And with each mile
Nov. 21st, 2012 05:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
teamzaylorCHAPTER 12: STARES
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Zaylor / Hancest
Pairing: Zac & Taylor
Credits & many Thanks to: Honor @beyondthethorns
About the story: Zac & Taylor's relationship broke up when they got caught kissing by the press and their career were over in a split of a second. To continue a normal life and to take a break from his brother, Taylor starts to study at a College in London but the long distance between them can't stop their feelings for each other.
I never knew it until we hit the bars that night, but there are three stages of Zachary Hanson's drunkenness.
Stage One: Zac only has a few drinks- around five, give or take a few. This is his best stage. He is funny, relaxed, and social. He even manages to make jovial conversation with strangers- only mildly insulting them as he talks. He dances a little bit, grins like a maniac, and explains that he feels "a little bit tipsy". This is my favorite stage.
Stage Two: Zachary Hanson becomes extremely horny. In order for Zac to hit stage two, he has to have about seven or eight drinks. He usually accomplishes this by starting off with mixed drinks, he explained to me, and then moving on to shots. He doesn’t care about what kind of shots. "Drinking to get drunk is not about taste," Zachary giggles as he’s well on his way to stage two. After a little while he proceeds to grope me in public and stumble over me as he tries to make out with my ear. While it’s not a huge turn on, it’s more than a little bit amusing. Zachary suggests we lock ourselves in a grimy, London bathroom. I listen to my head and not my dick. On second thought, perhaps this is my favorite stage.
Stage Three: Anyone who openly allows my scrawny brother to consume more than ten drinks in a short amount of time needs to be institutionalized. Zac only drinks beer when he’s wasted, so I should have known to stop him when he ordered two bottles of Double Diamond… for himself. You know Zachary is in his final stage of drunkenness when he gets really mean to everyone around him… except for me, of course. He starts throwing insults left and right and walks around the bar threatening to punch guys twice his size. Pissing himself, vomiting, and passing out all qualify as stage three behavior. When Zac starts denying being drunk at all, you know he is completely plastered.
"Don’t listen to him," I told the bartender behind the counter as Zac tried to stand up straight and order his 13th drink of the night. I turned to him to find he was frowning at me.
"Zac, I believe you’re done."
He rolled his eyes. "I can hold my liquor, Tay," he said, grasping onto the counter for balance. "You hardly ever drink with me so you don’t even know. In fact, you could use another beer yourself. Give us two Double Ds! One for my uptight brother!"
"Zac, I’ve drank like four drinks already tonight. That’s more than I usually drink," I argued with him and then turned back to the confused, overweight bartender. "Trust me, we’re all set."
Zachary slammed his fist down on the counter and then fumbled through his wallet.
"All set?! If I can walk home, then I’m too sober! Do what I said, Chubs, and get me two beers," Zac waved a fifty dollar bill in front of the bartenders face.
Well, nothing I said could compete with Zac’s reckless approach towards wasting his money. I sighed and accepted the cold beer from the bartender as Zac tossed him the money. I watched nervously as he consumed half the bottle in one sip. When he pulled the bottle away from his lips, he exhaled a satisfied sigh.
"I think I like English beer," he concluded as if it was his first Double Diamond of the night.
"I can tell," I snorted and took a sip of my own beer, trying to loosen up. If Zachary wanted to make a fool out of himself, what was I supposed to do about it? Zac does what he wants to do, and once he’s made up his mind about something there’s no talking him out of it. Just as I was actually beginning to relax and bop my head along to the music, a guy sat down next to me to order a drink.
I couldn’t help but notice the way he looked at me over and slid closer to me. He almost looked more gay than Carter. While Zac and I weren’t at a gay bar persay, it was definitely known to be one of the more ‘liberal’ bars in the area.
I shifted awkwardly in my chair. "Why are you sitting so close to me?"
"Why, do you have a problem with it?" the guy seemed to attempt a sexy smile.
He clearly did not see Zac standing there next to me and had probably assumed that I was alone. "You’re almost done with that. Let me buy you another."
"No thanks," I tried to be politely but firmly.
