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It had been a long and emotionally draining week of filming, and Matt was ready for the weekend. He planned on sleeping in the next morning and then going to his favorite yoga class. After that, he didn't have anything that he desperately needed to do, which was a rarity in Matt's world, and he intended to take advantage of the downtime.

He was making his way out the exit of Silvercup when he heard raucous laughter from where the trailers were parked across the lot. Curious, he followed the sound to find Tim and Sharif lounging inside Tim's trailer with the door open.

"Guys," Matt greeted them with an upraised hand.

Tim grinned and waved him inside. "You got my text!"

Matt shook his head and pulled his phone out. There were several texts from his agent about a movie deal that was being brokered, a couple of messages from Simon about how much he was missing him, and Tim's text about having a drink in his trailer.

"No matter," Sharif said, pulling a bottle out of the cooler near his feet and tossing it to Matt. "I brought beer. I thought we could all use it after this week."

Tim drained his bottle and motioned for Sharif to throw him another. "You did some great work, Matty. Sit down and take a load off."

Matt sighed and sank into the semi-comfortable arm chair opposite his co-stars. He took the top off his bottle and drank several mouthfuls. He hadn't really had a drink in a while because his other roles had been physically demanding in a way that meant he needed to watch his caloric intake.

"You going home this weekend?" Tim asked.

"No." Matt's heart ached at spending another weekend away from his family, but it couldn't be avoided. "Simon took the boys to his parents'. It's their anniversary, and they're having a big party. I was going to meet up with them, but after this week..." He just shook his head.

"So, here's what we're going to do," Tim waved a hand to include all three of them in the plan. "We'll have a bachelor weekend. Tomorrow, we'll find something to do that ends with a big steak dinner. And Sunday, we'll watch the game and order in pizza and beer. What do you say?"

"I'm in." Sharif held his bottle out toward them, waiting for a cheers.

"Great!" Tim tapped the neck of Sharif's bottle with his own. "Matt?"

He hesitated, feeling guilty for taking a weekend to himself when Simon was corralling their three rambunctious boys on his own. On the other hand, Matt so rarely got time alone without any commitments, and he should take it while he had the chance. Finally, he nodded and clinked his bottle against theirs. "I'm in."

Over the next couple of hours, the three of them made their way through the cooler of beer and talked about this season, the future of the show, their families and Sharif's interest in settling down, and New York versus LA in terms of living and production. By the time they'd decided to head home for the night, they were all slurring and stumbling out of Tim's trailer.

Matt spotted Willie's red kick scooter leaning against their co-star's trailer and grabbed it.

"Whoa!" Tim reached for him but Matt was faster and had already kicked off, riding the scooter across the empty lot. "Matty, come back here before you break your neck!"

"It's fun!" Matt exclaimed as he rode past Tim. He laughed when Sharif guffawed so hard he fell over.

Tim threw his hands up in the air and chased after Matt. "Come back here! Matthew Bomer!"

Hearing his name come out of Tim's mouth in that tone of voice sent Matt into an uncontrollable fit. The scooter wobbled and Matt lost control, running into some dolly track that was laying near the studio building. He fell off the scooter and landed hard on the pavement. Almost immediately, he rolled to his knees and jumped up with his hands in the air. "I'm okay!"

Tim clutched his chest and gave Matt a stern look. "You're giving me a heart attack over here."

"Sorry, sorry." Matt picked up the scooter and walked over to meet Tim in the middle of the lot. "Want a turn?"

Sharif burst into laughter again behind them, which caused Matt to start giggling again too.

"You are worse than your boys when you've had a few beers," Tim said, shaking his head. He reached for the scooter but Matt had already moved away, heading toward Sharif and offering him the toy.

Matt collapsed onto the steps of Tim's trailer while he watched Sharif take off across the lot and Tim throw his hands up in the air while shouting, "Sharif! What do you think you're doing?"

Matt's head was still buzzing from the beer, but his wrist was starting to ache too. He suspected it was from the fall, and he cradled it against his chest, hoping it would feel better soon.

Within a few minutes, Tim nudged him over with his knee and sat down beside him. It was a tight fit on the steps, but Matt made room. They were both quiet for a while, watching Sharif, until Tim shifted to pull his cell phone out of his pocket. "Should call us a couple of cabs. We can share one over the bridge."

