Brian looked out the front window as a familiar growl echoed up the driveway. He was at the kitchen sink, filling up several empties with his homemade brew. His concentration was every which way since he and Michelle had returned from the shops.

First, he had gone back to his room and attempted to write a little more. When that had come to nothing, he had switched on the television just to flick through about a hundred channels of commercials. Finally, Brian had settled with checking the alcohol he had begun to brew.

He had gotten the bug the previous Christmas because some family friends had brought over a bottle of whiskey that they had made themselves. It, besides his writing, was his pet project: to create the perfect whiskey.

However, the low moan of his friend’s bike approaching the front of the house was enough to draw his attention away from that, for at least a moment.

“It’s Matt!” Michelle called from the living room.

Brian yelled back, “I know. I’d recognise his bike a mile away.”

“Val’s not with him.” His fiancée appeared behind him in the doorway of the kitchen. Brian glanced over his shoulder at her.

“Hmmm?”

He returned his focus to the large bottles in front of him, trying to make sure he didn’t spill any of the liquid he was pouring from the heavy barrel.

“Val. She isn’t with him.” Michelle came over to lean against the sink next to him, observing his work. He smiled vaguely her way before continuing his task.

“She’s coming straight from work,” Brian murmured after a moment, sticking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and squinting down into the sink.

“No. She said Matt was going to pick her up.”

“No. She told me that she was coming straight from work.” Brian put the now empty barrel down, grinning. “Anyway, it’s early yet...look at these beauties!” He waved a hand toward the full bottles in the sink.

Michelle rolled her eyes at him then turned to leave. “I’m gonna let him in.”

Brian nodded absently while scrounging in a drawer for some bottle caps. His fiancée sighed and walked out of the room. He heard her footsteps fading away then the sound of the front door opening and her welcoming the other man.

“Matt! Long time.”

“Yeah, how’re you doing?”

Their voices quietened for a moment so Brian couldn’t hear them, and then Matthew’s voice entered the kitchen in that familiar rasping drawl that he always spoke with.

“Brian, what the fuck’re you doing?”

Brian turned around, bracing his ass against the counter, grinning. Matthew stood several feet from him, his eyebrows rising in bemusement. Hooking the pair of Aviators he always wore out onto his shirt, he nodded toward the bottles in the sink.

Brian smirked as he said, “Oh that’s just some brew I concocted.”

Matthew’s expression darkened. “Nothing illegal?”

“No. It’s just whiskey, Shads. Lighten up.”

“I will, if you let me be the first to taste it,” Matthew said with a chuckle.

Brian rolled his eyes walking forward to meet him in a quick, hard embrace. “Oh, you. Come ‘ere.”

They pounded at each other’s backs then stepped away, Matthew moving to lean against the bench while Brian went back to the sink. He grabbed the caps, screwing them onto the bottles before lifting them out of the sink and plonking them down on the bench. He left one open, which he set down in front of his friend.

Matthew grabbed it and asked, while sniffing at the contents, “When’re the others getting here?” He tilted it watching as the dark liquid swirled inside.

“Well, your wife won’t be here ‘til later. Apparently she’s doing some advertising campaign for the mayor,” Brian said, watching his friend’s silent interrogation of the brew.

Matthew snorted, “Elliott Johnston needs all the help he can get. Did you hear about his ride?”

“No?”

“Zack told me, last time I spoke to him, that he ran over a couple of concrete pylons – no idea how he did that – so it’s at the shop right now, getting fixed.”

Brian laughed, shaking his head. “Man. Zacky will kill it.”

Matthew took a pull of the bottle, brow furrowing. “Whew! What is this? Forty percent proof?”

“Yeah,” his friend laughed again. “Strong, hey.”

“Fuck yeah...” He wiped the back of his hand against his mouth. “Anyway, yeah. Zacky’ll probably wreck the car more than it already is. He’s a shit mechanic. I wouldn’t trust him with Harley.”

Brian rolled his eyes. “That’s real original, Matt.”

“What?”

“Calling your bike, ‘Harley’.”

“That’s what it is.”

“So? That’s something Jimmy would do.”

Matthew frowned. “He’s coming, isn’t he?”

Brian was now cleaning up the sink area where he’d been working. He paused at his friend’s question though, looking over at him. He recognised the semi-anxious expression on the bigger male’s face and knew instinctively what it was that was bothering him.

“Matt, you know it. He never misses a chance to hang out. It’s been a long time.”

“I know. Just...” Matthew sighed.

