Chapter Text
The Purple Sock was a shithole. It was a tiny bar down a tiny piss filled alleyway in the back end of the city. Dingy, dirty, with garish colours all across the walls and equally garish music blasting from ancient speakers. There were men half heartedly trying to grind against each other to the mismatched beat, not looking too dissimilar to a shoal of fish trying to escape a net. Or a tin of sardines.
Carl didn't know why he was even there.
Okay, that was a lie. He knew exactly why he was there. He was there because he was pushing 40, depressed and just so fucking lonely. He'd not been to a gay bar since his university days, and even then it had been more out of obligation than an active interest.
He'd been there for all of 20 minutes, and the most he'd done is order a (disappointingly cheap tasting) Chardonnay, sat down at the bar, and watched the mostly early 20 somethings gyrating against each other in their ill fitting clothing. He'd never been a part of that crowd, never wanted to either. The press of people that close reminded him too much of childhood memories he's rather forget forever.
There was someone in the mix that caught his eye, however.
He was older than the rest, possibly mid 30s though it was hard to tell from a distance, small stature with a head of dyed curls and he was bouncing more than dancing along to the music. There didn't seem to be anything extraordinary about him, his shirt was a bright green paisley design that was just one shade off of being gaudy, a slight belly and jeans that seemed to be a touch too tight, and yet Carl couldn't keep his eyes off of him.
As if sensing it, the man turned his head away from the tall hairy man he'd been attempting to talk to (although the latter had barely seemed to register the smaller man even existed) and made split second eye contact with Carl from across the room.
Carl looked away in shame, glancing down at the drink in his hands and taking a big swig from it. The alcohol burnt it's way down his throat. He took his chance again to look up only to realise the man had disappeared. He couldn't stop the slight hint of disappointment hitting him. Although, it wasn't as if he'd ever have gone up to the man. Carl was an observer, he stood back in the shadows and watched as the world went by him. It was better that way, safer.
He saw someone approach him from the corner of his eye, and before he had the chance to properly look the voice said.
'You look a bit out of place here!'
It was the man, of course it was. He was a soft lilting voice that matched the slight smirk on his face and the hand perched loosely on his hip.
Carl glanced him up and down. The shirt was definitely gaudier up close, his curls looked less pristine and there was smudged eyeliner around his eyes. He was pretty, though, Carl'd give him that. His brain finally registered what the man had said and hurried to come up with something to say.
'You don't.' Is what he blurted out eventually, bluntly.
The man's eyebrows flew up to his hairline in shock but his smile widened at Carl's words.
'Ohh catty! I like it!' He pulled the bar stool out with a flourish and plonked himself down next to Carl. 'So, what's your name gorgeous?'
It was Carl's turn to be stumped by the remark, adjusting his glasses nervously.
'Carl' He took a sip of his drink after he'd spoken, throat feeling suddenly dry.
'I'm Stu, short for Stuart' The man, Stu, said. 'Or 'Stupid Fucking Cunt' if you're too believe my ex!'
Stu looked at Carl expectantly and clicked his tongue when the latter didn't react.
'That usually gets at least a grin out of people... Tough crowd' He adjusted his sitting position and, undeterred, asked. 'So, Carl, what brings you to my humble abode?'
Carl thought for a second before saying, 'Desperation.'
It was sad but true.
Stu snorted. 'Oh, love, I have definitely been there!'
The pet name would usually irk Carl, especially coming from a stranger, but perhaps the alcohol (or Stu) had gone to his head because he found he sort of liked the sound of it.
Stu spotted the nearly empty glass in Carl's hand and asked 'Can I get you another?'
'Oh... Yes please that would-'
'What're you having?' Stu interrupted, shifting in his seat again and turning to look for the bartender behind them.
'I'll have a lager' He hated lager, but didn't think he could stomach any more of the disgusting wine.
'Oh! Very macho!' Stu teased with a wink, ordering Carl his drink and himself a Strawberry Daiquiri which hurt Carl's teeth even just hearing the name of it.
Stu turns back around to face Carl.
'I have to ask' He started, sounding for the first time slightly awkward. 'You are gay, right?'
Carl did a double take.
