"I do stupid things," he admits with a laugh. "I climb things, I try to show off if there's a guy around I like. So you'll have to watch me. Sorry, babe."
"So I've just gotta come up with some kind of incentive to keep you on the ground with me? Even drunk I'm not sure I could keep up with you climbing." It's like Jesus doesn't even have to look for handholds, honestly. The smaller man is bafflingly fast. But on a more serious note... "I owe you way more than one night of lost impulse control. Get as blasted as you want."
He looks up at him, reaches up, touching Drake's jaw to turn his head down to look at Jesus. "You don't owe me anything." His mouth twitches into a smile. "But I haven't been really drunk in a very long time, so I'm taking you up on that anyway."
Maybe not officially, as in it's not a debt that Jesus would ever hold him to and would be kind of an asshole if he did... but Drake does owe him. Whether there's an accounting of it or not. He doesn't agree or argue, just smiles back when Jesus turns his head.
"I'd keep an eye on you no matter what," he assures Jesus warmly, tugging him in tighter for a moment to kiss his forehead. "Hold your hair back and everything."
"Huh. Cool." They can pause on the corner to kiss, Drake bringing up his other hand to brush his thumb over Jesus' lips when they break apart. "Probably scotch, not that I have it often. Why?"
"Just getting ideas for what I'm going to order." He takes Drake's hand and leads him across the street when the light changes, and into a little hole in the wall bar.
A potentially very interesting explanation, but Drake figures he'll find out soon enough if his suspicion is right. For now he just lets Jesus lead him into the bar, which is actually pretty nice on the inside. Almost cozy? Like they were going for 'intimate' with such a small place rather than a dive that packs people in, but that makes sense for the Up. The lights are dim and the music isn't too loud that they couldn't hear each other over it and the low murmur of conversation, if they were sitting close. Which the seating arrangements seem to encourage.
"This the right vibe?" he asks Jesus, because he likes it but this isn't just his night out.
He forgets sometimes how much nicer things are in the Up. Marked is his favorite bar in the Down, and Vrenille does an amazing job keeping it clean and trendy, but it's a very different feel to this place.
"I like it," he decides, even with the looks he's getting from the bartender. He tries to order--and he starts with a scotch--but the bartender gives him a cold shoulder so he looks up at Drake. "I guess they only talk to Doms."
Drake watches the exchange -- or lack thereof -- as a large, silent presence at Jesus' side. And when the he glances up to convey that he's being ignored, Drake sets his hand on Jesus' shoulder and gives the smaller man his full attention. Because his is the opinion that matters here, sub or not.
"Seems like. We don't have to stay. Plenty of other bars around."
This guy's being unnecessarily strict. Jesus is contracted, is with his Dom, is using his card. There's no law being broken to let him order for them, and ignoring his existence is just rude.
He thinks about it, but they're here. "Nah. I'm thirsty, it's fine," he decides. "I'll just trust you with my orders. Keep me drinking and it's a good night."
Alright. Drake nods towards the seating, indicating that Jesus should go pick a booth for them while he watches the bartender.
"You heard him. One double, neat. The other a soda highball." He waits until Jesus has stepped away and the bartender is setting glasses out to pour their drinks before leaning in across the bar with a warning. If anything winds up slipped to them, or this guy makes his sub feel unwelcome again, he's got no problem making an attitude adjustment. It's an insult to him too, isn't it?
Even if he doesn't buy into this shit, Drake has no problem playing protective Dom at this point. And he's easily got several inches and at least 30 pounds on the bartender, who manages a stiff 'yes sir' as he nudges their drinks forward and takes Drake's card to start a tab.
He has no idea if Jesus caught any of that and doesn't really mind either way, but his expression is back to warm and pleasant when he heads over to join the other man in a little curved booth.
Jesus did notice and he is observing. He takes his drink and grins. "It's funny. I'm okay turning the other cheek but turns out I like seeing you threaten people for me."
That answers that. Drake grins back and settles in at Jesus' side, draping his arm along the back of the seat behind the other man. Mostly it's just comfortable, but if everybody else thinks it looks possessive... well. It doesn't hurt, right now. The two of them know the truth and none of Jesus' friends are around to be upset over the show -- only strangers Drake wants to convince they're good little citizens.
"Threaten? You mean that friendly suggestion I'd prefer he treat you like a person?" He huffs softly, lifting his own drink. "Better he knows before I'm drunk. It's less a threat and more like reminding a shitty driver to put on their seatbelt or they might fuck up and go flying through the windshield. Right?"
Still grinning, he taps his glass against Jesus' in a little toast. He'd rather not wind up punching anybody in the face, obviously, but sometimes a warning is preventative. A dog flashing teeth so you know if you keep doing what you're doing you'll get bitten.
"Very friendly," he smirks, and rewards Drake with a slow kiss to show his gratitude. Then he sips his drink and nods slightly. "They poured the good stuff. Or maybe my palate's off after so many years."
Either way he's enjoying himself.
"Tell me more about you. What's a hobby you've never had time to take up?"
