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Brock had decided to go out for the night when Doc and the boys were in for the night at the penthouse. He was driving, a little aimlessly, around the city. It was a rare habit of his--doing anything without a clear plan in mind. Brock, if anything, was used to unfamiliar situations.
It was a good explanation for why he was in a gay bar alone on his free time, for the hell of it. He ordered a whiskey neat, scarfing it down in one swallow. He looked to his right, and saw a familiar face right next to him. He'd expect to see some eye candy next to him or something like that.
"If it isn't the man himself, the Brockstar. Didn't expect to see you in a place like this." Shoreleave circled his finger around his martini glass, looking pleasantly surprised.
Of course Shoreleave was at a gay bar, but Brock didn't expect Shoreleave to be there at the same time as Brock.
"Just trying something different, I guess. Been a while, hasn't it?" Brock turned his head a few inches to look at the other man next to him.
"It has, it has." Shoreleave agreed, nodding his head. He drummed his fingers against the bar counter, looking pleasantly interested.
"Surprised you're out here alone. You still with Al?" Brock wasn't the type to ask personal questions so early, but he supposed he was trying a lot of new things tonight.
"We didn't work out. He couldn't be what I wanted, and so on.. you know." Shoreleave waved a hand, resting one on the side of his face. "It wasn't on bad terms, so that's a good thing."
Brock nodded, gesturing the bartend for another drink. Another glass of whiskey was slid in front of him.
"So..still working for Dr. Venture?" Shoreleave asked, circling his finger around his martini glass.
"Yeah, that hasn't changed. Too late for anything else." Brock snorted quietly.
"You're attached to that man by the hip, aren't you?" Shoreleave smirked.
"Look, Shoreleave, Doc and I couldn't work out even if I tried. I'm not what he wants, and I don't want us to be experiments on each other, especially if I work for him, and all that shit."
"I was waiting for when you were over him, you know. Hearing you talk about that man was exhausting."
"Fuck off, won't you?"
There was a few moments of silence between them, before they began talking more as the drinks started to flow more. Brock had a buzz in him, Shoreleave did too.
"Remember that time? Where I dressed up as you? And I was like, 'I'm Brock Samson, I wish I could be Brock Samson!'" Shoreleave laughed, a drunk giggle with a slurred cadence.
"And remember when I was like, 'rock beats everything', cause I wanted the mission trap." Brock agreed with a laugh of his own.
"So you weren't even serious about what you were saying?"
"Hell no, who even plays rock paper scissors like that?"
"You're so full of shit, Brockodile.
"Fuck off, Shoreleave."
Shoreleave went on talking about some other shared memory between them, and he leaned over to the side a bit, seemingly about to lose his balance. Brock instinctively wrapped his arm around the man's waist in an attempt to steady him.
"You good?" Brock asked, looking mildly concerned.
"Yeah. You caught me. Don't let go."
Brock felt a jolt of surprise from Shoreleave's words. He hadn't expected his friend to hit on him so...blatantly. Maybe it was the whiskey talking, but he didn't exactly hate it. Brock wasn't entirely straight, but he wasn't exclusively gay either. Shoreleave had been his friend for a long time, and he'd be lying if the man's looks hadn't caught his eye for a while.
The two men stared at each other for a while. Shoreleave's hand brushed Brock's, just barely, as if testing the waters. Brock's hand didn't move in return. In fact, he held the other man's hand in return.
It was all a blur of alcohol and an odd warm feeling on two mouths. Brock had been with a lot of women, so of course he knew how to kiss, but it felt different. Shoreleave and Brock were more similar in size, so it was like their mouths fit against each other. Brock Samson hadn't outright kissed another man in this context, so it left him with a rare awkward feeling in his gut.
Shoreleave, of course, got this immediately, and dialed back.
"Brock, I am so sorry, um.. the gin. Can we pretend I didn't just...do that?" Shoreleave spoke quickly, shaking his head, looking as if he was about to stand up.
Brock grasped Shoreleave's wrist, shaking his head.
"No, it's...fine. We can try it again, just..slower."
Shoreleave looked relieved, mostly, and surprised. He slowly put his hand on Brock's neck, leaning in slowly. He closed his eyes, pressing Brock's lips to his once more. It was more relaxed, and a lot less nervous than the last. Once he pulled away, he went silent for a moment.
"How was that?" Shoreleave asked, tentatively.
"I think I liked it."