These guys are growing on me.
I feel bad for torturing poor Alan, but at the same time I can't really see him as the happy go lucky sort. All the better for him to find someone to help him. In this case: Lorenzo.
Obscure character love GO.

Enjoy

"Hello?"
"Lorenzo? Please tell me I got the right number."
"No, you got it. Who is this?"
"Alan."
"Alan?"
"Can you pick me up? Please? Or get Peter to do it?"
"What- Why? What's the matter?"
"Nothing I… I don't have money on me. I can't stay here. They're closing the bar."
"Bar?"
"Please come get me."
"Alan you're eighteen – how did you get into a bar?"
"I walked."
"Walked where?"
"Twenty seventh and… thirteenth."
"Alan that's ten miles from your house! You walked ten miles to a bar!"
"Don't yell. Please."
"Alan – why are you there?"
"I needed to get out. Please just come get me."
"Alright… alright. Stay put. Sit right outside. I'm coming to get you."
"No. Send Peter."
"He has the night off."
"Send him!"
"Alan- I'm coming to get you. Just stay right there."
"You hate me. For doing this. For being like this."
"No, I don't hate you."
"Yes you do. Everyone does."
"No one hates you. I'm just worried. Now stay."
"Don't hang up."
"I won't. Just sit down right where you are and stay."
"I'm sorry."
"It's okay."
"No. I'm sorry I'm like this. I'll get a cab."
"No! Alan, no. Sit. Sit down right now and wait for me. Keep talking."
"I'll just-"
"Sit."
"Sit down and-"
"Wait for me."
"Wait for you."
"Good."
"… Lorenzo, right?"
"Yes. You called the right number. I'm coming right now."
"Oh God-"
"It's alright. I'm not mad. I won't tell anyone."
"Oh God- I'm such a fucking idiot."
"No, you're just… drunk. Probably. Just stay right where you are. I'm on the road."
"Lorenzo?"
"Yes."
"Thank you."

That call had come about an hour ago.

Lorenzo had driven to the twenty-seventh and thirteenth, looking everywhere for Alan. Three and a half blocks over he found him, sitting in one of the patio chairs outside a bar. The wait staff was exceedingly gentle with him, keeping him hydrated and out of the street. They gratefully passed Alan off to Lorenzo, and Lorenzo tipped them handsomely. Alan, by this time, was sobered a bit but still out of it – he only stopped talking to Lorenzo through his cell when Lorenzo gently took it from him and hung it up.

A few apologies later, Lorenzo put Alan in his backseat and drove him back to his house. He debated talking Alan back to Redman Mansion, but with the relationship between father and son it was likely that Mr. Redman didn't know his son was gone, much less drunk. Aside from that, Lorenzo really didn't feel like being the bearer of bad news, dragging Alan up the driveway. Instead, he figured he could stow Alan away up in his room until he felt better, then drive him back.

His plan seemed to work seamlessly. Alan could walk but he stumbled every so often, so Lorenzo helped guide him up the stairs and to his room as silently as he could manage. Now that he though about it, it was kind of funny that Alan would be seeing his room for the first time. Especially since they had become pretty good friends and the first time it popped up it would be under these circumstances. He wondered why Alan never bothered to ask to come over. His room had been quite popular in grade school, after all.

Granted, as he grew he had revamped his room, gotten rid of some of his trains and models and games, updated his equipment and filled out the bed a little more. But the fact still remained that it was still a massive room and it got a little lonely at times. Lorenzo blamed it mostly on the bed. Even if he was a bit taller than average (something that baffled his parents and most people – Latino's were supposed to be short), there was still a whole other half of it open and missing. Even If he stretched out every which way it was still too big for him.

So he put Alan in it.

It didn't occur to him that he lived in a mansion, that there were at least eight guest rooms he could have plopped the drunk boy in and locked the door to so his parents would never find out, or that he could have called on Peter to take him home instead of making him his problem. But he didn't. Instead Lorenzo looked at Alan, who had curled up and cupped his face in his hands and wondered why his room looked smaller and more inviting than it had a few minutes ago.

"How are you doing?" He asked softly, kneeling beside him "You're still conscious?"
"Yes. Regrettably."
"Do you need a bucket?"
"I don't vomit." He paused; opening his eyes "I just get a little… dizzy. And slow."
"You sound alright to me. You're sure you're not going to be sick?"
"I'm fine."
"Do you want me to call your fath-"
"No."
"Oh. Okay. " Lorenzo bit his lip and reached out to brush some of Alan's hair out of his eyes. "You need a haircut."
"Mmm."

Alan sighed and tilted his head down, half forcing Lorenzo's hand into his hair. He said nothing else and seemed to refuse to make any more noise. Lorenzo thought maybe he was thinking about something, or trying not to puke though he claimed he wouldn't have to. After a moment he got to his feet and disentangled his hand from Alan's hair. The other boy looked up in time to see Lorenzo take a seat next to him on the bed, idly keeping an eye on him, but giving his knees some rest. Satisfied he hadn't thought to run off, Alan stared at the opposite wall, letting his eyes go unfocused.

The clock ticked away on his bedside table, and Lorenzo wondered what was it he could do that would calm Alan down, or at least get him to sleep finally? Perhaps if he sang something, like that song his mother would hum to herself every once in a while. It was in Spanish but it was soft and comforting and it was nice to listen to. He wasn't much of a singer either, but whispering made everything sound alright.

He had scarcely opened his mouth and sang the first few verses when Alan twitched and started thrashing.

