Of all the things that Tommy expects (and he doesn't expect a whole lot; it's much less effort to just roll with the punches than build up expectations), he does not expect David's hands to grip his hips and pull him back into the miniscule, sardine-space of the dance floor.
What had he been hoping would happen when he started shouting over the music to that guy behind him about David, anyway? If asked under pressure, he might say that he hoped to be David's wingman. Really, there must have been some glimmer of an idea that if this guy ended up propositioning one of them, he'd proposition both of them, and then Tommy could get around this anxiety of his attraction to David via a precarious threesome?
Really Really, it was neither of those things. It's just that he can't stop telling people how great David is, because he's got a stupid crush that he refuses to fess up to, even to himself, and Tommy Shepherd is nothing if not a smooth avoider of uncomfortable feelings. But the thing is, he's having a fun tonight, and he's had just enough shots to (for the time being) care a little bit less about his own avoidant attachment style. So when David pulls him closer and tells the innocent Parisian flirt off in perfect French, it sets off something something wild in his stomach. Attraction? Arousal? Excitement? Delight? Definitely a combination of the four, thanks. So he just raises his eyebrows at the guy behind him with a shrug, a voiceless "guess not, buddy", before turning his attention completely back to David.
He doesn't remove David's hands from his hips or pull away. In fact, he scoots even closer in the sardine-can of the nightclub dance-floor, leaning in to David's ear to shout-speak into it over the French techno.
"Alright, alright, you've got me, I'm all yours. Of course you speak French, were you just going to let me go on like that all night?"
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What had he been hoping would happen when he started shouting over the music to that guy behind him about David, anyway? If asked under pressure, he might say that he hoped to be David's wingman. Really, there must have been some glimmer of an idea that if this guy ended up propositioning one of them, he'd proposition both of them, and then Tommy could get around this anxiety of his attraction to David via a precarious threesome?
Really Really, it was neither of those things. It's just that he can't stop telling people how great David is, because he's got a stupid crush that he refuses to fess up to, even to himself, and Tommy Shepherd is nothing if not a smooth avoider of uncomfortable feelings. But the thing is, he's having a fun tonight, and he's had just enough shots to (for the time being) care a little bit less about his own avoidant attachment style. So when David pulls him closer and tells the innocent Parisian flirt off in perfect French, it sets off something something wild in his stomach. Attraction? Arousal? Excitement? Delight? Definitely a combination of the four, thanks. So he just raises his eyebrows at the guy behind him with a shrug, a voiceless "guess not, buddy", before turning his attention completely back to David.
He doesn't remove David's hands from his hips or pull away. In fact, he scoots even closer in the sardine-can of the nightclub dance-floor, leaning in to David's ear to shout-speak into it over the French techno.
"Alright, alright, you've got me, I'm all yours. Of course you speak French, were you just going to let me go on like that all night?"