TW: Drinking, fluff

"I bet it's like, 8 inches." Smith's voice echoed through Trott's empty house. The two of them were acting like a pair of three-year-olds, talking about Ross' dick. And, despite his appearance, Ross thought it was hilarious.

It was September 7th, Ross' birthday, and the three of them were preparing to buy copious amounts of alcohol as none of them had the motivation to leave the house, Ross especially. It was nice to just have a simple day almost completely to himself, not having to worry about work or any deadlines. Lewis, having been in an extremely good mood once, gave them the day off. The words he used were 'You guys need some time to just, like, chill. You work yourself into the ground.' which Ross was both thankful for and confused by. Still, he graciously took the time off.

"Nah, mate." Trott disagreed, voice coming from the kitchen where he was setting up a stack of various brands of beer, "He doesn't brag about it. You know that means it's at least 10." Ross could practically hear the grin in his voice.

"Woah." Smith's eyes widened, finding Ross, "Care to input?" He raised a questioning eyebrow.

Ross chuckled, "I'll keep the size of my penis to myself, thanks anyway." Smith put his hands up in surrender with a hint of a smile on his face, picking his drink off of the table and taking a swig.

"I saw it once. In a public bathroom." Trott walked into the room, making quite the entrance, "You wouldn't believe. Flopped around like a salmon."

Smith choked on his drink in his haste the get out his comment through gritted teeth, "Like a bass caught on a rod!" He made a crude motion with his hands around his crotch area.

The three sat there for a good few minutes, laughs mixing and making the whole room feel lighter.

Maybe, Ross thought, This birthday'll be the first to go right.

====================================================

A good few hours later, the three sat together still, this time with a lot more alcohol in their system. However, Smith was not perched on the edge of his seat as he was before, he was rather on the floor with his legs outstretched with a rather exhausted Trott tucked between them, fallen back against his chest. Ross was decidedly not a part of the action and was laughing his ass off looking at the two from his comfortable seat on Trott's brand new leather couch. With Trott's heavy eyelids falling shut, Smith took it as an opportunity to pretend to jerk him off for Ross' entertainment, and it worked. Unfortunately, he hit Trott's arm with his own and it sent a jolt of energy surging through Trott's body, throwing him into consciousness once more.

"Wa- woah, Smith!" He jumped up surprisingly well for a man of his state. Though, to he fair, they were all pretty wasted, "Before you take advantage of me, I'm going to bed." He clung to anything he could (including the top of the door frame) on his walk to the door. Once there, he span on his heels to face Smith, "You get to share a bed with the birthday boy in the guest room." He mumbled an apology to Ross before making his long, tiresome way up the stairs.

The two out-of-it men sat in silence, not even meeting each other's eyes until Smith made a suggestion, "Maybe we should go up. It's getting pretty late." He motioned to Trott's broken clock that told them it was 5:30 in the afternoon. Despite this, Ross didn't object when his friend walked over to him and pulled him up with his warm hands, gripping onto Ross' just a little too tightly. Half-way up the stairs, the extent of his fatigue hit him hard. Almost passing out, Smith kept him steady until they opened the door to Trott's guest bedroom. Simultaneously, they collapsed on to the mattress beside one another, breathing steady. The two burst out into a fit of giggles when Trott knocked heavily on the wall to their left, shouting something about banging quieter. Their laughs faded and Ross closed his eyes, falling into a much needed slumber.

Ross lay in a state somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness. Meanwhile, Smith lay beside him, observing his face, pondering something in his head. Finally making up his mind, he whispered to Ross.

"Ross? You awake?" He tapped him lightly on the arm, not hard enough to wake him if the answer to his question was yes. Ross peeled his eyes open and blinked hard.

"Mhm?" He hummed, not having enough energy to form a coherent sentence.

Smith lay quiet, debating whether or not he should ask the question he had intended, "Can we-- I can't sleep. Can we... cuddle?" His voice was timid, trying not to frighten Ross away.

Ross froze, considering what he should say. He could scream and shout, cursing Smith out and pretending to not be as gay as he felt in the current moment, or he could roll over onto his side and let the big teddy bear that was his best friend spoon him. The latter won almost instantly.

Silently, he rolled onto his side and wriggled backwards towards Smith. A motionless minute passed and Ross worried he had done something wrong. But his qualms were put to rest when felt a warm (and much bigger than he expected) arm wrap securely around his torso, a smile pressing against his shoulder. Ross smiles too, lost in the drunken moment the two shared. When he came back from his high, a face was in the nook between his shoulder and head. Smith moved it from side to side, pressing his head further into Ross' shoulder, lost in his heady aroma. Something about Ross' scent made him feel safe, and he liked it. He liked it a lot. And so, before he could stop his drunk self, he began pressing sweet, feathery kisses onto Ross' shoulder, subconsciously moving to his neck when Ross let out a content sigh and didn't make to move away. They lay there, Ross in Smith's grip with the lightest but most meaningful kisses being pressed onto his exposed skin as a thrum came from his throat, for an undetermined amount of time before Ross pulled away. Thinking he had made Ross uncomfortable, he released his body and watched the shorter man rise onto his elbows wistfully. As he went to apologize, to tell Ross that he would sleep on the couch and they'd never have to speak about what had happened ever again, Ross rolled around languidly to face him. He settled his hot palms on either side of Smiths face, his orange beard tickling his hands slightly, and smiles. Sincerely, honestly and lovingly smiles, calming him down. Wordlessly, he brings their inches their lips closer together, close enough for him to smell a similar intoxicating smell in Smith's breath that he suspected mirrored his almost exactly, and kissed him gingerly.

It wasn't the longest or most fervour filled kiss Ross had ever experienced, but it didn't have to be. The unspoken words sent between them were enough and it ended unceremoniously with Ross bringing his head down, his forehead resting against Smith's beard. He felt the tight, uncontrollable grin spread across said man's face and he pulled Ross closer, drinking in his heat.

Then again, it wasn't as if Smith should have been drinking any more than he had that night.

Credit to FanficIsLove on Ao3