Chapter Text
“You look sad.”
Atlas hadn’t noticed the young man sitting at the barstool next to him until he spoke. The young man was pouting sympathetically at him, and Atlas got a sneaking suspicion that he was drunk. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to be rude.
“Not sad, exactly, just thinking,” Atlas clarified.
The young man laughed—practically giggled—showing white teeth and a charming smile. Atlas wondered how much he’d already had to drink. “This isn’t the best place for that, is it?”
He was right—the club was noisy and fairly crowded. In the warm light, couples danced to the jazzy tune being played by the band on the small stage. All around were people in good spirits; talking, laughing, flirting with one another. Perhaps that was precisely the reason Atlas had come here to think: it was so much easier to melt into a crowd than to remain alone. Rapture had felt so lonely lately. Regardless of that, the young man had torn Atlas from his reverie, and was looking at him with an unselfconscious, slightly dopey grin. “Maybe you’re right,” Atlas conceded.
“I am,” the young man asserted sagely, nodding his head. “What are you drinking?”
Atlas looked down at the dregs of dark liquid in the now-warm glass in front of him. “Whiskey. Or it was.”
The young man wrinkled his nose in distaste before turning his head away to catch the eye of the bartender. The young man held up two fingers, and the bartender nodded. “I’ve got something better for you. I made the recipe myself and it’s fantastic,” he boasted.
The stranger was amicable—at leas while tipsy—and Atlas couldn’t help but smile in response to him. “You come here often, then?” he asked. Immediately it felt like a dumb question, like an overused pickup line. Atlas hoped the young man wouldn’t think of it that way. Perhaps Atlas was just overthinking things—he was suddenly nervous.
“Yes,” the young man said, swaying a little as he nodded. “I like it here. There’s always a lot of people. Most places are so lonely.”
“I know what you mean,” Atlas agreed. Their drinks arrived, and the young man clinked his glass against Atlas’ before taking a drink. Atlas did the same, slightly more warily.
The drink was smooth, with none of the harsh burning sensation that a lot of Rapture’s cheaper liquors had. It tasted pleasantly of cherries. “This is good,” Atlas said appreciatively.
“I’m glad you think so. My name’s Jack, by the way,” he said, holding out his hand with a fluid motion for a shake.
“Atlas.” He shook Jack’s hand. “Did you come here by yourself, or are you…?” he asked, trailing off the end of the question. Again, he mentally kicked himself. That sounds creepy. Why do I keep saying the wrong thing?
“I’m with some friends over there,” Jack said. “I actually just came over here to get another drink, but…then I saw you.”
Was this man flirting with him? Atlas laughed shyly, hoping he wasn’t misinterpreting the situation. He probably didn’t mean it like that. Besides, he’s drunk. I’m sure he’ll be embarrassed about this in the morning, he thought. However, he couldn’t help being flattered. “And you thought you’d try to cheer up this sad old man?” he asked jokingly.
Jack smiled at that. “You’re not old. But you did look awfully depressed.”
“Jack, what’s keeping you?” A young woman approached the bar, evidently a friend of his. She put her arm around him, and Jack leaned into the touch, smiling up at her. Her gold dress glittered in the dim light, eye-catching.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Jack said, pouting at her playfully.
She absentmindedly carded her manicured nails through Jack’s sandy hair as she glanced at Atlas. “Who’s your friend?” she asked.
Jack took another sip of his drink. “Eva, this is Atlas. Atlas, Eva,” he said, gesturing nonspecifically as he made introductions.
“Hi,” the girl said politely, clearly not actually interested in Atlas. “Everybody’s wondering where you got to. Come back and join us. Bring your friend,” Eva suggested.
“I’m fine here. I’ll be back in a bit,” Jack said dismissively, throwing a smile at Atlas.
Eva pouted theatrically. “Fine, but we’re going to have fun without you,” she warned as she made her way through the scattering of tables back to a booth along the farther wall.
“Don’t you want to go sit with your friends?” Atlas asked when she was out of earshot. Surely they were a better choice than sitting with a strange older man.
Jack shook his head, rolling his eyes. “They’re all so…” he huffed, unable to find the words. “Besides, you seem interesting. Not to mention, I bought you a drink so now you owe me a dance,” he said with a mischievous grin.