'I mean...' He glanced around at the rest of the club where there were still a dozen or so men still dancing to the awful music. 'That tends to be who frequents a gay bar, no?'
Stu flapped his hand dismissively 'Yes yes, I know that, but you can never be too sure! I was once chatting up a man for half an hour, turned out he was a lesbian and thought I was a lesbian too!'
He paused for a beat before adding. 'It was possibly the only time I've ever been considered butch, though, so it wasn't all bad!'
As he spoke the bartender returned with their drinks. Carl offered the man a tight lipped smile as he took his. It was in a bottle which didn't fill Carl with much confidence at the quality. He took a sip and didn't immediately wince, though, so it was a distinct improvement from the wine.
'Oh, thanks dear!' Stu exclaimed theatrically, taking his own vibrantly coloured cocktail and immediately taking a few mouthfuls.
Carl watched Stu's profile as he drank. Even behind the messed up eyeliner he could see the man had long eyelashes, casting shadows on his cheeks. He definitely looked older up close, possibly closer to Carl's age than he initially though, but it didn't stop him being strikingly handsome. The defined curve of his nose that tapered off into that pretty cupids bow.
He put the drink down, wiping the corners of his lips before realising that Carl had been staring at him.
'What? Have I got something on me face?' His hands hovered over his cheeks ready to wipe off any offending substance.
'No no you're just...' Carl cleared his throat awkwardly, fiddling with the neck of the lager bottle. 'You're very attractive, that's all'
Stu blinked twice before bursting out into raucous laughter.
'Blimey, that was like pulling teeth!' He said in-between giggles. 'Have you never given a compliment before?'
Carl rolled his eyes but couldn't stop himself from smiling.
'Thank you, though.' Stu said through his eyelashes, hand inches from Carl's knee. 'I think you're very attractive too, for the record.'
Carl instinctively jerked his knee back, nearly falling off of the bar stool and knocking over his bottle in the process.
'Sorry, sorry!' Stu moved his hand back as if he'd been burned, eyebrows scrunched up worriedly as he watched Carl with wide, fearful eyes.
'No it's... Fine' Carl silently cursed himself for his reaction. He was nearly fucking 40 how had he still not got a handle of this? He willed his heart rate to return to normal and prayed to every god he didn't believe in that his eyes wouldn't well up. 'You just... startled me'
Desperate to make Stu stop looking at him with so much pity and confusion, he tentatively asked 'So, do you come here often or...?'
It sounded cliché even to his own ears and he couldn't stop himself cringing. Stu, mercifully, didn't seem to notice (or at least had the grace not to make a joke about it) and went off into a spiel about how he only ever really came to the Sock (his term) when he wanted a cheap drink or a quick fuck.
'Though, nowadays the drinks cost a bloody arm and leg, plus everyone here is half my age and stinks of Lynx, so I might need to find a new hovel soon' He sighed wistfully and took another sip of his drink.
'I think you mean coven rather than hovel' Carl dead panned, feeling moderately looser now the wine and lager were beginning to take effect.
'Did you just call me a witch?!' Stu asked in a mock scandalised tone, clutching at non-existent pearls.
'Maybe' Carl shrugged trying to hide his smile.
'Careful or I'll turn you into a toad!' The other waggled his finger at him, his voice had gone up an octave in a witch voice that gave Margaret Hamilton a run for her money.
'I think if you were a real witch you'd at least have done yourself the service of magicking up a decent looking shirt!' He quipped, raising an eyebrow playfully as he eyed the offending garment.
Stu laughed more raucously than the joke deserved but Carl couldn't bring himself to care. It felt nice to make someone laugh. It felt like years since he'd done it.
'I like this shirt!' He said around a fake pout, smoothing the fabric down over his chest.
'So did I, back in the 70s'
Stu laughed again before retorting 'At least I don't look like a disgraced banker who's been stood up at his own wedding, I mean, who wears a three piece suit to a gay bar?!'
It was Carl's turn to look down at his own outfit. He suddenly realised he may be slightly overdressed for the place in his matching three piece... He didn't have a tie on though which he felt made the whole thing casual enough.
He opened his mouth to try and defend himself when Stu interjected.
'You're not actually a banker, are you?'
