Joey gave Lance his first drink ever. He wished he could remember what it was, thought maybe it was more important than he knew then. He never liked beer, and Joey knew it, so one night he smuggled a bottle of something into Lance's room. He'd held Lance's head over the toilet a couple hours later, laughing and disgusted, but mopping Lance's face off with cool damp washcloths.

Lance did remember the feel of Joey's hands when he stripped off the dirty clothes and tucked him into bed. The next times, he'd made Lance shower too but that first night, he'd begged Joey just to let him sleep already. When he woke up the next morning, Joey was curled up by the side of the bed, and he groaned when Lance poked at him.

Lance liked the way Joey's eyes crinkled when he laughed and doled out aspirins and said "Worried about you, kid. Thought maybe you were gonna lose a kidney last night." He'd fed Lance orange juice and scrambled eggs then, forcing him to eat, and nodding wisely when Lance admitted that it did help.

They drank together, sometimes, after that. Not in clubs, Lance didn't count it as drinking together if he had to be careful with how much he drank and watch Joey take other people to the hotel rooms they sometimes shared. They drank together in hotel rooms, Joey draining dark beer out of bottles while Lance mixed progressively stronger vodka drinks, laughing at subtitled programs and eventually falling asleep tangled together.

The mornings after were always silent, and Lance thought it was more than hangover headaches. When the lights were turned out and the television flickered black and white in the dark, Joey would pet his hair and once he kissed Lance on the corner of the mouth, sloppy and loving.

They kept doing it, and Lance lost track of how long it had been, and exactly how much he drank, but years later, he could remember exactly when Joey doled out those tiny bits of affection. Sometimes, in the morning hush, he'd take a few minutes in the bathroom and just look at his reflection. He saw bloodshot eyes, matted blond tipped hair and tiny wrinkles that he never saw any other time.

Vodka and Jack Daniels gave him courage and he asked Joey once, why they'd never really kissed. Joey just laughed, and poured Lance another drink, "Everyone else kisses you. You and I, we're friends. S'better, I mean, I knew you when you were a baby." Joey stopped smiling then, tilted his head to one side, a weird mannerism he picked up when he was completely wasted. He didn't say anything more, just changed the channel and started talking about Battlebots.

The next morning, Lance stared at his reflection until he thought he could see traces of the insecure kid he'd been. He started drinking early that afternoon, Jack and Coke, his new favourite drink since cranberry juice started making him sick. Joey didn't come by that day, and Lance fell asleep alone, movies blurring into one another as he sipped slowly and steadily. When he fell asleep he thought blurrily that it was good that he didn't throw up anymore, since Joey wasn't there.

Joey stopped by the next day, dragged Lance out to dinner and then it was back to Joey's house. The drinks were cold, some new sweet alcohol that Joey found in the section of the liquor store that was generally devoted to stuff that they all scoffed at and called girlie drinks. Lance didn't like it, thought that maybe he wanted the clear taste of gin.

He said it. "Joe, dude, you got any gin?"

Joey shook his head. "I hate that shit. And besides, then I wouldn't want to do this." And he leaned in and kissed Lance, not a sloppy, corner of the mouth kiss, but hot, slick and it wasn't until Lance tasted something sweet that he realized just how real the kiss was.

Lance closed his eyes, grateful that it was happening at last, until it was over and they were standing apart, just looking at each other. He moved away. "Joe, I think maybe we'd better try this when we're not drinking."

Lance was tired of being drunk, tired of trying to think clearly when his mind was foggy, tired of nothing feeling real. "Try me again tomorrow, when we can actually think?"

Joey nodded and turned away, while Lance thought about their silent mornings and how much harder things were when they were sober.

~end~