VICTORY IS SWEET | Wynne

[IAN CONNOR SHEA]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] ALL I DO IS WIN, WIN, WIN NO MATTER WHAT The Words: 665 The Notes BROMANCE <3 It had been a pretty good day, by Ian’s standards. He’d woken up around 11:30 in the afternoon to find several half eaten boxes of pizza from the night before on his nightstand. Thinking nothing of it, he cracked one open and began chowing down on a slice as he tried to piece together the night before. Upon further inspection of his night stand he found a blue box, containing a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label. Surprised, but certainly not dismayed, Ian tried to think long and hard about how this could have possibly come into his possession…it was, after all a $225 bottle of whisky. Thoughts swimming around in his brain, the picture slowly came into focus. Last night he’d been playing poker with a relatively unscrupulous crowd of guys his bookie knew, at a shady dive bar a few neighborhoods over. He remembered that he’d told himself he better win big, or else face attempting to pick up some washed up divorcee at the bar with next to no money in his pocket. It wasn’t impossible, but it would have been a challenge. Ian figured either way he was a winner, but judging by the fact that he was home, he figured he must have won some good money…which would explain the expensive whisky. He felt around in his pants he’d worn the night before and carelessly tossed next to his bed, finding a decently thick wad of cash. A huge grin spread across his face as he flung it on his nightstand. He planned to use the money well, to pay off some of his outstanding credit card debt, but he was in far too good of a mood to go to the bank. Grabbing a glass from behind the makeshift wooden bar in his room at the Kappa Gamma Iota house, which he’d made during his brief stint as a construction major, and some ice cubes from his mini-fridge, he prepared for his first drink of the day. It was 11:30, that meant it was 5:30 PM somewhere in the world, which made it more than socially acceptable to have a drink in Ian’s book. He heard the ice cubes clink in the glass with anticipation of the divine liquid about to be poured over them. Upon opening the box which contained the bottle of liquor, Ian found his second prize of the day: two cigars. He knew there was only one reason he would have bought two, and that was because the second one was reserved for Wynne Evans, his partner in crime and favorite person in the world. Ian was fairly certain Wynne was in class and wouldn’t be home for awhile though. He poured himself a drink and tucked the bottle back into the box with the cigars. He casually strolled downstairs to the main part of the house wearing nothing but a pair of boxers that said “Ride My Sled” repeatedly all over them and a white tank top and his sheepskin house moccasins. Drink in one hand, pizza in the other, he took a seat on the sofa. Once he had finished both, he popped an old cassette into the VCR and pounded on the side of the TV to get the picture to come into focus. He reminded himself that the next time he came into some money, he ought to get a new TV for the house. He rolled out his yoga mat and began following along with the workout tape, no doubt left over from the 80s. Ian didn’t love yoga, but the classes at the gym seemed like a great place to troll for cougars, so Ian wanted to limber up some before giving it a try. He heard the door open behind him, and only hoped it could be Wynne. ”Is that you, Wynnie?” he said from the downward facing dog position, staring upside down and through his legs to see if it was, indeed, who he was waiting for. created by ADE! Pb-ified by WILL

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[wynne SHANNON evans]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-radius: 2em; -moz-border-radius: 2em; background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/14e9a45.jpg), width: 400px; height: 400px;] baby i'm a different breed ! THIS IS HOW I SHOW MY LOVE, I MADE IT IN MY MIND BECAUSE, BLAME IT ON MY ADD BABY. THIS IS HOW AN ANGEL CRIES, BLAME IT ON MY OWN SICK PRIDE, YEAH BLAME IT ON MY ADD BABY. SAIL ! Mornings changed significantly not so long ago for Wynne Evans. There was a time when, like his vice president, the Irishman woke up in a pile of bottles and condoms, rolled out of bed onto a beer-soaked floor and slouched his way into the bathroom to gargle with vodka. But then he got into a relationship one day by accident and suddenly he was getting up at a proper hour and eating real breakfasts and occasionally getting a bit of morning nookie. And that was kind of nice. Different, yes. But nice enough to stick around. Nice enough to let Florian keep cooking for him and taking care of him and loving him for whatever awful reasons. But sometimes Wynne did miss his lifestyle, his rock and roll days of random sex, being beat up by strangers, glory holes and weird nights of weird acts with weird people. Sometimes he missed his frat brothers, the