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Waylon never believed the day he heard those two special words. They had been imprinted upon his flesh since birth, a mark of his fate. His destiny and just the thought of finding out who's lips they fell from often led him to giddy bouts of 2am excitement in his youth. His high school years spent in anticipation of them. Burned into the back of his mind with the sweetest tone his imagination could conjure up. He often imagined the lovely girls he'd see around school would be the ones. When he moved on into his college years, those machinations increased into a little naughtier terrain which he'd shamefully engorge himself with wild fantasies. Of course none of this was known to others. Not even to his childhood friend and roommate Miles.
But now, six years after college graduation, he found himself sitting alone at the bar with nothing better to do on a Friday night except play wing-man for his best friend and babysit the rather unappetizing amount of alcohol he was already planning on downing in the next couple hours. Least of all was he expecting to hear those two words spoken tonight of all times. Or the fact the voice did not fall from plump cherry red lips or drip like honey from a tongue that's far too good at kissing to be considered their first time. No, those fated words came from the 6'8 behemoth of a man that had approached him from the bar. He wasn't a patron, oh no. He was dressed in formal attire as would dictate for the rather expensive establishment they were occupying.
That deep blue gaze drinking him in. The wild and wayward blonde locks that had been tousled into an unmanageable mess by the chilly autumn gusts outside. The way his navy blazer seemed a little too big on his shoulders and the white button up seemed dingy in the dull orange glow of the lamp light compared to the crisp pressed fabric of the larger male's uniform. The black tie and vest were immaculate and the white undershirt practically glowed in the darkness. A drink was placed before Waylon as the bartender greeted him. "Hello darling~"
Those two simple words fluttered into the closed space between them and snatched away whatever breath Waylon had in his chest. His heart thudded against his rib cage, the muscle beneath those inked words twitched in his arm, his fingers curling into a tight fist as his nerves ignited with rising anxiety. This was happening far quicker than he anticipated. His face flushed, easily passed off as intoxication but as their eyes met, he knew this was no mistake. This was the one.
“You look like a lightweight darling. Try not to over do it.” The bartender gave the smaller blonde a warm smile, their eyes meeting once more as he spoke, an almost amused smile spreading on his lips. “Careful, if you keep staring like that, I’ll have to charge you extra.” The tone was teasing and light hearted before the bartender turned away and headed back to the counter where he tended to a pair of patrons whose drinks were low but their conversation had apparently swept them away.
Waylon hadn't even realized he was staring so intently but then again, he couldn't stop himself from doing it. He bit the inside of his cheek hard, enough so that the pain would shock his already shocked mind to look away at his drink. He settled into a sheepish hunch over his drink, his fingers curling around the glass as he focused on the mixture in front of him. He didn't know what to say or even what to do.
Everything he had imagined of this day had come crashing down around him. He couldn't believe the turn of events. His destined one, his fated lover and life partner was a.... was a guy ? A rather charming one at that but Waylon had never been with another man before. He had always been a skirt chaser, often pairing up with Miles when he'd go out and prowl. Taking the targeted beauty of the night's friend and keeping them company. Though most of this either resulted in increasingly awkward conversation or some light hearted make out sessions. Often leading to a transfer of phone numbers and the occasional coffee date after that. They never lasted long. Maybe a couple weeks. Probably because Waylon was looking forward to the day he'd find his right one and the girls he'd come across always paled in comparison to the vision he concocted in his mind. But this time...this time it all was for naught. Because his soul mate was a few feet away and he was the complete opposite of what Waylon envisioned.
Yet instead of feeling horrified or wronged universally, he felt this odd twinge in his chest. His heart was racing so fast, he felt the heavy thumps against his rib cage. His palms were sweaty and the blazer felt far too warm suddenly. He didn't know if it was the alcohol, his nerves or this earth shattering revelation or maybe all of the above. All he knew, well, he found he didn't really know all that much as he first presumed.
He fiddled with the drink in hand, taking a few sips so as not to let it go to waste and humming softly at the complex flavors. It didn't taste boozy at all, the drink was a myriad of different fruits, a cocktail of sorts with vibrant colors and shaved ice. The cold drink was just the thing he needed to cool his head but booze was the last thing the already drunk male needed. Eddie was right about one thing, compared to Miles, Waylon was a lightweight. Half way through the drink he was leaning against the counter, one arm propped on the smooth polished wood surface and head held in his palm. His eyes closed as he roamed over the events in the last hour that led up to this interaction.
He silently cursed Miles for sneaking off to one of the private rooms the establishment provided upstairs. Many of their customers would reserve a room for the evening to better ‘get to know’ their partner for the evening. It made it sound far less vulgar. They also allowed rooms to be rented for those who were too drunk to drive or ended up passing out on the premises. They had a very strict no drinking and driving policy and made the attendants give up their keys to be locked up and stored behind the bar upon buying an alcoholic beverage. Unless they produce a designated driver. It was the owner’s idea to help promote responsible behavior. The establishment even offers a taxi service to be called, having a close knit relationship with the local company and there was always at least three taxi’s waiting outside on the curb for use by the inebriated patrons. One of which Waylon was contemplating hitting up if Miles didn’t come back soon.
