I Can Call You Betty (Sean)

[Stefan Spencer]

Stefan had lived by a strict no drinking and driving policy for years now. After his accident, he had promised his sister he would never drive a car drunk again. And while he had driven a few times after he'd had just one or two drinks. He had always walked home or taken a cab once he passed the walking a straight line point of the night.

But that had all changed with the purchase of his motorcycle. He reasoned that since it wasn't a car, he should be able to drive it if he could keep it upright. Perfectly logical. And since his sister had passed away, she wasn't around to argue the point with him. After all walking home was hard on his body the next morning.

So that evening he had decided to take his bike home from the bar. He was wobbling quite a bit, but he managed to pull out of the parking lot, which he figured was a positive sign that he would be just fine.

Five minutes later, his had plowed his bike into a telephone pole just outside of the main part of town. Luckily, he hadn't been going all that fast and he done far more damage to his bike than himself. But now that he bike was unable to carry him home, he decided maybe he should call for back-up.

Plopping down on the side of the road and using his bike as a very uncomfortable backrest, he flipped out his cellphone and called who he thought was Mike.

"Mike? Hey handsome, you up for being my knight in shining armor?"

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Both Sean and Josh had cut down on the liquor consumption, twice, for the same reasons. The first was that they had become foster parents in spring 2013, and, in order to better tend to caring for a child, they had cut back for matters of parental responsibility. Then, Josh had been diagnosed with hypertension, and they had both agreed to cut back for the attorney’s health. Beer had been substituted with wine, and they had each resolved to drink less hard liquor. As a result, even after Bailey had been adopted by her extended family and they no longer had parenting responsibilities, the two men imbibed far less frequently than they had even three years ago.

At the height of consumption, the telepath had been able to stop cold turkey. He never drove drunk. The only car accident in which he had ever found himself had been the result of Josh’s first driving lesson, when the two men had been stone-cold sober. He had never crashed a bicycle or other method of transportation.

Sean had also never drunk dialed anyone, not even Josh.

Such was the backdrop of the unexpected telephone call he received from Stefan one night. He had the other man’s telephone number saved as a contact, and so it identified him as the caller as it rang. Yet, before he could officially answer and identify himself, the journalist made it plain that this was a wrong number.

Sean Neville was not Mike Batista.

The telepath suppressed a sigh. “This isn’t Mike, and I hope you aren’t in jail.”

To his knowledge, Pilot Ridge did not keep an active drunk tank.

[Stefan Spencer]

Stefan had drunk dialed just about everyone on his contact list. Multiple times. He'd also drunk texted. He'd even drunk snail-mailed before. Basically if you could do it while drunk, Stefan had probably done it.

Stefan was confused by a voice other than Mike's answering the phone. It took him a moment or two to place it as Sean Neville's voice. And even then, he still hadn't realized that it was because of his own miss-dialing that he had reached that voice.

"Sean? That you?" Stefan asked. Well slurred-slash-asked. "What are you doin' at Mike? Pass him the phone."

Stefan had to chuckle though at the assumption that he was in jail. Of course he took it as a joke. For as often as Stefan spent stumbling around Pilot Ridge he didn't often get hauled in by the police. Still, it had happened. And usually Mike was the one he called on those occasions as well.

"And no, I am not in jail," Stefan answered, after he got himself to stop laughing. "I only wrecked my bike."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

“Mike isn’t here.” If Mike’s name had been David, then that would have been the introduction to an unfortunately-timed and famous bit of stoner humor. Instead, Sean was deadly serious. “You called my cell phone. I’m at home right now.”

This was the type of telephone call that the telepath would take from Josh, but would still be completely embarrassed on his partner’s behalf. The fact that Stefan had made it, and seemingly possessed awareness of neither the fact that he had dialed the wrong number nor that wrecking his bike while drunk was a serious matter, provided far less tolerance to the telepath for the entire matter.

Sometimes, Sean wondered how it was statistically possible that he possessed so much more maturity then other middle-aged men in his age group. And that they had all converged on this small town, even taking into account some of the oddness inherent in residing in the meta-human capital of the United States.

At least it wasn’t a jail visit, which was a start.

“Do you need someone to pick you up and take you home? Or do you specifically want Mike?”

