Note: Sorry that it took so long, I though when I update, I'll update with the beated version
o
It's Friday as John appears in the bar again. It doesn't rain but it's cold outside and he's just killed a guy who couldn't pay his rent. His boss ordered, John followed.
John drinks three glasses of whiskey, then pays and leaves a big tip for the barkeeper.
"It's on the house tonight son," Carson says, and smiles.
"I want to pay."
He pushes the money back across the counter, takes his hat and walks out. He has his car a bit further down the street, parked out of sight of the main thoroughfare. It had been a tight one this time, a neighbour had called the cops and Grodin had put up a struggle.
He stares at the sky while walking and remembers his mom and the stars, the stories of far away kingdoms and lost cities.
"Hey! Hey! You!"
He turns around and the piano player runs down the street behind him. His hair is all messed up and he wears an apron. Fine, he doesn't just make music, John ponders.
"Hello…" John drawls.
"Yeah, yeah hello," Rodney repeats. "You… I…" He gestures and points. "Look, I just, I wanted to say… wanted to say thank you."
"Thank you?"
"Yeah, I'm not good at this… but…you helped me, and I suppose I have to say something…"
His hands fly and his eyes sparkle from the streetlights. John is drawn to those eyes like a moth to the light. He bites back the feeling he can't feel, the feeling he isn't allowed and doesn't want, because it always comes with pain.
"No need to thank me…"
He just turns around and walks on, his car already in sight.
"Hey, wait…" Rodney calls and jogs after him. "You know I have better things to do than run behind you, would you just stop for a moment there? Hey!"
John stops, but doesn't want to turn around.
"You could at least turn around when I'm talking to you!" Rodney snaps and pulls John around by his arm.
He can snarl back. "What do you want?!"
"Uh…"
He doesn't know how Rodney ended up so close, so near he can smell the kitchen and the sweat, water and alcohol, different from blood and death. It's idiotic to stand here with a man he barely knows and… He stops thinking and their lips touch.
The kiss is short and warm, then John pushes the other man back, hard. He turns and runs, well, not runs but leaves, gets into his car and drives off.
o
Two weeks. It takes two weeks and a dead real estate agent before he even sets foot in that part of the city again, let alone visits the bar. It's a dark night so close to freezing that the tips of his ears pulse painfully as he enters the smoky room.
The beauty is on stage again and sings of beautiful dreams, lost loves. She seems to have something with all the sad songs, but the sadness comes with the music; she's just tagging along.
He walks over to the bar and watches.
Rodney's hands fly over the instrument and his eyes stay closed; he's feeling the music, living it, making it come alive. John sighs and orders a glass of whiskey, but the burn isn't enough this time.
It's not nearly enough.
Everest, the real estate agent, had a wife and three kids, a white fence and a dog. Now he has a hole in his chest and ashes. He doesn't like his job on nights like this.
The devil has his soul.
Sometimes he wants the cops to take him down, wants Caldwell to get him and bring him to prison – the Family wouldn't even let him survive the trial.
He orders his second glass and wonders if Lorne would be his killer, smooth and with a smile.
Yes, probably Lorne.
He gets up and leaves before the music ends, he can't take it.
o
It's a classic the next time. Not even he knows how many he had hit; a small warning for the other families not to mess with his branch of the big tree.
"Have you heard about the Pizzeria this afternoon?" One of the guys in the bar mutters to the other, as John sits not far away and empties his first glass.
"Yeah, 16 dead and 4 wounded…"
John closes his eyes and sets the glass down. It didn't feel like he had hit more than maybe six; Lorne probably had a good score this time. God, John sighed, he was getting old.
"I heard they didn't pay their debts…" Nope, they didn't, not in time anyway.
As he opens his eyes the next glass stands there.
"Here son…" Carson smiles, a knowing smile, he can probably read eyes too. John frowns back, but takes the glass. The barkeeper knows him by now, knows what he wants after... Perhaps even what he is.
Rodney stomps out of the kitchen with a tray of glasses as John grabs the whiskey. They stare at each other for a couple of moments, endless blue staring back at him. John decides to leave, just leave and get the hell out of there this time, gets up and just goes away.
He hurries down the street and curses the fact that he has left his car even further away this time, parked in the yard of one of the warehouses.
"What the hell is it with you and the running?!" Rodney is faster this time, and louder too.
"You started it," he snaps, and glares.
"Me?" Rodney blinks. "You run every time, I just have to follow, and don't dare to drive off like the last time…"
"Well, I will try to fight the urge…" One urge at least, John thinks.
"Ha, ha… Funny."
"Yeah, well, I am." He glares and Rodney glares back. Damn the eyes, damn the man.
The kiss comes as fast as the last one, but this time it's open and messy. Whiskey and a hint of coffee mixing, tongues dancing - John can't remember the last time he had this.
His mind wants to ask him why he is kissing a man he barely knows, again; wants to know why exactly he's so keen on doing this to Rodney, and he decides he doesn't know or care for that matter.
"What the..?" Eventually they part and he pants, it's cold enough by now to see thick clouds of warm air coming from his mouth, mixing with Rodney's breath – his lips are wet and slightly swollen.
"Yeah…" What the hell, he probably dies tomorrow.
He is the one moving forward and capturing Rodney's lips this time, he's searching for the coffee and fixing Rodney's head with his hands, holding him in place.
"Yeah," he mumbles, panting. "Yeah…"
They reach his car, thank God parked in a lonely place – he's glad now – and John pushes Rodney onto the backseat. It's surprisingly big and the cream coloured leather is soft, or John just thinks it is, because he has Rodney above him and that would make even a gravel road bearable for his back.
"Clothes…" Rodney pants, touching everywhere, fumbling for his shirt, for his belt and everything all at once. "Clothes…"
"Wait…"
He's better at undoing his belt, less frantic and Rodney kisses him again as he's finally free, grabs directly for the hard dick and pulls him out into the chilly air.
Rodney can talk music with his hands and, oh God, with his mouth. "Oh God…"
It goes too fast compared to John's last time, but he doesn't care and gives as he takes.
TBC