As soon as Oliver opened his eyes, he shot up to a sitting position in his bed, exclaiming, "I have a date!" Without reply, he glanced around his pale bedroom, realizing he was by himself. The man pulled the covers to his face, burning pink from his outburst. "Lila, I thought you said you were going to come with me."

A light weight smacked the back of his head. "I am!"

"Oh!" Oliver felt the fairy scramble into his permanent bedhead. He uneasily snickered, "You heard that, didn't you?"

"Yep!" She cheerfully popped the word on her lips. "So what? You have good reasons to be excited! Allen's back, and he is totally fine with seeing you."

"Well," the baker scrunched his blanket in fists, "maybe he asked to meet me so we could only talk-"

"Stop. Stop that. No!"

Oliver laughed pitifully, and peeled away his covers to swing his legs over the bed. "Fine, but we are going to a pub. If you do not want to be in such a squalid place with stinky people, then I understand."

"Nuh-uh! I waited for more than four seasons for this reunion! I am not missing it, gross guys and all!" Lila flew from his hair to land on his dark dresser so he could properly dress himself. "I'm more worried about you getting crazy! I see how that alcohol stuff gets you!"

"Th-That is in the sanctuary of my own home! I will be in public! I know how to behave myself." Oliver held up a bowtie and a ribbon. "Which one?"

"Ribbon, and not the green one. Wear the blue one. Anyway, just because you know how to behave yourself, that does not mean you will."

"Such a sudden distrust in me?" Oliver dropped his bowtie back into the top drawer before shoving it close. Lila crossed her arms and let out a little hmph. He looped the lace around his neck, and curled his nose. "Are you sure? This is what I usually wear."

"Even better! Don't dramatically change yourself; it'll freak him out! I know it would freak me out."

"I guess you're right."

"What are we going to do in the meantime?"

Oliver uncertainly suggested, "Eat cake?"

Lila set her jaw in a thoughtful jut. "Cake is good!"

Somehow chewing his time away in small increments with silly hobbies and straightening anything that was astray in the entire building, Oliver was becoming nauseous from sitting behind the counter. He left a half hour early, assuring the fairy, "The walk is included."

She only laughed, knowing. Happy hour had started, and they hoped it was not too crowded, so they would not be lost in a sea of drunkards. The neon signs were blinking in patterns, enticing outsiders to come inside and drown their sorrows. A pair of other men passed by, glancing at him with curious stares. One of them smirked, and was kind enough to hold the door open. Oliver took to the gesture, about to thank him, but the stranger threw out a hand, roughly slapping his rear. His companion gaffed at the baker's yelp and horrid glare.

Oliver hurried away from the pair, letting Lila to yell after them as he turned sharply toward the booths as they headed to the bar. He plopped himself into the cushions, the seat sighing beneath him. He wiggled around, and exclaimed in disgust as his legs stuck to the sticky material. "This better be worth it," he grumbled, eyes scanning the crowd milling around the main counter. Some merry makers rubbed chalk squares on the end of their pool sticks, but nobody else was lurking close to him. He was alone with the exception of the fairy on his head. She twitched and lightly thrashed.

"I came here a tad early," Oliver admitted, staring down at the pale table. He took a disdainful sniff. The unhygienic crowd must have not come yet to spread themselves, based on the obvious smell of air and carpet fresheners. The bartender gracefully filled and slid drinks left and right; the baker decided to thoughtfully wait until the crowd thinned.

A shapely body moved in front of his vision. Oliver blinked in surprise, looking up to a rather lovely looking woman putting her hands on her hips. "You alone, sweet cheeks? You should join us in the back for a round of billiards."

Lila shot to her feet, still on Oliver's head. "Hey, get back!"

Oliver quietly announced, "Thank you for the offer, but I am waiting for someone."

The lady let out a short, amused snort. "Sure thing, but you know where we are."

He did not watch her strut back to the other side of the bar. Lila huffed, roughly settling back into his hair. "People, I tell you!"

"She was just being friendly," Oliver said, resisting temptations that were below him. "That is hard to come by around here." He glanced at the bar again, and patted the table. "I am going to get something to drink."

"Not too much!" The fairy called out, staying on the surface as if to keep it claimed. Oliver exchanged a quick greeting with the bartender before pulling out a hefty sum for her to keep. She nodded, and kneeled behind the counter to begin his first drink. The other people still lingering about the bar eyed him with apprehensive expressions. He looked anywhere but their faces. Those looks should mean nothing to him as a matured man.

Lila fluttered from the table as Oliver returned. "What's that!"

"It is...oh, does it matter? It is alcohol."

"Can I try?"

