Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or the characters or anything.
A/N: A sort of apology fic for not updating my Scorbus sooner. It was requested on Tumblr and I like how it turned out so here, have some Teen!Lock. Thank you to Gracie x for being a lovely beta
I can't believe I'm out with John Sherlock thought to himself for the third time that night. He refused to let his mind call it a date. Then he would just be disappointed when nothing romantic arose. But so far tonight, John had brushed his knee twice, laughed at his stupid jokes, and even put his hand on the small of Sherlock's back. Sherlock was getting some serious signals, but he told himself that he was probably imagining most of it.
"Would you like another drink?" John asked.
"Are you trying to get me drunk?" Sherlock said flirtatiously. Oh fuck. I didn't mean to say that out loud.
John just grinned and walked off to get some more drinks. He wasn't sure how the other man managed it, but he had supplied them with a steady drink supply all night without a fake ID or anything. He probably just flirted with the bartenders.
There was a huge downfall to going about town with someone as attractive as John: everyone hit on him. So far three girls and two blokes had asked for his number, and one had even pinched his bum. John had politely turned them all down. Probably so Sherlock wouldn't feel bad.
John returned with two more beers. Sherlock was halfway through his when John suddenly gasped. "I love this song! We should go dance!" Sherlock began to protest, but John's hand was on his wrist and tugging him towards the dance floor.
"John," Sherlock whined.
"Oh shut up. You come to a club to dance, and we are going to dance," John said, grinning.
"I can't dance." Sherlock admitted.
"I'll teach you," John smirked.
Before Sherlock could protest, John's hands were on his hips, gently guiding him. Soon his hips were swaying in time to the beat. "You liar. You are a great dancer!" John said, his hot breath on Sherlock's neck. Sherlock's breath caught. He gathered up all his nerve, and leaned in close, pressing himself flush against John. "I have a fantastic teacher," he whispered.
John could feel himself getting aroused, and he knew Sherlock could too. He had just been about to suggest that they get out of there, when he felt someone tap his shoulder. He sighed. "Yes?" he said, turning around. Behind him were three tall, and overly muscled men in muscle shirts that were two sizes too small.
"I would appreciate it if the fags would stay in their designated bars and clubs. I really don't like to have my night ruined by some queers making out on the dance floor," said the one closest to John, obviously the leader.
"We were just dancing," John said.
"Go dance somewhere else. I don't appreciate it."
"I don't appreciate having some homophobic idiot interrupting me and telling me I'm not allowed someplace because I happen to be dancing with another man."
The 'homophobic idiot' took that chance to swing. John ducked, which only served to make him angrier. Soon there was a full out brawl, John and Sherlock against the three brutes. Despite his thin figure, Sherlock was actually fairly good at fighting. He seemed to be able to anticipate every swing and kick before it actually happened.
The fight was eventually broken up.
"Stay out!"
"Oh, now you are gonna fucking get it. You got me kicked out my favorite club!"
John and Sherlock barely had time to start running when the three goonies started to chase them.
John was almost about to collapse from exhaustion when he noticed a tiny shop with an awning above it. He grabbed Sherlock's hand and pulled him under it.
"Where'd they go?" said one of the homophobes.
"Oh fuck, it's starting to rain. Let's go Jack. They aren't worth it."
Jack nodded. "Let's go guys."
John squeezed closer to Sherlock as the group of men walked past. He waited three minutes, and figured they wouldn't be coming back and finally sighed with relief.
"Well, that was a close one wasn't it?" he said, laughing.
"No bloody kidding that was a close one. I'm pretty sure I lost a lung. Anyways, we should head back now," Sherlock said, moving to get up.
John held him back. "No, we should wait here in case they come back this way. Not to mention its pouring rain. Just five minutes?"
Sherlock nods reluctantly. "It's bloody freezing though."
"Here, you big baby," John readjusted himself and pulled one arm out of his coat, and pulled Sherlock closer to him so he could wrap him in his jacket. "Is that any better?"
Sherlock nodded, not trusting his words. He could feel himself growing redder and redder and he knew John could see. John feigned a shiver for an excuse to snuggle closer into Sherlock.
"Hey John. Why didn't you take those other peoples numbers when we were back at the club?" Sherlock asked, unable to stop himself.
"For how much of a bloody genius you are, you really are quite daft, aren't you Sherlock?" John chuckled.
Sherlock opened his mouth to ask what John meant but he was cut off by John's lips on his. He leaned into the kiss, and found himself practically sitting on John. "Oh sorry, um-" Sherlock said, climbing off the other man.
"Oh no you don't," John growled, pulling Sherlock back on his lap. "You are just fine right here." He smirked, happy to see the blush crawling up Sherlock's neck. They continued to kiss for a while, until it begun to get more heated. God, we're going to end up shagging on the pavement. John seemed to sense this too, because he broke off the kiss. "We should probably head back," he said, catching his breath.
"Good idea."
John instantly missed Sherlock's heat when he peeled himself away from him. He fought the urge to pull him back down for more snogging, but they really did need to get back.
He reluctantly got up from their little spot and stepped out from under the awning. At some point, it had stopped raining, and the skies were clear and bursting with stars. "Shall we?" John said, holding his hand out to Sherlock.
"We shall," Sherlock said, grinning. They walked back hand in hand, occasionally pointing out constellations. There was a happy feeling in the air. Like something had happened that was meant to be.
