There's a madness to St. Patrick's Day. The Irish music, the green leprechaun hats, and all the mayhem colliding together in a distraught celebration manages to create a mood that's both happily innocent and primally sexual. He highly doubts all the tourists that come just for the celebration actually know or even care about what the holiday really means. The rush to imbibe before they're forced to go back to work all bright eyed and bushy tailed.

Wanting his own taste of it, Sonny chooses to weave through the crowds, even grabs some green beads when they're tossed from one of the balconies. His ears ring with the blare of bagpipes, the outrageous laughter.

He decided the sight of guys' naked torsos, which a couple of people flash as they take off their shirts, would be a lot less uncomfortable after a few drinks.

So would being grabbed by a complete stranger and having him shove his tongue down his throat. The tongue tastes sweet, the combination of a tropical storm and pure unadulterated lust as it brushes over his.

"Thank you." Sonny finally gets out when he manages to pull away.

"Come back with me." The face painted guy shouts. "Let the good times roll!"

Sonny doesn't particularly feel like letting any good times roll with a complete stranger's tongue in his mouth, and escapes into the erupting crowd.

Maybe he's too old for this, he thinks--or maybe it's just the Chicago soil-- but right now he wants to be somewhere he can sit back and enjoy the view instead of being forced to be a part of it.

The doors to Doug's Place fly open, so the noise from inside pours out, entangled with the noise from the Square. He has to weave his way through the people on the sidewalk, those squished inside, and make his way through to get a spot standing by the bar.

The place is covered with the scent of beer, music and the sound of feet on the floor as people dancing cluster together on the dance floor. Onstage, a bagpipe player belts out such loud notes, Sonny wouldn't be surprised if the thing exploded from too much air.

Will's pouring a draft with one hand, while pouring a shot of Irish whiskey with the other. Two other bartenders are equally busy, and from what he can see, Will has four other waitresses working tables.

Sonny can see his vampire cats looking out from their spot on the shelf behind the bar, and he couldn't be more pleased.

"Beer and a bump." Will says as he slides the glasses into waiting hands. When he sees Sonny, Will holds up one finger, as he serves three more customers as he makes his way over to him.

"What can I get you, hot stuff?"

"You. You're obviously backed up." Sonny adds. "In here and out in the Square."

Will pushes his hair back, the silver key dangling against his sweaty skin as they clash with his green beads. "I can get you a drink, but don't go thinking I have a second to talk, cause I don't."

"Can I help you out?"

Will pushes his hair back again. "With what?"

"Whatever you want."

Someone squeezes their way in, calling out a request for a stout and another draft.

Will reaches behind him for the bottle, shifting to pour the draft. "You know anything about bussing tables, fancy boy?"

"I'm a fast learner."

"See that waiter over there?" Will gestures in the general direction of the chaos. "Tell him you're hired. He'll show you the ropes."

By midnight, he reckons he's carried about half a dozen empty glasses into the kitchen and dumped the equivalent of a landfill of cigars.

He'd had his ass grabbed, stroked and ogled at. What is it with gay guys grabbing other gay guys' asses? Someone should figure that out.

He's completely lost track of how many times he's been propositioned, and really didn't care to think of the big burly guy that had pulled him into his lap.

It was like being wrapped in a three hundred pound grizzly bear soaked in beer.

By two, he's completely amazed by the human tolerance levels for debauchery, and whatever preconceived notions he had about skills and tolerance levels required to work in the food industry, have been promptly abandoned.

The place is still swinging at 3, which makes Sonny decide Will isn't avoiding him after all. Or if he is, he backed it up with a very good reason.

"When's closing time?" Sonny asks as he takes another load towards the kitchen.

"When everyone leaves." Will pours a bottled beer into several plastic cups, handing them out.

"Do they?"

Will smiles, but it's quick and more distracted than anything else as he scans the crowd. "Not so much in an Irish Pub on St. Patrick's Day. Why don't you just go home? We're gonna be stuck here for another hour at least."

"I'm not a quitter."