Since the telepath was already awake, he would give Stefan a ride if he wanted. Otherwise, if the journalist had a specific reason for wanting Mike, for instance their friendship and past history, then Sean would give the trainer the head’s up to call Stefan at the wreckage site.

[Stefan Spencer]

Stefan was starting to piece things together. And he started laughing when he realized his mistake. Of course he thought that calling up someone in the middle of the night, possibly waking them out of a deep sleep, was hilarious. Though even if the tables were turned, Stefan would probably think being on the receiving end would be funny too. It had happened to him one or twice. Admittedly the ratio was very one-sided and usually Stefan had a few drinks in him no matter what hour of the night.

"Well I guess you'll have to be my shining knight then," Stefan answered after picking up the phone from when he'd dropped it laughing.

At the offer to be picked up Stefan nodded, then realized that Sean couldn't see him and started laughing again. He managed to keep a hold of the phone this time though.

"I'd love a ride, gorgeous." He was looked around from his spot on the side of the road, trying to figure out just where he was so he could tell Sean. Though there wasn't any street signs that he could make out. "Uh...I'm beside by motorcycle." Surely that was all the directions someone would need, right?

Though Stefan and Mike did have an interesting relationship and Stefan was used to the other man coming to his aid, he didn't feel weird about having someone else being chosen for the honor tonight. It wasn't like Stefan was ashamed of his current predicament or anything.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

By contrast, Sean found nothing humorous in this situation. The only positive was that Stefan did not drive a car when drunk, although a motorcycle was bad enough. A motorcycle had an engine, a drunken person did not have the requisite reflexes to successfully drive a motorcycle while inebriated, and he could still cause an accident. Still, it wasn’t a car, and that was a small step in the right direction.

The laughter added insult to injury and assured Sean that this would be a long night. Stefan’s antics continually demonstrated the line that the telepath never wanted to cross with his drinking, even if he had already cut back in solidarity with Josh’s hypertension. However, he stood by his offer, as he would prefer that Stefan get home safely rather than spend the night at a crash site.

Speaking of the crash site, beside my motorcycle provided no insight into Stefan’s location. Fortunately, Pilot Ridge was small and Sean knew it like the back of his hand. Also, he had telepathy to aid him in this crash. Still, a narrower search area would be helpful if provided. “Where were you drinking tonight?”

Many of the bars and clubs were downtown in the club district, so that question might prove useless. Still, it was worth trying.

[Stefan Spencer]

Stefan never worried, or even really thought about, the accidents and problems his drinking caused. Although he dealt with hangovers, aches, and bruises after many nights he usually chalked them up more to his age than his drinking. And even when he did skirt close to the idea that perhaps it was the huge amount of scotch in his system the night before that cause him to drag the next morning, he always felt that the night had been worth any discomfort the next morning. Even if he couldn't exactly remember all the details.

As for his drinking affecting others, Stefan didn't understand any way that it could. After all his drinking was his business. And his alone. And no, he did not have a problem with it, so why should anyone else.

"Where wasn't I drinking tonight would be a better question?" Stefan slurred and started laughing again. He had visited a few different places. But they'd all sort of blurred into one by the time he'd decided to head home.

"You gonna be my hero, babe?" Stefan asked, though he really wasn't all that concerned. Things would have a way of working themselves out, as they usually did.

"I'd offer to walk myself home, but I seemed to have misplaced my cane. And one of my shoes. No wait, I think I see it in the middle of the road." Somehow the image of that was also hilarious. He almost dropped the phone laughing.

Then again. "Poor little shoe. He looks so lonely out there by his lonesome. Without a mate." Cue weepy drunk Stefan.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean’s disapproving expression could not appear through the telephone. Perhaps this was for the best, because the telepath would not be happy if Stefan could see his disapproval and chose to disregard it with the same level of carefree mirth that the other man displayed throughout this telephone call.

He held back his sigh, more from habit than from any true desire to shield Stefan from his disapproval. As it was, he had begun to map the club district downtown, in order to cut down on any confusion, and to avoid prolonging the time that Stefan would be unattended.

In the morning, he resolved to speak to Mike. While Sean didn’t divulge other people’s secrets, and he extended that even to Stefan, the journalist’s alcoholism and exploits were a matter of common knowledge. Mike’s position as Stefan’s close friend meant that information about tonight’s incident had relevance, particularly since it was obvious that Stefan had intended to call the trainer, rather than Sean.

