A/N: Yaaay for slashy OneShots! This is one of those times when I'm stepping off my boundaries and write about a pairing I usually don't write about, and this time, I'm trying - wait for it - Adam and Mallick! Or, as us professionals (cough) call it: AngryShipping. That's what it called from now on. Spread the word. ;)

Dedication: This is for my fellow Goddess Nicole (and we have patent on the word "Fucksaw" so no one else can use it. And don't think we won't notice if you do!) ^^

A Really Special Bond, Or Whatever

"I want to thank you all for coming here today. Now, my name is Bobby Dagen, but I guess you already know that. For the sake of those of you that aren't famous nation-wide, let's start with a name-round, shall we?"

Adam was well aware that he looked like a grumpy three year-old, but he couldn't care less. If there was one group of people that he didn't feel like he had to make nice to, it was this one.

He hated everything about this. The fucking name-round, the fucking plastic chairs, fucking Oreos on a plate on the table next to the door, fucking people sitting here complaining about their lives and fucking, fucking, fucking Bobby Dagen standing there in his fucking suit and thinking that he was so much better than them just because he, unlike them, had not only gone through hell, but also written a book about it. Bastard. Adam hated him. Hated, hated, hated…

"What's your name?"

Adam's angry mind-rant was cut short when the name-round apparently reached him. He sighed and rolled his eyes to emphasize just how much he didn't want to be here.

"Adam. The guy from the bathroom."

"Hi, Adam," the group said politely, and Adam felt his hatred towards every last one of them grow a little further.

Hi, idiots, he hissed in his mind. Glad to know you. Now, I don't know about you, but personally, I feel like this whole meeting is about as meaningful as organizing your sock-drawer. What do you say we skip this and go out and get hammered, instead? I don't know what you're like when you're drunk, but surely you must be more fun than the whiny, sobby little crybabies you are now.

If only. There wasn't much he could do about it, anyway. Bobby Dagen's S.U.R.V.I.V.E-project was, just like Bobby himself had modestly pointed out, a national phenomenon, and every multimedia company in their right mind wanted to profit from it. Adam being dragged into something like this was basically unavoidable.

Bobby Dagen had been on book tours. Magazine covers. The Ellen DeGeneres Show. And if he hadn't been so famous, Adam would've guessed that he'd been on some network CEO's cock, or he'd never get an actual individual time slot on national television.

But as it was, Bobby Dagen was that famous. He was famous enough to get an hour of TV time when he had a meeting with the other survivors. He was famous enough for it to be necessary for all the other survivors to be there, to really emphasize how much they believed he could help them. And, unfortunately for Adam, he was famous enough for the network people to call Adam and offer him an unholy amount of money to come and be at his meeting.

Which was why Adam was now sitting here, with a thundercloud over his head and cursing the gods for making him so broke that he actually needed every cent anyone could offer him. No matter how much he had to degrade himself to get them.

"So," Bobby Dagen said, apparently after having a little introduction that Adam hadn't paid attention to at all. "The first thing I want you to do is think about why you're here. And not just in this room right now, but here, as in: Why are you still alive, even though most people would be dead after going through what you did."

Adam rolled his eyes again. Truth is, he'd always been proud of the fact that he'd made it out, hell, why wouldn't he be? As Bobby Dagen (it wasn't until now that Adam realized that it was impossible to just call him by his first name) had pointed out, not a lot of people would. But right now, he felt himself honestly tempted to, for no other reason than for his own amusement, say that he had no idea why he'd survived and come to think of it, maybe he shouldn't have.

His life hadn't changed that much since the bathroom, anyway. Except for more booze, more cigarettes, more…

More hating his life.

Oh, the irony.

And what was even more ironic was that he had never wanted to kill himself more than right now, when he was on a meeting called SURVIVE. But just to have something better to do, Adam forced himself to listen to the first idiot Bobby Dagen had picked out to preach his Word of the Lord. The Lord here being Bobby Dagen.

"…But to be honest, I find being here about as meaningful as organizing my sock drawer."

Adam's head snapped up and he looked at the person who said it, whom incidentally was sitting right next to him.

Adam just wouldn't be Adam if he'd actually listened to everyone introducing themselves, but the nametag of the man next to him read 'Mallick,' and when Adam saw the sling on his arm, he remembered seeing him on the news. Rich man's kid, heroin addict, but he looked a lot more groomed up in the photo the press had released than he did now. That had probably been one of the pictures his dad had taken, and then given to the journalists to have his son remembered maybe as a junkie, but a damn good-looking one.

