Under Different Circumstances
Club/Métro
Dear stomach, CALME TOI.
Disclaimer: Really original title. I've had this idea since June. JUNE. Métro part was inspired by two guys I saw at that time.
Under Different Circumstances
Club/Métro
It would have been a quiet evening at home, if Vincent didn't act like an immature child and if Jean-Pierre didn't take everything so seriously, once more. Vincent was slightly bored and wanted to do something, but Jean-Pierre was exhausted and wanted to take it easy. It eventually led to a small spat between the two and prompted Vincent to call up some of his friends and ask if they wanted to go out.
He felt no qualms in getting dressed and sprucing himself up, before he grabbed his coat and left their home without as much as a second glance to Jean-Pierre. At least his friends weren't four hundred plus year old stingy provinces, or so he thought to himself.
Jean-Pierre, on the other hand, decided to let Vincent do whatever he wanted to and stay at home and relax. It wasn't that he didn't want to go out with Vincent, but between hockey practices four times a week, snow shovelling and overtime at work almost every day during the past week, he wanted to chill at home.
He was going to stay in bed and not even bother running after Vincent, but the more time went by, the more he became fidgety, until he remembered that every time Vincent went out, he always got more attention than he needed and never knew how to turn those damn wandering hands away.
With an exasperated sigh, Jean-Pierre got out of bed, threw on some more appropriate clothing, before running to the closet to get his things and then went after his lover. He thanked whatever higher being there might have existed that he overheard the location of Vincent's whereabouts and made his way there.
Of course, with his great luck, it just had to happen that Vincent's car was in Ontario, since he went to pick him up from there last time and that his own car was at the shop, since some asshole had driven into it last week.
Therefore, he had no choice but to take the bus and the métro to the place. He counted his lucky stars that the club where Vincent went to was in a busy part of the city, so the busses passed more frequently.
By the time he got there, he found a massive line waiting to get into the place. He had half a mind to show his special status ID card, but when he came to take it out, he found that the only thing he had in his pockets was his work ID and that his wallet also stayed at home. He couldn't even bribe the bouncer.
He could feel his impatience growing, as he waited in line with the other idiots, who were trying to get in and he found himself thanking the heavens, once more that at least it wasn't such a cold night. Naturally, by the time he thought that, the winds picked up and then he had no shame in cursing everything and everyone he knew.
Finally, by the time he was able to get in, almost two hours had passed. He walked into the club and his ears were immediately assaulted with the loud, blaring music. There were people dancing all over the place and he seriously wondered how he was going to find Vincent. He made an attempt to start looking on one side, but the crowd was so dense that he quickly gave up.
Jean-Pierre tried formulating a plan in his head, but he could barely think. He continued perusing the crowds and quickly came to the realisation that with two floors and many little sub sections to the club, finding his husband would be nearly impossible. For all he knew, Vincent could be in the bathroom, or he and his friends could have decided to go to a different club, because of the line up and that just pissed him off further still.
He was about to call it quits and wait for Vincent at home, but then he heard the dancers' start cat calling, whistling and generally appreciating something. He stopped and turned around to see.
He was glad he did for there, a few feet away from him, amongst the thick crowd of people, was his dear, beloved husband, his darling little Vincent, who got up on a table and was dancing to the rhythm of the music, with a drink in hand. His whole world just stopped.
This was why he couldn't leave Vincent out partying alone. He always ended up doing silly (stupid) things and with the crowd the way it was… Jean-Pierre shuddered at the thought. He zeroed in on the younger man and started making his way to the table, not caring who he was pushing, or if he just pulled apart two people who were enjoying their moment.
By the time he got there, Vincent was down from the table, but he was still dancing. His friends were around him, however, there was some man, a random man, some man that Jean-Pierre never saw and that he was sure Vincent did not know that was dancing too close and too intimately with his husband for his liking. Vincent was of course too drunk to tell the difference and Jean-Pierre picked up his pace to set things straight.
He placed his arm possessively around Vincent's waist and pulled him close to his body, before whispering loud enough into Vincent's ear words that always got to him, all the while glaring at the stranger.
The man must have understood that he should step away if he wanted to be able to tell the tale, for after one look into Jean-Pierre's piercing, cold, blue eyes, he backed away and looked as though he wanted to crawl into a little hole and die there.
Jean-Pierre smirked darkly at the man, as he watched him squirm with discomfort and leave. Beside him, Vincent was still trying to understand what just transgressed, until he turned around and saw that his husband was there.