Brian studied the serious cast to his Matt’s features. Then thought of their mutual friend. Jimmy was different to anyone he had ever known. He always seemed to be off in his own little world; never wanted to conform either. He was a law unto himself, and in a world where people frowned on those who didn’t follow the norms of society, he didn’t quite fit in.

Matthew on the other hand was very strong on fitting in, on keeping the status quo, particularly if it had anything to do with his position. Or so it appeared on the outside. Brian had a feeling that Matt wasn’t as strict on that as he let on, after all he couldn’t see how he would ever have maintained his friendship with Jimmy otherwise.

“You’re not on duty, Shads. Jimmy’s just Jimmy...you know that.”

Matthew’s lips quirked, faintly. “I do.”

“Oh, and if he starts going on about the Creed...let him. It’s not hurting anyone.”

“I still want to know how he found out about that bust six years ago. That shit was classified.” Matt made a face.

Brian poked his head into the pantry to try and find some food to have with the drinks. He and Michelle had bought a stack, but she always seemed to hide it all on him. His voice was muffled as he responded to his friend’s question.

“You do know that the kid’s elder brother was Jimmy’s friend from high school.”

“I guess that would do it.”

Matthew shifted his weight, rubbing at the back of his neck. Brian reappeared holding several bags of chips. They rustled in his grip as he put them on the bench. Then he leaned his hands against the surface, absently flexing his arms.

Matt eyed his arms, nodding slightly. “New ink?”

Brian looked down at his forearms, turning them over and studying the tattoos that covered the lengths of both. “Nah. I’ve had these for a long time...”

His friend tugged at an earlobe, the diamond studded gauge glinting. “Fuck, I haven’t been here for ages.”

“True. You need to find more time.”

Matthew groaned as he said, “I can’t afford to.”

Michelle walked in then and raised her eyebrows at his statement. Before she could comment though, a loud, extremely familiar voice could be heard from out the front of the house, shouting. The three of them rushed out of the kitchen, to the front hall and out the door to see Jimmy standing on the front lawn in just a pair of blue basketball shorts. He had his arms up in the air and was yelling up into the trees.

“It lives! The masterpiece is alive! It fucking lives!”

“What the hell?” Brian stared dumbfounded.

Jimmy looked ridiculous. His face was flushed, at least the little bit of it they could see considering the bushy beard he was sporting. He waved his long arms in the air and did a funny little dance, his long legs going every which way as he continued to repeatedly chant ‘it lives, it lives’. Michelle, who was trying not to laugh, looked up and down the street obviously hoping that none of the neighbours were out.

Matthew was the only one able to think clearly on what to do. His many years of training kicked in and he reacted almost on autopilot. He moved fast across the lawn, a tank set on hitting its target head-on. Tackling his friend they ended in a tangle of long limbs and hard muscle on the ground. Jimmy had stopped shouting and was now laughing so hard it sounded like he’d explode at any moment.

Matt wrestled the taller man onto his back, which in truth wasn’t so difficult because for all Jimmy’s height on him, Matthew was still stronger. Sitting on him, he glared down into his laughing eyes.

“Fucking quit it, Sullivan,” Matt ordered, trying to keep a severe expression on his face. Jimmy pouted up at him, his eyes wide and innocent, the bright blue almost overwhelming.

“My name’s not Sullivan, it’s The Rev...you know that.”

Matthew rolled his eyes, but kept up the stern tone. “Fucking quit it then, Rev.”

Jimmy’s lips turned down even more, and he screwed up his eyes. “But, I wasn’t doing anything wrong, Mattie...” The nickname came out in a whine. And then he pouted some more.

Matt wasn’t going to budge though. So, Jimmy resorted to something he knew would get his friend either to get off him, or to start laughing with him. He managed to twist one arm from Matt’s grip and poked him in the stomach.

“Fuck, Shads...you’re solid.”

“Hey,” Matthew protested. “Don’t!”

Jimmy poked him again; he growled.

“Ooooo I’m so scared...”

Matthew couldn’t do it anymore. He burst out laughing, and rolled off his friend flopping back onto the grass.

“Fucking hell, Rev...”

“You know you love me, Maffew.” Jimmy giggled.

Matt slapped the taller man on the shoulder and said, “We’re still not dating, buddy.”

“You wish we were, Shads,” Jimmy retorted.

“Yeah, right. Val might like you, but she wouldn’t tolerate me cheating on her with you.” Matthew sat up, brushing grass off the front of his top and jeans.

“True,” Jimmy said. “Maybe you should just...spend more time with her.”

Matthew blinked noting an edge to his friend’s voice. “What?”

But, Jimmy, who could never be serious for long, was already up again and running toward the front door.