Downing his fifth - or was it his tenth? Did it really matter, they were both multiples of five- shot of tequila in the last hour, Alfred smacked his lips and rested his head on the bar. It had only been a day since he fucked around with Ismael, but now that he was plastered he really couldn't care about the fact that he had a cock up his ass. Signalling to the bartender for another, he got it in his hand before pulling out his cell. He had been thinking about just how much of a bitch his brother's ex was, and now he wanted to tell him.

Going through his contact list he managed to find Ismael's number under his brother's contacts (it was just in case he was there, so Alfred could make sure he was ok). Dialling, he waited until the sounds of the answering machine finished and he just let himself ramble. "Hey bastard cock sucker, guess who? Yeah, just wanna let y'know how much of an ass hole you are, ass hole. I bet your fucking some poor blond ass right about now, so you couldn't answer your fucking phone. Fucking queer." With that he raised his glass to his lips and finished the shot with a gasp. "You just wish you were like me, don't ya? Go die of AIDS or something."

Alfred barely remembered closing his phone before he lay his head back on the bar. Just how many bartenders were there anyways? Just as he reached out to hold them still so he could count, his eyes grew heavy and black overtook his senses.

Looking at the guy who was passed out, the bartender poked him. "Hey buddy, come on I have to close up here." But it was no use, this guy had obviously had way too many. He saw a cell phone on the table, so he opened it and found recent calls. Pressing the last number, he waited for the person to pick up.

Peeking out from under his blankets, Ismael glared at his phone. This was the second time it had rung in ten minutes! He grabbed it angrily, wishing they would just let him wallow in peace. "What the hell do you want?" He grumbled into the phone.

"Hello sir, sorry to bother you but there is a guy passed out on my bar and you were the last person he called. Can you come and pick him up?" Hopefully this person would, since he never liked having to house the drunks who passed out.

Grunting, Ismael looked at the caller ID. That number kind of looked familiar... yeah that's right, Matthew sometimes called him on the number. But who would... Oh fuck. "God, you're kidding. Fucking ass hole. Which bar?"

.oOo.

"Thank you, and please make sure he knows not to get this drunk here again." The bartender said as he closed down the bar. It was always so troublesome when people passed out since that meant he couldn't just kick them out.

"No problem. Just wish there was someone else who could deal with him." He picked up the unconscious man, throwing him over his shoulder unceremoniously. He had listened to the message on his phone, unable to believe how drunk he had gotten.

Leaving the bar, he threw Alfred in his back seat, trying to do up his seat belt. What had made it so he was the one who had to take him home? So fucking retarded. Driving the way he knew too well, Ismael parked the car, and went to the back to pick him up again. "You better have your keys." He mumbled, feeling around in Alfred's jacket. Finally he found them, and after a few failed attempts he got the door open.

This place reminded him too much of Matthew. It had always bugged him that they lived together, but of course the blond refused to move out. Walking past Matthew's room, he opened the door to Alfred's, and tossed him on the bed. That was good enough.

On his way out, Ismael passed a bookshelf with a ton of pictures of Matthew. He looked so... happy, looking at Alfred, who was obviously the one taking the pictures. He looked around for a piece of paper and a pen, and quickly scrawled a note on it. He took one of the pictures, leaving the note in the frame, and left.


Sorry for the epic fail chapter. My computer is fail right now, like really really fail. So you will all just have to deal with this, very sorry. Also if I don't reply to your reviews, that is usually the reason. Keep your fingers crossed for my computer!