That was a matter for the morning.

“Don’t call me ‘Babe.’” The only person who was allowed to use such a diminutive with him was Josh, and his partner wouldn’t use that term outside of exaggerated role play or banter. Sean had had a long talk with Stefan about not flirting with him. He had meant it.

“Stay where you are. I should be there in ten to fifteen minutes,” he promised.

[Stefan Spencer]

It probably was good that telephones didn't transmit facial expressions as well as one's voice. Mostly because with the amount of alcohol Stefan had in his system at the moment, his ability wasn't working all that well. Meaning that any and every expression on Sean's face had a high chance of being misinterpreted.

"No Babe. Got it, Honey," Stefan said, nodding along as if Sean could see him. Because while Stefan remember (perhaps not right now as well) that Sean had asked him not to flirt with him. He also have a very different definition of flirting than the telepath did. He figured Sean didn't want to be called Babe either because he just hated that particular name, or it was something special only Josh and he shared.

"I'll be right here. Right here I'll be. Without my shoe. All alone." Stefan slurred a bit, leaning back against his mangled bike. He thought about hobbling over to get it, but the world was already leaning to the left while he was sitting and he was sure that it would only get worse if he attempted to stand.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Stefan was fortunate, in that Sean’s general senses of patience and responsibility were highly developed enough that despite the younger man’s behavior, he remained willing to leave his house in the middle of the night, pick him up, and drive him home. If the telepath had spiteful urges, or even if he thought that, perhaps, Stefan might learn a valuable lesson from a night of sleeping in the street, he would have hung up the phone and simply returned to sleep.

Instead, he ignored the journalist’s implications, and replied, “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there soon.”

With that, he did hang up the phone, but he did not return to bed. Instead, he went to quickly change into enough clothing to comfortably drive, as well as to avoid being cited for indecent exposure. Before dashing out the door, he scribbled a quick note for his partner, in case Josh woke in the middle of the night and found him missing. For the attorney’s sake, Sean hoped that he would return before Josh woke.

Fortunately, Pilot Ridge lacked both the population and the night life scene that might lead to traffic at this hour. The telepath was able to cruise (at a safe and legal speed) without hitting any snags, and he combed through the club district until he found Stefan, as promised, at the scene of a crash site.

At least the other man looked safe enough.

He stopped the car, pulled it into park, and then lowered the window. “Are you able to walk?”

[Stefan Spencer]

Stefan smiled, forgetting again that Sean couldn't see his facial expression. He was about to say something more about the pitiful shoe and how lovely it was that Sean was being his knight to come save the day. However, his phone beeped to let him know that his friend had already hung up the phone.

While Stefan waited, he tried to locate his flask. It must have fell out of his pocket when he wrecked along with his shoe that was still laying in the middle of the room. He stood up a few times in an attempt to actually do more than just turn his head to look for it, but each time he started to get up he fell back over. Not that he was injured, but his leg kept giving out when he tried to get up on his own. On top of that the world would not quit leaning sharply to the left.

"Sean!" Stefan yelled as the other man lowered his window. "You beautiful beautiful man."

"I'm not sure," Stefan said, turning his head to one side to consider the question. He attempted to get to his feet once again, took about half a step, and tumbled back down to the ground laughing. "I guess not."

"Have you seen my flask? I think you ran over my shoe. Poor shoe."

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean suppressed a sigh when he saw the other man stumble. He put the car in park, pulled up the handbrake, and then pulled the keys out of the ignition; the last thing that he needed tonight was to cause an accident due to negligence. With the car secured, he opened his door and stepped out of the vehicle, crossing quickly to Stefan’s side.

Leaning down, he reached out to take the journalist’s arm, pulling him to his feet. “Lean on me to get to the car. We’ll look for your cane and your shoe after you’re in the backseat.” He would not allow Stefan to sit up front in this condition; he would have more room in the back, if he was this unsteady.

As often happened when he saw Stefan this deeply intoxicated, he felt relief that neither his nor Josh’s drinking turned from “hobby” to “alcoholism.” He also wished that their joint social circle appreciated how truly out of control the other man’s drinking was, so that they would stop enabling him. Not that an intervention would work for Stefan at this stage, since he obviously saw nothing wrong with the pattern of his life, and, somehow, he still had a job. There were other avenues of helping him to change his life.

