Chapter Text
It had been years since August had been on a true date, let alone been out to meet someone besides for work in the Games.
He adjusts the tyrian purple bowtie he’s expertly tied in the mirror, looking over his outfit for any adjustments and smoothing back his undercut once more. The gunman steps away, picking up his red-lensed glasses to set just so on his face.
From there, he brings himself down the stairs to the front doors to wait for the limo.
The man doesn’t think he’s ever been so anxious in his adult life. Only ever as a young man, approaching a silly crush or right before an important match. Yet he keeps composure, letting his anxiousness manifest only as another readjustment of his suit or fiddling with the many rings on his fingers.
Eventually the limo pulls up, just on time. Hopefully with his person of interest inside. August is escorted in by the chauffeur, but his gaze is fixed solely on his date.
The two had known each other for about three years, having met after he hired a new gardener for his vast expanse of a yard. It begun with Ballistic watching from his study as they tended to the exotic plants native to Gaea. Then he took steps to relax outside during your shifts, excusing it as “a need for some fresh air” or “get in some croquet practice” when truly he had pulled out a book that he knew by heart and missed almost every shot he took because he was occupied with their presence.
In enough time this relationship became close, Ballistic inviting them over for tea, a round of Shakespeare because ‘its better when I have another performer’, or a home cooked meal prepared by the gunman himself.
August was torn about his feelings, after having pushed everyone he cared for out of his life. His son, his wife. Dear lord, his wife…
But, after the success that was his reentry into the Apex Games and his confidence at an all time high, he propositioned a date.
August placed a kiss on the back of their hand, climbing into the limousine and adjusting his coat. They were stunning, wearing one of his old suits with a deep blue waistcoat, the swirling iridescent design glimmering in the evening light, white dress shirt under with the black dress pants and shoes.
“Good evening, dear” Ballistic smiles as the limo starts to pull out of the villa, “Might I say, you look delightful. I’m pleased to see that suit fits you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Brinkman. It makes me feel…confident.” They respond, taking a second to find a word to settle on as they smooth their hands over the rich fabric and tugging lightly at the collars of their shirt. Sure the sizing might be a bit off, but it seems to fit well across their chest, collar sitting just right to show the most tender parts of their neck…
“So, where are we heading? You were thinking of dinner, yes?” They ask, snapping the elder man out of his trance.
“Yes, I had a reservation made for a gourmet restaurant, one I frequent often. Live music, a nice corner booth for us, and as much wine as the two of us care to drink.” Ballistic chuckles, he truly wanted to make this a special night, and if their date turned out to be a bust at least a good night of drinking for himself.
“Sounds lovely.” They smile so sweetly in return, a smile that has made him weak for such a long time and now he gets to see it up close and personal.
They sit in comfortable silence for the short drive, sharing a bit of champagne to ease their nerves for the night to come. If not for them than certainly for himself, as August is unable to quell his own overactive mind. Everything must be perfect, and yet he doesn’t have full control.
After two glasses are poured, his date holds up their glass for a toast,
“To your success in the Apex Games, Ballistic.” They offer, returned with a soft clink.
“And to your good health, darling” It comes out with more of a purr than he intended, getting an instant reaction from them. How sweet they look, slightly flustered and taken aback at the compliment, “And please, let me be August for tonight.”
Not long after, the limousine pulls up to their destination. The chauffeur opening the door for Brinkman’s guest before the man himself. The two meet at the stairs up, taking it slow for the old man’s joints.
But it leaves time for the two to take in the magnificent atmosphere, lively yet proper as the muffled sound of the live band plays from inside. A sound of gentle swaying lounge music.
August is recognized instantly, guided to a sectioned off booth far enough away from the restaurants hubbub for a pleasant conversation.
“So, August,” They start as the pair is seated and poured red wine by the attendant, “Tell me about yourself. I feel like I barely know you for having been in your employ for so long.”
