Work Text:
Till had been working at this bar for a while now, approaching three years. For all of those three years, he had been pining over a waitress—that waitress being Mizi. However, recently his life was turned upside down. He had worked up the confidence to ask her out, but she had rejected him. He had stood there blushing, fiddling with his fingers, and stammering like a dumbass, and she had said to him, ‘sorry Till, but I’m a lesbian.’ Even if she had seemed truly apologetic, it still made Till every time he thought back to that moment.
So now, he had little to no reason to go to work. The only reasons he had stayed that long were that Mizi was there, and that the pay was good, at least for a bartender. But he couldn’t just quit because of this minor inconvenience, that would—arguablybe more embarrassing than being rejected.
One thing Till had noticed recently was that the new bouncer—Alan? Arlan? Ivan? Till didn’t care enough to learn—had been staring at him when nobody was trying to enter. Not even trying to hide it, just blatantly staring. Honestly? It was a little creepy. He didn’t even look away when Till met his eyes.
✰
Today was just another day. Till showed his ID to the bouncer—the new hire—and clocked in, walking over to the bar. He picked up his apron and put it over his head, proceeding to tie it behind his back. It was a soft off-grey with a slight hue of red apron with the name of the bar printed across the front pocket in black vinyl. He wore it over his uniform, a simple short-sleeved black button up that was missing the top two buttons and straight-leg black jeans.
After putting on his apron, he started taking orders from people, exchanging a few words with sufficiently drunk patrons and half listening to their drunken ramblings. He heard a story about how a man's wife cheated on him with his brother, how someone's boyfriend had just ‘died’ and how they found out he wasn’t actually dead, and how someone had just committed a crime. That last one concerned Till the most, causing him to go into the back to call the police. They came in and ushered the woman out, she was too drunk to put up a fight.
When nobody was ordering, he worked on making new drink combinations. As much as he hated dealing with patrons, he loved using his creativity to make new drinks and cocktails to serve. He loved making the drinks, watching the delighted expression on peoples faces as they tried his newest creations, and most of all, he loved being able to express himself in a way that other people could enjoy.
He had tried numerous other forms of expression; painting, sketching, cooking or baking, and music. The only one—other than making drinks—that had called to him was music. He kept his guitar at home and played it whenever he wasn’t busy. He made his own music, he played other peoples music, he did anything he fucking wanted to and nobody could stop him. It couldn’t hurt anyone, therefore he had no reason to stop.
Three hours of making drinks, talking to people, and brainstorming new drinks passed. It was the same as every other day, until it wasn’t. Till was minding his own business, leaning against the bar and holding his notebook, sketching out a new cocktail—one he called ‘Dreamlight Tango’—when someone sat down behind him.
Till turned around after placing his notebook and pencil under the bar. He put a customer service smile on his face and spoke, “hey there, how can I help y-” his voice cut off as he opened his eyes and low and behold, there he was. The new bouncer. He was sitting with his gloved fingers intertwined underneath his chin, his pale face resting on his hands. Washing over Till was the bouncer's piercing gaze. He was already staring, heck, he was always staring.
His bottomless obsidian eyes bore into Till's soul, making him feel uneasy—his constant stare was more unnerving than Till wished to admit. His customer service smile fell almost immediately in shock. He was silent for a minute, before regaining his wits and snapping, harsher than he intended to, “aren’t you supposed to be y’know,” he gestured to where the other bouncers were stationed with his head, “out there?”
The bouncer laughed softly, his short ebony hair bouncing slightly, “I start work earlier than you, so I’m off earlier than you,” he quipped, the small smirk that was always on his face remaining. Till couldn’t help his ears becoming a soft shade of pink in embarrassment, “Right…” he started playing with his fingers under the bench, before regaining his—once again stolen—wits. “Well, what can I get you, new guy?”
“Ivan,” the bouncer corrected, thinking for a moment before replying, “I’ll have whatever you were just thinking up, from the sketch it looked pretty good.” Till nodded, slightly stoked that he already had someone to try his new drink.
