Tight Jeans and Other Dangerous Things

by Bliss

"Hey Denny," Mark greets his roommate as he enters the local bar, limping slightly and speaking as though he hadn't seen him in weeks instead of just this morning.

"Hey Mark," Dennis nods at him.

Dennis takes a draw on his beer and watches Mark approach the bar from his vantagepoint at a tattered booth in the back of the bar. The red vinyl of the seats is cracked, stuffing protruding in places. It's one of those half circle booths that require everyone to stand if just one person needs to get up and use the can. But it's where they've always sat, underneath the fading photograph of Veronica Lake, smiling down upon them like an angel.

Always the first to arrive, Dennis is seated at the halfway point of the booth. A deck of playing cards sits to the right of his beer, just waiting to be shuffled. Mark picks up his beer after flirting unnecessarily with the graying bartender and heads over to the booth with a huge grin on his face. Dennis tries not to smirk as Mark slides in next to him, sitting close even though they're the only ones sitting in the booth.

"Scoot over man, you're practically sittin' in my fucking lap," Dennis laughs and playfully elbows Mark in the ribs.

He jars Mark's arm, which causes some of his beer to spill out of its bottle. Mark stares forlornly at the puddle of amber liquid on the dark scratched wood of the table until Dennis sighs and wipes it up with a napkin. Satisfied, Mark scoots over, but only slightly.

"Happy now?" Mark mutters sarcastically, but there's a hint of humor in his voice that tells Dennis he isn't upset in the least.

"Actually," Dennis grins widely, "I'm very happy."

"And why would that be?" Mark asks before realization dawns on him and his eyes widen, "You didn't!"

"I did," Dennis confirms.

"Shit," Mark shakes his head, "Steve is goin' to kill you and I just might help him."

"Awwww... come on man. They haven't seen each other in a year now. They can't still be mad with one another," Dennis says, but frowns in uncertainty.

"You know damn well they still can," Mark drawls and takes a swig of his beer, "Hell, Steve's still holding a grudge against my sister and they haven't seen each other in the same amount of time."

"Yeah, but that's only 'cause she done left and took the kids," Dennis denies, "'Sides, he's mostly over that. He doesn't curse her name anymore."

"Yeah, yeah," Mark sighs in dismissal of the topic; "You ride here on your bike?"

"Nah, I left it at the house. You?"

"Drove mine here. Damn foreman wouldn't let go at the fuckin' whistle. I swear if I wasn't makin' money hand over fist workin' for that damn bastard, I'd shove one of them pipes up his ass."

"Now then how would you support me darlin'?" Dennis teases with a laugh.

"Fuck off," Mark shoots back before succumbing to laughter as well.

"What the fuck is so funny?" Glenn interrupts their laughter as he slides in next to Mark.

"Nothin'," Dennis shakes his head, trying to catch his breath.

"That your Harley outside Mark?" Glenn asks the big man, nudging him lightly to stop him from laughing.

"You fuckin' know it is Glenn," Mark rolls his eyes once he's stopped laughing.

"Dennis drivin' it home?" Glenn asks, a serious expression on his face.

"Hell no Denny ain't touching my bike," Mark says, staring at his beer bottle to avoid Glenn's reproachful glare.

"Don't worry about it Glenn," Dennis shakes his head in warning at Glenn.

Glenn opens his mouth to protest and then thinks the better of it, and gets up to go to the bar. Mark watches him through the curtain of his red hair and then turns back to his beer bottle, refusing to look up. Dennis sighs loudly, internally cursing Glenn out for bringing up such a sore point. The night Mark crashed his bike after drinking too much flashes through is mind in a haze. He and Mark getting into an argument at the bar, Mark pissed off driving away on his bike, Dennis chasing after him on his, Mark crashing into a light pole, Dennis hearing twin screams of pain and agony, not realizing that one of the screams was his own. Then kneeling down next to Mark, feeling Mark's blood seep into the fabric of his jeans as Mark called out for him his eyes glassy with pain, his leg twisted around the Harley.