feeling he got from being the man, from having the pledges look up to him and want what he had! So he pretended. Wynne didn't have random sex but he pretended he did. He didn't get drunk and have wild stupid nights but he pretended he did. He kept up the act of being some star because of the way it made him felt worth something. And that was the guy Florian first fell in love with, wasn't it? So his pretending wasn't hurting anyone. He didn't cheat on Florian, he didn't cheat on his frat brothers, everyone was happy. Except Shea, it seemed. Well Shea was generally happy. Or maybe content was a better word. Shea was generally fine but lately things were a bit off now and again. It wasn't right. Wynne hadn't even beenat Litton-Colwell all that long but he couldn't think of a time when he and Ian weren't friends. It felt like they had been forever, like they were friendship soulmates as gay as it sounded. Ian looked out for Wynne. Why he'd never know, but the man did it all the same. It was nice to feel like someone had his back and so it was mostly for Ian's sake that Wynne tried to keep things as much the same as possible. He did spend some nights in the Kappa house because he had a room there, because it was where his brothers expected him to be, because it felt right. His night had been spent with Florian for the most part, but at some point during the wee hours Wynne must have crawled to the Kappa house and flopped down in his bed. His bed. Not their bed. The illusion of the smell of bacon woke the Irishman not long after his vice president toddled out of his room, and soon enough Wynne was following him downstairs in his flannel pajama pants. The first thing to greet him was Ian's nearly bare ass, so Wynne smacked it as hard as possible, as you do. "Why are you so fucking sexy?" As usual the words were very light and casual, said in passing as he made his way to the couch. "You're up early." Wynne threw himself down onto the couch, limbs hanging over the arms and sides lazily. His face was turned to the wavering television. "If you're looking to get fit, a good start would be to lay off the booze, mate. Or at least cut back." ♥ ♥ ♥ template by hay shay ! @ caution 2.0 lurve yuuuu

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[IAN CONNOR SHEA]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] ALL I DO IS WIN, WIN, WIN NO MATTER WHAT The Words: 822 The Notes BROMANCE <3 Disoriented, Ian couldn’t lie and say he didn’t jump when Wynne greeted him by smacking his ass into next week. He knew he probably deserved it, after all, he was doing yoga in the middle of the house living room, which was a douchebag move if there ever was one. He chuckled to himself; he bet the Omegas probably had group yoga sessions led by some sexy girl that they had to pay to be there. Because everyone knew the only reason there would be girls around the Omegas was the fact that money attracted them like flies. Ian wasn’t into that. Mostly because he didn’t actually have money. He just looked like he did. Occasionally, he had most of his credit cards paid off, and that was considered a good day of living for Ian Shea. One of those days was well on their way, but it would never last long. As the saying goes, he had champagne tastes and a beer budget, but he rarely let that stop him. That’s what credit cards were FOR, living luxuriously until the time came when he would have a good job to actually be able to afford nice things. The thought of having a job caused Ian to shudder. Or he could always be a male escort, he supposed that would do. The thought of sexy older women hiring him out for his services caused a grin to pass over his features. That was a way to make a living doing something you loved. That happy thought in his mind, he shifted his weight from leg to leg, wiggling his ass around a bit. ”Mmmm, Evans, you know I like it rough like that,” Ian said and smirked. ”Thank you sir, may I have another?” he chuckled. He straightened up to move into warrior pose, taking the opportunity to rub his still stinging ass. He took a few deep breaths and paused contemplatively, ”And to answer your question,” he turned around and smiled at Wynne and he draped himself over the sofa, ”Confidence, Evans.” He winked, ”But considering you’ve seen me naked and decided to stick around, well, I don’t know, but I like to think it’s because of my perky nipples.” He continued following along with the outdated video, but only half heartedly. He was easily distracted, and even more so whenever Wynne was involved. For some reason, Ian had taken a dramatic liking to the boy whenever he’d been a pledge, and once he’d become a brother, the two had become thicker than thieves. They shared a colorful history, to say the least, but whatever ever happened between them was all well and good, because it was Wynne, his best friend. Whatever happened behind closed doors, was just that, something between best friends, when they were both incredibly wasted and barely even remembered the next day. It definitely didn’t