Zac must have caught my gaze on the flamer next to me, cause he turned and looked him over when the guy didn't show the slightest inclination to stir from the spot.
"Hey he don't want your drinks!" he said bluntly.
I winced, pleading with him in my mind to just stop talking.
The guy seemed taken back by Zac’s honesty. "What?"
"He don’t want your drinks," Zac repeated and then waved his beer bottle at the guy next to me, splashing some out onto the other guy’s red, leather pants.
"What the fuck?" the guy squealed.
My younger brother just giggled.
"You just spilled that all over my pants!"
Zachary giggled some more and then managed to mutter over a guffaw, "Good, I’m doing you a favor. They’re ugly as shit anyway. Everyone around you knows they’re pleather."
"They’re not pleather!"
Zac cackled and took a swig of his beer. "Dude, they’re pleather. If you’re going to wear pleather, at least don’t wearred pleather. You look like trash… a piece of trash."
"Whatever dude…" the guy lisped.
"A PIECE OF CHEAP EURO-TRASH!" he announced.
"You Americans are assholes…" the guy muttered and wiped at his pants as he began to stumble away.
"And you Europeans are trash!"
I cringed as half of the bar turned and looked at him. He did not just scream that in the middle of London, did he? Although I would like to say I stepped closer to him to protect him from the impending attack against him, I actually moved back a bit. I didn’t want to be associated with the arrogant American at my side.
"You can shut your mouth!" a sassy looking girl yelled at him from the edge of the dance floor.
"Oh yeah?" Zachary laughed and stood up from the bar stool. "I’ll shut my mouth when you shut your legs," he wiggled his eyes at the men she just finshed dancing with, one of them still grinding himself into her ass. My brother always has to take everything to the next level so of course he had to add a confident, "Skank," to his comment.
As Zac stood there smirking to himself, the men at the "skank’s" side let go of her and approached him.
"Do you have a fucking problem?" the guy who had just been having clothed, anal sex in the center of the dance floor said, breathing down Zachary’s neck. Zac fearlessy sat there smirking, the alcohol making him more confident than he probably should have been.
"Yeah," Zac looked him straight in the eyes. "That walking STD you were just humping can mind her own goddamn business."
"Stand up, you scrawny hippie!" the guy spat back at him.
Zachary stood proudly.
Although I should have let Zac fight his own battles, because after all, the only reason he got himself into such predicaments was because of his big mouth, but I couldn’t stand there and watch him get beaten to death by guys who were clearly much stronger than him.
"He’s really fucking drunk," I stepped closer to Zac and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him away from them. "He doesn’t know what he’s saying. We’re leaving, okay?"
Surprisingly Zac didn’t push me away from him. He held onto my arm protectively and stayed quiet for one of the first times in his life. The two guys stood there debating the situation.
"Sorry about this," I muttered and began to drag Zac towards the door.
"How charming," one of the guys rolled his eyes. "Gay lover's princess bails him out of the mess he got himself into."
While I don’t find Zac and myself to be very obvious gays, I guess it was apparent enough by the way Zac clung to my arm and rested his head against me as I pulled him through the bar. Perhaps they’d even seen this sloppy attempt at kissing me earlier- when his lips landed on my ear. I tried to keep walking when they said this, but Zachary whipped around and looked at them.
"Princess is more of a man than either of you," he called back to them. "Does it get much more pathetic than sharing a woman?"
One of them advanced on us and I began to pull Zachary towards the door with renewed vigor. All I wanted was to get out of the bar and shut Zac up.
"I may not like pussy!" Zachary shouted back at them, completely ignoring the signs that they were about to demolish us. "But if I did I wouldn’t have to share one! Especially one with a yeast infection from fucking too many low lifes like both of you!"
Zachary had just screamed yeast infection in the middle of the bar. Oh god. I don't know if it made me embarassed or love him more for his crazy stupidity.
Since Zac spent most of his partying days in Los Angeles while I was at home finishing off my boring high-school-diploma, I was not aware of how he had a tendency to insult people’s sexual promiscuousness when he was pissed. It occurred to me that Zac insulted qualities in other people that he hated about himself.
