cw/tags: erectile dysfunction(reader is into it), degradation, age gap, alcohol, drunk leon, leon is lowk pathetic, bartender reader, reader is kind of mean(totally not slightly based off of an oc of mine iykyk), reader smokes cigarettes
word count: 1194
summary: leon is reader's ex, who is trying to find a new regular bar after their breakup, and comes across them at their new job.
You started your new job about a week ago, at a newer bar in town. The old place sucked anyways, shitty weird ass creepy boss, same way with most of the customers. Except Leon. Your Leon. Well maybe he sucked too. Yeah, he did. It was complicated. But he didn’t go there anymore anyway, not after they broke up.
You hadn’t thought of him all night—totally not like you usually did…—too busy with learning the ins and outs of the new place, and very busy with a lot of customers. It was only halfway through your shift and you’d made more tips than you ever had at the old place. Due to this, you were a happy camper on your first day.
Then, you saw him. Out of the corner of your eye. Thought, no, it’s someone else. What the hell would Leon be doing in a place like this? Then you’re caught up in making another drink. Too busy, you forgets about it. Until now he’s sitting at your bar.
So it is him. Memories come flooding in, that same look on his face as the first time Leon had sat at the bar, ordered that damn bourbon. You snap out of it whenever someone asks for another drink, and goe to fill it.
All the patrons are taken care of. Only leaving Leon now. You take the few steps to the other end of the bar, pouring him that same shitty ass bourbon he always drank.
“I’m sorr-“
“What’re you-“
You speak at the same time. Leon pauses and lets out a deep sigh, wrapping his fingers around the glass, pulling it closer to him on the counter, but not taking a drink.
“Thought I’d find a new bar. Since you worked at the old one. Looks like that didn’t work out too well.” He sighs again, tracing the rim of the glass.
You stay silent for a beat, eyes stuck on Leon’s fingers on the glass. That glass, that brown liquid filling it, the whole damn reason you broke up. Ironic. The reason you met, and roundabout the reason you parted.
At first, it was fun, basically spending your whole shift with your boyfriend. Then it turned into Leon going on missions, being gone for weeks, and drinking to forget when he was home.
You’d dated for the better half of a year, and most of it was good. Only the last couple months were tough. It’s been… Almost six months since you broke up. And you weren’t over him. Of course you weren’t. How could you get over someone like Leon? But you had to remind yourself, it didn’t work out for a reason, right?
Leon mutters your name, that low rasp in his voice, telling he’d already probably drank at home. You shake your head, “Yeah, just… Okay.” you mumble, turning on your heel to get back to the other customers.
It’s about thirty minutes before you have time to stop and talk to Leon again, and it’s slowed down a bit. You also had a little time to think about… this. Whatever this is.
Filling up Leon’s drink again, you flatten your palm on the counter, still not meeting his eye, “My break’s in 30 minutes. Meet me outside.”
And that’s all he gets until your cover switches out with you, only about 15 minutes late. Of course.
Leon was beginning to think he’d gotten lied to, told to go outside and you weren’t coming. But as soon as he’s about to head out, you round the corner into the alley.
You’re lighting a cigarette as you step in front of Leon, looking up at him, meeting his eye for the first time that night. At least you couldn’t see those beautiful blue eyes in the darkness.
“You’re sorry. That’s what you started to say. Explain yourself, asshole.” You prompt, taking another puff of your cigarette. You knew Leon hated you smoking, but you hated Leon’s drinking.
It’s a few moments of gathering his thoughts before Leon starts to try to explain, “I’m sorry for how I treated you… Or… Didn’t treat you, I guess. I fucked up big time… You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ve been doing better- and I miss you so-“ He scratches the back of his neck, a nervous tick, and gets cut off.
You toss your cigarette to the ground, grabbing Leon’s shirt and tugging him down to kiss you. Your lips taste of those damn cigarettes that Leon hates, but it’s familiar. It’s You.
Pulling away, there’s a look in your eyes that Leon knows too well. You’re on your knees before Leon can even think about it. You’re far enough in the alleyway to be hidden enough. Not that you gave a shit.
“So’s this apology accepted?” Leon quips. Sarcastic asshole. You roll your eyes at him in return, “Whadda you think?” You return in the same tone, cocking a brow at him.
Your fingers tug at Leon’s belt, the metallic clang of the buckle opening lost in the bustling of the street only several feet away. As soon as his pants are open, those same fingers are slipping under the waistband of boxers, exposing Leon’s–still soft?– cock to the outside air. Leon hisses, his head tipping back against the brick wall behind him.
You pause, wrapping your fingers around Leon, giving a squeeze and a slow stroke. Not so much as a twitch in return. You tilt your head, looking up at the blonde, who winces. It wasn’t anything you weren’t familiar with from your previous time together. Leon’s excessive drinking was what the two of you had determined to be the culprit. But you didn’t ever particularly mind. Some fucked up part of your brain thought it was hot, if you were honest. And the headspace it put Leon in was always enjoyable in some sadistic fucked up way.
Leon doesn’t say a word for a moment, about to stammer an apology. Then you strokes him again, pulling back his foreskin and laving your tongue over his frenulum, winning yourself the prize of an almost whiny cut off moan from him instead.
You kiss your way up the length, running your tongue from base to tip, still nothing other than a couple twitches. Leon grabs your hair, tugging you away just slightly, “I- Sorry, baby…” The name slips out as if it hasn’t been the greater half of a year since he’s used it.
Standing back up, you nuzzle your nose into Leon’s jaw, muttering in his ear as you tug his pants back up for him, “You’re pathetic. Come back to me and you can’t even get it up. You’re lucky I have some fucked up turn ons. Maybe you’re right to come back… Who else is gonna date someone with a limp dick?” You practically purr in Leon’s ear.
This time Leon–the going on 50 year old man–whines. He nods, “I- I know baby… I told you I fucked up.”
You nip at Leon’s neck, then pull back to peck his lips, “Come by my place. You know where the spare key is.”
That summer was so easy somehow. I was easy. You were easy. Nothing really mattered and everything was okay. Days in the heat, kicking empty bottles, flipping Luckies, talking nonstop or not saying anything at all.
When we dumped all our shit out the window, let our breaths stink of smoke, let our hair grow wild, let our skin burn till it peeled.
Neither of us lived anywhere then… but every new place we were together was always home.
It was nice to live in our own world together.
I wonder if we were both running away from the things we didn't want to face, instead letting tequila scorch our throats and laughing away the nights.
I think of it sometimes. When I don't see you… or when I see you too much. Back when there were far fewer stresses, our pockets were really truly empty, but we never felt more alive.
I'm sorry we can never be those people again…
-
Was feeling the melancholic homoerotic summer this week while it's been getting sunnier and warmer... pre-canon or au, open to interpretation
To add: don't ask who took the ''photos'', idfk I just thought mock photographs were kinda a vibe and pls don't smoke as much as I've made these fuckers smoke....
I like playing with the idea that one of the few mutual love languages between Jimmy and Curly being the time they might have both smoked. (regardless of whether you want to view it as platonic or romantic)
origamiaround
germansingergirl
prguitarman
