Chapter Text
Soap is rearranging items on a shelf when his phone rings. He looks around for a quick second, seeing most aisles are empty, before waving at König and pointing at his phone. His coworker gives him a thumbs-up, and he walks into the back room.
“This can’t wait till I’m home? My shift’s almost over.” He says, in lieu of a greeting.
“It cannot,” Gaz says.
“Well, go on then.”
“Roach and I were talking,” Gaz started, and Soap knew he was in for it. “We were thinking it’s weird that we don’t have a singer.”
‘We’ referred to their simple band that only existed every other day of the week.
“Why would we need a singer?” He asks, confused.
“Why not?”
“That didn’t answer my question.” Soap peeks at the clock. They should start closing up soon. “It’s not like we’re going big or anything.”
“We could be if we had a singer.”
“Right, and how would you reckon we find this singer?”
“An ad?”
Soap snorts, hearing König move around in the other room.
“I have to go.”
“Wait- Soap!-” Gaz says as he hangs up.
He shakes his head, checking the clock again before leaving.
“All good, yes?” His coworker asks as he reappears.
“Just my roommate,” Soap replies.
He walked over to the window, turning off the open sign as they started cleaning up.
A singer.
It wasn’t like they needed one. Plus, they weren’t doing bad. They all had jobs, and the tips they got at the bar were pretty nice. Military bars apparently tip well. He always left a hell of a tip when he was on duty.
Eventually, he was walking home in the rain. He had been tricked, as it was perfectly sunny when he woke up, so he hadn’t brought his jacket this morning. Speak of the devil. His keys must also be in his jacket.
He knocked on the door, waiting for Gaz to let him in. He knocked again, louder this time. No response.
:To: Gaz
Wake up asshole
:From: Gaz
I’m not sleeping
Were at the bar
:To: Gaz
I dont have my keys
:From: Gaz
Then come join us
:To: Gaz
Its raining
:From: Gaz
🤷🏾
:To: Gaz
🖕
:From: Gaz
❤️
He sat on the porch for a moment, delaying the inevitability of another walk in the rain. He was gonna show up at the bar looking like a drowned cat. Ah shit. Hopefully, Princess got fed before Gaz left, otherwise they’re both gonna get yelled at when they get back.
He jogs, unsure if that will make him more or less wet as he travels. He watched a video about it a long time back, but now he couldn’t be bothered to remember.
Five minutes later, he arrives at his destination, fucking soaked. Maybe Price could lend him a towel. He shakes himself off like a dog, trying to at least get his hair dry. As he walks in, he immediately spots Gaz and Roach sitting at their usual table.
He plops down on the bench next to Gaz, who turns to him, trying, and failing, to hide his laugh.
“What happened, mate? Looks like you went for a run in the rain.”
“And whose fault is that?” Soap punches him in the shoulder.
“‘M not the one who forgot my keys,” Gaz says, punching him back.
‘Aren’t your meds supposed to be helping?’ Roach signs from across the table.
“Aye, well,” Soap rubs the back of his neck. “They can’t help too much if you forget to take them.”
“You’re hopeless, mate,” Gaz says.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m gonna get a drink.”
He walks up to the bar, noting Simon was here today. Weird. He normally doesn’t work this late. The man in question looks over at him from where he was serving someone else, eyes going wide. He looks him up and down, and Soap resists the urge to roll his eyes. Yes, he knows he looks especially ratty right now. Simon walks over to him, giving a questioning tilt of his head.
“Aye, I know. Is Price in today?” Soap says, exasperated.
Simon just nods and points upstairs, referring to Price’s flat above the bar.
“Thanks, mate,” Soap says before walking off.
He probably could’ve gone in even if Price wasn’t there, since he knew where the spare key was, but he does have some sense of decency.
“Oy! Captain, you in there?” He asked, knocking on the door.
It opened, and Price looked him over.
“Jesus, Soap. What happened?”
“Left my keys in the flat and Gaz made me come here. I needta borrow a towel, if ya could.”
“Sure,” Price said, stepping back to let him in. “You know where they are.”
~
Simon watched Soap go upstairs.
Holy shit.
Sure, he had seen the man a bit sweaty before, but a fully soaked white t-shirt? He must have saved up some good karma. Not like his shirts weren’t tight enough already.
He moved to the other side of the bar, picking up the money someone had left. Soap came back down the stairs, wearing a different shirt, significantly less wet. He didn’t want him to be uncomfortable, but what was a bit of discomfort if Simon got to see him look like that all night?
Soap appeared in front of him.
“Could I just get water tonight?”
“Course,” He said, pulling out a glass and some ice before filling it and handing it over.
“Thanks.”
He sighed, leaning forward, watching as he walked away.
It was midnight on a Monday, so there was practically no one here other than Soap and his friends, and a few alcoholics that Price was too kind to kick out. He had time for a cigarette.
The cold from the back alley was inviting, the chill seeping through his clothes as he leaned against the brick wall.
His lighter clicked as he held a hand up to block the wind. At least the rain had let up enough to keep the flame.
He had only known Soap a few weeks since he started working here, but the man was attractive, and seemingly a pretty good guy. His little crush had gotten obvious enough that Price was giving him a look every time he caught him staring. Even Gaz, Soap’s friend, the bass player, would send him a raised eyebrow whenever they talked for more than a second. The only one who didn’t know was Soap himself.
Or maybe he did know and was trying to let him down easy.
Hell, Simon didn’t even know if he was gay.
Is it silly? To walk into your place of work every day, hoping to see one specific person?
Yes, he thinks bitterly.
Quite possibly the silliest thing he’s ever done.
Maybe tomorrow he could forget about it. Never mind. Tomorrow was Tuesday, so they’d be playing. Well, at least he’ll get another chance to see him on stage. Not like he doesn’t see him multiple times every week.
He dropped his cigarette butt on the ground and stamped it out, knowing he’d have to clean it up later tonight anyway.
When he went back in, Soap and his friends were gone, leaving only money and glasses on their table. He sighed. The fuckers knew Price didn’t let people pay for water.