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When Izzy sank to his knees in the second to last stall in the Pink Cockatoo´s men's room, Duff had great expectations.
The last time they had chanced a try at recreating their fateful first encounter hadn´t gone particularly well and so it was unanimously decided that there would be no repeat. Slightly tipsy on the tailend of too many freebie drinks, he still recalled the mad adrenaline rush of hearing the raucous laughter outside, people knocking, shouting, urging them to get a fucking move on. Exactly two years ago to the date, it had been the night before his birthday, somewhere in a club in downtown Lafayette, Indiana.
With clammy palms he had grabbed Izzy's hips, the rough denim of his jeans a stark contrast to the silky skin sliding between his lips. Jaw aching, he had tested Izzy's grip, tender fingers tangling in his hair, petting and combing tirelessly.
Taking the lead rewarded him with a new kind of thrill – the big gap under the door ensuring every random straggler could see him kneeling. Squirming in tight leather pants.
Though they never discussed it, Duff was certain Izzy had felt it too. The strange intimacy of being so barely concealed. Exposure, that should have been humiliating, but wasn't.
The mood outside had tipped abruptly. Soft knocks turned to bangs. Annoyance into anger.
Izzy had clocked it first, pulling him up, cool and unfazed. Duff had followed, still hard and frankly a little pissed off, giving everyone who stared the stink eye.
A vague, tingly echo of that night remained, alongside a lasting sense of intrigue.
Wistfully, he sometimes remembered it. Deeply bereft after missing out. But getting a bit wild far away from home was one thing. Doing it here, another entirely.
Though he thought he was stronger than this, a wink and a smile was all it needed to turn him to putty. And new, well-laid boundaries were blown to the wind.
Heat pooled low in Duff´s groin, while Izzy fumbled. Digging through pockets. Patting himself down, waist to hip. ‘Fucking hell– Where is it?’
Duff chuckled. ‘Can´t find it? Should I help you look?’ he offered flirtily, priding himself a bit of an expert.
Despite his mellow mood, Izzy's brief, dismissive headshake tried his patience. He grew antsy waiting, eyes sweeping over random scribbles on the walls. Carlos gave very good head apparently. While Maurice was a sneaky little bitch. Unthinkingly, he inhaled, surprised when his nose wasn´t assaulted by a dozen unpleasant aromas.
Sweat collected at the base of his neck, and Duff wiped it away, shivering when the touch sent an electric current south. His shirt was choking him, so he opened a button. Let his fingers trail down his chest to toy with his belt. Watching Izzy grope himself was barely a hardship. Though he'd much rather lend a hand.
While these days, their sex life relied on careful planning, rare private moments reignited the fire that had been there from the very start. Experimenting behind closed doors, Duff had learned that he liked showing off a little. Even for an audience of one.
The walls of their new apartment were thick, so when they were home alone, he could be as loud as he wanted, leaving the lights on to undress at a leisurely pace. If the full-length mirror in their bedroom could talk, it might tattle on him. But all preparing proved worth it just to feel Izzy's eyes rake over his skin, hyper-focused and hungry. Grabbing his hips as he stretched, before rolling over to press him into the sheets.
The rigid denim of Duff´s jeans began to feel like a prison. Shifting impatiently, he willed Izzy to finally pay him the attention he craved. What the hell was taking so long? As he fidgeted with a button, it suddenly sprang open. His zipper followed. More deliberately.
The relief was so sweet that a low moan escaped.
Unwilling to wait any longer, he decided that enough was enough. Izzy was free to join him, should he ever find the time.
His stomach rose and fell as he bit his lip, tugging at his waistband. Sliding fingers into the gap, ghosting over the front of his underwear.
His breath hitched. Hips snapped forward–
‘Got it!’
Duff´s eyes flew open. The next moment, he was choking on thin air.
Because no universe – no earthly dimension existed, in which he had ever expected this. For Izzy to hold up a ring. A rushed jumble of words leaving his mouth that might have been rehearsed at some point, finishing on a soft, oddly shy smile and a question that came so out of the blue, Duff struggled to make sense of it. Blood rushed in his ears while wobbly knees barely held him up.
His heart was racing. A hundred miles a minute.
A beat too late, he remembered to pull his hand out of his pants, wiping it on his thigh.
Not as subtly as he had hoped, because Izzy´s eyes immediately zoomed in and widened.
A slight smirk replaced the painful tension. ‘I thought we´d save that for later actually.’
‘Oh m-my God,’ Duff stuttered, as warmth rose in his cheeks, staring at the thin gold band that gleamed in the dimmed neon lights. Elegant without being flashy, it looked like it would perfectly fit on his finger. A symbol of their love.
With shaking hands he started to do his jeans back up, fiddling with his belt, which left him no more presentable. In his head, images muddled together. Past, present, and future. A mix of colors and scenes. He sucked in a breath, actively calming his mind, wincing when it carried a sharp chemical tang that hadn't been there before.
Still anchored in place, Izzy held his gaze unwaveringly. Hopeful and reassuring, while his eyes seemed to repeat the question.
