![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
antivanrufflesI chat with Rae a lot, yeah?
Rae: Jamie as a deer
So since THAT happened (and an ensuing chat full of screaming and capslock) THIS happened.....
It was nearing two in the morning. Jamie had spent most of the night glued to his couch watching as fireworks went off around the world when the clock hit midnight. He watched the ball drop in Times Square, and was tempted to say up to see something on the west coast.
His coffee table was littered with the remains of take out Indian food, the lighter he no longer used, a glass with condensation rolling down the sides, making a ring on the wood, and a bottle of Jack Daniels. He rocked forward, snatched the bottle and glass, and leaned back in his spot. He titled the bottle, but nothing came out. Frowning, he lifted the bottle of up, looking at the bottom of it.
Empty.
Well that fucking sucked.
He rocked forward again and placed both items back on the table, a little too hard, the glass thunking loudly. He looked toward the clock on the wall, squinting. When that didn’t seem to help, he shook himself like a dog and tried again.
“Fuckin’ clock,” he mumbled when it refused to come into focus. Perhaps bed would be best? Jamie blinked, opened his eyes wide, and tried to stand. Or so he thought. It appeared he was still sitting in the couch? He tried again. This time he got up half way, knees still bent, before crashing down on the couch.
“kay, ya can do this man.” He steeled himself, braced his hands on his thighs and tried again. He got up far enough to straighten his legs slightly, back hunched forward with his hand still on his legs. The world seemed to shift then, the apartment moving violently to one side. He stumbled to the right, threw out a hand to steady himself, and fell backwards, his hip crashing against the arm of couch.
“Jesus, dude, you’re not tha’ drunk.” He rubbed his face, letting out a deep breath. “But 'm talkin' to myself. Shit.”
He decided to give it one last go. He stood slowly, one hand hovering over the end of the couch in case he fell back again. He straightened slowly, grinning at the achievement. With his hand still barely brushing the arm of the couch, fingers straight, he turned slowly to head toward his bedroom.
So far so good. He walked around the back of the couch slowly, swaying slightly with the movement of the room swimming before his eyes. Then he blinked and everything tilted violently again. Jamie gripped the back of the couch tightly, waiting for the room to stop spinning. Once it calmed down, he sat on the back of the couch and threw one leg over it, meaning to slide down to the cushions and spend the night there.
The next thing he knew he was looking up at the ceiling of his apartment, the floor under him, his lungs screaming for air and his heart racing. Jamie reached up, tugged on the fleece blanket he kept on the couch, letting it slither onto his body.
“I’mma say here,” he moaned as he wrapped himself up and passed out.
Rae: Jamie as a deer
So since THAT happened (and an ensuing chat full of screaming and capslock) THIS happened.....
It was nearing two in the morning. Jamie had spent most of the night glued to his couch watching as fireworks went off around the world when the clock hit midnight. He watched the ball drop in Times Square, and was tempted to say up to see something on the west coast.
His coffee table was littered with the remains of take out Indian food, the lighter he no longer used, a glass with condensation rolling down the sides, making a ring on the wood, and a bottle of Jack Daniels. He rocked forward, snatched the bottle and glass, and leaned back in his spot. He titled the bottle, but nothing came out. Frowning, he lifted the bottle of up, looking at the bottom of it.
Empty.
Well that fucking sucked.
He rocked forward again and placed both items back on the table, a little too hard, the glass thunking loudly. He looked toward the clock on the wall, squinting. When that didn’t seem to help, he shook himself like a dog and tried again.
“Fuckin’ clock,” he mumbled when it refused to come into focus. Perhaps bed would be best? Jamie blinked, opened his eyes wide, and tried to stand. Or so he thought. It appeared he was still sitting in the couch? He tried again. This time he got up half way, knees still bent, before crashing down on the couch.
“kay, ya can do this man.” He steeled himself, braced his hands on his thighs and tried again. He got up far enough to straighten his legs slightly, back hunched forward with his hand still on his legs. The world seemed to shift then, the apartment moving violently to one side. He stumbled to the right, threw out a hand to steady himself, and fell backwards, his hip crashing against the arm of couch.
“Jesus, dude, you’re not tha’ drunk.” He rubbed his face, letting out a deep breath. “But 'm talkin' to myself. Shit.”
He decided to give it one last go. He stood slowly, one hand hovering over the end of the couch in case he fell back again. He straightened slowly, grinning at the achievement. With his hand still barely brushing the arm of the couch, fingers straight, he turned slowly to head toward his bedroom.
So far so good. He walked around the back of the couch slowly, swaying slightly with the movement of the room swimming before his eyes. Then he blinked and everything tilted violently again. Jamie gripped the back of the couch tightly, waiting for the room to stop spinning. Once it calmed down, he sat on the back of the couch and threw one leg over it, meaning to slide down to the cushions and spend the night there.
The next thing he knew he was looking up at the ceiling of his apartment, the floor under him, his lungs screaming for air and his heart racing. Jamie reached up, tugged on the fleece blanket he kept on the couch, letting it slither onto his body.
“I’mma say here,” he moaned as he wrapped himself up and passed out.