Atlas laughed at that. “I don’t owe you anything,” he asserted. “I never asked you to buy me a drink, did I? Besides, I’m not finished with it yet,” he said, gently swirling the remaining liquid around in his short glass.
Jack laughed as well. “Funny how you claim to not have wanted the drink but still want to finish it,” he pointed out, leaning in closer to Atlas, swaying just a little as he did.
“Maybe I’m just trying to find an excuse,” Atlas suggested playfully.
That earned a melodramatic gasp from Jack. “You mean you don’t want to dance with me? I’m offended,” he said with an exaggerated frown.
“Go sit with your friends, then. I’m sure one of them would be willing to dance with you,” Atlas pointed out. Eva seemed especially keen on you, he wanted to add, but he restrained himself.
Jack wrinkled his nose in displeasure, then took another drink, leaning over the counter a little bit. “So. What do you do?” he asked Atlas.
“I work at the fisheries,” Atlas said simply. He tactfully left out the political rallies and charity groups he’d lately started organizing; not everyone would take kindly to that, he knew. “What about you? No, wait, let me guess,” he said quickly, sizing Jack up. The young man was well-dressed in clothes that looked fairly expensive. Atlas surely wasn’t as destitute as some, but it was clear by comparison that Jack was a member of Rapture’s elite. Jack just gave him a dopey smile and waited patiently. “Some sort of office job, probably. Something for the Council?”
Jack laughed, pushing himself away from the counter to sit upright. “No. You’re never going to guess it,” he said mysteriously.
That only made Atlas more determined. “Are ya…a teacher of some kind?” he asked, thinking of something as opposite as he could that would fit with Jack’s polished demeanor (or what he imagined would be polished if the young man were more sober).
Jack shook his head as he finished the last of his drink. “Strike two. Only one more guess,” he taunted.
“No, we never decided I only get three!” Atlas protested. Jack just gave him a teasing grin, and Alas furrowed his brow, finishing off his own drink as he thought. “Some kind of artist? You don’t work with Cohen, do you?” Atlas asked warily.
“No, of course not,” Jack protested as if he’d been insulted. Cohen’s notoriety had skyrocketed in the past few months. “That’s three. I’m afraid you lose,” Jack said, clapping Atlas on the shoulder as if to comfort him.
Atlas sighed, admitting defeat and trying to ignore the tingling feeling of his skin where Jack had touched him. “What is it that you do, then?”
“I work in maintenance,” Jack said matter-of-factly.
“Bullshit.” Atlas raised an eyebrow. Maintenance workers didn’t get paid enough to dress like that. And besides, the young man didn’t seem to fit Atlas’ perception of the burly, rough working men.
“It’s true, I swear,” Jack protested, laughing at Atlas’ disbelief. “Now, as punishment for your horrible guessing skills,” Jack continued, leaning in closer to Atlas with fluid, almost uncontrolled movement, “you’re gonna come dance with me. And you’ve finished your drink, so you can’t use that as an excuse,” Jack pointed out quickly. He stood, waiting for Atlas to follow.
Atlas felt himself blush, and his stomach fluttered. He had to admit, Jack was charming. He found himself attracted to the young man, but was nevertheless nervous to do anything about it. Maybe I need to drink more. Seems to have made him pretty forward, Atlas thought. “Alright, I suppose you’ve got me there,” he agreed. Jack took his hand—the young man’s skin felt cold against his own—and Atlas allowed himself to be led to the middle of the room, amongst the other couples swaying slowly to the crooning band. Jack draped his arms around Atlas’ shoulders, and Atlas hesitantly placed his own hands on Jack’s hips. Is he really flirting with me? Him? He could probably have anyone here, and he’s nearly half my age, probably—why would he be flirting with me?
“You’re a million miles away, aren’t you?”
Jack’s voice cut through Atlas’ reverie, and the man snapped back to the present, proving Jack right. They both smiled a little, and Atlas could see all the details of the young man’s face now that they were so close together. “Sorry. I’m just…not a good dancer,” Atlas confessed, a little bashful.