Oliver clamped a hand over the top of his squared glass. "Absolutely not! I cannot think of anything worse than a drunk fairy!"

"Not even smelly Frenchmen?"

"Not even smelly Frenchmen."

"What about active volcanoes?"

"I can live with those."

Lila rolled her eyes, settling on the table again, more dejectedly. "Have you even seen a drunk fairy?"

"No, and I do not plan on doing so anytime soon." Oliver lifted the glass, and closed his eyes to the strong liquid crashing into his mouth.

"Easy there!" Lila said when he set the cup down ungently, wincing from the fire running down his throat.

Oliver's eyes watered, "Wow, that is strong."

"Is that bad?"

"No, it is good." Oliver tipped the glass back again, draining the small cup with a few hard gulps. He pulled it back from his face, and a devious smile replaced its presence.

"I do not like that face," Lila muttered. "Remember what you came here for, Ollie."

"It is a bar. You are supposed to drink," the man shot back, rattling the ice sitting on the bottom of the glass. He looked at the bar again, slowly rising out of his seat for a refill.

"Starting the party without me, Ollie?" Someone called from behind him.

A zing ran up the baker's arms as he spun around. "Allen," the name slipped out of his mouth, and so did the cheesy smile. He heard Lila squeal in delight from the table. A careful grin rose to the other man's face, and they stood, facing each other in a quiet moment. Oliver limply gestured to the bar, "Um...drinks?"

"Yeah, drinks," Allen followed after his awkward lurch.

Oliver drew up to the counter, and ran a hand against the side of his head to nonchalantly tame any hair sticking out with little success as the bartender worked on another customer's beverage. He gave a little jump as his company brushed his side and set his arms on the dark surface. Allen seemed puzzled as he gazed down at him. "Howdy."

"Hey," Oliver tittered, the finger entangled in a rope of his hair twirling faster. He realized his hair was getting to be longer than he usually kept it. Either a new cutting appointment was to be scheduled soon, or he could grow it out to see just how-

Allen cleared his throat, his smile uneasy. "I was thinking of a lot of things to say when I got here, but I..." he spread his fingers in a lost motion. "I just can't seem to find anything to say."

"A-are you all right being here?"

"I asked, didn't I?"

Oliver tried to not overdramatically die from that goofy grin. "You did."

The other man shrugged, his sheepskin collar fluffing more with the movement. "As long as I'm with you."

"Are you getting anything?" The bartender was suddenly propped on the bar, glancing between the pair with a permanently lifeless look.

Oliver forced his hands to his sides to cease his nervous movements. "I'll have what I had before."

She turned to Allen, who was squinting at the selection of various bottles running up the wall. "Uh, yeah, I'll just get one of your beers."

"Which one? There's more than seven kinds up there."

"Shit, uh..."

"The second most expensive one," Oliver declared, "and put it on my keep." He grasped his new glass, and headed back to the booth.

"Ollie, wait," Allen called out, but the bartender already set an open bottle on the counter, motioning for him to take it. She turned to tend to other customers, ending that argument. "I could've gotten that."

"You could," Oliver said with a tentative wobble of his head. "However, I am sure juvenile detention had very little financial opportunities, and you must be very limited on cash."

"Damn, you're good!"

"Ew! That stuff smells even grosser!" Lila blew a raspberry from the smell emitting from Allen's bottle, and escaped in Oliver's hair.

He propped a hand beneath his chin, tracing the rim of his glass with the other, and smiled fondly at his company as he guzzled his drink. "What have you been doing in the time you have come back?"

"I haven't been back long. Probably for like..." Allen set down his bottle to count on his fingers. Oliver furrowed his eyebrows as he picked up how strange the other man spoke. He only had one drink down, and apparently was hearing things, unless 'growing up' was not as kind to Allen in sound as it was in looks. "Uh...little more than a week, but less than two."

"Have you seen your brother yet?" Oliver felt how easy it was to slip into conversation with his company, like getting back into a cold pool when one was already soaked from it.

A haunted look passed through Allen's widened eyes. "No...not yet."

The baker took a quick gulp of his own drink, his expression faltering from its sting. "It will only be worse when he finds out you are avoiding him."

"When he finds out? Shit, Ollie, are you with me, or against me?"

Oliver giggled against his glass, warmed despite the ice hitting his mouth. "Where have you been staying for the time being?"

"Ah, well, after I picked up my stuff stored at the House, I crashed at some dump motel. Eugh!" Allen shook his head. "Not going into that. I just been leeching off of pals I been hanging out with." He scooted toward the table a little, drawing in the other's eyes. "What's with Luciano's pals? They said you were their boss when they came after me. I always been kind of freaked out by them."

