addicted to madness [harlan]

Harlan pondered the redhead's question without turning to face her from the couch. He could tell from her speech alone that he wasn't the only one that was feeling the effect of the whiskey they'd consumed. Everyone had their tells - Honey's was her accent. To anyone but Harlan, the slight change may have gone undetected, but he knew better than that. "Hmm," He thought out loud, a guttural hum from the back of his throat. "I will say that I was surprised," He continued genuinely. He wasn't sure that he was willing to admit he was pleased to see her just yet. The night was far too young for that.

The wizard's silvery gaze followed with interest as Honey's figure stepped in front of him and crossed his line of vision, nearly tripping over something he didn't bother to investigate further. Instead, he instinctually leaned forward with arms outstretched, ready to break the fall. "Merlin, be careful," Harlan sat back almost immediately after she caught her balance. "Precious cargo here," He tapped the lid of the bottle with a smirk to indicate where his concerns were directed.

As the conversation fumbled awkwardly on, Harlan turned his body so that his legs were facing the woman. The two of them had never really entertained the idea of small talk, a fact that was quite evident to him now as Honey struggled to formulate a question. "No," He replied shortly with a smile. She was trying, and that was nice, but he had no capacity to continue. Particularly when his family became involved.  Small talk was painful enough as it was, throwing his personal life into the mix was disastrous.

Just as Harlan opened his mouth to protest the topic of conversation, a diversion had redirected his attention. Honey spilled her drink down the whole front of her knit sweater, the deep amber color deeply staining the fabric immediately. It didn't stop there, though, next thing he knew the shirt was over her head and on the floor. Harlan nearly spat out his drink, a small almost immediately dancing across his features. She sure knew how to shake things up, intentional or not.

The sound of Honey’s voice sounded distant through the wall that separated them and the haze of the alcohol. Harlan happily made his way to bridge the space between them. “What was that?” He had meant to approach with more caution but instead he passed the threshold like he owned the place. The room was as familiar as ever, particularly when he laid on eyes on the witch who was currently standing in the middle of the room as though she had forgotten what she was looking for. “Need a hand? “Harlan spoke up. “...you came in here for a shirt, by the way,” He answered the questioned she even ask as he took a few more steps.

"What?" Honey jumped as he caught her off guard; she hadn't expected him to follow her. though she would be lying if she said she minded. "Oh, nothing." She finally remembered his straight-to-the-point answer to her original question just moments before. "No matter," she finished with a shrug, glancing around the room and realizing she had completely forgotten why she had gone in there in the first place. She glanced back up as he posed his next question. "Do I need-- oh." She was confused for only a second, the warmth in her cheeks in stark contrast to the smirk on her lips as she looked down at herself and her bra. "Not even a fun one," she half-muttered, though she had full intentions of being heard.

She shrugged one shoulder. "Dunno how helpful you are with putting clothes on," she looked up with one eyebrow raised and held his gaze for a couple seconds before finally turning her attentions toward her wardrobe. Shirt. She needed to put on a shirt. She needed to put on a shirt and have some more awkward small talk and make sure that Harlan make it through the evening without losing any articles of his own clothing. Simple enough.

"I think I can manage," she reasoned, her back turned to Harlan as she rummaged through a drawer to find a well-worn tee with Honeydukes H's in pattern. She pulled it on as she turned around, letting her hair out of her bun completely rather than attempt to fix the mess a flyaways she had created with her undressing and redressing. Tucking her hair behind her ears, Honey swallowed hard upon finding that Harlan had come even farther into the room when she wasn't looking. "I, er," she started, suddenly quite upset that she had left her glass in the other room. He was a lot easier to deal with when she had alcohol to help her.

Honey Bea closed the space between them with a few steps, close enough to feel warmth radiating from him, to smell a combination of him and Scotch. She stood still for a few seconds, her eyes fixed on his face, moving from his eyes to his lips and back again. She remembered what it was like to kiss him, though it would have been nice to know that the last time she had done it would be the last. She could have savored it more, or something, before settling down to only kiss one man for the rest of her life.

She stopped her thoughts dead in their tracks and wrapped her hand around Harlan's glass, deciding that commandeering his drink was a much better plan. She finished what was left in the glass and took a couple steps back before her calves brushed up against the edge of her bed. Taking a seat on the blankets, Honey held up the empty glass. "We're out."