“It’s not about the dancing,” Jack said, tightening his embrace just a little with a grin—He’s always smiling…or is that just because he’s drunk?—“It’s about being close to somebody else.”
“And you want to be close to me?” Atlas asked.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Atlas could tell that Jack was laying the flirting on thick now, and there was no mistaking it. “I can think of a hundred reasons. The primary of which is that you are very drunk,” he reminded Jack gently, wondering if he should move away from the young man’s embrace. He knew he should be the responsible one and put a stop to this, but part of him undeniably enjoyed the closeness. And it’s just dancing, Atlas reasoned with himself. He won’t regret that too much in the morning, I expect.
“I’ve been drunker,” Jack said dismissively. There was silence between them for a while, just the music of the band, and the obvious feeling of their hands on each others’ bodies as they swayed in time with the other couples in the room. Jack was the first one to break the silence. “Now would be a good time for you to kiss me, you know.”
Atlas stammered out a nervous laugh at that. “I don’t think that would be the best idea,” he said. He felt the blush rising in his cheeks, and it only caused him to grow more embarrassed.
“Oi, Jack!”
The voice was a welcome intrusion, and Atlas and Jack both looked around for the source. A man in a well-tailored waistcoat and thick moustache approached them with unsteady steps, evidently one of Jack’s friends. Uncertainly, Atlas dropped the embrace and took a small step backwards.
“We’re all gonna head out. Come on. Unless you’d…rather stay,” the stranger said, giving Atlas a not-so-subtle glance over.
“I want to stay,” Jack said without any hesitation. “I’ll call you in the morning.”
“Okay,” the stranger said with a knowing grin. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He left, giving Atlas a wink and a strong pat on the back.
“Friend of yours?” Atlas said, following Jack’s lead and resuming their embrace. Somehow he felt more comfortable now, more appreciative of the way the other man’s arms felt around him. Jack just nodded. “You would really rather spend time with a complete stranger than with your friends?” Atlas asked.
“You’re not a complete stranger,” Jack protested. “I know a lot about you now.”
Atlas laughed. “We only met, what, an hour ago?”
“Yeah, but I’m very observant,” Jack said with mock seriousness. “For instance, I know that you work in the fisheries—”
“You didn’t observe that, I told you!”
“Nevertheless! And I know you’re Irish—don’t roll your eyes at me, why are you rolling your eyes?—and that you live alone…”
“How do you know I live alone?” Atlas asked, genuinely surprised for a moment.
“You don’t have a wedding ring on,” Jack pointed out in a sing-song voice. “And you were pretty quick to dance with a man you’d only just met.”
“Well maybe I have roommates,” Atlas pointed out.
Jack just shook his head, stumbling a little with the sudden movement. Atlas tightened his grip, steadying him. “You said that you were lonely. People with roommates don’t get lonely,” Jack said, evidently proud of himself for deducing it. “Am I right, or am I right?”
“I suppose you have a point,” Atlas acquiesced. “What else do you know about me?”
“I know that part of the reason you’re so lonely is because you never initiate anything,” Jack said bluntly. (Maybe it’s the alcohol that’s making him so bold. Is he going to get home alright?) Atlas looked a little taken aback at that, and stammered out an incoherent response. “See? That’s what I mean,” Jack said. “I’ve been doing all the work tonight,” he said, pouting dramatically. He wasn’t able to keep up the façade of being offended for long, and his face broke into a smile as he rested his head on Atlas’ shoulder. “You ought to be more confident. You’re a good-looking guy.”
Atlas smiled bashfully, feeling his heart skip a beat as he held Jack closer to him. “Thanks.”
They danced for a while longer, swaying gently to the slow music until the song finished. Somewhere a camera bulb flashed, but Atlas hardly noticed. He was preoccupied with the feeling of Jack’s hands around his neck, and the way the young man’s cologne smelled. “It’s getting late,” Atlas pointed out, uncertain of why he’d decided to say it—he found that he didn’t really want to be parted from the young man.
Jack nodded, pulling away from him. Atlas felt cold in the absence of his embrace. “I don’t want to go home,” he confessed with a smile.
“Why not?” Atlas asked.