make him bi, or gay, or whatever fucking label people tried to slap on things like that. He maintained that he was completely straight, and he’d deck anyone who accused him otherwise. Granted, he hadn’t needed to deck anyone recently and the whisperings throughout the Greek system had all but fizzled out since Wynne had started dating Florian. He had to disguise the grimace on his face at the thought of him. While above all else, he wanted Wynne’s happiness, there was just something off about Florian that didn’t sit well with Ian. He privately suspected that Florian was an international spy and serial killer, all at the same time. Sure, Flo was one of his brothers, and because of that, he could normally act civil in his presence. But he didn’t like Wynne being in a relationship. He didn’t like drunkenly stumbling into Wynne’s room and not finding his lanky friend passed out in his bed, surrounded by panties, beer, and usually nursing a black eye or a cut or two. It wasn’t normal, and to be frank, it made Ian feel a bit lonely. Sure, he had sort of branched out in the house when Wynne made himself scarcer, spending more time with Ciel, for example, but it wasn’t the same. Still, Ian wasn’t in the mood for deep thoughts. He was in the mood to enjoy the time he had with his friend, drinking good booze, and smoking what he could only imagine would be damn good cigars. Nothing was going to ruin this epic day. ”Lay off the booze? Me? That’s about as likely as rainbows shooting out Villeneuve’s ass.” He shifted into triangle pose and looked back at Wynne, ”Besides, I have an incredible physique. I’m just working on my flexibility. Three words, Evans. Hot. Yoga. Class. What could be better than a bunch of sexy older ladies contorting their bodies into all sort of fun positions in a sweltering studio? I’m going to a class next week, but I don’t want to look like a noob.” created by ADE! Pb-ified by WILL

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[wynne SHANNON evans]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-radius: 2em; -moz-border-radius: 2em; background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/14e9a45.jpg), width: 400px; height: 400px;] baby i'm a different breed ! THIS IS HOW I SHOW MY LOVE, I MADE IT IN MY MIND BECAUSE, BLAME IT ON MY ADD BABY. THIS IS HOW AN ANGEL CRIES, BLAME IT ON MY OWN SICK PRIDE, YEAH BLAME IT ON MY ADD BABY. SAIL ! "Confidence? Fuck off." The younger male grinned and chucked whatever he could find at Shea, which happened to be an empty beer can. What a dick the man was. Of course, in Wynne Land 'dick' was a good thing in all forms. He found himself attracted to knobby personalities somehow. He'd never say Florian wasn't a knob, his best friend absolutely was a knob and Wynne himself was King Knob, though that he would deny. It was true, though, that everyone was attracted to confidence. Thinking back, he couldn't remember a time he'd gone out of his way to bring someone out of their shell, try to make them open up. What a fucking pain in the ass. Why couldn't people all just be awesome? Feeling around on the floor, Wynne came up with a can of beer that was still half full and took a swig, watching Ian do his clumsy yoga. He did miss the lifestyle. Wynne tried to tell himself frequently that he didn't, thatcooling off was good for him, but it wasn't. He had too much energy. It wasn't often that he actually wanted to just sit around and talk. The man was lazy, that much was true, but those were the days he was happy to just lie in bed with Florian and see how hard he could bite the man while he was sleeping without getting in trouble. The rest of the time he was restless, harboring this feeling of needing to go and do something and jump and fuck someone up and scream and cry and push babies into rivers. Being in a relationship was nice, and he was happy, but balancing it with everything else was difficult because it meant he had to stop so many things that his social life revolved around. Wynne wished Florian had more friends, so he could run away and spend time with Shea and Fuckface and not feel awful for leaving his boyfriend at home, alone, crippled and probably calling his mother as always. "Hotter than old ladies doing yoga? Uh, young sexy ladies doing yoga you sick fuck." The Irishman snorted, shaking his head. "You're so fucked in the head, Shea, I honestly don't know how you trick anyone into sleeping with you. Can they not see the fucked up shit that goes on in your brain or is that just me who has the pleasure?" Sprawling out lazily on the couch, beer can balanced on his stomach, Wynne was happy to watch his best friend's body 'contort into fun positions'. Nobody said he couldn't look. ♥ ♥ ♥ template by hay shay ! @ caution 2.0 lurve yuuuu