He stepped away and began to grab the equipment he needed to make the drink; a cocktail shaker, a bar strainer, a bar spoon, a tall Collins glass, a jigger, and a cocktail pick, as well as the ingredients.
He was completely in the zone, adding ice, vodka, lime juice, and blue curaçao, shaking it vigorously. He used the strainer to pour the liquid over fresh ice in the Collins glass, before adding the sparkling tonic over the top. He topped it with the blackberry liqueur, the dark liquid leeching into the electric blue drink, creating reaching stripes down the glass.
He topped the glass with a lime wheel, before sliding it down the bench all anime style, one long, dramatic, glide towards Ivan—who caught it and took a big swig. He held the cocktail in his mouth for a moment, before swallowing with a gulp. He nodded, a satisfied hum escaping his lips as a small, almost unnoticeable smile formed on his face.
“That’s quite good, actually. The blackberry adds a nice depth,” Ivan praised, taking another—smaller—sip, leaving a faint mark where his lips were. Till felt an unbidden heat crawl up the back of his neck, secretly pleased at the compliment. He muttered a small thanks and wrote down what he did in the notebook. He began calculating what the price should be and making up a description for the menu.
Since he was the Beverage Director of this institute, he could add things whenever he pleased. He added so many things so often practically half of the menu were his creations, though nobody really cared. If they complained, he was open to reasoning and some suggestions.
The music blared loudly in the background, the sounds of conversation flowing throughout the room, creating a fun, electric vibe. Spotlights shone onto the stage, shining in numerous colours. LED lights trailed across the deep purple walls in stripes, stretching up, down, and across. Other than the stage lights and LEDs, no other lights were present. The room was dim, yet crackled with energy and joy.
Till hated having to talk to patrons, but oh how he loved everything else. The environment was immaculate, the job was fun, and he got to listen in on interesting stories. This would be the perfect job if he didn’t have to talk to the patrons too—but you can’t have everything.
The small clink of ice hitting the side of a glass caught Till's attention, drawing his gaze up. It was Ivan taking another sip. Holding the glass in his left hand, Ivan adjusted his collar, undoing the first button, uttering something about ‘how unbearably hot it was in here’, but in Till's opinion, it was far too cold.
Ivan finished the drink quicker than Till had expected, finished before he could even finish pricing and making a description. Till raised one eyebrow at Ivan, but said nothing.
The night went by uneventfully, Ivan ordering several more of the same drink, exchanging pleasant small talk, which mostly consisted of Ivan answering questions Till hadn’t asked. Then he realised that this was his chance to finally get an answer to his question.
The words left Till’s lips without thinking, “so, why do you stare at me so often? Seems like you’re always looking,” Ivan seemed to be taken by surprise, hiccuping once before answering, “it’s fascinating to watch you work.”
His answer had shocked Till a little to say the least, it was as simple as that? Truly? Now Till felt like an idiot, he really thought that Ivan was staring because he was… interested.
Though, who would be interested? He’d always been labelled as the ‘ugly one’, watching all his friends and coworkers get hit on at least once. Even at school, all his friends got dates to prom, and he got nothing. They got valentines cards, he didn't. He always just stood to the side and watched. Was he jealous? It was only just hitting him now that… he might be jealous.
Eventually, Ivan tried to leave, but was too drunk to walk properly. He stumbled and fell over, almost landing flat on his face but—luckily for him—Till managed to grab his collar in time and stopped him from toppling.
He shook his head and called someone over to escort him out. Only after Ivan left did Till realise thatIvan hadn’t paid his tab.
✰
The next day as Till was pulling his ID out to show to Ivan—stupidly enough, it was a company rule, even if you’d been working there for years like Till had—he brought up what happened last night.
“You didn’t pay your tab last night, don’t think I’m letting you get away with that. If it’s not settled by midnight, I’ll…” he trailed off, he hadn’t planned what to say before he spoke, “I haven’t figured that out yet, but I’ll do something.”