"They do work for me." Oliver stopped himself from saying something stupid. "They...bring things back to me." He drained his second cup so he would not say anymore about it.

"Hey," Lila warned. "Take it easy."

"Huh," Allen scratched his jaw, looking down at his now empty bottle. He gave it a little shake to collect all the droplets, and tipped it back one last time. "That's cool, I guess."

"Do you want more beer? I am going up there again, anyway."

"If you're offering," he shrugged, then clunk his bottle against Oliver's glass.

The baker's heart did a funny jump at Allen's smile, and he escaped to the bar again. The bartender looked at Oliver in alarm as he roughly stumbled into the counter. "Ah, th-the carpet has no traction," he giggled, swishing a hand in front of his flushed face.

Her eyes narrowed. "More of the usual?"

"Yes, please."

Oliver padded back to the table, setting the glasses on the table in their respective spots. Lila abandoned his head for the wooden surface. It did not jolt and move in such erratic ways.

"Did you do anything interesting when I was gone?"

Oliver felt elated from the little question. "I baked!"

"Really?" Allen raised his eyebrows, glancing from the lines from the condensation on his bottle to the other's proud simper. "Wow."

"Lots, and lots of baking!"

"That's your job, right?"

Oliver vigorously nodded, scrambling his brain. "What..." he tried coming up with a generic question. "What's wrong with your voice?"

Lila shot him a blank look.

"What are you talking about?"

The baker slapped the table by Allen's hand. "You sound like you have a frog down your throat."

"Ribbit." Allen snatched his arm away before he would lose it, and both of them doubled over in laughter. He managed to straighten first, drawing a finger over his eye. "You think I sound funny now? I know I do." He cleared his throat, putting on a constipated expression that made Oliver giggle in confusion. "How 'bout now? Testin', testin', one, two, I can't count."

"Allen!"

Lila directed her sharp looks to said man, as if it was his fault for Oliver's stupid string of laughter. He asked, "So why were you talking like that?"

"When I was 'round all 'em other kids, even your voice was something...ahem, somethin' to get 'em goin'."

"That's awful." Oliver's hands patted the table again for the other's, but Allen kept back with an untriumphed grin. He bent over the table for the fingers curled around a cold bottle. "Ick, your hands are wet."

"So are yours."

Oliver grabbed his own drink, swiping at the water droplets running down the sides. "I need more stuff."

"I don't think so," Lila said, but he scooted out of the bench. He pushed to his feet, and suddenly, it wacked Oliver in the face in gusting whirls. He blinked in surprise, not registering right away that he propped himself on the table he stumbled back again. "See? You are getting funky, Oliver. That should be it for you."

"Belt up," he growled.

Allen dissented as he crookedly sauntered after the bar, "I didn't say anythin', but really..."

Oliver only wiped at the blush on his face, but it did not do anything to ameliorate how sweaty and humid the bar was. He nodded when a new glass was placed in front of him. The skeptical look from the bartender agreed with the fairy, but what did they know? He went back to the booth with a pleased smile. Before he sat back into the seat, he began chugging his new cup.

His company was not impressed. His own smile fell to a concerned look. "Hey, it's gettin' late. D'you wanna go back to the bakery?"

"Hm, no," Oliver did not think it over, and turned around again. He took a step to the bar, his foot landing hard against the carpet, but his other leg did not follow through. He twisted around, and slapped the hand that held him hostage by the belt loop. "Stop that."

"You still gotta walk home."

Lila was in his face. "Come on, Ollie."

Oliver stumbled back, and his calf hit the side of the cushion. His legs were already shaking, eager to buckle beneath him, and he fell onto Allen's lap. The other man hissed from the ungentle collision. "Ow, your ass is bony, babe, uh, Ollie."

The baker giggled madly, almost dropping his glass when he hit the bottom of it against the table, trying to place it on the surface. He leaned against the heat seeping through his clothes. "I missed it when you called me babe."

"Sure thing...babe." The legs underneath him shifted, and moved closer to the edge of the seat.

"What...what are you doing?" Oliver grabbed onto Allen's knees that were exposed by giant rips in his jeans.

"We're leavin' now."

"No, we aren't...hic. I'm still thirsty."

"For what?!" Lila cried out. "Look what that stuff did to you."

"I don't...I don't need you yelling in my ear." A strong hand grabbed one of his, driving him forward to the exits. "Oh," he realized he was on his feet.

The fairy was there to watch the ordeal, even when it did not process through whatever was present instead of Oliver's usually sharp mind and tongue. She was certain even he did not trust his own steps. Thankfully, even though his cheeks were pinked by his own intake, the other man's gait was much more certain than a wobbly toddler's.