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[IAN CONNOR SHEA]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] ALL I DO IS WIN, WIN, WIN NO MATTER WHAT The Words: 521 The Notes BROMANCE <3 Ian lost his balance upon having the beer can chucked at him. He attempted to check his balance, but managed to fall over onto the floor. He sat there looking dejected for a moment before give Wynne and look that clearly said ”Really, bro?” He laughed though, it’s not like he was taking yoga seriously anyway. He didn’t really take much of anything seriously, and more was just killing time before Wynne turned up, as Ian knew he would, eventually. Still though, before he’d fallen over, he’d thought he’d felt eyes on him. Part of why Ian was so successful with women, was because he could tell which ones were checking him out. He would just get a mild tingling sensation on the surface of his skin, and he’d felt it just now. Wynne had been staring, but it didn’t bother him. He definitely snuck his looks every now and then, more often than not in an attempt to get some sort of emotional response out of Florian. Ian shook his head, ”No dude, you gotta come with me, you don’t even know. The class at the Y, there’s this hot group of moms who come in after they drop their brats off at school. Most of them have these nice big fake tits, man, you just want to like, wedge your head in there and just… he blew a raspberry with his lips and then chuckled, ”Motorboat the shit out of ‘em.” Ian laughed. ”Besides. These freshman girls now, I’m like, practically old enough to be their dads. I mean, you know, a little father daughter role play every now and again in the bedroom, not gonna lie, kinda kinky, but I don’t fancy actually being a pedophilic sex offender.” Ian got up and flopped down on the couch next to Wynne and rested his hand on the top of Wynne’s thigh, ”Oh, don’t worry baby, it’s just for you.” He winked and rested his arm on the back of the couch, stretching himself out on the lopsided cushion. He reminded himself not to reach in between the cushions or lift up any throw pillows. Who knew how many pairs of underwear he’d find, as if the ones on the wall weren’t enough. He also made a mental note to start stealing panties from the cougars he hooked up with, to start a collection on his own wall, of course. ”So you’ll never guess what I ended up with last night,” Ian said and a huge shit eating grin spread across his face. ”But feel free to try.” He watched as Wynne drank the half open beer he’d found on the floor from the night before. Ian moved to take it out of his hand, ”Dude, don’t drink that. AIDS, man. Plus, I have something way better for you. Consider that your first and only clue. Guess.” Ian crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back into the sofa. He had no intention of budging until Wynne either offered him a few guesses, or decked him. Depending on the Irishman’s mood this morning, Ian knew either was a possibility. created by ADE! Pb-ified by WILL

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[wynne SHANNON evans]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-radius: 2em; -moz-border-radius: 2em; background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/14e9a45.jpg), width: 400px; height: 400px;] baby i'm a different breed ! THIS IS HOW I SHOW MY LOVE, I MADE IT IN MY MIND BECAUSE, BLAME IT ON MY ADD BABY. THIS IS HOW AN ANGEL CRIES, BLAME IT ON MY OWN SICK PRIDE, YEAH BLAME IT ON MY ADD BABY. SAIL ! "I'm so not taking part in your freaky games, Ian. You're a sick bastard." Even as he said the words, Wynne was laughing. Ian really was a sick fuck, but if he wasn't they wouldn't be friends. Or at least they wouldn't be best friends. Wynne loved him because he was vile and raunchy and hilarious, and being attractive really did help his cause. The Irishman was pretty sure on some level it was the only reason he himself had any friends -- because Wynne was lovely to look at. Disgusting, dumb, slow, cheap and easy, but very much attractive. Even if Ian's personality wasn't perfectly compatible with Wynne's, they would have to be friends because he was nice to look at. Hell, it was the reason Wynne sat down next to Florian in the first place. It was the reason he ever glanced Shani's way, the reason Avery hadn't been tormented to the point of suicide. It was the reason anyone survived. Wynne really was as shallow as he came off. "Besides, I think it'd be pretty lame to go there, put the work in, and not be able to shag anyone. That's like going into a restaurant just to sniff the food, mate! Why would I want to do that?" It was sad how wholly altered his life was with the loss of partying and the existence of his relationship. Which was weird all in itself. Wynne couldn't stop thinking about how fucked up it was to be in a relationship at all. The last time he cared that much about someone, he gave away the last of his innocence in favor of taking care of a family that wasn't even fucking his. It was weird to care. It was scary and unwelcome. And it made him think about things, which he absolutely fucking hated. Wynne wasn't a great thinker to start with but now, all he could do was think. That wasn't right. Which was one of the reasons his times with Ian, though few, were precious. It felt like being