the last thing that archie wanted to be doing right now was heading into a cellar to carry up a table, especially not with his ex-fiancé helping him. but the pair of them had been caught at the brewery by the owner, spotting the somewhat muscular men from opposite ends of the bar and immediately recruiting them to aid another customer who hadn’t been able to find somewhere to sit. archie tried to disguise the displeased look upon his face, especially when it was a sweet little old lady making the request, but he didn’t see why they couldn’t just be patient and wait for somebody else to make room for them. alas, he’d found himself without a choice in the matter and he knew that alistair was probably aware of how much he didn’t want to be a good samaritan right now. mainly because as they walked down the staircase, archie wouldn’t shut up about it.
“oh, you’re two strapping lads, can you go and help? aye, can i fuck? i just wanted to enjoy a pint in peace, man,” the younger grumbled, a shiver running through him as the air grew colder, the lower beneath the ground they got. “and who the fuck keeps tables down here? that’s what a back room is for, not a fucking cellar.” maybe if archie had actually spent some time listening to the request of the owner however, he would have remembered her specific instructions to keep the door propped open as it would otherwise lock behind them. but of course, as archie pushed the door open and let it shut behind the both of them, he hadn’t paid attention to that crucial bit of information. and it was only when they’d pulled the folded table out and he went to open up the door, did his hand simply graze over a flat surface. “ali, there isn’t a fucking door knob.” @aetenums