Ivan ran his eyes over Tills ID, before handing it back with a shrug, “I’ll be back tonight, I fear I might be slightly addicted… to the drink, of course,” he said confidently and smoothly, a smirk tugging at his lips. Till couldn’t help but glance at his snaggletooth, before returning his gaze back to his ID. He nodded, and grabbed his ID from Ivan's hand.
Till walked into the bar, the door shutting behind him with a quiet thud, shutting out the subtle moonlight radiating onto the late night scenery. Now it was back to the electric atmosphere of the bar.
The moment the clock struck 11:30PM, Ivan strolled through the doors. He sat down at the same bar stool as yesterday, the one at the very edge, closest to the door. He shrugged off his heavy, black, blazer and removed his earpiece, turning it off and shoving it into his pocket.
Till caught his eyes and nodded at him in a way that conveyed ‘I’ll be with you in a minute’, he was too occupied with a customer at the moment. She was very obviously hitting on him, and Till knew it would be bad for the reputation of the bar to walk away without a reason.
The blonde lady happened to glance in Ivan's direction, only to look back at Till immediately after, a mildly panicked glint in her eye. She handed Till a slip of paper, paid her tab, and left. She sure left suddenly. She didn’t even bother to count her payment correctly, giving him twenty dollars too much.
Till looked back at Ivan and noticed him sitting completely still, that scary bouncer glare on his face. His eyes tracked the lady as she left, a dark aura practically emanating from him. Till’s eyes left him and drew back to the slip the woman handed him.
Till unfolded the yellowed paper, and in loopy handwriting was written ‘call me, handsome.’ underneath was—what Till would assume to be—her phone number. A small, pleased smile played on his lips, it was his first time being hit on, and by a pretty girl nonetheless.
Till shook his head and put the note into his pocket, walking over to Ivan. “So,” he began, getting straight to the point, “are you gonna start a new tab? Or are you going to add onto your old one?” Ivan thought for a moment, weighing out his options, before responding, “I’ll add onto my old one. Easier for me.”
Till nodded and added a small—but petty—gratuity fee from last night to his previous tab, “so what can I get ‘cha?” he asked, rinsing out his cocktail shaker and preparing to make a new drink. Automatically, Ivan responded, “same as last night, Bartender.”
Till nodded, pulling out the vodka and lime juice along with the other ingredients, before adding on, “just call me Till, it’s easier if there's two bartenders like there are right now.” he gestured to his fellow bartender, Hyuna, with his head. Across the bar, Hyuna flashed a sharp grin at him, giving him a lazy thumbs up, noticing his gesture.
“Till, huh?” Ivan murmured, testing the name out on his tongue, almost as if he was tasting it.
Out of the corner of his eye, Till noticed Ivan lick his bottom lip. Till continued watching and was surprised to see a slight pinkness gracing Ivan's pale face as Ivan muttered something inaudible under his breath. A faint leer formed on Ivan's face as he glanced in Till's direction once more. Till quickly drew his eyes away, a traitorous heat creeping up his neck.
Till only spared a thought or two for the gesture, was Ivan into him? Like in that way? A leer like that usually meant desire. Lust. No, definitely not. Till scolded internally, jerking himself into action, sharply and aggressively shaking the cocktail shaker. He was reading too far into it. A guy like Ivan wouldn’t get flustered over something so small like a name.
Till served up the cocktail, it looked messier than yesterday. The stripes were wavy, bleeding into the blue liquid, the lime slice sat crooked on the rim of the glass. Everything that could make it look bad had happened. Ivan didn’t seem to mind, looking at him with a small, knowing smile, taking a small sip. He let it sit in his mouth for a moment, before swallowing, maintaining unbroken eye-contact with Till all the while.
Of course he did, Ivan was always looking at him. He said it’s because he finds Till’s work ‘satisfying’ to watch, but there's something else behind those eyes. Something that Till couldn’t figure out quite yet—and things that Till couldn’t figure out unnerved him.
Ivan unnerved him.
