The bar gremlin is back. All big eyes and sly grins when things slow down enough to permit the barman a moment to chat away. She comes in enough to be considered a regular ~a vodka tonic or the occasional sea breeze~ and their circles overlap often with the people they share in common. She's mostly harmless, isn't she? Except the way she leans across the bar, something cherry-syrup sweet in her voice as she stage whispers in his direction. "So...how's ya firs' kiss wi' Baz, den?"
First Kiss Meme
"Oh my darlin'-" Ron enthused, well-used to the visits of this specific bar gremlin; sweet and harmless despite how her questions sometimes veered into territory most private. Despite how this one most definitely had though, he turned from his work shining newly cleaned glasses and poured every ounce of charm and welcome into how he approached her - all open body language, smiling eyes and lips and the flash of teeth as he came near; leant his weight into the bar; made to confide--
"It was gorgeous--"
It was in the locker room of Baz's gym. They'd fallen into a routine after work, after training; Ron tending to Baz's wrists, hands and forearms; each joint salved with Tiger Balm; each tendon and muscle warmed, carefully stretched and massaged; wounds cleaned and dressed.
"--Soft-"
Not a word was spoke between them; between Ron and his aspiring champion. They didn't speak much by nature anyway - not either man. And they found in each other a kind of understanding that meant they didn't need to, to be understood. A look did it. A change in pressure where they touched - Ron sat as he was on a low stool between Baz's knees so he could best reach where he needed to reach.
"--Came natural-"
And it had. Come natural. It'd almost come natural more than once the last few days. Tiny moments spent gathering courage. Little testing leans in, little tilts of the head toward each other, little...chanced braveries that'd either been bottled or interrupted, but not this one. Not this time.
"--Took me breaf away-"
Not a superlative. After dancing round each other for as long as they had, feeling their way closer inch by inch, time by time-- When they found themselves alone at last, leant close as the work Ron was doing required, all it'd taken was a tilt of the head. Each of them had at once, though the synchronicity was accidental. Perhaps a thought had come on that needed words to express right. Perhaps they'd wanted a better look at each other. Perhaps, perhaps...It didn't matter. That first tilt, they both pulled up short; noses brushing, a hushed-
-Sorry-
-escaping one of them, though which...It didn't matter. The other shook his head, then tilted it purposefully to turn that just-gone brush into a nuzzle. They both smiled in millimetres, listed closer as if drawn by gravity. Between them, another word-
-Please-
-and that tore it. Their lips met, and all Ron knew then beyond Bastian's taste was the ecstatic weight of want-come-relief-come-affection that settled right the way through him. It--
"--It was..."
Ron caught the words he might've said, closing his eyes a moment and shaking his head. When he focused on his bar gremlin again, his expression was soft with the affection he felt for the man he'd been talking about.
"--'Ee's...a fuckin' joy, luv. 'Onestly."