Now, however, Mallick looked like his game had taken its toll on him. He wore wrinkled clothes and stubble, but it didn't look like the kind he'd grown on purpose. More like he never had the energy to shave.

More like life and nightmares were such weight on his shoulders that he could barely get up in the morning, let alone shave.

Sort of like the stubble on Adam's chin.

All in all, him and Mallick seemed to have a lot in common. And now, he'd quipped at Bobby Dagen.

"We're all here for your little promotional DVD, anyway," Mallick went on, and gestured feebly with his working hand. "Can't you just bring in a couple of cutouts posing as us, instead? What do I have to be here for?"

Bobby Dagen smiled politely. When this'd be aired, now would probably be when they to cut to commercial.

"That's your opinion, Mallick," he said sweetly. "But it also goes to prove that you haven't gotten the purpose of your game. Haven't you realized your own uniqueness?"

Before Mallick had even opened his mouth to answer, Bobby went on:

"So many people would've died going through what you did. But you didn't. You're a survivor. Which is why you should take this as an opportunity to help others who need to learn what it takes to survive. Other lost souls who need…"

Bobby Dagen was so caught up in his speech that he didn't notice Adam standing up from his seat until he'd already reached Mallick. But he did stop talking when Adam tapped Mallick's shoulder and mumbled:

"You want to get out of here?"

Mallick turned around and looked at Adam. Adam really wished he could've flared off one of those charming "flash every last one of your teeth at the same time even though it disobeys all laws of physics"-smiles that Bobby seemed to be so good at, but all he could manage was one of his nervous grins. Mallick grinned back. Apparently he was easily convinced.

So, in front of all the cameras, Adam and Mallick stood up and walked out the door, with Bobby Dagen staring after them.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Adam may not have been an expert in health and stuff, but he did see the downsides of drinking non-stop from five PM to eleven PM. Although, he was even less of an expert at stop doing things just because he saw downsides with them, which is why he was now seeing the entire bar like it was in a fog, and as much as he tried to keep his focus on Mallick, he was sort of… Drifting in and out.

They'd gone to this bar a couple of hours after they'd taken off from the recording. Those hours had been spent chatting, about things that may not seem very important to the rest of the world but it damn sure had restored Adam's faith in humanity. Not that either Mallick or him had much of that, but just the fact that Adam could meet someone who actually understood him was a sure proof that miracles can happen.

Adam had never felt so relaxed in someone else's company. After knowing each other for just a couple of hours, Mallick already seemed to see him for what he was and not be appalled.

They'd talked about the traps, of course. After that, they moved onto subjects like what got them there, talking about it in a way much more sincere than they'd ever be able to Bobby Dagen, and after that, they'd talked about anything that came to mind. It was around that time that Mallick had seen this bar.

Mallick was a fucking genius when he was drunk. Adam would be self-conscious about his own stupidity, but after a few rounds of tequila, he thought he'd solved all the world's problems, and Mallick seemed to think so, too.

"Dude…" Adam said and tried to keep his vision steady. "I've been thinking of this. Why doesn't Jigsaw just… You know… Pay for thepy… Ther… Therapy… For his victims? I mean, sawing off your foot… Hello! Is that supposed to make you appreciate your life?"

Mallick nodded eagerly. His eyes didn't really seem to follow the motion.

"I've been thinking just…" he sputtered out and threw his hand out."I mean, jeez, we're like… You get me. You do. It's like… I say… I think the words here…" he pointed to his own temple after missing the first few attempts, "and they come out… There!" He pointed to Adam's mouth. "I mean, come on… My fucking arm's in a sling. Does that make me… Like my life? No!"

Adam scoffed.

"It's like… Get your facts straight, factsaw! Or… Jigsaw. Jigsaw is his name."

Mallick nodded again, and then exploded in a cackle. Adam looked at him, intrigued.

"What? What… What's so funny?"

Mallick kept giggling hysterically as he grabbed Adam's arm and pulled him closer, so he could whisper in his ear.

"You… You said 'factsaw.' That sounds a bit like… Like… Fucksaw. Maybe that's his name. Fucksaw."

Adam just looked at him dumfounded for a second, before he threw his head back and laughed, too.

"Fucksaw! That's fucking… Brilliant!"

"I know, right?" Mallick grinned, ridiculously proud of himself, and raised his glass. "To Fucksaw!"

"To Fucksaw!"

Adam raised his glass, too, and they clinked them together before knocking them back. As if they needed more. Then they sat quiet for a second. Adam felt the drowsiness, which was basically unavoidable after drinking for six hours straight, creep up on him, but he didn't want to go home. The moment was too beautiful for that.