back how they used to be, wild and free and without a fuck in the world. They could do whatever they wanted! They could trash the Omega house while the poncy princes were away, steal the panties of the Alpha girls and get elbowed in the face when they were caught, get piss drunk and make out feel each other up in the grungy bathroom of some equally grungy pub. It felt like things were the same, but they weren't. Not any more. "I'd say a pair of balls but I know that's not true. Uh..." The Irishman stuck his legs across his friend's lap and sat up, peering at Ian's form as if that might somehow give him a clue. "For the last time, I do not want your cock mate. Stop trying to stick it in me." He grinned cheekily. "I don't know Ian. You got a new phone. You got pregnant. You got..." Wynne glanced down at his beer and took a sip. "AIDS?" ♥ ♥ ♥ template by hay shay ! @ caution 2.0 lurve yuuuu

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[IAN CONNOR SHEA]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] ALL I DO IS WIN, WIN, WIN NO MATTER WHAT The Words: 850 The Notes BROMANCE <3 When most other people called Ian a sick bastard, he usually pretended some level of indignation and disgust. However, coming from the Kappa Iota Gamma president, it was among the highest forms of compliment. Ian knew he was fucked in the head. He didn’t exactly have a traumatic past or anything of that nature that pointed out that he should be as demented as he was. Years later, down the road, should he decide to become a productive member of society with a job, wife, and kids (he shuddered at the very idea of it) he would simply blame his years of dementia on too much booze, other recreational drugs, and too many years spent in a fraternity in college. That combination could pretty much explain away anything, of that he was certain. Ian’s spirits fell just a little bit at Wynne’s restaurant analogy. ”Oh…” he paused awkwardly, ”Right.” His tone clearly indicated his disapproval, which he did at least usually make an effort to hide for the sake of his friend’s happiness. ”Tell me, why are you in a relationship again?” he playfully punched Wynne on the arm, ”I miss my wingman. It’s awful hard to play ‘Have You Met Ian?’ when you are Ian, dude.” That thought definitely helped to keep his spirits up. Have You Met Ian was one of his favorite games. Without his wingman though, it was more than likely going to turn into Have You Met Little Ian…which had a lot more potential for getting him arrested as amusing as that would be. Ian was going to be damned though if he spent his time with Wynne being bummed out over Florian. Florian. God, life had been so much better without the likes of that sociopath. It wasn’t that Ian could pin anything wrong about him down, it was just that he felt an uneasiness around him. But Florian was certainly not going to ruin a cigars and fine whisky afternoon. No sir, Ian simply would not stand for it, so he took those thoughts and pushed them into a far deep corner of his mind, probably the same corner where he stored his Lucy Lawless fantasies; Xena Warrior Princess, bitches! Yiyiyiyi! ”Ohhhh aren’t we clever this morning? Ian joked, waving his hands around in front of him. ”I already have a set of those bro, not sure why I’d need a back up. No one is taking my manhood for tearing up at the end of Marley and Me, okay? It’s perfectly acceptable.” God, Ian hated that movie. Girls often joked about “Notebook-ing” guys, making them watch the movie The Notebook, listening to them cry, and then not even having the courtesy to fuck them afterwards. The difference with Ian and Marley and Me was that it worked like a charm on getting the animal lovers into bed with him without having to deal with the awkwardness of “Oh my god, I just want us to love like Noah and Allieeeee.” Because clearly that never happened to anyone. What kind of sap sat around writing letters to some broad every day for a year and fixing up some beat up old house. That was a lot of work for sex you could probably get elsewhere. And cheaper, at that. Ian threw his hands up in defeat, Damn it all, that was it, Evans. My cock. I was hoping to catch you by surprise and get you to give in to my,” he paused for dramatic effect and tickled the back of Wynne’s knee, since he had spread his legs out across Ian’s lap, “gentlemanly wiles, but no such luck.” He looked over at the other man with the most pathetic puppy dog eyes ever, ”Not even just the tip?” A grin spread across his face and he laughed. ”Seriously though. Nope, nope, and nope. It’s way better than any of that. Well, except for maybe my cock, but y’know…definite close second.” Satisfied with Wynne’s guesses, he slipped out from beneath Wynne’s legs and went back the hall to his room, stopping at the edge of the common space to yell back, ”Dude, seriously. Don’t drink that. And close your eyes! I promise not to be naked when I come back or anything weird like that.” Once in his room, Ian grabbed two more glasses, ice, and poured the whisky over it. He took the two cigars in hand and found one of many Bic lighters that seemed to find their way into his room. He then tucked the bottle back in the box and haphazardly hid it behind a row of books. Booze had a habit of disappearing around the Kappa house if you weren’t careful, and while most were careful around Ian because of his seniority in the house and his willingness to deck people, he still took a few simple precautions, especially with some valuable bounty. Walking back into the living room he stood before Wynne, the two glasses perched in one hand, the cigars and the lighter in the other. ”Alright bro, open your eyes, and prepare to be amazed.” created by ADE! Pb-ified by WILL

