It's an ugly little niche in the world. A graffiti tagged building nestled in a less than favorable part of Detroit, the concrete structure was bordered by alleyways and cheap motels. A one-way street that crossed by the west end was under infinite construction and the orange cones continually had to be replaced as many ended up as wall décor in teenaged bedrooms.

It was a shoddy place, most likely a warehouse or a chop shop at one point in its miserable life. All of the windows were boarded over with bars as support. It was the kind of place people were smart enough to avoid. However, this was only during the day.

At night, like this particular Friday evening, it changed. Those lost souls with too much free time or needing a sexual outlet, this place became a haven.

It had no official name that anyone knew. It was like some secret that no one wanted to learn for fear of losing the magic. It had a couple nicknames for comprehensions sake, such as 'The Den' or '989'. In all retrospect, the building was nothing more than another club dotting the map. Yet, the place had a certain charm that seemed to attract those of all walks of life, from every corner of the globe.

Now, past the bouncers, ID checks, and a sloped decent to the basement later, there is basically only one rule. Respect the Gods. In this mix of lights, sound, and airborne STD's, there are two higher beings in which you must convoy every bit of reverence you can muster.

One, is the God of sound. The DJ and co-owner. Lars Morgens. Few people know where the man managed to materialize from. Originating from the Netherlands, Lars just appeared one day, bearing gifts from his homeland, and just fell in with the community. He was the guy that no one knew anything about but managed to find a place within any group.

The second, and more important to our little story, is the man who releases the hidden dancer, creates an opportunity for even the worst pickups, and probably has had a hand in an unfathomable amount of walks of shame.

That would be the bartender and the second name on the deed, Matthew Williams.

Matthew, a dual citizen of Canada and the United States, three years graduated from Michigan University with a Bachelors in Business and continuing to room with his roommate-

"Oi! Matt! Time to say my name bitch!" A loud voice shouted over the bar.

-Gilbert Beilschmidt, German, self-proclaimed Prussian. native whom immigrated to the states during his high school years. He managed to graduate by some miracle and now has a Bachelors in Architecture after six years of classes.

"Gilbert, I couldn't if I wanted to. I think your parents wanted you to stay a virgin." The blond rolled his eyes, his voice having a hard time overtaking the pounding bass.

The two of them were roomed together Matthew's first year, Gilberts second.

"Well, they failed….And I'll have you know my name just rolls off the tongue." He began to wiggle a pierced tongue in suggestive ways.

It was rocky at first. The two of them seemed to be at odds at all times of the day. Matthew was a straight-laced student, always with a nose in his books. He was careful to have his homework done well before due and polite to his peers, respected by his teachers.

"Seemed the guy the other night was having a hard time saying it too."

Gilbert was the exact opposite. Late night partying and sexcapades were his trademark. Often, the poor Canadian was kicked out of their shared dorm with some pocket change for the night. The albino man often ended up in class with dark shades, using the excuse of having naturally sensitive eyes when asked about it. His English education was excellent until he actually moved to America and learned of daytime television. Gilbert is often saying-

" 'Cause I'm so awesome!"

However, by the end of the second semester, the two of them managed an agreements of sorts and ended up becoming the best of friends who brought out new sides of each other.

"Look at you go! Props to me! I told him those bartending classes would pay off someday." He nudged the closest person, pointing towards Matthew who was currently spinning a bottle of tequila on his forearm before toss and catching it to pour shots for a trio of women. The blond professionally added a wink for good measure as he passed off the glasses.

It was true too. Matthew hadn't planned on bartending for a living. The Canadian had even admitted to not liking his major at all, but had kept at it for 'reasons'. Gilbert, being the awesome friend he is, pushed the impressionable man to night classes during intersessions and breaks for the hell of it. The German ended up quitting due to the fact that all the broken glasses started cutting into his beer money. Matthew had taken to it like a fish to water.

Checking to ensure all his paying customers were settled, Matthew went and draped himself down in front of his roommate, mauve eyes meeting red.

"Something you need, Gilly?" He asked, placing emphasis on the nickname.