"Don't!" He suddenly cried, jerking violently "Please… please don't do that."
"I'm sorry?"
"Don't sing!" He rasped. "Don't. Please no."
"Ah… alright." He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. "Can I do anything? Maybe get my viola? I can play that better than I can sing."
"No… Just…" He grasped desperately for Lorenzo's arm and held onto it tight "Sit here? Until I pass out. Just until then."

Lorenzo nodded and assure him he would, and Alan seemed to calm. He could feel the photographer's hands twitching, working their way along his forearm. Lorenzo was at a serious loss for explanation. He understood Alan had his quirks and did things people never quite understood. He knew he had his reason for being that way, though he might not have been completely sure what they were. He knew that Alan knew he was strange and for that reason he held the boy with a lot more respect than he was used to. But this was odd, even for Alan. Then again, Lorenzo had never seen him drunk before. He hoped this didn't happen a lot.

With a small smile, he patted the thinner hand that still gripped at his arm, not minding too much when it gripped him tighter. Alan peered up at him, blinking a few times to focus his eyes. All the while Lorenzo waited patiently, watching his face for any anything that would induce more thrashing or an upset stomach. But instead Alan simply looked at him, working his jaw in an attempt to say something.

"Thank you." He finally blurted, one of his roaming hands finally finding Lorenzo's and squeezing it gently "Thank you. For … for everything."
"Don't mention it. That's what friends do."

Alan considered this (or looked like he was), closing his eyes and taking a breath. Slowly the desperate hands unclenched themselves and withdrew, pulled back toward the thin chest. He stayed like that for a few minutes, his eyes shut, his breathing even, looking calm. Lorenzo thought for a moment that he had fallen asleep finally, and that he could take this time to call Mr. Redman and get the guest room ready for himself.

But Alan had other plans for him.

While Lorenzo thought of things he needed to do to alleviate any troubles tonight and in the morning, Alan opened his eyes. He looked up at the young millionaire engrossed in thought. Before Lorenzo realized, Alan had sat up, hunched over himself, still looking at him carefully. Once Lorenzo did notice, though, Alan sat up straight, still staring. The Latino smiled slightly, attempting to ask if he was feeling alright. Before the words could even properly form in his mind, however, Alan lurched forward. Reflexively Lorenzo leaned back, expecting to be covered in sick, but Alan was too quick.

He wrapped his arms around Lorenzo's shoulders and held him with the same desperation he had gripped his arm earlier.

Lorenzo wasn't sure how to respond. Alan had never done this before. Actually, no one had clung to him like this before. And Alan was shaking in his grasp and hugging him pretty tight. Lorenzo wondered if he was going to maybe start crying, though he couldn't imagine why he would. He was safe and relatively happy – or at least he was here. But still he cautiously put his hands on Alan's back, hugging him loosely. Sometimes drunk people cried about anything – and since Alan had quite a few reasons to be upset, he might just keep going until he cried himself to sleep. Lorenzo didn't want that. He hugged him a little better, hoping that would keep him from bursting into tears.

Again Lorenzo was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he was oblivious to what Alan was doing. Before he knew it he was tipping backwards and ended up falling on his side, next to the skinnier male. Lorenzo blinked but made no real move to pull away. He was much too baffled by the way his bed now seemed perfectly filled. Why would his mom get him a bed meant for two people when she clearly expected only him to be in it?

"Thank you." Alan breathed, hiding his eyes against Lorenzo's collarbone. "I can't… thank you enough… for all you've ever done."
"No problem."
"Why are you so good to me? I've… I can't help you."
"Sure you can. You're my friend. We help each other."

To Lorenzo, this was the simplest thing in he world. It had to be just that simple. Anything else would be overkill, especially to drunk Alan. He might have been inclined to explain it more thoroughly to sober Alan, but drunk Alan was another matter entirely, and he didn't want to upset him.

To Alan, on the other hand, Lorenzo's explanation, as simple as it sounded, was the most complex thing he'd ever heard. He stared hard at the collar of Lorenzo's shirt, trying to piece things together. When that didn't work he lifted his head, attempting to look Lorenzo in the eye. He could usually tell what he was thinking by looking at his face. But all he could see was a small, sincere smile and tired eyes looking back at him. Alan was always at a loss when he saw that – it was too simple, too foreign to him that he barely knew how to react. It made his gut churn and his heart beat faster than it should have. But it also made him feel warm. Like he wasn't quite as alone as he though he was.

He pulled back, resting his head on the pillow beside Lorenzo's. Alan smiled gently – the first one he managed all day. Lorenzo always had a knack for making him feel better. He was such a good friend. He tightened his hold around Lorenzo's shoulders and shut his eyes. He'd have to… thank him. After he rested his eyes for a moment.

Without meaning to or even realizing, Alan had leaned forward and pressed his lips to the corner of Lorenzo's mouth.

It was an accident – or at least that's what Lorenzo finally ended up deciding it was. That's the only thing that made sense. Alan had passed out almost immediately after with a small sigh (and he wouldn't remember it at all when he woke up, as it turned out). He was drunk. He was lonely and scared. It was just an accident. A slip-up. It wouldn't happen again, Lorenzo was sure. Not that he would be angry or weird about it. Alan was just… he was Alan. He couldn't hate him for much of anything, really. He hugged the slight boy carefully He didn't stir or whine, so Lorenzo sighed in place of him and shut his eyes.

He'd make sure everything made sense in the morning.

Thanks for reading!