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[wynne SHANNON evans]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-radius: 2em; -moz-border-radius: 2em; background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/14e9a45.jpg), width: 400px; height: 400px;] baby i'm a different breed ! THIS IS HOW I SHOW MY LOVE, I MADE IT IN MY MIND BECAUSE, BLAME IT ON MY ADD BABY. THIS IS HOW AN ANGEL CRIES, BLAME IT ON MY OWN SICK PRIDE, YEAH BLAME IT ON MY ADD BABY. SAIL ! Ah yes, the cock. Best surprise ever. Wynne found himself laughing before he even realized it was happening, both at the other man's words and just the familiar feeling of it all. Being back here, on that grungy couch in the dilapidated building all the boys within it called 'home'. It was where they belonged. They weren't good athletes like the Lambdas, they weren't smart or creative like the Omegas, they just were they existed in this constant state of uselessness and somehow that drew them together. They were all bound, the lot of them, by this common feeling of having nothing to give to the world. They were probably closer than the others, in any frat or sorority. They shared women, alcohol, grimy cum socks, pizza, room on the couch, phone times. They shared everything they had, like some sort of community pool thing, because all they really had of worth was each other. That bond was so ridiculous, so unexpected, and impossibly strong. "I'm in a relationship just to prove I can be. I'm in it for the sex. I'm in it for fun. Fuck off, Ian, none of your bloody business." Closing his eyes obediently, the Irishman sat up a bit cautiously on the couch and folded his legs. He was chastised twice for drinking his beer but that didn't stop him. Did it matter, really? What was the worst that could happen? He'd get the snifflies from some random and be in bed for a day. Really, Ian was overreacting. Probably jokingly, but still.Wynne didn't worry about shit like that, shit like drinking from a mysterious open beer can. This was the man who drank bad milk, ate moldy cheese, licked coffee off the grimy counter tops. Wynne had never, ever cared about things like hygiene and it was unlikely he ever would. When he was allowed to open his eyes, the first thing Wynne noticed was that Ian wasn't naked, as promised. That was a good first step. Then he spotted alcohol and cigars in the man's hands and he positively lit up. All thoughts of day old beer were forgotten. "Ah, brilliant!" Wynne wasn't shy in reaching forward and helping himself to a glass of the alcohol and a cigar. "Where did you find this shit? You steal it from an Omega?" The thought had him laughing lightly again. "We both know you didn't buy it because you're broke as fuck, and you wouldn't spend more than twenty bucks on me. But if you did, I'm fucking flattered mate!" He snatched up the offered lighter now, too, and lit his cigar while the glass of booze balanced a little precariously on one bony knee. "What's the occasion?" ♥ ♥ ♥ template by hay shay ! @ caution 2.0 lurve yuuuu

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[IAN CONNOR SHEA]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] ALL I DO IS WIN, WIN, WIN NO MATTER WHAT The Words: 656 The Notes BROMANCE <3 Ian chuckled at Wynne’s reaction to his recipe for a wonderful afternoon. Seeing Wynne happy made Ian happy. Ian was typically a pretty self centered and selfish sort of guy. He was protective of his friends, sure, but he didn’t exactly go very far out of his way to do nice things for them. There was something about Wynne though, probably the way his face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning, that made Ian much more obliged to share his wealth, when he had it. That kind of happiness was contagious, and considering most mornings Ian had to have a few drinks before he could get that smile on his face, it was nice to be around that contagious kind of happiness every now and again. Because, Lord knew, if Ian didn’t get his booze on, things got bad. He got irritable, he got angry, and instead of the chilled out, fucked up, hilarious Ian, people got insufferable, moody, violent Ian. Some people said things they regretted later when they drank, Ian did it sober. He wasn’t big on apologies either, which had a tendency to make things kind of awkward and tense at points. ”Nah, bro, not