“It’s lonely there and…I just don’t like it,” Jack mumbled, either from embarrassment or drunkenness. Atlas understood how he felt. His own apartment was awfully empty and dark, and the prospect of returning to it wasn’t enticing. “And I am a little…stumble-y,” Jack added with a giggle as the two made their way slowly from the dance floor.
Atlas put an arm out to steady him. “You could come to my place,” he suggested hesitantly. What if he takes it the wrong way? What if he thinks I’m taking advantage of him? What if he regrets it in the morning? “Just to sleep, mind. It’s fairly close, I mean, so you wouldn’t have to traipse through the city like this,” he added, blushing.
Jack beamed at him, taking his arm as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I would be honored,” he said teasingly. “Do you want to go now, or should we have one more drink?”
Atlas laughed, glad that Jack was taking it so well. That’s just the alcohol talking. He’ll wake up tomorrow horribly embarrassed. This is a mistake. “I think you’ve had enough.”
“You are probably right,” Jack allowed. They made their way to the door, Jack shuffling his feet a little and still clinging to Atlas’ arm. A few people gave them odd looks as they made their way down the now dimly-lit street, but Atlas tried to ignore them. They went along in silence for a while, until Jack began humming a tune, staring out the glass walls at the dark water. “Happy we’ll be, beyond the sea…” he sang quietly. “Y’know, I don’t understand why they play that song all the time. I mean, we know we’re underwater. No one’s forgotten that, so why is everything in this goddamn place underwater-themed?” he asked testily.
Atlas just shrugged. “It’s a nice song, at least. And maybe for some people, the novelty hasn’t worn off yet.”
“Yeah, well, I wish sometimes that people would stop being so obvious and predictable. Everyone wants to do the obvious thing, not the interesting thing,” Jack pointed out, his argument made passionate by the alcohol.
“Are you always this eloquent while drunk?” Atlas asked, amused.
Jack laughed, giving Atlas’ arm a squeeze. “I suppose that’s just how I was raised. Always ready to voice my distaste with society. And that’s what I don’t like about Eva and Mark and all them,” Jack continued, his brow furrowing. Atlas assumed he was speaking of his friends, and let him vent. “They all always just accept whatever’s given to them. They don’t think about things, they just agree because that’s easier.”
The young man scowled, and Atlas wasn’t sure how to respond. He hadn’t had many of these problems lately, as he found himself with few close friends. He was on good terms with a few folks from work, and went out with them once and a while, but nothing too intimate. Part of the reason Rapture felt so lonely, probably. “I think that happens to people no matter what. It’s safer, in a way. Like a way of coping.” God knows people have a hell of a lot to cope with down here, Atlas thought.
Jack made a sound of disgust as he rolled his eyes, but made no further response. The two walked on in companionable silence, Jack’s arm looped through Atlas’, leaning on him just a little as they walked. As they made their way through the dimly-lit corridor of glass and steel, Jack threw a glance over his shoulder. “Thought somebody was following us,” he muttered, tightening his grip on Atlas’ arm.
“I’ve had that feeling since I arrived here,” Atlas said dryly. “Come on. I have a feeling you need to sit down,” he added with a small chuckle. It was amusing to see someone so well-groomed stumbling so much. Jack laughed, and they walked arm-in-arm to Atlas’ apartment. They climbed the stairs—a slow endeavor, in Jack’s case. They made it up to Atlas’ door, and he dropped the younger man’s arm in order to unlock it and usher them inside.
“Sorry about the mess,” he said sheepishly as he turned on lights and made a half-hearted effort at tidying up. “I wasn’t really expecting company.”
Jack looked around, smiling and apparently oblivious to any subpar housekeeping. “I like your place,” he said with a little smile on his face. The apartment was, for the most part, one large room with archways rather than doors, giving it an enclosed and comfortable feeling. “It’s very homey.” Atlas watched him as he looked around at everything, and tried to see his apartment as if for the first time. It wasn’t bad; it had all the necessities and was fairly clean, but Atlas couldn’t help but think that this must be a stark contrast to the places Jack and his friends were used to.
Atlas chuckled, a bit nervous. The apartment was far from pristine—it had the benefit of being in his price range, and that was about it—but he appreciated Jack’s honest effort at cheering him up. “Thanks. You probably ought to have some water before you sleep, yeah?” he suggested, making his way to the kitchen.
