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Its late. George knows its late but he stumbles into the bar anyway, already tipsy from whatever party Wilbur had dragged him to that night.
He knows the place well anyway, the owner is a sweet woman who George doubts will let him drink himself to death, or follow some old creepy dude home, so he strides in with false swagger, mock saluting at the american flag in the entrance hall.
Jazz music floats into his ears, the soft sound of chatter floating out of the room like a cracked record on repeat.
He's too depressed for this.
Its a beautiful bar, all things considered. Dark wood and warm lighting, bookshelves lining the walls and a large grand piano in the middle of the room. Puffy did well decorating it, George thinks.
He stumbles over to the piano and leans against it, grinning wonkily at the brunette playing the instrument. Karl smiles back at him and he hits the final note of some Count Basie song, closing his eyes as it rings out through the room.
There's some light applause before it goes back to the quiet chatter, his best friend brushing off his purple suit before smiling at George.
"Are you okay?" He asks, slinging an arm around the brunettes shoulders.
"Drunk." he replies blandly, "and single."
Karl groans lightly and guides George over to the bar, gesturing the bartender over. "Again? Thats like the third guy this month."
"Yeah i know Karl, I was the one dating them." the Brit grumbles, massaging his forehead with a frown, "and now i'm drunk, sad and lonely while my roommate is probably getting fucked by one of my best friends."
Karl pouts, "well you dont have to be so depressing about it." he smirks menacingly at the ravenette behind the counter as he winks at him, accepting the glass of water with narrowed eyes.
When George doesn't reply the older sighs and pushes the glass towards him, "so Q and Will are back together then?"
"Their like rabbits." the younger groans, slumping his head down on the table.
"Oh what I'd give to be a rabbit." his best friend muses, giving up and taking a sip of the water himself.
"Amen."
George pauses and takes the cup out of his friends grasp, tilting his head at the bartender from earlier. "What about him? He seemed interested in you."
Karl sighs and shakes his head, scowling. "New guy, Nick. Seems like an asshole to be honest, hasnt stopped flirting with me since he arrived."
"He's cute though," he elbows his friend, "and theres no harm in a one night stand."
"There is when you work with them." Karl decides, stealing the water again, "I've made that mistake once."
"You can always get him fired." George shrugs, grinning, "Puffy would believe your word over his."
Karl scoffs a laugh, giving his best friend a look, "oh yeah? And what would i tell her?"
"I dunno" George laughs, "say he like.. Was mean so you or sumth'n."
"Good idea George."
The brunette smiles lazily, "Yeah.. Yeah its a good idea."
The sound of someone sitting down next to them distracts him, and he sits up drunkenly, blinking at the man. He's tall, with fluffy blonde hair and soft green eyes, he wears a suit and a few rings with a sharp jawline and freckles all over his nose.
"Hey Nick!" his accent is Floridian and his teeth are perfect and pearly white.
He's perfect. He looks like a walking painting, no imperfections in sight.
George widens his eyes and sends a look to Karl, who just sips the water, watching the man with an amused sparkle in his eyes.
"Hey Clay!" Karl chokes on the water and George turns around again, only to see the ravenette - Nick - from earlier shaking hands with the blonde like their old friends.
Oh shit they're old friends.
He snorts and takes the water back, watching his best friends expression fall. "Do it." he mouths, sipping it the clear liquid with an amused expression.
"Hey princess.." Nick speaks up again, having noticed Karl's staring.
The brunette elbows George subtly but to no avail, the man just continuing to drink the almost-finished water.
"Hey uh, i think you have something on your lip-" Nick says, pointing to his own lip while wandering over to them from the other side of the bar.
Karl narrows his eyes but lifts his hand up to his bottom lip anyway.
"-want me to kiss it off for you?" He finishes, smirking as he leans on his hand.
George chokes on his water, barking a tipsy laugh as his best friend drops his hand and scowls.
"Really?!" the brunette scoffs, folding his arms. "That actually works on people?!"
"Believe it or not." a voice mutters next to him and George's eyes meet green, he sends a small smile to the blonde which is returned with a much wider one. "I'm Clay." he whispers loudly.
"George." he whispers back.
"Nice to meet you Georgie." the pearly white smile is offered to him again, but George frowns.
"No.. George."
He smiles again, "yeah, i know."
George narrows his eyes and opens his mouth but Nick beats him too it, still smirking fondly at the other brunette.
"You sure? I'm pretty sure i can be of service." the ravenette drawles and reaches a hand out to where Karl's is resting his on the bar, but the brunette yanks it back before he can.
"Positive." he practically spits.
