“my friend dragged me to this party and I just saw my ex quick make out with me” au
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It’s not that Dan isn’t a party person. He likes parties. He likes the whole socialising, drinking, I-don’t-know-who-the-hell-you-are-and-why-we’re-sitting-on-the-trampoline-in-the-back-yard-talking-about-dinosaurs-but-I’ll-roll-with-it vibe to it (okay, maybe the latter was only one time), and what’s the harm in getting a little drunk every now and then?
But the problem with Joe, is that he has more friends than Dan can keep up with. He knows too many people Dan doesn’t, and he goes to way too many parties.
Which, Dan supposes, isn’t really a problem in itself, but it’s where he comes into it that is – being the loyal roommate/best friend he is, Joe seems to have adopted him as his party mascot. His trusty ‘plus-one’, for want of a better term.
“Come on, Dan,” Joe throws him a red and black plaid shirt, dismissing one (of many) of Dan’s excuses of ‘but I have nothing to wear’. “I’ve grown out of that, so it’ll fit you just fine. You suit red.”
Dan glares at him, but walks over to the mirror and holds the shirt up to his face. It does suit him, kind-of, and he supposes he could probably get a couple more wears out of his jeans before he has to wash them.
“We’re like teenage girls, you and me,” Joe smirks, watching Dan assess his reflection.
Dan smirks, but tugs his pyjama t-shirt off and grabs the red plaid thing. He’ll never win.
“You owe me big time,” he mumbles, buttoning it up.
“Come on, it’ll be fine. This is Andrew – he knows how to throw a good party.”
“Ah, yes – ‘Andrew’. Another strikingly familiar name.’” Dan mutters dryly, grabbing his straighteners.
Joe tuts. “You’ll love him.”
Dan wonders how many times he’s heard that one before.
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