"I. Will..."

"Don't."

Chase smiled, and it was toothy, and it was tired. He looked nearly twice as old as Caleb who, still in college, still knew better. Chase hadn't been about to threaten to kill him. Again.

Then again that might have been exactly what he'd meant to do. Caleb was already carrying a double dose, tripling -- no, quadrupling the load might be too much for him. Even him. Especially him, with addiction running hot in his blood.

No it isn't, Pogue said sometimes. Pogue wasn't here right now.

Caleb felt his lip curling in slight disgust and turned away before Chase could see the expression on his face. Their truce was fragile enough; he didn't want to break it.

"Sorry."

He shook his head. "No, you're not."

Chase took a breath and let it out loud enough for Caleb to hear, and the sound made him turn around again. "No, I guess I'm not." Caleb stared. That had been more truth than he'd expected.

"What is wrong with you? Don't," he interrupted, before Chase could go off into a long tirade about exactly what was wrong with him, down to the last magically-twisted molecule. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

This time it was Chase's lip curling upwards into something between a smirk and a scowl, and the other boy shook his head. "For all I know that's exactly what's wrong with me. Don't tell me that all that extra power your daddy gave you isn't fucking with your head."

He couldn't. That was the shit-job part of it, he couldn't say that Chase had been wrong in his thinking because Chase hadn't really known any better, not really. Not where he had been convinced. He hadn't grown up with the kind of fear and respect for his power that the four of them had. He hadn't had a living example to deal with, watching his father age and wither in front of his eyes.

Okay, the trying to kill them part, that had been wrong. With a capital Wrong, and he'd still fight Chase over that and these days, win every time. But the rest of it.

The rest of it was why they kept meeting in this bar, night after broken night, away from the other three and their mistaken impressions of what might be going on when two mortal enemies met for a drink.

"What can I say," Chase said finally, evidently not coming up with anything better. "I'm just a bastard."

Take a drink.

They both coughed and sputtered on their beer, laughing just a little. Any time someone calls Chase a bastard, whether it's Caleb or Chase himself, take a drink. Any time Caleb brings up daddy issues, whether it's his or Chase's, take a drink. The first time either of them brings up what happened at Spenser during senior year, that person pays for the night's tab. It kept them honest. It kept them from bringing up explosive subjects that would most likely result in a bigger bill than a bar tab.

There were a few other rules, but most of them amounted to getting even more drunk. Caleb realized something, belatedly, and pointed a finger at him. "You cheated. You did that deliberately."

"Nothing in the rules against it," Chase pointed a finger back at him, mocking, but not in the nasty way. "Nothing in the rules against drinking between times either."

That was true. Caleb shrugged and took another drink.

"Why the hell were you going to do a stupid thing like that, anyway?" Caleb asked, dragging his mind back to a second ago when Chase had been about to commit suicide right there in front of him at the table. In public. That could have gotten explosive. Powers exploding indoors and all.

Chase shrugged. "Dunno. Seemed like the thing to do at the time."

"And, what, the part where it kills you just, that's just an added bonus?" Caleb thought about chewing on his glass but decided against it. He was more irritated than truly pissed off, but there had to be some way of showing it.

The other boy, man, whatever, blinked at him slowly and with the exaggerated focus of the heading towards extremely drunk. "You're really upset about that, aren't you?"

"Damn right I'm..." But that wasn't right. That didn't seem right, or at least, why should he care if Chase lived or died? Chase had tried to kill him. And Sarah, and almost killed Pogue and Kate, and half a dozen other things he was sure he should be more pissed off about right about now. Except they agreed not to talk about that.

And except that when it came down to it, Chase had sort of become, maybe not his friend but at least something like it. Someone who understood. Someone who, when talked out of his tree, could at least listen and provide perspective on life's little problems like too much power and the need to do something about it that wasn't you're stronger than this, Caleb or I know you'll do the right thing. Besides, wasn't that the right thing to do? Wasn't that the 'good guy' thing to do, make friends and forgive your enemy?

"Fuck that forgiveness shit," Caleb muttered, taking another drink.

"Fuck it right in the eye," Chase agreed cheerfully, out of beer by now. He must have finished it when Caleb wasn't looking. Great.

Caleb eyed him some more. "Are you done making stupid threats and trying to drive me even more crazy than you already have? Because, seriously, man, the last thing I need is your heritage and mine to deal with."

Chase waved a hand, dismissing heritages, threats, and Caleb's potential insanity. "Yeah, sure, whatever."

He should probably be worried about how much Chase had been drinking. How much he had been drinking, except these little excursions were the only time he so much as thought about getting really trashed, and he usually wound up as Chase's designated driver anyway. And when things got bad enough that he actually called up the other guy and dragged him out to their anonymous bar to get drunk and avoid their problems by getting on each others nerves, well, those were usually the times when he might benefit from getting a little drunk. And as Chase had so eloquently put it, fuck it. Fuck it right in the eye.

"I know what's wrong with you," Caleb pointed a finger at Chase, who pointed one right back at him and cocked an inquisitive eyebrow. "Your glass is empty. That's what's wrong with you."

"You know, I think you're right about that." The finger came up to signal the nearest server. "Hey! Two more beers, on him."

"Bastard."

"Take a drink."

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