The ringing in Duff´s ears morphed into a steady whirring sound – likely some synapse shortwiring. When his brain rebooted, a dozen thoughts assaulted him at once, each adding to a bigger picture. But only one made it out unchecked.
‘But… w-what about the beach?’ he blurted before he even knew what he was saying, words jarring like fingernails on a chalk board. They instantly made him cringe, but it was already too late when he slapped a hand over his mouth, completely horrified.
What the hell was wrong with him?
Despite the bustle outside, one could hear a pin drop.
Izzy's expression slipped the tiniest bit. But he recovered quickly, his smile turning slightly wooden.
Swallowed up by regret, Duff struggled to get the right words out.
Because no matter the place, of course his answer would always be the same!
Even if work and raising a kid sometimes got in the way of romance, every day he thanked his lucky stars for what he had. Living together was a dream come true and each shared night still felt like a luxury. Cooking dinner. Cuddling in front of the TV. Or helping Molly with her homework. Most of the time, life was pretty perfect, and Duff loved his little family.
During the few times he had actually let himself imagine this moment, it had admittedly gone a little differently. Planes of white sand weren't a necessity, though they certainly added to the mood. A nice little spot by the cliffs on the side of the highway could have worked just as well. Somewhere meaningful and private to create a moment to remember.
When Izzy had offered to take him out, Duff had expected to be wined and dined. Partying had come as a pleasant surprise. In a way, he could even see the vision, proposing where their story began. Logic insisted that the club was special. His foolish heart just needed a second to catch up.
He swallowed heavily, wishing for a sip of water to wet his dry throat. Ready to take the final plunge-
When a loud bang made him jump.
‘What the fuck–?’ Izzy scrambled to his feet.
‘Get out! The police are here!’ Knocks rained down on their door. ‘Some idiot's brought a knife in! They're strip searching everyone’
People yelped in alarm while others laughed. Toilets flushed as the room erupted in a mad dash of trampling feet.
Izzy blanched. ‘Fuck.’ He grabbed Duff´s arm. ‘Come on, we need to leave!’
Weaving their way through the crowd, Duff stumbled along, a bit dazed. Straight across the dance floor, where he had first laid eyes on Izzy. In his mind, he still saw him standing at the very edge, jaw tense, scouring the place for prey. A strange magnetic pull had made him approach, though it took a lot of guts. What he remembered from that night were sharp glimpses. Dancing – more of a shuffle in Izzy's case. Hands that roamed freely. An unspoken offer that sealed both their fates.
He spotted uniformed detectives, trying to keep people calm and in place. Abruptly, Izzy turned a corner and strode towards a corridor, leading into the opposite direction.
‘Izzy,’ Duff hissed. ‘Where are we going?’
There was no answer. Not until they reached a fire exit, where Izzy pressed a button, before ripping open the door.
When they stepped outside, Duff got the strangest sense of deja-vu.
‘Phew,’ Izzy breathed. ‘That was a close one.’
Afraid that someone had seen them, Duff didn't dare to relax just yet. Behind them, the door fell shut. Down the road, flashes of blue lit up the wet concrete, revealing bins and heaps of trash. The smell of rain and rotting food was overpowering – just as he remembered. An unforeseen sequence of events had landed them where he had sworn he'd never go again.
Rejection Alley.
Dubbed so because many moons ago, it had been exactly in this spot that he had plucked up all his courage and asked Izzy to come home with him. Only to be told no.
Though he understood Izzy's reluctance, it had stung quite a bit. For a while, he had moped, struggling to look at the positive. They had kissed that night, Izzy's lips tasting of smoke and wine. Later, he received a text. A simple hi that made him grin so hard, his friend Emma who he had run to in his misery, rolled her eyes and asked if they were done being mad at Izzy.
Duff shoved his hands deep into his pockets, leaning back against the nearest wall. It was weird being back here. While they had left the danger zone, cop cars still cut off their escape route.
‘What kind of idiot brings a knife to a gay bar?’ he wondered. A nervous giggle escaped as he tried to imagine the scenario that had led to the raid.
Next to him, Izzy grew unusually quiet. Wordlessly, he slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out his trusty old pocket knife.
‘It's more about not getting caught,’ he offered drily. ‘Guy's an amateur.’
Duff gaped. ‘How did you even get that in there? They searched us!’
Izzy shrugged nonchalantly, tapping his foot against the dirty ground. ‘My boot.’
‘But… what if they´d caught you?’
Things could have gone way worse. Izzy's past scrapes with the law were no secret.
‘I´m not gonna brandish it around like a total beginner.’
That did not answer Duff´s question. ‘Why did you have it anyway?’
Surely not to peel potatoes!
Letting out a sigh, Izzy settled beside him. He kicked at a pebble and watched it skitter away. Something was clearly off – besides the obvious.
From experience, Duff knew that pressing the issue wouldn't help, no matter how much he craved answers. Inching closer, he reached for Izzy´s hand, linking their fingers together, and squeezed. Then he waited.