Or, maybe it was the booze that made it beautiful, but fuck it. He wanted to make it last.

"Dude…" he slurred and leaned closer to Mallick again, to show him the depth of the secret he was about to tell him. "Can I… Like… Tell you something?"

Mallick quickly put on a serious face and put his hand on Adam's shoulder. Adam almost teared up. Damn, it was beautiful.

"You can tell me anything, Adam," Mallick said, and Adam nodded slowly. They understood each other.

"You know the guy… Who was in that trap with me?" Adam went on, trying to keep his voice down. "L… Lawrence? Lawrence Gordon?"

Mallick seemed to go through his memory file cabinet for a minute before he nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah. Lawrence Gordon."

"Yeah, him," Adam said and grabbed Mallick's arm, mainly to keep himself steady. "When we were… In there… Together… I couldn't help but thinking that he was… Kind of hot. You know? We had, like, a bond, sort of… Like… A bromance… Thing."

Mallick cocked his head and looked at Adam, like he was analyzing him. Then he threw his head back and laughed again.

"Dude!" he said when he'd calmed down. "Are you gay?"

"No!" Adam exclaimed. He tried to keep serious, but when he saw the look on Mallick's face, he had to laugh, too. "I just… I don't know… Can't a guy want to… Experiment?"

This was apparently very amusing, too, because Mallick let out a roar of laughter, and again, Adam couldn't keep himself from laughing with him.

"Are you hitting on me, man?" Mallick managed to gasp between new fits of laughter.

Adam laughed even harder, but couldn't get himself to take his hand from Mallick's arm. Probably this was partly because he was so drunk he'd collapse if nothing kept him straight.

"Why not?" he giggled and rested his head on Mallick's shoulder in a way he hoped seemed adorable. Damn, he felt on top of the game tonight. He was usually never this charming on the first date. "I really felt like we have… Like… A really special bond, or… Whatever. You know?"

Mallick laughed again. It seemed to be his favorite defense mechanisms. Other than alcohol, of course.

"Dude, this is so weird!" he exclaimed and swept down another tequila. "I'm not gay!"

"Okay…" Adam mumbled and closed his eyes, with his head still on Mallick's shoulder. "Whatever, man."

xxxxxxxxxxx

Adam gasped when Mallick pushed him roughly against the hallway wall, almost knocking him down, but to be fair, they were both still so drunk that they'd probably fall down on the floor sooner or later, anyway.

They'd been making out on and off on the entire way back to Adam's apartment. This had, of course, led to numerous incidents with one of them falling on their asses onto the pavement and the other one trying to get them back on their feet, assuming that the other one hadn't been dragged down due to their lip-lock, that was. It was like that now, too. Mallick was so reluctant to break their contact even for a second, he'd forgotten to close the door when they'd crashed in.

"Dude…" Adam said sleepily and pointed a swaggering finger towards the door. "You're giving my neighbors a freebie of the good stuff…"

Mallick grudgingly pulled away from Adam to go and close the door. When it was closed and locked, he turned around, stroke a pose that in his current state felt extremely sexy, and took off his shirt. Adam made an approving growl and tried to take off his own shirt just as sexily, but it got stuck halfway over his head. Mallick had to help him get it off all the way, and then they were finally touching again, lips pressing together and Mallick shoving his tongue deep into his mouth, the alcohol numbing the odd, tingly feeling but also making them bolder to go further.

Adam started getting hard when Mallick went down to plant sloppy, wet kisses on his neck, and he responded by running his nails down Mallick's back, slowly and teasingly, before bringing his hand to his belt buckle. The clicking noise cut through their moans, and Mallick groaned when Adam brought his hand into his boxers.

"I thought you weren't gay," Adam mumbled when his hand finally found what it'd been searching.

Mallick grumbled in annoyance and started working on Adam's belt, mostly just to shut him up. Why did he have to ruin it?

"Dude," he scowled and started pulling at the rim of Adam's jeans. "I'm just experimenting."

Adam nodded in complete understanding as he kept jacking Mallick off.

"Yeah. Experimenting."

Mallick pulled his face from Adam's neck and looked into his eyes.

"Yeah, I mean… This is totally something two friends can do together."

Adam nodded again.

"Yeah. And it's not like we're not friends."

"Yeah. Or… I mean, totally, we're friends."

"Yeah. Totally."

Experimenting was good. And Mallick and him shared such a special bond, it only made sense for them to do this together.

Both Adam and Mallick seriously thought that they could do this and blame the alcohol. That they would have sex and leave it all behind them when they woke up the next morning.

They were both wrong, of course.