Greg really loved being out with Ian. He could now say that unequivocally. Right now, in this shiny, new-age bar slash restaurant slash dancehall (it was weird) with white fixtures and a thoroughly Tron feel to it, he couldn't help but smile at his good fortune. Somehow, he'd held onto his boyfriend for more than two weeks, which was a new lifetime record. (Seriously.) And said boyfriend was absolutely gorgeous. Maybe it was just his complete buzz talking, but Ian looked amazing tonight, possibly the most amazing Greg had ever seen him. This night was just confirming everything Greg's brain wanted to view negatively: this was a good idea. Dating could work. He didn't need crack when he could get this plowed. Man he was pretty drunk already. At least everyone around him was drunk. It made his drunkenness seem a little less awkward. But Greg drunk... was not your typical human being drunk.

He was leaning against the wall near the dance floor in this bar, grinning, almost leering, at Ian. He didn't really have to do that, but being a predatory, insane drunk suited him a little too well. "So.. so this bar is awesome, am I right or what?" He slid an arm around Ian's waist, pulling the man closer to him. The smile on Greg's face was damn near irrepressible. "But I don't know if you can dance, and that is a real shame, because I'd like to dance and if you can't... well, we'll just have to figure out some other method of drunken foreplay." Meet Greg, the extremely blunt, smirking drunk. "Plus, I really love this song." This song being MGMT's 'Electric Feel', which he really did love, sober or not.

Greg did try to make himself look a little better for this date. His problem was that no matter what he did, he always kind of looked the same. Yes, he was gaining back weight and color and every day he looked a little bit more like a human being, but as far as dressing himself, he couldn't make himself look any fancier than he normally did. Greg was used to it at this point, though he wished he had Ian's ability to completely transform himself into a fucking runway model. Greg always looked like Greg. Not that it seemed to mind to Ian. He wasn't quite as far gone as Greg, but he was tipsy, and he didn't mind Greg's constant public fondling of him. If anyone else minded it, Greg could punch them in the face, so it was all good. In any case, Greg was just glad this was going well, and that Ian liked this place, calling him babe in the process. Greg smirked at that. My God, they were dating. That was an odd concept.

Mock angry, Ian noted that he could totally dance, and that Greg's words sounded like a challenge. Worming out of Greg's embrace, he grabbed his hand, leading him out to the dance floor. Greg couldn't get the stupid smirk off his face. The throngs of people shielded them from the other areas of the room, and Greg couldn't help but pull Ian a bit closer than necessary to him as they danced, the music swirling around them. Greg giggled a bit. "God I love this song." He giggled again, letting his hands stray a little too -

The shattering sound of 'Maneater' pulled Greg away from Ian. Searching his pockets, his grin slid away. "Fuck - that's my - hold on -" He pulled the phone out of the pocket of his jeans, glancing at the name on - shit. He answered it anyway, even though he really shouldn't have. Hey, he was drunk. What's the worst that could happen?

"Guess what?" Greg said in response, almost diabolically chipper. "I'm drunk too! Happy drunk. Very happy drunk." He did wonder why he could hear Maia's voice echoing from somewhere outside his ear. He just had to get her off the phone so he could go back to dancing with Ian. "And I'm busy. Like, really busy. Mmm-kay?" He hung up the phone, turning back to Ian. "...Sorry. A friend said she's kinda, like, sloshed? Or didn't have to say it, but you know, but she'll find a way home, I'm sure." He wrapped an arm around Ian's waist again. "So. Dancing."

To be totally honest, Greg didn't really think about the strange echoing going on with Maia's voice. He was too drunk, with his absolutely divine-looking boyfriend, and getting ready to dance. There were other things on his mind besides why Maia sounded like she was in a wind tunnel. Greg's first priority was getting her off the phone. As long as he didn't mention her name - which he didn't - Ian had no reason to suspect anything. Or so he thought. He turned back to Ian, trying to be flirtatious, but his eyes were fixated on something else. Greg's arm snaked around Ian's waist, he glanced up to see his absolute worst nightmare: Maia Vaughn staring at the pair of them. Ian testily asked if that was her, his tone deceptively calm. It was the kind of calm that the mass murderers on CSI used when they were being interrogated. Ian wanted to kill her. Just perfect.

"Yes," Greg mumbled, getting a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. This was going to suck. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. She noticed them in her swiveling chair at the bar, swiveling so that her back was turned to them. Greg's mind went into overdrive. So what did he do? Pretend he had no idea that his parole officer and his boyfriend were talking about each other to him? He knew he could be dumb sometimes, but Ian definitely wouldn't buy that. Maia might, depending on the severity of her drunkenness. Then Greg remembered that he told Ian he'd been out picking up his drunk parole officer, and his face went completely white. Shit. This was a very bad situation, and he wasn't even sober enough to think of a solution that didn't involve a three-way. Which was not a solution, Greg, how old are you, twelve?

Maia came up to them, looking pretty decent in a form-fitting pink and purple dress. It was a color explosion; maybe in a muted form, it would look nice - Jesus Greg focus. Hand on her hip, she commented that they looked cozy, and asked if they were having fun. She was clearly as drunk as Ian, at least.

