Author: novel_machinist
Story: The Devil is a Gentleman
Theme: Literary / Octarine 6, Give a man a fire and he's warm for a day, but set fire to him and he's warm for the rest of his life.
Word Count: 585
Summary: Alan and Carl's history, how they met and how Alan learned about the end
Rating: PG13
Warnings: none
Notes: I didn't think that this fit in the main story anymore, but I like it and wanted to show it to people. This is well, background and can show you how Alan's feeling during the main story.



Give a man a fire and he's warm for a day, but set fire to him and he's warm for the rest of his life.

"I- I don't know about this, Nina…" Hesitation was supposed to be lost in youth. Had he looked back, Alan would have been upset to see how little of it he'd lost. "I can stay home."

Nina was a fellow liberal arts student with brightly colored hair of every shade. "Alan, you cannot sit in your room all goddamn year." She tugged again. "No moping or arguing, we got an extra ticket and you're going."

"I'm not moping…I just want some alone time…"

"A bad break up is not the end of the world, Alan." She responded, and though she was small and rather birdlike, she was deceptively strong. She continued to tug and Alan tottered along behind her, backpack clutched in one hand..

"Maybe for people like you it is-" he started, but her look made him relent. "Fine…"

Twenty-one was one of those ages where any breakup was the end of the world. His first serious relationship had ended in something resembling flames and he wanted to hide forever. In the end Alan allowed Nina and her boyfriend, Joseph to smuggle him along with them to some concert that he hadn't wanted to go to.

Not that Alan didn't like the band, but the owner of the pot-smelling van he was riding in was none other than the first string lineman, Carl Jera. Alan had never been fond of the jock type, long history of seeing the bottom of their shoes. He’d spent the last two years of high school being shoved into things, tripped, and once pushed down a flight of stairs.

Carl, however, seemed nice enough. He had the typical vocabulary of a sports star, peppered with gendered slurs and ample use of the word ‘gay’. Other than that, however, he was rather genuine. For someone who had pro contracts waiting on him, he was a good guy. He brushed off offers to pay for gas and only requested some beer once they hit the concert. They camped outside with the van; the bonfire, beers, and pot helped lift Alan’s mood.

Joseph took a group of people off on a beer run while Nina, Carl and a few others were left behind with the fire. Nina plopped down on his lap and hugged him, wrapping her arms around his head and pushing his face into her chest. He'd thought Carl was doing something else and was a little too intoxicated to think before he spoke. "Ewwwww boobs." The comment left his mouth without his thinking.

"I'll have you know they are nice." She said, not releasing his head.

"I'll have you know, I do not care what I am told, they are gross." Alan pushed then, dislodging his head from her grasp. After he got up he crossed over to the nearly empty cooler, where he noticed that Carl was looking at him strangely.

"Did you just say boobs were gross?"

He could feel his face get hot. For the life of himself, Alan could not formulate a good response and just shrugged.

What Carl did in return was completely unexpected. "Shit, man, every other word out of my mouth is 'fag', I'm sorry."

"Did…you just apologize?" Alan almost dropped the can from his hands.

Carl's grin was uncomfortable, and he didn't extend his hand, but his voice was genuine. "Well, yeah. I must have come off like a prick. And I didn't mean to."

"I'm not one of those easily offended types." His own smile was uncomfortable, but not intimidated.