He carries the empty glasses into the kitchen, right as a trio of incredibly drunk guys--more like neanderthals, Sonny notes--hitting on Will, hard.

And he's handling them just fine, but they weren't letting up.

"If you guys want to last, you should pace yourselves." Will puts a few plastic cups under the taps. "Are you guys driving?"

"Of course not."One of them, wearing a Northwestern T shirt under a mountain of beads, leans in. All the way in. "We got a room up in the city. Why come back with me, handsome? Have us a real good time in the hotel room Jacuzzi."

"That's a really generous offer, but unfortunately I'm currently very busy."

"I'll keep you busy." the guy says, as he grabs his own crotch, has his two friends whistling and whooping.

Sonny moves forward, running a watchful hand over Will's shoulder. "You're currently hitting on my boyfriend." He feels Will stiffen under his hand, watches as the challenge rie up in the Northwestern guy's eyes.

In any other circumstances, Sonny thinks as he sizes the kid up--five eleven, well tones 180--he might be the one to play nice with everyone, save kittens from trees. He might feed the homeless. But right now this guy is just drunk, horny, and a flat out idiot.

As if he's proving Sonny's point, Northwestern hisses, "Go to hell. Or how about we take this outside, so I can kick your ass?"

Sonny's voice is completely good natured. "Now what would be the point of going outside to fight you over him, when all you're doing is admiring my good taste? Amazing, isn't he? If you weren't trying to hit on him, I'd figure your eyes are too drunk to really see anything."

"My eyes are perfect, dumbshit."

"Precisely. Why don't I buy you and your friends a drink? Babe, can you put those on my tab?"

Sonny leans forward in conversation on the bar, nodding at the T shirt. "Holiday break? What's your major?"

Baffled and drunk, Northwestern blinks. "Whaddaya care?"

"Curiosity." Sonny slides a bowl of pretzels closer, taking one.

It's not till well after four when Will lets them into his apartment above the Pub. "Pretty good with the sweet talking with those college drunks. In fact, I'll be nice and not give you hell for the 'my boyfriend' comment."

"You are my boyfriend, you just don't know it yet. And besides, small talk like that is easy."

"Most men would've rolled up their sleeves." Will tosses his keys aside. Gone outside and settled it like men to prove who's ego was bigger." Tired, Will reaches to take off the beads as he studies Sonny. "Must be the CEO in you, with your ability to talk yourself out of a fight."

"The kid wasn't even 23."

"22 last February. I carded all three of them."

"I don't beat up kids. Not to mention, I really don't like getting punched in the face. Hurts like hell." Sonny tips Will's chin up. He looks completely worn out. "Really long shift, huh?"

"Gonna be that way till the excitement dies down. I appreciate you helping me. You held your own."

More than that, Will thinks. The guy had literally fallen right in line with the flow of his pub and made it work. Charmed the customers, put up with the groping, and even avoided a conflict that could've easily escalated by using his words instead of his fists.

The more he gets to know him, Will reflects, the more he wants to know.

There's a madness to St. Patrick's Day. The Irish music, the green leprechaun hats, and all the mayhem colliding together in a distraught celebration manages to create a mood that's both happily innocent and primally sexual. He highly doubts all the tourists that come just for the celebration actually know or even care about what the holiday really means. The rush to imbibe before they're forced to go back to work all bright eyed and bushy tailed.

Wanting his own taste of it, Sonny chooses to weave through the crowds, even grabs some green beads when they're tossed from one of the balconies. His ears ring with the blare of bagpipes, the outrageous laughter.

He decided the sight of guys' naked torsos, which a couple of people flash as they take off their shirts, would be a lot less uncomfortable after a few drinks.

So would being grabbed by a complete stranger and having him shove his tongue down his throat. The tongue tastes sweet, the combination of a tropical storm and pure unadulterated lust as it brushes over his.

"Thank you." Sonny finally gets out when he manages to pull away.

"Come back with me." The face painted guy shouts. "Let the good times roll!"

Sonny doesn't particularly feel like letting any good times roll with a complete stranger's tongue in his mouth, and escapes into the erupting crowd.

