Work Text:
~Part 1~
Nights in the city were always a pick your own adventure if you were brave enough.
It was New York after all. Millions had sung it’s praises for centuries and the city had yet to fall short.
Tonight it was your turn to have fun. You had secured a major deal at your job guaranteeing a substantial pay increase for the foreseeable future and that first big check cleared so of course you needed to celebrate somehow.
Spirits were not as high as you would have liked since all of your friends had not been able to come out with you but you weren't new to solo satisfaction and chose to take yourself out to dinner and then maybe bar hop for the remainder of the evening.
It had been a fun night but it was getting late and you chose to make this last bar, Henry Public, the final stop. It was a cozy old school bar close enough to your place that you and your friends descended upon it at least once every other month for catching up. They had a good selection of foods and specialized drinks so you ordered yourself the cocktail of the week and looked around for a spot.
It was a good crowd considering the band wasn't in, so seats inside were limited. Usually that didn't matter but at this time of night you didn't want to sit outside so you scanned the booths and saw one with no one save a man watching his empty drink with an equally empty look in his eyes.
He was handsome in a sad pet kind of way and sure you knew better than to approach a man especially with so many drinks in your own system but something about him was intriguing. You asked the bartender what the guy’s deal was and she shrugged saying he didn't say much other than his order and had been there for awhile.
“Has anyone tried to talk to him?”
“Not really.” She shrugged and tapped a beer for another patron.
From where you sat you could see he had beautifully dark curly hair that sat like a fluffy halo framing his face and wide jewel-toned eyes that still were focused only on the cup of brandy in front of him. He was handsome, none with a working brain would argue that. His face was made of strong, healthy lines and he had a profile that the art freaks (affectionately) in that school over on Franklin would fight tooth and nail for.
And then his nose. It was an aquiline shape which was your favorite to see on people. It was romantic, historical even, and great for-
Your thought was cut off by bright eyes snapping in your direction making you look away quickly.
“Oh god I hope I wasn't saying any of that outloud.”
You took a shaky, embarrassed sip of your drink and dared to look back over at the stranger. Him looking at you must have been your imagination because it seemed that he hadn't moved a muscle since you had entered the establishment.
Probably against better judgment, you got up and made your way over to his booth and greeted him. “Hey, the bar is kinda crowded. Is it ok if I sit here?”
The man barely looked up at you and shrugged. The angle you were at made the bar light shine on him and for a moment you felt like you were looking at a painting of a Saint. With his face fully lit you were for sure smitten.
“Shit he’s even hotter up close.”
There was a small huff in response but he glanced at the bar and it was truly quite full, with the spot you had just vacated already filled by a new patron. “If you must.”
His voice was soft but carried an accent. You quickly thanked him and made yourself comfortable. The silence was a bit awkward as you didn't actually expect to get this far. “So” you finally struggled out. “How are you liking New York?”
He looked up at you and now you could see that his eyes were a beautiful shade of amber that was almost uncanny. It made your skin prickle. “I… am… adjusting.”
He didn't seem like he wanted to converse too much but unfortunately for the both of you, when you were nervous or tipsy, you were a talker and right now you were both.
“Have any favorite parts so far?” you tried to keep your tone light and friendly. Nothing was said as a waiter came and replaced his empty cup with a new one and offered you a refill which you declined but swapped for some fries. “Something about fresh hot fries after a night of drinking, am I right?”
The light of the booth hung above the two of you and was casting shadows on his face in ways you hadn't noticed from the bar. It made his eyes glow almost. “You’ve had one drink.”
“I hit a few other places earlier.” You smiled and finished off the rest of your cocktail. “Little celebration tour.” you added quickly so he hopefully wouldn't get the wrong idea.
Still the man said nothing and took a sip of his own drink. You saw his hands and even they were beautiful. Long slender fingers, beautifully manicured nails, and dainty wrists made him look rather elegant. They would be perfect for piano playing or a harp even.
“Yeah. He looks like the musical type.”
In the silence you let your mind wander, visualizing how his hands would look with various instruments. And you tried not to let that wander into how they would look doing other things. It continued until your fries arrived and they took most of your focus. You offered him some but he declined and you dove in.
