A fifth of vodka later and he'd somehow ended up in the park. And it was only about 5 pm. He moved to the grass and sat down, leaning back against one of the strong palm trees that dotted the park. The sky was a canvas of mixing colors, bright pink and orange mixing with the blue sky as the large orange circle that was the sun sank into the mountains far off.

Tim sighed to himself. How long had it been since he'd done this, completely lost control and given up? It wasn't often that he took to the bottle to solve his problems anymore, but every once in a while he 'fell off the wagon' as they say. It had been about a year since they'd finished "...and Out Come The Wolves", and god knew how long until they started recording their next album. The wolves, or the press in other words, had finally laid off of them about signing to a major label - even though Tim was pretty sure Lars still had that naked picture of Madonna she sent hidden somewhere, and practices were scarce lately. It'd been a couple weeks at least since he'd seen any of his bandmates.

Off in the distance he heard a siren, and for a split second he thought that maybe someone had called the cops on him. A drunk punk wandering around the park - who wouldn't? Relief washed over him as a ambulance sped by, red and blue lights flashing in it's wake. He wondered who it was the ambulance was off to pick up, or who might be in the back. His mind took off as it tended to do on days like these, he was left thinking of all the people he knew past and present and how it could be any one of them in that meatwagon. Lost in this morose reverie, he barely heard the car pull up.

"Lint," Matt's familiar gruff voice called from out the window of his restored '70 Dodge. Matt had a thing for cars, which no one ever complained about because that usually meant they never drove when they went on tour. Tim didn't even have a license. Tim lifted his head lazily and gave Matt some sort of muffled reply that probably described his surprise at seeing the bassist and how happy he was to see him, but if it was hard to understand Tim when he was sober it was damn near impossible right now.

Matt's eyes darkened a bit. "You're drunk," he said in a very disapproving tone. That was Matt - concise, angry, and usually playing the role of the regulator. As far as Rancid went anyway. Not to say he didn't enjoy a few beers now and then himself, but going out and getting perfectly shit-faced in the middle of a public park was another story.

"Yeh," Tim slurred in response to Matt's comment. When he didn't move after Matt suggested he get in the car, Matt put the car into park and crawled out to haul the inebriated guitarist to the passenger side. Tim's shorter, leaner frame was no trouble for the muscles Matt had aquired through years of bass playing and he carried him easily, but getting him into the vehicle was a bit more difficult. Tim kept slumping and nearly slipping through Matt's arms. Finally he left Tim on the pavement, growing more perturbed by the minute, and opened the back door. After sliding Tim onto the backseat he returned to the wheel and took off down the street.

After a bit the intoxicated Lint decided to attempt speech again. "Matty...where we going?," he asked. Matt clenched his jaw in reaction to the alcohol affecting Tim's voice.

"We're going to sober you up," he replied tersely. The rest of the drive was punctuated by X coming from Matt's tape player, Tim drunkenly attempting to sing along, and Matt chain-smoking. Finally they drove up outside Matt's apartment, the drive having done nothing to quell Matt's rising impatience with his bandmate. He got out of the Dodge, slamming the door behind him and moving around to the back. He hooked his arm's under Tim's shoulders and pulled him out of the car, perhaps a bit too roughly.

It was about this time that Tim caught on that Matt wasn't in the best of moods. It made sense - Matt had been the one to threaten Lars with getting kicked out of the band if he didn't clean up back before "Let's Go", and Matt had been the one to keep Tim himself away from the drinking and the dope before Rancid was even together. This started Tim thinking again, and he suddenly became very depressed.

They made their way into the bassist's apartment - Tim half-walking, half being dragged by Matt. The apartment was nice, but not Hollywood Hills celebrity sort of nice. For a kid who grew up in Albany, the working-class slums just outside of Berkeley, however, it was pretty damn nice. After making sure Tim was settled onto the couch, Matt went into the kitchen and started making a pot of coffee. He was obviously a little too rough with that, too, because the coffee pot shattered once he set it down on the counter. Grumbling a few explitives to himself, he transferred the water from the now-useless coffee pot to a pan and set it on the stove, and waited for it to boil.

Once he returned to the living room, he found the guitarist was missing. Searching for Tim didn't take long, however, as he quickly noticed the bathroom door half-shut and heard retching sounds from the other side. Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, he returned to the kitchen and occupied himself with watching the pot of water, hoping Tim would have finished puking by the time the coffee made itself. After a bit the water began to boil and Matt pulled himself off the wall, retrieving a strainer and pouring some coffee beans into it then resting the handle of it on the edge of the pot.

