A/N: shout out to my datefriend for the original convo this fic is based off of

chapter warnings: alcohol, non-explicit vomiting

Bright, colorful strobe lights in an otherwise dark space, loud electronic music, and birds cheering wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Those birds partied every other night and sometimes during the day too. The lights didn't look nearly as pretty or as blinding, though.

It was a Friday night at the local bar. Exhausted from the dancing, Chuck made his way back to a table where Bomb still sat this entire time. Dancing wasn't really his thing. Well, it kinda was, but he wasn't the best at it and didn't want attention drawn to him on the dance floor. Instead, he sat eating a fruit salad he had brought from home.

Chuck raised an eyebrow at him and got the idea to pour whatever was left of his own alcoholic drink onto Bomb's food. They both stared at it in silence for five seconds. The question (and the answer) to whether or not he would be eating that wasn't said, but it was there somewhere.

Bomb wasn't upset, as he already ate enough and mainly had it out to avoid looking awkward being all alone at a table. "Are you really that drunk?"

"Nah," Chuck smiled. "I've had a lot, but I'm good at handling it. Like really, really good." He pat his friend's back. "And you, my friend, look bored beyond belief! Wouldn't you rather be having some fun?" He turned his head. "Like Red over there?"

That statement was a bit of an exaggeration; not unusual for Chuck, but he was mostly right. To an outsider, it might seem like Red wasn't all that enthusiastic over being in a place like this, but all the contrary, not just on his attitude but also on being here. He was no stranger to this place. Granted, all he did was sit in a corner until he forgot about whatever was upsetting him that day. He now stood with a more relaxed expression, leaning against the bartender's table as he waited for his drinks to be served, bobbing his head to music he wouldn't be listening to— let alone enjoy— at any time besides now.

Bomb spoke up with slight defense in his voice. "I'm having fun!"

His follow up comment on how Red is taking a while to get back to the table with their drinks didn't get much of a reaction or response from his very lovestruck friend. An elbow propped on the table, Chuck used his wing to support his tilted head. Hearts practically appearing over his head. Half-lidded eyes staring at Red enjoying the loud techno beat.

Trying not to specifically make a comment about Chuck wagging his tail, Bomb broke him out of his romantic trance by poking him, seeing as just waving his wing in front of his face wasn't working. "You... really aren't being subtle about this, huh?"

Abruptly, Chuck's posture stiffened, his wings making fists and hitting the table.

"Well, I-I-I'm sorry!" Bomb stuttered out, trying to stop tears from forming.

His friend's sudden gesture didn't come from anything said, it was because of what he just realized. At some point, Red wasn't enjoying just the music, but also what he had his eyes on, and Chuck traced his sight back to what it could possibly be. If only some birds could stop being so rude and get out of the way with their outdated dance moves to let him spy.

The target was (probably) spotted. A group of conventionally attractive, but otherwise indistinguishable male birds. Their head feathers going in some unnatural way and perhaps were extensions. No one would be surprised if they were actually a boy band where they're all "the cute one". The way they stood, complete with one having his wing around the other a liiitle too close, made it the perfect CD cover for them.

Nonetheless, strangely Red was sort of interested.

And Chuck was infuriated.

Fiddling with the straw in his empty cup, he tried calming his thoughts by bringing up what he knows about Red. He knows that Red himself wouldn't really like any of these guys. He just finds them good-looking in his somewhat inebriated state. He knows that Red isn't one to like someone just based on their looks. He knows that Red doesn't know a thing about flirting. He knows that Red lacks basic social skills altogether. He knows that Red will never make the first move. He knows that Red being ridiculously hot is... his unpopular opinion, so he knows that there's no way any of those posers will even think of getting near him.

Not resisting the urge to look back up was a mistake. His brows furrowed even more as he saw Red still staring, even when the drinks had already been served and placed beside him. He thought that Red has got to be bad at handling drinks if just two or three made him practically hypnotized by some okay-ish dudes. Chuck shot down a sudden thought that suggested that he himself might find them better-looking had this been a completely different scenario. That would, like, never happen. Obviously.

