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?"
The restaurant treats them better than the bar had. Jesus eats light, orders another drink, taking to heart the idea that he's safe to just be drunk for once. He doesn't crawl into Drake's lap.
That comes later, when they go to a bar with a live band and he's had another drink. His speech is just the tiniest bit slurred by now. Jesus is always affectionate but it reaches new levels the more he drinks, has him nuzzling Drake and leaning on him and, yes, finally just straddling him so he can kiss him properly while the band plays.
Drake keeps track of how much they're drinking, moderating his own intake a little more strictly than he normally might just to be certain he doesn't wind up actually drunk himself. By the time they settle on a low couch in the bar with live music, Jesus is six deep while Drake's still on his third, only gently buzzed since he had a water at the last place.
That's the point of all this, though. When he said he was down for a night out where Jesus could get as wasted as he liked but still feel safe? He meant it. Drake isn't going to let anything happen to him, and while his designation and bulk would probably be enough to keep them from being hassled, he's not taking chances. Not when Jesus is trusting him like this.
He doesn't object to the other man climbing into his lap, blocking out the already dim bar lighting and his view of the stage. Just kisses back, hands skimming up Jesus' sides in a playful caress before wrapping both arms around him. Unsurprisingly, Jesus has been an adorable drunk. Flushed and enthusiastic but not clumsy just yet? Drake kisses him back and then looks up at him with a soft, fond smile.
"No, but it's cute when you've teased me about it," Drake tells him, reaching up to cup a hand to Jesus' flushed cheek. His lips quirk up in amusement at the question. "Who's my favorite... in the band? Dunno. I've hardly taken my eyes off you all night."
It's not quite true. He's scoped out the crowd at every venue they've wandered into, but once they settle... yeah. Drake hasn't actually spared the band a second look, and hasn't felt the weight of anyone's gaze on them to need to be on guard.
"No? The drummer's got hair longer than mine. It looks good on him." He reaches up and takes his hair out of its bun. "I really like you, Drake. Since the first time I met you."
There's some curiosity in Drake's tone, but he doesn't try to peer around Jesus in his lap to see the guy in question. He's much more interested in the way that Jesus' hair falls around his face when he tugs it free of its bun. And what he says next, leaning close to be heard over the music.
"I liked you right away, too," he tells Jesus, letting his fingers slip back into the now-loose curtain of the other man's hair. Giving an affectionate little scalp scritch with his nails as he strokes through it. "You remember how I told you I just knew we'd work? And people don't usually get that?"
"When I first got here I thought, there was no way I'd ever feel safe with a Dom. Not one I was signed with. And I wanted to use that. But then I met you," a wry smile. "I just don't want to hurt you. Or get you hurt."
He's said all this before but under the influence of some very strong drinks it feels profoundly important to say it again.
"But when I started thinking about contracting with you I just wanted it. I wanted someone I could trust. Someone I could have fun with."
Drake listens and nods along, expression fond. These are things Jesus has said before, but still really comforting to hear... even if his own tipsy mind is wandering more to questions like whether or not Jesus has to fuck himself for taking his own hair down because that's the rule.
He's not feeling quite drunk or playful enough to direct the conversation there, but maybe in time. For now he just smiles warmly, his eyes hopeful.
"Are you? Having fun. I know it hasn't all been easy."
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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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That comes later, when they go to a bar with a live band and he's had another drink. His speech is just the tiniest bit slurred by now. Jesus is always affectionate but it reaches new levels the more he drinks, has him nuzzling Drake and leaning on him and, yes, finally just straddling him so he can kiss him properly while the band plays.
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That's the point of all this, though. When he said he was down for a night out where Jesus could get as wasted as he liked but still feel safe? He meant it. Drake isn't going to let anything happen to him, and while his designation and bulk would probably be enough to keep them from being hassled, he's not taking chances. Not when Jesus is trusting him like this.
He doesn't object to the other man climbing into his lap, blocking out the already dim bar lighting and his view of the stage. Just kisses back, hands skimming up Jesus' sides in a playful caress before wrapping both arms around him. Unsurprisingly, Jesus has been an adorable drunk. Flushed and enthusiastic but not clumsy just yet? Drake kisses him back and then looks up at him with a soft, fond smile.
"How are you feeling, babe?"
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Because he should have if he hasn't.
"I like this band." He can barely make out the lyrics, the sound quality isn't great, but he likes the atmosphere. "Who's your favorite?"
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It's not quite true. He's scoped out the crowd at every venue they've wandered into, but once they settle... yeah. Drake hasn't actually spared the band a second look, and hasn't felt the weight of anyone's gaze on them to need to be on guard.
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There's some curiosity in Drake's tone, but he doesn't try to peer around Jesus in his lap to see the guy in question. He's much more interested in the way that Jesus' hair falls around his face when he tugs it free of its bun. And what he says next, leaning close to be heard over the music.
"I liked you right away, too," he tells Jesus, letting his fingers slip back into the now-loose curtain of the other man's hair. Giving an affectionate little scalp scritch with his nails as he strokes through it. "You remember how I told you I just knew we'd work? And people don't usually get that?"
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He's said all this before but under the influence of some very strong drinks it feels profoundly important to say it again.
"But when I started thinking about contracting with you I just wanted it. I wanted someone I could trust. Someone I could have fun with."
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He's not feeling quite drunk or playful enough to direct the conversation there, but maybe in time. For now he just smiles warmly, his eyes hopeful.
"Are you? Having fun. I know it hasn't all been easy."
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