and Orwel trailing along. "I mean, it's completely unfair!" As usual, Maschani's hands were speaking at least as much as his mouth. "We really shouldn't allow permit don't you agree, Osip?" "Agree about what?" Osip asked. "Sorry, flyboys, I didn't hear the topic." "We were saying shut up, guys, I'm trying to explain here! So, Clovis here said that he sure hopes the Union won't launch an attack tonight or tomorrow morning, 'cause none of us is in the condition to fly anything..." "I couldn't agree more," Osip chuckled. "... and so Percy " "It wasn't Percy, it was Greer!" "Well, whoever... said that it's real unfair that they always get to call the shots. I mean, they keep attacking us, and we just sit 'ere and wait for them." Maschani emphasized his words by hitting his palm with a fist and nearly missing it. "And then we all thought that what the hell, why don't we sometimes attack their base? That'd teach them a lesson!" Emphatic nods all around mingled with dismissive 'poohs' that immediately made the most eager attack advocates bristle despite the playful mood. The conversation was also noisy enough to attract wider attention, and within twenty seconds the group had nearly tripled in size and was involved in a boisterous debate over a suitable strategy. "You wouldn't get within a hundred kilometers of the base before there'd be a full alarm and you'd be faced with the whole clone fleet!" Lindell predicted loudly, ignoring the heated protests of at least three pilots. "Besides, what could you hope to achieve without bombers, even if you managed to get so close?" "We could always fire at the buildings," somebody retorted and got a snort for a reply. "Yeah, but you wouldn't even know what to aim at! The Plains Base is damn big!" "And their AD and surveillance is beyond top-notch, you'd never get close enough to fire a single blast before being shot down yourselves." "Well that only means we'd have to disable their ground operations first. Stop them from launching a counterattack and jam their AD." "Oh yeah? So simple, how come I never came to think about that! And how do you propose to do it?" Everybody was talking into each other's mouths and trying to make themselves heard in the general noise. "You're forgetting me Mr. Blowjobman!" Vanya drawled from somewhere behind them and more than one person spun around to look at him. He pointed proudly at himself. "Why the hell does everybody keep calling him that?" Orwel hissed to his brother, cheeks burning. "Simply because he blows up things," Osip explained with a grin. "Vanya's a highly qualified explosives specialist. Though I suppose it just might refer to another field of expertise, too." "No need to elaborate, thank you," Orwel mumbled. "I think I can guess well enough." "I can guarantee maximum damage in minimum time, with minimum risk," Vanya continued. In his outrageous outfit, one arm flung around the neck of an equally outrageously dressed Corinn, a slim bottle in his free hand, blond hair jutting rebelliously, he still somehow managed to look positively dangerous. And not least because of the steel-hard glint in his pale blue eyes that suddenly were quite sober. "Myself with a few guys on the ground. You providing a good decoy from the air. Piece of cake. They'll never know what hit them." He took a long swig from the bottle, winked to Arria and gave Corinn a resounding kiss on the cheek. The crowd cheered and laughed, though more than one pair of eyes had turned slyly speculative. Osip noticed the tense wrinkle between his brother's thick eyebrows and cleared his throat. "Guys, do I really need to remind you that this is our night off?" he asked. "Not that I mind your planning, but quite honestly, talk like that smacks rather too much of work right now..." "Commander's absolutely right," Vanya agreed wholeheartedly and ground his hips against Corinn's, coaxing a low groan from him. "Tonight no work, just fun. Tomorrow's another matter, though." "Hmm... let's make it the day after tomorrow," Osip corrected. "I won't discuss strategies with anybody with a hangover. Now, shoo everybody, go get yourselves soaked! You won't have another opportunity for a while!" "Awww, don't remind us, Osip!" About a dozen people immediately charged towards the table to get a refill, the Commanders and Orwel following right behind. Corinn simply reached over, grabbed another bottle and proceeded to drag his unresisting partner towards a corner. Orwel smiled to Fonzo who joined the group around the drinks table, this time accompanied by Shaun as was right and proper. Fonzo glanced after his friends and made a face. "Someone must've laced the drinks!" he said. "I swear everybody's acting crazy tonight." "Well, if those two are anything to go by, then the drinks must've been laced with sedatives!" Arria snorted. "Clothes aside, they haven't really been much worse than usual. Just more drunk." "I wouldn't be so sure," Fonzo grumbled. "I mean, look around! Adrien's definitely been hitting on Wilson, and unless I'm totally wrong and Rori's really thought he'd have no chance with André, I bet he's reconsidered tonight. And those are just two of the more recent novelties." "I have been deplorably unobservant," Osip said with a deep sigh. "I've only seen my handsome lover tonight, none of these other interesting developments you've mentioned." "Don't you think we ought to correct that?" Arria hugged him closer. "We might take a tour around and see how many couples of lovebirds we're able to observe." "Good idea! Us, that's one. Now let's see... Is this their natural habitat?" Lancer was trying to coax a small bruise under Scott's right ear, but he was momentarily distracted by Arria's jubilant voice saying "six!" somewhere behind his left shoulder. He opened his eyes and tried to peer around to see what the two Commanders were up to, but Scott's arms tightened around him and the hand roaming to his buttocks swiftly brought his mind back to the matter at hand. "Uhh... Scott..." "Mmmm?" Scott nuzzled the side of his neck under long wisps of hair, sharp front teeth grazing an earlobe. "Did you still want to stay much longer?" "Why do you ask?" Scott pulled back enough to look at him, their noses touching. "Because