The other man wrinkled his nose at the word. "I see your seduction approach is a good as ever."

"Fuck you." The retort was grit out as he leaned back away from the offending person. His techniques were flawless. Thank you very much…In fact... The black lights outlining the bar created a glare against his glasses, hiding a sudden gleam in his eyes.

"Plu-leeez?" The German whined.

Matthew seemed to ignore him at first, resisting the urge to grin to himself and grabbing a bottle from the iced down buckets behind him. Catching the red eyes again, he held the contact as his hands made quick motions. Gathering his black top, he used the fabric to remove the top and sent a preview of waistline to those fortunate enough to pay attention. The metal clattered to the floor but neither of them dared to break the stare.

Slowly bringing the brink to his lips, Matt took a sip of the beer, careful to let a small line drip from the corner of his mouth before nearly slamming it down in front of the other. His tongue flick out, cleaning off most of the liquid. With a smooth motion, he slid the beer over, making sure his fingers brushed against the lighter skin of Gilbert's own before retreating.

"How about…no" He purred before quickly skipping off to take care of a couple who meandered up to the bar.

Gilbert stared at the brown bottle for a moment before narrowing his eyes at his friend.

"That's so wrong. You owe the Tease Jar." He paused, before adding on. "That was worth, like, five bucks! In American Dollars!" Taking a generous sip of the obviously free drink, he began mumbling to himself. "Canadians…using good bier…cheap shot..."

The only answer he got was the drowned out sound of laughter.

Tsking, he began tackling his beer with vigor. " You don't know what you're missing." Gilbert mentioned as Matthew scurried by.

"And I'm fine with that." Matthew shot back as he worked the top off a bottle of vodka.

"Says the guy who got laid once this year. It's Juni! I mean, even I will say that Kat chick is cool, but you two sounded so…." He paused, searching for the word he had learned from Jerry Springer. "…vanilla!"

Matthew went three shades paler suddenly his hand nearly dropped the glass of vodka he was now holding.

Gilbert noticed. "Was?"

"Do you want me to die?" He lowered his voice as best he could while still being heard over the beat. With his eyes, he motioned towards a large man who looked to be waiting expectantly. Matthew, not wanting to keep him any longer, carefully slid the glass to the man who thanked his curtly before treating the alcohol like water.

Gilbert waited with narrowed eyes, finishing his own drink with a significant gulp and nearly shattering the empty bottle on the bar. The bartender was quick to make his escape and remove it from his grasp.

"Yea. Now shut up about Ivan's sister!" Matthew hissed.

"I hate that arsch." He announced, not registering Matthew's words.

"Yeah. He stole your idea, ran off with the glory, blah blah blah."

"It's true and you know it!" Gilbert huffed indignantly.

"I know that you two ended up with similar ideas for your midterms and Ivan managed to actually plan his out…with written details…and charts…like, you know, was required." Matthew kept his voice down as he mocked his friend. Ivan had taken classes with Gilbert, leading to their current one sided rivalry. Even without the degree under his belt though, the fair blond wouldn't have had much trouble making his way in the world.

That is, if the rumors were true.

Gilbert stared for a moment before looking like a kicked puppy. "Oh great…now he's brainwashed you with his Russian ways."

That sentence didn't receive a retort, however, the Canadian felt a kick to the back of his head as he remembered something very important.

Something that he should have addressed days ago.

Oh well, he had all night.

Gilbert was a regular here. Being roomed with one of the owners made him a demi-god of sorts to those who frequented this little hole in the wall. Needless to say, it wasn't long before he was over the ritual free beer/rejection of the night and finding new conquests on the dance floor.

All good things must come to an end though. Lars was sure to pass on the message very clearly.

"Four in the morning, ladies and Gents. Grab a buddy and get gone." The words were tossed over the intro of the last song.

Not that there were that many people left to kick out. More than two thirds of the populace had already cleared for other activities. Such as monopoly tournaments and sleepovers.

