Archive of Our Own

When Aaron sees him he knows he's perfect. Tall, dark haired, built more in the chest then the legs, and, more importantly, a guy. At least, it's what he's pretty sure of. Saint John's is his first queer friendly club he's ever visited by himself, but he's pretty sure that at least half the clientèle there are into dicks, and even if it's not what he finds, exactly, at least he has some kind of shot, right?

It's not the kind of place Andrew or Neil would be caught dead in. Nicky, maybe, but his cousin would rather get trashed and have a ride home then go anywhere more in character then Eden's Twilight. Aaron thinks he'd like this place, with it's 80's diner and dance floor, one half of the room dedicated to dancing and the rest to burgers, fries, and shots.

Aaron's there because he wants to be somewhere no one he's knows would find him. No one who looks at him and thinks murderer, delinquent, brother, or teammate. He's just a guy... and maybe he's a guy in the middle of a bisexual crisis, but as long as that doesn't show in his face, he's probably fine.

Come on, Minyard. Get it together.

He had a plan: show up, have a drink, meet someone, and see what happens. If it led to more... he wasn't ready for more. But if it led to something different, a revelation, a final confirmation, then fine. He'd take that new found knowledge and maybe in ten to fifteen years of personal growth he'd have the time to exploit it. For the time being he just wanted to know if what he felt... meant anything, anything that didn't have anything to do with what people associated with Aaron Minyard.

He tries the bar first. It's red with green neon lighting it's frame, the chairs thankfully fitted with built in foot stools that make it possible for him to sit down without making an ass out of himself. Most people seem to be settled into their drinks or on the floor, so it's easy to get the bartender's notice and order a vodka sunrise.

He knows because of Kate that fruity drinks are kind of his weakness, even if he'd never let Nicky know as long as he lived, and he plans on downing at least one for confidence, if not for the purpose of getting wasted. He wants his head on straight for the... not straight part of his "adventure", but once he gets the drink, he's not sure what to do with himself.

At this point he's pretty sure someone's supposed to approach him, that's how it's done, right? He gets hit on with some poorly hidden intention to get into his pants, Aaron sees what happens with his hormones, and he maybe kisses a guy for the first, and possibly last, time.

He's not dumb, he knows he can't base his entire sexuality on one chance encounter, but he only has it in him that month for maybe one humiliating night, otherwise one glass of vodka isn't going to cut it.

It's twenty minutes of nursing a sweating glass and listening to the same poppy beats on repeat before Aaron realizes he's been juggling his leg on the stool for too long. He should go up to someone, give his name, see where things led. That wasn't what happened with Kate: they had the same classes, the same major, it just sort of... happened. Katelyn had all the confidence in their relationship, that's why she'd been willing to listen to Neil, that's why when the internship came up she responsibly chose her education over a dumb college romance, that's why he was there alone, and not going up to the dark haired stranger that was suddenly hovering over his personal space like one of the four horsemen of the apocalypse.

"Hey, man, you good?"

Aaron jolted in place. Blood rushed to his face quickly, but he shoved the blush down. It taken too long learn how to control, he wasn't about to go red in the ears. But man this guy was tall, almost as much as Kevin, if not exactly so, and if he was talking to Aaron then Aaron must have been staring longer then he thought.

"Who's asking?" He nearly winces. He sounds as defensive as his brother, expect Andrew probably wouldn't have verbally answered the stranger. After Neil, he was unlikely to acknowledge him at all. But Aaron is feeling ridiculous, vulnerable, probably, and maybe it's not just his first night at a bar alone, but his first night alone, in general, in a long time.

The stranger blanks, probably surprised, but his face doesn't change much. "Me. Just, Cyndi Lauper is on and you're the only blond in here not wigging out to Girls Wanna Have Fun."

Aaron makes a noise he can't describe. He'd barely noticed the music, distracted as he was by his internal crisis. But suddenly it's clearer then it's dull buzz from before and Aaron's really looking at the guy.

Tall, freckled, probably in his age range and he's never seen him in his life. That doesn't change that Aaron's immediately on guard, it's probably unavoidable, but he showed up at the bar for a reason, damnit. "My ex likes Cyndi Lauper." Likes. Liked. Kate isn't dead, she just isn't in his life anymore, no matter what the tentative texts at something platonic suggested.

