gotta do more, gotta be more.

Tom had found himself nearly choking on the contents of his cocktail, Nathan quickly rubbing at his back to ease him. Now, he should have expected Chuck to have ended his set with quite the lasting message. He'd known the guy for too long at this point. "That has to be in the top three greatest endings to a reading I've ever seen." He told his boyfriend, standing up to give him his well deserved standing ovation. Even if it might have offended some people, there was no denying Chuck's talent with words. And well... some of the best art was a bit forward. "That was phenomenal, Chuck." He said with a bright smile.

Chuck, ever the entertainer, was already thinking ahead, "Do you think that was enough? I'm thinking next time I have a false panel in the front of my shirt so I can rip it off and have nipple tassels to twirl..." Chuck shimmied his chest, clearly coordinated enough to pull off such a stunt if he really wanted to. Tom was just so cuddly, it was impossible not to want to give him a squish every time he saw him so Chuck pulled him in for a bear hug, lifting his feet off the floor just a little. "You really mean that? Because you know I cherish your feedback, Tommy."

"Is it?" His friends all seemed to have varying criteria for what was and wasn't camp, and it'd caused many a disagreement, but he still didn't think whatever was happening on that stage tonight was it. "Fuck trying too hard's like my whole thing too. I'm gonna have to find something else now." Although he was always hesitant to share his writing, it was through poetry that he gained the freedom to express himself, without his usual armor of jokes. That was the scariest part of it, the sheer vulnerability, and that's why it was usually just for him. It didn't have to be very good, even if his friends would support him either way, it served its purpose as a creative outlet. He shook his head, "Probably not. Plus this girl keeps looking at me from across the room, and I don't want to break her heart. If I get up there she's gonna figure out I'm gay."

"Time for a makeover?" Chuck almost seemed too eager, though they'd been friends for longer than they hadn't by that point so obviously he didn't actually care. If he had, his first port of call would have been to give Pitts a decent haircut, but alas they'd all had their parent-dictated bullshit back in the day. What mattered most was that they'd found poetry and the freedom that came with it. "If you get up there?" Chuck stepped back, hand on his jutted hip to survey the man before him. He was the last person to believe in a one size fits all definition of sexuality, but that girl had to be blind if she couldn't tell Gerald was a card-carrying gay. "Well if she doesn't get it, I'll help nudge her along-" Chuck's hand struck out, gripping Gerald's collar and yanking him in for a kiss. Truly, it was the least Chuck could do for a friend being hunted across the bar. "Please tell me that wasn't your first kiss," he asked when they parted, expression as shitheaded as ever.

"You're censoring him!," Gerald shouted from his spot in the crowd, the rest of the guys not far from him. The couple times he'd gone up at one of these things it was only because someone literally, physically shoved him up on stage. As nice as it was to feel included he much preferred to observe, rather than perform, and even then he was sure he'd find some new exciting way to embarrass himself still. He waved to Chuck as he got off stage and met him halfway. "A lot of these people.." he lowered his voice, "well they're not very good, are they."

Chuck appreciated his friends' support in all of his wacky endeavours, especially when it came to his poetry. A live reading night at some ill-equipped bar wasn't exactly five star but it was something. They all knew the feeling of having something to say and not being able to say it any other way, so even in a room full of people he'd never feel judged if his boys were there. "I'd say it's camp, but yeah, I think they're just trying too hard to say what they think people want to hear, honestly. Like yes, we get it, the world has gone to shit but it's okay, you can take ten minutes off to wax poetic about your man sucking it clean off the bone." Not that it was any different to any other day with Chuck, but he did genuinely believe in the seeking of freedom in any and all ways. "You sure you're not gonna go up?"

"You...?" Gerald shook his head, stopping that thought before he could finish it. Of course he knew a party like that. "I think you can go out and keep a clean apartment, they're not mutually exclusive," he teased, shutting the trunk to Chuck's car. "What if... my Pride gift to you, I'm really brave and go to whatever weird 'it's-not-sex-it's-art' party you want."

"I know... I just didn't expect to live long enough to find out," he laughed, though it wasn't entirely a joke. He'd intended on burning bright and fast and now he was on the other side of it there was no huge revelation, just the quiet truth that life went on. "Oh shit, we're doing Pride gifts now? You need a vacuum?" he gestured to the back seat as they got back in the car. "Actually... I did hear of something that fits the bill going on in the city... Since you're feeling so brave and all. I think we need to swing by your place and get you dolled up though. You know half of getting yourself in the right headspace for these things is being dressed for the occasion."

Marina trailed coolly behind Chuck not even attempting to help him with the vacuum cleaner instead shooting off a quick text, "You're right Charles, life was better when you couldn't remember living it." She scrunched up her nose, "That is not a thing and I don't really know why that would be something you want to do."

"Sorry," he quipped, knowing he wasn't in the right company to be making such jokes. "You're even more right, as usual... except about the parties. They're real and I can't prove it because you're not allowed to take phones in and I know everything that comes out of my mouth sounds like a joke but I swear it on Two-Bit's cock that I'm not lying."

"You did get a discount on that new vacuum on account of it being Pride, so there's an upside." Tom said with a shrug of his shoulders, trying to bring a smile back on Chuck's features. "You know, I actually heard of one of those happening tonight. And they have RuPaul dj'ing." He teased, knowing that Chuck surely needed a night out. Hell, he'd also put himself in that camp.

"Yeah, well, thanks for letting me suck you off in front of the salesman to prove my game is real," he said loud enough that an older couple walking by might have heard if the wind was blowing the right way. "Ru Thee Paul? I'm listening... I also have a spare gimp suit for you so don't worry about that." The part about the gimp suit was definitely a joke but he was never going to get tired of keeping Tom guessing.

