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."
"Well if you want my help or company, and she's cool with it..." Drake trails off, figuring he doesn't need to say he'll be there and not wanting to put any pressure on Jesus by making it sound like he really wants to join in. Not when he's pretty sure Rosita's on the fence about him even knowing where it is. "The night's young, babe. I'm pacing myself."
"She will be." She might be on the fence but Jesus is confident he can convince her. "She'll want all the muscle we can get and you've got plenty to spare."
His glass is empty now so he slides away with a quick kiss. "Let's see if you made an impact."
The bartender is reluctant still but after looking at Drake he serves Jesus a fresh glass.
"The man I worked for when I first came to the Hilltop hoarded liquor," he says, settling back in beside Drake. "And then I destroyed the last crate of good scotch I ever saw."
"And I've got plumbing and electric experience," Drake comments with a grin, knowing that he can make himself useful. He always can. Apparently has even now, since when Jesus slips away to get a refill the bartender glances his way... Drake quirks an eyebrow expectantly. And that's all it takes.
His arm slips right back around Jesus' shoulders when he returns, feeling oddly satisfied at the effectiveness of his own intimidation skills.
"Yeah the Saviors came and took it." He's told Drake a little about the Saviors, how they'd been at war. "I snuck on board their truck to get some recon and ruined the crate while I was there."
Jesus is not usually a petty person but he had been that day and it had felt good.
"I understand a little bit of spite destruction, with those guys. Not like you wrecked food or medicine. Guess it just wasn't packed securely enough," Drake muses softly, taking another drink and letting that lock of Jesus' hair slide between his fingers. "How's it hitting you now?"
"I'm down. Wherever you wanna go. Just bar food, or something decent?" He ducks his head to murmur into Jesus' ear. "I didn't miss that you dressed up... and you promised to let me show you off."
"Take me somewhere nice, as long as they won't care if I crawl onto your lap if you get me sloppy drunk," he teases, and turns his head to kiss Drake. "You wanna show me off?"
"So literally anywhere?" Drake jokes, kissing back. But he does have a place in mind, and he nods at the question when they break apart. "As much as I'm capable of showing off at all, yeah."
"Yeah I don't know what that's supposed to look like," showing off a date. "But this is probably a good start."
Hanging on each other, kissing, sharing drinks. He finishes his off. "There's a place I saw a few nights ago about two blocks from here. Smelled good."
"It looks like whatever we're comfortable with, yeah?" He presses another kiss to the side of Jesus' head and reaches to finish the rest of his drink, ready to go whenever the other man is. "You wanna lead the way?"
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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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His glass is empty now so he slides away with a quick kiss. "Let's see if you made an impact."
The bartender is reluctant still but after looking at Drake he serves Jesus a fresh glass.
"The man I worked for when I first came to the Hilltop hoarded liquor," he says, settling back in beside Drake. "And then I destroyed the last crate of good scotch I ever saw."
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His arm slips right back around Jesus' shoulders when he returns, feeling oddly satisfied at the effectiveness of his own intimidation skills.
"Wait, like on purpose?"
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Jesus is not usually a petty person but he had been that day and it had felt good.
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Hanging on each other, kissing, sharing drinks. He finishes his off. "There's a place I saw a few nights ago about two blocks from here. Smelled good."
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