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Lucas has been a bartender for many years. He’s seen nearly everything come and go in this establishment, and today is no exception. Love struck fool, the object of their affections blissfully ignorant to the turmoil they are putting the fool through.
Lucas watches the poor man sat at the bar. He’s been swirling the same glass of gin around for almost an hour, watching some pretty little thing across the dance floor. Lucas knows hopeless love, and this man reeks of it.
The guy the man’s watching is stunning, he has to admit, but Lucas has seen too many men like him. The kind that flirt with everyone, turning on maximum charm and bending suitors to their will with little to no effort. He also knows that they never stay the night.
The man’s black curls fall around his face, framing him like the sort of painting an artists dedicates their whole life to. His teeth are perfect beneath his perfect smile, and he stares up at the men around him through heavy lids and glossy lashes. The patrons are clearly enamoured with this new young doll, who seems to be the first to have shown an interest in them in years. They smile, and touch, and turn away to hide the tenting of their trousers beneath pot bellies from too many nights with the whisky.
In summary, the man at the bar is beyond help. But he himself is rather handsome, so Lucas still reckons he’ll try.
“He’s pretty.” Lucas winces, certain there was a better way he could have started that conversation.
The man at the bar sighed with tired eyes, swirling his drink around and around and around. “Yeah. He is.”
A silence brews between them. Lucas finishes cleaning another glass, and returns it back to its home, nestled amongst similar items on the shelf. When he turns back to the man, he is still staring.
He must really find that man special then. Maybe he was.
Lucas was going to find out.
“What’s his name?”
The man at the bar twitches at the sudden sound, and for the first time, he meets Lucas’s eyes.
Lucas’s breath is swept away instantly. This man had the kindest, most longing eyes Lucas has ever seen. Just the smallest of glances already makes Lucas feel like the most cared for person in the world. God, imagine seeing those eyes everyday.
The unnamed man on the dance floor could, if he took the chance. Ungrateful bastard. At least Lucas was finally going to be able to put a name to that blinded face.
It was probably something boring. Like Jack. Or Dylan.
“Sirius.” A small smile creeps across the man’s face. “Like the star.”
Of course. Even his name was beautiful.
“What’s yours?”
“Remus.”
A strange name. Matches Sirius, almost, in its beauty.
“Like Romulus and?”
His eyes drift away. “My Mother liked wolves.”
Then Remus’s eyes were back on Sirius. For a moment, their gazes locked, and Remus’s whole body seemed to perk up, but the Sirius’s eyes dragged on past him, and he slumped back against the bar.
“You could do better.” Lucas probes gently.
And it is true. Remus is something of a beauty himself. His jaw is sharp and chiselled, hair perfectly wavy atop his head. Faint scars run across his face, the kind that suggest mystery and excitement and danger. He looks almost roguish, or he would if it weren’t for his outfit of a knitted jumper and jeans. Still, he’s pulling off the whole bad boy turned softie look very well. It’s certainly working in Lucas. He’s found himself with a strong urge to take Remus and adopt a cat together. Not his usual first though when seeing someone hot, but times are times.
Remus’s eyes flick to him, hard. Remus tells a lot with his eyes, Lucas is noticing.
“No.” He states, sure and assertive. “No, I really couldn’t.”
He must know Sirius, then, to be so certain. Remus doesn’t look like he’s be the love at first sight kinda guy. More the close friend to afraid to ruin what they have, but killing himself in his secrets. Lucas has had all too much experience with love like that.
“You two come here together?” He asks, wanting to know more.
The pair intrigue him, Sirius aswell as Remus. There’s something about them that just makes it seem like all the other patrons are nothing but background noise. They aren’t even looking at each other, yet they burn alone like two magnetised suns, pulling and pushing and co-existing and not existing in even the same universe. It’s the most interesting thing Lucas has seen in months. He feels as if he’s only just entered into the main storyline, like he’s been a prop in the wings how whole life and now he is seeing the play.
He hoped he might get to be a romantic lead.
“Yeah, we did.” Remus continues, unaware of the brilliance of Lucas’s metaphorical theatre kid based inner monologue.
“He a friend?”
“Sure.”
“Closer than a friend.”
Remus shrugs. “Not quite a friend, not quite more. Feels like we’re in stasis.”
“He clearly want something from those men though.”
Look, Lucas isn’t one to call someone a whore. But anyone with good eyes and a sober mind can tell that there’s no reason someone was beautiful as Sirius would actually want to be touched by those perverts. Yet he’s letting himself.
One thing this perverts do have is money. Sirius could easily manipulate them into paying him for the smallest signs of affection. He doesn’t care about them, or about how it’s clearly hurting Remus. He only cares for himself.
“Maybe. Maybe he just wants to feel loved.”
Remus is arguing Sirius’s case. God, he really is far gone.
“Can he not see that you love him?” Lucas asks, because it’s clear what this is. That this is love.
But it won’t work out. And when it doesn’t, Remus will come back here some more to drink and to forget. And he’ll get talking with Lucas, just like tonight, and maybe take his number, and then maybe it could go someplace more.
Remus seems like the devoted type, and that’s exactly what Lucas wants as this point in his life. Why is it so hard to just get a man who yearns?
“He knows.” Remus takes a long swig from his drink, face unreadable through the distortion of the glass.
Damn, that sucks. Lucas’s heart goes out to him, it really does. Unrequited love is the most painful kind.