Walt knew Vaughn far too well to know that glazed over look on his features meant that he'd lost him in that back half. But that was a part of the guy's charm. He was as gorgeous as he was aloof. Walt took one last sip of his cocktail before racing after Vaughn towards the diving boards. Of course, the more athletic of the two made it to the ladder first but he'd kept up with him. A result of his far gone lacrosse days. "If you don't mind, I'm pretty sure it says those named Walt go first." He teased as he began to ascend the ladder.

Vaughn glanced around, caught off guard by the idea that there was a rule that Walt had to go first. Aside from his general cluelessness, he was well into the perks of a Rosewood party so his brain was well and truly out of the building. "Hey, wait, where does it say–" Still, Walt had started climbing and he wasn't stupid enough to fuck around on a ladder so he just diligently followed. Not that he was complaining, the view was certainly... viewing. "Looks higher from up here," he exhaled, wandering toward the edge of the platform with no hesitation. "I reckon I could do like, forty backflips before I hit the water." A gross over-exaggeration, but he wasn't wrong about it being a long way down. "Race you down?" he smirked, ever devious as he gave Walt a pat on the ass for inspiration.

"This is true." If her family had a crest it'd be anxious but in a kind of funny way, so like a chihuahua or one of those pet monkeys that has to wear a diaper. "Nooo," she refuted, though hardly convincing as they both knew she'd mostly definitely make a run for it. A routine was something she hoped would distract Vaughn long enough that he'd forget about the diving board all-together. She didn't think she'd have one so readily prepared. "That's... Is that how that goes?," she said of the tune he was humming and started to mirror his moves.

"I mean, I could blackmail you," he offered as an alternative, though there was no alternative to the fact that he wanted her to jump with him. "I'll tell your man you're... a serial pool pooper. That you love the thrill of risking being caught." Still, he knew his chances were slim so by that point he was just enjoying being a pest. That was the magic of Vaughn, nothing was ever any deeper with him than the desire to have a good time. "Yeah– Ra-ra-rat sushi..." he trailed off, always confident even when he was so, so wrong. "Ooh, shots! You want one? We should get one for Walt too..." he narrowed his eyes and surveyed the party for their baldy headed bestie, "he'll probably need one to wash down the chlorine and dick taste."

While Vaughn shuffled them towards the diving boards she tried to side step the opposite direction, even if she knew it was no use. "Please don't say we're going to die, that's just really unnecessary and dramatic." Her shoulders relaxed, not one to ever put up too much of a fight, about anything. And she was easily peer pressured. "You have to go first, or maybe we do it at the same time, waiiiit. Like synchronized swimming. We need a routine."

"Unnecessary and dramatic is basically my family crest," he pointed out as if he had no choice in the matter. It was what it was and, well, he'd never been all that great at thinking for himself unless it involved misbehaving. "But if I go first you're just gonna run. I know you, Gem." At that point he would have gone along with anything to get her to play along so coming up with a routine was probably the most normal idea that could have eventuated. "Sol is the real dancer between us but I do know one..." he released her from the bear hug only to grab her by the wrists and start doing the Just Dance version of Rasputin– though if his humming was anything to go by he had the lyrics so, so wrong.

"That would certainly be a pro." Walt nodded, as he made mental note of the point Vaughn had made all on his own. That in itself was another point to the pro side. "Look at that, the wheels up there are churning at the thought of this. I'm honestly flattered." He said, patting at Vaughn's chest. He let his hand linger against his chest, something he'd not so humbly brag to Gemma about later. "So are we jumping off of that motherfucker, or what? Gotta make it happen because I'm like a shot or two from not being able to get up there."

He'd almost connected the dots, but fumbled it at the last second when he thought Walt was commending him for coming up with the idea to jump off the diving block. Either way, his dopey grin was infectious as he reached for Walt's hand on his chest. "Come on then," he tugged on his hand as he started off, "race you!" Gone were the days where Vaughn had been trapped in his knee brace and left to hobble behind everyone. Now he was whooping and hollering like the sweet, albeit boneheaded, jock he was as he tore through the party to get to the stairs.

"I'm gonna go with probably... not?" Gemma eyed him quizzically, as as if trying to climb into that little head of his. Once he nodded towards the diving boards she followed his gaze then immediately shook her head. "Oh no you have fun with that. I'll watch, y'know, from way down here, but I'm getting solo mission vibes, for sure."

"Boo! Tomatoes, tomatoes!" Vaughn advanced on Gemma, using his significant height advantage to envelop her in a bear hug. Not that he expected to get very far, but he still started shuffling her toward the diving platform. It was one of those moments where it became clear that he was certainly his fathers' son. "Come on, if we die at least we'll die young and sexy."

"You and me? " Walt asked Vaughn with a raise of his eyebrow, pointing between the two of them. "I don't know, it might mess up the group dynamics but I think it'd be a good... oh..." Walt joked, before Vaughn cocked his head over at the diving boards. "See, when you say it like that and you look at me like that, I still think you're talking about us." He laughed, before taking a long sip from the cocktail he'd whipped up which was more alcohol than anything else. "When have we ever half assed?"

Vaughn was hardly the sharpest tool in the shed and then double it with alcohol added to the mix he didn't quite understand what Walt was joking about to begin with, even if he laughed along with him politely. He covered his face with his hands, pretending to be shy because there was no way any child of Chuck and Two-Bit's was anything but an extrovert. It had taken a minute but he finally got Walt's initial joke, peeking out from behind his hands and huffing as if he were offended. "Come on, it'd be better than bringing a newbie into the circle. It's so boring trying to catch them up on the lore like, hello. Get educated."