Rejection

Len had been drinking most of the day.  Actually, he’d been drinking most of the previous day too, stopping only to pass out on the beaten old couch for a few hours before continuing down his self-destructive path of trying to consume all of the alcohol stashed around the Rogues’ current safe house.

“Sh’no fuckin fair.”  The brunette slurred, wobbling slightly from his perch on the arm of the couch; he hadn’t been bothered to make it all the way to the seat, and the arm was closer to the beer anyway.

“What’s not fair?”  Hartley sat himself down on the unoccupied half of the couch, Owen taking up the other half and also nursing a cold beer after having managed to pry it away from Len with the promise of company.

“Some chick Cold had his eye on turned him down rather spectacularly.”  Owen replied, glancing up at the older man as he downed his drink and crushed the can, tossing against the wall as hard as he could, leaving a wet splash mark where it hit.

“So that’s why he’s drinking himself into a stupor and only wearing one boot?”  The Piper asked, shifting a little to get comfortable.  “Makes sense.”  The redhead nodded sagely, earning a cryptic look from Owen.

“S’a lesb’n.”  Captain Cold slurred, twisting on his perch and leaning over to stare at the musician, eyes narrowed.  “Your fault, Piper.  You make everyone gay.”  Captain Boomerang junior couldn’t suppress a giggle at that one, slightly drunk himself, slapping the older man on the back and causing him to slip from the arm and land, rather ungracefully and with a breathy ‘ompf’ in Owen’s lap.

“I don’t make people gay, Len!  They either are or they aren’t.”  Hartley protested in vain, knowing that his argument fell on deaf ears.

“Sh’was th’ love of my life.”  The Captain suddenly howled, sobbing loudly against Owen’s chest, using the younger man’s scarf to blow his nose much to Boomer’s disgust.

“There there...”  Owen replied, patting Len’s back somewhat awkwardly.  “I’m sure she’s not worth it.  You’ll find someone else, someone less...”  He pondered for a moment, hand stilling on the brunette’s back.  “...gay.”  He finally finished.

“Or more gay.”  Cold sat up, tears stopping as he leered at the younger man, a disturbing expression on his face.  “Yer pretty...”  The Captain was suddenly extremely close to Owen, strong hands pinning shoulders in place as the young redhead tried to shrink into the worn fabric beneath him, closely resembling a rabbit trapped in headlights.

"Whoa man! Whoa, dude, okay, there's being emotional and then there's driving straight off the insanity cliff. That's the direction we're heading right now."  Boomer spluttered, moments before he felt a pair of dry, insistent lips against his own.  It took a few moments for it all to sink in, but finally Owen dragged his face away with a protesting squawk.

To Boomer’s surprise and annoyance, when he looked over at Hartley, the musician had one hand tightly clamped over his mouth as he shook with laughter, tears of mirth springing free from his eyes and trickling down his flushed face.  With a growl, the younger Rogue shoved at Len, pushing him off and manoeuvring him over to Piper’s half of the sofa, marginally surprised when the older redhead helped to move the drunken Captain into his own lap.

“You’ll get used to it.”  The Piper laughed, before his mouth was captured in a bruising kiss, which he returned with a well-practiced fervour.  When Len moved his attention down to Hartley’s long, pale neck, the musician turned to Owen again with a slightly apologetic smile, seemingly unaffected by the loud sucking noises that accompanied whatever Cold was doing to the soft skin there.

“W-what the hell?!”  Boomer finally exclaimed, his voice slightly hysterical and eyes still comically wide.

“Len gets like this whenever he gets turned down.  Usually he comes to Mark, Mick or myself for comfort.”  Piper shrugged, wrapping his arms around the brunette in his lap who had started snoring loudly, passed out against the musician’s shoulder.  “I suppose he must like you.  Don’t worry; he won’t remember anything in the morning.”  Hartley added, seeing the shocked and slightly horrified look on the young Rogue’s face.

“I think, next time, I’ll just hide in my room.  With a dresser wedged against the door.  And a shot gun.”  Owen replied, shaking his head and standing.  “Actually, I might leave the country, just to be safe.”  With a nervous giggle he was gone, the telltale sound of a bolt sliding into place echoing down the hallway.  Hartley hoped the boy wasn’t too traumatised by Len’s actions; he hadn’t been completely truthful to the young man.  Tomorrow, Len would remember everything.