“Well, i’m sure you know more than you think. But I’m happy to enlighten you.” He takes a sip from the wine and clears his throat before continuing, “I Inherited the wealth I have from my parents, as most in the upper-class do. Became a boastful young man and found my calling in the Thunderdome, and eventually retired for the sake of my wife and boy. Grew more and more absorbed in my own spiraling thoughts that they left, and now my elder self must pick up the pieces that young Brinkman shattered long ago.”
He recites it all as if it doesn’t affect him greatly, as he knows its been broadcasted and retold a billion times by now. The Comeuppance Against Ballistic.
“I see…I hope I can help you reassemble those pieces. I remember how isolated you were when I was initially hired, never coming out of the few rooms you perused. Then one day that all changed, I came in to tend to your garden and there you were. You almost gave that carnivorous plant quite the meal.” They laugh, holding up a hand to wiggle their fingers.
Ballistic returns the affection with a smile and a bashful look away from his date, “Ah, yes. It had been awhile since I had attempted to feed the more trap-like species.”
His counterpart takes a sip of wine in turn, “What compelled you to turn it all around? It was an amazing, but pretty drastic change.” They lean in a little, interest piqued for his response.
“It was for my son, Nathaniel…If you keep up with the Apex Games you would know he was planning to enter himself…I could never let him go through all that I experienced in a bloodsport.”
They nod solemnly in response, swishing the wine in their glass as they process all that the said, “You want to give him a better life than you had.”
“Precisely…” Ballistic trails off, a silence falling over the two before he picks up the reins again, “But enough about me and my woes. Lets really try and enjoy this moment, hm? Its our first night together and it should be something to remember”
“I agree, the hope was to be a bottle in by now but we haven’t even touched it” They laugh, watching as August stands for an official toast, even if its just between the two of them,
“To us, my love, for however long our relationship lasts.”
They stand as well, leaning over the table enough to give him a peck on the cheek, then return the toast, “I couldn’t agree more”
The night goes by in a comfortable tipsy haze, a good amount of wine calming his nerves enough to savor their conversation and the food. His date seems to be similarly tipsy, a but more brash with their jokes and laughter, and yet all the more gorgeous.
It makes him feel young again, having someone laugh so loudly, regale each other with silly anecdotes and stories of times past, and bounce conversation back and forth with. So much like the days when he partied with Sok and Kit in those celebratory parties for Thunderdome champions, of which they attended many. Dancing until one or two of them got too drunk to stay on their feet and went back to the mansion to fall dead asleep on any soft surface.
August perks up to the live music when the beat starts to pick up, something much better to dance to than any of the lounge songs being played before.
Ballistic stands, pushing his red glasses up his face from where they had slid, “Shall we dance?”
“Seems like an odd tempo for a waltz” They tease as they slide out from the booth.
“Oh, no, no. Waltzing is so bland, thats reserved for couples in their seventies. I much prefer swing” He grins, walking backwards into a small area just in front of their booth with their hand in his.
“Swing? Can’t say I learned that style.”
Ballistic pulls them in, arm around their waist and the other in their hand, “Then we’ll take it slow, follow my lead”
He takes a step back first, setting up for his dance partner to follow. They mimic the step forward, matching his step into a faster pace. Then, he starts an energetic sway of their upper bodies. All coming together for a intimate, playful dance.
“I’m going to spin you now, don’t get too dizzy” Ballistic warns in a sweet tone, taking that hand and moving it around to bring his partner through a full turn into a dip as the other hand catches their waist.
This earns a small yelp from his date, not expecting the dip and the firm arm under them,
“I have you, love.” Ballistic holds tight to them, as if this was more than just a simple fall onto the carpeted floor, “I’m not going to let go.”
“I know” They smile, breath still heavy from the slight adrenaline kick of the dip. A deep, yearning gaze between the two until they close the gap.
A deep and passionate kiss that August is all too willing to return, a hand moving up to hold their head. How much he missed the feeling of warm lips on his, the warmth of another body so close to his. It warms him better than any tea, any ray of sunshine, any spray of bullets could.
“That was lovely” He finally says, smile threatening to curl up on his lips and already twinkling in his eyes under his red-tinted glasses,
“You’re lovely, Mr. Brinkman”