“New York is a funny place.” he said, seeming to finally answer your question from earlier. “It's somehow always changing yet not changing at all.”
“It's the best part in my opinion.” you agreed. “No matter how much you or the city changes, you can still find your way home. When it matters of course.”
His face had still been rather neutral but his eyes would show flickers of emotion and your comment about home seemed to elicit something in him. “Tell me more.”
You had lived in different places throughout your life but there were certain things that were always going to be home to you. The weird couch at your aunt's house that you slept on as a child during family gatherings, the kitchen at your grandparents house where you learned how to spell your name correctly for the first time. The park where you had your first kiss and the block where you got into your first fight.
“I learned early that home is a feeling more than a place for sure and there are things that might make it more physical or concrete but your heart tells you where home is. Not landmarks.”
At some point the mood shifted and the man was watching you almost as intensely as he had been watching his glass earlier.
“Rather poetic and sentimental.”
You ducked your head embarrassed again. “Sorry.”
The man leaned forward and took a stray fry from your plate. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” There was now a warmth in his voice and you could feel the heat creeping into your cheeks as you watched his lips. “It’s a fascinating perspective. I’d love to hear more.”
“About what?” You giggled nervously. You usually didn't require much prompting to get on a soap box about anything but you suddenly found your mouth dry as you watched him chew and swallow. Just as you started to choke, he pushed the remainder of his own drink towards you and called the waiter for a cup of water.
Once you were confirmed ok you tried to thank him for his help and ask him what he wanted to hear about but he dismissed you.
“I think I need some air,” he said, digging in his pocket and dropping some cash on the table. “There is a bench outside, care to join me?”
You couldn't tell if you answered out loud but he cleared out his tab and yours before offering a hand to help you up.
You were seeing him now at his full height and god he had legs for days with a slender waist that you felt your hands burning to touch.
“Shit, those drinks are really starting to kick in.”
The sidewalk was busy as many were finally beginning their own adventurous nights but your new friend held your hand firmly as he pulled you after him across the street to the edge of the Blue and Yellow park. It was a children’s playground that was naturally devoid of children this time of night and the man opened the small gate and let you in.
It was now much quieter and you found yourself entranced by whomever this was. You watched him pull a cigarette from his pocket and light it with what must have been the world’s quietest lighter before his beautiful hands pulled it away and a puff of smoke left his lips. He offered you one and though you didn't smoke like that, you wanted to be included.
He lit it for you before holding it to your lips for you to take a drag. “Weird question but did you live in France at some point?”
He didn't say anything but instead looked at the swing set in front of the two of you and took another puff.
“I’m not a stalker I promise.” you quickly tried to cover. “I took a class on social anthropology and a few things have me thinking about it.”
An amber eye found you in the darkness. “Like what.”
To start off there was his voice. His accent was clearly western european but some of his words had a smoothness that wasn't exactly spanish leaving you to assume french. His mannerisms in the bar such as hand placements and how he interacted with the objects at the table gave the impression he came from not only a wealthy family but an old wealthy one at that.
“Then the way you smoke your cigarette. Here people scrunch their lips like this when they drag,” you demonstrated as best you could. “but you aren’t as severe with it.”
“It’s almost like a kiss instead of a drag.”
“Hmm.” he took another drag and you watched the tip glow.
“Also I’ve tried most cigs around here and this one tastes fancy as hell.”
He was quiet as he finished his cigarette. Once the butt was out he tossed it. “You are quite perceptive.” he said finally. “Despite your current condition.”
You shrugged. “I like studying people.”
“Well you are correct.” he smiled gently. “I lived in Paris for some time. And please pardon my manners but I just realized I never asked you who you are.”
“That's the eternal question isn't it.” You whispered back. Who were any of us really? “But I saw you from across the bar and you looked absolutely miserable and that happens to be my type.”
You had had that line saved for so long you needed to use it on someone. You gave him a cartoonish smile trying not to laugh at your own awful joke and you tried not to think about how hard the drinks were really hitting. The man watched you in disbelief but you held your pose refusing to be the first to break.
Suddenly, he laughed.
It wasn't hysterical but a slight chuckle that brought some life into his face. “Well I am miserable so it was again quite the observation.” He extended his hand for a shake. “Nice to meet you…?”