“You shouldn’t spend your time on him.” Lucas advises gently, pulling Remus’s drink towards him to refill.
“You deserve someone who loves you back. And you can get that. You’re beautiful, yes, but you have a heart too.”
Remus raises an eyebrow as he accepted the glass Lucas pushed back across the bar. “You really think I’m beautiful?”
He asks it almost testingly, dipping his toes into the water. Lucas wonders if his obsession with Sirius stems from not understanding just how desirable he actually is. He doesn’t need Sirius like he thinks. He could have anyone.
“You’re so beautiful.” Lucas tilts his head, playful. “Just my type.”
A faint blush roses on Remus’s cheeks. Lucas notes how his eyes haven’t returned to Sirius in a while.
He’s distracting him. Good.
“Even with… all this?” He gestures to his scars, and a pang of pity spreads through Lucas’s chest.
“Especially with… all that.” He returns, hand tracing the scars shape through the air in front of Remus face. “Makes you even hotter, if you ask me.
Remus chuckles. “They don’t have a super cool, awesome and hot backstory, I can promise you that.”
Lucas smirks. “Nah. Don’t believe you.”
“Okay then.” Remus leans in, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “Where do you think I got them?”
What did he think? Secret mafia past? Spy affiliations? Saving a group of school children from rabid cats? No, why was it always back to cats with this man.
Lucas leans forwards until his nose almost brushed Remus’s, staring into the silky browns of those dark eyes. “I think-“
A loud thud sounds behind them. A crunch of bones, a winded shout, yells of anger. Remus whips around in panic, and Lucas looks over his shoulder at the mess.
Two of Sirius’s pursuits seem to not like the way he was chasing after the both. One stand, meaty hand clutched to his bleeding nose. The other, chest heaving, has an arm around Sirius, pulling the younger man against him. Sirius body is stiff, his face barely concealing his repulsion. Remus stiffens at the sight.
Then the injured man looks up, and a shudder runs down Lucas’s spine. He knows that look. That’s the look of a man shunned, a man used to getting what he wants suddenly denied, and a man who’s had far too much alcohol for other to be safe. His eyes glint with hatred, his lip curls. He fears back one fist, and throws it at the other man, right in the jugular.
Sirius disentangles himself, ducking out of the way as his captor(ish) stumbled back into the men behind him. They turn, beer spilled down plaid shirts, and punch back, pissed in every sense of the word. A moment later, and the whole bar has erupted in chaos.
And Sirius, if Lucas isn’t mistaken, is benefitting highly.
He slips in and out of the crush with panther-like agility, hands reaching into pockets, sly fingers unlatching clasps and hooks. Jewellery vanishes beneath his shirt, walked gone without the owners even noticing.
A loud shatter echoes through the bar as a glass is broken across someone’s head. Everywhere, people are yelling and throwing punches blindly, their original motivation long gone. All they have now is that classically dangerous mix of rage and rum burning through their blood, as they trash both Lucas’s bar and each others bodies.
Great.
Sirius, sensing that things have gotten out of hand even for him, dives under the thrush of bodies, making his way towards the bar. Lucas watches with disappointment as Remus visibly lights up at his presence, his whole body lifting and his eyes shining.
What happens next surprises Lucas. He’s been a bartender for years, and he’s seen everything. He can tell you exactly what kind of person each patron is from a mere look, he’ll even from just a name sometimes, so when something unexpected happens, it’s rare. This is something he definitely did not see coming: Sirius grabs Remus’ hand, pulling to his feet, and grins a look of pure, mischievous love. “Time to go.”
Remus’ smile broadens, and as he stands, he pulls a large rucksack over one shoulder. He slaps a bill onto the bar counter, nodding towards Lucas, but his eyes never leave Sirius.
Sirius tilts his head back, laughing, and pulls Remus towards the door. They move quickly, smoothly, despite having to leap over tables and dodge chairs across the room, or the occasional fist flying through the air. As they burst through the door and out into the open air, Lucas looks down at the bill.
It’s for one hundred dollars.
His eyebrows draw together in confusion, and as he slips it into the till, he notices Remus left soenthing else on the table. It seems to be a poster, and as Lucas lifts it to exam under the buzzing light above the bar, comprehension floods his brain.
Splashed large across the paper are two names: Lupin and Black. And plastered on the front are the faces of the two that just left the bar. Suddenly, he remembers a broadcast he’d heard just this morning on the radio, and promptly ignored. The two con artists, Lupin and Black, who were still on the run and highly wanted by police. Why, he’d been hearing their names for years now. The two most infamous criminals on the planet. Only now he had faces to match to the names.
And what beautiful faces they were.
Lucas supposed he should be grateful, really, that he survived the whole situation unscathed. The till is still full, and no guns were pointed, which is a win in his book. However, after a quick pat down, he realises what’s missing. He retrieves his wallet from his back pocket, and is scared to find it lighter than usual. Upon opening it, he finds it to be empty but for a small scrap of paper.
He unfolds it, and can’t help the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth. All it says is a simple ‘sorry’ with a pouty face drawn next to it in scrawny handwriting. He shakes his head fondly, and then tucks both the note and the empty wallet back into his pocket, patting it for safety. Not that there’s anything to keep safe now.
With a sigh, Lucas tosses the cleaning cloth over his shoulder, and returns his attention to the brawl in front of him. It’s time for him to get his bar back in control.