Work Text:
The bar was hot and stuffy with the smell of stale cigarettes wafting outside the second he opened the door. Men of various ages sat in groups, some accompanied by women and they all enjoyed their drinks. It probably was a bad idea to step in the local watering hole on a cold friday night to relax, but he didn't have enough money to drink at a more classy place.
He scanned the loud people seated at tables with his towering height to spot a place to settle, but the only unoccupied seat he saw was at the bar.
Scowling, he made his way to the bar, dodging people as he held his precious guitar bag close. His guitar was his main way of living since he couldn't hold a decent job; it was fine for him, he couldn't imagine doing anything other than playing his guitar to get by.
He sat on the stool and waited for the bearded barkeeper to notice him. At that moment, he realized how much he stuck out; the place was filled with big, tough men with beards and middle aged women with too much makeup and too little clothing; but there he sat, a tall, skinny blond from Sweden with the slightest hint of eyeliner around his bright blue eyes and a neatly centered septum piercing in his nose.
When the bartender turned towards him, he opened his mouth to order a beer but was ignored. The bearded man turned his back to him once more, ignoring the blond's annoyed glare. He walked towards a younger man drying glasses with his back turned to the whole pub and patted his back, telling him something and motioning patrons with his free hand. Skwisgaar couldn't see the younger man's face, but he could notice him nodding obediently at the older man.
Once they were done, the older man got out of the bar with a bottle in his hand and joined some patrons, laughing. Skwisgaar focused on the younger man in front of the sink once more, getting slightly irritated by every passing minute; all he wanted was a glass of beer for god's sake! The brunet with his shoulder length hair pulled up in a ponytail dried his hands on his jeans and turned towards him.
Seeing his face surprised the Swede greatly, the boy in front of him couldn't be older than 18. He had a youthful face with a stubbly chin, a sad attempt to grow facial hair. He was thin but had wide shoulders, his toned arms promised a well-sculpted body under the In Flames t-shirt he was wearing. His pale blue eyes sparkled with childlike interest upon making contact with his bright blue ones; apparently Skwisgaar didn't fit the usual image of customers in the boy's head.
Soft features of his face became more stern as he made his way to Skwisgaar, the playful quirk of his lips turning into a thin line.
“How cans I help yous?”
Skwisgaar had to hold himself from laughing out loud, the boy's accent was almost the same as his; which meant that he could be from Scandinavia.
“You from somewhere around Scandinavia?”
He almost burst into laughter at the boy's shocked face, he really caught him off guard. As if on cue, a stray strand of hair that was hardly tucked into the rubber band fell between the boy's two wide open eyes, making him look even younger than he already was.
“Um, yes, I ams,” he said, clearing his throat and tucking the strand of hair on his nose behind his ear. “Again, how cans I help yous? There ams other cust-komers waitings.”
“Where are you from? And why are you talking in English? Talk in your native tongue, you can't speak English anyway.”
The boy's face fell at his last remark. “I'ms from Norway, and I speaks English because peoples here hates outs-skiders,” he sighed, his brows furrowing. “Now I needs to takes yours order or I'ms goingks to throws yous out.”
The helplessness of the boy was charming; he glaneced at his boss seated with his friends warily with worried eyes while talking. Skwisgaar smirked, his full lips forming a perfect curve.
“I want draught beer then.”
The boy visibly relaxed and grabbed a glass, filling it up from the tap. 'Miller lite'. Ugh. Stupid Americans and their shitty, piss-like beer. He actually had other, a lot better choices; but his wallet was too empty to enjoy a bottle of tasty, German-import beer.
He looked at the boy as he set the glass on a destroyed coaster, the playful smirk still on his lips.
“So, what's your name? And are you even old enough to work here?”
The young bartender visibly paled at the question. “I'ms Toki and...” he swallowed before continuing, “I'm18soI'mallowedtoworkhereasthehelperoftheowner.”
“Whats the fucks did yous says?” asked Skwisgaar, his confusion clearly visible on his expressive face.
The boy sighed and leaned close to the Swede, his words coming out as a mere whisper.
“I'ms Toki and I'ms 18 so I cans work here, as longs as I don'ts drink.” he said, his breath tickling Skwisgaar's ear.
Toki drew back as soon as his words came to an end.
“Now I'lls haves to takes cares of other cust-komers. Calls me if you needs somethings.” he said with a sheepish smile on his lips and the faintest blush on his round cheeks. He stared at the blond a while longer before lowering his pale eyes to the ground and turning away to serve an uglily inked man.
He watched the young figure retreat with the cold beer wetting his hands, it was a good opportunity to examine his appearance in detail and Skwisgaar had to admit; the boy had a real nice ass, the skinny jeans he was wearing weren't helping too.
It was hard to avert his eyes from the wonderfully sculpted back of the boy but it had to be done; Toki was an innocent boy and Skwisgaar was far too old and tainted for him. Unceremoniously, he turned his wandering gaze to one of the middle aged women sitting with patrons. Her thickly painted blue eyes were on him, unsurprisingly. He was an attractive man, none could resist his charms and he could easily lure people of any sex to his bed, when they were mutually interested of course.