Matt shrugged and leaned back against the trailer's door. His eyelids were starting to droop, and he didn't care much about where he slept as long as he was horizontal soon. His wrist had graduated to a throb, which didn't seem like a good sign, but Matt found it hard to care at one in the morning with too many beers in him.

He half-listened while Tim ordered the cabs, and then groaned when the older man knocked his shoulder against Matt's and it jostled his wrist.

"What's wrong?"

Matt opened his eyes to see Tim reaching for his wrist, and he jerked away with a cry of pain.

"Matt? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's fine."

"Matt." Tim stared him down until Matt sighed.

"My wrist. I guess I fell on it earlier." Matt saw Tim's eyes drop to the arm he was still cradling. He scooted away, almost falling off the step before Tim could reach for it. "It just needs some ice. It'll be okay."

"Forgive me if I don't believe you. Let me see it." Tim reached for it again, and Matt had no choice but to let him pry his uninjured left hand away from his painful right.

Tim whistled, and Matt looked down to see that his arm was swollen and already deeply bruised above his hand and up part of his forearm. "That doesn't look good." The beer suddenly churned uncomfortably in his stomach, and Matt swallowed heavily.

"It'll be okay, Matty," Tim said, standing and helping Matt by putting one hand on his back and one on the elbow of his left arm. "We'll stop by the ER, let them get an x-ray and see what we're dealing with."

Tim got Sharif into one cab and gave the drive a twenty to make sure that Sharif got into his apartment building all right. Then, he helped Matt into the other car and quietly gave the driver instructions to take them directly to Mount Sinai.

"How are you doing?" Tim asked, once they were moving easily through the late night traffic.

Matt groaned and tipped his head back against the seat. His stomach was roiling, which didn't mesh well with the pain in his arm or the growing headache.

Tim squeezed his shoulder. "Hang in there. It'll just be a few more minutes."

He closed his eyes and tried counting to ten, but he kept getting stuck on what came after four, which hopefully said more about his drunken attention span than anything else.

It wasn't long before Tim was prodding his side and telling him to slide out of the cab. Matt stumbled back against the car once he was vertical, but Tim was right beside to keep him on his feet.

"Easy." Tim slipped an arm around Matt's waist and led him into the brightly lit waiting room. "Here, take a seat. I'm going to see what they say about taking you back."

When Tim returned, it was with a nurse and a wheelchair. Matt thought about protesting, but really, he just wanted some drugs and a place to lie down.

The next few hours were miserable. Matt's wrist was broken and needed to be set, but the alcohol in his system meant that the medical staff was hesitant about pain relief. He was nauseated and vomited a couple of times, once while in some sort of traction device where his arm was hanging from what looked like finger traps around his fingers. That, put simply, sucked.

Through it all, Tim was right there, rubbing Matt's back or murmuring words of encouragement or holding out a basin when he looked like he would be sick. Matt was both mortified and grateful that he wasn't alone.

The sun was rising when Matt was finally released with his arm wrapped in a splint and some prescriptions for an anti-inflammatory and an analgesic. He was feeling better after the banana bag IV of vitamins, nutrients and fluids that all but cured his hangover, and the pain medication they'd finally been able to give him.

Once more, Tim called for a cab and got them both back to Matt's Gramercy Park apartment with little fuss. He shadowed Matt into his bedroom, helped him take off his shoes and jeans, got his arm elevated on a pillow once Matt was lying on his back in the middle of the bed, and made sure his pills and a glass of water were on the bedside table.

"Thanks," Matt mumbled. His eyes were barely open, but he wanted Tim to know how much he appreciated his help. "For everything. Last night sucked."

Tim chuckled and ruffled his hair, which Matt would be more upset about if he were anywhere but his amazingly comfortable bed. "I tried to tell you."

"Mmhmm. Sorry."

"It's okay. Get some rest." Tim turned to go, but Matt caught his arm with his uninjured hand. "You okay Matty?"

Matt nodded but didn't let go.

"Do you want me to stay for a while? I don't have anywhere to be today."

Matt nodded again.

Tim twisted his arm until he was holding Matt's hand. The firm, calloused palm was warm against Matt's, and he sighed softly when Tim gave a squeeze. Matt was asleep before Tim let go.


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