"I dunno Karl." George sends one last curious glance to Clay before turning to his best friend, "i thought i saw something on your lip earlier, think you should let him kiss it off."
Karl rounds on him wide-eyed, "George! I- no!"
The brunette smiles tipsily, leaning forwards to fake-inspect his friends face. "No i think i see something, you should let him deal with it."
Karl blinks at him rapidly, betrayal clear on his face, while Nick looks like he just won the lottery.
"No well.. I think, I think you have something too." Karl calls, also leaning forward, "yeah I.. I think you do."
"No.. I, I don't." George says quickly, rubbing his lip violently. "See, all gone!"
"No, its still there." Karl nods, leaning back and turning to Clay. "Don't you agree blondie?"
Clay looks up, clearly shocked to have been asked at all. His emerald eyes blink at George repeatedly, before he smirks softly.
"Mm, yeah I think i see something. Hey Georgie want me to get that for you?"
Karl leans against his friends shoulder and hums, "agreed. Georgie, i think you should let blondie get that for you."
He goes to say no, but hesitates. I mean.. Whats the worse that can happen? Its not like the guy isnt cute "Okay."
Karl freezes and sits up while Clay smiles, leaning forward. "Okay."
The kiss is short and sweet, basically just the twos boys lips pressed against eachother, but George enjoys the sensation anyway, smiling when he eventually pulls away.
His lashes flutter softly as his eyes open, once again making contact with the other mans beautiful green ones. "I think you got it." he whispers softly.
"No, I don't think I did." Clay mumbles back, grinning as he pushes their lips together again.
Neither remember much of the rest of the night, although George is half positive that Nick did end up getting the thing on Karl's lip, and then both repeatedly made sure it was gone. He also vaguely remembers something about the photobooth in the bar - its vintage, same aesthetic as the rest of the room and probably going to break anyday now - but he doesn't quite remember.
But one thing he does remember is how happy he was. George isn't happy much these days, and Clay.. Well Clay is beautiful and funny and slightly annoying.. George hopes he has his number.
He wakes up with a headache, a clear indication that the water Karl got him was too no avail, and very much alone - a dissapointment for everyone involved. A bottle of aspirin sits on his bedside table next to a glass of water and a small piece of paper.
He groans and picks the bottle up, swallowing a few of the tablets dry as he half-heartedly reads the note.
"Hey Gogs :)
Gone to work, you came home pretty drunk last night so i left you some painkillers. The guy who brought you home was cute btw if your not with him wanna give me his number?
hah im kidding LOL (kind of)
Anyways I love you you whore, remember you have a meeting at 5!!
sincerely, Will <3 (the best roommate ever)
p.s. will you tell Q he is a stubborn fucker and i hope he dies :)
p.p.s the cute guy who brought you home told me to give you this, yall look so cute btw
p.p.p.s what does p.s even stand for?"
This sort of note isnt unusual, infact George has received quite a few almost completely identical, but the second p.s is what catches his eye.
He narrows his eyes, wondering what on earth his British friend could be on about now, before noticing another slip of paper next to glass.
He picks it up, hoping its a number, but he's met with something completely different. Its a small, long slip of paper, four pictures on it. The first has George, Karl, Clay and Nick all sticking their tongues out with wide happy grins, George and Karl sat on the others laps. The second has Karl laying across the other three, eyes closed and mouth open mid-laugh, the others the same. The third Sapnap seems to have been pushed out of the booth, Karl mid-pushing, while George and Clay are smiling at eachother fondly, the brunette still on the others lap. The last is just the latter two, kissing softly infront of the camera.
Its in the photo booth.
He stares at it for a moment before shaking his head, double checking for the digits and slipping it into his bedside drawer along with the paper, the note lying among the rest that Wilbur has left him over the years. Mainly just the same words rewritten.
He goes to get out of bed but pauses, studying the drawer again. "Fuck it." he mumbles softly, pulling it open and grabbing the pictures out. He quickly slips then in his pocket then scans the room, as if trying not to be caught cheating in poker.
"Your such an idiot." he says to himself eventually, actually getting up to get ready this time, alarm clock blinking "4:04" at him.
It doesnt take long for him to be done, dressed in his usual scratchy suit and brown hair perfectly fluffed up. He doesn't exactly enjoy his job, but he works very few hours and gets enough to get by, so he doesn't bother to try with anything else.
The walk isnt long either, and he doesnt have to take the subway, which is good in so many ways. But it also means he has to walk, which is not good in so many ways.
"There you are!" a voice calls as he walks into the building. The entrance hall is industrial, with bright, LED lights and grey suits at every turn.
"Hey Q." he smiles, happy to see a familiar face in such a bland place.
