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"You look a little overwhelmed, sweetie. First time out?"
Gavin certainly felt lost, but at least less overwhelmed now that he was outside in the warm night, away from the flashing lights and crowded bodies and noise, noise, noise. It all ratcheted up his anxiety as surely as if the club was a hand-crank to his brain.
And at least he wasn't shaking any more - as much- though he wasn't at all pleased that he looked so obviously shaken that the bartender had come out from behind the bar to check on him personally. Or maybe that was so she could sell him drinks without him having to try the bar itself, which well above his head when he was sitting.
She? He? Gavin couldn’t tell which one he was supposed to pick, and that was probably intentional. "I'm doing fine, thanks. Can I get a jack and coke?"
"Sure, babe. Come on back with me. I know the loud music isn't for everybody."
He followed the bartender back towards the bar. They towered over him, especially in those heels. Around the courtyard, people stood in groups chatting, or sat in the booths, some still dancing to the muffled music from inside, most smoking. In a shadowy corner it looked like a couple was kissing, but he looked away.
The bartender handed him his drink and pulled up a chair. Their sparkly hot pink nails were almost as long as his thumbs. "Thanks. My name's Gavin by the way."
"Ophelia Balls."
"Nice to meet you Ophelia."
She looked him over again. "You're very new."
"Oh, uh, yeah. I thought I'd... check it out. I wasn't expecting it to be so..." He gestured vaguely. "Have you ever been to Crown and Anchor Pub?"
She chuckled. "Why yes I have. I know the owner intimately. Veeeerrrry different kind of bar."
"I gathered that. I thought gay bars would be the same but with more flirting."
"Oh honey. On a Friday night?"
Sitting here it was much easier to see the couple in the shadowy corner. He tried not to look but couldn’t help noticing the person with their back to him reminded him of Trystan. A few people had so far, which was probably more telling of him. It was just the hair and the jacket, which this person was currently being sensuously helped out of. He looked away again.
"You looking to hook up?" Ophelia asked, nodding in their direction.
"Uh, n-no I just came here with a friend," Gavin stammered. "I don't -"
"Tell me your type, I'll try'n find you someone." She winked.
He hastily gulped some of his drink, and with effort managed not to wince. Damn, that was strong. "My friend came with me," he repeated. "Or, well, I came with her. And I lost her in the crowd. She looked like she was having fun, though."
Ophelia sighed. "You're not straight are you?"
"I, uh... Yeah, I guess. Well- um... I used to be?"
"Just Curious? Flexible? Bennnndy?" She purred with exaggerated movements of her lips.
"Something like that," he mumbled, avoiding her long lashed gaze, and drank some more.
Gavin instinctively looked up at a burst of noise from the door to the club opening. A trio passed them, shouting drunken greetings to Ophelia.
The person now lowering themself to their knees in the shadowy corner really did look like Trystan from the back. Same lithe build and wavy dark hair. It really did look like that was something Trystan would wear, too.
A hand on one wheel, he physically turned away from the couple and towards Ophelia, trying to ignore the knowing look in her eyes. It was too warm out here. "My friend probably forgot all about me. Last time I saw her she was dancing with some big guy in leather and a tutu."
"That's probably Bernie. Fat old bear?"
Gavin hadn’t thought he looked especially like that particular mammal, though he matched the other two descriptions. "Uh, yeah."
"He's a good man, always adopting the babygays and looking out for 'em." She leaned forward, and Gavin kept his eyes off her exposed bosom despite it being covered in glitter. "If you've been thinkin' 'bout experimenting, this is your golden opportunity. Pick someone, and I'll introduce you."
Somehow it was almost tempting, between Ophelia, and the atmosphere of the courtyard, and the surreal feeling that none of this was entirely real. But that would involve kissing and being touched by a stranger, the thought of which immediately brought him back to his senses. He took another swig to resist glancing back at Hopefully-Not-Trystan in the corner. "If I was... feeling that way," he said carefully. "I wouldn't want it to be with a stranger."
Ophelia made an understanding noise. "You have someone in mind."
"No, no, I only-"
"You have someone in mind," she repeated more confidently, chuckling. "What's his naaaame?"
"He doesn't have a name. There's no such person." That was a blatant lie. He really should get out of here, especially if that really was Trystan in the corner. "I'm perfectly happy being single."
"Sure, sure, but what if you could be happy and getting your rocks off with your nameless dream man?"
Gavin threw back the rest of his drink, got a throatful of whiskey, and choked. As he coughed and caught his breath, Ophelia plucked the glass from his hand. "Another?"
"I'd better not."
"It's on the house."
"I'm an unpleasant drunk."
"Well now, we can't have that, can we?" She put the glass somewhere behind the counter.
A few more people came in through the door, and shortly thereafter Ophelia was giving an extraordinary lecture about the origins of drag as an art performance for Gavin and the tiny butch who joined them. Why hadn't anyone told him about any of this? Jade possibly didn't know and Trystan probably didn't care.