Just as the approaching guy was about to send his fist flying into Zac’s jaw, he was grabbed by a bouncer. Surprisingly, the brawny bouncer held him in his grip but turned to Zac first.
"Get the hell out of here, do you hear me? We don’t need that kind of rubbish here."
Zachary looked like he was about to protest, but I slapped my hand over his mouth and dragged him towards the door, kicking it open when we got to it. A few more steps and we were outside.
"And we don’t need people throwing fists either," the bouncer said to the guy he was restraining as I pulled Zac through the doorway. "Walk away and leave him alone. He’s leaving."
Zac shoved my hand away from his mouth and screamed back into the bar, just as the door was about to swing closed. "Yeah! Leave me alone, eh!? I’m contracting chlamydia just looking at you!"
I slammed the door to the bar and threw us against the brick building, sighing in relief.
"You’re crazy," I said for the second time that day, only more accepting of it this time. He knew he was crazy, I knew he was crazy, and it didn’t seem like anything was going to change about that.
Zachary draped an arm around me although I couldn’t decide if it was because he was feeling especially affectionate or if he just could hardly stand up straight on his own.
I looked at him and noticed that since we had left the bar, he had allowed himself to look worried and shaken up about the events inside. He almost looked just as confused by his actions I did. For some reason I couldn’t help but release a quiet laugh. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
Zachary rested his head against my shoulder and sighed, "English beer is a lot better than American beer."
I laughed as we began to walk back to his hotel. The walk should have only taken a fifteen minutes or so, but we had to keep stopping because Zac kept insisting he was going to throw up. He never did, thankfully. When we were moving, he was leaning on me and stumbling and so it took us over half an hour to reach his small hotel. I had hoped the fresh air might sober him up a bit, but he seemed just as drunk as he had at the bar as he struggled to walk up the steps to the lobby.
"You are so wasted," I laughed as I pulled him over to the elevator.
"You are so wasted," he laughed. "I’m hardly drunk."
"Uh huh," I humored him and pushed him into the elevator. He clutched onto the wall as I put the button to the second floor. When I turned back to look at him, my younger brother was sitting on the floor, his legs sprawled out in front of him.
"Zac," I laughed and tried to yank him up but his limp body felt too heavy. "Remind me to never let you drink that much again…" I muttered although I knew I couldn’t really control what he consumed. If I had really asked him not to drink, he wouldn’t have. He would usually do anything for me. But I never had the courage to look him in the eye and tell him I was serious. I guess I kind of found his drunk state a bit endearing too and when he wasn’t being threatened by pissed off Europeans- even sort of funny.
When the elevator door open, a husband and wife stood there waiting to get on.
"Sorry," I said immediately, glancing at them apologetically before using all my strength to pry Zachary from the ground. "Zac, hold onto me and help out me here. People are waiting to get on."
He looked at them through strands of long ruffled blond hair in front of his face and then tried to steady his feet. They gave us disapproving looks as I pulled him out of the elevator. As if they hadn’t been plastered before too… When we reached Zac’s room I waited for him to get out the key, but he didn’t.
"Zac… key."
"Mmm?"
"The key. To the room. Do you have it?"
He mumbled an incoherent sentence as he began to fall asleep against the door. The only word I understood was "pocket" so despite my nerves, I hesitantly patted his pockets to find the key. His front pocket jingled and I debated for a second about what to do. Was it okay to reach into his pocket? Seeing as Zachary was not going to be helpful about the situation, I took a breath and reached into his pocket, my fingers wiggling dangerously close to his dick. When I felt the silver key ring, I yanked the keys out, unlocked the door, and pushed it open- completely forgetting that Zachary was leaning against it. He went flying forward and fell face-first on the ground.
"Shit!" I gasped and tried to drag him up again.
To my surprise, he laughed as he stumbled to his feet. In a slurred voice he said, "Thanks a lot, princess. When I forget to remind you not to let me drink this much, remind me that you’re going to let me fall down over and over again when I’m drunk off my ass."