Chuck simply crossed his wings. Then he noticed a change in Red's expression and connected it to one of those birds walking. One that seemed tall and somewhat purple? It was hard to tell with the lighting. The bird also wore sunglasses inside at night because of course he wore sunglasses inside at night.

Chuck... simply dug his fingers into his arms. Then it was certain that the sunglasses bird was making his way towards Red.

Chuck would've jumped up if Bomb hadn't put a wing on his shoulder. He wondered when he did that, but then again he honestly forgot Bomb was even there while he succumbed to his own bitterness.

All Bomb knew at the moment came from what he could see, but he has known Chuck long enough to know when he's about to do something he'll regret later on. "Don't."

"Whaaat? I'm not..."

Chuck couldn't take it anymore and ran. Bomb sighed, taking a bite of his fruit salad, promptly spitting it out when remembering it was tainted.

It took Red a few seconds to realize his wing was now being held and not by the bird he was expecting it would be.

The awkwardness filling the air made Red give a nervous chuckle. "What're you doin'?", he slurred, leaning his head towards Chuck, but never breaking eye contact with the bird in front of him.

"Holding your wing." Red groaned at how he was blankly given the literal explanation and at how Chuck still wasn't even looking at him.

Sunglasses bird's expression flattened. "Oh. You have a boyfriend..."

Red would've choked on his spit if only his breath wasn't so dry. He denied the assumption as quickly as possible, which wasn't working, seeing as Chuck held his wing even firmer and gave the taller bird the death glare of a lifetime. Trying to insist that he doesn't know Chuck wasn't working either.

"...'mean, ...I-I do know 'im, he's jus' drunk!" Chuck's breath did reek of alcohol, but his actions were very much in his control. "...Very drunk."

Sunglasses bird cleared his throat and said that he's going back to where he was to give them both their space for them to figure this out. He quickly apologized to a still very angry Chuck before leaving.

Red pouted as he thought of everything that could've come out of this and how it was all gone. He remembered all those times he thought that no one could be even remotely interested in him. He recalled everything that had just happened and snapped back to reality, his wings making fists, one of which was still holding Chuck's and was nearly crushing it.

"What the flock was that?!", he yelled as he faced Chuck. Feeling stupid when realizing he was still holding wings with him as he said that and finally removed his from this grip as aggressively as possible in his drunken self. He felt unpleasantness all around with what just happened and how he suddenly regrets those drinks. He wants to go home and sleep forever, or stay here and drink forever, but not before scolding his 'friend'.

Chuck's eyes darted around the room as quickly as possible while his face heated up. He found his fake answer nearby, raced towards it, and back. He took a small sip from one cup and held the other two with his other wing. "You were taking too long with our drinks!" He stuck his tongue out in disgust when realizing he drank the one meant for Bomb. "Who orders milk at a bar? They have that on the menu?"

If anything, Chuck's reply made Red even more frustrated. "You couldn't jus' get the drinks yourself? You were so upset that you had t' embarrass me?"

Realizing he'd dug himself into a hole, Chuck aimed to steer this more into what the real answer was. Just to get out of this and not end up confessing, of course. If anything, just for the current setting. 'Red, I know you're not the same bird you were a few drinks ago and our breaths are disgusting but just know I have a huuuge crush on you' isn't nearly as romantic as he'd planned this would go in his head.

"What if he was just pranking you?" Close enough. At the very least it had to do with him not liking the guy.

"...'cause a guy like that must be jokin' if he's hittin' on someone like me, huh?!"

"Nope! No, no, no." Chuck reassured with his wings in front of him to try and calm Red down. "I-It's the opposite of that! Uh... He didn't look good enough for you!"

Red's shoulders dropped as he glanced at Chuck. He looked at where he was staring earlier to see the bird with his friends once again and smiled. "He looked fiiine..." His tone of voice and expression made Chuck feel like he'd been kicked in the stomach. Red continued, looking back at Chuck, irritated. "Dudes usually never talk to me! Y'know that!"

