Good News, We're Getting Married!! No, We Aren't Gay, Duh!

Jay waited impatiently for his best friend to show up at the bar. He had downed three beers already, though that was nothing for a man of his stature. He hadn't even realized he'd been drinking alcohol yet. He sat at their usual table, rather secluded. Usually Bartholomew and a few other friends of theirs showed up, but tonight Travis had just wanted it to be them, for some reason. Good news, he'd said.

"It better be damn good news or I'll kick his ass," he grumbled, looking at his watch again.

Travis Sullivan burst through the front door, panting slightly. At 6 feet even he was a wall of almost pure muscle; there was a reason he was his team's best goalie. His shirt stretched over his chest as he moved, the fabric struggling to hold together.

He slid into the seat opposite Jay, plastering a big smile on his face.

"Hey, man! 'Sup?"

Jay smacked him on the shoulder.

"Don't 'sup' me, you fag! Tell me what the news is!" he said impatiently. But he soon grinned.

He grinned back, more genuinely, now.

"I, uh, I got a job. A real good one. Guess where at, man!"

"No, I hate guessing!' He insisted. "Just tell me, Jesus dude!"

He looked around the bar, then leaned close and whispered, "It starts with an 'M' and ends with an 'icrosoft.'" He beamed broadly, awaiting Jay's reaction.

Jay was almost too surprised to react, and it took him a second before his smile evolved into a great, big grin.

"You did?!" he exclaimed, nearly knocking over the table as he stood up. "That's awesome! How the fuck did you manage that?!" he said loudly, trying to sit back down but he was too excited. He ran a hand through what little hair he had; the sides were shaved away. "Duuude, that's so awesome! We're gonna get so plastered tonight!"

He nodded eagerly.

"Totally, man! I can afford to!" He glanced at the bar. "What should we get to start? I dunno what I want, you order first."

He shrugged.

"I'll have what you're having tonight. We're celebrating you're totally awesome job!" he grinned, patting Travis on the back.

"But I don't know what I want..." He frowned, scrunching up his nose.

"Hey, bartender! Can you get me and my buddy half a dozen Irish Trashcans?!"

Jay scrunched up his nose, but he tried not to show it.

"Sounds great!" he replied, though some of the enthusiasm had since left his voice.

"Wanna see who hits the floor first?" he teased, nudging Jay with his elbow. The simple contact sent a spark up his arm, much to his chagrin; why couldn't he be gay for anyone other than his best friend?

Jay responded by punching him on the arm.

"You're fuckin' on!"

Yet, even as Jay waited for their drinks, he knew it'd be black-out territory after just a few. He gave himself two before he started spouting stupid shit.

Travis downed his first trashcan the moment it was set on their table, letting out a loud whoop.

"Your turn, bro!"

Jay reluctantly drank his, and he could already feel his head swim.

"Yeah!" he shouted, pretending to enjoy it. "I love these things!"

"Inorite?!" He downed his next two in succession, beaming proudly. "Goddamn...think I can almost feel a buzz!"

Jay grimaced as he drank down another one. He already felt like throwing up. He swallowed, wincing.

"Come on, man, the last one--chug it, chug it!" he chanted, patting him on the back. He was pathetic, and he knew it; he took any chance to touch Jay.