Ari wasn't a lightweight. No, he knew how to hold down his liquor better than any Mexican-American in all of Texas, or so he believed. He knew his way with drinks seeing as he began drinking during his teenage years when he honestly couldn't care less whether he was caught or not. When he finally turned the crisp age of twenty-one, Dante had decided the two of them ought to go out of their way to get legally smashed, and who was Ari to deny this splendid idea.

Ari loved the taste of beer and the feeling of getting drunk. It made him feel light and wonderful, and when he tried to voice it to Dante, he was silenced with a beautiful ringing laughter and Dante's smooth voice muttering "I know." They had ended up making out on the couch, Ari wondering how he got so lucky with Dante's voice still ringing in his ear, but that was a story meant for another time.

This story is about how Aristotle Mendoza got drunker than drunk at his own twenty-first birthday party. Dante was right next to him the entire time as Ari forced burning shots down his throat, his black eyes clouded with worry.

"You're so drunk, Ari," Dante said, rolling his eyes in mock-disbelief. "I can't believe you of all people are this smashed."

"Baby, don't fret!" Ari grinned as he slurred out that phrase. Why had he never called Dante "baby?" Well, there were a lot of things Ari had never said that he felt like saying now. He moved closer to Dante, their lips close enough to feel the other's whispering breath, "God! You're fucking beautiful. Your eyes is beautiful. Your face is beautiful."

Dante pushed away the other's face, his sweet, oh so sweet, laughter breaking the atmosphere of seriousness Ari had created as he watched Dante closely. The lighter skinned boy had a fit of drunk giggling, literally giggling, which made Ari wonder what sort of man would actually giggle at the age of twenty-one. Ari smiled, not able to help himself as Dante's laughing face turned into a winking one. "You are too, baby."

Ari felt like a child again, laughing at nothing. The nickname sounded so dumb to him now that Dante had used it in such a teasing manner.

"I'm an idiot."

"My idiot."

"I love you."

"I know."

"No, like really."

"I know."

Ari wasn't sure when he started to feel so light and free due to the sheer amount of alcohol in his blood. He wasn't sure when it was that Dante decided to drink himself. Perhaps it was the way Ari was trying so many new drinks, as a curious child would grab toys and goodies that they wish to learn about. The tequila shots were something that he felt he had to try first. Dante had teased him for being so, so Mexican. Dante had a taste for vodka, so Ari found it natural to drink a few shots of vodka as well. Perhaps it was the third shot of some vodka, or maybe tequila, or something with a strong taste that left his throat burning that Ari began to feel drunker than he'd ever been before. It was strange seeing Dante in the murky light of the bar, as if Dante knew what he was doing, knew what he was ordering, knew what he was getting. It was as if he was seeing Dante in a new, albeit dingy light; a side of Dante that Ari didn't know.

It was a side of Dante that Ari was convinced he was going to discover, to discover all of Dante's hidden secrets.

Soon Ari was drunk enough to begin singing and Dante decided it was time the two of them headed home. Ari wasn't sure why Dante wasn't as drunk as he was at that moment in time. Was it because Dante was more experienced? Ari wanted to know, he wanted to learn.

Ari whined as Dante pulled him away from the bar. Since when did he stand up and since when did his arm become draped over Dante's shoulder? Ari felt light on his feet, yet heavy at the same time. His balance was off as he swayed to the music playing on the old stereo system that seemed to have made an appearance from the 1970s.

"Wanna dance?" Ari asked. The song was La Bamba, and Ari hummed along to the verses playing as Dante shook his head.

"I'm taking you home. How did you even get so drunk?"

It was a good question that had no answer Ari could think of. He laughed in response, "It's your fault."

"My fault?"

"You gave me that… whatever drink. The really good one."

"That narrows it down."

Dante's sarcastic bite in his tone caused Ari to laugh again. He could hear Dante snorting out his own breath of laughter. It was relaxing to hear Dante laughing along with Ari. There was something about the harmony their laughter created that sounded beautiful, just like Dante. Ari leaned into Dante and could feel Dante quickly shifting his weight to support the two of them.

"Dammit, you're heavy."

Ari couldn't figure out when the sounds of the bar had disappeared and the cool nighttime air surrounded them. Ari looked up into the sky and admired the stars. Dante continued to support the drunk Ari, and Ari's voice rang out his rendition of La Bamba, proudly singing out-of-tune. He could hear Dante's laughter and he stopped singing to pull away briefly from Dante's hold. He knew he was drunk and unbalanced in his steps, but he found it necessary to reach down and hold Dante's hand at that moment. Briefly, he wondered when he became so cheesy, why he was so in love.

When he felt Dante return the gesture, Ari remembered why.