"Jean!" He exclaimed before latching on to him. He quickly let go about a second later when he remembered that he had a dispute with the older man, a few hours ago.
"On peut tu s'parler ailleurs?"/ "Can we talk somewhere else?" Jean-Pierre asked over the noise. Vincent nodded and went to tell his friends he was leaving. When he came back, Julie decided to tag along.
"About time you showed up! I was starting to think there was no hope for you." Jean-Pierre tried glaring at her, but it didn't have the same effect.
"Yeah, yeah, the cold glare of steal. It won't work on me, buddy. You should've been here two hours ago. He's completely smashed now. Get him some fresh air and water and get the hell out." She told him with a big smile. He said nothing to that, as he simply pulled his giggling husband out of the club and got him a bottle of water. It always amazed him how particular Vincent's friends were.
They walked for a bit in silence, until they came across a bench. They sat down and Vincent drank his water silently. Jean-Pierre observed him and noticed his gradual change, as he sobered up some. If they were to talk, it would be best if they were both semi coherent.
"J'm'excuse de t'avoir ignoré, mon cœur."/ "I'm sorry I ignored you, my love." He finally said.
"S'okay… I shouldn't have pushed you so much… chais qu'té fatigué."/ "… I know you're tired." Jean-Pierre took the younger man's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Vincent smiled at him and squeezed back as well.
"On r'tourne tu à la maison ou veux-tu r'tourner danser?"/ "D'you wanna go back home or d'you wanna go back dancing?" Vincent thought about it for a moment and Jean-Pierre found himself thinking he looked adorable with his lips slightly jutted out and his brow knit in concentration.
"Maison… j'ai froid… z'veux un câlin."/ "Home… I'm cold… want a hug." Vincent stuck out his arms towards him and even if he wanted to say no, Jean-Pierre could never resist that adorable pout. He hugged his lover for a moment, before taking off his scarf and wrapping it around his partner's neck.
"Allez, viens."/ "Come on, let's go." He helped Vincent up and the two started heading towards the métro. Jean-Pierre slung his arm around Vincent's shoulders, while the younger man nuzzled into his side. As they waited for the métro, in the warmth, Vincent got on his tippy toes and kissed him lightly on the neck. Jean-Pierre turned around to look at him and found him smiling up to him.
"Ça va?"/ "You okay?" He asked him. Vincent nodded and gave him another smile.
"Z'veux un baiser."/ "I wanna a kiss." Jean-Pierre could tell his lover was drunk by his tone of voice, but kissed him on the cheek to make him happy.
"Non… là."/ "No… there." Vincent pointed to his lips and Jean-Pierre rolled his eyes, half-amused and half-exasperated, before leaning over and giving him a quick, chaste kiss.
"Jeaaaaaaan…" Vincent whined. "Comme il faut!"/ "Properly!" He scolded. Jean-Pierre sighed once more, before kissing him again, but this time making sure Vincent would be satisfied with it. It seemed to do the trick and Vincent responded back to it hungrily; not that he minded.
The métro finally arrived and it was just as packed as it always was. Jean-Pierre leaned against the wall close to the door and put his arms around Vincent's waist to make sure he wouldn't topple over. The shorter man leaned his head against his chest and occasionally looked up to kiss him again. Too bad if people were watching; it would give them something to talk about.
"Tu sais je t'aime, right?"/ "You know I love you, right?" Vincent murmured to him after another kiss. His words were slurred but Jean-Pierre knew they were honest.
"Oui mon cœur, je sais."/ "Yes my love, I know."
"Jeaaan, tu chais c'qu'on devrait faire en rentrant?"/ "Jeaaan, y'know what we should do when we get in?" The best thing to do when Vincent was drunk was to humour him and go with the flow, or so he found out.
"On devrait… on devrait prendre une douche ensemble… chuis tout sweaty… pis j'veux pas tomber… pis me hurter…"/ "We should… we should take a shower tog'ther… 'M all sweaty… and I don't wanna fall… and get hurt…" Jean-Pierre tightened his arms around him and nibbled on his neck in response.
"Une excellente idée, mon coeur…"/ "An excellent idea, my love…" He whispered against his skin.
OWARI 36
I do accept anonymous reviews.
Started writing: February 8th 2011, 4:46pm
Finished writing: February 9th 2011, 11:39am
Started typing: February 18th 2011, 1:02pm
Finished typing: February 18th 2011, 6:26pm