Down the road, people were still arguing. Shouting. Leaving. But Duff felt far removed from it all. He could practically hear the cogs in Izzy's head turning.
Watching the spectacle with a detached expression, Izzy coughed a couple times. ‘I just thought– We could carve our initials in that door. Afterwards, you know.’
The admission hit like a bomb. But Duff had no time to properly process it.
Izzy suddenly cursed. ‘Oh God, I need to call Slash. He´s gonna burn the house down!’
‘W-what? Why?’
But Izzy was already on the phone, turning away from him.
‘Hey man, um– Mission abort. Yeah, no. It's all good. Just– I'll tell you later, okay? No, no, he's fine. But, uh… don't light the candles yet? And make sure the oven is off. We won´t be home in time.’
Flabbergasted, Duff listened while Izzy spoke in a low voice. Scraps of conversation still made it through and painted a vivid picture. Increasingly guilty, he put together what Izzy's plan had been. And what he was currently missing out on.
When the call ended, Izzy faced him reluctantly, looking unusually sheepish.
Duff wrung his hands. ‘I´m sorry,’ he blurted out. ‘You just, uh… surprised me back there.’
‘Nah,’ Izzy shook his head. ‘I´m sorry. I didn't think things through. I imagined it more– Romantic, I guess.’ He huffed a self-deprecating little laugh. ‘I even picked the stall where we… you know.’
Yes, Duff was very much aware. And now he felt even worse than before.
‘I want to carve our names in that door,’ he said quietly. ‘I just… needed a moment.’
It was too late now. He had ruined the night, and he said so, fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt. Their jackets were still inside, but the chill barely registered.
Izzy scoffed. ‘Did you miss the damn cops showing up? The guys fucking three stalls over? I think someone was trying to take a shit actually.’
‘What? No! I mean… I did see the cops. Kinda hard to miss, you know.’
But everything else somehow hadn´t made it onto his radar.
Reaching for his hand, Izzy began rubbing warmth into his fingers. ‘You were really out of it, weren't you?’ He smiled knowingly. ‘I didn't realize how much you like that sort of thing.’
‘I don't,’ Duff said, and promptly blushed. ‘It's not like… a big thing.’ He swallowed. ‘Really.’
‘Right,’ Izzy hummed. ‘Now that we've cleared that up. What did you imagine? Besides the beach, I mean.’
Duff hesitated. ‘Um–’ This wasn´t about discussing kinky public sex anymore, but something far more intimate. ‘I actually don´t really care about the beach, you know,’ he admitted. ‘And I didn't think about it that much. Just… somewhere quiet without many people.’ He winced at how that sounded. ‘Not that it isn't nice! To have people around. Sometimes, I mean.’
Izzy smiled ruefully. ‘But not for a proposal. I get it.’
‘It would have been!’ Duff insisted. ‘I was just overwhelmed.’
‘And horny.’ Izzy winked.
Duff slapped his arm. ‘Shut up,’ he muttered.
‘So… there were no white doves?’ Izzy teased. ‘No writing in the sky?’
‘Writing in the sand maybe.’ Duff chuckled. ‘But actually, now that I think about it... I always imagined you riding in on a black steed. In a white suit- You, not the horse. You looked really suave.’ He thought about it for a moment. ‘And roses,’ he added more quietly. ‘There were always roses.’
A beat of silence passed. Somewhere, a cat meowed. Followed by the sound of rustling.
‘Well, I've got no horse,’ Izzy said softly. ‘But you can ride on the back of my bike.’ He lowered his eyes. ‘And, uh… there might be roses. At home.’
The lump in Duff´s throat grew. He suddenly found it very hard to breathe, knowing it was now or never.
‘Izzy?’ he asked, a little shakily. ‘Will you please ask me again?’
Izzy raised an eyebrow in surprise. ‘Out here you mean?’
Duff nodded, afraid that his voice wouldn't hold up.
When Izzy made moves to sink to his knees, he stopped him. Just in time. Because no matter what, the ground was still wet.
And it turned out, that he didn´t really need all that.
‘Just–’ he whispered. ‘Like this, okay?’
And this time, the answer came easily.
‘I´m sad about the door,’ he said afterwards, eyeing the gold band on his finger every few seconds, because he still didn´t trust his eyes. ‘You think Axl will let us carve our names in the door at the club house?’
Izzy laughed. ‘No chance.’
‘Huh, I guess we´ll just have to come back then.’
The police cars were long gone, so they were free to go. The club had emptied and the lights shut off. There was nothing left for them here, so Duff turned to leave, too.
But Izzy stopped him.
‘Did I, uh... ever tell you I know how to pick a lock?’ he asked.
Casually, he pulled out the knife again, holding it up like an offer.
Duff snorted and shook his head.
‘Why am I not surprised?’
A few dozen reasons came to mind, why this was in fact a terrible idea. But Duff didn´t manage to voice any of them. Watching as Izzy fiddled with the lock of the Pink Cockatoo's backdoor, he could only form one thought.
He wouldn´t have it any other way.