Page 163 of Oleander

Bast and Emmy had tickets for some adult comedy show across the river, so as they got ready to leave I called Ken with the location and asked him to send a car for us.

I wasn’t sober, but I wasn’t even close to the sort of drunk I’d get on a usual night out with Bast at Oxford. I could tell Caspien didn’t like Bast. He barely cracked a smile at his stupid jokes, let alone laugh at them, and he’d answer his questions with as few words as possible. I put it down to a personality clash; Bast was loud and rambunctious where Cas was reserved and cool.

The more he drank, the more his mood darkened, turning morose and a little detached, compared to how he’d been the last few days when it had just been the two of us anyway. But since I’d never really spent a lot of time with Cas around other people – Gideon and Luke aside – or ever seen him drunk, I put it down to the social situation.

“You want to wait outside for it?” I asked.

The sun hadn’t set, and there was a shaft of bright sunlight on us, so he still wore his sunglasses. If I’d been able to see his eyes, I’d probably have noticed just how drunk he was, but because I couldn’t, it was only when he stood that it became obvious. He reeled backwards into me so that I had to steady him with my body and arms. He sat back down.

“I think I might be drunk,” he said, sounding as sober as a judge.

“Oh, thank fuck for that,” I said. “If you’d drunk that much gin and were still sober, I’d have doubted your physiology.”

“Help me, will you?” he said and stood again.

I slid an arm around him and guided him through the maze of bodies, holding him a little tighter as we descended the short flight of steps. His body was loose-limbed and warm and I tried not to focus on the feel of him this close again, of the weight of him, or how he needed me in this moment, even if it was only to hold him up.

Outside, the streets were busy, and so I led him to the wall of the bar and sort of propped him against it before moving to stand next to him. When I felt his head loll onto my shoulder, I tried to pretend it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Your friend is a bit of a wanker,” he remarked.

“Is he? Most people like him.”

“Most people are idiots.”

I chuckled. “He’s a good guy, just a little excitable around new people. Like a Labrador puppy.”

“He’s a chauvinist.”

“Christ, okay,” I frowned at him. “Gin makes you cranky. Noted.”

“He spoke over his girlfriend at every opportunity, used sexist language at least twice, and thinks far too much of himself.”

“No one’s perfect.”

“You are.”

I looked down to check the sarcastic smirk on his face, but it wasn’t there. His mouth was a straight line, but since his eyes were still hidden behind his sunglasses, I assumed he was smirking with them.

I laughed and said something like, “Ha, okay, no more alcohol for you.”

He muttered something I couldn’t make out, and then I was certain I heard him snore.

So Cas was a sleepy drunk. I’m not sure it’s what I expected; I’d always imagined him turning more deadly and poisonous than usual.

The car arrived a short while later, and I had to guide him over to it with my hand around his lower back before helping him up into the back of the black Range Rover. He slid across the seat and slumped against the window. I reached over to snap his seatbelt into place before sitting down and doing my own.

When we arrived at Gideon’s, I had to shake him gently awake, which caused him to startle so violently it was as though I’d given him an electric shock.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I soothed. “We’re home.”

He snapped off his glasses and for the first time I saw the red, glassiness of his eyes. There was something like wariness in his eye as he looked at me.

“Okay,” he said and nodded once before letting me help him out of the car. He seemed to momentarily sober as we climbed the steps, but as soon as we were through the door, he fell into the side table.

“Let’s get you to bed,” I said, taking hold of him again to lead him down the corridor toward his room. It was larger than the one I was using, and at the front of the house overlooking the leafy street, navy and golds and greens, which felt like him.

After sitting him down on the bed, I closed the curtains, casting the room into half-darkness. I turned on the bedside lamp on the far side of the bed and then moved to switch on the one next to where he was sitting.