"Thanks," Mark murmurs after a moment, but still won't look up.

"Hey," Dennis says softly and reaches out to brush Mark's hair away from his face.

His hands shake and Mark twists his head away, tossing his hair back as he offers Dennis a reluctant albeit brilliant smile. Dennis smiles back, a look of understanding passing between them. After the accident, Mark was out of work for months, barely able to walk. He lived in a dumpy apartment all by himself, on the third floor no less. In a fit of guilt, Dennis offered Mark a room in the house that had been bequeathed to him when his mother had passed away years before. It had taken a lot of coaxing, but eventually Mark had given in, allowing Dennis to take care of him. Surprisingly, even when Mark was able to work again, he didn't move out and Dennis didn't ask him to. The idea never crossed either of their minds.

"Well, well, well, if it ain't Calloway and his bitch," Steve interrupts, flashing them a wide grin that indicates he's only teasing.

"At least I have a bitch instead of just livin' with one," Mark smiles innocently, playfully wrapping an arm around Dennis, who flushes scarlet.

"You're a fuckin' laugh riot today Calloway," Steve rolls his eyes.

"You know it baby," Mark winks at him, releasing Dennis.

"Williams!" Glenn calls out from the bar, "Get your ass over here."

"Looks like your bitch is callin' you," Dennis laughs.

Steve gives him the finger before striding over to the bar, slapping Glenn hard across the back. Glenn cuffs his head playfully before ordering another beer from the long-suffering bartender.

"What the fuck you want Glenn?" Steve asks, "I just saw you five fuckin' minutes ago at the plant."

"You see Mark's bike outside?" Glenn asks quietly, glancing worriedly over his shoulder to the booth.

"Yeah, so?" Steve shrugs.

"He shouldn't be riding it at all with his leg, much less piss drunk."

"You worry too fuckin' much. You think Dennis is going to let him drive home drunk ever again? 'Sides, they only live a few blocks from here. Don't worry about," Steve appeases, taking his beer, "What you should be worried about is the five bucks you owe me."

"Five bucks?" Glenn frowns.

"Yeah, remember 'bout five months back you said I'd never get the boss to swear and I bet you five bucks I would," Steve smiles, "And today he did. He said 'fuck' right after I told him number seven would have to be shut down for repairs."

"Fuck," Glenn sighs and pulls out his wallet, "How the fuck can you remember something that took place five months ago, but you can't remember your wife's birthday?"

"Simple," Steve laughs, "My wife's birthday involves me losing money and a bet with you involves gaining money."

"You're a cold-hearted bastard Steve," Glenn shakes his head but hands over a five dollar bill.

"You been talkin' to her again?" Steve raises his eyebrows, "Hell, she barely let's me out of the house anymore. Teach me to forget to come home on her birthday."

"Of course I've talked to her," Glenn sighs, "Our wives are sisters, remember? And when you go fucking off with Mark and Dennis every other weekend to the track, I get to spend the evening playing bridge and listenin' to them bitch."

"Well shit, why don't you come with us then?"

"Because I have a mortgage to pay asshole. I can't afford to spend half my paycheck drinkin' beer and watchin' stock cars."

"Fuck you. Like I don't? It's all about money management."

"And taking bribes from the fuckin' Teamsters."

"Hey!" Steve growls angrily, "You don't fuckin' talk that way. You're just a fuckin' free rider."

"Fuck off," Glenn mutters before stalking back to the booth.

Steve glares hotly after him, ignoring the sympathetic nods from some of his fellow Teamsters. He had never liked Glenn, even though they had been friends since high school. Glenn was an outsider to the group, a hanger on from the old days. He got along well enough with Dennis but hell; everyone got along with Dennis. He and Mark tolerated each other, but in reality Glenn was the loner of their little group. Steve tossed the five-dollar bill onto the bar and stalked back to the table, taking his usual seat next to Dennis. He studiously ignored Glenn, despite the fact that he had promised to his wife just that morning to try and get along better with his sister-in-law's husband.

