Neil’s face screws up in discomfort at the way the edge of the table digs into his cheek. Although, it does distract him from his spinning head and the heaving waves in his stomach. It’s like he’s detached and drifting away from the heavy anchor of his body, grounded only by whatever is squeezing his wrist. He lets out a grunt when the squeezing turns into violent shaking, squinting open eyes he didn’t even realize were closed.

Lifting his chin and resting it on the table, he tries to focus on the person in front of him. It takes a moment for his vision to adjust, blurring in and out like a camera lens. When it clears enough, he can decently make out the fuzzy lines, shapes, and colors that make up Dinah.

Her mouth moves but he can’t hear the sound it makes over the loud, muddled chatter around him. He says something back, maybe, or makes an expression to show his confusion. The next thing he knows is that Dinah leans over the table, her face inches from his ear, then she’s screaming out what she said the first time.

“I’m gonna pay the tab and call an Uber!” Neil jerks away, shoving his face into the crook of his arm while using his free hand to bat at her face like a cat. She easily maneuvers out of the way, and with the lack of coordination he has, his hand ends up swiping in a completely different direction.

Another dangerous lurch of his stomach has Neil pushing himself off the table and sagging against the backrest of the booth. The lights are warm and dim, which does wonderful things for the dull pounding at the front of his skull. He catches the blurry motion of her standing up and he waves bonelessly at her.

“’M going to the bathroom first,” he mumbles out. With a quick nod, Dinah is out of sight and Neil starts trying to haul himself out of his seat.

The trip to and from the bathroom is more of a feat than Neil expects it to be. He bumps into four people trying to make it there and one more inside the bathroom, narrowly missing a tumble onto the floor. It’s a miracle that he manages to get out unharmed and get on his way back to the table. Or at least that’s what he’s trying to do. Either he doesn’t correctly remember where it is, or it disappeared when he wasn’t paying attention.

Waddling through the crowd of patrons, his eyes struggle to focus enough to see any faces clearly. Even when he squints, trying to pick out Dinah’s face somewhere in the room, he can’t find what he’s searching for.

For the umpteenth time, he knocks into another person, the momentum carrying him sideways and into one of the bar stools. Neil yelps when his legs give out halfway, leaving him awkwardly posed and slouching against the counter, not quite sitting on the stool but not really standing either.

“What the-”

“Wha-”

A new voice chimes in, registering late in Neil’s brain. His head lolls to the side and he looks up at the person sitting on the stool next to him. It’s a tall guy with his upper body practically draped over the counter, surrounded by a little army of empty shot glasses. It immediately strikes him that, despite his lack of general awareness, the stranger seems awfully familiar.

Honey glazed eyes stare down at him, somehow shining under the dim lights of the bar. Something at the back of Neil’s brain itches, his brows furrowing while he struggles to fumble through his memories in an attempt to figure out why this guy looks so familiar. The stranger in question slowly sits up, expression shifting as he reaches a similar conclusion himself.

Mouth hanging open and eyes almost bulging, Neil’s train of thought gets promptly cut off when the guy aggressively spins his whole body to face him. The stranger proceeds to lean forward dangerously and points a finger directly into Neil’s face.

“Husband!” 

A moment of silence passes between them where Neil gapes, wondering if he’s more drunk than he initially suspected. It takes a while to come back to his senses and he pushes away the hand invading his space.

“’Scuse me?” He grumbles, trying to get back onto his feet without falling to the floor..

“Oh, right! Sorry. I’m Al.” The guy, Al, pulls his hand back to point at himself. 

Finally managing to get to his feet, Neil sweeps a suspicious glance at him. The name rings a bell, but not enough for him to feel comfortable with the look this strange guy is giving him.

“Ok…?”

“We’re married.”

Is… is he being hit on right now? If he is, forcing an imaginary marriage on him is not the way to go. He said the word husband just a second ago too, didn't he?

“No,” is all Neil can think to say.

“But we areee.” Al whines suddenly flopping forward into Neil’s personal bubble. Neil sneers and pushes at him, not sober enough to have the strength to do much but hold him at bay.

“I don’t know you, man!” Neil spits out. “You’re being weird!”

Al doesn’t continue to press into his space, but goes limp in Neil’s hands, slumping over and letting his arms dangle in the air. Another petulant sound wheezes out of him before he speaks again.

“No, but we are!” His words are slurred and jumbled worse than Neil’s are and it’s by sheer luck that he can even understand him. “In Vegas. We got married in Vegaaaaaas.”

It’s then that a bright spark of recognition flickers through him. His mind is too hazy to fully function right now, but something clicks in his foggy brain. He knows the name ‘Al’ sounds familiar, but it’s even more so now that it’s paired with the word ‘Vegas.’ If this guy knows anything about the memories he’s missing from that one night, in Vegas of all places, then he wants to know.

With a little effort, he gets Al to lean on the counter, the man needing little coaxing to bury his face into his arms on the bar counter. Neil sits next to him on the stool, more comfortably this time, and gives him his attention. He props his chin up on his hand, albeit needing a few sloppy, fumbling tries to get there.

“What d’you mean? You met me in Vegas?” At the sound of his voice, Al peeks out from his arms. He regards Neil for a second and seeing that Neil’s willing to hear him out, he fully emerges and watches him with his head pillowed sideways on his arms.