Maybe he's too old for this, he thinks--or maybe it's just the Chicago soil-- but right now he wants to be somewhere he can sit back and enjoy the view instead of being forced to be a part of it.

The doors to Doug's Place fly open, so the noise from inside pours out, entangled with the noise from the Square. He has to weave his way through the people on the sidewalk, those squished inside, and make his way through to get a spot standing by the bar.

The place is covered with the scent of beer, music and the sound of feet on the floor as people dancing cluster together on the dance floor. Onstage, a bagpipe player belts out such loud notes, Sonny wouldn't be surprised if the thing exploded from too much air.

Will's pouring a draft with one hand, while pouring a shot of Irish whiskey with the other. Two other bartenders are equally busy, and from what he can see, Will has four other waitresses working tables.

Sonny can see his vampire cats looking out from their spot on the shelf behind the bar, and he couldn't be more pleased.

"Beer and a bump." Will says as he slides the glasses into waiting hands. When he sees Sonny, Will holds up one finger, as he serves three more customers as he makes his way over to him.

"What can I get you, hot stuff?"

"You. You're obviously backed up." Sonny adds. "In here and out in the Square."

Will pushes his hair back, the silver key dangling against his sweaty skin as they clash with his green beads. "I can get you a drink, but don't go thinking I have a second to talk, cause I don't."

"Can I help you out?"

Will pushes his hair back again. "With what?"

"Whatever you want."

Someone squeezes their way in, calling out a request for a stout and another draft.

Will reaches behind him for the bottle, shifting to pour the draft. "You know anything about bussing tables, fancy boy?"

"I'm a fast learner."

"See that waiter over there?" Will gestures in the general direction of the chaos. "Tell him you're hired. He'll show you the ropes."

By midnight, he reckons he's carried about half a dozen empty glasses into the kitchen and dumped the equivalent of a landfill of cigars.

He'd had his ass grabbed, stroked and ogled at. What is it with gay guys grabbing other gay guys' asses? Someone should figure that out.

He's completely lost track of how many times he's been propositioned, and really didn't care to think of the big burly guy that had pulled him into his lap.

It was like being wrapped in a three hundred pound grizzly bear soaked in beer.

By two, he's completely amazed by the human tolerance levels for debauchery, and whatever preconceived notions he had about skills and tolerance levels required to work in the food industry, have been promptly abandoned.

The place is still swinging at 3, which makes Sonny decide Will isn't avoiding him after all. Or if he is, he backed it up with a very good reason.

"When's closing time?" Sonny asks as he takes another load towards the kitchen.

"When everyone leaves." Will pours a bottled beer into several plastic cups, handing them out.

"Do they?"

Will smiles, but it's quick and more distracted than anything else as he scans the crowd. "Not so much in an Irish Pub on St. Patrick's Day. Why don't you just go home? We're gonna be stuck here for another hour at least."

"I'm not a quitter."

He carries the empty glasses into the kitchen, right as a trio of incredibly drunk guys--more like neanderthals, Sonny notes--hitting on Will, hard.

And he's handling them just fine, but they weren't letting up.

"If you guys want to last, you should pace yourselves." Will puts a few plastic cups under the taps. "Are you guys driving?"

"Of course not."One of them, wearing a Northwestern T shirt under a mountain of beads, leans in. All the way in. "We got a room up in the city. Why come back with me, handsome? Have us a real good time in the hotel room Jacuzzi."

"That's a really generous offer, but unfortunately I'm currently very busy."

"I'll keep you busy." the guy says, as he grabs his own crotch, has his two friends whistling and whooping.

Sonny moves forward, running a watchful hand over Will's shoulder. "You're currently hitting on my boyfriend." He feels Will stiffen under his hand, watches as the challenge rie up in the Northwestern guy's eyes.

In any other circumstances, Sonny thinks as he sizes the kid up--five eleven, well tones 180--he might be the one to play nice with everyone, save kittens from trees. He might feed the homeless. But right now this guy is just drunk, horny, and a flat out idiot.