Coffee finished and poured into two mugs, he went back to find Tim sitting on the couch. His arms were crossed over his chest, he was staring at the floor, and he all-in-all looked pretty depressed. It pulled at something in Matt's heart as he set a mug of coffee down in front of him, and suddenly he wasn't so mad anymore. He sank onto the couch beside Tim, not saying a word and just sipping quietly at his too-hot coffee.

"Are you mad?," Tim asked after a long silence wherein they both drank coffee, and Matt lit another cigarette. The question didn't exactly catch Matt off-gaurd, but the tone in Tim's voice did. While he sounded less drunk, he also sounded like a kid who just got caught doing something he shouldn't be doing. It was a far bit from the usual happy, hyper, curious Tim-voice he was used to, but then he hadn't seen Tim this drunk in years either.

"Of course I'm fucking mad," he replied. The ever-present gruffness might have made someone who didn't know Matt think that he was seconds away from beating the shit out of his friend, but Tim knew better. For as long as he could remember Matt had sounded like he was pissed off all the time, and he usually looked it as well but the fact was that he usually wasn't. Tim let his head drop after having this question answered, though, because he had disappointed Matt and that was something he hated doing.

Matt sighed heavily and stubbed his cigarette out in an ashtray on the table. Tim shifted uncomfortably on the couch, not because the couch itself was uncomfortable but because the situation was. Tension was almost tangible in the air. After another one of those uncomfortable silences, Matt looked over at Tim.

"You remember, during the Let's Go tour, that night that Lars went out and got shit-faced and coked up then came back to the hotel and started trashing the place like he was a rockstar?," Matt asked Tim. He got a response in the form of a nod, so he continued. "And we were all really pissed, and Brett just left, and you wanted to fight with him?" Another nod. "Do you remember what I did?"

"You pushed him against the wall and told him to calm the fuck down," Tim answered, remembering the night vividly. They'd had some trouble with Lars back in those days, but now he was straight as an arrow. Unlike himself...

Matt shook his head. "Nah, what I said after that."

"You...you asked him why. You said 'Why'd you do this?'," Tim replied, this time his voice sounding a bit defeated. Matt had a way of coming to a point, and this one was pretty fucking harsh. "Then you told him that he was a great guy, but that if he was gunna continue actin' like a fucked-up kid who wasn't worth nothin' then you didn't want to play music with him."

Matt was giving Tim a pointed look as he finished saying this. Tim glanced up at his friend's eyes but could hardly bear the disappointment that shone in them, so he quickly looked back down and waited for Matt to speak again.

"Tim...," he started, his voice quieter than usual and making him sound a lot older than he was. "...you know I respect you, and you're more than a brother to me, but I also worry about you a lot, too. I worry 'cuz I don't want to see you go down the same road as your dad. And I worry 'cuz you've helped me through so much shit already. Fuck, man, I've known you since I was five fucking years old and even then I worried about you. I love you to death, Lint, but I can't deal with this shit."

Tim groaned inwardly and tried to sink lower on the couch. Matt knew him, and he was right. Tim's father had been an alcoholic, lost his job because of it, and his mother had been forced to support the family. Tim didn't have a family, but he did have a band, and letting them down was just as bad as letting down a wife and kids.

"So why?," Matt suddenly broke into his thoughts. Tim glanced up at his face. His eyes were completely serious, but also showed how concerned he was, and his mouth was set in a thin line cluing to that he wasn't exactly calm still. He probably wouldn't be calm until long after Tim had sobered up and explained himself thoroughly, but that was Matt and that's one of the reasons why Tim loved him.

"I...I just feel so empty sometimes," Tim began to explain. "It's like...Lars and Brett are always busy, and you've got other stuff to worry about...we haven't played in a month or somethin'. And I have nothing else to do. I sit around watching bullshit talk shows on TV, trying to write...but nothing's coming anymore. I don't feel it...I just don't feel." He finished lamely and Matt remained silent for some time. Tim, for the first time in a while, didn't know what Matt was going to do, or how he was going to react.

That question was answered by the sound of breaking glass as Matt stood up and threw his coffee mug at the wall. Brownish liquid trailed down the wall from the place where it hit to collect on the carpet. Tim tried to sink lower into the couch again, but much more of that and he'd be on the floor.