Jack followed him like a puppy, albeit with more stumbling and shuffling. Atlas filled a glass and handed it to him, and Jack drank the water carefully.
“So,” Jack began after swallowing, “you meet a man at a club—a ravishingly handsome man, I might add—and succeed in bringing him back to your apartment, and all you want to do is give him some water and send him off to bed?” he asked teasingly.
Atlas couldn’t help blushing. “What else am I supposed to do? I mean, you—”
“You could start by kissing me,” Jack pointed out.
Atlas suddenly realized just how close they were standing and took a step back, chuckling nervously. “You’re drunk. Maybe some other time.” He wanted to kiss Jack, he really did, but more than that, he wanted Jack to not regret it in the morning. If the young man was going to wake up in his apartment, Atlas wanted it to be as painless as possible for the both of them.
Jack gave him a knowing grin. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said in a sing-song voice.
“You won’t even remember in the morning,” Atlas said. “Come on. We both need sleep.” It was nearing one-thirty in the morning, according to the clock on the wall in the living room. Atlas led the way to the bedroom as Jack leaned on his arm. Atlas wondered just how much Jack needed help walking and how much of it was a desire to be close, to tease him. “Here we are. Bathroom’s right there, if you need it. And if you vomit in my bed, you’re cleaning it up yourself,” he warned. Jack giggled, slipping off his suit jacket and leaving it on the dresser. “I’ll be out there if you need me for anything,” Atlas finished, moving to leave as Jack continued disrobing.
“You’re not gonna stay?” Jack asked forlornly, freezing in the middle of taking off his tie.
Atlas shook his head. “You seem like the type who’d kick a lot in his sleep. I’ll take the sofa.”
Jack giggled at that and resumed undressing. “Thank you for letting me stay. This is much more better than staying at one of my friend’s places,” he said, sinking down clumsily to sit on the bed and remove his shoes.
“Why do you spend time with them at all if you hate them so much?” Atlas asked, eyeing Jack carefully and hoping the young man wouldn’t be needing any help to undress. That was more intimate than he thought advisable.
“It’s not that I hate them,” Jack explained. “Sometimes they’re fun. But whenever we start talking about anything serious, they all start sounding like those goddamn propaganda recordings, you know?” Jack scoffed. “Sometimes I think they should be Ryan’s kids, not me.”
Atlas felt his body freeze, and his mouth dropped open. “Wait, what? You’re…?”
Jack looked up from the buttons of his shirt. “Oh, you didn’t know?” he asked nonchalantly. “I thought everybody knew.”
Now that the idea was in his mind, Atlas could see that Jack did bear a resemblance to the young man who stood by Ryan’s side in press photos. ‘Jack Ryan, heir to Rapture Industries,’ the newspapers called him. Atlas had occasionally wondered how nepotism factored into Ryan’s ideas of free market and self-reliance, but other than that, he’d never given Ryan’s son a thought, other than a vague, directionless hatred for the dynasty that oppressed the people of Rapture. And here was the man himself, sitting on Atlas’ bed, undressing and trying to seduce him. This certainly complicated things. “No, I…I didn’t know,” Atlas finally managed to say.
“Well I hope you’re not thinking of kicking me out now, because I don’t think I’d be able to do up my buttons again,” Jack confessed with a smile, shrugging his dress shirt off to reveal the white undershirt beneath it.
“No, no, you can stay. I just…you know, didn’t expect…” Atlas trailed off, feeling embarrassed now. Can I really allow him to stay, knowing who he is? What would people say? Does this make me a hypocrite? No…Jack isn’t like him. He’s nice.
Jack laughed a little at him and lay back on the bed. “Surprise,” he said with a little sing-song voice.
Atlas managed a nervous laugh at that. “I’ll let you sleep, then, I suppose. Goodnight, Mr. Ryan,” he said teasingly as he turned to go.
“Don’t start with that shit,” Jack warned, mumbling as he buried his face in a pillow.
Atlas just smiled, turned out the lights, and headed for the sofa, an uneasy feeling building in his stomach.