The problem with being best friends with James, when it got right down to it, was that you were best friends with James.

You automatically became a part of whatever he did because he was your best friend. Which was why Chris, who had otherwise been enjoying his night out, was suddenly faced with trying to stop James from molesting AJ.

"He said I was pretty!" AJ accused, pointing a finger.

"Well y'are," James slurred.

"And you're supposed to be straight," Chris said.

"I am!" James cried, lurching towards Chris. "Who said I'm not? Huh?"

"I did," Chris said patiently, waiting for James to either reach him or, more likely, fall over.

"Fucker!" James took a wild swing and ended up hitting his own ear.

Chris watched as James slowly fell against the bar and slid to the floor. Once he was certain James wasn't going to move for the time being, he turned to AJ and raised an eyebrow in question.

AJ looked affronted, like Chris' eyebrow had just accused him of starting it.

"He felt my behind!" There was a shrill tone to AJ's voice that promised it could get a lot more shrill, if need be. "He said I was his darling and then he felt my behind!"

James laughed from his position on the floor. Chris kicked him.

"Look, AJ," Chris said, in his best calming voice. "I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding. He probably thought you were a butch ringrat or something."

This was exactly the wrong thing to say although Chris, in his slightly buzzed state, couldn't figure out why.

AJ sputtered, made to shove Chris, thought better of it and ended up screaming, "Jerk!" before stamping off.

Chris shrugged. He looked down at James and nudged him with a foot. "Hey. What have I told you about hitting on your coworkers?"

"Do it all the time!" James yelled, a happy smile on his face.

Chris smiled. "Only if they want you to."

James' smile slowly turned into a frown. "Where'd she go?" he demanded.

"Probably off telling people what a letch you are," Chris said, looking at AJ talking animatedly to Christopher Daniels and occasionally pointing in their direction. James laughed triumphantly and punched the air.

"Can't nobody resist me! All the girls want my dick," he laughed like this was the best joke since creation.

"Well, I think it's safe to say that all the men don't," Chris said, leaning over and hooking an arm under James. After some struggling and James keeling over onto a barstool in a fairly compromising position, Chris eventually had them both standing. "Now, the aim is to get across the room without falling."

"Wanna dance," James mumbled.

"I'm sure you do, but I think I could get arrested for allowing that to happen," Chris said. Why he'd picked a table so far away from the bar was beyond him right now, but it probably had something to do with the vain hope that if he was tucked in a corner where no one could see, he wouldn't have to be responsible for James. Stupid thought, really. "One foot in front of the other, James. Get a rhythm going, that sort of thing."

"Want beer!" James shouted and threw his hand in the air, nearly cracking a passing patron a good one across the head.

Chris threw an apology at the disgruntled man and took the first step forward. It was unsteady and slightly dangerous on account of James' feet rebelling and trying to trip him up. Chris kicked James in the ankle and, miraculously, that seemed to help.

"Want beer!" James shouted again.

"Yeah, because the one thing you need right now is more alcohol," Chris said.

"Want beer."

"Fine, fine. There's more beer at the table."

They were making good progress (which is to say, they hadn't fallen over yet) when someone, probably the same guy James nearly hit, shoved James against Chris and he lost his balance for a second. James shouted something abusive over his shoulder which he thought was quite funny and he smacked Chris full in the chest with his free hand in what he thought was a friendly tap to prove just how funny he was.

The wind whooshed out of Chris and he sputtered. This resulted in James, who thought Chris was coughing, smacking him on the back with bruising force. Chris was bent double with the weight of the blows and James followed him down, still whacking him on the back.

Chris tried to wave at James for him to stop, but James was getting into a groove and went on hitting him. In desperation, Chris punched James in the leg, hard, and was rewarded with a knee to the shoulder that knocked him on the floor.

Without Chris there to lean on, James fell too. Unfortunately for Chris, he was between James and the floor.

When Chris got his breath back, he shoved James roughly until he was on the floor next to him.

"'M on the floor," James said.

"I fucking hate you," Chris muttered. He turned onto his stomach and sat up onto his knees. He looked at James. "What'd you hit me for, you bastard?"