Gilbert took the hint and dashed back to the bar where Matthew was finishing up his cleaning duties from the last call. Sashaying back and forth, he began to mouth the lyrics with flamboyant hand motions.

"…But you're an animal, baby, it's in your nature. Just let me liberate you!"

Matthew just stared at the man as he absentmindedly polished the tabletop to a shine. Despite his best efforts, the blond couldn't keep a tug at the edge of his lips.

"Matthew, dearest, do me a solid?" Gilbert wiggled his brow and naturally fell into a cocky grin.

"What?" He asked innocently, not commenting on the horrific slang the German had picked up. Honestly, he didn't need to ask. The Canadian had been keeping an eye on his friend and could already figure out the next sentence.

He just wanted to hear it.

"You're really going to make me say it?"

Oh yes. Matthew just smiled.

"Don't come home?" The words were bitter as he felt his awesome rating slip a little for leaving his buddy out in the cold cruel world.

As any good friend would do in the situation, the Canadian put on the most hurt expression he could muster. "Gilbert. I thought we had something special."

"Well… if you wanna join…" He trailed off with a happy expression, looking as inconspicuously as possible over his shoulder. Matthew followed his gaze to the brunette waiting by the exit. The man seemed to be completely pissed drunk if the way he held the wall like a lover was anything to go by.

Oh boy

"Gilbert…" He warned. Matthew knew the man. He knew so much more than he ever wanted to know. Roderich was one of those people that either made no sense whatsoever or his level of thinking was on a plane far higher than his tiny Canadian brain could ever understand. Ninety-five percent of the time, the Austrian man hated everything Gilbert and lived a happy life with his girlfriend. Then there was that five percent of life in which the two of them ended up having hate sex. Very noisy, Germanic, hate sex. No way was he going home tonight. His face made that point very clear as well.

"Fine don't…your loss." Gilbert shrugged

"Just don't use my bed this ti-" Matthew was cut off by the German's victory pelvic dance that was accompanied by more lyrics.

"You wanna hug me Hey, hey, hey…What rhymes with hug me?"

Matthew didn't have the vocabulary to describe his current feelings. Thus, he simply ignored the German as he started to dance over to his nightly acquisition.

Until he remembered that very important fact he had been beating down for the past few hours.

"Gilbert!" He shouted.

"Yeah?" His face was hopeful. "Change your mind?"

Matthew tossed his rag at the man, watching it fall harmlessly a few feet away. "I need to you clean up well when you're done. My brother is coming in Sunday and will probably stop by unannounced." He said as if mentioning the weather.

"Gotcha." Gilbert replied halfheartedly before he realized one important fact. "You have a brother?!" He shouted well over the remaining din of the club, practically jumping back to the bar and effectively pissing off his partner.

Matthew had told him about his brother, right? It was kind of Introduction 101, right after names and life goals.

Okay. Maybe he had left that little bit out. It was for a good reason and if his brother hadn't wanted to visit it over seven years, well, more reason to leave him an unknown. Gilbert only needed to know that Matthew went home for Christmas, not who was there or who had gotten him that god awful sweater that probably came from the Salvation Army.

Oops.

"Yea…a twin actually." He finished sheepishly. Nail in the coffin.

Sex or finding out your roommate's life story. Sex or learning why one of your best friends never told you about the opportunity to have a threesome with twins. Sex or a possible long, awkward, and probably emotion talk.

Gilbert gave him a 'we are talking about this later' look while Matthew avoided eye contact with practiced ease.

If he didn't see it, it never happened.

Finally setting his priorities in a row, Gilbert gave one last meaningful look at his friend before heading back to Roderich. A shout over the loudspeaker was directed at him. A one fingered salute and a cackling laughter was the last they saw of the albino.

Hanging his head, Matthew began to envision multiple scenarios for the next week. None of them good. He knew his brother. He knew his roommate. One-on-one, he had enough sass to keep them in line. Together, his brain simply refused the possibility.

Plus there was that.

He shuddered as he wiped away a mental image that threated to blind him.

Right. One problem at a time.

"Hey Lars? Mind if I crash on your couch tonight?"