"Indeed." He bit his lip, glancing around awkwardly. "Well, then... shit..." Greg ran his fingers through his hair. And Electric Feel was ending, too. Damn it. He just wanted to dance. Being drunk did wonders to his already impaired judgment. "Yeah, you two have met each other, no point in introducing you..." And now he was thinking out loud. Brilliance.

Greg was usually pretty oblivious when he was drunk - everything in his mind focused on what he wanted and whatever was immediately available to aid in that - but he could sense the insane amount of tension rising in the air. Greg sputtered out some random word vomit, but Ian covered for him, clearly waiting to get some sort of ill-formed revenge on her. Why he did it by wrapping his lanky arm around Greg's waist, making him uncomfortably aroused, Greg wasn't sure. He was plowed, completely plowed. Ian noted that it was a bit of a surprise, seeing Maia in a place like this. Greg almost said that it really wasn't, given that his complaint rendered her a situational drunk, but the more he kept his mouth shut, the better, he figured. It'd get him out of here sooner, away from Maia. They could figure out how to piece things back together later. His mind was already darkening, wondering how the hell he'd get out of this alive. Those silly little half-truths piled up quickly.

Maia made the pointed observation that she wasn't talking to him, but Ian. Greg bristled a bit, but the warmth emanating from Ian's hand defused this. Honestly. Ian was his boyfriend. Maia was nothing more than his parole officer. Why was he even worried about what would happen here? He was obviously on Ian's side. Except... he wasn't. Oh, this was too much to worry about when drunk. Maia noted that she didn't expect to see these two here together, either, which Greg had to say something about, being plastered and a bit irritated. "Seriously, Maia, you've read my file, I'm pretty sure you know there's about a 50 percent chance that I'll be at any bar you go to." He paused, thinking. "Actually, the way things are working out, I'm likely to be at every fucking bar you're in." He was more irritated than he thought, evidently.

Greg wasn't thinking straight as all this unfolded. He wouldn't be thinking straight if he was sober, but being drunk made everything forty times worse. He wanted to be with Ian right now, that was why he was out here on the dance floor, arms snaked around each others' limbs. Were he sober, he wouldn't have let his irritation get the better of him, but Greg was, first and foremost, completely selfish. Ian and he were an item. Maia should respect that, despite the fact that she had no idea what was going on. Also, he'd told Maia point-blank that he wasn't the relationship type. Until he suddenly was. Greg spat out his words, yes, but the alcohol couldn't mask the sudden onset of explosive guilt. Oh, what was he doing? Maia was a friend. She didn't need to be yelled at. Yes, he didn't want to lose Ian, but if he lost Maia, he'd get sent back to prison for sure. He slid back into awkward silence as Ian took over for him, clearly relishing the opportunity to kick her while she was down. He squirmed, shoving his hands in his pockets, feeling his face flush from the shame. Getting drunk while dealing with withdrawals wasn't very smart.

He could tell Maia was ready to crack, but Ian asked if Maia stalking Greg in bars was just a recent thing, and the realization made her eyes sparkle in the worst way possible. Maybe it was tears... Greg wanted to run away, but he couldn't. He'd picked a side. With her voice wavering in an octave it didn't rest in normally, Maia whimpered that Greg told him. Yes. Yes he did, he thought as she began to stride away in her high heels. Greg grabbed her arm before she could get too far away from him, though. Drunk reflexes for the win. He stared at her for a few seconds, trying to assemble something intelligent to -

"Ian didn't know it was you until just now," Greg blathered out, "because I never mentioned your name because I knew he'd get mad about it since he hates you."

Greg thought about what he said for a few seconds, glancing at Maia before glancing back at Ian. Well... oops. "But... uh... I don't hate you?" Greg needed to stop digging himself deeper.

This was all his fault. Completely and utterly his fault. He shouldn't have lied to either of them. Maia told him herself, it would end up hurting people. Ian seemed fine, though - just fixated on getting Maia out of his line of sight. Maia was another story. Greg knew her a little better than Ian did, and that voice crack nearly killed him, despite being completely sloshed. He didn't want to lose either of them, at least not like this. This was a good night fifteen minutes ago! Now he was trapped in a karmic tug of war. Lose Maia and go to jail. Lose Ian and lose pretty much any reason you have for living. Why did this shit happen to him? In that moment, Greg made a decision, but didn't say anything about it, trying instead to rectify what happened with Maia. Ian wasn't letting it happen, though, immediately assuming Maia was stalking Greg. Which wasn't true, but hit close enough to home for Maia to screech back at Ian that this was none of his business. Great. He was also trapped in a karmic cat fight between his buxom parole officer... and his skinny beanpole boyfriend. That couldn't end well.

"Any of you throws a punch and I kill you," Greg said as soon as Ian grabbed on to his hand. He ignored the flood of depraved imagery sinking into his brain. ...And, with a sigh, he realized this evening was just not working out. Greg was so drunk he couldn't think straight. Now he was being yanked on by both sides. And vaguely wanted to be yanked - oh what the fuck was wrong with him?!

