The sound of bagpipes and guitar chords made Jack's eardrums throb as he dodged groups of his drunken friends as they staggered through the hall. His right hand clutched a beer. He tapped the bottle's neck with his fingernails in anticipation. The hall smelled of pure party, which consisted of alcohol, cigarette smoke, vomit, sweat, with a tint of rubber from condoms. Jack inhaled the scents and coughed, feeling dizzy and smothered, but kept walking until he made it to Spot's dorm room.
"Spot!" he called into the massive crowd of green in front of him. His voice was swallowed by the music of the Dropkick Murphys and shouts of the thrilled high school boarding students. Jack pushed his way through the swarm, knocking cups of whiskey from peoples' hands and tripping over the heels of Converse All-Stars. His lungs felt compressed by the partying teens and he began to feel panicked until someone shoved him against a shaking amplifier. Jack's neck smashed on the edge of the vibrating black metal. In the process of muttering "Fuck!" his teeth clamped down on his tongue.
"Smooth move, Kelly!" said a voice. From its tone Jack could tell the person possessing it was smirking. Jack only knew one person who could inject the expression of his lips into his words.
"Hey Spot," he growled. Jack massaged the back of his neck as he walked away from the amp.
"Sorry 'bout that. I wanted to get your attention," Spot apologized.
"Yeah, that's why there's this thing called communication."
"I've heard of it. Now I'm gonna use it."
"For real?"
"Yeah, get the fuck over here."
Jack sighed and sauntered over to him, trying to avoid getting any puke or beer on his clothes. Spot eyed his buddy's wardrobe and frowned.
"Where's your green?" he asked, upset that Jack was breaking tradition. Jack lifted his shirt to his belly button and lowered his jeans on his hips, revealing a pair of green boxers.
"Happy?"
"You didn't have to show me, you pervert. Didn't we just go over communication?"
"My God, Spot. You're so cheap."
"Your mom is so cheap," Spot joked. "Come on, let's go."
"Go where? You can't leave your own party."
"Sure I can, I'm Spot Conlon. I can do what I want."
"You just don't want to get busted by the school's administrator for having those kegs," Jack said, glancing at the metal barrels in the corner of the room. He smiled as he saw Skittery trying to pour himself some beer, but the keg refused to spit out a drop of the brass colored liquid.
"Maybe. It's getting' too crowded, though. I didn't invite half the people here."
"Whatever. If you wanna leave, I'll come." Jack stared at the bottle of Heineken in his hand. "I don't really feel like waking up next to some girl and having a major hangover."
"Sweet. Meet you at the flagpole, okay? I gotta get my wallet."
"Wicked."
Jack went to the corner of the room, handed his drink to Skittery, and began his voyage out of the room. When he made it to the door, someone tossed a box of Trojans at his head, but Jack ducked before the contraception hit him in the face. He grinned, knowing that Kid Blink had probably thrown them, because he had the worst aim out of all of the boys.
"Hey Jack!"
Sure enough, the smiling eye-patched blonde sprinted over to Jack while trying not to drop any of the boxes.
"I'm not even gonna ask, Blink," Jack laughed.
"No no, listen. Mush and I went out and bought only green ones, right? And we're going to blow them up into balloons and then fill the principal's office with them."
"Um…okay, but don't you need helium for that?"
Right on cue, Mush stumbled over to them, carrying a tank of helium.
"Where do you two come up with this?" Jack asked. Mush shrugged, lifted the tank above his head, and entered the room.
"We don't really have any hobbies," Blink explained.
"I can see that, you crazy bastards…Oh, and the stoners are gonna try and get high off that helium before you can inflate your Irish condom balloons."
Blink ignored the comment, determined to carry out his plan. Jack shook his head and trotted down the hall, then bounded down the steps. He could still hear the pounding vocals of Flogging Molly when he arrived outside. The campus looked empty, since the majority of the kids were either partying or getting wasted at a bar. Jack strolled over to the flagpole and looked up. Four flags were being battered by the wind; one American flag, a state flag, the school flag, and the Irish flag that someone must have put up a few hours before. Jack shivered and regretted not bringing a jacket, but the cold weather was cooling the fever brought on by the party. He heard from behind him and turned around to see Spot running towards him with a bundle under his arm.
"Thought you might want this," Spot said as he flung the bundle at him. Jack caught it and realized it was his jacket, the one with Santa Fe stitched on the back.
"Thanks," Jack said as he thrust his arm into one of the sleeves. "So where are we going exactly? A bar or something?"
"Nope," Spot answered. Jack waited for him to say more, but Spot didn't speak. Jack scowled, but followed Spot as he climbed over the campus gate. The two walked silently down the sidewalk, gladly leaving the chaos of the drunken Irish party. After about ten minutes, Jack had become aggravated with the lack of conversation.
"Spot, have you ever seen The Boondock Saints?" he asked. Again, Spot did not respond. Jack sighed and kept walking. Suddenly Spot stopped and turned to face Jack. Jack took a step back, feeling confused and awkward.
"Ever hear the phrase 'kiss me, I'm Irish'?" Spot asked.
Jack nodded.
"Well, Jacky boy, I'm sure as hell Irish. And I want to see those green boxers again."
The end?
Sorry for the rushed ending, but I wanted to finish the so it could be done in time for St. Patrick's Day (I'm going over to my friend's house so I can't work on it) I'll probably update the ending tomorrow morning, don't worry. It was my first semi-slash and modern day story, and I'm not sure about that style of writing.