Mark & Doug, Tuesday afternoon

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At Amanda and Marie-Ange's behest, Mark helps a high-on-pain-killers Doug get back home.


The giggling could be heard through the open door to Doug's office, all the way down the hallway. Intermixed with it were a few rude noises, obviously whenever Doug was reading a comment from Amanda. He couldn't help it. His head felt all floaty, and everything seemed at least a little bit silly.

"I really would love to see you drunk," came Mark's voice from Doug's doorway, "If this is how you act when you're high on painkillers." He smirked and ambled into the office. "I've been drafted to take you home. Come on, get your ass up."

Doug pouted, sticking his lower lip out for effect. "I'm perfectly fine," he enunciated carefully, pointing his finger for emphasis on each word. "It's not my fault nobody told me how many to take," he complained. "It's always 'take two and call me in the morning'. So I took two, and now I feel much better!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms wide and nearly tipping his chair over. He yawned abruptly. "Jet lag might be catching up with me, though."

"Thing is, if you want to stay here, then no one can be held responsible if certain videos or pictures are taken and end up online." Mark shrugged innocently, though his left hand was going for his pocket, where everyone knew he normally keeps his phone. The one with the very good camera on it.

Another yawn escaped Doug's mouth, and he drooped a bit. "Maybe, *yawn*, I'm getting a little *yawn* tired," he admitted. He sighed and leaned his head on his hand. "At least my head hasn't hurt, though..." He levered himself up from his chair and staggered toward where his coat hung on the back of his door. "Make the room stop spinning," he whined plaintively.

"You are so pathetic that it's almost endearing," Mark laughed, moving to help Doug get his coat on and maneuver himself out the door. "What would be worse, taking the subway three stops or walking the mileish back to your place? I'm looking for the answer that won't have me either wading through your vomit or having to carry your loony yet tight butt across Manhattan."

Doug frowned and turned around like a puppy, trying to look at his rear end. He stopped and pressed a hand to his head. "Ooh, that was a bad idea," he muttered. "What's so fascinating about my butt?" he asked confusedly. "It's an extremely ordinary butt." He paused in intense concentration for a moment. "Walk," he said firmly. "Subway's too stuffy."

Mark took the opportunity to consider how to answer Doug's question tactfully while donning his own coat and scarf. "I don't think I can respond without sounding like a complete pervert, and I don't like being a complete pervert."

"Mokay," Doug said unsteadily as Mark led him by the arm out of the office. He leaned up against the other man heavily. "You're a good guy, you know that, Mark?" he asked suddenly.

"Aww, you're sweet, too. Man, people are gonna think you're smashed at three in the afternoon, walking around like this," teased Mark, wrapping an arm around Doug's midsection to help keep him steady. "And that can only be good for business."

The pair made it back to the brownstone without incident, and up the stairs to Doug's apartment. By this time Doug was visibly wilting, and leaning almost completely on Mark for support. He managed to fish his keys out of his pocket, but the door looked way too difficult for him. "Can you?" he asked muzzily, holding his keys out shakily.

"Would you believe that this is the first time I've had to do this?" Mark accepted the keys, unlocking the door and pushing it open with his foot. "I make it a rule not to go home with people this far gone. Just in case you question my integrity."

"I'd question your integrity, but that sounds like it'd be too much effort." Doug's voice was slurring now from the painkillers hitting his system hard. "Thanks, Mark," he said. "I need to...thingy. Bed," he muttered.

Doug all but collapsed onto his bed, still fully clothed. "And I also make it a rule not to do this," Mark said wryly, carefully removing Doug's coat, gloves, shoes, and socks, "Without explicit permission. But all rules require exceptions every so often. Um." Mark glanced around the room a bit nervously. Not that he'd never had to take care of drunk or stoned friends before, but they were never this far gone. "I'll, uh, stay here for a bit just to make sure that you don't, you know, die in your sleep or something, 'kay?"

The deep breath of the soundly asleep was Mark's only answer.