Those avenues would have to wait until the morning.

Slowly, carefully, Sean helped Stefan over to his car. With his free hand, he opened the back door for the younger man, and then managed to get him into the seat, strapping him in for security. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he said, before shutting the door.

Thankfully, they had a streetlight. That aided him in his search for both Stefan’s cane and his missing shoe. Sean did not care about retrieving the flask.

[Stefan Spencer]

Stefan smiled as the other man helped him to his feet. And also started singing after Sean's words got a song stuck in his head.

"Lean on me...when you're not stroooong," he sang, trying to walk, lean on Sean, and dance as the other man led him to the backseat. "And I'll be your friend..." Stefan had not been blessed with a great voice which was why he never sang along to his piano playing. Still he continued to sing/slur until Sean buckled him up. "Won't I be lonely back here all alone?" he called out as the other man when to locate his missing items.

It's true that Stefan saw no issues at all with his drinking. Although some mornings his face and body were sore from fights or stumbles. And sometimes the only way he'd found to deal with is hangovers and be semi-functional was to drink even more that morning. But all that was part of life. If you wanted to have as much fun as Stefan had sometimes you had to deal with a few aches and pains. And it helped that with Stefan's ability he could charm his boss anytime he missed a deadline or something at work.

It also helped that his friends, usually Mike, were always there to come to his aid. And so far the only serious accident he'd had was many years ago when he'd crashed his car and injured his leg. And it was starting to feel so long ago that it had hardly any effect these days as a warning for Stefan to avoid a repeat.

"Found my flash," Stefan yelled out, waving the object around before taking a drink from it. It had been in his jacket pocket the whole time. As for his cane, Sean wouldn't find it since Stefan had left it hanging on the back of his chair at the bar. Not that he remembered that now. His shoe would be easy enough to spot in the road with the streetlight though.

"I'm gonna have to think of a good reward for you for rescuing me," Stefan said, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows. It was obvious he already had an idea or two.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

Sean suffered through the butchered chorus of Bill Withers’s most popular song. Soon enough, he had helped Stefan into the car, and that was good enough for now.

The telepath shook his head to himself at the announcement, followed by Stefan’s quick nip. That should not be the other man’s highest priority, and Sean thought that as a man who owned a flask and had carried it with him out before. Never to a bar, as that would be excessive and absurd.

He spoke over his shoulder. “Just stay where you are.” That was not a request.

Despite the fact that the cane was larger and should reflect the light from the street lamp, Sean couldn’t find it. He combed up and down the street, but he saw no trace of the accoutrement. Surely, that would pose a problem for Stefan in the morning, but there was nothing that the telepath could do about that.

At least he found the shoe lying in the street. That was something. 50% of goals achieved on short notice at this hour of the night was enough of an accomplishment. If Stefan remembered what bar he had gone to come the morning, then perhaps he would be able to find his cane.

Returning with the shoe, the telepath set it down beside Stefan on the back seat, and then he went around to the driver’s side. “I’m taking you home,” he announced, as he slid into the seat.

[Stefan Spencer]

Stefan never left the house without his flask, whether he was headed to work, to a bar, or to visit his daughter at school. It was his adult version of a security blanket. Even if he could only have a quick nip when no one was looking, or at least when he thought no one was looking, he still liked the feeling of it resting in his pocket.

Sean didn’t have to worry too much about Stefan in the morning. This wasn’t the first time he’d left a cane somewhere. He had a few back-ups in his bedroom closet. Still he would eventually have to track it down as it was his favorite. It helped that most every barkeep in town knew who he was and how to get in touch with him. Stefan would probably have a message on his machine when he got home telling him where he could go to retrieve it.

“You found my shoe!” Stefan exclaimed when his friend returned to the car. He leaned over to try and put the shoe on and fell forward, hitting his head on the seat in front of him. He ended up in a bit of a tangle but eventually got himself settled back in the seat.

“Home?” Stefan said. “But I’ll be lonely there.” Although Sebastian would probably be waiting by the door to rub against his owner’s legs it wasn’t exactly the same.

He took another drink from his flask before holding it out towards Sean. “Want some?”