The stranger hums in question but actually seems disappointed. How, since they literally just met, Aaron has no idea. "You can't let old blood ruin good music, sunshine."

Aaron can feel his jaw dropping. "What-?"

The stranger starts to grin, there's a chipped tooth where a complete canine should be, and when the stranger leans into the bar maybe it's because he's so used to being around giants that Aaron doesn't make space.

"Think about it. Imagine if you met your first love and you both liked Super Mario. It goes bad, you break up, and now every time you see a mustached Italian man or a plumbing service van suddenly you're ten years old and crying into your Kraft mac n’ cheese."

"I think you're projecting." Who the fuck is this person? "Do you always go up to complete strangers to bring up their trauma in your spare time or were you feeling adventurous today?"

The stranger laughed, the sound broken and making his eyes squint, promising an old age full of laugh lines. Aaron was staring again. "Are you kidding? Strangers are the best people to dump trauma on. Can I?" He nods at the stool.

He's surprised they asked, maybe that's why he didn't deliberate long enough to consider saying no. When the stranger sits down they're of course still taller than Aaron, but it still levels out the playing filed somewhat. Had Aaron been standing beside him, he imagins that he'd have to look up, like he had Katelyn. He'd never minded her being taller; he sort of liked it, especially in bed. Legs for days and he was the one who got to push them back over her head— anyway .

"This is probably the part where you introduce yourself," Aaron said, tired of calling them The Stranger in his head, and the guy brightened.

"Wezen Bluhm," he raised a hand at the bartender, who nodded and got to work on a drink.

"”Wezen”?" It sounded...

"After the star. Canis Majoris," he said, and it clicked, sort of. Aaron had taken some astronomy, somehow thinking at the time that it would be an easy science credit to pile onto the lot, but the physics behind it all meant he dropped it pretty much in the first month. "Chose it myself," he further explained with Aaron's squint, barely looking but thanking the bartender when a sunrise was slid next to his hand. Aaron wasn't impressed that he stopped it with a gentle palming of the edge of the glass, eyes on the Minyard, but he was surprised he had asked for a copy of his drink.

"Who changes their name and chooses something astronomy based for the replacement?" Musical artists? Models?

"Queer folk, like me," he replied, giving the drink an easy sip. For some reason Aaron felt himself blushing, as if embarrassed, as if he wasn't literally in a queer bar for queer people-. "No worries, Sunshine, but if you're going to pick up something new, why not go for something fun?"

"And here I assumed you were a dog guy," he replied dryly, and the laugh returned, although Aaron was getting used to it. What he wasn't used to was making anyone laugh except for, well, Kate. I need to stop thinking about my ex while at the bar.

"Sometimes, I do love dogs, but the rest you'll have to unlock after a few personal quests."

His mouth tried to make a flat line, tried. "And you're a gamer. Why didn't I get that sooner."

"How'd you figure?"

"Anyone can know Mario. Not everyone is into RPG games with "quests"."

"Not to keen on those anyones," he shrugged a shoulder. "They're alright, but we've got some kind of advantage when we find one of our own." His smile widened a bit, his elbow on the counter as he looked at Aaron with his chin cradled in a hand... "I'm guessing you're one of my own?"

For some reason butterflies erupted in his stomach at this. But why? "I play when I have time."

"Any recent titles?"

"BioShock."

His grin widened, becoming something less a friendly sort of soft to almost excited. Aaron didn't realize he'd describe a guy's smile as "soft" but he was distracted by that thought as Wezen started asking him how he felt about the game.

It started with Aaron talking about how intrigued he was by the "magic system", as Wezen called it, or the use of serums to give your character inhuman abilities. Wezen admitted that he liked taking photographs and the general aesthetic of the environment, and the conversation molded into the topic of the game's critiques on authoritarianism, and Objectivism. What was unavoidable was the critical analysis of addiction and unregulated capitalism in the game, and despite Aaron's initial discomfort with the former he found himself rambling about it and the failure of the "War on Drugs" in the middle of the conversation.

"But you know that shit was race based-."

"It's all raced based, so much of it is raced based. I'm a med student, you know how much bullshit about black people is made up because my so called forefathers insisted and still insist that they can't be as human as us? It's as true as everything is political-."