Maia pulled her arm away from Greg, sighing, not commenting on his massively inappropriate cover. For once. She, with a fortitude that Greg didn't expect from her, said that it didn't matter, with a shrug that said quite a bit. And it dawned on him. Greg squeaked in realization, his eyes wide, wanting to reach out and grab her again but knowing that was a bad idea. Unless he really wanted to get arrested, for real this time. He didn't dare turn towards Ian. He'd be able to read that crushed, guilty, frightened, appalled, aroused, confused, all-around awkward face in an instant. Trying to get his voice not to squeak again, he took a sharp breath. "...it does, doesn't it?"

Why could he only be perceptive when the realization would completely ruin his life? He quit for her, and - oh God the refusing the sex, how did he not see it there? And the hugging and the fact that she kept letting him off the hook, Jesus Christ. His face drained of the remaining color in it.

And everything went to hell in a handbasket, as Greg's aunt would say. There wasn't any other way to describe whatever was going on. Greg was still paralyzed with realization, a realization no one else in his immediate bubble seemed to understand - Maia Vaughn was in love with him. Him. The person who single-handedly ruined her day almost every time he popped into her life. How did that -? Better yet, why? She'd lose everything in a heartbeat if she ever admitted that to anyone. Greg wished he was sober, or somewhere where Ian wasn't trying to pick a fight with his parole officer. Ian was, understandably, pissed, plus a bit drunk. Ian also didn't know about Maia's very short fuse, and might find himself dead in a ditch if he didn't stop. But Greg couldn't bring himself to say anything. He just stood there, blank and confused and wanting to get the hell out of all this.

Ian mentioned that this did have a lot to do with him, seeing as Greg was his boyfriend - and something in Greg's mind snapped. Yes. He was supposed to be siding with Ian. Who cared if Maia loved him? She never said a word. She didn't get there in time. If all this was about her own lovesick nature, she needed to grow up. ...But he couldn't -

And Ian grabbed him and kissed him, sloppily, fully rousing him from his shocked reverie. As soon as Ian pulled away from him, Greg moved to pull him away, knowing full well that Maia just wasn't in a good mood. Plus, that was kind of hot. In a strange, forceful, tables-are-turned sort of way. He was a bit too late, though, as Maia, the wrath of God in her eyes, smashed Ian against the wall, saying that the only reason Ian wasn't bleeding on the ground was because of Greg. Greg snapped. Again. This was going to end now.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Maia, get off him!" Greg gently pushed Maia away, because he didn't like being rough with girls. That was against his limited moral code. He glared at her. "We're all kind of plowed right now, and not making good decisions" (he glared pointedly at Ian for a few seconds) "so let's stop acting like third graders, okay?!" He turned back to Maia. "You are being a bitch though." He knew he had to get her to leave, and, being drunk as he was, knew this was really the only way to get that to happen. "It's bad form to interrupt someone else's date and I told you I was busy. I'm sorry you lack other friends or imaginary lovers or whatever the fuck you think we are, but seriously."

Greg, miraculously, did manage to get the two of them to separate. He was afraid that, since he wasn't exactly physically imposing, the two of them would just laugh off his suggestion and continue on their dangerous path. Maia let go of Ian; Ian sank to the floor, being a bit of a drama queen in Greg's opinion. It wasn't like anyone would come out of this mentally unscathed by him, anyway. His boyfriend was a combative, possessive mess, just like Greg. Maia was in love with him, and now that she'd been clearly rebuffed, would do God knows what about it. And this was all Greg's fault, and he knew it. He didn't need his neurotic mind to tell him that much. Maia, after listening to Greg's accumulated irritation at this whole situation, simply nodded before striding off. Greg did nothing to stop her, though he did watch her walk away, wondering what he'd just let wander out of his life. He did love her, if not romantically, then in that friendly way. Maia was somebody who meant a lot to him. Even if she didn't believe it. Even if he was dating a guy who loathed her. He wasn't the same as Ian.

Speaking of him, Greg turned to Ian, offering a hand. "I'm assuming I made the right choice here. But I'm probably going to find myself in jail shortly after tonight, since she was the only thing keeping me from prison." Greg pulled him up anyway, conflicted beyond all reason. He shouldn't have to pick between his two closest friends, should he? And it wasn't his fault Maia loved him, right? But he had made a decision about tonight a few minutes ago, and he was going to act on it.

He stared at Ian, trying to figure out the best way to word what he was trying to say. He didn't know if Maia was still watching him, but at this point, he wasn't sure if he cared. Everything was darkness. Finally, he sighed.

"...I'm really sorry about all this." That wasn't what he meant to say? Oh well. "Really. I didn't think it would ever be an issue. And much as she wants to believe the opposite is true, I never said anything specific about you to her." He frowned, brown eyes trailing off towards the DJ. He was spinning something slow, something that sounded like Fleetwood Mac. How appropriate. "...I want to stay with you tonight."