"So, what we playin'?" Dennis asks, shuffling the deck of cards, breaking the moment of silence.

"Somethin' that don't involve money," Glenn suggests, avoiding Steve's smug smile.

"What?" Mark smirks, "Like strip poker? No one wants to see your ass."

"Not even his wife," Steve smirks.

"Hey that's enough," Dennis shakes his head, trying to hide a smile.

"You're one to talk Williams," Glenn sneers, "You and Debra ain't had sex since the honeymoon."

Within seconds, Steve is sprawled across the table, his hands wrapped around Glenn's neck. Glenn knocks him off to the floor, where the fight continues while Dennis shuffles the cards before setting them out for a game of Speed between him and Mark. They play two rounds of the game, ignoring the table being jarred ever so often by the two men wrestling on the dirty floor.

Everyone either watches or ignores the fight until the bell over the door jingles and a blonde man dressed in a very expensive suit walks in. Several of the Teamsters tear their eyes from the fight and frown at the newcomer.

"I think you're in the wrong place son," one of them speaks up.

"This is still Teehan's, right?" the man frowns.

At the sound of his voice, Steve stops punching Glenn and whips his head around to the door. He freezes at the sight of the blonde man, and Glenn easily shoves him off his chest, where he had been sitting on Glenn to hold him down during the fight. Steve lands to the side in a sprawl, looking straight up into the blonde man's eyes with a mix of hatred and confusion.

"Paul?" Dennis asks as he slides out of the booth, gingerly stepping over Glenn and Steve before holding out his hand.

"Dennis," Paul smiles and pulls him into a brief hug.

"Come on, sit down," Dennis guides him over to the table.

In the meantime, Glenn had collected himself enough to sit back in his normal seat. But Steve is still sprawled on the floor. Dennis steps over him without a second thought, but Paul stops and holds out his hand to Steve. Narrowing his eyes, Steve shrugs him off and stands up.

"Steve," Paul says quietly in greeting.

"Paul," Steve mumbles gruffly before sliding back into the booth.

"We playin' cards or not boys?" Mark asks.

"Sit down Paul, he ain't gonna bite you," Glenn smiles at Paul while Steve sulks.

"Yeah, okay, sure," Paul nods before sliding in next to Steve, sitting as far away as possible without falling out of the booth.

"Are we done playin' musical chairs?" Mark raises his eyebrows at the group, "'Cause I coulda stayed home and watched TGIF."

"TGIF?" Glenn gasps, trying to stop himself from laughing.

"Denny and I happen to enjoy--"

"Denny?" Paul interrupts in disbelief.

"Short for Dennis," Mark blinks at him before continuing, "watching that show, whatisitcalled?"

"CSI?" Dennis answers, seemingly very embarrassed.

"That's it!" Mark nods and pats Dennis on the back.

"Cards?" Steve reminds them.

Dennis blinks before shuffling the deck and dealing out for poker. They play several hands in relative silence, expect for an occasional outburst between Glenn and Steve, until Dennis gets up the nerve to start an actual conversation.

"So, Paul," Dennis coughs slightly, "What you been up to?"

"Me?" Paul looks startled, "Just work."

"I heard you was a lawyer," Mark says.

"Yeah. You always were the smart one out of us," Glenn adds with a smile, "I bet you make a lot of money."

"Well," Paul ducks his head slightly; "I do all right."

A brief moment of silence passes while Dennis shuffles the cards again. Steve, who hasn't spoke to Paul except for a brief greeting, stares at his beer bottle, ignoring the fact that Paul is covertly glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. Mark and Glenn seem to be oblivious to the tension between the two, while Dennis observes it with a frown. He watches Paul's right hand hover close to Steve, like he wants to touch him and thus notices the gold band on Paul's right ring finger.

"When did ya get hitched?" Dennis asks Paul as he deals out the cards, nodding toward the ring.

"Oh," Paul clears his throat nervously, quickly sliding his hand underneath the table, "Last year."