This one was no different, she sipped her colorful alcoholic drink, exaggeratingly sucking in her cheeks and puckering her bright red lips, her eyes still on him under long eyelashes. He flicked his long mane of blonde hair and chugged the rest of his beer, looking unnecessarily glorious doing so. Slamming the glass on the countertop he stood up and motioned the single door at the very back of the bar that led to a single toilet and started walking towards the said little room.
Turning his head back, he saw the middle aged woman getting up from the table and strutting towards him with slightly parted lips, her tight miniskirt riding up with every step she took.
Being the gentleman he is, Skwisgaar opened the door and waited for her to go inside, his eyes never leaving her plump red lips that would soon be wrapped around his cock.
As soon as they both entered the small bathroom that reeked of piss, he was pushed roughly into the door and kissed roughly with long manicured nails raking his chest while ridding him of his shirt. He tangled his long fingers in his partner's hair as she moved downward, those plump lips never leaving his skin. The Swede growled in approval when his hard member was freed from tight jeans, unaware of the pair of icy blue eyes that witnessed him enter the bathroom with a much older woman. He didn't know both their sounds of pleasure were very much heard by a pair of pierced ears either.
He zipped his jeans when his wobbling knees stilled and his racing heart calmed; he desperately needed some fresh air.
Stepping outside the bathroom without looking back at the woman who tried to clean her smeared lipstick, his blue eyes searched for his guitar; thankfully, it still was near the stool he sat on earlier. Sighing in relief, he picked up his guitar, dropped a bill on the counter and stormed out of the backdoor of the pub.
He leant against the worn wooden door and took deep, shallow breaths. Skwisgaar hated stuffy, crowded places; getting a blowjob from a middle-aged woman in a smelly and cramped restroom hadn't been a good idea. He felt nauseatingly claustrophobic when he came inside the warm mouth of the warm lady that simply sought acceptance and affection in her own way; two things that he didn't even try giving her for a brief moment.
The pang of guilt he was feeling with his eyes closed was interrupted with a muffled cough. Slowly, he opened his eyes and turned his head to the source of the noise.
It was Toki; he sat on a beat-up van with a neatly rolled joint in between his lips. He too had been looking at Skwisgaar so their eyes met when the blond turned his head towards the brunet.
Neither of the Scandinavians uttered a word, all they did was to stare each other in silence. Skwisgaar stood, leaning against the beaten door with excellent posture while Toki sat slouched on the van with his long hair falling freely on his shoulders.
Toki, unsurprisingly, was the one to break eye contact. He folded his hands on his lap and stared at them, the faint blush on his still chubby cheeks was visible to Skwisgaar even in dim lightning and hair curtaining his face.
“You're going to burn yourself if you don't flick off the ash.”
Startled by the suddenly broken silence, the brunet snapped his head up to look at the Swede; as expected, gathered ash on the tip fell on his hand with the sudden movement.
“Fucks!” hissed the Norwegian before taking the joint in his other hand to lick the stinging patch of skin.
“Don't be such a crybaby, there's no way it hurt that much,” said Skwisgaar, amusement evident in his voice. He approached the young bartender who was still nursing his hand. “Let me help you with that.” he added and took the younger man's hand in his, much to Toki's bewilderment.
“Does it hurt here?” asked the blond, caressing the small, irritated spot with his thumb. Toki nodded, his eyes wide and mouth tightly shut. Without any warning, Skwisgaar latched his full lips on the red spot, as if to kiss it better.
When he looked up, he saw an even paler Toki looking down at him with a combination of fear and fascination in his blue eyes.
“Whats ams yous doing?” he asked, his voice weak and wavering.
Skwisgaar fully stood up and removed his lips from the brunet's hand just to tangle his long fingers with Toki's shorter ones.
“I just wanted to make sure you're ok,” he said and smirked before adding “Because you know, babies always want to be kissed better.”
With that, he pulled the brunet and they met for a kiss. Skwisgaar closed his eyes, humming in approval; however, Toki's blue eyes were still wide open. It took him a moment to fully come to his senses but when he did, he roughly pushed the Swede away.
“You just kissed an old hag with that mouth, get the fuck away from me!” he screamed, making noises and gestures of disgust.
Skwisgaar's stunned expression turned into a more smug one and crossing his lanky arms he replied the Norwegian. “Oh, so if I brush my teeth and wash my mouth I can kiss you as much as I want?”
The cheery smile that appeared on the younger man's face after his question warmed Skwisgaar's insides. Yet another blush was creeping up to the brunet's cheeks.
Toki hopped down from the van and put out the almost finished joint by stepping on it. Skwisgaar watched the person that radiated youth with fondness.
Said person stood in front of the Swede and softly kissed his left cheek, standing on his tiptoes to cover the height difference.
“I'll get back to work now, but I'll see you after you wash your mouth maybe?”
Skwisgaar snorted and smiled at the shorter man; unlike all his other smiles, this was a warm and genuine one.
“Pfft, sure, why not?”
Hearing the Swede's reply, Toki giggled and made his way to the door, tying his long hair on the way.
Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to visit the cheapest local bar on a crowded friday night after all.
And maybe, he could simply be friends with this sweet and young bartender boy.
Just maybe.