But the rest of that conversation had to wait. Gavin and his rattled nerves were ready to go home and get as far away from this crime scene as possible. He shot Jade a quick text and hung around just long enough to say good night to Ophelia and add her number into his phone at her insistence.
He didn't mean to look in the corner again. He really had meant to avoid that at all costs. But somehow his eyes were over there again, on the last habitual scan around him on his way out. His heart jumped in a little twinge of panic. The standing half of the couple in the corner caught Gavin's eye, and smirked, sliding his hands into Probably-Trystan's hair and pulling his head closer.
Gavin suddenly felt like he'd had way too much to drink. He took a deep breath of warm smoke-scented air and tore his eyes away from those hands in that hair, the movements of Probably-Trystan's head, the smug expression on the stranger's face.
Heart pounding, he hurried through the door back into the deluge of music and flashing lights and moving bodies.
----
Trystan should have done something as soon as he recognized Gavin's voice. What the fuck was Gavin even doing here? He should have dragged Diego to the bathroom and finished there, in private. And yet here he was, pretending he had no idea, and frankly there was something sickly satisfying about it.
The Gavin he knew would be deeply uncomfortable with all of this, every damn aspect of the club and the situation. But unless there was someone else in town who looked like Gavin and dressed like him and spoke with his voice and used a wheelchair that looked like his...
It wasn't like Gavin hadn't already heard stories of this nature. It was his own damn choice to be here. It was possible he hadn't noticed, but that seemed unlikely. In which case, Gavin either liked or didn't mind bearing witness to this. Which was potentially flattering.
Diego smelled faintly of some kind of spice scented cologne. Trystan knelt on his crumpled jacket and took his time. He knew what Diego liked. Trystan closed his eyes, navigating by touch, locking his fingers in the elastic waistband of Diego's briefs and pulling them down so he could leave deep kisses along the defined V of his hips.
He could barely make out the sound of Gavin's and Ophelia's voices every so often, and could decipher none of the words. It was more the ambience of the thing.
He was definitely going to friendship hell.
Trystan stopped thinking in words and just let the sensations drown his thoughts out. Thudding of EDM from inside, murmuring voices around the courtyard, the taste of Diego's skin, the firmness of Diego's flesh and the knit cotton under Trystan's fingers, and a pinch of that comfortable, delighted feeling he always had just knowing Gavin was around.
As soon as Diego slipped on the condom, Trystan took his hand and guided it to his hair. Diego's large, rough hand settled at the base of Trystan's skull, as Trystan sank down on to his cock, letting it fill his mouth and then throat. Deigo's moan was just loud enough to be audible.
There was always (or at least, when it was good) something timeless about this. Trystan lost minutes to the rhythm of it, following instinct and impulse.
And he thought about Gavin. He shouldn’t have, but he did. It was noisier now and he couldn’t tell if Gavin was still present, among all the voices.
It was less of a fantasy that occupied his mind than an idea, a feeling. The idea of doing this but with him, the idea of him wanting it too, the feeling of being wanted, of Gavin's hands in his hair, Gavin's voice in his ear -- saying anything really, it didn't matter. But if it was something good? Something utterly fantastical and indulgent that would never ever happen, like "Trystan, I need you, please," in a hoarse whisper...
A shudder of pleasure wracked his body just thinking about it. He shifted uncomfortably in pants which hadn’t been nearly this tight at the beginning of the night. This was bad. He was going to have to leave the city and never look Gavin in the eyes again. Fuck.
Diego's hands felt so good on his scalp. He pushed Gavin from his mind entirely. He brought Diego to a finish, remembering all the reasons he liked Diego in the first place. He was doing pretty good at that for a solid few moments until Diego helped him back to his feet and chuckled, "that guy in the wheelchair was definitely checking us out. He looked me right in the eyes for like two seconds."
"Is he gone?" Was the only thing Trystan could think to say.
"He just left." Diego tied off the condom and tossed it into the convenient trashcan nearby with impressive aim, giving himself a congratulatory whistle before pulling Trystan into another embrace. He slid his hand down Trystan's thigh, rubbing his hardness through his pants.
A nagging voice in the back of his mind told him to cut this off right now and go take a cold shower before he got any more out of hand. Or chase Gavin down. He didn’t listen to that either. Frankly this felt physically good enough to keep going, even if he couldn’t focus anymore. He rested one hand on Diego's head, circling his fingers around the subtle cowlicks in his buzzcut.
He came accidentally thinking about how awful it would be to have Gavin be genuinely, authentically disgusted by him. It wasn't satisfying, it didn’t feel right, but it couldn't be denied that Diego knew his way around a dick.
---
Gavin called Trystan the next morning. The phone rang until it went to voice mail. His voice box still wasn’t set up, so it was just a robot reading off his phone number, which Gavin already had memorized. He ran over the main points of his message before the tone.
"Hey, Trystan. It's me, Gavin. I, uh, I thought I'd give you a call. I'm not doing anything today, so call me back anytime you... if you want. Like I said I don't have anything better to do." Several seconds lapsed while he rolled over his next words in his mouth. It wasn’t so much how to say it, but whether or not he wanted to say something at all. "Right well... have a good day. Stay safe."