His all knowing stare, the way he grinned like he could see into Tills soul, like he could read Tills innermost thoughts. It unnerved him, but it also infuriated him. He could drive Till crazy with one single glance, the way he could send his ability to perform basic tasks crashing down in a burning heap.
Till broke eye contact with Ivan and turned sharply to a different customer—a pretty brunette—and took her order, desperately attempting to regain his composure. She ordered a classic dry gin martini, a suitable choice for a lady as classy as her. It was simple to make and he had it served up in a minute.
The lady, sipping on her martini smiled at him, “thanks, handsome~”
Another compliment? What was going on today? Before Till could process anything, she grabbed his wrist and placed a slip of paper with her number on it into his palm. He blinked in surprise, “call me,” she murmured, winking at him.
Till went back to Ivan, who had already finished his drink, and noticed his eyebrow twitch imperceptibly. “I’ll have another Dreamlight Tango,” Ivan started, a sharp, almost possessive, edge to his voice, “and let me see those two slips of paper, please.” He added on, the addition of please seemed less like a request than it was an order.
Till staggered for a moment, but handed over the two slips, watching carefully as Ivan scanned his eyes over the two, comparing them. “Tsk.” Ivan clicked his tongue, crunching up the notes in his gloved hand and chucking it behind him carelessly in a fluid movement.
“Why did you do that?!” Till exclaimed in a mild panic. Two pretty ladies had given him their numbers, and Ivan threw them away. He was about to scramble to pick them up when Ivan shot his arm out in front of Till, pinning him firmly in his place behind the bar. “It’s a scam.” Ivan grumbled, a dark scowl on his face. “Same numbers, different girls. Number leads to a trap line that flags your info to local enforcement—claims you're stalking the clientele or some other stupid lie to extort and or shut down the venue.” Ivan grumbled, a dark scowl on his face.
Till’s heart dropped into his stomach.
A scam?
They were going to lie and tell the police he was a creep and a stalker?
Till shook his head, though he wasn’t able to hide the slight tinge of sadness in his eyes, “thanks, Ivan…” he muttered, turning his back to Ivan and grabbing the vodka, beginning to make his drink. Of course it was fake. What girl would want to ask an angry, rough around the edges, and most of all ugly boy like him out? He should’ve known better by now than to have let his guard down like that.
Hearing the defeat in Till's voice, Ivan sighed, reaching into his breast pocket and pulling out a blank slip of paper, “lend me a pen, would you?”
Confused and dejected, Till handed him a pen from next to his notebook under the bar. Ivan scrawled a number onto the paper gracefully and slid it across the sticky counter to Till, “here’s a real one. Hit me up anytime you need to talk, Till.” Ivan said smoothly, a small polite smile gracing his lips.
Till’s eyes widened slightly as he held the slip of paper in his hand, his eyes scanning over the number slowly. Well, this wasn’t how he expected today to go. His ears turned violently cherry red as he stumbled over his words, “I- uh, thank you?” he muttered, he really didn’t know what to say or why his heart was hammering against his ribs faster than it ever had. Ivan merely nodded and took a sip of the drink Till had set down only seconds ago.
Out of the corner of his eye, Till saw Hyuna frantically waving him over from across the other end of the bar. Till mumbled a quick incoherent apology and bolted off to Hyuna quicker than he probably should’ve.
Hyuna’s easygoing but confident smile widened to a Cheshire Cat-esque grin, “you’re oddly flustered, Till,” she teased, prodding his chest with her right index finger playfully.
Till's mind raced trying to come up with an excuse, but before he could say anything in defense, Hyuna shushed him.
“If ‘ya need a breather, I’m happy to take over his tag for a while,” she offered, shaking a cocktail mixer in a relaxed manner. Till shook his head before thinking, words leaving his lips slightly too fast, “no! No, it’s alright, Hyuna. I'll… I'll be fine. I've got it.”
Hyuna raised an eyebrow at his fast reaction, but shooed him away, “go on then, don’t say I've never done nothin for ‘ya,” she returned to her patrons and Till strolled back to Ivan. Once he arrived, he found he was quite thankful for the very small breather Hyuna gave him. His heart wasn’t hammering anymore, and he was a bit more composed.