The small man slings an arm around him, giving him a cheshire-like grin. "How are you Amor?" he asks loudly, mexican accent shining through.
"Better, he was a dick anyway." the brunette shrugs him off, his friend barely noticing as they walk into the elevator.
"Ayy thats my man!" the black-haired man cheers, the other people in the small box sending them wary glances. "He was a dick anyway, their are more fish, many more fish."
"Or rabbits." George mumbles under his breath.
"What?"
"Nothing.." he smiles softly, "Hey uh Wilbur told me to tell you that your a stubborn bastard and he hopes that you die."
Q snorts, striding out as the elevator stops at their floor, leaving a very flustered and confused group of people behind. "Well you tell him he is a," he mutters something Spanish under his breath that George assumes to be an insults and scowls.
"You know what he did to me?!" the short man continues.
"No.. And I really don't care."
"He fucking told me that i'm bad in bed." a few people in cubicles look up and George sends them an apologetic look, rushing after his friend.
"George let me tell you something." Quackity stops suddenly, the brunette almost running straight into him, "i am alot of things George but i am not bad in bed."
"I'm sure, Q."
"I mean who does that bastard think he is?!"
George wishes he could tell you that this is an uncommon occurance, that Q ranting about his roommates latest mishap was a completely new and not at all familiar experience.
But its not true, almost every time he walks into this building his best friend is there and ready to tell him about Wilbur, whether that be how sweet he is or how much he wishes the Brit would dig himself a grave then crawl in it.
Honestly, you would be going to a new bar every night if you were George too. Plus, who doesn't love a bit of fun, the brunette is very good at attracting - usually wanted - attention. Hence his friends pestering of his latest break-up.
Its not that George wants to have a million and one boyfriends, infact he would be plenty happy to settle down now, but he is also extremely picky, and can be awfully blunt when he gets too drunk (which is most of the time).
A trait that George assumes is the reason he woke up alone this morning, and the reason for his latest boyfriend becoming an ex.
Q was never much of a boyfriend person, he enjoys one-night stands, being single, and Wilbur (most of the time).
Thats why the two going out together is a rare thing, but when they do its usually a fun experience. They end up going to a local gay bar, deciding their in the mood for dancing after such a long and boring meeting.
"The Ram and The Duck." Q reads out, "how unique."
"I think its a nice name for a bar." George laughs, leading his friend inside.
"For a gay bar though?" the younger snorts.
"Who cares about the name," George declares, "let's get drunk!"
His friend laughs loudly, "okay, okay!"
The two proceed to do exactly that, taking shot after shot, flirting with man after man. Q ends up having the bartender wrapped around his finger, smiling at him flirtatiously. George thinks hes strange, with ridiculous side-burns and an obnoxious laugh. But to each his own he supposes.
He himself ends up pinned against a wall. He doesnt quite remember the name of the man who is doing the pinning, and he's very slobbery, but George enjoys it nontheless.
"Pretty." the man mumbles against his lips, "so pretty for me."
George doesnt bother to correct him, to say actually he looks pretty for himself, not this salivery mess of a man, and instead just pushes himself further against the wall, the man taking it as an opportunity to do the same.
"George!" a voice calls out and he slowly detatches from the other mouth, pushing him away and wiping his face with the back of his hand.
"Karl?" he slurs, watching the brunette slip out through the crowd, Nick being pulled not far behind.
"George! It is you!" Karl smiles, eyeing slobber-mouth warily.
"Hey.. Hello!" he grins, practically collapsing into his friend awaiting arms.
"Oh okay!" the older man laughs, "how much did you have to drink?!"
"M-more than.. should." he mumbles, burying his face in his friends neck. Slobber-mouth walks away, scoffing, while Nick looks around warily, clearly not enjoying himself.
"Yes definitely more than you should have." Karl muses, rubbing his friends back. "Who did you come here with? You didnt get this drunk alone did you?"
George pauses, "Q.." he states eventually. "Wouldn' shut up 'bout Wilba. Wilba this, Will that, hope he die blah blah blah."
"Sounds like him." the brunette snorts, "come on, let's go back to the bar to sober you up, ill take you home after our shift."
They do just that, both Karl and Nick hauling the drunk man into a cab, practically pouring the water down his throat when they arrive at the bar. George can't remember much of the ride, although he does remember Nick asking him if he's talked to Clay recently, receiving a half-hearted response of "suckkkk on meh' dick."
When Puffy notices his condition she tuts at the sight, rolling her eyes. "Dear Lord, he is a sight for sore eyes." the curly-haired woman huffs, "hurry along, do your jobs, ill sort him out." the older woman waves the two reluctant men away and sits George down in an arm-chair in the corner.