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Zaylor / Hancest
Pairing: Zac & Taylor
Credits & many Thanks to: Honor @beyondthethorns
About the story: Zac & Taylor's relationship broke up when they got caught kissing by the press and their career were over in a split of a second. To continue a normal life and to take a break from his brother, Taylor starts to study at a College in London but the long distance between them can't stop their feelings for each other.
I never knew it until we hit the bars that night, but there are three stages of Zachary Hanson's drunkenness.
Stage One: Zac only has a few drinks- around five, give or take a few. This is his best stage. He is funny, relaxed, and social. He even manages to make jovial conversation with strangers- only mildly insulting them as he talks. He dances a little bit, grins like a maniac, and explains that he feels "a little bit tipsy". This is my favorite stage.
Stage Two: Zachary Hanson becomes extremely horny. In order for Zac to hit stage two, he has to have about seven or eight drinks. He usually accomplishes this by starting off with mixed drinks, he explained to me, and then moving on to shots. He doesn’t care about what kind of shots. "Drinking to get drunk is not about taste," Zachary giggles as he’s well on his way to stage two. After a little while he proceeds to grope me in public and stumble over me as he tries to make out with my ear. While it’s not a huge turn on, it’s more than a little bit amusing. Zachary suggests we lock ourselves in a grimy, London bathroom. I listen to my head and not my dick. On second thought, perhaps this is my favorite stage.
Stage Three: Anyone who openly allows my scrawny brother to consume more than ten drinks in a short amount of time needs to be institutionalized. Zac only drinks beer when he’s wasted, so I should have known to stop him when he ordered two bottles of Double Diamond… for himself. You know Zachary is in his final stage of drunkenness when he gets really mean to everyone around him… except for me, of course. He starts throwing insults left and right and walks around the bar threatening to punch guys twice his size. Pissing himself, vomiting, and passing out all qualify as stage three behavior. When Zac starts denying being drunk at all, you know he is completely plastered.
"Don’t listen to him," I told the bartender behind the counter as Zac tried to stand up straight and order his 13th drink of the night. I turned to him to find he was frowning at me.
"Zac, I believe you’re done."
He rolled his eyes. "I can hold my liquor, Tay," he said, grasping onto the counter for balance. "You hardly ever drink with me so you don’t even know. In fact, you could use another beer yourself. Give us two Double Ds! One for my uptight brother!"
"Zac, I’ve drank like four drinks already tonight. That’s more than I usually drink," I argued with him and then turned back to the confused, overweight bartender. "Trust me, we’re all set."
Zachary slammed his fist down on the counter and then fumbled through his wallet.
"All set?! If I can walk home, then I’m too sober! Do what I said, Chubs, and get me two beers," Zac waved a fifty dollar bill in front of the bartenders face.
Well, nothing I said could compete with Zac’s reckless approach towards wasting his money. I sighed and accepted the cold beer from the bartender as Zac tossed him the money. I watched nervously as he consumed half the bottle in one sip. When he pulled the bottle away from his lips, he exhaled a satisfied sigh.
"I think I like English beer," he concluded as if it was his first Double Diamond of the night.
"I can tell," I snorted and took a sip of my own beer, trying to loosen up. If Zachary wanted to make a fool out of himself, what was I supposed to do about it? Zac does what he wants to do, and once he’s made up his mind about something there’s no talking him out of it. Just as I was actually beginning to relax and bop my head along to the music, a guy sat down next to me to order a drink.
I couldn’t help but notice the way he looked at me over and slid closer to me. He almost looked more gay than Carter. While Zac and I weren’t at a gay bar persay, it was definitely known to be one of the more ‘liberal’ bars in the area.
I shifted awkwardly in my chair. "Why are you sitting so close to me?"
"Why, do you have a problem with it?" the guy seemed to attempt a sexy smile.
He clearly did not see Zac standing there next to me and had probably assumed that I was alone. "You’re almost done with that. Let me buy you another."
"No thanks," I tried to be politely but firmly.
Zac must have caught my gaze on the flamer next to me, cause he turned and looked him over when the guy didn't show the slightest inclination to stir from the spot.
"Hey he don't want your drinks!" he said bluntly.