“Yeah. I don’t really remember. But!” He shuts his eyes and holds up a finger dramatically before continuing. “When I got home I got this box in the mail. It has pictures and a cet- certip- the important paper that says we’re married. Our names are on it and everything. And you’re in, like, every picture.”

Alfred pauses, furrowing his brows in thought. He opens his eyes again, hand dropping back to the counter as he looks at Neil.

“Wait- is your name Neil?”

Neil blinks in surprise, not really processing half the words being said to him. However, the fact that this stranger knows his name catches him off guard. He’s certainly not popular enough for people to casually know his name, and he’s never seen this guy around campus.

“It… is,” he says carefully. Alfred only nods sagely.

“Called it. Yup, we’re married,” he says, though it sounds like he’s addressing it more to himself than to Neil.

They both go quiet again. Al lets his eyes fall shut again, meanwhile Neil sits there scrambling for answers while new questions flood his dizzy, dancing brain. Nothing sticks and nothing makes sense, but he sure tries to see if it does. He knows that he was pretty much blackout drunk that one night, but he would have remembered doing something as crazy as getting married… right?

Neil looks down at the man next to him. It’s when he notices the fingers of Al’s left hand peeking out from beneath his elbow that the pieces begin to fit together.

Al makes a bewildered noise when Neil snatches his fingers, yanking them toward him to reveal the rest of his hand. On the ring finger is a simple silver band, one that is a carbon copy of the one Neil has tucked away in the drawer of his bedside table. 

In any other situation he can brush it off as a coincidence. However, this isn’t just any other situation. The ring, the familiar name, the fact that this man knows his name, and even how he mentioned Las Vegas, which is the only part of that trip he can’t completely remember. It’s all too conveniently connected to be a coincidence.

“Hey! What was that fo-”

“We’re married.”

The two men look at each other, in various states of intoxication, and just blink.

“I said that already.” Al grumbles but stays in the odd position he’s been manhandled into.

“Yeah, but I believe you now,” Neil informs him.

“Oh, cool.”

“For sure.”

It’s as if an invisible pressure neither of them were aware of lifts off their shoulders. Neil drops his head onto the counter, matching Al’s previous position. A snicker sneaks its way out of Neil and a loud ‘snrrrrk’ from Al sets them both into a fit of laughter that has nearby patrons glaring at them. They stay like that, cackling and wheezing drunkenly until the bartender comes over to talk to them.

He asks them something along the lines of if they want water, or have a ride home. Al considers the bartender's words before turning to Neil.

“Wanna go? I don’t think I wanna drink anymore.” Al rests his chin on his right hand, not even noticing his left one still being held despite the awkward pose it forces him into. Neil sits up a bit, pulling Al’s hand along with him as he goes.

“Yeah, sounds good. Drinking too much isn’t healthy anyway.”

“We should know.”

Neil snorts out a laugh but is quick to reel himself back in. He nods at the bartender, giving him a thumbs up to let him know they’re good. They get an unsure look in return before the bartender ultimately lets it go, moving on to another patron.

“My friend’s apartment is too far, I gotta get an Uber first,” Neil tells Al who waves a hand at him.

“’s fine bro, my apartment’s, like, right here. You can crash at mine, I walked here.”

“That ok?” Neil really doesn’t feel like getting an Uber, the idea of the motion making the forgotten lurching of his stomach return to the forefront of his mind.

“Sure, I got popsicles too.”

“What flavors?”

They fall into a half sensible conversation about popsicles and ice cream as they help each other out of the bar stools. The easy, mindless chatter continues as they amble out of the Bar and Grill, arms slung around each other’s shoulders. 

Upon setting foot outside, they get instantly blasted by the chill outside, realizing they both forgot their jackets inside. Going all the way back to get them feels like too much of a hassle so they opt to huddle closer for warmth and keep on their way toward Al’s apartment. They waddle down the sidewalk like penguins, occasionally drifting too far in one direction and pausing frequently to correct themselves.

It’s after they’ve been walking for a while that Neil’s phone buzzes angrily in his pocket. He hums in surprise and pulls his phone out, not bothering to check the caller ID before answering. Neil gets halfway through a drowsy ‘hello’ when a familiar voice yells directly into his ear for the second time tonight.

“WHERE ARE YOU?!”

“Loud!” Neil complains, jerking the phone away. It’s only when the voice tones down that he puts it back to his ear, catching Dinah in the middle of her sentence.

“-asked the guy who was coming out if he’s seen you and he said he was the only one in there! I can’t see you anywhere but your jacket’s still here so I know you didn’t leave-”

“I’m ok, I left already.” Neil completely misses the strangled noise from the other end of the call. “I’m going to my husband’s apartment. We’re gonna eat popsicles.”

“WHAT-”

Dinah’s voice abruptly cuts off and he waits for her to speak again. After a few seconds of silence, he pulls his phone away to see the faint, flickering image of an empty battery on a black screen. With a quiet ‘oh’ he slips the phone back into his pocket without giving it much thought.

“Who was that?” Al inquires from where he heavily leans against Neil for support.

“My friend. She was askin’ where I was so I told her.”

“Oh, cool-” Al sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Shoot! I forgot- I should probably call my friend too. He went to the bathroom when you came over ‘n I forgot about him.”

A chuckle slips out of Neil as Al fumbles for his own phone. The gentle mumbles of the phone call paired with the quiet buzz of night traffic softens something inside of him. A cold wind blows through then, a refreshing sensation against the warm skin of his face. And for the first time in a really long time, Neil feels ok.