Disclaimer: I do not own Home Movies.


"C'mon, Lynch," Coach John McGuirk begs, one day, after soccer practice has let out, "just a couple drinks." By this point, he and Ronald Lynch—one of the fourth grade teachers—have grown rather close, despite how different they are, and how immensely those differences rub each other the wrong way. "I'll even pay," McGuirk says, though he doesn't really plan on it. To the contrary, he actually plans on having Lynch pay for the drinks, which happens to be half the reason he even thought to ask Lynch to accompany him to the bar.

"Fine," Lynch finally relents, with an exasperated sigh. "Just a couple."

"Cool, see ya there, buddy!" McGuirk half-heartedly waves over his shoulder, as he heads to his own car, which is considerably more rundown.


Less than five minutes later, the pair have met up at a local bar, where they now order drinks. Naturally, Lynch decides upon some fruity concoction, with a tiny umbrella, while McGuirk settles for his self-proclaimed "manly beer." For a while, they just shoot the shit, and make their typical, witty banter, until Lynch takes one of their comfortable silences, as an opportunity to ask McGuirk about his recent breakup with the mother of one of their students.

For the past year, McGuirk has been in a relationship with Paula Small, whose child, McGuirk has always considered a son. Even now, that Paula has broken up with McGuirk, the latter still plays the roll of Brendon's father figure, since the boy's biological father is rarely around.

"Eh." McGuirk shrugs, because he doesn't know what to say, other than, "It just didn't work out."

"I'm sorry," Lynch says sympathetically, placing a comforting hand on the stocky, overweight redhead's shoulder. "It's probably for the best, though, if you couldn't make it work."

"Yeah, probably." McGuirk sighs. "Sometimes, I just feel like kind of a loser. I mean, I'm practically broke... I can't keep a girlfriend... Hell, I can barely even coach my team."

Lynch takes a moment to consider his words, since he honestly can't deny any of McGuirk's self-deprecating observations. "You have plenty of good qualities," he finally settles upon, though he sounds rather unconvinced by his own statement.

"Oh, yeah, like what?" McGuirk wonders, as he tips his head back, and pounds more of his beer.

"Well..." Lynch sips his own drink, in contemplation, and absently twirls his curly, blonde mustache. "You're actually kinda fun to be around," he admits, to McGuirk's apparent surprise. "I mean it, you really know how to have yourself a good time. It's hard not to enjoy myself, as well, when you drag me along, on your misadventures."

"Wow, uh," McGuirk self-consciously rubs the back of his neck, "thank you, I guess...?" If Lynch isn't mistaken, a hint of blush suddenly can also be seen on the redhead's cheeks, which makes for a pretty cute sight, considering the latter's abrasive personality.

Naturally, such an observation triggers a memory that both Lynch and McGuirk have swept under their figurative carpets.

"Just being honest." Lynch shrugs, taking another sip of his drink, and trying not to think about their trip to Mexico; or how he drunkenly kissed McGuirk, that first night, after the latter had practically carried the former back to their hotel room; or especially how McGuirk less drunkenly kissed back, before pushing Lynch away, with the empty threat of a fist to the blonde's face.

The next day, neither even brought up the event, and the rest of their trip was totally awkward. Only on the way back, did McGuirk finally allude to the situation, by stupidly warning Lynch that, "What happens in Mexico, stays in Mexico."

Since then, Lynch has been weary about drinking too much around McGuirk, which honestly was over half the reason the former was hesitant to accompany the latter, today, in the first place. If they're not careful, they may repeat the same mistake.

Well, Lynch may, anyway.

Honestly, he doesn't understand what exactly he sees in this unsophisticated, undereducated, out-of-shape man, who can sometimes be considered the stereotypical bully of a jock, to Lynch's nerdy self. He supposes that they simply share a weird connection.

Coincidentally, as soon as he thinks this, ELO's "Strange Magic," starts to play from the jukebox.

"Hey, I love this song!" McGuirk exclaims. "You know what we should do?" He asks rhetorically, before answering his own question, in the same breath, "We should sing karaoke!"

"I'll pass," Lynch deadpans, because he's honestly not a very good singer, and would only embarrass himself.

