Big Book Of Smornby One Shots

Your Place, or Mine? (S)

TW: Yogstreams, Alcohol Mention, Drinking, Drunk Characters

He wasn't sure why he'd decided to stay late in the office, but he was starting to finally regret his decision as he cut ten seconds of unnecessary film from their latest bulk recording. He'd always found editing enjoyable, that was the reason he had decided to study a course that entailed a lotof editing at university, but that had been a more reasonable decision on his part, and not one made out of sheer boredom. He would much rather hang around in the office he shared with his two best friends, than go home to his empty, silent flat, which he did not share with his friends; at least, not anymore. It was too quiet in his flat, too lonely, lacking the usual noise and excitement and life that his two friends had once brought to the flat. He furrowed his brows as he edited in the correct picture in the corner of the video, the smudgy image of a man wearing a ridiculously curly wig and headband that would tell their viewers that they were watching Smith's point of view.

His phone buzzed on the table, just shy of his hand, and he glanced towards it, seeing the screen was lit up. Somebody was trying to call him, and upon closer inspection, he recognised Smith's caller ID on the screen. Why would his friend be calling him? He knew he was in the office, and generally hesitated to bother him when he was busy. They were so behind on editing, and with the December livestreams in full swing, he couldn't afford to let his work load build up any higher on the proverbial desk.

He swiped up his phone and answered the call with one hand as he continued to edit with the other, tucking the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he spoke into the receiver.

"Smith, mate, what's up? I'm still in the office." He frowned, dragging in the correct portion of Trott's gameplay recording into the edit. He would have to worry about matching up audio later.

"Are...are you busy?" Smith sounded hesitant, and when he listened really closely, Ross detected a slur in his voice, and the sound of loud voices in the background. He had a feeling that Smith had gone off to another bar, having had nothing much else to do. Ross pulled a face. Maybe the guy could try taking a turn of editing for once! He resisted the urge to bite Smith's ear off about pulling his weight where it was needed, and instead found himself sighing.

"Kind of? Trying to get some of this editing finished off. Mate, are you all right?" Smith sounded off. His voice was quieter than it usually was, which was especially odd considering his voice was slurred as though he'd been drinking, and alcohol generally made the man much louder. He could just imagine being face-to-face with the taller man, and grimaced at the thought of the smell of whiskey on his breath, his dark blue eyes hooded and his cheeks flushed red, as they always were when he'd drunk more than a little too much. He wondered if Trott was with him, and if, in that case, he would be okay. Considering he was calling Ross, of all people, for a conversation, the seated man assumed that Trott was not with Smith.

"Yeah, man, I'm... I'm fine. Just, I don't know. I was wondering if I could ask you a favour." Ross could just imagine his friend frowning, maybe rubbing a hand across his unshaven jaw as he spoke, a picture of concern. Was he okay?

"This isn't some sort of booty call is it, mate?" Ross grinned. "Dirty bugger!"

"What? No, no..." Ross half-expected Smith to snap back with some humorous, quick-paced and rather salty response, as always, but instead, he just sighed. God, was something actually wrong? "I was just wondering, I don't know. It's a bit weird here, and I don't have enough money to get home. Could you come get me?" A bit weird? Where exactly was he?

"Uh, sure. I mean, right now? Did something happen? Where are you?" He slumped his shoulders in defeat as he took the phone back in his hand, saving what little he'd managed to edit from their latest recording and closing the video editor with a sigh. He would have been pissed, if only Smith didn't sound so unlike himself.