Alcohol by Ashura [Reviews - 0]
The air is too cold and Will's jumper itches. Bran sags against him, they stagger together in no kind of rhythm because they are quite drunk and it is raining.
'You,' Bran slurs, 'are a bad influence on me, bach, so you are.'
'Ha.' Will pulls away a little, but Bran's clinging too tight. 'I thought this was your idea.'
'Ah.' Bran's golden eyes narrow as if he's just moments from revelation. 'But I would not have suggested, if it were not for you.'
Will asks, 'Why?'
'Because,' says Bran firmly, and kisses him, and tastes like rum and cherries.
[end]
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