"A hundred percent!" Wezen was gesturing with his drink, but Aaron had done the same, and somehow he was pretty sure that it was his third mix in the hour. Two hours? What time was it—? "Look, look," Wezen had waves down the bartender, getting a napkin and a pen. "Teacher asks the kiddos, draw a house. You draw a house, what's on the house? What is a house?" As he's drawing a box with a pointy top, adding windows and even clouds. "A chimney, a fence, does the kid add either of those things? Do they draw some picket fenced yard or do they draw a trailer? Do they draw, draw, a kitchen because they live in apartment and where's the fence, really?" It all comes out so quickly that he actually stutters.

Aaron takes the napkin as Wezen holds it up, thinking. What would he have drawn without thinking? The house in Columbia? No, not as a kid. Maybe the one story he shared with Tilda, with the cracked front window and the sheets over the glass in the place of curtains, but not all of them. His cheeks burn at the thought, Aaron embarrassed by something that never happened, but could have if he'd been told to draw a house.

"Sunshine?" A question. Aaron dropped the napkin on the counter, putting his glass over the picture.

Wezen has the faintest wrinkle on his brow, and for a moment Aaron thought he saw, that he knew, but it smoothed away. And he didn't ask.

"Why “Sunshine”?" Aaron had to pick up the drink again to clear his throat, holding the napkin down with a pinkie as it tried to stick. The ink had begun to run.

Wezen seemed to hesitate, although he did begin to grin again. A small shrug and, "the hair."

"Really?" Aaron rose a brow, letting him know he clearly didn't believe that as a complete explanation.

Wezen held up his palms, "Okay, okay, maybe it was the scowl, too?"

"What scowl?"

"That one!" He pointed at Aaron's face and Aaron swatted the hand down. He didn't mean to, didn't even think about it, but Wezen laughed again. Laughed from being smacked, as if the two of them were old friends and not-. "That scowl, you could spark a fire with that scowl, it's so electric!"

"Not sunny."

"Plenty warm, Sunshine," Wezen said, as if trying to reassure him and Aaron saw it, that second where it seemed like he was about to put his hand on his knee. But didn't. He'd only imagined it. "You were looking about when you came in like you were looking for someone to square up with or somethin'."

"I was not-," he stopped speaking. Maybe he had been scowling. Nicky liked to say that he had the worst RBF between him and his brother. Between him and Andrew, of all people! "That's just my face!" He said it as if Nicky were there to hear it, Nicky and Wezen, and Wezen raised his hands again. Aaron felt inexplicably insulted, what, did they expect him to start swinging? And answered that assumption with trying to knock his hands away again. Trying, but the hands stayed up, and Wezen was laughing, until the bartender told them to calm down or take it outside.

Aaron was almost startled, until he saw the server's own grin and head shake, Wezen waving at the guy in apology before moving his hands between his legs. He grabbed his chair's edge there, back stuck in a lean it must have been in the entire time during their conversation, and Aaron almost feels...guilty. And for someone he just met, let alone-.

"Hungry?"

Aaron stopped looking for a clock and considered himself. He opened his mouth and his stomach answered for him. There was no way that he heard the rumble, but Wezen saw Aaron press his hand to his stomach, and maybe he felt himself redden after. So much time spent trying to control his tells and a few drinks had ruined his composure.

"The fries are good. They're made with avocado oil-."

"A healthy fat at a bar. What year is it."

Wezen chuckles, the sound somehow different from the other huffs of amusement and near barks of delight he'd begun collecting over the night. "You've walked into an eighties themed bar, talked about a game that takes place in the sixties, and although I'm pretty sure two thousand and seven is still happening outside, you're wearing a Letterman jacket and button up with a pocket protector like a confused time traveler." Wezen stuck the pen in his exposed breast pocket, Aaron shivering from the contact of the tip managing to run against his nipple of all things.

"Sorry," Wezen backs off, elbow back on the table. "I'm a physical contact kind of person, but I try not to with strangers."

""Strangers"," Aaron repeats back, almost mockingly, not sure what he was getting at but trying to hide his sudden flustered state. It was the alcohol, it had to be. "What about food, again?"