"You are a mess, boy." she muses, watching him sip from an identical glass to the one from the previous night, slowly sobering up.
"Mess." he repeats slowly.
"Yes a mess, what happened to that boy from last night, the blonde one? He seemed nice."
"Clay?"
She adjusts in her seat, "yes, Clay, what about him. Say the wrong thing again did you?"
"I assume so." George nods, curling up into himself.
"Too drunk to remember?"
"Wayyy too drunk." he sniggers, the woman laughing along slowly.
She stands up, "well you seem fine enough now, I'll let you alone. I would say make sure it doesn't happen again but.." she looks down at him, "it will."
George hums and smiles at her weakly, "yeah.. sorry."
Puffy just tuts again, "oh I'm sure." she mutters, but shes smiling as she walks away.
George stays in that arm chair for a while, sipping on the once-full glass of water until its empty and he's left staring at the droplets at the bottom.
Eventually, he decides he's had enough of wallowing in his own self-pity, and pulls himself out of his chair, still slightly wobbly on his feet.
He probably looks terrible, with his heavy eyebags, grey skin and rumpled suit. He wants to get out of here now, his brown eyes wander around the room, taking in the laughing faces of the late night. He wants to go home where he can wallow in his self-pity infront of the tv with popcorn and Will.
Then he catches sight of Karl. The man is sat on the edge of the piano, opposite end of the keys, with Nick infront of him. The two are talking in low voices and their noses are touching with how close their faces are, they both wear fond smiles and don't break eye-contact the entire time George watches them.
They look at eachother like they're the only ones in the room. Its annoyingly sweet, George decides, avoiding his friends gaze as he wanders over to the exit.
He decides to get a cab home, he doesn't want to bother Karl and he doesn't want to stay out any longer. So he slowly attempts to walk to the exit, hand tracing along the bookshelves as he passes them.
Its where the bookshelves end that he pauses though, stopping infront of the very photobooth he got the pictures from last night.
He looks around, as if he's committing a crime. He leans against it and traces a finger along the door frame, fiddling with the edge of the curtain.
After a moment he slides in, sitting down on the bench and admiring the vintage camera and coin slot.
"Its a surprise it even works." a voice next to him laughs quietly. George jumps and snaps his head up, finally noticing the blonde in the door frame.
".. Clay?"
"Thats my name." he smiles his pearly-smile, and George feels just about ready to pass out. "You okay? You dont look to great."
The Brit scoffs a laugh and shuffles over, embarrassed. "Yeah, yeah im fine i was just.." he pauses, "just wanted to sit in here again i suppose."
The blonde slips in next the brunette, pushing the curtain shut. "Oh yeah?"
George watches him for a moment, "yeah." he hesitates. "You know, before you i had never considered using this before.. didn't even know it still worked."
Clay hums, "well, your welcome then i suppose." he says, pausing. "You did get the photos right?"
George swallows, "yeah.. you left the photos." but not your number. Is the unfinished words, and he almost wants to take it back at the look of sadness that suddenly washes over his companion.
"I wanted to, i swear."
"Then uh, then why didn't you?" he looks up.
Clay sighs and runs a hand through his hair, turning away from George slightly. "Listen um.. I've been, look I've been here a few times, since Nick started." the blonde hesitates, "and the first time i saw you i thought.. Well i thought you were cute, but you were with this other guy, so i didn't bother you. Then the next time you were with another guy, and the next time another. So i just.. Assumed thats how you did things."
"You assumed? You didn't even bother to ask? Better yet, you were okay with never seeing me again?" George doesn't know quite why he's getting so worked up over it, maybe its because Clay is the first time he's had someone look at him with fondness in a long time, maybe its because he grinned genuinely when a new memory came of last night during the meeting. Maybe just because its Clay.
"No thats not.." the blonde sighs, "It's stupid i know, i realise that now, but i wasnt really thinking straight either, and i figured.. I figured one night with you would be better than none at all. Then when i went to your house your roommate practically kicked me out, it was a struggle to get him to give you the photos at all."
George blinks at him, before smiling fondly. "Your such an idiot." he mutters, grabbing the tallers face and pressing his lips to the blondes.
This kiss goes on alot longer than their first, George able to properly revel in the others touch. He tastes like mint and partially red bull, an odd combination that somehow works, he tastes good. He is good, he's a good kisser.
Plus he's funny, he's attractive. And he's.. Well he's..
He's Clay.
Neither notice when Karl slip a quarter into the machine - some completely different photos from the last being slowly printed out - too entangled with the other.
No one would have guessed it to be a best-man story, but things always have a funny way of working out.