It's Just The Drugs Talking, Until It's Not
Fadel is tired. He’s had a long day, made even longer due to Style and his damn antics. He can’t even seem to drink a beer and enjoy himself at a fucking bar without the other man showing up. But it’s fine. It’s…fine. Fadel has dealt with worse. He just needs a moment to breathe before he does something stupid, like reciprocating his ridiculous touches and flirtations. Because Fadel is only human. A human that jerked off just two nights ago thinking about Style and his stupid mouth and his stupid fingers and stupid fucking neck that…. Yeah, he needs a moment. “I’m going to the bathroom,” he tells him, leaving his jacket on the seat, and then slips away to splash water on his face and take a few deep breaths in order to calm himself down. But by the time he’s done talking himself into not finding Style attractive again, he notices that the man isn’t alone where he left him. There’s a sharp jawed man in Fadel’s spot, chatting Style up. Fadel's first instinct is to walk away. The mechanic has been a pain in his ass for weeks now, so he shouldn't give a shit about someone hitting on him. In fact, he should probably give the bastard a free meal for taking his focus away from Fadel, but then he notices something strange. The man leaning into Style's space isn't alone. There's another guy with bleached hair and a bad neck tattoo watching them closely from a table away, eyes trained on where Style is gripping the bar as his suitor runs a hand along his arm. Style bats it away and even from this distance Fadel can hear him say, “I'm flattered, but no, thanks.” The guy isn't deterred, though. He just smiles sweetly and says something else that has Style shaking his head before he abruptly stands up. Bad tattoo guy rises too when Style starts to walk away and reaches out for him as he stumbles forward. He catches Style easily. “Careful there, Nong.You’re lucky I was here.” Style doesn't even say thank you, he just tries to step away from the guy, but almost falls again, movements uncoordinated as he pulls out of his grasp. Now, Fadel has been watching Style most of the night and the menace has only had three drinks at most. The last one he'd been sipping on, he had left at the bar to accost Fadel on the dance floor, but then he'd retrieved it when he'd followed Fadel to his spot at the other side. Had these guys been here then? He tries to remember, brain flipping through all of faces he's seen since he walked in, but he just can't place them. He'd been too focused on Style and how he'd brought Fadel's hand to his neck, and how hard he had been flirting to pay attention to the other patrons. “Shit-what are you doin-” he hears Style mutter as the first guy materializes next to him. and then suddenly he's gone, disappearing into a throng of people. Fuck. A part of Fadel starts to panic because all the signs of Style being roofied are here. He left his drink. He's slurring his words and unsteady on his feet and not just one, but two men were right there, ready and waiting for him to stumble. And Fadel… He knows where this leads. So, he quickly pushes his way through the dancing crowd to find the man before he ends up another statistic.