There's an old adage just about everyone knows. Careful what you ask for, just might get it, all that jazz. It's something John was usually very careful to observe in his day to day life. It was something that escaped him after a few drinks.

Gideon reminded him with all the subtlety of a bat to the head exactly why that adage was so popular. From the moment Gideon began to lean in John knew somewhere in his stomach he'd made a mistake -- or at least waded into deeper waters than he intended. He wasn't expecting the other man to play along so well. Then he felt the warmth of skin on skin, and there were butterflies, and then a voice too close.

Warm. Textured. Directly in his ear. It was almost sobering. His stomach flipped and a blush that was more than just liquor heat raced down across his shoulders and up over his face.

"Wow," he said, feeling more than a little unsteady but grasping desperately for all the comfortable bravado he'd had a moment ago, "That'll uh, I think that'll do it."

Then he turned away to cough nervously into the night air.

"Gonna have to, have to get me home first though, champ."