Waylon hadn’t realized how long he had been resting like that, his head was spinning from the alcohol and his red face seemed to worsen with the growing heat behind his cheeks. A gloved hand touched his shoulder, ever so gently, drawing his dazed blue orbs to open and look up at the large figure. His eyes roamed over the name tag pinned into the front of the black vest, displaying the name ‘Eddie’. The male’s sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Waylon’s eyes looked past that to the bar behind the form for but a moment, noticing the pair that had been so deeply involved in conversation were long gone. The bar stools were tucked neatly under the counter and the glasses were all lined up and taken care of, washed for the night. The chairs at the other tables were already put up for the evening, showing the night was drawing to a close as was the shop hours.
His gaze flickered back to the figure, the insane height of the bartender caused him to crane his neck to meet the deep blue gaze. The action jarred Waylon’s impaired senses enough that he lost his balance and started to teeter back, sinking into the plump burgundy leather cushions of the booth. The rush of air rose up around him from his body weight pressing into it. The grip on his shoulder tightened momentarily as if the larger male was anticipating Waylon to fall out of the booth altogether. Though Waylon didn’t think he was that bad off.
“Darling, I think it’s about time you head home.” Eddie spoke softly, his eyes had softened. The earlier amusement had left it and Waylon noticed he appeared tired. The spark in those eyes that lured in patrons with such ease and the warmth that surrounded the man had faded from earlier. The facade had slipped away as the night neared it’s end. Waylon noted that each time the male spoke that pet name, the words engraved into his skin for life twitched with familiarity. He opened his mouth to speak but his words escaped his thoughts, never reaching the tip of his tongue.
He pushed himself up to his feet, filling the very small space left between the booth and Eddie’s broad chest. The hand on his shoulder held him firmly to keep Waylon from pitching forward and aid him in regaining his balance. His head leaned against Eddie’s shoulder, an action a more sober Waylon would have never done, especially to a stranger but right now it felt alright. He felt the male tense a little, obviously not expecting the close encounter but he didn’t push Waylon away either. The blonde closed his eyes and breathed out slowly. “Y-you were s-s-supposed to be dif-different.”
Eddie’s tense form increased as did his grip on Waylon. His other hand moved to grip Waylon’s shoulder so both were held within those large gloved hands. The soft black material that added the air of mystique to the whole outfit rubbed over the thick material of Waylon’s blazer. “What did you just say?” Eddie asked, the question was frantic, a rush from Eddie’s soft pink lips. They settled into a firm line as he awaited Waylon’s answer. Waylon’s head lolled, hanging once more as he was pushed to an upright position, no longer leaning on Eddie. His eyes were partially open, looking at absolutely nothing but his gaze seemed focused on the floor. Eddie hooked his fingered under Waylon’s chin, raising his gaze to meet Eddie’s.
The red rimming of those blue eyes made the blonde look even more pitiful. The alcohol was really doing a number on him, the bartender could tell right away. His speech was slurring and he struggled to form his words without stuttering and stumbling. “You….” He lingered. “sssuppose ta be differen’...” He tilted his head into Eddie’s hand and closed his eyes, letting the bartender’s palm cradle his head, less of a request in action but Waylon’s own desire to find something or someone to lean on. He was tired, it was late and Miles was supposed to be back by now. “But I don mind mmmuch. Hm, you er nice.”
“And you’re drunk darling. Come on, let’s get you a room.” Eddie sighed, looping an arm around Waylon’s torso and pulling him up closer to his body. He started to guide the inebriated male towards a set of stairs that led up to reserved rooms above. Eddie knew for a fact that at least one was currently free of use. Allowing Waylon a place to spend the night until he was more functional. Eddie wouldn’t worry about charging the blonde for the room since he had a personal investment in the situation now. He made it up two steps before a curse left his lips and he ended up just scooping the smaller male up into his arms bridal style. Not in the mood of practically dragging him all the way up.
The room was at the far end of the hall, opposite of the two flights of stairs that lead up and past the emergency fire escape near the stairwell leading outside. Often used by the smokers to be able to catch a break every few hours. Tonight it was closed up. There were six rooms in all in the upstairs. Five of them had signs on the doorknobs labeling them as ‘Occupied’ for the night.
The room that was left over was on the right side of the hall and was easily accessible using a sliding key card like the kind hotels often use. The door beeped and clicked open, allowing the large male to maneuver his way inside where a Queen size bed was. The bedding was white satin sheets with a plush white comforter on top. There was no television in the room since it wasn’t a hotel but a place their patrons could sleep off their booze or toss around in the sheets with a partner. The night stand had a small woven basket that held complimentary condoms and scented lubricant samples for use. Yet another of the owner’s attempts at promoting responsible behavior and habits. There was a bathroom as well but it was simple and small. Nothing too fancy and it didn’t have a shower or anything. Just a sink and toilet.
