It was a stupid idea. Not that Dino’s ideas were usually brilliant, but it seemed that this one took the cake. He’d played truth or dare with shots before, but most of the time he chose dares. He’d done his fair amount of ridiculous things on a dare, really, but he tended to shy away from the truth section of the game. Why, then, had he suggested drinking truth potions and getting absolutely hammered?
The sun was setting in Fiji, and as always it was the most stunning sight any of the young Wizarding Expedition Society workers had ever seen. The oranges and pinks of the sun seemed to melt between the darker colours of the sky and the ocean, and eventually all was going to fade into black. And then afterwards the torches and party lights would be enough to cast a warm glow on the researchers, not to mention the fire they were planning on starting further down the beach a while later.
Dino hadn’t believed his luck that he’d been able to find so many of his usual colleagues here in this archipelago at this time, and he was absolutely thrilled that everyone had decided that here was a much more cracker place to be than anywhere else they called home during the holidays. He was a jammie bastard, and not a word of a lie.
They’d started with the shots a while ago, and the volleyball game was long finished. Dino wasn’t sure he’d have a lot of balance for it if they played now, but that wouldn’t have stopped him. Volleyball in the dark. Sounded naff. Right up his alley.
But the game of, well, truth or truth, was interesting enough to keep him focused, and while he was laughing along with the others, making fun of a magizoologist, he was rather glad that the focus of the game hadn’t yet turned to him. He glanced at Dorian, sitting two chairs away from him, drinking a mojito with what seemed to Dino like determination. Very sexy. He definitely had the most to lose if questions turned to him. He’d worked with most of these people before; they knew him. Dorian didn’t. Somewhat regretfully, and undeniably wistfully, he tore his glance away from the Greek cartographer. The more he had to drink, the closer he wanted to be. It was a good thing, then, that there was a herbologist and a philologist between them, but he knew that once they moved to the front of the fire, there was all the chances in the world that Dino would accidentally end up sitting on the same blanket as Dorian. Wick man, catch yerself on.
‘How about you, Dino, what’s the drunkest you’ve ever been?’ The philologist asked.
Bollocks, now the spotlight was on him. Dino ran his hand through his hair and exhaled sharply. ‘I once woke up on a beach in Thailand three days after the party had started, and I was on a different island altogether, and wearin’ some girl’s clothes, and the hotel receptionist from my place had to come and get me and told me I’d ended up buyin’ a goat? That was a fun time,’ he recounted. He had been wearing some girl’s clothes, that time, and he’d never been able to explain it. Surely he hadn’t slept with her. But Dorian would probably think so, and that was for the best, of course.
Speaking of which, the lad had now finished his mojito, and after a second of contemplation, got up, asked Dino and the magizoologist if they needed more drinks, and after Dino had asked for a beer, made his way towards the bar. Unable to help it, the oceanographer watched Dorian’s lovely retreating form, biting his lip.
It was now, of course, that his colleagues decided to round up around him, and, of course, gang up on him.
‘Soooo, Dino,’ the herbologist cackled, looking to Dino like a velociraptor about to pounce on her prey. ‘Now’s your chance, you have to tell us what you think of that one,’ she said, pointing to Dorian over at the bar with her chin.
Dino rolled his eyes and scoffed good-naturedly. Of course. It was to be expected. Everyone had to have seen his lustful puppy eyes whenever the Greek god wasn’t looking. It had to be obvious to everyone. It was kind of a miracle Dorian was oblivious to it, really. Dino was making such a huge effort, too! Being bros was something, but being straight bros? He really had limited opinion on topics such as breasts. ‘Ach, what do ya think? Why are ya even askin’, when ya so very obviously know the answer? How can ya ask me that, have ya not looked at the lad? Are ya an eejit, or are ya blind?’ Dino finished his glass.
‘Why don’t you go for it?’ Someone else pressed on.
‘Ach are ya banjaxed in the brain? We’re friends, I couldn’t.’
‘That’s never stopped you before, Dino O’Sullivan.’
And that’s why truth potions were especially irritating and why this was such a terrible idea. Because here he was, running his mouth, and he couldn’t seem to help it. ‘Aye, but this is different.’
‘How is it different?’ All Dino’s coworkers seemed to huddle over and seemed to hang on every drunken word flowing from his drunken lips.
‘Because I kind of like him, alright, are ya happy now? Ya can’t say anythin’ about it, though,’ he added urgently.
‘Ooooooooooooh, Dino has a cruuuuu-uuuuush,’ came several sing-songy voices.
Of course, this was the exact same moment Dorian chose to return from the bar, all smiles, and handing Dino his beer.
‘What did I miss?’ He asked, sitting his beautiful body back down while Dino focused as best he could on his beverage.
‘Ach, the crunchiest details,’ he said lightly, pleased that that was actually the truth. ‘Sláinte, big lad,’ he toasted.