Just as he had derived, Honey had forgotten the very reason she made her way into the bedroom to begin with. Harlan smiled, his eyes then following her direction to her choice of garment and its supposed inferiority.  As far as the wizard was concerned, that sort of thing only ended up on the floor anyway, but he decided to play along for the sake of the banter. "Is it not?" He paused dramatically, making it clear that he was trying to recall otherwise. "Looks quite nice compared to the others," The captain couldn't help but laugh as the distance between them was bridged.

"That's true," Harlan agreed with the fact that putting clothes on was not his strongest suit - at least as far as it concerned the woman in front of him who was currently pulling a shirt over her head. "I'd much prefer the opposite, anyway..." He spoke with assurance despite the fact that he then breezed over the loaded statement the moment Honey stepped into his space. The sweet, floral, scent of red hair that had just been let down stopped the man momentarily. He mirrored her gaze, steel eyes following suit to her lips, and then back to her eyes.

Harlan was aware that the two of them were playing a dangerous game. A game that long ago he swore that he would never indulge in. But he couldn't control himself. Once the train was on the tracks there really was no going back with them. He hardly noticed the fact that Honey had taken his drink and instead watched with interest as she downed the remainder of the amber liquid. At that point, he didn't give a damn whose drink it actually was.

The moment that Honey had removed herself from his immediate proximity, though, Harlan let out an almost audible breath of air from deep in his chest. If she was trying to tease him, the witch was doing one hell of a job. But two could play at that game. "We are?" Harlan followed her to the side of the bed and stood still in front of her, enjoying the sight of her looking back up at him. Still till intently looking down to the woman, Harlan leaned down to wrap a hand around the now empty glass, his free hand resting comfortably just above her knee.

"I could have sworn this was mine?" Harlan hummed, happy to play along with the game for the time being. After a moment, he stood upright. The hand that had been on Honey's leg moved routinely to her chin, tilting her face so that she was looking back up at him once more. With a quick spell, the bottle of whiskey came flying into the room, pouring itself into the bottom of the glass before setting down on the dresser. Harlan wasted no time to take the drink in one mouthful, the burn of the alcohol a welcome reprieve from the current infuriating situation he had created for himself. Instead of apologizing, though, he handed to empty glass back to her with a smile.

"We're out," He shrugged, mimicking the woman's statement from just moments before, not daring flinch from where he currently stood. "How did we end up here?" Harlan spoke almost to himself as he looked down at Honey, exasperated. It was as though the Universe was daring him, testing him. As much as he wanted think he was strong, in this moment, Harlan was anything but. In one swift movement, Harlan leaned down to kiss her, one hand planted on the bed and the other in her hair.

“My Scotch, my rules,” Honey mused with a smirk, doing her best to not let on that she was still thinking about how his fingers had brushed hers when he took the glass from her, using every ounce of restraint to not react to the hand on her leg. She didn’t want him to move it, but she also didn’t want him to know that she was enjoying it. It was hard not pout as he did move it, though the expression was quickly replaced with another smirk as he tilted her chin upwards and they made eye contact. It was short lived, though she wasn’t disappointed to find that he simply needed both hands to fetch more whisky.

She took the empty glass from him, though she didn’t bother to look down at the dregs, too intently focused on his face. “We’re out,” she repeated, though the bottle was just feet away and they both had the ability to fetch it without moving.

Honey could almost tell what was about to happen before he moved, and even though the thought had crossed her mind mere moments before, finding Harlan’s lips on hers caught her completely off guard. She froze for a fraction of a second, both hands still clutching the empty glass. She was surprised to find that an image of her boyfriend wasn’t the first thing to pop into her mind, but rather how much she had missed Harlan’s particular brand of kissing. One hand grabbed at Harlan’s shirt fabric and pulled him closer, meeting him partway as she leaned up into it.

Harlan had broken things off between them because she had been dating Will without disclosing it to him. And now, months later, Harlan was kissing her, moments after they had been discussing will, how they were dating seriously enough for her to have a couples’ photo in her kitchen, seriously enough that the word ‘wedding’ had been thrown around without irony.

She pulled back just enough to make proper eye contact. “Harlan--” she really should say something, put an end to this, continue on her mission of getting Harlan to leave for the night. But whisky was the easiest thing to blame. Honey took one last look at him before relinquishing her grip on him, standing up slowly and ducking around him. She crossed the room, one hand still clutched tight to their shared glass, her sights set on the bottle on her dresser. For a brief second she considered taking a drink directly from the bottle before thinking better of her decision and pouring herself a refill, which she downed immediately. “Not that I hated that, or anythin’, I just…” she trailed off with a half smirk, unsure how to put her thoughts into words.

