TW: Modern Day!AU, Alcohol

Alex Parvis considered himself a very observant man. Perhaps that was just his way of making 'a people watcher' sound less creepy, but it was what it was. And if he sometimes lost himself in watching the world tick by, well, that was his business and nobody else's. And this 'hobby' was how he found himself sat at a dark bar, late at night, observing and thinking. Normally, his days were uneventful at best, boring at worst. He'd found himself in what most would call a 'rut', and for all the jokes he made about it, it was starting to drain him. Fresh out of college with no job, riding on the promise of a band that felt like it was failing more and more each day...He sighed and took another drink, ignoring the dry taste and how it reminded him of cardboard. He wasn't quite at the point of drowning his sorrows in alcohol, but it certainly felt like it. The thought made him take another
drink, this time accompanied by a groan, as he looked around the bar.

Despite the late hour, the Crooked Caber was as busy as ever. Crowds of people milled around the dancefloor and pool tables, and in the far corner a fight was starting. Parv watched it for a few moments, mouth curved into a smirk as one of the bouncers made their way across the floor to deal with it, only to be pulled into the fray of drunken shouting and punching. He was pretty sure fights were a common occurence here, but that didn't make them any less entertaining. Bless the Crooked Caber.

Despite it's reputation for serving the worst alcohol around, it still managed to pull its weight. Probably the illegal stuff Ravs sold. He looked up again and began to search the crowded room for the bartender, if only so he could have some company. Instead, he found himself making eye contact with a very distressed looking man. A moment passed between them before he looked away again, but Parvis didn't miss him mouthing a very obvious, "Help me."

It was a familiar sight. Some tall, muscled bloke crowding into someone much smaller's space, asking all kinds of invasive questions. He couldn't hear the conversation, but judging by the blond's expression and the uncomfortable smirk on the other man's face, that was exactly what was happening. Normally the bouncers or some everyday hero helped break up the situations, but judging by how big the crowd in the corner had grown, the bouncers were probably out of action. That meant it was down to him.

Underneath the tabletop, he cracked his knuckles and stood up.

Both of them looked up as he made his way over and slid himself into the seat next to the blond. The look of gratitude he recieved in return bolstered his confidence and he met the taller man's eyes, quirking an eyebrow for effect.

"Well, what do we have here?" He smiled as wide as he could, fully aware his expression now bordered on creepy. The taller man, or 'Massive Dickhole' as Parv had so fittingly nicknamed him, almost took a step back. That was good. He liked it when he had that effect on people. He blinked and cocked his head to the side, keeping his eyes firmly trained on his opponent. "I certainly hope it's not what I think it is."

In response, 'Massive Dickhole' grunted and, in a way that could only be described as elegant, began to curse.

"Th' fuck do you think you are?" He slurred and lurched forward, and in unison Parv and the blond leaned back. "Go back to drinkin' alone, pretty boy. You ain't wanted here." 'Massive Dickhead' moved his eyes away from Parv to the other and leered. "Right, sweetheart?"

"No." The blond replied evenly, right as Parv pulled his arm back and punched the wanker in the face. He stumbled back, gasping as he clutched his (hopefully bleeding) nose, then broke right back into shouting and cursing. He had a hard time understanding, but judging by the way he was gesturing towards the dancefloor and raising his fists, he was probably threatening to get him kicked out. Or beaten up. Or both.

Parv laughed and leaned against the bar, dismissing him with a wave that he knew from experience was infuriating. "Go ahead and try, sweetheart." He layered his voice with honey, still grinning from ear to ear as he talked. "But I've sucked off at least three of the bouncers here, so they owe me favours. Favours I won't hesitate to use on you!"

Apparently that information was too much for him, and with a groan the assailant stumbled back into the darkness of the bar. A few seconds later, and he was gone. The air almost felt still in the aftermath, despite the fight that had definitely developed into a full-blown brawl, and he looked down at the blonde he'd apparently just saved.

Green eyes stared evenly back, and for a few seconds neither of them said anything. Then Parvis grinned and turned back to the bar, waving over a bartender in an easy motion.

"What do you want?" He offered. "You look like you need a drink after that." The blond simply blinked in reply, then shook his head, opening his mouth to probably protest. Parvis got there first.

"I mean, I wouldn't mind knowing your name, either. 'Cute blond with green eyes' doesn't really roll of the tongue." He resisted the urge to wink and say, 'But I know something that might', because he wasn't a massive dickhole that made sex jokes about people he didn't know. His now-companion stuttered for a few seconds before relenting, sighing out his name in a way that was positively adorable.