"Thought you were choking," James said.

"And nearly putting my lungs through my ribcage is an effective way to stop that?"

"Yeah?"

Chris rolled his eyes. "Why do I put up with you?"

"'M great!" James answered, smiling again.

"That was rhetorical."

"No, it was a question," James said, looking like he'd missed something. Or like maybe Chris had. Chris laughed loudly.

"You're a drunken fuck, you really are," he said, still smiling and hooking his arms around James again, helping him up. Once they were standing, Chris pointed them in the direction of the table and started forward. They made it with minimal effort, though there had been a shaky point when they'd reached the table and AJ had walked past, still very obviously unamused. James had tried to reach out and cop a feel but Chris had planted a firm elbow in his ribs and took great satisfaction in hearing the air race out of his lungs.

A little bit of maneuvering and more than a little bit of swearing from James and they were both eventually seated. Chris called the waitress over and got them both another beer (though he wasn't sure of the wisdom of this move) and now James was hugging the bottle of Bud like it was an old friend, and Chris was trying to figure out if he had bruised lungs just by moving.

"I'm horny," James announced.

"Oh Christ," Chris said, burying his face into his hand.

"I'm really, really horny," James persisted.

"That's nice."

"I really am."

"Wonderful."

The lack of response was apparently something James was not going to let deter him.

"I want me some pussy."

"And I wouldn't mind some cock," Chris said, lifting his head and taking a long pull of his beer. "Looks like we're both going to go without."

James ignored him. "Where's that cute piece of ass I was talking to?"

"Probably crying in the bathroom," Chris said, when a quick scan for AJ came up short.

"Aw. Why's she doing that for?"

"Because she's a he," Chris said, looking at James. "You were trying to pick up AJ."

"Was not!"

"You were."

James seemed to think for a minute. "He mad?"

"Little bit."

"Why?"

"You groped him."

"Should be honoured," James said with sudden conviction. "'S a privilege."

"I'm sure AJ doesn't think so."

"Phili... thingy," James said.

"'Stine, possibly?"

"Yeah! One of 'em. Fucker doesn't know how lucky he is. Most people would kill for a grope from me."

"At this point, most people would just kill you," Chris muttered, but James wasn't listening. In fact, he was looking at the dance floor with distressing interest.

"I - "

"No you're not," Chris said flatly.

"Wha?"

"You're not dancing. The last time you danced in this condition four people had to go to hospital. One of them was me."

"But -"

"No."

James huffed. He grabbed his beer and drank it all. Then he grabbed Chris' and drank that too. Then he demanded more.

An hour later, the table had more beer bottles on it then was necessary and James was leaning against Chris, trying to explain just why he'd been in the tent and why there were bees outside of it. Chris didn't know why they were talking about this, and he was sure he'd missed part of the conversation, but all his concentration was focussed on not falling off his chair.

"... so then I said, you go outside, asshole!" James said, laughing so loudly in Chris' ear his eardrum rattled.

Chris laughed, but he had no idea why. Something about camping, maybe?

"You go outside, asshole!" James repeated, laughing again.

"Asshole!" Chris said, feeling like some sort of response was needed. He was sure the room shouldn't be spinning like that. James threw an arm around his neck and shook him violently, though in James' inebriated state, he thought it was quite gentle. Chris, on the other hand, tried to make his eyeballs stop bouncing around in the sockets.

"You're my best pal, you know that?" James asked suddenly. "My best, best pal. Buddy. 'S what you are."

Chris smiled. Or a close approximation of. He didn't want to try too much at once in case his face fell off.

"Best pal," James said again.

"Me too," Chris said, then frowned. "You are. Mine. You're mine. Best, I mean. Pal. Friend. Best friend!"

James grinned widely. "Even if 'm not a queer?"

"Even then!" Chris yelled triumphantly, then cheered. James joined in. This was the best night ever, though Chris couldn't figure out why.

"We should have sex," James announced.

"Yeah!" Chris agreed.

They thought for a few minutes.

"Not with each other though," Chris said.

James nodded, then seemed to think. Eventually he leaned closer to Chris and tried to lower his voice. "What's it feel like?"

