rainbowlounge | The Bar At The End of the Universe

"Daughter? Good for you, you always wanted kids. Happy for you and, uh, Michael." Matt looks away, quickly. It's not even his Johnny, who, by the way, isn't his anymore-- why does he give a shit? "It's 1996, I'm in undergrad, you're working for your father, and I am definitely not straight. Not if history has anything to say. I don't think you're dating anyone yet." He steps back, twisting around. "I need a shot. Want a shot?"

"Kinda need one," Johnny agreed, and gave Matt a look. "So we dated?" he surmised. It was pretty obvious. He knew Matt, he knew his mannerisms, and Matt had said before--when pretty drunk, granted--that if he wasn't straight, something would happen between them. "What happened?" He pulled out his wallet as they headed for the bar; no way Matt could pay unless he stored money in his pajamas, if they even had a pocket.

"Jesus, can we not do this?" he barks out. Taking in a deep breath, he shakes his head. "No, sorry. I didn't mean that. It's just kind of new. Still."

Matt trails along, floundering for a moment or two. He takes his time, waiting until they each have a shot in hand, before shrugging as casually as he can manage and saying, "We broke up. We just... we didn't work. As much as we both wanted it to. It's probably for the best." He doesn't believe that for a second.

"Yeah, so why don' I believe ya?" Johnny muttered, and tossed back his tequila with ease. "We've known each other since kindergarten." He held up a hand. "Sorry. Not tryin' ta push. Can imagine how it feels. Jus' can't imagine why it wouldn' work, s'all."

"You're a dipshit, that's why." Matt finishes his shot with ease, setting the glass on the bar and eyeing it with speculation. "Okay, well, we're both dipshits. I'm a flirt, you're jealous, we were" Were, he repeats to himself, were, were "wildly in love and didn't know how to deal with it other than fucking and fighting." He turns to his best friend, holding steady eye contact. "What do you want me to say, Johnny? You seem pretty fucking happy with your family and the Johnny I know is definitely happier without me, so that's that. It didn't work. It happens."

Just before Johnny says anything, he imagines how, at twenty, he would have reacted to a thirty-five-year-old in a happy, committed relationship telling him how to fix it. Instead, he shrugs. "Yeah, I'm happy. I also, by the way, never had a fuckin' chance with ya. I did, my life'd probably be different in at least small ways. I will say I'm bettin' I'm pretty fuckin' miserable in your reality, though."

"Trust me," Matt darkly mutters, "you were much more miserable with me. Or it seemed like it. I don't know, I--" He winces at the twisting sensation in his chest. "We're both miserable, but we're better off apart. Even if I still--" Shaking his head, he says, "Anyway, thirty-five, huh? What's it like to no longer have your youth and vigor? I bet you've got some monstrosity of a house with three classic cars in the garage and a dozen dogs. Not to mention the pampered cabin boy and spoiled princess. You must be in bliss." He smiles.

Johnny grins, elbowing him. "Pretty fuckin' amazin'. Ma--Michael's a pilot. Lena's my princess, but she's pretty fucked up from her biological father, so we're workin' on that. You got me a papillion last year, so three dogs. German Shepherd's from a guy I dated in 1997, so she's real fuckin' old. An' it's a five-car garage, with two classic cars, Michael's Bentley, an' my Lamborghini, plus a space for workin' on 'em. Not that that's all my cars. An' I'm up ta thirteen nieces an' nephews an' sixteen younger siblings."

Matt blinks. "Jesus, sixteen? Augusto hasn't heard of condoms then, I take it?" Gesturing for another shot, he tosses over his shoulder, "I am so getting you a papillion, now. Oh, god, I'd pay good money to see you carrying that yappy thing around. Priceless."

He turns, leaning against the back of the bar. He eyes Johnny carefully, trying not to linger to long on his biceps (fuck, are they bigger?) or the alluring stubble shadowing his jaw. Fuck, Matt needs to get laid. "So, Michael, huh? It's going well?"

"I fuckin' hope he's done. Two a 'em are missin'--their mother took off--but still means there's sixteen a us, an' Christmas shoppin's a real bitch." Johnny shrugs. "Papillion's named Ripley. Spoiled little shit."

Once he's ordered a beer, he glances at Matt. "S'goin' fuckin' amazin'. Been with him three years now. Gay marriage's legal since two months ago, so we're gonna get married eventually, but righ' now, we're jus' plannin' for him ta adopt another kid."

"Oh, for fuck's-- you named your dog after me?" Matt rolls his eyes. When their drinks arrive, he clenches a hand around his, willing himself to calm the fuck down. "Gay marriage? Seriously? That's unbelievable. Genuinely unbelievable, I don't believe it."

A motion across the bar catches his eye and Matt finds himself watching the others for a moment. "Torey's gay too, huh?"