"William Strife." He answered shortly. "And I'll just take...something strong, I don't know. Shouldn't I be the one buying drinks?" He sounded tired, Parv noted, like he was doing everything because he had to and not because he wanted to. He frowned, curiosity tugging at him, but he pushed it down in favour of making the man - Strife - more at ease. He flashed a smile and leaned forward towards the bartender with a wink. "Two baileys. Less ice. Thanks." He turned back to Strife, who'd turned away from him, and tapped him on the shoulder. "I hope you have a sweet tooth, Strifey. If not...Well, you'll get used to it." He giggled again, watching with amusement the way Strife's face gave away his confusion, then eventual resignation.

"I didn't get your name." His voice was still tired, but less so than before, and Parv couldn't tell if it was because he was forcing it to sound that way or not. He didn't reply, instead choosing to trace Strife's features with his eyes. He reminded Parv of a blunt knife, or maybe a rock. Features that seemed slightly dulled, but still striking enough to catch an eye or two. His eyes, despite his bright complextion, seemed to be in constant shadow, but still managed to be breathtakingly goegeous. He was interesting, Parv eventually decided. And Parv loved interesting things.

An almost comfortable silence settled between them as their drinks arrived. Every few minutes or so, Strife looked at him, clearly still expecting an answer. On the third glance Parv turned to meet his stare evenly, and finally answered, "Alex. Parvis to friends and lovers." He smirked again. "You can choose which to use." He waited for Strife's reaction, watched as his shadowed green eyes blinked and then turned away. He felt an uncharacteristic curl of guilt in the pit of his stomach, and in an attempt to douse it, took a large mouthful of the drink. Which would've been fine, if he hadn't underrestimated the space between the glass and his mouth.

Two seconds and a load of bad decisions later, Parvis was left with a doused shirt that smelled of sugar and a whole host of regrets. He flailed, mind blanking in the shock of 'oh god this was a good shirt oh NO', and toppled sideways into Strife, who was also mid-drink. Another moment later and the two of them were a slightly sodden pile on the floor. Parvis managed to recover first, jerking himself upwards and away from Strife. He started to pull him up, noticing with a wince that his shirt was stained a darker red. He couldn't see Strife's expression, but just the thought of the anger hidden behind his eyes trained on him was enough to make him lose control of his mouth.

"--Fuck, I'm so sorry, Will, I didn't mean- Shit, I'm an idiot. Fuck! Sorry!" He was well aware he was babbling as he helped him recover, but babbling was better than waiting silently for the inevitable, so he let the hole he was in dig itself. "God, you probably think I'm a massive twat. I mean, I am, but still- Fuck. I'm just. Sorry."

Strife did what he seemed to do best, and stared. And then he did something Parv was sure he couldn't. He laughed. An actual laugh, quiet and low and totally at Parv's expense but for once he didn't care because the shadow over his eyes was gone and in it's place was a light Parv wished would never go out. That thought hit him hard, and he realized too late what was happening. He was thinking poetically. About another person. God, he wanted to gag at himself - but then Strife put a hand on his shoulder and honestly, he was so fucked.

"Thank you." His voice wasn't harsh, far from it, and Parv frowned because he did not expect that. But flexible as he was, he grinned in return and placed his own hand over Strife's.

"Strifey, I don't think that's what you say after someone pours their drink over you. Try more swearing." He suggested helpfully. Strife studied him for a second, then shook his head once more and laughed again. This time, Parvis joined in. He was good at laughing at himself. He was almost an expert, even. However, he was also still very confused, so he prodded Strife with his free hand. "Well? What was that for?"

"Before. I hadn't thanked you yet, so I thought I may as well now. So thank you." Strife made no move to pull his hand away, so Parv did it for him, filling the space between them with their joined hands, and it was so painfully cheesy he wanted to vomit. He coughed and broke the link, pulling his hand away. His mind worked fast, though, and an instant later he grinned sleazily.

"I'm sure we can figure out another way for you to repay me." He said slowly, moving forward a step. Strife didn't budge, though his eyebrow quirked in a perfect arc that made Parvis feel ridiculous, which was stupid because he was the exact opposite of ridiculous. But here he was, feeling it anyway.

"You poured your drink on me. I think that revokes your reward priviledges."

"All of them? Every last one?" Somehow, Parvis felt like batting his eyelashes wouldn't work here. He tried anyway.

"Yes, Alex. Every last one." Strife, despite his tone, was still smiling, and Parvis couldn't stop himself from smiling back. The two of them resettled into the stools, still damp but too comfortable and just drunk enough that they could ignore it. He nodded at the same bartender to bring them more drinks, and again they fell into a companiable silence, broken only by him.

"Call me Parv, Strifey."

"How long did that take you to think up?"

He shrugged and laughed, and decided to let Strife figure it out on his own.

~.~.~.~.~.~

Later that night, when the rest of the bar had all but emptied, Parvis and Strife remained. Ravs watched the two from the corner of his eye as he cleaned a glass, smiling. And when the two of them eventually caved and leaned towards one another with dark eyes and open mouths he turned away, letting them have their moment.

He'd kick them out in a few minutes anyway.

Credit to SunriseTheVulpix on Ao3