Before anyone can say anything in reply, Steve snatches up Paul's hand, holding the ring finger in a painful grip. He studies the ring and then looks up into Paul's eyes. Steve's eyes spark in pain for just a moment before settling into cold condemnation.

"Ain't you wearin' it on the wrong finger?" Steve snarls before dropping his hand.

"No," Paul says quietly.

"So who's the lucky wo-person?" Dennis asks hoping to prevent a fight.

"His name is Kurt," Paul answers, but stares at Steve who snorts in derision.

"K-Kurt?" Mark chokes on his beer.

"Yeah," Paul nods, his eyes never leaving Steve, "He's an accountant in the law firm I work for."

"That's great," Dennis smiles.

"Yeah," Mark adds, "Congrats."

"Nice to hear you settled down," Glenn nods.

"Congrats," Steve mutters so low that Paul can barely hear him.

"Thanks," Paul murmurs, looking away from Steve for the first time.

"Steve just got married about a year ago too," Dennis informs Paul, "Right Steve?"

"Yeah," Steve answers quietly.

"Can you believe he married my wife's sister Debra?" Glenn asks.

"Did he?" Paul asks.

"Yeah," Glenn confirms, "She helped him get over Sara-"

"Don't you go talkin' bad about my sister again Glenn," Mark warns him.

"What happened to Sara?" Paul asks in hopes to change the subject.

"She ran off," Glenn starts to answer, stopping as Mark glares at him.

"Sara's always been a bit flighty, I admit that," Mark explains, "But she wouldn't just run off. She loved Steve."

"I'm sorry to hear about that Steve," Paul tells him.

"What's done is done," Steve shrugs and gulps down the rest of his beer.

"Well," Dennis clears his throat; "Mark and I better get going."

"We better?" Mark blinks then nods as Dennis subtly elbows him in the ribs, "Yeah, we better."

"Glenn should probably get home too," Dennis suggests, "Right Glenn?"

"I guess," Glenn says slowly, raising his eyebrows at Dennis.

"Well, goodbye then?" Paul stands up as the other men begin to slide out of the booth.

"Yeah, good to see you," Dennis hugs him, "You should really come down here more often."

"Maybe I will," Paul hugs him back with a smile.

"Yeah, don't be no stranger," Mark orders him, clapping him on the back.

"You're welcome to visit the wife and I any time," Glenn hugs him.

"I just might have to take you up on that Glenn," Paul hugs him lightly, "It's been a long time."

"That it has," Dennis smiles before shepherding the two other men out the door.

"Bye!" Paul calls out to them.

He turn back to the booth, surprised to see Steve still sitting there, peeling the label off his beer bottle. Paul nervously clears his throat and Steve looks up at him through guarded eyes.

"Well," Paul coughs and stares down at the scarred table top, "I guess I better-"

"Do you remember my truck?" Steve interrupts him out of the blue.

"Your truck?" Paul's head snaps up, blinking in confusion.

"Yeah, the Ram?" Steve nods, adding angrily, "The Point? A bottle of Jim Beam? And you... ya said..."

He breaks off as he violently shoves the table away and slides out of the booth. Paul watches in open-mouthed confusion as Steve stalks to the bar through a crowd of Teamsters. Steve orders a bottle of Jim Beam, which earns him some eyebrow raises from the men and then stalks to the door. Without thinking, Paul follows him outside, grabbing his arm before he can open his truck door.

"Damn it Levesque just leave me the fuck alone!" Steve snarls and yanks his arm out of Paul's grip.

"Why did you bring that up?" Paul asks, his eyes flashing in hurt anger.

Steve looks away and then asks so softly that Paul isn't sure he actually said anything, "Ya wanna come to the Point with me?"

"Sure," Paul nods.

Steve opens the door to the truck and Paul climbs in, sliding over to the other door. The bottle of Jim Beam winds up hitting him in the side as Steve tosses it in there before climbing into the driver's seat. The truck whines as he starts it up and Paul jumps a bit, having forgotten what old cars sound like now, owning a Lexus himself.

