Chapter Text
Julian watched with an inexplicably dry mouth as Alison poured a glass of champagne for herself and Mike; he longed for the golden pour that trickled into flutes, the smell, the taste of celebration.
“Cheers,” they said, and evoked yet another wave of jealousy as the glasses idly clinked together.
Disgruntled, the politician turned to where the clock said ‘ten to twelve’ - ten minutes left of the year and what did he have to show for it? Not a drink, that’s for damn sure. The MP remembered the days of over-indulgence, office new year parties and wondered why he’d ever taken bubbly for granted; amongst other things, it felt good on his lips.
He didn’t drink to forget, well, not wholly. He didn’t do that angsty depression bollocks so much as utilised substances as an excuse for decadence, destructive behaviours. Alcohol? It took the edge off regret; he figured getting a couple glasses down let things get more primitive, less pious - trouble was, the buzz was quite difficult to sacrifice. Julian never let it get to the hangover stage because he was either at it again or out of there faster than a champagne cork.
“Cheers,” Julian muttered to himself - so invested in his fake action he didn’t notice Robin by his side - out of his line of vision until the inevitable tug of his tie.
“What cheers for?”
“What? Oh,” the MP glanced down “nothing, just something you say with drinks, I suppose. Like hello or goodbye.”
From the look on the caveman’s face, he swiftly realised the formality would be futile to explain, hell, he didn’t fully understand it himself. He knew Robin well enough to know that ‘it’s just something people do’ would not suffice without further enquiry.
“… but you don’t have drink. You dead.”
“As everyone keeps reminding me,” Julian facaded a snicker “but, er, noticed Mike and Alison do. Y’know, thought I’d, erm, join in?”
“With what?”
“New years drink? I don’t know. Guess I miss the office parties a little; i didn’t realise how much I relied on booze for a good time - it’s like withdrawal symptoms or something.”
“Miss berry juice, eh?”
Julian snorted “something like that, ape, yeah.”
“I see lots of people drink it over years,” Robin explained “always too much - everyone roll around, kiss wrong person and forget who they are. To me it take away from what make people people - is art-if-icial. But then me suppose that is what people are - is what they always been.”
The politician didn’t say anything, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t thinking.
“…Suppose booze has always been messing things up for people.”
Robin nodded “yup. But, er, is good in moderation. And what you lot think is new year.”
“What do you mean ‘my lot’? New year’s new year.”
“Ambiguous,” the caveman shrugged “changed day since mine. No way to measure - time mean nothing to me now.”
“Christ,” Julian looked on “now I really wish I had a drink.”
“Which?”
“Which?” He repeated, thinking “well, champagne would be my go-to for celebrations but since I’d be breaking sobriety perhaps a merlot? Oh, or Châteauneuf-du-Pape. Mind you, if you go any more psychoanalytical on me I might need a double vodka.”
“That strong one?”
“Well, if you gave me a couple hours I don’t think time would mean much to me either.”
Robin snickered “river water have same effect on bad day.”
They laughed then, watching as Alison and Mike took a sip and, like them, talked of everything and nothing. Julian cocked his head.
“That’s right, isn’t it?”
“Is what?”
“You must’ve never had booze, you know, being a-“ he gesticulated.
“Nope, never,” he shrugged “dunno if would like it.”
“Not even a cocktail? Raspberry daiquiri, piña colada, sex on the beach-“
“What? After you take me for cocktail?”
“No- it’s-“ the MP shook his head “whatever, sure.”
The caveman “Sound… nice. Think it be ok to get drunk if it with you.”
“That,” Julian smirked “is the upmost stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
“So you rather me go without you?” Robin fronted a quizzical expression.
“Oh, no, your first drink’s with me, ape. No protests.”
“Oh?” Robin grinned “and what would you give me?”
The MP mimed handing him a glass “lets start you off with a pineapple margarita. I myself will be having a passion fruit mule - maybe a dash more of vodka, keep things interesting.”
They pretended to drink, savouring the taste of nothing with a smile that kept the fantasy alive.
“Mmh,” the caveman nodded “mine… nice. Can really taste, eh, pineapple?”
“You’re really getting the hang of this improv-“
“Can I try yours?” His visage flecked with mischief.
“Blimey! Don’t want you passing out on me- alright; just a sip.”
Julian went to hand him the invisible glass, but instead Robin held his face, pulling him into a kiss. The MP faltered in momentary shock, before kissing back with equal enthusiasm. The caveman smiled, evidently satisfied, before pulling away.
“Taste alright?”
“S’good too,” Robin smirked “me order lots of those.”
“Well then,” the politician held out a glass once more “cheers, spaceman.”
“… cheers, Julie.”