Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s not super often he went out, but tonight’s drinks were 2 pounds off so why the hell not. II just finished his midterms and all he wanted to do is just relax, have a fun night out with a couple of his mates from class, definitely get sloshed, and wake up with a severe hangover. Unfortunately, so did half the campus apparently. The popular bars were all filled up and he was gonna call it quits before remembering a certain underground place.

Literally. It’s in the basement.

His friend jokingly called it the “underground, underground gay bar” because of it. II was skeptical, to say the least, but it wasn’t even midnight and he was still sober. Which, according to him, is a problem.

So he walks in and finds the entrance in an almost hidden door, right by the side of an alley. He momentarily thinks this might all be fake and he’s about to walk into a death trap, but then he realizes that means he wouldn’t have to take an exam ever again, so he walks in. 

He gives his ID to the bouncer who leads him inside and he takes the place in. There’s strobe lights near the dance floor and it’s covered in a blue low-light. There’s a DJ absolutely jamming with a crowd of people grinding, drinking, and shaking ass. Safe to say he’s in a good place. The bar itself is further down and has a super long counter, a couple bartenders there. There’s some men chatting, sending each other flirty eyes, and II looks away when they start openly making out. 

Drink first. Then the floor.

He walks over and orders his usual, a redbull vodka. He also opens a tab, knowing he’ll be here a while and will most certainly be getting more drinks. It stings as it goes down and he scrunches his face, trying to ignore it. The vodka isn’t the best but once he gets on the floor the music fills his body (along with the alcohol) and his body starts relaxing. Head nodding along to the beat he down the rest of his drink and sets the glass somewhere, not looking where, before heading back to dance. 

Now, II wouldn’t call himself a dancer. But he’s got hips and does love to sway. His tank shows off a couple of his tattoos⸺the start of a sleeve he’s got going on. Sweat builds at the base of his neck from the body heat and he goes to order a second drink, this time getting a classic cosmo and drinking that equally fast. While sipping on the drink he notices someone looking at him from across the room, and he recognizes him as someone from one of his classes. The guy’s never given him the best vibes, but who’s he to judge?

Famous last words.

Just as he finishes the drink and slides it back to the bartender, said guy walks over, eyes locked on II. It makes him cringe. Even through his alcohol-filled brain he’s sober enough to realize this guy isn’t someone he wants to hang around with.

“Hey, cutie. You alone here?”

Red flag. II bares his shoulder before shaking his head. “Nope, got someone on the floor. Was about to go join him.”

He moves but a hand on his shoulder stops him.

“Hey you’re in my class right? Anthro 410?”

He slowly nods his head, shaking the guy’s hand off his shoulder.

“Mind if I join you and your mate on the floor? I’ve seen you dance. You’ve got some hips, mate.”

He scowls, not sure if the lighting reflects that. Since the person doesn’t leave, he assumes not. “I do, actually. I’m gonna go now.”

And with that he leaves the guy behind him and goes right back into dancing. He’s had guys hit on him before, some land some don’t, but it doesn’t make it any less awkward to turn them down. He just hopes that this guys won’t approach him again⸺in the bar or in class. Is it too late for him to switch classes? Maybe the professor won’t mind.

But maybe he’s asking for too much, because when heading for the bathroom he sees him again. He doesn’t walk to him, just his eyes follow II to the bathroom. It makes him uneasy. Quickly finishing up his business he leaves, trying to powerwalk through a few couples to get to the middle. The music changes to something more high-energy and II finds himself jumping along with the move of the bodies, forgetting all about the weird guy.

He wishes it would stay that way.

Third drink, trying to keep the light tipsiness going, he’s once again met with said guy. He’s obviously more drunk, definitely had a few ales if the stench of his breath is to count for anything. This time he tries to throw an arm around II’s shoulder, which he does not fuck with.

“Knock it off,” he asserts, slapping the hand away. He might be shorter than most, but from playing the drums he’s got some toned arms and legs. And he’s not afraid to use them.

“Whoa!” he exclaims, “no need to be aggressive. Just trying to see if this handsome lad will accept my offer for a drink, dance, and maybe something more?”

II looks at him deadpan. “I’d rather shag my mum.”

The guy’s eyebrows raise, mouth open to speak, but II never hears what he says. He just struts off again.

A couple hours have passed and II thinks he might start heading home. Or at least sit down for a bit. Checking his phone it’s just about 1 in the morning, and his body is sticky with sweat. But of course, he can never have a moment of peace in his life.

“Looking good,” a familiar voice calls out.

II might just punch this man. But he does like this bar and wants to stay. So he restrains himself, takes a deep breath, and hopes this doesn’t lead to him getting banned.

“I don’t see that mate you were talking about earlier.”

He inhales a sharp breath. Fuckkkkk. He forgot about that. His muscles tense as the body behind him gets closer, and frankly more touchy, and II knows he needs to think fast. His eyes lock in on someone at the bar, seeing another person from one of his classes. Shaggy brown hair and a lean stature⸺quiet and reserved. They’re both music majors, and he hasn’t talked to the guy much but he’s always been very polite. And very attractive. But that’s besides the point.