As if he's proving Sonny's point, Northwestern hisses, "Go to hell. Or how about we take this outside, so I can kick your ass?"

Sonny's voice is completely good natured. "Now what would be the point of going outside to fight you over him, when all you're doing is admiring my good taste? Amazing, isn't he? If you weren't trying to hit on him, I'd figure your eyes are too drunk to really see anything."

"My eyes are perfect, dumbshit."

"Precisely. Why don't I buy you and your friends a drink? Babe, can you put those on my tab?"

Sonny leans forward in conversation on the bar, nodding at the T shirt. "Holiday break? What's your major?"

Baffled and drunk, Northwestern blinks. "Whaddaya care?"

"Curiosity." Sonny slides a bowl of pretzels closer, taking one.

It's not till well after four when Will lets them into his apartment above the Pub. "Pretty good with the sweet talking with those college drunks. In fact, I'll be nice and not give you hell for the 'my boyfriend' comment."

"You are my boyfriend, you just don't know it yet. And besides, small talk like that is easy."

"Most men would've rolled up their sleeves." Will tosses his keys aside. Gone outside and settled it like men to prove who's ego was bigger." Tired, Will reaches to take off the beads as he studies Sonny. "Must be the CEO in you, with your ability to talk yourself out of a fight."

"The kid wasn't even 23."

"22 last February. I carded all three of them."

"I don't beat up kids. Not to mention, I really don't like getting punched in the face. Hurts like hell." Sonny tips Will's chin up. He looks completely worn out. "Really long shift, huh?"

"Gonna be that way till the excitement dies down. I appreciate you helping me. You held your own."

More than that, Will thinks. The guy had literally fallen right in line with the flow of his pub and made it work. Charmed the customers, put up with the groping, and even avoided a conflict that could've easily escalated by using his words instead of his fists.

The more he gets to know him, Will reflects, the more he wants to know.

There's a madness to St. Patrick's Day. The Irish music, the green leprechaun hats, and all the mayhem colliding together in a distraught celebration manages to create a mood that's both happily innocent and primally sexual. He highly doubts all the tourists that come just for the celebration actually know or even care about what the holiday really means. The rush to imbibe before they're forced to go back to work all bright eyed and bushy tailed.

Wanting his own taste of it, Sonny chooses to weave through the crowds, even grabs some green beads when they're tossed from one of the balconies. His ears ring with the blare of bagpipes, the outrageous laughter.

He decided the sight of guys' naked torsos, which a couple of people flash as they take off their shirts, would be a lot less uncomfortable after a few drinks.

So would being grabbed by a complete stranger and having him shove his tongue down his throat. The tongue tastes sweet, the combination of a tropical storm and pure unadulterated lust as it brushes over his.

"Thank you." Sonny finally gets out when he manages to pull away.

"Come back with me." The face painted guy shouts. "Let the good times roll!"

Sonny doesn't particularly feel like letting any good times roll with a complete stranger's tongue in his mouth, and escapes into the erupting crowd.

Maybe he's too old for this, he thinks--or maybe it's just the Chicago soil-- but right now he wants to be somewhere he can sit back and enjoy the view instead of being forced to be a part of it.

The doors to the Brady Pub fly open, so the noise from inside pours out, entangled with the noise from the Square. He has to weave his way through the people on the sidewalk, those squished inside, and make his way through to get a spot standing by the bar.

The place is covered with the scent of beer, music and the sound of feet on the floor as people dancing cluster together on the dance floor. Onstage, a bagpipe player belts out such loud notes, Sonny wouldn't be surprised if the thing exploded from too much air.

Will's pouring a draft with one hand, while pouring a shot of Irish whiskey with the other. Two other bartenders are equally busy, and from what he can see, Will has four other waitresses working tables.

Sonny can see his vampire cats looking out from their spot on the shelf behind the bar, and he couldn't be more pleased.

"Beer and a bump." Will says as he slides the glasses into waiting hands. When he sees Sonny, Will holds up one finger, as he serves three more customers as he makes his way over to him.

"What can I get you, hot stuff?"

"You. You're obviously backed up." Sonny adds. "In here and out in the Square."

