(I know I'm late) For @whumptober Day 1
No. 1 A LITTLE OUT OF THE ORDINARY
Adverse Effects | Unconventional Restraints | “This wasn’t supposed to happen”
No. 2 NOWHERE TO RUNCornered | Caged | Confrontation
Vince belongs to @ashintheairlikesnow
TW: intimate whumper, Owen is a smarmy bastard, noncon touch, stalking, staring,
Vince spent every waking second for the past four years hiding his relationships. Privately hoping that when he does go out that no one would see or if they saw, they wouldn’t send photos to some gossip rag.
Now, after someone snapped a photo, Dmitri stands at Vince’s side in the corner of a giant event center, dressed to the nine. For the first and most nerve racking time, Vince decided to bring Dmitri to one of these godforsaken networking events. Everyone dances around the room, laughing through the haze of wine and champagne. Little tables with hors d'oeuvres dot the room. A long table that had plates on it an hour ago sits behind him.
Dmitri runs his thumb across Vince’s knuckles and he squeezes his hand. His co-stars for his last project stand in front of him, barely sober laughter floating between them. Vince also holds a champagne glass, lazily swirling the contents as he idly listens. Dmitri’s the only one who hasn’t touched alcohol tonight.
“I have to say Vince,” Anastasia laughs as she gestures towards Dmitri. Her smile is bright, flashing in the chandelier light, and coated in a thin haze of tipsiness, “Congrats on getting married.”
Vince returns the smile which is only half an act as he rotates his wedding ring, “Thanks.”
Paul, who was substantially more intoxicated than his girlfriend, looks up at Dmitri and asks with a cockeyed smirk, “What’s it like, married to one of the hottest men in America.”
Dmitri chuckles, flashing a quiet smile, “I wouldn’t know, ask my husband.”
Vince playfully rolls his eyes as he takes another sip of champagne. His eyes flick from each of his co-stars as they laugh along with Dmitri. Vince leans into his shoulder, trying to not look down at his watch. Time is molasses with so many eyes and drunken laughter.
“Speaking of,” Dmitri says as he turns to Vince, returning the squeeze, “I’m going to grab more food, you want anything while I’m over there.”
“I'll take anything really,” Vince says as he swirls the liquor again. He watches the white liquid swish around in the glass as Dmitri steps away. The absence left from Dmitri’s hand is surprisingly cold and Vince fights the urge to reach out after him.
It’s just until ten, you’ll be fine.
Vince quickly feels eyes on him, not that the shield he’d been rubbing shoulders with all night is gone. He shifts slightly as his co-stars exchange words, smiling without any care. Anastasia, who Vince knows for a fact loves these events, turns to him and chuckles, “Even married you still draw eyes.”
Vince would rather shave his head into the floor and fade from existence than be the center of attention. His grip tightens slightly around the small glass as he takes a long sip.
“Sorry?” Vince raises an eyebrow and tosses on the intrigued smile he’s perfected over the years, “What do you mean?”
Vince glances over his shoulder and instantly rips his head forward. There was barely second where the two looked at each other. The sensation of eyes on him grows sharp and puts stkes through his feet. He wants to run or atleast find somewhere where he cn hide. Yet, not a fiber in his body even contemplates moving. Glued to the spot, Vince returns his gae to Anastasia and just shakes his head, pretending to be nonchalant.
Owen leans on that table behind him, a glass of either whiskey or wine, Vince didn’t look long enough to see for sure. He doesn’t want to know.
“Weren’t you two like two peas in a pod when you two started,” Paul says as his words just barely slur for a second as he sets his glass down on the table behind them. He practically stares at Owen over his shoulder, not helping the burning and boring feeling of eyes into the back of his head.
“We worked together when I was young,” Vince murmurs as his voice falters somewhat. He can barely move. Drinking the last of his champagne, Vince walks over to the table and ets the glass down before stepping away just enough to put a hair more distance between the two.
He never wanted a conversation to end quicker.
“Please,” Anastasia jokes, “Who doesn’t think you're attractive Vince? Dmitri’s lucky”
Vince gives a half chuckle, his voice quieter than he’d hoped, “I’m the lucky one out of the two of us.”
