Ishida Mitsunari (石田 三成) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
unbending) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paraboxical2012-01-12 12:05 am
unbending) wrote in paraboxical2012-01-12 12:05 am
just a little tipsy;
One thing led to another led to another.
That was probably the best way to put it if anyone were to ask Mitsunari. Of course, it was equally likely that he would not answer that question—or would not be capable of answering it.
He’d never intended on getting drunk, that’s for sure.
He’d known about the office party but had approached it with the same way he approached all frivolous things—with an air of disdain and the very firm resolution to take no part in it. And so he’d treated it like just another day at the office. He hadn’t even bothered to tell Ieyasu about it, as Mitsunari had expected it to be unremarkable in every way.
One thing led to another led to another.
He normally did not engage in such frivolousness—but with some luck and persistence and determination, his co-workers had managed to drag Mitsunari into the festivities instead of allowing him to work all day in peace. Much to his annoyance.
It wasn’t to end there, however.
Further inspection of the cup in his hand had only come after he’d already drank some; he narrowed his eyes at the taste of alcohol but couldn’t exactly find fault with the drink otherwise.
It was hard to notice quite when he’d finished it, or where the second had come from. Perhaps from a co-worker overly excited to see Ishida Mitsunari mingling in some sort of festivity. Perhaps.
Regardless, he was more than a little tipsy when he finally left and arrived home. Much more than a little tipsy, in fact.
Not that anything seemed off to Ieyasu at first as he wandered towards the door to greet his boyfriend, arms out even as Mitsunari tossed his coat aside (tossing it aside instead of hanging it up neatly should have been the first clue, but nobody could truly blame Ieyasu for being slightly distracted at that moment).
For at that moment, Mitsunari stepped forward, right into Ieyasu’s arms, and more or less flopped right over his boyfriend.
Ieyasu froze.
This was not normal behavior.
Normal behavior was receiving a huff and a ducked head but a reluctant, not quite returned hug when Ieyasu came home from work, affection that Ieyasu insisted on but that Mitsunari insisted would not last long.
This was so far from normal that Ieyasu couldn’t help but pause.
(Un?)fortunately, it was not about to get much better.
“Mitsunari…?” he asked, confused, even as he gently hugged his boyfriend back. At his name, Mitsunari pulled back some to properly look Ieyasu in the face, blinking a little blearily.
There was a bit of a breathless pause, though in this pause Ieyasu frowned slightly because was that alcohol he smelled on Mitsunari’s breath—
Not that he got the chance to think much more on that.
Because the the highly drunk Mitsunari merely leaned forward and pressed his lips to Ieyasu’s, with no clear intent to pull back any time soon.
This was so far from normal that Ieyasu’s brain short-circuited; he just stood there, frozen for a moment, as Mitsunari smothered him in affection that he so often had to fight for.
A pause.
Ieyasu’s brain began to work again just as he noted the taste of alcohol as well—even as he failed to fight off a blush at his boyfriend’s actions, he started to get a better understanding of them.
Who had gotten Mitsunari drunk?
But regardless, he was not about to be distracted from the kiss, and…well, it seemed like a shame to let this opportunity pass by. Ieyasu was nothing if not an opportunist. And if Mitsunari was freely giving out affection to his very patient and very longsuffering boyfriend?
It was probably only what he deserved at this point.
So Ieyasu smiled a bit, lifting Mitsunari into his arms—the other man merely wrapped his arms around the back of Ieyasu’s neck to steady himself and lift himself up for another kiss, which was certainly no problem for Ieyasu at all.
He had no idea where the alcohol had come from or who had gotten Mitsunari to drink it; he knew for himself how reluctant Mitsunari generally was to loosen up and take that sort of risk.
But as he settling himself and Mitsunari on the couch, pressing his lips to Mitsunari’s again and getting no argument in return, he was left pondering something else.
Whoever it was—should he punch them for it, or thank them for it?
That was probably the best way to put it if anyone were to ask Mitsunari. Of course, it was equally likely that he would not answer that question—or would not be capable of answering it.
He’d never intended on getting drunk, that’s for sure.
He’d known about the office party but had approached it with the same way he approached all frivolous things—with an air of disdain and the very firm resolution to take no part in it. And so he’d treated it like just another day at the office. He hadn’t even bothered to tell Ieyasu about it, as Mitsunari had expected it to be unremarkable in every way.
One thing led to another led to another.
He normally did not engage in such frivolousness—but with some luck and persistence and determination, his co-workers had managed to drag Mitsunari into the festivities instead of allowing him to work all day in peace. Much to his annoyance.
It wasn’t to end there, however.
Further inspection of the cup in his hand had only come after he’d already drank some; he narrowed his eyes at the taste of alcohol but couldn’t exactly find fault with the drink otherwise.
It was hard to notice quite when he’d finished it, or where the second had come from. Perhaps from a co-worker overly excited to see Ishida Mitsunari mingling in some sort of festivity. Perhaps.
Regardless, he was more than a little tipsy when he finally left and arrived home. Much more than a little tipsy, in fact.
Not that anything seemed off to Ieyasu at first as he wandered towards the door to greet his boyfriend, arms out even as Mitsunari tossed his coat aside (tossing it aside instead of hanging it up neatly should have been the first clue, but nobody could truly blame Ieyasu for being slightly distracted at that moment).
For at that moment, Mitsunari stepped forward, right into Ieyasu’s arms, and more or less flopped right over his boyfriend.
Ieyasu froze.
This was not normal behavior.
Normal behavior was receiving a huff and a ducked head but a reluctant, not quite returned hug when Ieyasu came home from work, affection that Ieyasu insisted on but that Mitsunari insisted would not last long.
This was so far from normal that Ieyasu couldn’t help but pause.
(Un?)fortunately, it was not about to get much better.
“Mitsunari…?” he asked, confused, even as he gently hugged his boyfriend back. At his name, Mitsunari pulled back some to properly look Ieyasu in the face, blinking a little blearily.
There was a bit of a breathless pause, though in this pause Ieyasu frowned slightly because was that alcohol he smelled on Mitsunari’s breath—
Not that he got the chance to think much more on that.
Because the the highly drunk Mitsunari merely leaned forward and pressed his lips to Ieyasu’s, with no clear intent to pull back any time soon.
This was so far from normal that Ieyasu’s brain short-circuited; he just stood there, frozen for a moment, as Mitsunari smothered him in affection that he so often had to fight for.
A pause.
Ieyasu’s brain began to work again just as he noted the taste of alcohol as well—even as he failed to fight off a blush at his boyfriend’s actions, he started to get a better understanding of them.
Who had gotten Mitsunari drunk?
But regardless, he was not about to be distracted from the kiss, and…well, it seemed like a shame to let this opportunity pass by. Ieyasu was nothing if not an opportunist. And if Mitsunari was freely giving out affection to his very patient and very longsuffering boyfriend?
It was probably only what he deserved at this point.
So Ieyasu smiled a bit, lifting Mitsunari into his arms—the other man merely wrapped his arms around the back of Ieyasu’s neck to steady himself and lift himself up for another kiss, which was certainly no problem for Ieyasu at all.
He had no idea where the alcohol had come from or who had gotten Mitsunari to drink it; he knew for himself how reluctant Mitsunari generally was to loosen up and take that sort of risk.
But as he settling himself and Mitsunari on the couch, pressing his lips to Mitsunari’s again and getting no argument in return, he was left pondering something else.
Whoever it was—should he punch them for it, or thank them for it?