Will pushes his hair back, the silver key dangling against his sweaty skin as they clash with his green beads. "I can get you a drink, but don't go thinking I have a second to talk, cause I don't."

"Can I help you out?"

Will pushes his hair back again. "With what?"

"Whatever you want."

Someone squeezes their way in, calling out a request for a stout and another draft.

Will reaches behind him for the bottle, shifting to pour the draft. "You know anything about bussing tables, fancy boy?"

"I'm a fast learner."

"See that waiter over there?" Will gestures in the general direction of the chaos. "Tell him you're hired. He'll show you the ropes."

By midnight, he reckons he's carried about half a dozen empty glasses into the kitchen and dumped the equivalent of a landfill of cigars.

He'd had his ass grabbed, stroked and ogled at. What is it with gay guys grabbing other gay guys' asses? Someone should figure that out.

He's completely lost track of how many times he's been propositioned, and really didn't care to think of the big burly guy that had pulled him into his lap.

It was like being wrapped in a three hundred pound grizzly bear soaked in beer.

By two, he's completely amazed by the human tolerance levels for debauchery, and whatever preconceived notions he had about skills and tolerance levels required to work in the food industry, have been promptly abandoned.

The place is still swinging at 3, which makes Sonny decide Will isn't avoiding him after all. Or if he is, he backed it up with a very good reason.

"When's closing time?" Sonny asks as he takes another load towards the kitchen.

"When everyone leaves." Will pours a bottled beer into several plastic cups, handing them out.

"Do they?"

Will smiles, but it's quick and more distracted than anything else as he scans the crowd. "Not so much in an Irish Pub on St. Patrick's Day. Why don't you just go home? We're gonna be stuck here for another hour at least."

"I'm not a quitter."

He carries the empty glasses into the kitchen, right as a trio of incredibly drunk guys--more like neanderthals, Sonny notes--hitting on Will, hard.

And he's handling them just fine, but they weren't letting up.

"If you guys want to last, you should pace yourselves." Will puts a few plastic cups under the taps. "Are you guys driving?"

"Of course not."One of them, wearing a Northwestern T shirt under a mountain of beads, leans in. All the way in. "We got a room up in the city. Why come back with me, handsome? Have us a real good time in the hotel room Jacuzzi."

"That's a really generous offer, but unfortunately I'm currently very busy."

"I'll keep you busy." the guy says, as he grabs his own crotch, has his two friends whistling and whooping.

Sonny moves forward, running a watchful hand over Will's shoulder. "You're currently hitting on my boyfriend." He feels Will stiffen under his hand, watches as the challenge rie up in the Northwestern guy's eyes.

In any other circumstances, Sonny thinks as he sizes the kid up--five eleven, well tones 180--he might be the one to play nice with everyone, save kittens from trees. He might feed the homeless. But right now this guy is just drunk, horny, and a flat out idiot.

As if he's proving Sonny's point, Northwestern hisses, "Go to hell. Or how about we take this outside, so I can kick your ass?"

Sonny's voice is completely good natured. "Now what would be the point of going outside to fight you over him, when all you're doing is admiring my good taste? Amazing, isn't he? If you weren't trying to hit on him, I'd figure your eyes are too drunk to really see anything."

"My eyes are perfect, dumbshit."

"Precisely. Why don't I buy you and your friends a drink? Babe, can you put those on my tab?"

Sonny leans forward in conversation on the bar, nodding at the T shirt. "Holiday break? What's your major?"

Baffled and drunk, Northwestern blinks. "Whaddaya care?"

"Curiosity." Sonny slides a bowl of pretzels closer, taking one.

It's not till well after four when Will lets them into his apartment above the Pub. "Pretty good with the sweet talking with those college drunks. In fact, I'll be nice and not give you hell for the 'my boyfriend' comment."

"You are my boyfriend, you just don't know it yet. And besides, small talk like that is easy."

"Most men would've rolled up their sleeves." Will tosses his keys aside. Gone outside and settled it like men to prove who's ego was bigger." Tired, Will reaches to take off the beads as he studies Sonny. "Must be the CEO in you, with your ability to talk yourself out of a fight."