To Till’s—obvious—surprise, Ivan had already finished his drink. He’d only been gone for around a minute, and that 6-inch glass was already empty? “Another one? Or are you finally going to try something else?” Till asked, grabbing his cocktail shaker out from under the bar once again. Ivan shook his head, “nah, I’ve had one too many. I’ll settle this tab and go home,” he responded, drunkenly fumbling to grab his card out of his pocket. How could this man be both so elegant yet so sloppy?
Till pulled out the card reader and held it out, letting Ivan scan his card. Once it had registered, Till put it back and watched as Ivan stood up, picking up his blazer from the floor. Ivan gave him a quick wave goodbye and pulled out his phone to call a taxi, he truly was a responsible man. Till’s eyes trailed after Ivan, lingering on the doors after he left.
After his shift was over, he hung up his apron and left quickly. He walked back to his apartment—which was only a block away—in silence, paying attention to his surroundings. It was dark and bad things had happened in these streets. He made it home and unlocked the door, before closing the door behind him and flopping down on his bed.
He had a small apartment with a kitchen, a bedroom/main room area and a bathroom in a separate room. It was always dark in there, as there were bare bulbs that were low on power, the bed was suspiciously lumpy, and the blankets were ratty. Despite how horrible it was, T ill didn’t actually hate it. He was barely in here and it had what he needed, in his opinion that was a win.
Till stood back up and emptied his pockets so he could get changed into his pajamas. Going through his side table, he noticed the only clean set he had were the fluffy, hello-kitty pajamas Hyuna got him as a joke around a year ago. As much as he hated to admit it, they were super comfortable. He got changed into them and sat back down, kicking his work clothes to the side, hitting the beanbag chair in the corner.
He placed his hand to the side, landing on a slip of paper. The slip of paper Ivan had given him. Without really thinking, he picked it up and typed the number into his phone after unlocking it. He typed out a message, his thumbs moving without his permission.
Texting with Ivan (SMS/MMS)
---------------------------
Hey Ivan, it’s Till.
Hello, Till. the rest of your shift went okay, I trust?
Yeah, thanks.
You responded quicker than I expected. Can’t sleep?
Nope, so many ideas, not enough time.
Fair enough, what’re you having ideas about?
Not much, just some random stray thoughts based on hobbies.
I might go try to sleep now, you should try and get some rest too.
Good night, Till.
Yeah… Night.
---------------------------
Well that didn’t go exactly how Till had expected. He really didn’t think Ivan would be awake this early in the morning, though, now that he thought about it it was sunrise. He always got home just before 7AM, so he slept most of the day.
He put his phone on to charge and turned his light off. He laid his head on the pillow and slowly drifted off.
✰
For the next few days, work had been the same as usual. Make drinks, talk to patrons, get teased relentlessly by Hyuna, and serve drinks to Ivan. However, something new had been added to his routine; texting Ivan. When he got home from work, he’d text Ivan—who’d respond within seconds.
He’d sit there on his beanbag and have a short conversation, before going to bed. Just short, casual conversations before sleep, but they were absolutely ruining Till’s state of mind. He thought about Ivan more than he’d ever admit out loud, and had started spending more time with him. He found himself looking forward to when the clock struck 11:30, excited to see Ivan sit down and shrug off that blazer. He enjoyed their conversations, the smoothness of Ivan's voice, and the fact that Ivan was caring towards him, even if only a little. Ivan looked out for him.
And the worst part? Till was losing a battle. He’d been battling… feelings for Ivan. Like… those feelings. Romantic feelings. The kind that made his heart hammer in his chest, that made his chest tighten and his thoughts spiral whenever Ivan looked at him. To think that only a week ago, he had thought Ivan was a creepy weirdo—and now, the mere thought of him left Till flustered.