They make eye contact and II beelines for him. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe he’s being too bold, but the situation calls for it. He quickly turns and sits in the person’s lap, arms going around his neck.

“You’re my boyfriend.”

The guy raises his eyebrows, brown eyes widening. “I⸺okay. Sure. This works.”

Hands hover over his waist before settling there, so light II wouldn't have noticed they were there. The previous weirdo guy walks over, having momentarily lost II in the crowd. He stalls at the sight of II in this other stranger’s lap, shakes his head, and continues talking.

“Who are you?”

“His boyfriend. And who are you?” A deep voice reverberates against him, and the hands tighten slightly. Seems his fake boyfriend gets the memo.

“I… I was gonna buy him a drink.”

“Oh well.”

II stifles a laugh at how awkward yet unimpressed his fake boyfriend is. He collects himself, not wanting to give away the lie. No one speaks for a bit. Turning his head he sees brown eyes staring down the man, and II almost shivers. If he hadn’t known this guy before he would’ve been frightened. But the hands on his waist are still gentle, and rub small circles where they are. 

“Right. I’ll, uh, head out then.”

They watch with pointed eyes as the guy leaves, and once the doors to the bar close they both relax. Hands go back to hovering over him, not sure if they should keep II in their hold.

“So, does my boyfriend have a name?”

II looks up with a shocked face before realizing he is the boyfriend. “Oh! I’m II. Sorry about throwing that⸺and myself⸺onto you. What’s your name?”

“Vessel. What exactly just happened?”

He laughs, “Dude has been pestering me all night. I lied to him earlier about being with someone, and recognized you from a class, and decided you looked safe enough.”

“What a wanker,” Vessel scoffs, “well I appreciate the trust. You okay?”

“Yeah, was thinking of getting one last drink and heading out soon. Dancing is tiring.”

“You dance?”

II cringes. “Er, not really. I just move to the music.”

“Sounds like dancing to me.” He shuffles. “By the way, is this okay? Do you want to get a chair?”

It’s then when he realizes he’s casually chatting while still in his lap. But looking at Vessel he feels something swirl in his chest, and he can’t imagine sitting anywhere else. “I’m good here as long as you are.”

Vessel smiles and avoids his gaze. “Then I’m good as well.”

“You can hold on to me, you know. I’m not gonna break under your grasp.”

Vessel stammers, “I didn’t⸺well I just⸺okay.” Hands resume their place, this time more strength to their grip. It makes II smile.

“So, Vessel, come here often?”

He snorts at the line. “No, actually. I usually write music in my flat. Don’t know why I came out here, being honest.”

That peaks II’s interest. “You write music? What kind?”

Vessel blushes, red running down his neck. Cute.

“Not much, just some lyrics here and there. I switch between sounds, but I love piano.”

“I’m partial to the drums myself.”

Now Vessel’s eyes snap up. “Drums?”

Suddenly under the weight of Vessel’s eyes II finds himself getting nervous. “Yeah, I’ve been playing for a while now. Really like metal and rock sounds.”

“Would you,” he swallows, “want to work together maybe? Nothing serious, but I’ve been missing the drums in a few songs and maybe you could take a look?”

The vulnerability in his eyes makes II’s heart swell. “Yeah… yeah that sounds nice. When do you want to do that?”

“I’m free now if you are?”

II chews his lips. “I’m free as well. Ready to head out, then?”

Vessel grins widely. “Let’s go, darling.”

He feels his cheeks heat up at the pet name, trying to ignore how it makes him feel. They walk hand in hand all the way back to Vessel’s flat, talking about everything and anything they can think of. For once II feels like he’s found someone who gets him, someone who has the same passions as him, they just click. It’s not difficult to assume Vessel feels similarly. 

Inside he looks down at the music sheets and lyrics, Vessel fiddling with his nails to the side. II looks up, stars in his eyes. “Mate, this is brilliant. I need to hear this. I’ve already got some ideas for drums, like right here…”

They continue talking, Vessel doing a short demonstration on piano for some bits, and singing as well. II’s never heard anyone like him. And in the shitty lighting of Vessel’s flat, the shadows cast on his face frame his features beautifully. Another spark lights inside his chest, and II can tell he’s fucked.

“This might be soon,” he begins, “but you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

Vessel stutters, not expecting the praise. “You’re just saying that, I’m nothing special…”

II scoots closer to him, carpet dragging on his knees. “Rubish. You’re incredible. And you sound so… so lovely,” he whispers, “is it crazy of me to ask you on a date?”

The air stills. Vessel gasps. For a split second II thinks he may have overstepped, but then Vessel speaks up.

“That would be very nice, actually. We can do that.”

He’s not one to rush into things. If you asked him yesterday he’d say he prefers to take it slow, get to know someone before asking them out. But something inexplicable draws him to Vessel⸺something invisible connecting them together. And as they continue spit balling ideas, devolving into giggles and leaning into each other’s shoulders, II can’t help but think this is where he’s supposed to be.