A/N: Nominally mtc verse. For those who are interested.

A/N2: For InSilva. I don't need a reason.


The Corinthian was quiet this time of day and honestly Donny didn't appreciate it. Call him crazy, but he liked tending bar when it was busy, when there was some atmosphere, some interesting people to talk to. Right now there was only six people in the place. Three wine-drinkers left over from the lunchtime crowd, two old-timers nursing their solitary pints and talking obliviously about some ball game fifty years ago. And then there was the dark-haired man at the end of the bar, gazing gloomily into an empty whisky glass.

Donny walked over to him, bottle in hand. "Another?"

The man looked up at him, seeming almost surprised to see him, and he smiled suddenly and brilliantly. "Thanks."

"You've been here a while," Donny commented, as he poured the drink.

"And I'm going to be here a while longer," the man said, grinning and draining the glass. "Another, please."

"Might want to pace yourself then," Donny advised carefully.

The man laid down fifty dollars.

He shrugged. "Alright man, but if it's gonna be like that, believe me I'll cut you off if I have to."

"'s cool," the man nodded, and it didn't seem to bother him one bit.

Right. Well, the guy still seemed fairly sober. He could probably go another couple of hours before Donny really had to start think of kicking him out. Still... "You driving?"

"No," the man answered, shaking his head. "Live a couple of blocks away. In an apartment I can't get into."

Well that was different. "How come?"

"Roommate," the man answered succinctly. "Roommate's boyfriend," he added with a scowl.

Oh. He'd seen this situation before. Couple of friends of his had been caught up in it last year. Some guy moved in with some girl 'just as friends' and then the girl got a boyfriend, the guy was heartbroken and the girl was oblivious. Shame. "You don't get on with him," he nodded understandingly.

The man blinked and Donny revised his guess of how drunk he was. "Who?"

"The boyfriend?" he prompted.

"He's just not...he's just not," the man said with a sigh.

"He a good guy?" Donny asked.

The man seemed to struggle with this for a long moment. "He's not a bad guy," he said at last. "He'd be a better guy if they left the apartment once in a while."

Donny's eyebrows shot up. Damn. "Like that, is it?" he said sympathetically.

The man looked sharply at him. "No it's not like that," he said. "Not completely like that. They just don't go out. They're there now, drinking beer and watching football." He drew the word out disgustedly.

Donny wasn't exactly sure what the problem is. "Plenty of people like football," he pointed out.

"And some people don't," the man said with a shrug. "And the ones who don't shouldn't have to watch it just because some over-muscled moron of a cop wants to."

"You never make compromises for a girl?" Donny asked pointedly. "Never go see a movie you don't want to, go visit her parents or some shit like that, just to make her happy?"

"Yes," the man admitted.

"Well then," he said with a shrug. "Same thing."

"Maybe..." the guy said heavily, his brow creased and his eyes distant. "Maybe I'm overreacting."

"Could be," Donny agreed diplomatically. "Maybe you should talk to this boyfriend. Find out what he's like. Who knows? Maybe it'll turn out that he really is a good guy."

The man snorted. "Yeah. I doubt it."

Donny kept his expression carefully neutral. "You ever think maybe you're jealous?"

"Jealous?" The man blinked, repeating the word like he'd never crossed his lips before.

"Don't get me wrong," Donny pressed on. "I mean it's none of my business, but you seem like a guy who's used to being the centre of attention. Maybe some part of you resents your...friend...paying attention to another man."

"I guess I am used to him spending all his time with me," the guy said slowly. "Yeah. Maybe you've got a point." He sighed. "I'm going to head home. Try talking. Thanks."

The man left another fifty and walked out the door.

Donny was still blinking.

Him? They'd been talking about another man this whole time? Huh. He would not have called that.


Two weeks passed and Donny didn't give another thought to the dark-haired whisky-drinker. The way it worked, people came in, talked a while, left, and most times he never heard from them again.

Another day, another quiet shift. Tuesday night and no one was drinking. Or almost no one. Couple of groups in, but they were just taking up tables, they'd hardly ordered a thing all night. If he had his way he'd close the bar on nights like this. Let the gossipers drink somewhere else. And the quiet blond at the end of the bar, glaring at the whisky bottle like it had personally offended him. Huh. Actually, he had hardly noticed the guy all evening. Now he was looking at him, he wondered how he could have ever missed him.

Looked like a guy who could do with a few words anyway. Mostly because Donny preferred to have a handle on everyone in the bar who might kick off.

He walked up to the end of the bar and quietly busied himself cleaning the counter. The guy looked at him but didn't say anything. Apparently he was going to have to start the conversation himself. "Girl trouble?" he asked easily.

The blond bared his teeth in what could, at a push, be called a smile. "Guy trouble, actually," he said, and by the tone he was obviously expecting that to be enough to scare Donny off.

Another day and it might have been, but he didn't like being steered like that. Besides. If the guy was a queer, it seemed much less likely that he was going to start a fight or something, and that was the kind of drinker that Donny preferred. "Sorry to hear that, man," he said calmly, in the exact same tone he would have used for a straight guy. "Boyfriend giving you problems?"

