Is this how the gif thing works? 😅
Look at you, feedin’ the Slate x Bennett flame. Why do you always manage to bring out this side of me????
Stamford, CT
Kings of Con, Richard Slate x Rob Bennett, Rated T for fluff and feelings, minor angst, bi!Rich, bi!Rob. 274 words.
“What. A. Complete. Clusterfuck.” Rob griped, taking a big gulp of his beer. “I’m telling you, Rich, things keep going like this, I’m gonna end up sad, lonely, and bitter. Like Kurt. Ugh.”
Rich scoffed and threw back his shot, setting the glass down before turning to his best friend.
“C’mon, Bob-O. So you struck out with one chick. It ain’t the end of the world.”
“Not just one chick, Richie. One chick tonight, sure; three yesterday, and two guys; one of each the night before that. This entire weekend has been nothing but strikes. I’m officially out.”
Rich sighed and flagged down the bartender, paying off their tab. He watched Rob as he finished his beer, making up his mind on the internal dilemma he’d been debating the whole night. When Rob set the empty glass on the bar, Rich stood from his stool, grabbing Rob’s hand and tugging him with him through the small crowd and out the door before his friend could question him.
Once outside, he whirled around to face Rob, urging him against the brick wall of the grubby local bar. He crowded closer as Rob looked back at him, eyes filled with confusion.
“Rich, what’re you doin’?”
“Showing you that you’ll never end up sad, lonely, and bitter, Robbie. Not if I can help it.”
He stepped up against Rob, hand still clasped with his, the other bracing against brick to cage him in. Rich leaned in slowly, giving Rob the time to realize where this was going, time to object, to back out, duck under Rich’s arm and laugh it off. He didn’t.
“Fuck, Rich. You promise?”