"Fuck this shit! Fuck you! What, you going fucking apathetic on me or what?," Matt exploded, gesturing wildly with his arms. Tim almost wished he was invisible. "That's fucking pathetic, man. You say I have better things to worry about but you haven't bothered to pick up a fucking phone and call me! And of course you're not going to feel it if you just sit around in your house all day staring blankly at the TV. Don't dwell on this shit, Tim. We're not going anywhere. We just needed a break - we all did and this isn't the fucking way to handle the off-season."

While it was apparent Matt was still angry, his voice had lost most of it's rage by the end of his speech. He stood watching the Tim-shaped ball that was curled up on his couch. He hated losing it like that but sometimes he couldn't help it; sometimes he had to lose it to get through to Tim. Already the mistake was apparent though - the desired effect would've been Tim standing up and yelling right back at him. Instead he'd retreated further into himself, and obviously this was worse than Matt had originally thought.

After a long period of nonresponsiveness from Tim, and after cleaning up the broken coffee mug, Matt returned to his place on the couch. He wasn't too terribly surprised to see that Tim hadn't moved at all, nor that there were a few tear tracks down his face. Tim wasn't usually emotional around people, after getting teased all through school for his family's class standing as well as his dyslexia he had learned to keep most of what he felt inside and let it out through his music. With Matt it was different, though.

Matt reached an arm around Tim's shoulders and pulled him in close. Tim dropped his head until his chin was almost touching his chest and tried to stop crying, feeling more pathetic by the second. "I'm sorry," he managed after a few moments of pulling himself together. Matt sighed slightly, resting his chin on top of Tim's spiderwebbed head.

"You don't gotta fuckin' apologize to me, Lint," he said. "I just don't want anything to happen to you. Hanging out in a park wasted isn't the smartest idea, especially with how well-known we've gotten. Some asshole could recognize you and call the cops or something. And detox sucks, remember?" Tim snorted. He remembered well, after five trips there how could he forget? That was years ago but the memory was still fresh in his mind. As were the memories of all the times between bands when Matt would find him hanging out around Gilman, drunk as fuck, and he'd pick him up and force him to eat something and sober up. Not unlike today.

"I don't wanna disappoint you, man. I just don't know what the fuck to do with myself lately. It's like I've lost all my inspiration or something," Tim went on. Matt's hand was rubbing slow circles on his back soothingly and they'd both calmed down quite a bit by now.

"So get with Lars and cover a Bragg song or something," Matt suggested. "Fuck, just do something. I don't wanna have to kick your ass." Tim knew it was pretty much an empty threat. Matt may get angry and yell sometimes, and throw stuff against the wall, or break mirrors, but it was very rare that he ever hit anyone. Much less his friends, and even more less his really close friends. The suggestion of meeting up with Lars wasn't a bad idea, except for the fact that Lars was currently pretty busy helping out a few bands with their albums and spending time with his girlfriend who he'd missed the whole time they were on tour.

Tim leaned his head more against Matt's shoulder and he encircled him with his arms. "Think I could stay here for a while?," Tim asked. "My place's too...empty. Too much Ricki Lake, too." Matt chuckled slightly and reached up to rub Tim's shaved head affectionately.

"'course you can stay here," he told him, then just for good measure added. "Not like I have anything better to do." He could tell the way Tim's back rose under his arm that he was definately sobering up and probably going to pass out soon. He thought of moving him to the spare bedroom or something, but decided against it. It was actually kind of nice having Tim here. He'd been feeling kind of out of it himself with all the off-time they'd had lately, but it obviously affected Tim a lot more. Probably because he was such a people person, he thrived on meeting new people and hearing their stories. While Matt himself was a bit more the anti-social type, always content to sit back and observe casually.

Matt eventually stopped rubbing Tim's back and just let his hands rest around him, leaning back into the couch. Tim's head was still on his shoulder and he was pretty sure he was still awake. The sun had gone down, and Matt had neglected to turn on any lights when they entered the apartment, so it was now more or less dark save for the orange glow of streetlights outside. Matt let his eyes close because he could barely see anyway.

"Matt," Tim said in a sort of questioning voice, breaking the silence. "You'll always be around to pick me up like this, right?" His tone almost suggested that he was scared. Matt squeezed him against his chest and nodded.

"Haven't I always been before?," he said in way of response. Tim smiled at this rhetorical question, it didn't need an answer at all because they both knew he had. Ever since they were kids, in little league together, listening to that first punk tape Tim had got from his brother together. Matt had been there through almost everything and Tim somehow knew that wouldn't change. Who would've thought after all these years that Matt would still be there to pick him up when he fell and get him back on track?