I want to go soon," Lancer said, lids falling to half-mast. Scott smiled a little and pressed their groins together. "Scott!" "I think we might go," Scott agreed hoarsely. "We have been dancing for quite a long time already. And we can take drinks with us." "Oh, forget about that!" Lancer took his hand and together they slipped out of the canteen-turned-nightclub, into the corridor where only the hum of ventilation broke the ear-splitting silence. Scott laughed aloud when Lancer suddenly snatched his arm free and broke into a run. He chased the blond all the way to their room where they both threw themselves on the bed and tried to catch their breath. "Ooh man, that was fun!" Lancer stretched himself languidly on the bed, wiggling out of his long shirt in one clever movement. Another couple of seconds and his tight trousers joined the shirt on the floor, next to the chair where both had been aimed. Scott sat up to watch him hungrily and Lancer turned fully on his back on the bed, feet on the floor, legs slightly spread. He smiled, lips parted. "You're too damn dressed," he said, raised a foot and slid his toes up and down along Scott's jacket zipper. Scott's breath hitched when the foot quite accidentally slipped lower to brush against the front of his trousers, and he began to tug the jacket open, smirking challengingly at Lancer who watched him under half-closed lids, fingers drawing teasing circles on the pale skin of his own belly and thighs. Scott shrugged out of the jacket and kicked the rest of his clothing out of the way, then knelt beside the bed and bent over Lancer to kiss his chest. His body pressed deliciously on Lancer's jutting cock, hands ghosting over skin and digging under narrow hips that were obligingly lifted a little. He purred low in his throat. "Scott, the lube..." "Mmmh," Scott agreed absently and took the tube that Lancer pressed into his hand, squeezed a generous amount on his palm and fingers, all the while busy licking and sucking the brown nipples. Lancer wriggled underneath him, then whined when Scott's fingers found the crack between his buttocks. He giggled breathlessly. "It's cold!" "Not for long," Scott breathed and kissed him, savoring the way Lancer sucked his tongue deeper. The kiss went on and on, Scott listened to the tiny eager sounds and smiled against those delicious lips. He eased a finger in and Lancer's slim legs crept around his waist to pull him closer with some urgency. "Shh, love... slow..." Lancer threw his head back. This felt simply too good. "Slow, my ass!" he moaned and Scott laughed. "Precisely, Lancer!" His lips attacked again Lancer's neck, fingers delving deeper, and he promptly choked when a narrow hand dove between them to spread the cool lube on him. He was so hard it nearly hurt, and the maddening friction of Lancer's erection on his belly sent shivers through his whole body. Scott trembled. Every time, every time he remembered that first night when they had made love, and it never failed to arouse him even more, no matter how ready he was. Busy fingers caressed his erection, and he bit Lancer's throat. "Stop!" Scott grabbed the stroking hand. He couldn't wait any longer, couldn't resist the pull of those legs, and their eyes locked when he positioned himself and pushed inside in one long sweeping slide. Lancer exhaled slowly as he took Scott in, lashes fluttering, sweat gluing errant hairs on his face, then he smiled and his thighs trembled on Scott's hips. "Like what you see?" he panted. Scott nodded wordlessly and began to drive in, quickly forgetting everything but the man he was holding. So close, so hot, so beautiful... so fascinating, his blond lover. So velvety, so tight, so perfect. Lancer's arms clutched him almost painfully, he came with a hissing moan and Scott willingly followed him over the edge, collapsing on the pale body underneath him. Lancer stared into the ceiling and tried to steady his errant breath. Bright sparkles were still flying across his field of vision and he blew gently a lock of dark hair out of his mouth. "Scott... you're... what the hell?!" Scott pushed himself up with both arms and shot a dirty look at the shrilly beeping door. He pulled reluctantly out and grabbed his trousers from the floor, trying to step into them while walking towards the offending passageway. He growled. "If this is somebody's idea of a good prank, I swear I will gut them alive." He pressed the 'open' button. Luckily he was standing by the side of the door, because otherwise the wall of flesh that tumbled in and fell on the floor with a resounding thump would certainly have buried him alive. Lancer bolted up, wrapping the corner of a blanket around his hips, and stared. "Oops." Vanya blinked owlishly up at Lancer. "Why're you upside down?" "Because you're on your back on the floor, idiot," Corinn grumbled on top of him and tried to disentangle himself. "Sorry 'bout this. We were heading to our own room, but somehow got distracted along the way." "Don't pay no attention to him," Vanya said in a condescending tone as Corinn fumbled for support and Scott pulled him on his feet. "He's drunk. And he was the distraction. I didn't do nothin'. But why'd you open the door?" "You were pushing the call button, that's why!" Lancer studied the two men who had somehow, with Scott's assistance, got themselves mostly upright. He couldn't decide whether he ought to laugh or yell at them. "Yeah, I'm sure it was an accident, and I don't want to know what you were about to do outside our door!" "That's right." Corinn nodded energetically. "You don't want to know. Now, Mr. Blowjobman, lemme take you to our room." Unceremoniously he wrapped an arm around Vanya's waist and started towards the still open door. "C'mon, man, move those feet." Vanya obeyed and they headed out, but at the door he stretched a long arm to grab a hold of the doorframe. He turned around and winked. "An' they'll never know what hit them," he said sagely before disappearing into the corridor. Lancer burst into a helpless giggle while Scott closed the door with a suspicious frown. Somehow he suspected that the men really weren't half as drunk as they had appeared to be.
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