Wildcat sat slumped in the locker room, long after the area had cleared of his coworkers. He looked up when the door opened, raising his bottle to Christopher. "Hey," he slurred, "What'cha doin' 'ere?"

"I - needed some time to think." Daniels eyed the big man. "You?"

Harris snorted. "I got dumped!" He waved his bottle in the air, swaying tipsily. "Fuckin' bitch hit me with a bottle."

"I saw." Daniels shifted on his feet. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah." Harris swayed in silence for a moment, his one good eye focused on Christopher. "Where's yer guy?" he slurred at last.

Daniels frowned. "I don't have one," he replied, his stomach tightening a bit.

"Oh no?" Harris took another drink, still swaying. "I thought you and Rhino were - "

"We're not!" Christopher's face darkened. "AJ doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about."

"Huh." Harris got shakily to his feet, managing to successfully stride over to Christopher and back him up against the lockers. "In that case, how 'bout we..." He leaned down, capturing Daniels' lips in a sloppy kiss as he seized the smaller man around the waist.

Christopher pushed Harris back, although after a moment's hesitation. Despite the alcohol on Wildcat's breath, the kiss didn't feel bad at all. "Sorry," Christopher murmured, sliding out of the bigger man's grip, "but I'm not ready, and you're drunk."

"Yeah." Harris plopped back down on the bench, raising his bottle in salute. "Worth a shot!" He took another long swig. Christopher sat on the bench across from him, having had enough solitude for the moment. They gazed at each other in silence, Harris continuing to drink. "So how come AJ's all after Rhino?" Harris murmured after a moment.

Daniels sighed deeply. "Because Rhino and I had crappy breakups around the same time," he explained, his voice resigned, "and we had comfort sex. AJ found out, and he can't get it through his thick skull that Rhino's just a friend!" He buried his face in his hands, shaking his head. "I don't know what to do! He just won't listen, and he won't leave Rhino alone! I don't know if he still cares about me, or if it's just injured pride. I just don't know!" He kicked the bench in frustration, scowling down at it.

"What the fuck's wrong with guys?" Harris muttered, gazing morosely at Daniels. "They turn into fuckin' crazy bitches overnight!" He sighed, taking a drink and offering the bottle to Christopher.

"No thanks." Christopher echoed Wildcat's sigh. "I don't get it either."

"Heeeyyy-ey!" A big form stumbled backwards through the door, turning around in two tipsy circles before facing them. "Ey!" James was so drunk, he could hardly stand. He tottered on his feet, attempting to take a drink from the bottle of whiskey in his hand, and spilling most of it down his shirt. "Bar next door's a DIVE, man," he slurred. "Fuckin' pit! They - they tried to stop me drinkin' - fuck 'em! I took this!" He waved the whiskey at them, nearly dropping it.

Harris had stiffened, still sober enough to glare at his newly ex-partner. Daniels looked nervously between them, wondering if he should get out, or stay and attempt to moderate. "Wha'?" James demanded, frowning at Harris. He stumbled backwards, flopping onto the couch.

"What?" Harris growled angrily. "You fuckin' ditched me, you bitch!"

"Oh yeah." James laughed, attempting another drink and getting most of it in his mouth. "Yeah I did. Fuck you man!" He waved the bottle in the air, laughing drunkenly. Harris' eye narrowed. He raised his nearly empty bottle, hurling it at the floor by the couch. Christopher had to jump up to avoid the spray of glass. James just laughed, brushing shards of glass off his coat.

"Why?" Harris demanded, standing and balling his fists in anger. "Why the fuck did you do it?"

James snorted, giving him the finger with his free hand. Daniels got in front of Harris before the big man could charge his ex.

"Let's get a cab," Christopher stated, grabbing Harris' arm and forcing him out the door. Harris stumbled along with him, muttering curses as they headed out of the building. Their cab arrived in a few minutes, and Christopher gave the driver the address to his small local apartment. He glanced at his cell phone, then at Harris, taking a deep breath and asking something he really preferred not to. "Chris - is there anyone I can call, for him?"

"Fuck if I know." Harris snorted. "You know, fuck him! Fuck the drunk bastard! He can clean up his own fuckin' puke!" He scowled at the back of the front seat. "Always fuckin' drunk," he muttered, quieting for a few moments. He fidgeted, glancing at Christopher as if he had something he wanted to say, then looking out the window. He looked back a few minutes later, sighing deeply. "Roode," he muttered.

Christopher blinked. "What?"

"He's been pal'in with Roode lately," Harris told him reluctantly. "Don't know if the guy gives a shit, but cha could try."

"Right." Christopher found the number on his phone, making the call as Harris went back to staring out the window.

Read Chapter Two of Bottom of the Bottle part of the Angels in the Storm series by GG Bailey