I winced, pleading with him in my mind to just stop talking.
The guy seemed taken back by Zac’s honesty. "What?"
"He don’t want your drinks," Zac repeated and then waved his beer bottle at the guy next to me, splashing some out onto the other guy’s red, leather pants.
"What the fuck?" the guy squealed.
My younger brother just giggled.
"You just spilled that all over my pants!"
Zachary giggled some more and then managed to mutter over a guffaw, "Good, I’m doing you a favor. They’re ugly as shit anyway. Everyone around you knows they’re pleather."
"They’re not pleather!"
Zac cackled and took a swig of his beer. "Dude, they’re pleather. If you’re going to wear pleather, at least don’t wearred pleather. You look like trash… a piece of trash."
"Whatever dude…" the guy lisped.
"A PIECE OF CHEAP EURO-TRASH!" he announced.
"You Americans are assholes…" the guy muttered and wiped at his pants as he began to stumble away.
"And you Europeans are trash!"
I cringed as half of the bar turned and looked at him. He did not just scream that in the middle of London, did he? Although I would like to say I stepped closer to him to protect him from the impending attack against him, I actually moved back a bit. I didn’t want to be associated with the arrogant American at my side.
"You can shut your mouth!" a sassy looking girl yelled at him from the edge of the dance floor.
"Oh yeah?" Zachary laughed and stood up from the bar stool. "I’ll shut my mouth when you shut your legs," he wiggled his eyes at the men she just finshed dancing with, one of them still grinding himself into her ass. My brother always has to take everything to the next level so of course he had to add a confident, "Skank," to his comment.
As Zac stood there smirking to himself, the men at the "skank’s" side let go of her and approached him.
"Do you have a fucking problem?" the guy who had just been having clothed, anal sex in the center of the dance floor said, breathing down Zachary’s neck. Zac fearlessy sat there smirking, the alcohol making him more confident than he probably should have been.
"Yeah," Zac looked him straight in the eyes. "That walking STD you were just humping can mind her own goddamn business."
"Stand up, you scrawny hippie!" the guy spat back at him.
Zachary stood proudly.
Although I should have let Zac fight his own battles, because after all, the only reason he got himself into such predicaments was because of his big mouth, but I couldn’t stand there and watch him get beaten to death by guys who were clearly much stronger than him.
"He’s really fucking drunk," I stepped closer to Zac and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him away from them. "He doesn’t know what he’s saying. We’re leaving, okay?"
Surprisingly Zac didn’t push me away from him. He held onto my arm protectively and stayed quiet for one of the first times in his life. The two guys stood there debating the situation.
"Sorry about this," I muttered and began to drag Zac towards the door.
"How charming," one of the guys rolled his eyes. "Gay lover's princess bails him out of the mess he got himself into."
While I don’t find Zac and myself to be very obvious gays, I guess it was apparent enough by the way Zac clung to my arm and rested his head against me as I pulled him through the bar. Perhaps they’d even seen this sloppy attempt at kissing me earlier- when his lips landed on my ear. I tried to keep walking when they said this, but Zachary whipped around and looked at them.
"Princess is more of a man than either of you," he called back to them. "Does it get much more pathetic than sharing a woman?"
One of them advanced on us and I began to pull Zachary towards the door with renewed vigor. All I wanted was to get out of the bar and shut Zac up.
"I may not like pussy!" Zachary shouted back at them, completely ignoring the signs that they were about to demolish us. "But if I did I wouldn’t have to share one! Especially one with a yeast infection from fucking too many low lifes like both of you!"
Zachary had just screamed yeast infection in the middle of the bar. Oh god. I don't know if it made me embarassed or love him more for his crazy stupidity.
Since Zac spent most of his partying days in Los Angeles while I was at home finishing off my boring high-school-diploma, I was not aware of how he had a tendency to insult people’s sexual promiscuousness when he was pissed. It occurred to me that Zac insulted qualities in other people that he hated about himself.
Just as the approaching guy was about to send his fist flying into Zac’s jaw, he was grabbed by a bouncer. Surprisingly, the brawny bouncer held him in his grip but turned to Zac first.