"Oh," Chuck placed his wings on his hips and tilted his head to the side. "And what am I?!"

"Ugh." Red rubbed his temples. Just a moment ago, it was all fine. It was all great, even. Now he has to deal with Chuck not handling that him being extra wasn't well-received. "Jus' tryin'a get a man!" Perhaps said louder than hoped for, but he didn't care at all.

Chuck stomped his feet repeatedly, feeling like screaming. "What if he's closer than you think?!" He immediately wished he really had gestured at himself. Red can't possibly be this dense.

Red looked over Chuck's shoulder to see Bomb still at their table. He looked like he was contemplating doing something— maybe getting on the dancefloor—, but he'll probably just sit there and they'll already be leaving by the time he made up his mind.

"Eh... Bomb isn't really m' type..."

Chuck threw his head back as much as he could, groaning. "Not. Him." He groaned even louder.

Red rolled his eyes and spoke in a casual, fairly joking tone. "Pfft. Then who?" The next thing he said was what put the nail in the coffin in what he meant. "You?", he snickered. Which became louder as his drunken self found this to be the funniest thing in the world at the moment.

Glass shattering was heard. It could've been the drinks Chuck dropped. He feels it was something in him that made that noise instead.

Chuck took a step back and saw everything disjointed and blurry as he struggled to keep his balance. His stomach felt like it twisted and wouldn't stop, if anything got stronger. It was painful to swallow, but he knew he needed to.

He couldn't stop to rethink about what was said. He couldn't wait to form some questions to ask. He couldn't even glare at Red. All he knew was that he couldn't just shrug that off as inebriated insensitivity, and that had to leave and quietly ran out the establishment.

Red examined what was happening and it wasn't making sense to him, not just because most things at the moment weren't making sense to him. For a second, he thought it was just Chuck being dramatic, like he was during past dumb arguments they've had. But it was different this time. Chuck never stayed quiet like that, not to mention a brightness that seemingly died out in his eyes.

He had to to talk to him.

But first, he nearly jumped in place at being tapped on the head and broken out of his train of thought. He would've been tapped on the shoulder if he wasn't so short. Before the other bird could get a word in, Red spoke up. "Oh hey... Sorry, man. I really can't talk right now."

It was still completely dark outside as Red walked out the doors of the bar. Chuck could be anywhere in the island. He figured he'd just make his way through it slowly because Chuck needs to be here somewhere and Red wasn't going to rest until this was done. Rest mentally, at least. He felt like he was close to blacking out.

His plan for lookout was interrupted by the sound of vomiting nearby a bush. "Same", he muttered.

He squinted as he tried to make up whoever that sound was coming from, only to find out it was Chuck.

Relieved, he clumsily jogged towards his friend, keeping a distance between them for various reasons. "Chuck! I was-"

Chuck wiped his beak before getting up to walk away. Red blinked and followed with a blunt "okay".

Surprisingly, Chuck just walked, which was still admittedly much faster than Red's walk, but it meant Red could keep up.

"I'm not talking to you."

"Well, you jus' did. So, do you mind tellin' me what all that was about?"

Chuck sighed and spoke in the most serious tone Red has ever heard from him, making him wonder just how much of his usual voice was forced. "Red, you're pretty smart. I'm sure you could figure this out on your own. You're lucky you're so tipsy right now."

And with that, he finally ran off, deep in the trees, leaving Red with even more questions than before.

Chuck ran back a second later. Wings on his hips, moving his head from side to side with every other word he said. "And don't follow me to my house or else I'll get my parole office on you!" And then he left.

And then he came back once again. "Okay, so he's there because I've done things... B-But I'm sure he could do something to you too!" He pointed up and left, yet again.

Red... didn't exactly have more questions than he did before. At least, he didn't have any that really mattered. He filed the last few seconds as just dumb and focused back on what he needed to do. He decided to give Chuck his time for the night. Maybe he'd cool off in the morning.

For now, it was time to go home and overanalyze the situation at hand as best as he could. And wash his mouth repeatedly.