The short drive to the Point takes place in silence, neither man looking at the other, both staring out the windshield, dead ahead. Steve thinks about nothing in particular, concentrating on the roads, as he hasn't been to the Point in over a year. Paul, meanwhile, absently twists his wedding ring, thinking of his husband sitting home alone. Guilty he remembers telling Kurt that he loves him before leaving, and Kurt smiling, oblivious to the fact that Paul has not once meant those words when he said them.

"We're here," Steve announces gruffly and swipes the bottle of alcohol before jumping out of the truck.

Paul blinks himself out of his reverie and hops out of the truck, slamming the door behind him. Steve has already climbed into the bed of the truck and is working on opening the bottle, sitting with his back against the cab of the truck. Paul watches him for a moment before climbing into the bed and sitting a close as to Steve as he dares to, which gives them a good foot or two between them.

"So," Steve sighs heavily as he plays with the cap of the bottle before taking a slug out of it, "How 'bout I catch ya up? Glenn, well he's still a bastard, but he's growin' on me I guess. Maybe that's just 'cause I have to work with him everyday. Ya know we both work at the power plant, right? Ya know Dennis is a teacher? An art teacher at the middle school. The kids just love him. And Mark, he got into an accident last year, that's why he limps. He had to give up teaching the kids basketball so he's a plumber now. He lays pipes in the new houses. Neither one of them got married, but that's okay I guess 'cause they have each other. Not like you have that guy ya married but-"

"Kurt, his name is Kurt Angle," Paul quietly interjects.

"They're happy. Dennis has done a world of good for Mark," Steve continues ignoring Paul, "Ya probably don't care, but Glenn and his wife Susan have three kids, they're really cute too. Kinda like my own... only I wouldn't know since I ain't seen them in a year. Sara-"

"Do you," Paul interrupts after taking a deep breath to calm himself, "Do you blame me for that?"

"What do ya want me to say?" Steve shrugs in false nonchalance.

"I don't know," Paul shakes his head, staring down at his hands.

"In a way," Steve begins, frequently taking slugs from the bottle; "I do blame you. If you hadn't come back after being gone for so long, and then landed a fuckin' bombshell in my lap, then maybe I wouldn't have gone home a drunk mess. Maybe Sara and I wouldn't have fought, and maybe she woulda stayed. But who's to say she wouldn'ta left eventually anyway? I shoulda known never to marry a relative of Mark's. He's so fuckin' strange himself, I shoulda expected the same out of a sister of his. Then again, I have only myself to blame. If I truly loved her I never woulda listened to ya. That doesn't make me stop hatin' ya though. I ain't never gonna see my kids again and I'm married to Debra, the town whore. I’m the laughing stock of the town, ya know that?"

"Maybe I should just go?" Paul says, but it's more of a question, once Steve stops talking.

"No!" Steve exclaims and grabs his arm, pulling him close despite the fact that Paul hadn't made any move to leave.

"I'm just upsetting you-"

"Just let me get this off my chest?" Steve begs, staring pleadingly into Paul's hazel eyes.

"Okay," Paul nods.

"That night in the truck we were drunk, right?" Steve asks, waiting for Paul to nod before continuing, "So, maybe we didn't mean-"

"I meant it."

"Y-ya did?" Steve blinks in shock.

"And I..." Paul trails off, looking away.

"What?" Steve demands, gently steering Paul's head back to face him with one hand.

"I wasn't drunk," Paul quietly admits.

"Oh God," Steve whispers, his right hand still resting against Paul's cheek as he stares off into the night.

"I still mean it," Paul whispers, clasping Steve's right hand in his left.

