Work Text:
As usual, Wriothesley was used to the bar being quiet at night when got off work from a long shift. He found it pleasant with little noise and he felt comfortable to decompress from another stressful day. Even if he appeared calm on the outside, everyone needs some time to relax. He had been tense for roughly twelve hours, but he managed having worked there so long now. At the bar, it was a typical quiet night. None of the TVs were on. It was only Wriothesley and less than a handful of other people.
Seated, he leaned over the bar, hunching a bit over his drink. He held it in his hand by his fingertips close to the rim and swirled it absent-mindedly as he stared off into space. The bartender was off to the side shining a few glasses that were left.
He had dissociated so deeply that he didn't catch that someone had taken a seat next to him. It was only when the stranger spoke that his ears perked up like a dog's.
“You might hurt your back if you sit like that for much longer.”
Wriothesley did not immediately look at the stranger. He was still coming back down to reality.
“Oh? Haha, you're absolutely right.”
When he finally looked, he was caught off-guard yet again. This man sitting next to him did not look like the type to ever visit a bar in his life. Before he could comment, he swallowed back his thoughts and thought he'd keep the air light. For some reason, his interest was piqued in keeping the conversation going…
“Do I look that old?”
The stranger made eye contact and Wriothesley felt himself physically react with a jolt. He cleared his throat in response.
White hair…it looked really soft.
“My apologies, I didn't mean to offend.”
Oh, he genuinely meant it. But why? He didn't know him.
The stranger went on, “You don't look old. Maybe 30s at most.”
Wriothesley couldn't help but laugh aloud.
“Hahaha! Thanks, I'm actually in my 40s, so I thought you were making an old person joke, but I will definitely take the compliment.”
The stranger softened his gaze and looked back towards the bar.
“I find that joking is not my forte, so I rarely use it.”
He was so eloquently wording things, it was almost intimidating. But Wriothesley could tell he was a kind person.
“I'm–”
“Wriothesley, correct? I know.”
He was a correctional officer and yet this strange man has caught him off-guard at least three times so far.
The stranger could tell Wriothesley panicked a bit to locate info in his brain if he was supposed to know who he was. He quickly spoke back up.
“You're very well known around here. While I am also a local, I don't frequently leave my home very often. I gathered my courage to today and while roaming I saw you coming to this bar.” A pause. “You looked a bit agitated, so I decided to come, ah…cheer you up?”
He was losing his words. Was he getting nervous?
“We haven't met before?”
“No, not formally. Though I've known what you look like.”
Maybe one would have taken his words as meaning he had been stalking him, but Wriothesley didn't feel like that was the correct situation. He felt it was more…wholesome than that. He even said he didn't leave his house often. Was he implying he's been wanting to formally meet Wriothesley? For how long?
“It's a pleasure to formally meet you. My name is Neuvillette.”
“Even your name is eloquent…” Wriothesley couldn't help whisper to himself.
“Hmm?”
A nervous laugh. “Oh, nothing…The feeling is mutual. Can I buy you a drink, Neuvillette?”
Not only was he himself excited to say his name out loud, but he didn't catch that his new companion shifted slightly in his seat when he did.
“...Thank you, but you don't have to do that. I am happy with the water.”
A short silence, but it was not uncomfortable. Wriothesley sipped on his gin and tonic every once in a while as they continued light conversation. Even though his evening had been “interrupted”, he was not unhappy with how it unfolded.
Neuvillette carried himself very quaintly and had a nice voice. He made for pleasant conversation. That was how he would describe him in one word: pleasant.
At one point, he managed to make Neuvillette chuckle and it sent sparks flying in his mind. It told him this was a rare occurrence, so he would treasure it. Even though it was just a chuckle, it was harmonious to his ears. Maybe he could do that again sometime…wait, did he really think “sometime”?
It was reaching that time where if Wriothesley didn't get home to rest, he'd be overly exhausted the next day. The threat of having to leave actually made him anxious. He's never met someone that was the equivalent of a breath of fresh air. His whole demeanor, behavior, appearance…it was all refreshing like that glass of water.
“Neuvillette…it was great to meet you. I had fun.”
He could tell the other knew what he was implying. For a moment, he thought he saw a glimpse of disappointment in his eyes. But this faded as quickly as it appeared.
“Likewise.” He rose from his seat after sliding some money under his glass for the bartender despite not having ordered anything.
Wriothesley noticed.
His mind was racing. Try as he might, he couldn't organize his thoughts. He didn't even catch the next thing the other was saying. He panicked internally.
“Um, look, I…” he stammered. This wasn't like him, which made him even more self-conscious.
Neuvillette had stopped and turned back around to him. He looked…yearning.
Wriothesley placed a hand nervously behind his neck. “...I get off on Sunday nights. So…if you want, we could meet again then?”
He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it sure wasn't that he watched Neuvillette's eyes light up like the stars in the night sky.
“Yes, I would love to.” He barely let Wriothesley finish asking.
The scarred man smiled warmly, but avoided his star struck eyes. It could very well drive him mad if he kept staring.
“I'm glad to hear it. I'll see you then.” He gingerly waved as Neuvillette nodded and left the bar. Not long after, Wriothesley followed suit back to his apartment.
The two very quickly made this meeting a regular occurrence. Every Sunday night without fail. They didn't keep track of how long it went on. A fair few times Wriothesley was kept late, but he would rush over right after and Neuvillette would always be waiting. Wriothesley would always apologize profusely though. He couldn't offer Neuvillette a drink, so he wondered what else he could offer.
Until one night, he thought of something. Though it was a bit risky.
After one of their meetups as Neuvillette was getting up to leave, Wriothesley called out to him to wait a moment.
Now was the time to be bold.
He felt around in his pocket to grab something. Neuvillette watched intently though tried to not stare too much. (Though Wriothesley was by no means unpleasant to look at in general.)
The big bad correctional officer held out what appeared to be a key to the eloquent man.
They were both quiet for far too long.
“That's…”
“Yeah. Uh. It's…it's mine. I live in the West Apartments. I know it's really forward, but…” he tried to get control of himself. “Now you can see me whenever you want.” He gave himself a mental pat on the back for the confidence of the last sentence.
When the other didn't respond very quickly, however, he panicked again and looked up at the other.
Boy, that was a sight.
His graceful and elegant companion was beet red.
Unfortunately, he noticed Wriothesley looking at him intently and he raised his hand to his mouth and cleared his throat.
“Ah…you are always extremely interesting to converse with, Wriothesley. I feel as though I would never find a dull moment with you even until the end of time.”
This made Wriothesley smirk. Mostly to himself. He said that so easily.
“...Thank you. I will take great care of this honor you have bestowed upon me.”
He took the key from his hand, delicately.
Wriothesley nearly dropped to the floor to hide his own redness he felt threatening his cheeks. He rose from his seat and offered his arm for the other to take. Hesitantly, and a bit embarrassedly, Neuvillette wrapped his hands around his arm. And what a strong arm indeed...
Once they were outside, they stole one more glance at each other.
“I'll see you soon then.”
A nod of acknowledgement and a small, but warm smile.
“I look forward to it.”