((I lied I can always make time for writing, I just have to cram study faster. But from now on I'm fully devoted to studying for the rest of the week.))

Scott jumped slightly when the doorbell rang. He looked up at the wall clock. 8:15pm. He grinned to himself. Fashionably late. Somehow, that suited Oliver's personality all too well.

He hopped off of the couch and made his way to his front door, opening it. Oliver was leaning in the doorway, wearing jeans that hung dangerously low on his hips, part of his toned stomach showing beneath a long-sleeved t-shirt the same shade of green as his eyes. Despite his very not-single status, Scott found his eyes drawn to the sight of him.

"You gonna invite me in, querido? Or are we just gonna stand out in the cold all night?" Oliver had a playful smile on his lips - he'd noticed Scott staring.

"Oh, right. Yeah, come on in," Scott stepped back from the door to allow room for Oliver, who sauntered inside, his hands in his pockets.

"You gotta nice place here, muchacho," Oliver slowly turned around, taking it in. "Is it yours or rented?"

"Rented," Scott said, looking around at his house as well. It was really not all that great. It was clean and tidy, sure. but the walls were in desperate need of re-painting, not to mention the hole in the wall from when Scott punched it that night Vincent tried to apologise to him.

"Hm. Tell me, how did Vincent react when he heard I'd be crashing the party? I'm sure he was absolutely enthralled," Oliver grinned deviously. "Bet he can't wait."

Scott completely froze, his eyes widening as he realised what he had - or more, hadn't - done. Oh sh...

He felt Oliver behind him, "Uh oh. You haven't told him yet, have you?"

Scott shrugged sheepishly, "No? But he'll understand! You've had a harsh time of it, Ollie. You deserve a break. Plus, it'll be kind of fun, don't you think? My two best friends hanging out..."

"We're more than best friends, carino," Oliver said. "We're at least best friends with benefits. Eh, it's a shame. Maybe I'll just go my own way. I don't want to get on the wrong side of that gilipollas. He seems insistent on protecting you."

"Uh-uh, I'm not having any of that," Scott said. "Vincent's just going to have to deal with it. I'm taking you out, and that's final."

"Taking me out, huh?" Oliver smiled at him, leaning against the kitchen bench, "Sounds an awful lot like a date."

"Ha. 'Fraid not. It's Vincent and my date, actually," Scott explained.

"So? You can just make it a double-date," Oliver shrugged as if it was obvious, "Speaking of the cabron, when does he arrive?"

Scott looked up at the clock, "Not until nine. Another 40 minutes."

Oliver's eyebrows hiked, "You invited me over an entire hour before your date arrives?" He straightened up, walking over to Scott, "Was there something you wanted to get off your chest before he comes? Some... tension you wanted to relieve?" He began to walk forward, pushing Scott gently back onto the couch as he did so, sliding onto his lap.

Scott blushed up at him for a moment, then a huge grin burst out over his face and he began laughing.

Oliver paused, then reluctantly grinned back at him; Scott's laughter was contagious, "What? What's so funny? I'm being serious, here."

"No, it's just- You're so similar to Vincent. It's hilarious!" Scott controlled his giggles, "I'm sorry. Your offer is very tempting, believe me, but I am in a relationship."

Oliver's grin disappeared all at once, "Esperar un segundo - you and Vincent? I thought you were just dating."

"Oh, yeah, no. No, we've been boyfriends for about a week, now," Scott smiled at him.

"Really?" For just a second, Scott saw a flicker of something in his eyes, like a puppy dog that had just been kicked in the ribs.

Linda was right. He did look like a troubled person.

Next second though, the grin was back, "Well, you mighta told me that earlier, querido. Here I was thinkin' I really had a chance with you! Oh well, guess you'll just have make do with two boyfriends." He winked at Scott and then hopped off his lap, standing up again. He looked as carefree as ever. "So what did you have in mind to do for an hour, if not me?"

"Not sure," Scott said. "Just talking, I guess."

"Talking, huh?" Oliver sat down on the couch opposite Scott, "Alright. What did you want to talk about?"

"I don't know," Scott said. He shrugged slightly, "What is life like in Mexico?"

"That depends," Oliver laughed, kicking his legs up on the couch and lying back. Scott noticed his boots were slightly high-heeled and briefly wondered whether Oliver had ever cross-dressed. "Where in Mexico?"