"The kid wasn't even 23."

"22 last February. I carded all three of them."

"I don't beat up kids. Not to mention, I really don't like getting punched in the face. Hurts like hell." Sonny tips Will's chin up. He looks completely worn out. "Really long shift, huh?"

"Gonna be that way till the excitement dies down. I appreciate you helping me. You held your own."

More than that, Will thinks. The guy had literally fallen right in line with the flow of his pub and made it work. Charmed the customers, put up with the groping, and even avoided a conflict that could've easily escalated by using his words instead of his fists.

The more he gets to know him, Will reflects, the more he wants to know.

Will pulls an envelope out of his back pocket.

"What's this?"

"Your hourly wage."

"Seriously? I'm not taking your money, Will."

"You worked, now I'm paying you. I'm not a freeloader." Will practically shoves the envelope into Sonny's hands. "This is completely off the books, though. Don't feel like going through the paperwork."

"Fine, fine." Sonny stuffs the envelope into his own pocket. He's just gonna spend it on Will anyway.

"Now comes the part where I give you a generous tip." Will wraps his arms around Sonny's neck sliding his body up against his. Eyes wide open, Will lightly bites Sonny's lip, moving in for a kiss.

Sonny's hands go down Will's sides, hooking under Will's hips, then hitches them so they're wrapping around his legs. "Lean on me."

"Oh god, yes."

Sonny nuzzles Will's neck, his ear, working his way back to his mouth as he leads WIll to the bed. "You got any idea what I'm gonna do to you?"

Lust is just right under the surface, next to the relief of not having his full weight on his feet. "I have a very good idea."

Sonny lays him down on the bed, practically hears Will's sigh of relief at not being vertical. He pulls off one shoe. "I'm gonna give you something every gay guy wants." Sonny tosses the shoe aside, then climbs into bed to remove the other.

Tired or not, Will's definitely in a wicked mood. "A shopping spree at Tilly's?"

"Better." Sonny traces a finger over the arch of his thighs. "A foot massage."

"A-a what?"

Smiling, Sonny flexes Will's foot, starting with the toes, watching as Will's eyes go blurry from pleasure.

"Ugggh. Sonny, you seriously have some magic fingers."

"Let yourself relax and enjoy it. The Kiriakis House Special is world renowned. We also offer an extended package that gets you the full body."

"I'll bet you do."

The worst of Will's muscle cramps disappear. As Sonny works his way up to Will's calves, the overworked muscles quiver with equal parts pain and anticipation.

"Do you give yourself any time off after St. Patrick's?"

Will had started to nod off, struggling to stay focused when he hears Sonny speak. "I take the next two days off."

"Slacker." Sonny places a lazy kiss on Will's knee. "Here, let me help you take your clothes off."

Sonny unbuttons Will's jeans first, so Will lifts his hips, stretching lazily. Sonny's pretty sure Will has no idea how husky his voice is, or how slurred his words are. "Where else are you planning to rub me down, huh?"

Sonny treats himself to rubbing Will's nipples, enjoying Will's quick response when he plays with his hair, meets Sonny's lips with his. Sonny pulls his shirt up and off, yanking off the undershirt. Kisses his way down to his nipples while Will arches his back in offering.

Sonny then proceeds to flip Will over to his stomach, making him jerk and groan, before practically collapsing when he feels Sonny knead his neck shoulders. "Had a feeling." Sonny tells him. "All the tension is right here. Same goes for me."

"Sweet Jesus." If Will could only have one wish right this second, it would be for Sonny to keep up his ministrations all week long. "Anyone ever tell you you could make a pretty penny with those hands?"

"It's my fallback career, actually. You've got quite a few serious knots up here. Have no fear, Dr. Sonny is in."

"I love playing doctor."

Will waits for Sonny's tone to drop all pretenses, for his hands to get more rough. He may be sweet now, Will thinks, but he's still just a man.

He'll just take a little siesta, and Sonny can just wake him up himself.