Wezen smiles at his bluntness, the sort of thing that normally gets him in trouble, and he snagged a menu from the salt and pepper stand near them.

Aaron ordered the fries, not wanting to deal with anything messy like a possibly over sauced burger or some wings. Wezen made the same choice, asking for a shake, too, and incidentally giving Aaron the same idea.

When Wezen dipped his fries in his shake Aaron didn't mention his brother. He didn't mention that he had a gay cousin named Nicky that was currently over seas with his fiancée. He didn't bring up the Foxes or that he thinks Kevin would probably enjoy their talk about Rapture, if not the game itself, but the allusion to history used to give the city it's character.

Aaron didn't mention Kate. He actually forgot about her, until he didn't, and he felt somehow ashamed about it— forgetting, being in a bar looking for someone else— until Wezen suddenly brought up ancient Egyptian burial practices and insisted Aaron demonstrate with a straw.

When Aaron cracks a yawn Wezen asks: "What's your bedtime?"

Aaron goes to reply, "Later then-," until he finally sees the clock. It's been there the whole time, above the drinks at the bar: 1:40 AM. Somehow he'd polished off nearly four hours in one sitting.

With one person.

"What the fuck," he mostly says to himself. He's not used to staying up as late with... literally everyone else but Abby and Wymack around. Sure he's caught Nicky at weird times on Skype, but with them all gone he'd not felt like going to a bar alone after the breakup. For once in his life his sleeping schedule was on track to something healthy, if due to be ruined again when practice started up.

Wezen waves to settle the bill— How often is this guy here? — and everything's settled, with the guy ordering a spare, miniature shake.

They both end up outside without any words of goodbye, Aaron not considering it until he sees his truck and realizes he's basically failed his plans for the night.

"What's up?" They're both standing a couple feet away from the exit, the night is winding down for everyone and those left inside are meandering out but not paying them any attention. Despite the thin crowd the two of them are alone and almost feel like they've come there together. That is until Aaron hears the question.

"I had... plans for the night."

"Oh, shit," the guy's pierced brow goes up. Aaron had cataloged the gauged lobes, the pierced helixes, and the cuffs in his ears over the night but not commented. Not beyond a stray thought about how he'd probably fit into the Eden's crowd pretty well. "Is that my fault?"

"No," Aaron interrupts quickly, though he doesn't know how to continue and not fucking embarrass himself.

"I was going to try to hook up with someone."

Aaron jolts. When he meets his eyes Wezen is looking out over the parking lot, chewing on the end of his straw and...was he embarrassed? It was the first time Aaron was seeing something close to red on his face, and he was pointedly looking away from Aaron for the first time.

"I was, too."

Wezen chokes and covers his mouth, he keeps going, because they've talked about capitalism and opioid addiction and who the best looking character in the Devil May Cry series— they both agreed on Lady, although Wezen admits that the new guy, Nero, "looks cute" while Aaron thought he looks like a douche. After drinks together, how strange could sex be to mention?

Sex with other people, of course.

"Sort of."

"How," Wezen's voice is rough, a fist still near his mouth from the short coughing fit. "How do you sort of hook up with someone."

He's outside of a queer club, his truck is feet away, and he's probably never going to see this person again, so bullrushes ahead: "I've only been with women," been with being a generous thing to say outside of his recent dating history, "I wanted to at least give kissing a guy a shot before leaving it off the table."

He's still embarrassed. There's no denying it, his ears on on fire-.

"Oh, that makes sense." He swings a flimsy glare up at Wezen, knowing he doesn't deserve it and he's been trying to work on his temper, but luckily the taller man hardly seems bothered. "I've never been in a casual relationship before. I wanted to give it a shot, too."

"You wanted a hook up?"

"Maybe not all of that," he nearly makes a face and Aaron understands, he gets it. Going from anything serious immediately into one night stand territory is not on his agenda. "Kudos to whomever wants to. But a kiss, yeah. Something nice with a near but not stranger."

"How is anyone a "near but not stranger"," Aaron has to ask, and despite himself his negative mood flags for something almost amused. Wezen's unimpressed smirk helps.

"Maybe a couple of hours of light banter. Then we can kiss."