The guy shot him a look that was surprised for about a half second before it dissolved into amusement. "Yeah. Something like that." Suddenly the guy just looked exhausted and all at once Donny felt a stab of sympathy.

"You want to talk about it?" he offered. "Sometimes it helps to get an outside perspective."

"Yeah." The guy pressed his glass against his head for a long moment, like he was trying to will a headache away. "Well. I'm seeing this guy at the moment. For about a month. It's not that serious, but it's not not serious, you know? Anyway, he's not out to his friends, so we spend all our time at my place, and he and my roommate don't get on."

Huh. This was sounding a little familiar. He wondered...but he wasn't going to say anything.

"See, I'm his first boyfriend," the guy went on. "Think he feels like he has something to prove. So he keeps being all macho and throwing his weight around and of course...my roommate...isn't gonna stand for that."

"Sounds tense," Donny said, with a sympathetic wince.

"Yeah," the guy agreed. "'s not like I don't understand where he's coming from. But he – my boyfriend – he's completely different when we're alone."

"Maybe you should tell your friend that?" Donny suggested.

"I did," the guy answered. "He says that isn't the point."

"Right." He hesitated. "You think that your friend might be jealous?" he asked delicately.

The blond looked startled. "What? No. No, we're not like that."

Fair enough. Donny certainly wasn't going to push it.

"No, he just wants what's best for me," the guy went on, and a soft smile spread across his face. "Which is irritating, but I can't exactly ask him to stop caring now, can I?" He sighed. "Guess I'm gonna need to put up with it."

He still sounded tired and Donny found himself anxious. "You think it's going to get better if you ignore it?"

"I don't think it's going to get better if I take sides," the blond answered, and he stood up and headed for the door.

Donny sighed.


Three days later and the dark-haired man was back sitting at the end of the bar. They were busier tonight and it was a while till Donny managed to talk to him. "How's it going with your friend?" he asked, and really, he was interested. "You try talking to the boyfriend?"

The man sighed. "Yeah. Turns out I hate that bastard."

Donny winced. Not a good result. "Really?"

"Guy's not good enough," the man said simply. "Not nearly. But I can't make him see that. He says it's different when I'm not there."

"And you don't believe him?" Donny asked.

"Don't care,"the man said with a shrug. "I've seen how it is when I am there. I don't like wannabe tough guys. And the minute his back's turned, the bastard's trying to intimidate me. Trying to order me around. Like that's ever gonna happen." His eyes darkened dangerously and Donny suppressed a shudder. "If I even thought the bastard was trying any of that shit on him..." He appeared to get lost in his own thoughts for a second as Donny shifted uncomfortably.

"But he isn't," he pointed out hopefully, and again that matched up with what the blond guy had been saying the other week.

"No, I don't think so," the man said heavily. "He just seems to keep that particular party trick for other men."

"Maybe he's jealous of you," Donny suggested.

The man raised an eyebrow. "You think?" He sighed. "He's been my best friend since we were kids. I loved him long before I knew what that even meant."

"Maybe you should tell him," Donny advised gently, and apparently it didn't matter that it was two guys, unrequited love stories still got to him.

"Oh, he knows," the man said simply. "And I don't love him like that anyway. I prefer women."

Huh. That was unexpected. He'd thought he was getting good at this open minded shit. Now he was thrown for a loop again. "But you love him?" he asked hesitantly.

The man smiled, amusement obvious. "Like a brother," he offered. "If you like." The smile faded in an instant. "And I don't want him dating someone who's ashamed to be seen with him." He spat the words, dripping with hate and venom.

"Ashamed?" Donny asked carefully.

"They don't go out because the bastard's afraid of what'll happen if he's seen with another man. He just comes over and drinks vodka and they go to bed." The man shook his head furiously. "That's not dating. Not even dinner or a lousy movie?"

Donny frowned. "Got to agree, that sounds shit."

The man nodded. "I'm not suggesting he takes out an advert in the New York Times. But a little acknowledgement?I think he could manage that."

"Maybe he's married," Donny suggested. Sounded like a cheater to him.

"His file says no," the man said absently. "He's a cop."

This was said with great disgust and Donny wasn't exactly sure just what was wrong with New York's finest, but the man seemed quite certain.

"Not a great profession to be a homosexual in," he ventured.

"Like I said. I'm not asking him to tell everyone. Just to act like a human being." He drained his glass again and Donny silently refilled it. "I don't know how much longer I can watch this."

"If you're fighting with your friend all the time, is that really going to help?" Donny asked.

"We don't fight," the man told him.

"I'm just saying, you've made it clear you disapprove, right?" Donny went on. "Maybe you need to back off. Be there for him, but let him make his own mistakes."

"Just watch and do nothing?" The man's eyes were filled with horror, like he was seeing something Donny couldn't imagine. "I don't know if I could do that."

"So what are you gonna do?" Donny asked him.