today anyway.” Ian chuckled though. The Kappas had stolen so much shit from the Omegas over the years. Given that those rich bastards had so much shit lying about anyway, they always doubted that they would actually miss anything, or even notice it was gone, and just buy another one. The Kappas, on the other hand, rarely had things stolen from them. Mostly, that was because most people weren’t interested in the collection of crusty panties on the wall, the ancient television, the dilapidated and falling apart furniture, or the various stolen neon signs that only worked some of the time. The Kappas didn’t have much in the way of material goods, but you could bet that if anyone tried to take it, they’d defend it until they were unconscious. When you didn’t have a lot to hang onto, you just clung to it that much more tenaciously. ”This, my friend, is what I woke up to this morning,” Ian said as he sank into the sofa again, pausing to take a sip of the delicious whisky. ”You know my bookie, Fast Eddie? Well, he tipped me off a few weeks ago about this group of shady dudes who play a pretty high stakes poker match once a month. I guess I bet on the right horse this week and won enough to cover the buy in, so I decided to head over to this game. Pretty sure that 3 of the 5 guys at the table were packing some kind of heat, and one of the other guys was probably in the mafia…well he was Italian anyway.” ”Well I guess I must have won, because I woke up with this,” Ian held up the glass of whiskey, “Johnnie Walker Blue, best fucking whisky on the planet,” he raised his glass as if to toast before gulping down another swig. It went down smooth but had a bit of a burn at the very end of it. Kind of like sex with an Alpha Beta Phi. ”And these two cigars, which I can only assume are probably highly illegal to possess here in the US because I’m pretty sure I probably won them off that sketchy Cuban guy with the porn mustache.” Ian shrugged, ”And the huge wad of cash I found in my pants this morning wasn’t bad either. For awhile anyway, the living is good for Ian Shea and company.” ”So, the occasion, is that Ian Shea is the fucking man. Winning, bro, winning.” He balanced his glass on the arm of the sofa, praying it wasn’t the one that liked to fall off every now and again and took the cigar in hand, ”Light me?” Ian asked, holding the cigar to his lips. created by ADE! Pb-ified by WILL

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[wynne SHANNON evans]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-radius: 2em; -moz-border-radius: 2em; background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/14e9a45.jpg), width: 400px; height: 400px;] baby i'm a different breed ! THIS IS HOW I SHOW MY LOVE, I MADE IT IN MY MIND BECAUSE, BLAME IT ON MY ADD BABY. THIS IS HOW AN ANGEL CRIES, BLAME IT ON MY OWN SICK PRIDE, YEAH BLAME IT ON MY ADD BABY. SAIL ! Winning indeed. And that was quite a story, too! Wynne questioned how much of it was real and how much of it was just shit Ian thought would sound good to say, but in the end he found he didn't care. Whatever happened, however the man came into such fancy things as cigars and expensive fucking whiskey, Wynne didn't care. It was just nice to get to hang out with Ian, sit there on the Kappa couch where they'd all been through so much -- the STI scares, waiting for pizza so parties could finally start, curled up half naked with each other drunk and covered in vomit, sharing a sweet gay kiss or two and not knowing what it means but choosing to laugh it off nervously and pretend it didn't feel nice -- and just have a cigar, some nice booze, and lie around with no agenda, no goal in mind or end game. Wynne heaved a content sigh and leaned over, lighting Ian's cigar for him. "That's pretty fucking impressive, mate. And so you choose to share it with me of all people? Wouldn't this be better saved for after your hot yoga class?" The Irishman grinned over at his company, nudging Ian with a foot playfully. "Yannow, cozy up to some old wrinkly-snatched thing, pop a cigar in her face and watch the sun set? 'Cuz old broads love that sort of fluffy, lame shit. Still, I'm flattered you stuck with me! God, what a thing to wake up to, huh?" Leaning back, Wynne let himself sink partially into the mangled, grungy couch with his drink and his cigar. He closed his eyes happily. "Jesus that's nice. So what've we got on the agenda today? For the next hour to two hours I'm assuming we'll be sat here drinking, chain smoking and talking about snatches ranging from pretty and pink to floppy and vile, and then we should go out! You know, do some more drinking and chain smoking? Maybe pick you up a nasty cougar or six to keep you entertained? You know I hear there's this new strip joint opening that's got a cougar night. All these rank old ladies pole dancing and rubbing their raunchy fannies all over everything. I'll take you, yeah? It'll be great!" ♥ ♥ ♥ template by hay shay ! @ caution 2.0 lurve yuuuu

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