Carl shook his head and launched into as simple explanation he could of his current working situation (that he was currently unemployed after finally leaving his father's company, much to the cunt's annoyance... He kept those details out of his account to Stu, childhood trauma was more of a 40th date topic).
Stu spoke about his own job as a hairdresser ('I know, I know I'm a living gay stereotype, sue me!') and before Carl knew it he'd drank most of his lager and they'd been chatting away for what felt like hours, but in reality was probably about half an hour.
He was just trying to think of a way of asking if Stu had siblings when the other man spoke up instead.
'Look, we both know we're both interested in... This...' Stu leaned in conspiratorially, peering at Carl through his eyelashes playfully. He lowered his tone as he spoke. 'I know a place out back that we can go and... You know...'
He made a lewd gesture with his hands, that, coupled with the glint in his eye made him look like a teenager.
Carl wasn't sure how he should react, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment until Stu suddenly burst into a cackle which didn't do much to dispel the witch allegations.
'I'm sorry, but your face!' He giggled. 'I might be a bit of a slag but I do have some standards!'
Carl tried to laugh along with him but the sound felt hollow to his own ears. He drank the rest of his lager, keeping the cold bottle tightly in his grip.
'I'd say 'buy me a drink first' but it seems you beat me to that too' He tried to joke once he was sure his voice wouldn't sound wobbly.
Stu snorted again, downing the rest of his own drink, glass clunking back down on the counter. 'Speaking of?'
He nodded towards Carl's empty bottle.
Carl considered his options for a moment. He was enjoying Stu's company. The man was a bit crass but he seemed sweet enough and (mostly) normal. And more than anything Carl really wanted someone to make him feel normal.
Only a few weeks earlier Rebecca had been telling him he should try meeting someone. She was seeing some ponce from the office that she wouldn't shut up about. He'd warned her about his hang ups but she'd quickly dismissed that, she was never one to talk about what happened. Not that she really knew that much about it. It had mainly been he, Caroline and the other boys who'd gotten the brunt of their fathers...
He tried to shake the thoughts from his head.
'I should be heading back home...' Is what he heard himself say. He glanced at his watch. It was barely 11:00pm. God, he felt pathetic.
Stu's face fell slightly, briefly, and it pained Carl. The shorter man quickly schooled his expression into a joyful one and said.
'Oh of course, here's me mindlessly yapping away when you obviously need to leave!' He held out his hand then. Carl eyed it curiously before the other man said impatiently with a playful roll of his eyes. 'It's not covered in jizz, you know, you can touch it'
They shook hands, which felt like a strangely formal thing to conclude a conversation with a stranger. Stu's hands were warm and smooth, they felt nice.
'Well, Carl, it's been a pleasure!' Stu exclaimed overly dramatically. 'And if you're ever desperate again then it would be a delight to put another curse upon ye!'
Carl laughed softly and said a quiet and awkward 'You too' before getting up from the stool.
His brain was screaming at him to ask the man on a date, or his number, or fucking ANYTHING. Instead he offered Stu a smile and turned to leave. His legs felt heavy, like they were made of lead, as he stepped closer and closer to the door. Just turn back, his mind yelled, turn back and tell him you're interested. Turn back, just turn back, turn-
'Carl!' Stu called over to him, waving what looked like a beermat. He rushed over to where Carl was standing just inches from the door and handed him what was indeed a beermat with a hastily scrawled number along the edge.
'My number' Stu stated the obvious. 'You don't have to call or anything I just...'
He swallowed, that uncharacteristic nervousness coming back just briefly.
'I really like you Carl' He continued, 'And unless I'm completely barking up the wrong tree I think you like me too...?'
'I do' Carl hurriedly replied.
'Oh, it's a bit early for wedding vows, isn't it?' Stu joked, looking and sounding relieved. 'Anyway, you better go before the bartender realises I nicked another beermat'
Carl nodded not trusting himself to speak in-case he did something stupid like actually propose to the other man. He smiled and held the beermat up instead, taking in Stu's dishevelled form once more before turning to leave for real.
He felt giddy, like a school girl, beermat tightly gripped in his fist.
It felt like finally taking the first step in feeling normal and he couldn't wait to call Stu.