"I don't know." The guy sighed. "I keep coming back to wondering if I am just making it worse. Apparently the bastard's only like that when I'm around. Maybe...maybe I should give them some space. Go away for a bit, let the relationship settle down." He closed his eyes for a second. "Trouble with that is, I really don't want to." He refocussed on Donny. "Guess I'm going to have to make my mind up. Thanks. For listening."

He left some money and walked away.


The next night the blond guy came in the bar was packed and the guy seemed even less in the mood to talk than he had been before, sitting at the end of the bar and drinking shots of whisky like he'd heard prohibition was making a come back. Donny waited until the guy signalled him over for another drink. "How's things?" he asked with a sympathetic smile.

"Fantastic," the blond declared tightly, tossing the whisky back and setting his glass down hard.

Donny refilled it automatically. "On me," he said, as the guy reached for his wallet.

"Thanks," he said with what seemed like a genuine smile. "I needed that."

"Uh huh. Interesting definition of 'fantastic' you have going there then," Donny said easily.

"Yeah," the guy said, his hand clenched tight around the glass. "Got to the stage where I can't leave the room for five minutes without risking a fistfight breaking out. I should just break up with him, right? I know that."

"You think your friend has a point then?" Donny asked quickly.

"I don't know," the guy sighed. "So what if he's jealous...if he wants to stay in. 's not a big deal. Really. I like him. Isn't that more important? And if I dump him now, what if I wind up resenting..."

He trailed off and Donny had the uncomfortable feeling that the guy was talking to himself. Like none of this was meant for other ears. "Maybe your friend will get tired of being around if he hates your boyfriend that much."

The guy took a sharp breath. "That's...oh, that's not gonna happen." He sounded certain, but there was a look in his eyes that said otherwise. He stood up abruptly. "I should go. You got customers."

When he'd left, Donny found a wad of bills on the bar.


The next morning, Donny found the dark-haired man sitting at the end of the bar practically as soon as he opened. "Man, I didn't even see you come in," he said, wonderingly.

The man just shrugged and held up a handful of bills. "Line them up."

"Alright," Donny said placatingly, and he did what he was told, stealing anxious glances at the man all the time. He wasn't looking bad, not exactly, but he wasn't looking good either. His clothes were rumpled and there were dark shadows around his eyes. Looked like he'd been up all night. Looked like this wasn't his first bar of the day, either. "You...want to talk about it?" he said and his voice was hushed, like someone had died. And then the man looked up at him for the first time, and he wondered if someone had.

"I had a fight with him," he said.

"The boyfriend?" Donny asked, wonderingly.

"No," the man said simply, and his voice was full of despair.

"I thought you said you never fought," Donny said, before he could help himself.

"Apparently I was wrong," the man said, downing another drink. "'s just...the bastard called him stupid. Over a fucking trip to the liquor store. Like if the clerk sees two guys buying booze together he's going to assume they're screwing. He called him stupid and he called him...and I was standing right there. I'm meant to let that go?"

"Never get in the middle of a domestic argument," Donny advised. "No matter what you say, you're always wrong."

"Didn't even get a chance to," the man said gloomily. "He took one look at me and bundled the bastard out the door to buy his own fucking vodka. And that's when the real fun started."

"I'm sure it can't be that bad," he said encouragingly. "If you two are such good friends, I'm sure he'll get over it."

"I don't know," the man said. "What I said...I was talking about the bastard. How he always acts so tough. The way he talks to him. How he reminds me of..." He suddenly clamped his mouth shut. "It was something that should never have been said," he offered after a moment.

"But you said it anyway," Donny said sympathetically. He'd been there. Hell, most people had probably been there.

"No," the man said. "But that doesn't matter. I didn't say it. I didn't need to. He knew what I was thinking." His head dropped down onto his hand and Donny wasn't sure if it was despair or exhaustion, or even just cheap whisky.

"So what happened?" he asked quietly.

"We just stared at each other for a minute. He was looking at me like he couldn't believe I'd just said that."

"But you didn't say it," Donny pointed out.

The man shrugged. "I told you, that doesn't matter. Anyway, I left. I had to. He called after me...I didn't stop. Almost bumped into the bastard in the hallway. He was heading back to the apartment. Laughed when he saw me."

"Are you going to go back?" Donny asked.

"Guess I have to," he answered. "I just...I've never had to apologise for something like this. We don't...I don't know what to say."

"Maybe you don't need to say anything," Donny said, staring over the man's shoulder.

The blond guy was standing in the doorway, looking straight at the dark-haired man. Didn't look like he'd got any sleep either. But the look on his face...absolute relief.

The man turned round slowly. He didn't say anything, and a second later the blond guy laid his hand on the man's arm gently and the smiles that Donny could see were brilliant and electrifying.

The blond guy glanced at Donny and nodded, and laid some money down on the bar, and the dark-haired man stood up slowly, and they walked off together without another word.

Donny looked down at his five hundred dollar tip.

He did so love a happy ending.


Thanks for reading, please review.