Not right now, that’s for sure.
Footsteps echo up to them, almost sauntering right behind him. They plant themselves directly behind Vince and fear starts to rise up his spine. He wants to crawl into his skin and never come out and he doesn’t dare look behind him.
Dmitri, please come back.
“It’s been a minute Vince,” Owen starts as he nearly steps into Vince. Vince freezes, he can feel the gap behind him close and the tables loom on either side of him. Then, Vince feels a hand reach down and grab him from behind.
Vince flinches and steps closer to the table, neary walking into it. He looks over and curses himself to already standing in a literal corner between two of the heavy wooden tables.
“Speak of the devil,” Paul says as he smiles at Owen, “It’s been a minute since I’ve seen you.”
Trying to inch away, he steps closer to the table and backwards, putting distance but also locking him into the corner. Vince stares into the table cloth and feels the weights pin his feet on the floor.
His breath catches in his chest, his legs feel like they're filled with lead.
Seconds that feel like hours tick by as Owen jokes with the other two. Owen, once the other two are distracted by something elsewhere, reaches out for Vince again. He inches into the table, his hip pressing against the cloth.
“Speaking of,” Paul waves and takes Anastasia by the hand, “We have to catch Hank before he disappears into the night, see you two around.”
Before Vince can say or do anything, they both step away, leaving Vince alone with Owen. Terror is an understatement.
Owen takes a step forward, and Vince wishes he could walk through the table behind him.
“I didn’t know you were the marriage type Vince,” Owen’s cheerful demeanor slowly begins to evaporate as he takes another step closer.
The weight of Owen’s gaze holds him in place as he looms within a foot of Vince’s face.
“Hell,” Owen chuckles darkly, “I didn’t even know you were dating someone.”
A heavier gait than Owen’s echoes behind them. Vince glances over his shoulder for a half a second and sees Dmitri slide a plate over on the other side.
Owen practically jumps back.
“So there is more fish over there than I care to eat tonight,” Dmitri says as he starts around the table, “I brought you-”
Vince throws a look behind him at Dmitri. He can already start to feel himself shake as Owen’s demeanor lightens up. He watches Dmitri’s face fall flat. If Vince hadn’t known him for as long as he’d had, he’d probably assume he was angry.
The second he gets around the table, Dmitri steps between Vince and Owen. Vince, shuffling behind his husband, hides his face and lets out a trembling breath. Vince only looks past Dmitri when he sees Owen almost step back in surprise.
He towers over Owen. Vince knew that Dmitri is significantly taller than Owen since they were about the same height and he still had to physically look up to meet Dmitri’s eyes. But, the sheer foot of height difference is incredibly glaring as Owen shrinks down slightly. Owen looks tiny in comparison. Almost puny.
“Well,” Owen starts, the aggression in his voice deflating like a stabbed balloon, “I assume that you’re Dmitri?”
“I am,” Dmitri says, voice flat and nearly devoid of emotion, “You’re Owen.”
Vince watches Owen pale, the certainty in Dmitri’s voice leaching the color from his skin. A dash of regret flashes across his face for a microsecond. Owen takes a large step back and flashes a camera smile, the bes act he’s ever given, “I have to say Congratu-
“We’re not starting this conversation, you can go.”
Owen cocks his head to the side, relatively gaining his bearings. He blinks, feigning ignorance. It’s almost believable. “I’m sorry but I don’t under-”
“No,” Dmitri states with enough sternness in his voice to set even Vince off guard. Dmitri's jovial and laughing tone is long gone. Vince glances up at him and feels Dmitri’s hand take his and squeezes it, rubbing his thumb across his knuckles again. “And you know damn well why.”
Owen’s face twitches, destain leaking through the act. He looks through Dmitri and down at Vince, “I didn’t know that you were into the possessive type Vince.”
Vince steps behind Dmitri and stares into his back, silently begging for Owen to just leave him alone. Take the damned hint.
Vince closes his eyes and he hears Owen sigh and mutter something under his break before stomping off. His saunter is just as gone as his bravado.
Every fiber in Vince’s body still refuses to budge. Dmitri turns around and takes Vince’s other hand, whispering, “You’re alright. You’re safe Vee.”
