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Entry tags:
I wanna cut to the feeling
Who: Tommy Shepherd and David Alleyne
What: The first time they kiss, it's around midnight in a paris nightclub.
Rating: NC-17 possibly, or R. We shall see.
Sneaking into nightclubs and crowded bars is easy when you're a speedster. Tommy's been doing it since he was 14. It's a lot harder to do with a plus one. It's not impossible, they've done it plenty of times in the last few months of being close, but sometimes it's a Tuesday, in the middle of the day, and you've somehow managed to convince your very studious and very busy best friend to go out dancing, and that was not something to waste.
It's how Tommy ended up, after a brief interlude to change (and asking David to trust him with his most charming smile) bridal carrying David across the Atlantic to where it wasn't the middle of the day, and the Parisian party was just getting started.
Parisians are funny. They're flirty, they're handsy, they love an American accent and then love to shit talk you in French when they think you can't understand what they're saying. To be fair Tommy couldn't the first few times, but he's quick study, and it helped him determine who was worth hanging with and who wasn't. Another thing about Parisians is that they always assume you and whomever you're with are a couple, while also simultaneously continuing to flirt like that's no obstacle.
It's weird at first, when he's showing off by ordering them both drinks in heavily accented but pretty good French, when the bartender, and another patron both just assume David and him are together. It sets his stomach into knots, so he downs his double shot before he even hands David his drink. He doesn't need to drink to want to dance, so he pulls David onto the dance floor like he always does. He's fallen into a pattern, and he doesn't even realize it: drink, dance with some girls, encourage David to dance with anyone and not just by himself, more drinks, maybe dance with a guy too, more drinks, get progressively closer until it's just the two of them dancing, or hanging out by the bar to take a breather, just enjoying each other's company and talking.
It takes a lot to get Tommy drunk, and it doesn't last for long, but this time it's a pretty good buzz. He's three hours, five goldshlaggers and three tequilas in. He's a little sloppy. Sloppy enough to lean into David and really, really just dance with him, close together in the sardine can of a night club, without a care in the world except the base and the totally meaningless ear to mouth chatter between them. Sloppy enough to lean back against some guy who just crowded him and grind, all while talking up David right in front of him like David's the person this french rando wants to hook up with. He's having a great time.
What: The first time they kiss, it's around midnight in a paris nightclub.
Rating: NC-17 possibly, or R. We shall see.
Sneaking into nightclubs and crowded bars is easy when you're a speedster. Tommy's been doing it since he was 14. It's a lot harder to do with a plus one. It's not impossible, they've done it plenty of times in the last few months of being close, but sometimes it's a Tuesday, in the middle of the day, and you've somehow managed to convince your very studious and very busy best friend to go out dancing, and that was not something to waste.
It's how Tommy ended up, after a brief interlude to change (and asking David to trust him with his most charming smile) bridal carrying David across the Atlantic to where it wasn't the middle of the day, and the Parisian party was just getting started.
Parisians are funny. They're flirty, they're handsy, they love an American accent and then love to shit talk you in French when they think you can't understand what they're saying. To be fair Tommy couldn't the first few times, but he's quick study, and it helped him determine who was worth hanging with and who wasn't. Another thing about Parisians is that they always assume you and whomever you're with are a couple, while also simultaneously continuing to flirt like that's no obstacle.
It's weird at first, when he's showing off by ordering them both drinks in heavily accented but pretty good French, when the bartender, and another patron both just assume David and him are together. It sets his stomach into knots, so he downs his double shot before he even hands David his drink. He doesn't need to drink to want to dance, so he pulls David onto the dance floor like he always does. He's fallen into a pattern, and he doesn't even realize it: drink, dance with some girls, encourage David to dance with anyone and not just by himself, more drinks, maybe dance with a guy too, more drinks, get progressively closer until it's just the two of them dancing, or hanging out by the bar to take a breather, just enjoying each other's company and talking.
It takes a lot to get Tommy drunk, and it doesn't last for long, but this time it's a pretty good buzz. He's three hours, five goldshlaggers and three tequilas in. He's a little sloppy. Sloppy enough to lean into David and really, really just dance with him, close together in the sardine can of a night club, without a care in the world except the base and the totally meaningless ear to mouth chatter between them. Sloppy enough to lean back against some guy who just crowded him and grind, all while talking up David right in front of him like David's the person this french rando wants to hook up with. He's having a great time.
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If there was a way to be addicted to friendship, David had definitely found it. Found it in the way that Tommy makes him laugh, in the way the guy has pushed and pulled him out of his shell. Hell, when Tommy'd found out that David had lost his job over leaving to help Tommy the guy had even helped him search online for new work. Which had been well and good until his parents had found out about him losing his job, and his apartment, and his father got into twisting his arm about finally going to college and...
Well, the truth of the matter was that he needed a day off of being an overachiever as much as he wanted time with Tommy, so here he was. Smiling through Tommy's horrible French accent, casually and hopefully charmingly cutting off attempts to flirt with him by strangers, and mostly just watching. Tommy is just alive, electric, vital in a way that is so damn captivating that it gets David every last time.
There's just something about the speedster that is magnetic. And given David knows how he is about people, he knows just what it is.
So he sips his drinks (no way he wanted to get drunk), lets himself be pulled into friend dancing with Tommy, and then retreating from the dance floor when Tommy's occupied. Or at least finding a corner to enjoy the music and dancing alone. Because fuck, that flair of jealousy in his gut any time Tommy gets close to a girl (or a guy) is absolutely unbecoming of him. Which is not what he wants to do. He can't be that asshole. Not again.
But it's nice. The way the 'night' is going. The moments he gets where he's the only thing Tommy is paying attention to. It's almost like something, and maybe there's a buzz in his head going on, the edges of fuzzy warmth in his gut, but he likes to think he has it under control.
He does not have it under control. That much is obvious when his hands grip at Tommy's hips to pull him closer, to pull him just a bit further away from the french rando guy. Can't help the hint of sharpness to his eyes or the curl of his lips as he raises his voice to be heard over the music by the rando.
The first time David's spoken French in front of Tommy all night, because he'd been happy to keep to English. It's flawless, the accent sounds flawless enough for him to be mistaken for a Parisian as well, and his words are sweetly sharp too. Possessive without being possessive.
"So sorry, I know how much space is at a premium some nights. Forgive us for crowding you."
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