He held the pause so you could say your own name but you ignored it.
“The feeling is mutual.” you smiled, shaking his hand and finishing your own cig before snuffing out the butt and shoving it into your pocket. You didn't want to leave it for a kid to find tomorrow.
He noticed your omission of a name and turned to see you better. “Is there something you would like to be called?”
Back in college you and your friends had a rule of not giving out your name to people on a night out for safety but you kinda wanted to hear how it sounded coming from him.
“Y/n.” you finally said. Rule be damned.
“Beautiful.” he smiled. “Does it have a meaning?”
It did and you told him the most common one you heard growing up. “And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“What should I call you?”
He stared at the play structure thinking. “You may call me Armand.”
“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you, Armand.” You extended your hand for an official greeting.
He opened his mouth as if to say something but seemed to decide against it and took your hand in his. “Likewise, y/n.”
You hadn't noticed it in the bar but his hands were cold. It was later in the year so there was no saying yours didn't feel the same. The shake was a simple movement before he just held your hand closer and went back to staring into the distance.
“Ca-can you say something in french?” You weren't sure if it was a stutter of a shiver but Armand chuffed as he turned to face you.
“Si ça continue comme ça, je vais peut-être devoir te ramener à la maison et te garder pour moi. Comme un petit en-cas de minuit.”
You didn't know what he was saying but you loved the way it sounded. You were unsure when it happened but your faces were close enough for you to almost count his lashes. As he spoke you watched his mouth and noticed his beauty spot just above his smile line.
“You know they say that wherever you have a beauty spot, it was the place you were kissed the most in a past life.”
“Well I have lived many lives Y/n.” his voice was so soft you felt another shiver building. “Some longer than others.”
“Thats the hard part about reincarnation.” you tried to focus but you were almost nose to nose with him and only an inch more would have your lips touching. “You don't get to choose what type of life you come back to.”
Armand seemed just as fixated on your lips focusing on them as he spoke. “I guess that is why we have rebirths to counteract it all. We can start over in life whenever we want and be new people.”
“For better or worse.”
“For better and worse.” he countered.
The conversation stalled and while Armand turned back to his own thoughts, you were stuck staring at his profile. Thick hair that covered his forehead a bit gave way to his browbone that shielded sunken eyes and cheekbones, a romantic curve to his chin, sweet lips where it seemed his bottom lip stuck out just a bit more in a pseudo pout. Then his nose.
“Is there something on my face?” Armand tried to hide his amusement.
“What? No! Sorry! You look fine!!” you scrambled for a way out. “I think my drinking is catching up with me.”
You needed to call it a night but you couldn't bring yourself to pull your hand back from his grip. A cold finger pressed to the inside of your wrist and you shivered for a third time. “Your pulse is racing. Am I making you uncomfortable?”
He moved to put space between the two of you but you closed it just as quickly. “No! I mean, no. I'm just a bit ticklish there.”
Fiery eyes seemed to scan your face slowly before your hand was lifted and a kiss was placed to the back of it. “It’s getting late, non?”
You nodded trying not to hope he’d do that again.
He freed a hand and cupped your face. You leaned into the touch a bit too eagerly and he chuckled stroking your cheek. You were feeling like a card tower in a hurricane and you could no longer see straight.
“You are filled with desire mon petit.” his voice felt like it was echoing in your head. “I don't want to do anything you’ll regret in the morning.”
“No,” you were so close. To what, you weren't sure but you could already taste your reward. “Please. I’ll be ok.”
“I promise.”
You were at his mercy and you couldn't find a fuck to give. You just wanted him. Needed him even.
Armand stood and pulled you with him. Under the yellowed street light you saw he really had a face that was meant to be seen by candlelight. What a time to wish you took those drawing classes like you wanted back in school.
He finally let go of your hand but slipped his arm around your waist pulling you flush against him. “Mon petit courageux. You don't know what you're asking for.”
“Then show me.”
A smile crept across Armand’s face. You could feel his fingers creeping along the back of your neck with one gently scratching at your collar and the others playing with the hairs at your nape. Your eyes closed as you reveled in the sensation. Something touched your lips and you jumped before hearing his voice.
“Next time.”