We can call it a mistake when it's already done » [cake/cashton]

we can call it a mistake once it's already done

"Shots?" Luke asked as he picked up a tequila bottle; it had by far the most in it. He was smirking as his eyes flicked from the bottle to Calum.

He'd been resolute in his one more drink; there'd be a sipping drink after this shot. But he nodded; it was hard to say no to Luke. The older man smiled softly, and Calum felt he'd made the right choice; he grabbed four cups from what appeared to be a clean pile. Splitting what was left of the tequila between two, then reached for a bottle of whiskey that was in a similar state and did the same thing. Then, reaching for a room-temperature bottle of ginger ale and pouring it in on top of the whiskey, he paused in a way that made Calum realise he was looking for something. And the younger man moved to the freezer and pulled a handful of ice cubes out, dropping them into the drinks.

"Always one step ahead of me," Luke remarked; the way he said it made Calum's thoughts jump back to the way he'd let himself draw close, too close to Luke. Maybe he hadn't started this; they had started this.

He handed Calum one of the cups with tequila, and they tapped the paper cups together, then down they went. Since he'd started hanging out with them, Calum had gotten better at this. It burned, but his face remained impassive as he swallowed the feeling, and then Luke handed him the other cup. And he placed it inside the empty one; no need to add to the mess on the counters.

Luke leaned back against the smallest clear part of the counter, sipping his own drink. He licked his lip; he did that more often than Calum had realised, "what's the verdict on my whiskey and dry?" He asked, looking at him from hooded eyes.

Calum drew nearer, "it's good, a bit strong," he told him, settling in front of Luke, wondering if Luke would be one step ahead of him this time.

He sipped again, lips licking the whiskey flavour from his lips, then they broke into a smile, and Calum looked up to see Luke already looking at him. They weren't yet past the stage of plausible deniability, but they were getting close. Calum shifted forward, letting a hand press into Luke's hip, sipping from his cup as casually as he could. This was friendly.

"I'm heading home!" A voice called from outside, possibly from the front door itself.

Luke and Calum didn't startle, "Get home safe!" Calum called back, not even sure who it was; eyes fixed on Luke, who took another long drink.

He bent his neck slightly, so he could talk next to Calum's ear, "are we playing chicken, Calum?" He asked low and soft, placing his cup on the counter.

Calum let out an exhale of a laugh, "if we are," he started quiet and playful, "I don't intend to lose," as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Luke's now free hand snaked around Calum's waist, and his eyes held a challenge.

The younger man took one last long drink and then abandoned his cup as Luke had, he'd had to lean right over Luke's shoulder to place it there, and the other man had only responded by tightening his arm; Calum couldn't retreat to where he'd started. He found he didn't mind, their faces forced together, eyeing one another as they weighed up the choice before them. Chicken was a reciprocating game, so he leaned in slow and tasing and pressed a kiss into the corner of Luke's mouth; as he made to pull back, Luke captured his lips in a kiss.

He kissed back, tongue pressing into his mouth; if they were doing this, they were doing it properly. Hand reaching to the back of Luke's neck, wanting him closer, tempted to groan as he realised they would have to move if he wanted to convince the older man to take his clothes off. And he wanted that; the first kiss has sealed Calum's fate; he wasn't playing at cheating on his boyfriend, helping his best friend cheat on his other best friend; he was doing it. They could pull away now, and they could downplay it, say it was platonic, tongueless, and they were drunk. But he wanted to take it further; he didn't want it to be an indiscretion.