"Hey, gave me this tiny fluffy dog, I had ta name her after a badass Sigourney Weaver character. After ya was a fuckin' bonus." Johnny grinned. "Michael adores her. Loves that ya gave her to me."

He followed Matt's line of sight and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Tore's gay. Came out after David outed me, but I always knew, which meant you always knew. He's been with Sam for somethin' like seven years, my time. They have a son."

"Damn. Cross-universal hopping and I still get cockblocked." Matt grins, glancing at Johnny. "Your world sounds very bizarre, you know that, right? Christ, I can only imagine how your mother reacted. Two of her sons, both gay, she must have exploded with--" A sudden thought hits him. "Wait, why did you come out?"

Johnny sighed. "I didn'," he said reluctantly. "The guy I was with in 1997? I coulda had that permanent if I'd come out then. But I didn'. In December a 1999, David knocked up Maggie--that Maggie--a second time, Ma an' Pop were goin' off on him, an' he tried ta divert shit by outin' me. So that was it, Ma knew. Tore came out a few days later cuz it was sheer hell with her, ya know where I rank with her, an' I guess she didn' wanna lose him, or lose two sons, dunno which, so she sorta tried ta accept it. Likes Sam a fuck of a lot more'n she likes Michael."

"Oh." Matt exhales suddenly. "Oh." He downs his shot, embracing the harsh burn, and takes a moment to think. "That's... man, your mother. Glad she got over herself, but, damn, that's rough." Pointedly, he does meet Johnny's eyes. "So you had a boyfriend, a serious one, and you still didn't come out? Didn't you, uh, want to?"

Johnny took a minute to figure out his phrasing. Obviously things had gone differently in Matt's reality, one way or another.

"I wanted ta," he said finally. "I did. I loved Brian so fuckin' much. But I was afraid a what her an' Pop's reactions would be. 'specially Pop's. So I didn', an' he left. We were together seven months, an' if I'd come out, we'd still be together. I jus'...couldn', then."

Matt groans, sinking onto a stool and dropping his head against the bar. "I am a fucking idiot."

After a moment, he adds, "And I need alcohol. Copious amounts of alcohol."

After just looking at Matt for a second, Johnny said, "Guessin' that went different where you're from." He gestures for Dan and orders them a bottle of scotch and a couple of glasses. "Have scotch, but only if you're gonna fuckin' talk."

Matt scrambles for a glass with a flailing hand, clinging to it as he motions for Johnny to fill it. Without lifting his head, he reluctantly admits, "It was different. You came out earlier." He straightens up, holding Johnny's gaze. "We came out earlier. Together. I thought it was a solidarity thing, you know, something that was happening because it was the two of us instead of just you, but--"

He scoffs, jabbing a finger into Johnny's chest. "But you, you fucking asshole, you were coming out because of me. All that shit you were worried about, that shit with your ma and everything, all of that and you still came out because of me. For me. Asshole."

Johnny blinked slowly, then poured himself probably three fingers of scotch and drank it straight down.

"An' ya think you're better off apart?" he demanded once he was done. "That that me is fucking happy? Christ, you're an idiot."

"Shut up," Matt snarls, grasping for the bottle. He fills his glass, taking a long swig from it. "Just... just shut up, Johnny."

Closing his eyes so he doesn't have to see the expression he's bound to get in return, he rushes out, "I'm miserable, you're miserable, and I am so-- so fucking in love with you-- him-- whoever, that I can't even--" He finishes his glass and pours another. "I can't. So just shut up."

Johnny's breath caught, and he looked away from Matt for a minute before splashing more scotch into his glass. He took a long swallow before saying, "Fine, better off bein' miserable than workin' it the fuck out, whatever. You're twenty, it's all impossible ta fuckin' talk 'bout, I fuckin' get it. Hope ya can get the fuck over each other, then."

He wouldn't be able to get over Matt, though, and he knew that damn well.

"Jesus." Matt tips his head back, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. "You should be a goddamn motivational speaker, you know that? You could single-handedly drive up the state's suicide rate."

He spreads his hands, waiting. "Fine. You're the fucking guru, you know best. You tell me how I'm supposed to work around the fact that-- that I've slept with other people and I'm bi, and that Johnny can't handle that. He may still lo-- he doesn't want me anymore."

Johnny considered that for a second before saying, "Tell me what happened. Right 'fore ya broke up, what went on?" If he knew that much, he might have a shot in hell at helping the two of them get back together. At least he could give Matt a plan to try, and it might cheer him the fuck up.

"God, I hate you," Matt mutters without much heat. He drains his glass, filling it and repeating the process before he can speak. "Okay. We went out to eat. The waitress flirted, I harmlessly flirted back-- I know I do that a lot but, come on, like Johnny doesn't. It wasn't explicit, just some friendly banter. So she gave me her number and, without looking at it, I shoved it into my pocket and forgot about the whole thing." He winces. "Maybe not the brightest move on my part."

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