As long as they've known each other, even when he was unhappy with Jesus himself, Drake has never turned down a kiss and tonight isn't the night he's about to start. He stays close as the other man takes a drink and comments on the alcohol.
"Might've. Lemme try it," he says nonchalantly, but when Jesus looks back to him after asking his question... Drake just kisses him again, tasting the whiskey on his lips and tongue rather than from his own glass. "Hmm."
Is he stalling for time? Maybe. Also he couldn't tell anything about the quality of the scotch from that, but it wasn't the point.
It's a kiss that leaves Jesus a little starry eyed, leaning against him. "We both do, only I keep filling up my time with home improvement projects. Have you ever wanted to take up gardening?"
The look in Jesus' eyes makes it a challenge to settle back and reach for his own drink, but Drake reminds himself that seduction isn't the goal tonight. So he does just that, taking a sip of his highball and finding that it is actually a really nice scotch. Go figure.
"Gardening? Never thought about it... I did have some planters back in Hadriel, though." Another drink, to hide how his expression wavers at the memory. "Just window boxes. Why?"
"It's what I'm going to start doing once the ground thaws." Out at Rosita's property once she's bought it. "It's satisfying, or it can be. I've never done it just for fun."
He leans over to steal a bit of Drake's drink, sliding him a wink as he does.
Drake allows that, bending the arm he's got draped over the back of the booth to pluck at Jesus' hair tie. Not pulling it free, just fiddling until a lock slips loose of the bun for him to play with.
"I can see that. I used to do a lot of that kinda work as a volunteer. Construction, mostly. Sometimes cleanup or hauling stuff around... food banks, donation drives, stuff like that." While Jesus has his glass, he curls his other arm up so that his bicep strains at the fabric of his shirt. "These aren't just for show."
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He's only half-joking.
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"I'd keep an eye on you no matter what," he assures Jesus warmly, tugging him in tighter for a moment to kiss his forehead. "Hold your hair back and everything."
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"You're gonna be up for that? I thought you were gonna get really drunk."
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"This the right vibe?" he asks Jesus, because he likes it but this isn't just his night out.
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"I like it," he decides, even with the looks he's getting from the bartender. He tries to order--and he starts with a scotch--but the bartender gives him a cold shoulder so he looks up at Drake. "I guess they only talk to Doms."
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"Seems like. We don't have to stay. Plenty of other bars around."
This guy's being unnecessarily strict. Jesus is contracted, is with his Dom, is using his card. There's no law being broken to let him order for them, and ignoring his existence is just rude.
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"You heard him. One double, neat. The other a soda highball." He waits until Jesus has stepped away and the bartender is setting glasses out to pour their drinks before leaning in across the bar with a warning. If anything winds up slipped to them, or this guy makes his sub feel unwelcome again, he's got no problem making an attitude adjustment. It's an insult to him too, isn't it?
Even if he doesn't buy into this shit, Drake has no problem playing protective Dom at this point. And he's easily got several inches and at least 30 pounds on the bartender, who manages a stiff 'yes sir' as he nudges their drinks forward and takes Drake's card to start a tab.
He has no idea if Jesus caught any of that and doesn't really mind either way, but his expression is back to warm and pleasant when he heads over to join the other man in a little curved booth.
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"Threaten? You mean that friendly suggestion I'd prefer he treat you like a person?" He huffs softly, lifting his own drink. "Better he knows before I'm drunk. It's less a threat and more like reminding a shitty driver to put on their seatbelt or they might fuck up and go flying through the windshield. Right?"
Still grinning, he taps his glass against Jesus' in a little toast. He'd rather not wind up punching anybody in the face, obviously, but sometimes a warning is preventative. A dog flashing teeth so you know if you keep doing what you're doing you'll get bitten.
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Either way he's enjoying himself.
"Tell me more about you. What's a hobby you've never had time to take up?"
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"Might've. Lemme try it," he says nonchalantly, but when Jesus looks back to him after asking his question... Drake just kisses him again, tasting the whiskey on his lips and tongue rather than from his own glass. "Hmm."
Is he stalling for time? Maybe. Also he couldn't tell anything about the quality of the scotch from that, but it wasn't the point.
"Dunno. I've got time here, don't I?"
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"Gardening? Never thought about it... I did have some planters back in Hadriel, though." Another drink, to hide how his expression wavers at the memory. "Just window boxes. Why?"
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He leans over to steal a bit of Drake's drink, sliding him a wink as he does.
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"I can see that. I used to do a lot of that kinda work as a volunteer. Construction, mostly. Sometimes cleanup or hauling stuff around... food banks, donation drives, stuff like that." While Jesus has his glass, he curls his other arm up so that his bicep strains at the fabric of his shirt. "These aren't just for show."
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When he straightens he feels the bit of stray hair against his neck and gives Drake a grin. "Careful. Remember the rule."
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He drops his arm to reclaim the drink, twirling that lock of hair around his fingers.
"Mhmm. It's like 95% up still, don't get ahead of yourself. Where are you gardening around here, anyway?"
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He sips his drink. It's already nearly gone and he's not feeling it yet, nothing beyond a little warmth, a little heightened mischief.
"So...what, only 5% of you wants to fuck me tonight?"
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