Now, Till was standing behind the bar, watching out of the corner of his eye as Ivan shrugged off his blazer. Once again, he was dealing with a customer at the moment so he wasn’t able to greet Ivan just yet. Finishing making the drink felt like it took an eternity, and with every second longer it took, the harder and faster Till’s heart thudded. After what felt like a millennia, he finished serving the man and was able to go over to Ivan.
Till gave him a casual wave, evicting a small smile from Ivan, “the usual?” Till asked, he had managed to get the hang of pretending like he wasn’t crashing and burning on the inside. Ivan nodded in response, his obsidian hair bouncing at the motion. Till had made this drink nearly a hundred times because of this one man, so he could make it without even having to measure.
Within minutes, he had the drink finished and served, despite his shaky hands, the presentation was clean and elegant, not a bubble out of place. Ivan took a sip, leaving a small condensation mark where his lips had been. “Have you ever even tried this drink?” Ivan asked, swirling the blue and deep purple liquids together absentmindedly with his cocktail pick, his eyes fixated on Till.
Till paused, a clean glass halfway dried in his hands. He sighed and shook his head, “nope, I don’t drink on the job.”
A small smirk took place on Ivan's face as he slid the glass towards Till without a word, tipping his head forward in a way that spoke thousands of words, most of them being “go on.”
Till picked up the glass and held it up to the wall light, his throat going dry. Should he do this? Was he even allowed to drink on the job? Surely it’d be fine if it was only a small sip, right? Till's eyes drew to the faint, crescent mark from where Ivan had taken a sip.
Till’s brain screamed at him not to, grab a straw, to turn it down, to do ANYTHING but drink from it. But Till’s feelings had gotten the better of him. It was like he’d taken a backseat in his brain and his actions were moving on autopilot. Without his own permission, he rotated the glass subtly and took a small sip, his lips resting exactly where Ivan's had.
It was delicious.
The drink was delicious.
It was the best thing Till had ever made—and it would be his undoing.
The blue curaçao had a sharp citrusy taste, combating with the sharp, medicinal burn of the vodka to create an electric experience. The blackberry liqueur added a layer of deep, tart class to the drink that combatted the vibrancy of the rest. The tonic added a bitter undertone to the cocktail, balancing everything out.
He placed the glass down and nodded, pretending he hadn’t done anything. Pretending that he didn't just…
Oh my god.
OH MY GOD
Till’s heart dropped as the realisation slammed into him like a brick wall… he had just shared an indirect kiss. An indirect kiss with Ivan.
His face flushed vivid pink and he felt that traitorous, thrilling warmth creeping up his neck, Ivan clearly noticed this, indicated by the way he raised an eyebrow. “You good there, Till?” he asked, his tone dripping with mock-concern. Till thought for a moment, before responding, “yeah… I’m fine… I just feel a little sick…” he murmured, beginning to walk over to the bathrooms, “I’ll be back in a few…”
The butterflies in his stomach were going wild. They were fluttering so wildly his throat tightened. He felt like he was going to throw up, but he wasn’t. He was just so incredibly flustered. He stood in front of the bathroom mirror, clutching the edge of the porcelain sink, turning the tap on and splashing water onto his burning face.
What had gotten into him?! He had intentionally shared an indirect kiss with Ivan! He obviously doesn’t share your feelings, Till! Why would you do that?!
He clapped his hands against his flushed cheeks, trying to get himself back to normal. His thoughts were disrupted as the heavy groan of the door opening rang through the silent, empty restroom. He looked at the door out of the corner of his eye, only to spot Ivan making his way over to him, the door shutting behind him with a click.
Till watched as Ivan leaned over the bench beside him, hands clasped together with his elbows resting on the edge of the black stone. Ivan tilted his head over to look at him, his dark eyes looking into Till’s green eyes, “you doing okay?” Ivan asked, his voice dripping with actual, genuine concern.
Till shook his head, the blush on his cheeks intensifying, “no. No I’m not,” he snapped, the panic causing him to be overly honest, “and I blame you, Ivan.”