"What?"

"Being fucked up the ass?"

Chris gave this due consideration. "'S great," he concluded.

"Really?" James asked, sounding surprised.

"Yeah!" Chris said.

"Excellent!" James cried, smacking Chris on the back in a congratulatory manner, which pitched Chris forward head first onto the table. James laughed loudly, hauling Chris back up by the hair. "Thought you could handle your drink?"

"Can," Chris said, smacking at James' hand. "Fucker."

James laughed again. "Then we should have shots!"

"Yeah!" Chris agreed.

Shots, as it turned out, wasn't a good idea.

"I can't see anything," James said.

Chris looked at him. "You gotta open your eyes, man. "

James opened his eyes. "Oh."

They were outside. Closing time had come and gone and they were now on the ever daunting quest to find home. James had tried to employ the help of a passing pedestrian, but since that had been AJ, they hadn't really gotten very far. In fact, they'd only gotten fifty yards from the bar. Neither one knew quite where home was, but they'd been fairly certain that it was in this general direction and, using each other to hold themselves up, they'd set off.

"I need a piss," James said after five minutes of walking.

"Me too."

"Good."

As one man, they turned to a wall. There was a few minutes of confusion, where James tried to undo Chris' belt, but a smack from Chris sorted things out and the happy groans of two very drunken men relieving themselves were heard.

"James?"

"Huh?

"I think we're pissing on someone's door."

"I know. Great, ain't it?"

When they'd finished, they got back to the task of finding home, swaying gently from the path to the road and back again.

"We going in the right direction for Tennessee?" James asked.

"Not Tennessee," Chris said. "Motel. We're in a motel. Somewhere."

"We going in the right direction for the motel?"

"No idea."

"Oh," There was a brief moment of silence "Maybe we should call someone?"

"Who?" Chris asked.

James thought for a second, then said with a little too much gusto, "Eric!"

Chris shrugged and pulled out his phone. Three wrong numbers and a very peeved AJ later, Eric picked up. "Hello?"

"We're lost," Chris said into the phone.

"Lost and all alone!" James shouted.

"We need help," Chris said.

"So much help!" James shouted.

"We need a lift?" Chris tried.

"A lift!" James shouted. Chris smacked a hand over his mouth and tried not to laugh.

Eric sighed on the other end of the line. "I hate you guys."

Details were given. After a while.

Eric picked them up and dropped them off as quickly as the speed limit would allow.

When they were standing in front of their door, Chris set about trying to find the keys. It took him twenty minutes, but that was because James kept pushing him into the door and laughing about it. Eventually, Chris turned around and smacked him in the head. This resulted in a scuffle which neither man won, but both were on the floor by the end of it.

"Open the door," James commanded.

"Fuck off."

"Open it."

"Fuck. Off."

"Asshole."

Chris threw the keys at James' head.

Another brief scuffle later and James was trying to get the keyhole to stay still so he could insert the key. Eventually, things aligned themselves and after a quick twist, the door opened. Both men stumbled inside and Chris closed the door while James fell on the nearest bed.

"You're in my bed," Chris said when he turned around.

"So?"

"So get up."

"No."

"'M not sleeping in your bed."

"Sleep on the floor then," James said, trying to take his boots off while lying down.

"No," Chris said, making his way unsteadily towards the bed. He sat down and kicked his shoes off, then lay on the bed.

"Hey!" James protested. "I was here first!"

"Was not."

"Was!"

"Shut up," Chris said and shoved him. James shoved him back. Chris shoved James off the bed.

"Fucker!" James shouted from the floor.

"It's my bed," said Chris by way of explanation.

James struggled up to a kneeling position and hit Chris in the stomach. Chris folded up and James took the opportunity to crawl back onto the bed. Both men tried to remove the other but it wasn't working. James had the sheets in a death grip and Chris grabbed a handful of James' hair whenever James tried to unseat him. They were in a stalemate.

"'M not moving," said James.

"Me neither," said Chris.

"Fine."

"Fine."

There was silence. It lasted for five minutes.

"Wanna spoon?"

"Shut up James."

There was more silence, but this time the only thing that disturbed it was snoring.