Trystan didn’t call back until the evening. Gavin instantly recognized from the background noise that he was on a train. His heart sank. "Hey."
"Hey."
"Where are you?"
"I dunno. Somewhere on the 85 Eastbound."
Gavin couldn’t discern anything from his tone of voice. "Look," he said, his breath coming out in a rush. "Are we going to talk about last night or...?"
"Or what?"
"I don’t know, pretend it never happened?"
He thought he’d made it clear in his tone what a stupid idea he thought that was but Trystan said, "Sure. I like that option. Nothing 'happened,' anyway."
Gavin growled in frustration. "So you just took the first train out of town and now you're running from it over the phone too?"
Trystan paused. "Yeah, that was the plan," he said glibly.
"I don’t like that plan."
"Okay." Trystan laughed, but it was dry and humorless. "You talk then."
"Fine. Since you’re being a... an ass about it." Gavin was exasperated with Trystan already. "Right so last night... My friend dragged me out to that gay club. It was to celebrate her getting a job, so I went along."
"Of course. There's no other reason why you'd be in that kind of place."
Trystan said it with the mildest tone but it made Gavin want to shout at him. "It was a little loud for me," he said, failing to keep the frustration out of his voice. "But not terrible."
Trystan was silent. Gavin rapped on his desk with his knuckles. "And I saw you there. And you clearly knew I was there or you wouldn’t have known what I’m talking about."
"Diego saw you."
"Right. And he... mentioned me?"
"Yeah."
Gavin found himself wondering why he'd decided to bring this up in the first place. What was there even to say? He was still irritated but bit back his criticism. He hadn't called to lecture Trystan, and he knew from ample past experience that was likely to get him avoided even more. "Look, I, uh. As long as you're taking care of yourself it doesn’t matter to me what you do in your spare time."
"What's this call about then?"
Great question. "You seem..."
"Don't try to read my mind," Trystan cut in, showing the first genuine emotion of the call.
"Why are you so bothered that I brought this up? You did choose to be right there where anyone could see."
"I’m not bothered."
"I’m not judging you. I’m not - I’m not upset -"
"Really? Because you sound upset."
Gavin took a deep breath. Trystan was right, he'd been raising his voice, and getting more aggressive. "Sorry. I..." You're being cagey and weird and this is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. "I just wanted to clear things up so it wouldn't get awkward. I won't go back to that club again. You can have the whole place to yourself and -"
"I'm not worried about you stealing my club. I can go to any club in the country. I've got Diego's number, and he doesn't give a shit who sees him fucking. He's a go-go boy, you know. Half of that club has seen him in nothing but a thong."
It was a relief at least to hear Trystan say something more substantial, even if it was snappish. "Good for him. Is he... nice?"
"Yeah."
That was it: yeah.
It wasn't until the conversation moved on, to train trips and Ophelia and the weather, that Gavin realized he'd been hoping for Trystan to laugh about it, and flirt or joke. He hadn't expected defensiveness, but he could understand where it came from.
Gavin kind of missed Trystan's playful flirting. And he had no idea how to flirt without coming across as too sincere or weird. It was always him turning down Trystan's propositions, telling Trystan to shut up, pretending to be more grossed out than he actually was. That was their dynamic, and it was fun.
What could he even say? "Haha please flirt with me even though I’ve never expressed anything but strong disinterest." Or maybe "haha I haven’t been able to get that image of the two of you out of my mind, please say something about it so I know how to sort this in my brain."
"I heard you made friends with Ophelia?" Trystan asked.
"Yeah, I like her. She's very interesting. Maybe we'll go out for drinks, or something. Is it in bad taste to invite a bartender out for drinks? I don't know if she'd like chess," he added, only half joking.
Trystan laughed, genuinely, finally, and the sound soothed some part of Gavin's nerves, like a swig of homemade gin and tonic. "I'm sure she won't mind drinks. She wants to be everybody's friend. Just be very clear it's not intended as a date."
"It's not. I don't even know her."
"You wouldn't meet her standards anyway. She vets her dates like it's a job interview and rips unqualified men to shreds."
"I could be a good date if I wanted to." Before Trystan could remark on that, he added, "I'd never even heard of half the things she was saying. She had to explain to me who a bear is."
Trystan snorted. They bantered and made small talk until it sounded like everything was back to normal. They hung up when the static interfered too much for them to understand each other. Gavin wanted to ask when Trystan would be back in town, but he didn't. Trystan was, as Gavin kept being reminded, still fundamentally a free spirit and a drifter, who couldn't be tied down to anywhere or anyone. He wasn't some feral cat you could feed a few times who would then give up prowling back alleys in exchange for a dry place to sleep and some affection.
At least he could understand why that made him sad. He wanted to have loved ones, friends and family, close by, around. He wanted to know Trystan was safe.
He had absolutely no reason to be sad thinking about Trystan and Diego the smirking go-go boy. Sad and irritated. Irritated and... something else.