"Well, I mean, what was life like for you? Growing up?" Scott leaned back on the couch. He had a feeling Oliver's life story would be interesting, to put it mildly.

Oliver turned his head and looked at Scott. His eyes had that same lost look about them, but his grin never faded, "I appreciate what you're trying to do here, mi amor, but lo prometo, my life story is boring and not in the least exciting."

Scott frowned slightly, "Well, I know that's not true. But you don't want to talk about it, so I'll drop it."

"Thank you," Oliver said, then looked back up at the roof. "It doesn't matter, anyway. Who we were. What we did to get here. As long as we're here now."

That only made Scott twice as curious as he ever had been, but he passed it off. Oliver didn't want to talk about it, and he could respect that. Still, Scott hoped that one day, he'd learn more about his friend.

The rest of the remaining thirty minutes was spent quickly with casual banter and meaningless conversation. Oliver's financial worries were completely driven out of Scott's mind. It was hard to imagine a guy as lovable and relaxed as Ollie ever having anything in the world wrong with him. In fact, had you seen him in the street, you would have thought he was a real player, a rich kid breezing through life for the sheer fun of it. He had this air of confidence that simply oozed off of him, and yet he never came across as arrogant or obnoxious. And he always listened, and never spoke over the top of Scott. As long as Vincent didn't get in the way, Scott thought he might have found a true best friend in the Mexican.

When the doorbell rang for the second time that night, Oliver shared a mischievous glance with Scott, "Here goes everything, amigo."

Scott hopped off of the couch, sighing. He hoped Vincent wouldn't overreact and freak out. "You stay here. I'll go introduce him to the subject as gently as I can."

"Nosotros ambos vamos a ser asesinada. Lo dejo todo para usted," Oliver mumbled under his breath.

"I can't speak Spanish," Scott reminded him.

"Just finialising my will, carino," Oliver teased.

Scott scoffed, rolling his eyes. He walked over to the front door and sighed, opening it.

Vincent stood on the other side of the door. He grinned at Scott, "Hello, handsome. I see you're wearing the shirt we bought together."

"Yeah," Scott looked down at his 'Yaoi Fangirl' shirt, "And the skinny jeans. What do you think?"

"Mouth-watering," Vincent replied.

Scott laughed, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around Vincent's neck. He leaned up and kissed his lips a few times, which Vincent eagerly returned.

"Hon..." Scott mumbled between kisses, "Do you... mind if I... invited... a friend along...?"

Vincent paused for a moment, pulling away from Scott, "A friend? Baby, I was gonna take you out tonight. A proper date, just you and me..."

Scott's eyebrows lifted adorably, his brown eyes widening, "I know, I'm sorry. It's just... this friend was having a really bad time at the moment and I wanted to help out. He doesn't have to hang with us..."

Vincent sighed, "What if he's homophobic?"

"Already checked," Scott leaned up again, blinking his eyes, "I promise, I'll dance with you as much as I can."

Vincent didn't reply to that, just pulled Scott into a passionate kiss, their arms winding around each other and their eyes closing.

When he opened his eyes again, Oliver was standing just a little way behind Scott.

"Mmf!" Vincent pushed Scott away roughly, "This is the friend you invited?! How long has he been here for?! What have you two been doing?! I thought I told you to stay away from that mutt!"

"He's not a mutt," Scott insisted.

"Woof," Oliver contributed, rather unhelpfully, causing Scott to send him an unimpressed glance from over his shoulder.

"No. No, no, no. It's bad enough that you didn't check with me first. What is this illegal immigrant doing in your house without me?" Vincent frowned, looking at Scott, "What the hell were you two doing?"

"Vincent," Scott soothed, "Didn't I promise you? I'm a man of my word. We were just chatting, is all. He was telling me about Mexico. Look, he lost his job and just wants to let off some steam. C'mon, Vin. Trust me."

Vincent glared at Scott, then glared at Oliver, "If you step one toe out of line, I will personally snap your neck."

"Woof, woof," Oliver replied, saluting back at Vincent with mock seriousness. "The illegal chihuahua at your service, señor."

Vincent growled, not unlike a dog himself, then looked back at Scott, "I don't want you to leave my side, alright?"

"Alright," Scott smiled, knowing that with time and alcohol, Vincent would loosen up.

"Okay. Let's go then," Vincent gave one last warning glance to Oliver, then turned around and walked out of the door, adding a shouted, "And you're in the back, mutt!"