“I’m dating Will.” She hesitated a second before adding, “Exclusively.” She heard the words coming from her mouth, but she didn’t feel the emotion attached to them like she had been expecting. Instead, it was almost as if it was just a disclaimer, something to clear her conscience in case it ever came up: He kissed me but I told him I was dating someone. It’s not that she considered kissing Harlan as cheating on Will, not necessarily. But she would be lying if she said she wasn’t considering doing it again.

Honey nodded almost imperceptibly as she took a step forward, leaving the once-more empty glass behind on the dresser. “But you don’t want to date me,” she continued, closing the space between them again as she reiterated her words from earlier in the evening with an arch of her brow. “So guess that’s that settled.” She didn’t know why she was still talking, sure Harlan didn’t care for anything she had to say right now. He didn’t care that she needed to work out her feelings before kissing him again, which she did without warning.

She just needed to get this out of her system, to approach this like this was the last time she would kiss Harlan, and then it would be easier to stop. She stretched up on her toes, one hand reclaiming its spot in the fabric on his chest, the other moving to the back of his neck and pulling him closer.

Although not unexpected, Harlan reeled at the absence of lips against his own where Honey's once were. The decision to kiss her was impulsive, wrong even given the information about her relationship that she had literally just divulged regarding her relationship status, and he fully expected there to be backlash. Instead, though, the redhead removed herself from his proximity without so much as a slap or kick to the shin. He was mystified.

"I know," The wizard commiserated, voice breathy as he agreed with her one word protest. He had no business wanting her. He had no business wanting her more upon learning that the very reason he had pushed her away for so long was validated from her own mouth. She was dating Will. Exclusively. He reminded himself of this at the very moment that Honey spoke it aloud, as though the Universe was doing everything it could to imprint it in his brain. No matter how much, though, he still wanted her. Infuriatingly so.

Steel colored eyes followed her figure intently as it bridged the space that she had just put between them, narrowing as Harlan tried to make sense of it all. Honey was speaking, but her body language was betraying the point she was trying to make. As she entered his close proximity, he stood up straight, bracing for the impact. "I don't want to date you, " He repeated distractedly, an honest remark that was trademark to his manner. Dating her was the last thing on his mind.

Before he had the chance to explain himself, it happened. She was kissing him, at a pace that matched the first move that he had made just moments before. Harlan leaned into her pull despite everything in the back of his mind that knew what they were doing would have implications. One hand pulled Honey as close as possible to his body from her lower back, more roughly than he had planned, and the other reached for the side of her neck.

She shouldn’t be doing this. She knew it, she felt it, yet there she was, doing it. She wasn’t thrown off -- and she appreciated the roughness -- when he pulled her closer, releasing her grip on his shirt and moving her hand around Harlan’s waist. This second kiss was much less confusing, with less conflicting thoughts invading her head. But accompanying the fleeting thoughts of confusion was her thought that she was just doing this to get it out of her system, that this would be the last time. They had known each other less than a year, but he was so familiar.

All thoughts of her boyfriend aside, Honey stopped wondering what she needed to do for this to be considered cheating. Harlan tasted good, like the whisky she had to sacrifice drinking and something else she couldn’t place. The hand on his neck moved upwards into his hair, tugging on his locks briefly. She pressed into him, both to get closer and to convince him to take a step backwards toward the bed.

They only made it a couple of steps, however, before Honey pulled out of the kiss, yet still dangerously close to initiating another. She was lighthead; she didn’t know if it was the whisky suddenly making its presence known all at once or if she was having a sincere reconsideration. As much as she wanted this, as much as it felt right, the smallest part of her was proclaiming that William deserved better than this -- it wasn’t like she hadn’t before moved from Will to Harlan and back, but there had never been that clause of exclusivity before. She was blaming the whisky, of course, and the wine she had in Florence when agreeing to this landmark in her and Will’s relationship, and Harlan for being impossible to mentally and physically let go of.

She placed a final, light but lingering kiss on lips before dropping back down on her heels, the hand that was in Harlan’s hair now on his cheek. “I think,” she started and trailed off, blinking through the fuzzy thoughts, quickly reassuring herself that she was making the right decision. “You should go.” She didn’t apologize, didn’t think she needed to, because there was no denying that there would always be something between them. Honey took a small step back, smaller than she should have to get her point across, and without taking her eyes off of his, she hoped he wouldn’t protest because she would cave instantly.

But she took another step back and the feeling passed quickly before she reiterated: "Yeah, you should go." Tearing her gaze from him, she turned on her heel and left, closing the bathroom door behind her as she willed him to leave.