"Oh." He swallows. Wezen isn't holding his gaze but. "Does nearly four hours of what we did count?"

Wezen swallows the last gulp of his shake, Aaron accidentally watches his throat move, and only notices the lack of an Adam's apple right then, in that moment. "Yeah, yeah I'd say so."

"Are-?"

"I kind of can help with that."

Queer bar. Right. Wezen had never corrected him on his, their, her?, gender, but Aaron had let his assumptions catch up with him and now he isn't sure what the hell he's doing.

Then Wezen meets his eyes— glittering eared, blue eyed, dark haired, and tall, so tall, Wezen Bluhm— and maybe he forgets about the specifics.

"I don't think I can reach you."

It's a dumb response but it's enough to get him to do that crinkle laugh again. Aaron watches as he sets the shake down on the concrete near his feet, and when he turns to face him, the red hasn't gone away, from either of their faces.

"I can definitely help with that." Wezen cues him in with an aborted grab...to his waist. Flushing hotly, Aaron can only nod— and suddenly something's happening that no one's done before.

He's being picked up and pressed against the side of the building, his legs aromatically going up and around Wezen's hips, and Aaron's hands finding his shoulders and as Wezen presses close to keep them both up right

Oh. Well.

"How's this," Wezen asks, trying for light hearted, Aaron can tell, all the while Aaron's pretty sure his heart is going to beat out of his damn chest. When they meet eyes a hot something zings up his spine, nearly making him press closer, and there's no ignoring the pooling weight at the bottom of his stomach. Man, woman, whatever, it turns out Aaron likes being fucking manhandled. Not what I thought I would discover today, but.

He swallows himself. "It's fine." And nearly winces. Great, he's pulling a Neil. "It's different. It's not bad." Shit now he's pulling a Nicky. Except Nicky would be a lot more smooth about it and Andrew-- Fuck what Andrew would do, he's not going there.

Wezen, ignorant thank fuck to his inner turmoil, hums, and Aaron feels it on his stomach, making it swoop. Whatever Wezen sees, it relaxes any tension in his features and Aaron is rapt with attention when he draws close, but stops. His nose brushes against his, Aaron can smell something musky, something not altogether bad actually, and his mouth dries up when Wezen's expression softens further.

"How 'bout it, Sunshine."

Whatthefuck. Aaron pushes forward before he can panic. And then his mouth his on Wezen's, and he's humming again as he tilts his head and their lips slot together easily. Aaron doesn't know what he expected, but he quickly loses the plot when he feels him and tastes something...cold. The cold of strawberry ice cream shake, licked from Wezen's tongue to his. His mind numbs with how soft his mouth is, and when they have to pull away to-- to what? breathe? think?-- one of them has the bright idea to give another closed mouth kiss, to trade wet for soft and heat and holy shit he misses having a first kiss.

He doesn't realizes it's over until he speaks aloud, "You're sweet," and Wezen's voice takes him out of the reverie: "You're warm."

He's going to die.

Wezen sets him down, he nearly forgets to right himself, when's the last time his knees felt like this? Before the trial? Back when his last relationship was still a secret and every hour was numbered with waiting for the next?

"Thank you," He hears Wezen say and looks up, scowling quietly in confusion, because what else is he supposed to do? The giant bends down— Aaron's brain stutters— and he picks up the forgotten shake. "Quest complete," he says, pulling from the drink after and licking his top lip.

It's so fucking stupid.

"You're a fucking idiot."

Wezen barks out a laugh, and Aaron ignores him to stalk over to his truck. Mission accomplished. Quest complete. Time for bed.

"I didn't get your name!"

Aaron hesitates on the tarmac, fingering his keys. And he thinks about the truth.

He practically tosses it over his shoulder: "It's Michael!" because it's not a lie, not really.

"Goodnight, Michael!" Aaron can't help but look, tensing when he sees them waving, realizing it's not because of him but because seeing him grinning makes something curl in his chest that made it as hard to breathe as it did to be mad about it.

He climbs into the truck, with the squeak he hates in the door and the crack of leather in the seats, and when he starts up, happening to look outside the passenger window, Wezen is still there. Looking at a phone, still smiling, as if something good had happened. As if Aaron did something right for a change.

So, he pulls out of the parking lot and he doesn't look back.