Chapter Text
With a last nervous exhale of breath, Timothée entered the bar. A catchy song was blasting through the speakers, but it was quiet and he liked it. It was still early and he planned on leaving before it got crowded. He just wanted to have a drink and clear his mind. There were three older men at the bar, chugging beer and laughing loudly. The girl behind the counter was polishing glasses and smiled politely at him as he took a seat at the other end, far away from the obnoxious group of men.
“What can I get you, honey?”
“Ehm, j-just a beer, please,” Timothée stuttered, feeling annoyingly insecure. The girl gave him another smile, before leaving to fix his drink. Timothée started fiddling with his curls, twirling the chocolate brown strands around his fingers as he observed his surroundings. There was a small group - of what looked like - businessmen, gathered around a table in the far corner of the bar and two younger guys were happily chatting away at another table, but other than that it was pretty deserted.
“Here you go, sweetie.” The girl behind the bar put his beer in front of him and went back to the other end of the bar with a wink. Timothée sipped his drink and sighed as the alcoholic beverage slid down his throat, slightly burning his esophagus. He really needed this, to forget everything for a while and just focus on himself.
He closed his eyes for a second and hummed along with the music, finally feeling somewhat relaxed.
His day had been a rough one. All he had wanted to do when he had woken up that morning, was call his mother and wish her a happy birthday. When his brain finally caught up with his awakening body and he realized that he hadn’t been able to do that in years, his eyes had clouded over with unshed tears. Making his way to the kitchen while wiping at his watery eyes, he had started the coffeepot with the same realization as every morning. I am nineteen years old and I’m alone.
Needless to say, Tim’s day hadn’t gotten any better ever since and he really needed to blow off some steam. He was just about to take another sip of the bitter drink in his hand, when a large, unfamiliar hand settled on his hip and a body was pressed up against his other side.
“How about you come home with me?” the man, who Timothée recognized as one of the obnoxious drunk men, slurred in his ear.
“Get your hands off of me,” Tim replied, feeling uncomfortable and small. The man was large in all aspects, he was badly groomed and smelled of alcohol and sweat.
“Hmm, feisty, I love it.” He pressed himself even closer against Tim and slipped his fingers underneath the hem of his loose shirt.
“B-Back off!” Tim shrieked, raising his voice slightly. He tried wiggling out of the man’s grasp, but he was just so much stronger and he felt fear creeping up his spine.
“Come on, let’s get out of h-…” The dirty looking man never got to finish his sentence, as a tall figure appeared behind him and yanked him backwards.
“I believe the boy told you to get lost,” a deep, raspy voice told him threateningly. Timothée turned around and watched as one of the businessmen grabbed the drunk guy by his collar and shoved him back to the other end of the bar. The guy scrambled back to his seat with his hands held up in defeat. Timothée took a shuddering breath and pushed his drink away from him. He wasn’t in the mood anymore.
The businessman sat down on a stool next to him and gently put a hand on his shoulder. Tim looked up at him and studied the man for a second. He had dark blonde hair, messily slicked back with a little bit of product. His eyes were the brightest shade of blue Tim had ever seen and his facial hair was trimmed back to a five o'clock shadow. He was handsome.
“Are you okay?” the man asked him, concern showing in his eyes.
“Y-Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Timothée stuttered, looking down at his lap. A few dark curls fell from over his eyes and he was grateful for it. He didn’t need for the man to see the darkening blush that had crept up over his cheeks.
“Are you sure?” The man gently rubbed his shoulder. Tim nodded and bit his lip, still not daring to make eye contact.
“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper.
“You’re welcome, you didn’t deserve that,” the man told him gently, before running a hand through his unruly locks of hair. Tim finally looked up at him and blushed an even darker shade of red at the genuinely caring expression the man wore on his face.
“I think I’ll just go home,” he said with a sad little smile and stood up from his seat.
“Are you sure you’re okay? Let me at least make sure you get home safely,” the man said, as he stood up as well. Timothée bit his lip again and twirled one of his curls around his finger. He didn’t even know if he could trust the man. For all he knew, the man could have the same intentions as the drunk guy he had saved him from.
“Oh, that’s not necessary, I-,” Tim began, but the man interrupted him.
“Look, I, ehm…” He pulled a business card from the inside of his suit jacket and handed it to Tim. “I’m Armie Hammer. I’m a lawyer and I would feel really bad if something happened to you and I found out afterwards. Can I walk you back home?”
Timothée studied the card for a minute and pondered over his decision. This man, Armie the lawyer, seemed genuinely concerned. How bad could it be to just let him walk him home? This day couldn’t get any worse anyway.
“Okay,” Tim answered with a small nod. He grabbed his backpack and pressed it tightly against his body.
“What’s your name?” Armie smiled at him as he led him to the exit, holding the door open for him.
“I’m Timothée,” the younger boy answered. “Timothée Chalamet… Or just Tim, really.”
“Nice to meet you, Timothée,” Armie smiled and gestured for him to lead the way.
They walked the relatively short way back to Tim’s apartment in silence. Tim still had his doubts about the man, but couldn’t deny that it was incredibly chivalrous from him to offer to make sure he was safe. He felt like someone was finally taking care of him, even if it was just for a few minutes and it made his belly warm. He hadn’t felt like that in years.
“This is me,” he softly said, as they stopped after a few minutes. Armie nodded and looked up at the tall apartment building.
“Looks nice,” he offered with a small smile. Timothée knew that it was a lie. It looked crappy and cheap.
“Thank you again for what you did,” Tim said, looking down at the ground as he shuffled his shoe back and forth. The back of two soft fingers stroked his cheek and his head jerked back up in surprise.
“I’d do it again without thinking twice,” Armie said, his voice gravely and deep. It caused a shiver to run up Tim’s spine.
“Yeah, ehm… I… Thank you. Bye,” he said, before he opened the door to the apartment building, blushing to his roots now.
“Good night, Timothée,” Armie smiled and the way his name rolled off of his tongue intensified the shiver. Or maybe it was a second shiver, which would have been ridiculous, but Timothée wasn’t sure anymore. Armie turned around and starting making his way back to the bar.
Tim stared at his retreating form and shuddered. What was that? Why had this man been so nice to him without even knowing anything about him? Why had he felt the need to protect him?
And why was Tim feeling all hot and bothered all of a sudden?
He stared at the card in his hand as he rode the elevator up to his floor.
Armie Hammer
Civil Rights Attorney
+1 213-288-1986
Timothée shivered again.