The action was almost thoughtless, but not quite. With the track Tim's mind was going down it probably would've got there anyway. Tilting his head just a bit, he brought his lips to rest against the skin of Matt's neck with a small amount of pressure. This got no reaction, either good or bad, so Tim moved and starting planting soft kisses along Matt's jawline.

Matt wasn't quite sure what to think when Tim started doing this. He wasn't a homophobe, in fact sometimes he wasn't even sure if he was straight with how much most girls irritated him. Besides that, Matt just wasn't a very affectionate person. He'd rarely even give anyone a hug. But as Tim continued what he was doing, Matt found he really didn't mind. In fact he kind of liked it. He moved his arms and drew Tim in a bit closer, the smallest reassurance to Tim that what he was doing was noticed and that he didn't need to stop.

Tim reached Matt's chin and hesitated. He didn't know what Matt was thinking, mostly because they'd never been in a situation like this. He glanced up at Matt and found that he was looking down at him and smiling very slightly. For someone who seemed so angry all the time, Matt had a very nice smile. So nice, in fact, that Tim almost didn't want to kiss him anymore just so he could see him smile instead. Almost.

As he leaned up to kiss Matt, Tim was vaguely surprised to find that Matt met him halfway there. He hadn't ever really thought about it before - well, maybe a little bit, but not often - but he was relieved to discover that Matt wasn't weirded out by what was happening. Their lips pressed together and Tim moved his hands up, lacing his fingers together around the back of Matt's neck as his eyes slipped shut. The kiss was soft, but hard enough to be reassuring that this wasn't a mistake. Slowly, Tim worked his jaw, moving his mouth underneath Matts and let his tongue slide across his lower lip. Matt opened his mouth without the slightest bit of hesitance, his tongue meeting Tim's. Matt tasted like coffee and cigarettes, a very distinctly Matt thing; while Tim tasted mostly of vodka. Not the way Matt would have wanted it, but he really wasn't complaining at this point.

The kiss was lazy but comfortable and lasted for quite a while, until Tim broke away. Both of them were a bit short of breath as he buried his face against Matt's neck. Neither of them spoke at first, reflecting on what had just happened. It was another memory to be filed away with countless others, and neither of them felt that it would be any less pleasant as most of the others were.

"Tim...?," Matt finally broke the silence, the single word holding a touch of question to it.

"Love you, Matt," Tim replied, his voice muffled. It was blunt and to the point, but none the less true. Matt relaxed, leaning back once again and smiling.

"Love you too, Tim."

Not long after, Matt had lifted the passed out form of Tim and carried him to bed. He took him to his own bed instead of the spare room, as Tim had expressed a genuine desire not to be left alone before falling asleep. Matt set the smaller man down on the bed then dropped onto the side of the bed and unlaced Tim's Chucks. After successfully pulling both shoes off, he moved to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, changing into a pair of pajama pants as well. He watched his reflection in the mirror for a while and couldn't help but smile.

It was a bit weird, he supposed, that after so many years of knowing each other that this would happen. One might think that they knew well enough where they stood with each other, known their boundaries and all that. That was one of the things Matt loved about Tim, though - there never were any boundaries. Just when you thought you knew everything there was to know about him, he'd turn around and surprise you again. There were a lot of great things about Tim, he decided, and he could either stand here, staring at himself and thinking about them, or he could go to bed and enjoy them.

Making the obvious decision, Matt clicked off the bathroom light and returned to his bedroom. He manuevered his way around the bed and small practice amp easily, as well as the other things in the room, despite the darkness. He pulled back the covers and slid under them, waiting to hear the sounds of Tim's breathing. He hadn't expected Tim to be awake, so it surprised him a bit when he felt him move next to him. Tim had woken up shortly after Matt went to the bathroom, removed his shirt and socks and slid under the blankets.

Matt lifted an arm and wrapped it around Tim's shoulders and the guitarist's head came to rest on his shoulder. As Tim's arm came to rest over Matt's chest, Matt let his other hand move to Tim's side. Matt traced small, lazy circles on Tim's arm, and Tim could almost hear him thinking.

"Matt...?," he said, leaving the question go unspoken. Matt tilted his head slightly so his cheek rested against Tim's forehead.

"You gunna be all right?," he asked in a quiet voice.

"I think so," Tim answered. His hand slid up Matt's chest and he traced his collarbone with fingers calloused from years of guitar playing. "If I'm not..." He trailed off. He didn't want to think about 'if I'm not' in all truth, but he was sort of worried.

