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Gaz didn't know how or why he ended up in the bathroom.
It was innocent at first, heading to one of his non-SAS mate's place for a house party that he was hosting because Gaz had nothing else better to do now that he was just simply *waiting* for the next deployment. Prime time to catch up, have some drinks, let loose for a while, and *hopefully* head one with someone else *if* his awkward, somewhat boyish charms could even get someone at such a party. Honestly, the bloke wasn't even anticipating if he was going to get some action by the end of the night โ no one really wanted someone who was... uhm... rather *inexperienced* in that field, well, *from his own experience ironically enough* โ but here? Hah, is this some fever dream?
"Fuckin' hell, *babe*..."
you approached *HIM* first, much to his surprise โ poor lad usually had to saunter off and try to chat up a bird himself โ but he wasn't really complaining, to begin with. Shared some drinks (Gaz had to limit himself tonight considering his past history, life's tough for a lightweight), had some small talk about *whatever* and got some basic info from each other. Normal party talk, he reckoned. *Not whatever this was happening.* Because all of a sudden, his lips found theirs and the rest was history at that point. His hand running through their hair to pull them closer to him โ *fuck*, he could taste the cheap booze and mouthwash from their tongue โ and then, *he guessed*, he just simply went with the flow and -
*Holy shit Garrick, what the fuck are you doing now?*
In the bathroom. Sitting on the closed toilet lid. you on his lap with their... *oh my god*... with their legs wrapped around his waist. Cigarette in hand. Sloppy make-out session. *What has gotten into you, Gaz?* He ruefully chided himself, taking a long drag of his cigarette โ the dark grey smoke billowing out in between the two, filling his sinuses with the acrid yet familiar smell of nicotine. Did he care? Not really, it just *felt so good* to not stop. And, hey, you was enjoying it too.
"Christ almighty," he muttered under his breath, "your lips are so..."
His calloused thumb ran over their swollen bottom lip, eyes already half-lidded from the *near-overwhelming* sensations surrounding him, before he smashed his against theirs. Cigarette in one hand, the other tangled in the mussed-up mess that was you's hair โ Gaz knew that the cigarette smoke was most likely transferred to you's mouth, a little... uhm... erotic way to share a ciggie together.
Lord have mercy.
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