Chapter Text
When John was told he had to show up for an event he didn't anticipate wearing a stiff suit for four hours straight whilst his husband negotiated deals with people even more arrogant than he is. He had to admit, the designer suits looked amazing but they lacked practicality. John was only there to make Chris look good and if he knew he'd be stuck wearing a shitty suit for hours on end he would've made more of an effort not to come.
John tugged at the collar of his shirt, slightly losing the tie, and made his way over to the bar on the pretence of getting a drink. In reality he just wanted to get away from his insolent twat of a husband, getting drunk was just a plus. He sat on one of the stools, the leather squeaking under him.
“Scotch please.” John said, flashing the bartender a smile, which was reciprocated with a look of desire in his eyes which John could barely suppress a grimace at.
“It's on the house.” the bartender said with a wicked grin as he placed the drink down in front of him.
John nodded his thanks and turned in his seat and took a swig, scanning the room aimlessly until his eyes landed on two people in a darkened corner of the room.
A dishevelled man with love bites trailing up his neck, lipstick staining the corner of his mouth, tie loosened. Next to him was a woman who John recognised, Catherine, someone he had become well acquainted with over the joint hatred for these fancy parties, attempting to confront him about something, her words punctuated with jabs to his chest, but he clearly wasn't listening, as per the cocky smirk that played at his lips. He turned away from her and started to walk away when he spotted John at the otherwise empty bar and their eyes met for a brief moment as he flashed him a grin, before walking down a corridor, adjusting his collar as he did so.
John downed his drink and made his way over to Catherine, partially to console her, but mainly to find out what happened.
After countless tissues and multiple “It’ll be alright.”s, Catherine was still a sobbing mess, and reasonably so, John thought. He would be crying too if his husband cheated on him (No he wouldn't, he couldn't stand the bastard and didnt care what he did, but if his husband looked like that it would be another story.)
“I don't know why i keep going back to him.'' Catherine said between sobs, wiping her nose with a crumpled tissue.
“It'll be alright Cath,” John said as he put his arms around her back in a mildly awkward attempt at consoling her. “You’ll sort it out.”
She cried onto his shoulder, dampening his suit and definitely creasing it, but he didn't really mind. His thoughts were elsewhere, lingering on her husband. He felt awful, having… lustful thoughts about your friend's husband while they were in hysterics about him definitely was not getting him into heaven. Not that he believed in that mind you, but he needed something to keep him in check right now.
When Catherine finally calmed down, the party had died down, the only people left being the hosts, Catherine, and his extremely pissed off husband.
“Where the fuck where you?” Chris hissed, as he grabbed John's arm and pulled him towards him, making John stumble.
“I was with Catherine,” John said, yanking his arm out of chris’ grip to walk beside him, rather than be dragged along. “Her husband cheated on her. I was trying to help her out.”
“Is that the brunette?” Chris asked, looking over his shoulder at John as he unlocked the car and got in. “Simon has been cheating on her since before they were married, poor girl. dont know why she stays with him.”
“Simon?”
“Yes Simon. Her husband?” Chris said with an eyeroll, enunciating his words as if he thought John was stupid.
John kept quiet on the drive home, turning to look out the window, mind clouded with thoughts of Simon.
It was late when they got home, the pitch black encompassed their garden, shadows shying away as they walked up the path and the lights turned on. Chris went straight to bed, only bothering to hang up his suit and put away his shoes, not even saying good night to John. John chose to stay up, sitting in the living room alone was more favourable than sharing a bed with his husband.
He aimlessly flicked through channels on the tv, not finding anything decent to watch. He eventually settled on a random film that was halfway through, not really watching it but keeping it on for background noise as he dozed off.
He was half asleep when his phone buzzed, causing him to jolt awake. He reached for his phone as it buzzed again, the screen glowing as he turned it on. He had two separate messages, one from Catherine and one from someone he hadn't saved in his contacts. His brows furrowed as he unlocked his phone and sat up straight, reading Catherine’s message first.
Her message was short, thanking him for comforting her and for “being a good friend”. John wasn’t too sure about that. Good friends didn’t find their friend’s husband hot while they cried on his shoulder about him.
He opened the second message and his frown grew. It read:
‘Saw you looking at me from the bar. Next time you should talk to me. I don’t bite.’