"If you're not...," Matt repeated, then trailed off just as Tim had. He moved his head and kissed the top of Tim's head, right where the last strands of the spiderweb were tattooed. "If you're not, I'll still be here," he finished in a quieter voice. Tim sighed and let his hand drift farther up, moving along Matt's neck.

"Thank you," Tim said, nuzzling Matt's ear. It was all he needed to say; those two syllables were completely honest and let Matt know just how much Tim appreciated the promise, as well as everything Matt had already done for him. Matt moved his head to the side again, and his hand left Tim's shoulder to lift his chin up. Their lips met again and Matt leaned up, propping himself up on an elbow to lean over Tim. Tim's arms went around Matt's back, holding him closer.

Matt's hand grazed back down Tim's chest to his waist, his fingers curling over his side to pull him closer. As Matt's tongue entered his mouth Tim couldn't help but moan. Being this close to a guy was a very new thing to him, but with Matt it was so easy and comfortable that it just felt right. Matt broke the kiss a moment later, dipping his head down to run his tongue along Tim's collar bone to the hollow of his throat. Tim ran a hand up his back and through his short black hair, then back down as he started to leave a trail of kisses down Tim's chest. Tim repeated his moan as Matt let his tongue swirl around his left nipple then his teeth graze it. He arched his back as Matt brought his mouth closed over the skin, alternately nipping at and sucking on it as Tim's eyes fell shut.

Matt continued his way down Tim's chest, moving his mouth over the "US Thugs" tattoo that arched across Tim's stomach. He slid his hands back up Tim's sides as he did, to his shoulders then back down his arms. Their fingers entertwined as Matt's tongue graced the soft skin above his waistband and Matt paused. Tim arched his back again and that was enough of a sign for Matt. He unlaced his fingers from Tim's and undid his belt, then unbuttoned and unzipped the plaid bondage pants Tim had on. Tim made a small sound of appreciation as he was freed of his pants, and shortly after, his boxers.

Although Tim was quite obviously aroused by this point, Matt took his time, slowly dragging his tongue over the skin that stretched over Tim's hipbones, from one side to the other, then lazily started trailing kisses downwards. Tim made a noise of mixed impatience and enjoyment, bucking his hips upwards. Matt supressed a grin at his friend's inability to wait and gave in, dipping his head down and running his tongue along the underside of Tim's cock. He reached the tip and took it into his mouth, lightly sucking on it. He looked up at Tim without moving from his position between his legs. Tim's head was tilted back, his mouth slightly open to better accomodate his labored breathing. Matt slid his mouth down further, painstakingly slowly, and Tim started to make incoherent noises of pleasure. Matt moved his mouth back up just as slowly then started up a rythm, increasing the pace as he continued. By now Tim was thrashing around quite violently and Matt had to hold his hips down. It was almost strange how natural this situation seemed, and Matt hardly thought about the fact that he was giving his best friend head as he started to hum the bassline to Old Friend.

Tim arched his back, his hips fighting against Matt's oppressive hold as he came. He didn't call out his name or say anything, just opening his mouth in a silent scream of extasy. Words were for one-night stands and people you barely knew, there was no need to speak right now. Matt sat up as Tim layed back, sweaty, against the crumpled sheets. He licked his way back up Tim's chest then kissed his neck and pulled him close to him. It took Tim a moment to gather the strength or composure of mind to respond, but he eventually wrapped his arms around the bassists neck as his breathing returned to normal.

Matt continued to hold Tim as he relaxed, not sure of what to say, if anything. His hands traced over Tim's back and hips as he lay against his chest. As usual, Matt didn't have to say anything because Tim beat him to it.

"Holy fuck," he muttered against Matt's skin, and Matt grinned a tiny bit. Holy fuck, indeed.

Matt squinted his eyes closed and rolled over to avoid the invasive sunlight, forcing Tim to sort of roll with him as he was currently situated on Matt's chest. While they had actually gone to bed pretty early, it had been quite a while before they got to sleep. Matt's manuevering had no effect on Tim, who would probably have a horrible hangover once he finally woke up anyway. Matt took the early morning's relative silence to contemplate on what had happened the night before.