Ivan's eyes widened, but narrowed back to normal straight after, “and why’s that?” he inquired, a smirk taking form on his face. Or was it a leer? Till didn’t know anymore, and he didn’t care; he was about to explode and Ivan was going to have to take it like a man. Till’s ‘sickness’ was entirely the bouncers fault anyways.
“Because,” he started, his voice unusually quiet, “you’re breaking my brain. It’s ruining me, Ivan. I can never tell if you’re into me, or if you’re just naturally a flirty bastard!” he took a sharp breath, the sound of water flowing filling the heavy silence. “You’ve made me realise something about myself that even I wouldn't have guessed! It’s killing me!” he exclaimed. Overwhelmed, he took a few steps back, leaning against the door of the stall behind him. He let out a ragged sigh, placing a hand over his burning face.
“So, tell me Ivan. Do you like me or not?! Am I just delusional?! It’s driving me insane not knowing, I swear!” Ivan was silent, Till didn’t look—his eyes were shut, bracing for another embarrassing rejection.
But, one never came. Instead, he felt a cool leather glove slip under his chin, tilting his head up. Then, warm, demanding lips were placed on his own. Till’s eyes snapped open immediately in shock, being met face to face with Ivan.
Till was completely enveloped in Ivan’s scent and the sudden, overwhelming heat of the kiss. After a few agonisingly short, perfect seconds, Ivan pulled away. Though, he wasn’t away for long. Till wasn’t letting him escape that easily.
As Ivan parted his lips to speak, Till reached out and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt firmingly, pulling him down into another, deeper, more passionate kiss.
When they finally broke away from each other to breathe, Ivan was able to say what he went to say earlier. He leaned in closer, lips to Till’s ear, “take a wild guess.”
Till laughed breathily, his knuckles still white as he clutched Ivan's collar in his hand, “I’ll take that as a reciprocation?" Ivan nodded, a pleased smirk taking its seat on his lips as he slowly traced a gloved thumb over Till’s wet lower lip.
The heat in the room was getting unbearable, causing Till to finally break. Keeping his grip on Ivan’s collar, he dragged him into the open stall behind them, kicking the door closed behind them. He wasted no time, pushing Ivan against the metal door, wrapping his arms around the bouncer's neck to pull him back down into another frantic, messy kiss.
Ivan didn’t waste any time either, placing his gloved hands on Till’s waist, sliding one under his shirt. To his obvious frustration, he couldn’t feel the warmth of Till’s skin through his glove, so in the middle of their desperate kiss, Ivan took off his gloves behind Till’s back, dropping them onto the floor. His hands immediately made their way back to Till’s waist, finally able to feel his skin.
The warm, passionate moment was interrupted by someone opening the door. The familiar click of heels made them pause, “yo, you good in here Till? We’re getting absolutely SLAMMED out here and I need you ba—” Hyuna’s familiar voice cut out as she stopped in front of their stall, obviously seeing the two pairs of legs visibly crowded together under the stall.
Till and Ivan tried to quiet their ragged breathing, but it was too late. Hyuna let out a loud, amused whistle, chuckling slightly. “Nevermind, just go home, Till. I'll cover your shift—just don’t screw up the bathrooms.”
Till waited for the door to click behind her, resting his head on Ivan’s chest. “She’s right,” he muttered, his voice deeper and slightly gravelly, “let’s go. My apartment.”
Within ten minutes, they had made it out the back exit of the establishment, walked ‘round the block in a tense, longing silence, and arrived at Till’s apartment. Till unlocked the door to his dim apartment and they stepped in the door, not bothering to turn on the bare bulbs. He kicked the door closed behind them and fumbled with the lock, throwing himself straight back into Ivan’s arms immediately after.
They tumbled blindly in the darkness, hitting kitchen countertops, walls, shoes, everything. After a bunch of blind stumbling they found the bed and collapsed on top of each other on Till’s lumpy mattress, completely consumed by each other.
✰
Till awoke in the morning, a sharp pain in his back and legs, resting on Ivan’s chest. Despite the pain, he felt fulfilled and most of all… happy.