Title: Drunk, Tipsy, and Neither
By: Perpetual Motion
Pairing: Nick/Warrick
Disclaimer: They're Jerry's, and while he hasn't come after any of us yet, he may if we start claiming them. They're all his.
Author's Notes: For Julian Lee, because we started a conversation on what a drunken Gil would do, and the tribbles wondered what Nick and Warrick would be doing. Here you are.
Summary: As Gil goes on about grasshoppers, Warrick just...goes.

It'd taken six beers, three shots, and a whole night of distracting Gil from having to much to eat, but they'd done it. Nick and Warrick had gotten Gil drunk. Victory was theirs.

It seemed, however, that a drunken Gil wouldn't do anything more exciting than a sober one. In fact, a drunken Gil seemed to like to lecture about bugs a lot.

They were now learning all kinds of details about the wheat-eating grasshoppers found in Southwestern Kansas.

And while they were tipsy, they weren't quite tipsy enough to find it interesting, but they couldn't just leave Gil to fend for himself while drunk in a bar in the middle of Vegas, so they settled in for a session of way to much information.

Somewhere in the vicinity of Gil going on about the differences in size of the grasshoppers versus the type of wheat they ate, Warrick felt Nick's hand settle on his thigh just above his knee. He grinned to himself. While a drunken Gil was pretty much the same Gil, a tipsy Nick was much more touchy-feely than he'd otherwise be in public. This could be fun. Nick's fingers started tracing patterns on his leg as his hand slowly moved up. So much fun.

Nick pressed himself a little closer to Warrick and hid a smile. He was supposed to be tipsy, after all, and he didn't really smile when he got tipsy. He very slowly slid his hand up until his thumb was resting comfortably in the crease of Warrick's leg and groin. One more small slide of his fingers, and his hand was cupping Warrick's crotch.

Warrick's whole body jerked when Nick gave him a soft squeeze through the his pants, and he felt his breathing stutter as he looked over at Nick. Nick's eyes were half-closed, his face so close to Warrick's that he could kiss him if he leaned over a couple of inches. "Nick?"

"Yeah?" The word was drawled out, the Southern accent extra-prononuced. Nick was definitely tipsy.

"What are you doing?"

Nick let his fingers do a few gymnastics around Warrick's groin. He slid a finger into the waistband of Warrick's track pants and wiggled it around. ~Trying to make you lose it.~ "Nuthin'." He deliberately cut off the 'g' and slightly mispronounced the 'o'. He knew he drawled when he was drinking. "Just makin' some fun."

Warrick glanced across the table at Gil. Gil was still going on about grasshoppers, but he could stop anytime and get just sober enough to realize what was going on across the table. "Nick."

"Shhh. He'll hear you." Nick slid his whole hand into Warrick's pants and squeezed the warm, firm dick he found. He rotated his wrist and drank in the hiss Warrick gave off.

"Ni-" Warrick cut himself off when he had to bite back a moan. ~Hell, *yes*.~

Nick tightened his grip just enough to cause a little resistence when he started pumping his hand up and down. He rubbed his thumb against the top of Warrick's dick and slid his hand back down to slide below and stroke as much as he could reach beneath Warrick's length.

Warrick's hips bucked up a little, feeling like he was about to sliver into pieces and flutter to the floor. They were in the middle of a fucking *bar*, and Gil was across the table, and he was *still* going on about those damned grasshoppers, and Nick...Nick was doing all his favorite things and doing them in the middle of fucking *everyone*.

Nick leaned even closer to Warrick and whispered roughly in his ear. "I snuck some food every time I went up to get the drinks tonight. I'm sober."

It took a minute for the words to get through Warrick's hazed over mind. Nick. Sober. Nick was sober. Nick was sober getting him off in the middle of a bar. ~Holy *shit*.~ He clenched his hands against the seat of the booth and tried not to make to many desperate, low-throated noises as Nick worked him harder and got him off.

He practically melted back into the seat, knees shaking, hands shaking, lips swollen from where he'd bitten down to keep from making any noises that could be heard above the noise of the bar.

Across the booth, Gil was still going on about grasshoppers.