Steve whips his head back to face Paul, tears stinging his eyes. He blinks them away, thinking back to that night. He and Paul had been up at the Point, sitting much like they are now, drinking Jim Beam and just catching up. They had been best friends in high school, but then Paul had gone off to college and law school while Steve had stayed home, gotten a job at the power plant, gotten married to Mark's sister and had two kids. Eventually they wound up laying down in the truck bed on their sides, facing one another as they passed the bottle back and forth. The conversation started to get serious and Paul's hands wandered down to the front of Steve's tight jeans. Steve had jerked away, startled but not really shocked, just a little bit confused. Then Paul had dropped a huge bombshell, he had a crush on Steve, and more than that, he was in love with him.

Steve had said he loved him too, just a reflex and besides he's a happy drunk. But Paul took it to mean more and leaned in and kissed Steve lightly. And to both their surprise, Steve kissed him back. Seconds later, he violently shoved Paul away and cursed him out. They had a fight, which ended in Steve driving away back home where he got into an argument with his wife. Paul, meanwhile, walked back to Dennis's house to get his car and drove back to the city. No one heard from him for almost a year until Dennis decided to call him up and ask him to come home, despite Mark's protests that it was a bad idea.

Steve's wife, Sara, was gone a month later with the kids. She knew that her husband didn't love her, she knew there was someone else. Weeks later, Steve was served with divorce papers and then he quickly married Debra just to get Paul out of his mind.

"Why?" Steve asks after a moment.

"I don't know," Paul offers a small smile, "I guess you can't help who you love."

"But what about that Kurt guy?" Steve balks.

"Kurt?" Paul sighs, "I love him, but not like I love you. It's different. What I mean to say is... I'm in love with you."

Steve and Paul stare at each other for a moment, and then Paul leans in to kiss Steve. Feeling an odd sense of déjà vu, Steve pushes him away and scrambles out of the truck bed.

"I can't do this again Paul," he says, his voice breaking, "Maybe I should just drive you back to your car."

Paul crawls out of the truck bed and stands a few feet away from Steve, his head bowed so Steve won't see the tears streaming down his face. He holds out his hand, which Steve blinks at in confusion.

"You're drunk," Paul says quietly, "Give me the keys. I'll drop you off at home and then walk back to my car."

"Okay," Steve nods and hands them over, desperately ignoring the spark he feels as their hands touch.

He then turns around and climbs into the truck through the driver's side as the passenger door is broken, Paul climbing in after him. This time, Paul doesn't jump at the loud whine of the engine, he just puts the car in gear and drives back down from the Point. The short ride to Steve's house is completed in silence, Paul concentrating on driving through his tears, and Steve lost in contemplation staring out the window.

At Steve's house, Paul shuts off the truck and gets out, waiting patiently for Steve to do the same. Steve stumbles as he gets out and lands in Paul's arms, which encircle his waist, holding him up. Paul closes his eyes as Steve looks up at him, arching in his arms as though to kiss him, their lips a hairsbreadth apart. And then the porch light flips on and the spell is broken.

"Steve is that you honey?" Debra calls out from the front door.

"Yeah!" Steve shouts, his voice sounding almost angry as he disentangles himself from Paul's arms.

"Well, get inside!" Debra orders him, "You'll wake the neighborhood... who is that?"

Paul steps forward, dragging Steve along with him and offers a smile to Debra, "Hi Mrs. Williams, I'm Paul Levesque, a friend of Steve's from high school."

"Oh!" Debra smiles back, "A pleasure to meet you Mr. Levesque, thank you so much for bringing my wayward husband home."

"Not..." Paul has to swallow hard over the lump in his throat, "Not a problem Mrs. Williams."

He steers Steve towards Debra who shoos him into the house. Paul sees him collapse onto the couch by the front window out of the corner of his eye.

"Did you want to come in for coffee or anything?" Debra offers.

"No, no thank you Mrs. Williams," Paul shakes his head, "You just... you just take good care of him, okay?"

"Sure," Debra says slowly, a hint of confusion in her voice.

Paul smiles at her and then turns away, walking back down the drive. Debra shrugs her shoulders and then shuts the door, heading back to bed. Neither of them notices Steve staring out the window through the vertical blinds watching Paul walk away, trying desperately not to cry.

~End~