"C'mon, we'll sing a duet!" He facepalms, at McGuirk's ridiculous suggestion. "It'll be fun!"

"I beg to differ."

"Hey, you're the one who said that I always get you to enjoy yourself."

"Yeah, and embarrass myself, in the process," Lynch quips.

"Just one song?!" McGuirk actually gives him puppy dog eyes.

"Jeez, you're persistent." For what feels like the dozenth time, today, while in his co-worker's presence, Lynch lets out an exasperated sigh. "Fine," he reluctantly agrees, "but just one song."


Five songs later, Lynch and McGuirk finally returned to the bar, where the latter proceeds to drink, until he drunkenly cries on the former's shoulder, about his failed relationship with Paula.

"Okay, I think we oughta get you home," Lynch says, hopping down from his bar stool.

"Nah," McGuirk dismissively waves him off, "I can keep goin', all night!"

"We have work, tomorrow," Lynch reminds his co-worker. "Thank you, for the drinks, though."

"Speaking of which," McGuirk says, "I don't have enough money to pay for these."

Lynch pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration, before producing the wallet from his pocket, and paying for his one drink, plus all McGuirk's. "Let's go, now," he insists, helping McGuirk to his feet, since the latter's legs are too wobbly. "I'll give you a ride back to your place, and you can deal with your car, tomorrow."

"How will I get to work?" McGuirk asks, allowing himself to lean some of his weight on Lynch, and be half-carried out of the bar, into the parking lot.

"Take a cab." Lynch unlocks his car, and opens the passenger door, for McGuirk to hop into. "Buckle up, buddy." He closes the door, and walks around to the driver's side, to take his place behind the wheel. "Alright, here we go..."

"Thanks, Lynch," McGuirk slurs, leaning his head against the window, in his sleepy state. "You're a real pal."

"Don't worry about it," Lynch says, pulling out of the parking lot, and turning down the street.

"Your mustache is funny." McGuirk suddenly reaches out, to twirl Lynch's mustache around his finger.

"Don't disturb me, while I'm driving, McGuirk." Lynch swats his friend's hand away, feeling his face grow hot, at the drunken gesture.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" McGuirk asks rhetorically, before following up with his actual question. "Are you gay?"

Lynch's eyes widen, as they temporarily leave the road, and lock onto McGuirk's. "Why do you ask?" The blonde nervously questions, with his eyes back on the road, and his face suddenly beat red.

"Because, you kissed me, that one time," McGuirk says, apparently able to address the situation, in his current stupor.

"Well, I was really drunk, McGuirk," Lynch says simply, hoping that'll satisfy his friend. Apparently, it does, at least for now, because the redhead doesn't speak for the rest of the drive.

"Hey, do you wanna come inside?" McGuirk asks, once they're parked outside his shabby apartment. "We can have a couple more drinks. Maybe prank call principal Plum."

Lynch can't help but laugh at the last suggestion, but says, "I should probably get home," because he honestly should've already been home, a couple hours ago.

"Suit yourself." McGuirk unbuckles his seatbelt, opens the car door, and clumsily stumbles out.

"Let me help you inside," Lynch offers, quickly unbuckling his own seatbelt, hopping out of the car, and heading around to the other side.

"Thanks, buddy," McGuirk slurs, taking wobbly steps toward his apartment, which he manages to unlock with some difficulty.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Lynch says, turning away from McGuirk, who suddenly spins the former back around, and smashes their lips together. In surprise, Lynch's eyes widen, but eventually flutter shut, as he reciprocates the kiss. "Why did you do that?" He wonders, once their lips have parted.

"Honestly, I don't know," McGuirk admits, playing again with Lynch's curly mustache, which causes the latter to profusely blush. "Maybe, because you annoy the hell out of me," he says, though what he really means, is that, maybe the reason Lynch annoys the hell of him, in the first place, is because he's always been subconsciously attracted to the pretentious blonde.

"That makes sense," Lynch says sarcastically, though he understands McGuirk's reasoning, if only because he himself can relate to it.

"So, you wanna come in, or what?" McGuirk makes his final offer.

"Yeah, why not?"