"Get the hell out of here, do you hear me? We don’t need that kind of rubbish here."
Zachary looked like he was about to protest, but I slapped my hand over his mouth and dragged him towards the door, kicking it open when we got to it. A few more steps and we were outside.
"And we don’t need people throwing fists either," the bouncer said to the guy he was restraining as I pulled Zac through the doorway. "Walk away and leave him alone. He’s leaving."
Zac shoved my hand away from his mouth and screamed back into the bar, just as the door was about to swing closed. "Yeah! Leave me alone, eh!? I’m contracting chlamydia just looking at you!"
I slammed the door to the bar and threw us against the brick building, sighing in relief.
"You’re crazy," I said for the second time that day, only more accepting of it this time. He knew he was crazy, I knew he was crazy, and it didn’t seem like anything was going to change about that.
Zachary draped an arm around me although I couldn’t decide if it was because he was feeling especially affectionate or if he just could hardly stand up straight on his own.
I looked at him and noticed that since we had left the bar, he had allowed himself to look worried and shaken up about the events inside. He almost looked just as confused by his actions I did. For some reason I couldn’t help but release a quiet laugh. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
Zachary rested his head against my shoulder and sighed, "English beer is a lot better than American beer."
I laughed as we began to walk back to his hotel. The walk should have only taken a fifteen minutes or so, but we had to keep stopping because Zac kept insisting he was going to throw up. He never did, thankfully. When we were moving, he was leaning on me and stumbling and so it took us over half an hour to reach his small hotel. I had hoped the fresh air might sober him up a bit, but he seemed just as drunk as he had at the bar as he struggled to walk up the steps to the lobby.
"You are so wasted," I laughed as I pulled him over to the elevator.
"You are so wasted," he laughed. "I’m hardly drunk."
"Uh huh," I humored him and pushed him into the elevator. He clutched onto the wall as I put the button to the second floor. When I turned back to look at him, my younger brother was sitting on the floor, his legs sprawled out in front of him.
"Zac," I laughed and tried to yank him up but his limp body felt too heavy. "Remind me to never let you drink that much again…" I muttered although I knew I couldn’t really control what he consumed. If I had really asked him not to drink, he wouldn’t have. He would usually do anything for me. But I never had the courage to look him in the eye and tell him I was serious. I guess I kind of found his drunk state a bit endearing too and when he wasn’t being threatened by pissed off Europeans- even sort of funny.
When the elevator door open, a husband and wife stood there waiting to get on.
"Sorry," I said immediately, glancing at them apologetically before using all my strength to pry Zachary from the ground. "Zac, hold onto me and help out me here. People are waiting to get on."
He looked at them through strands of long ruffled blond hair in front of his face and then tried to steady his feet. They gave us disapproving looks as I pulled him out of the elevator. As if they hadn’t been plastered before too… When we reached Zac’s room I waited for him to get out the key, but he didn’t.
"Zac… key."
"Mmm?"
"The key. To the room. Do you have it?"
He mumbled an incoherent sentence as he began to fall asleep against the door. The only word I understood was "pocket" so despite my nerves, I hesitantly patted his pockets to find the key. His front pocket jingled and I debated for a second about what to do. Was it okay to reach into his pocket? Seeing as Zachary was not going to be helpful about the situation, I took a breath and reached into his pocket, my fingers wiggling dangerously close to his dick. When I felt the silver key ring, I yanked the keys out, unlocked the door, and pushed it open- completely forgetting that Zachary was leaning against it. He went flying forward and fell face-first on the ground.
"Shit!" I gasped and tried to drag him up again.
To my surprise, he laughed as he stumbled to his feet. In a slurred voice he said, "Thanks a lot, princess. When I forget to remind you not to let me drink this much, remind me that you’re going to let me fall down over and over again when I’m drunk off my ass."
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Date: 2012-11-21 08:19 pm (UTC)@iwontbeafool & zacgirl1: Glad you're entertained!! :-D will update the next Chapter very soon! :-)
@malfunkshon: that's right, I'm wondering about that too. Do you know if they control I.D. at bars in London?