No, it was true. Lancelot has been good to him, there's no arguing that. He's gone above and beyond the requirements of any normal friend. But Faolan doesn't want a friend in Lancelot. And that's the true crux of the matter.

He shakes his head again at the other man's insistence, and the world swims around him slightly. "I know I am!" he admits to the other man, reaching out to take hold of him to catch his balance -- he is right there after all. "Can't you see? I don't want to! That's what I've been saying! But you've never even batted an eyelash! And you're just going to sit me down and brush this all off again. I know you. Tomorrow you'll forgive me for this too. 'You had too much to drink, Faolan, you weren't thinking straight.' That's how it works. That's how things are. Even now...!"

He looks up at the other man, frowning as he hazily studies his face. "I don't want to be tidied away, Lancelot! I want--..." But how to make the other man understand, when his words are obviously getting away from him. Faolan supposes there's only one way.

And so unsteady though he may be, Faolan tugs Lancelot closer and kisses him.