Eddie kicked the door shut behind himself and heard the beep signal it had locked as he carried Waylon over to the bed and deposited him onto the comforter. He worked the blazer off of his shoulders and his shoes as well before allowing the male to curl up on the bed. Not wanting the bedding ruined by dirty shoes and figuring the jacket would just get in the way. Waylon drew his knees part way up to his chest as his hands tucked the pillow closer to him, smushing it up into a fluffy blob. The male was barely awake but Eddie didn’t think to try and have any conversation with him. He sat on the edge of the bed on the opposite side from the male. His back to the blonde as he peeled his gloves off. Letting them settle into his lap as his left hand rose up in front of him.
His tired eyes inspected the dark inky lines imprinted into the back of his hand. They were more cleaned up and not slurred one bit but they were there. ‘You were supposed to be different.’ The words of his fated lover, his soul mate. For the longest time, he dreaded the context of those words. Feared what they would mean and the person he would be at the moment of their spoken origin. He was plagued with nightmares, stressing over those words to the point he chose to cover them every minute of every day. Being able to work at a place where the gloves were part of the outfit was a plus.
He breathed a sigh of relief though. His head tipped back as he let all those fears wash away. He was still worried how this would turn out. They were fated after all but that didn’t mean things would turn out for the best. Not every destined pairing stayed together. Some people choose to follow their own hearts and their fate but hearing those words set off a chain of events inside him. His heart spiked and thundered in his chest. A warmth spread throughout his body and he found it hard to think suddenly. It was as if a shock went through him. The small blonde wasn’t exactly the type he often found company in. He had more exotic taste so to speak but his social skills, despite his job, were often lacking and he came off as cold or scary. He could only maintain his professional facade for so long and that was what many people fell in love with so when they saw the real him, the lure and mystique would leave and with it, their interest and love. If he could even call it that.
He heard a soft sound come from Waylon’s lips and turned to see the male mumbling something in his sleep. His lips moving but only the occasional sound would come. He would shift in place, his arms unfurling from his curled position to stretch out as if reaching for something far away. Eddie glanced at the white button up, seeing the cuff riding up Waylon’s forearm. Something dark peeked out from the edge, drawing the male’s interest. He turned his body more on the bed and leaned over to slide his thumb over the buttons on the wrists of the sleeve. The fabric slipped free with ease allowing Eddie to roll the edges up until his words were exposed to the open air. ‘Hello Darling’
The phrase was so simple. So normal in Eddie’s everyday routine. It was how he spoke and how he greeted the patrons. It made them comfortable and put them at ease with a welcoming atmosphere. He never really thought of it as much except his generic greeting when tending to others. It was like his signature phrase but he didn’t think it would find him his fated lover. His fingertips trailed over the inky black words inscribed into soft pale flesh. Gingerly dancing over the elegantly written markings. They were so beautiful in his eyes. So unique and simply gorgeous. He never thought two words could look as such. Especially not when it’s a phrase he’s been saying his entire life. This gave it a whole new meaning to Eddie. Made it even more special then he could have anticipated.
His fingers trailed from those letters down to the inside of Waylon’s wrist. His blue orbs flickering up to the blonde’s face when he heard another soft sound escape. Waylon remained still, his lips moving before his expression relaxed. Eddie held his touch right at the dip of Waylon’s wrist, feeling the pulse fluttering underneath his fingertips. His own heart leaping with joy as the pad of his fingers ran up the life lines in Waylon’s open palm. Following them up to where his fingers spread out. Eddie’s palm slid up against Waylon’s, dwarfing the male’s in his own. Ever so gently, he pressed their palms together, spreading his own fingers and curling them to slot with the blonde’s. Waylon shifted in place on the bed, once lying on his side facing Eddie, his body twisted so his waist up had turned over to be on his back. His eyes still closed, facing the ceiling but his hand remained in Eddie’s. His fingers slowly bending to clasp lazily over the bartender’s own.
Eddie felt a rush of excitement, a jolt of energy riding up his arm and nestle right in the center of his chest. A giddy fluttery feeling overwhelming him and infesting his insides in an uncharacteristic manner. In ways Eddie never thought he would feel. He had always assumed the ways people describe things such as fate and love in novels or movies was over used, cliche and all around nonsense. Yet, being here, now, with the smaller male curled up at his side. He could only find a few words to describe these feelings. The thrill that electrified his heart and stirred up a storm of emotions that overwhelmed his senses. That melted that cold demeanor that normally filled the emptiness behind his daily mask. He could only find one that made the most sense of all and that summed it all up perfectly. And that was fate, as cliche as that sounds.