Not surprisingly, he felt no regret about any of last night's occurances and he was pretty sure Tim would feel the same way. Even when he was drunk, Tim usually took full responsibility for his actions. Besides that, he had been mostly sober by the time they got to bed. Knowing that they were both in their right minds when it all happened was a huge relief. Matt didn't expect very much to come of it, since they were best friends - never any less and most likely never any more. That thought didn't disappoint him in the slightest. He may love Tim, but to say he was in love with Tim was a far stretch for the imagination.

While his thoughts wandered, Tim grumbled in his sleep. Once again he made absolutely no sense, even to Matt's ears which had put up with his mumblings for many years. Matt was pretty sure he caught a few explitives in there before Tim opened his eyes.

"What fucking time is it?," Tim slurred groggily. He didn't pull away from Matt, speaking more or less into his shoulder. Rolling over, Matt looked at the digital alarm clock on the table by his bed.

"Around 9," he answered, turning back to Tim and rewrapping his arms around him. Tim groaned and mumbled something that sounded like 'my fucking head', earning a small laugh from Matt. Tim might've glared up at him if it hadn't hurt so bad to do so. "You going to drink again?," Matt queried, bringing his chin to rest on top of Tim's head. Tim groaned before responding.

"That depends. You gunna give me the best damn blowjob I've ever had again if I do?," Tim answered bluntly.

"I might if you don't drink. But if I have to pull your ass outta one more gutter, Armstrong, that's it," he told him. He sounded like he was joking, but Tim knew he meant the last part at least. He remembered, despite his drunken daze, how pissed-off Matt had been at him earlier yesterday and he had every right.

"Okay, no more drinking," Tim submitted. He wondered how many more times he would say that before it actually worked. Hopefully, this would be the last.

Matt dropped a kiss onto Tim's forehead to show his appreciation for at least thinking that he wouldn't drink again, then unwound himself from around him. Tim looked up curiously as Matt slid off of the bed and pulled on a pair of boxers. Matt stood and looked at Tim for a long moment, then closed the blinds.

"Get some more sleep, you need it. I have to go out and get a new coffee pot," he explained. Matt went to his closet and Tim rolled onto his side to watch him as he selected clothes and got dressed. Afterwards, Matt sat down on the bed and started pulling on his boots.

"Matt...," Tim began, wanting to know if he was escaping because of what happened last night or if he actually needed a new coffee pot. He didn't have time to figure out a way to ask.

"It's fine," Matt told him sincerely, turning around to look at him. "Everything's just like it always has been, it's just a little bit more now." He reached out and ran two fingers down Tim's jawline, then leaned over and pressed his lips to Tim's. Tim opened his mouth and let his tongue slide out to lazily play over Matts for a few brief seconds before he pulled away again. Tim looked up at him as he stood and smirked a little bit.

"Yeah...everything's the same, so you'll still be an asshole if you don't get any coffee," he remarked, then rolled back over. Matt stood and lit a cigarette, watching Tim for a moment before leaving the apartment.

Tim's breaking point and consequential salvation had come just in time. Lars finished up his latest project within the week and was more than ready to get back to playing music with his friends, and they were all more than ready to oblige. This was how, three days later, they all came to be situated in Lars' basement. Brett sat behind his drums, twirling the sticks between his fingers; Matt was sitting on the floor tuning his bass; Tim was perched on top of his guitar amp doing the same to his guitar and Lars was pacing the room and telling them, in long detail, about the album he'd just finished producing.

Tim looked up at Lars' question of 'So what've you guys been up to?' He looked over at Matt then back down at his guitar.

"Ah, the usual," Matt said. Tim didn't show it right off, but he was very thankful that Matt hadn't mentioned the part about him getting completely shitfaced. He didn't think it would've mattered if Matt had said anything about their homoerotic exploits, after all Lars was the one that had shown up to meet the record executives in a dress and high heels.

Lars turned to Tim then. "What about you? Anything exciting been goin' on?"

"Well...I wrote a new song," Tim said. This caught everyone's attention, even Matt's. Tim had been staying at his house all week and Matt hadn't heard him pick up a guitar, but Tim was like that. He could write an entire song in his head on guitar, as well as the lyrics. Then he usually came to Matt to help him with the bass, or they just let him go off.

"Awesome!," Lars exclaimed, the excitement apparent in his voice. He sat down in a rotating chair and looked at Tim with undivided attention. "Let's hear it."

Tim picked at his guitar. "It's a bit slower than the last album...but we were sort of talking about that anyway," he explained as he turned the switch on his amp. The room fell silent with all three guys watching him as he started to play, then sing. Right before he began singing, he glanced up at Matt and smiled a bit.