The Pick-Up
For a dive bar in the Kind-of-Almost-Perfect part of Gotham (the bit that lay between Golden Mansions and Total Shithole), the place Lain was sitting in wasn't really all that bad. The food was decent, the prices were way too high, and there was an occasional outburst of drunken arguments, but it was classy enough to be a good place to come for a first date. That was probably why the guy who had been flirting with him at the GRC had taken him out here for exactly that reason.
He felt that the night had gone decently so far, nothing absolutely spectacular or anything, but nothing bad or super awkward either. It was just kind of… average. Despite this (or maybe in spite of this) Lain was sitting alone at the bar, waiting for his date to return from the bathroom, just as he had been for the past, he looked at his watch… twenty minutes now.
"Y'know he's prolly not comin' back, righ'?" a saccharine voice asked from beside him.
Lain grunted and affirmative as he swirled the last of his bourbon and tossed it back, nodding forlornly as he set the empty glass down.
"Get mah friend here anotha round. An' I'll take one a' wha' he's got too," the voice called to the bartender who swiftly took out another glass and poured the two drinks.
This caused Lain to pause for a second. He was a big, brutish beast of a man that people were typically wary of, and with good reason considering he could kill a man without breaking a sweat. No one really chanced talking with him most of the time because he was that tattooed bald man that everyone thought of being quite at home in a prison cell, and that was long before any of them knew of his augmentations and tortured past (not that a lot of people knew about that anyways). Even dressed as he was now in a dark gray long sleeve button down to hide his tattoos, people as a general rule didn't dare approach him, nevermind buy him drinks. Which just begged the question, what the hell was wrong with this guy?
He looked over his shoulder to se very possibly one of the most beautiful men he had ever laid his golden eyes on. The stranger was pale, but not paper white, and his nearly black, short cropped and messy dark brown hair both contrasted and blended nicely with his skin. He was wearing a white shirt with a low cut neck with a gray plaid flannel over it like a jacket and stone washed jeans that fit nicely over his legs and black combat boots. A silver chain hung around his neck that matched the single small silver stud he wore in his right ear. Hazel brown eyes glittered with mirth enough to match the smirk that showed off just a hint of pearly white teeth.
"Not wha' you were expectin', huh?" the stranger chuckled.
Lain realized he was staring and quickly averted his golden gaze with a grunt.
"S'okay," the saccharine voice bounced with a light laugh, "I don' mind gettin' stared at. From you i's flatterin'."
Lain could feel the blush creeping onto his cheeks. Dear God, what was he, a teenager?
"Yes, Imma flirtin' with ya," the other man's impish grin could be heard in his voice.
"Why?" Lain grunted down at the glass his hand was comfortably wrapped around.
"So he does speak!" the stranger exclaimed teasingly.
Lain shot him a glare that would have sent most people running, but made this particular man burst out laughing.
"I'm sorry. Tha' was a little mean, huh? I prolly owe ya anotha drink for tha' one," he smirked, shaking his head then sipping the amber liquid in his glass, "Shit man, this stuff's strong."
"It's good," Lain replied, knocking back his entire glass in one go.
"Good ta know you ain't a daisy or somethin'," the stranger chuckled.
"You never answered my question," Lain reminded, curious to know what this guy would say.
"Well, guy cute as you shoulda neva been stood up like this. I's a shame really, fer tha' otha guy," the other man shrugged.
Lain raised a brow in question.
A beautifully impish grin took up residence on the pale face, and those smiling hazel eyes portrayed the truth behind the words as he spoke, "I saw ya th' moment I walked in here. The whole time you're date was here, you were sweet ta him an' he was rude ta leave ya like this. All th' betta fer me, though, 'cause I got full intentions of takin' ya home ta night."
And damn, if that blush didn't come back with a vengeance.
"Bu' first," a hand was extended to him and a hazel eye winked, "Th' name's Parker."
The brutish man hesitated for a second, a few cynical thoughts bouncing through his head before he brushed them off and then shook the offered hand.
"Lain."
A/N: This is a snippet for the Gang of Cs forum I'm on! Lain is one of my OCs that I use to RP on the forum and he's a big brutish teddy bear (the best description of him I can give is 'looks like he can kill you, can kill you, is really a cinnamon bun'). Lain has two siblings (Jacey and David who have appeared in one-shots from other forum members with permission) and they get made fun of all the time, so I figured it was Lain's turn! And so viola! We have Parker, who I now also adore.
Epilogue:
"So," Parker began, hopping up to sit on the counter next to the sink where they had just placed their dirty dishes from breakfast, "I ratha liked las' night."
Lain gave him a look and a half sly, half shy smile.
Parker grinned, reaching out to tug on Lain's bare arm and move him closer, settling the taller man's hips between his knees, "I'm kinda hopin' ta make it a regula thin'. At leas' th' talkin' bit, though th' otha stuff is nice too."
Lain leaned close and raised a brow, causing Parker to chuckle, "So whadda ya say?"
The only response the shorter man got was a deep, ravishing kiss and arms wrapped around his bare waist.
"I was hopin' you'd say tha'," Parker hummed, resting his arms on Lain's shoulders.