H.G
New York, USA
December, 3rd

"Will the cat be okay?"

Freddie glanced over at me, each exhale he let out shot forth clear swirls in the frigid air. "Your concern is adorable."

"I want to keep my job." I bit out, immediately offended that he thought I would care about that abomination.

"She'll be fine dear." Freddie chuckled.

I nodded, and dug my hands further into my pockets. This was already an awful idea. It was almost half past eleven, and snow crunched underfoot. Why did I pick one of the most bitterly cold nights to venture outside of my apartment? I could have remained cosy, lit a fire, draped myself in my authentic sheepskin blanket...

"Are you sure you want to go out?"

"Do you not want to?"

"Did I say that?"

"Drop the bloody attitude." Freddie grumbled, which I thought was a little rich from him but I pursed my lips shut anyway.

I snuck another glance towards him when he wasn't looking. Freddie was so slight in person, yet he still managed to swagger about as if he were ten foot tall. I always thought it a cliche and obvious for musicians to constantly comment on how 'shy' they were offstage. My first impressions of Freddie were that he was just as arrogant onstage as he was off. I also heard from many colleagues and acquaintances that he was just as much of a diva too. From our first phone call, it seemed all the rumours were true. It wasn't until our little staged meeting in London that I realised he only appeared arrogant because he was on the defence against me. That's why I tried to be less abrasive once we met to get drinks.

I probably failed. After four years in New York, experiencing probably one of the numbest periods in my life, I wasn't used to attempting friendliness towards anyone but Angie. There was a reason people scurried to avoid me at work, and why I spent my evenings alone. Escaping to New York led to me having a rather humdrum existence. That was until Freddie somehow shoved his way into my life.

"I can't drive because I have had a few drinks," I thought aloud, "but I desperately need some heat. Want to sit in the car whilst we decide what to do?"

Oddly, Freddie looked blank for a moment at my words. Did I say something wrong? I nudged him with my shoulder as we walked, "Well?"

Freddie quickly blinked his dark eyes as if he had just snapped out of a daze, "What? Oh, yes. Heat up- you need heat- in the car- yes."

"Alright echo, settle down."

Freddie fixed me a look that roughly translated to 'I can't stand you', yet for some reason I still felt a smile tug at my lips.

I fished out the keys to my silver AMV8 Aston Martin and set about unlocking the door. "Heated seats are a godsend. This is my first car with them."

Freddie hummed noncommittally.

"You're a Royce man." I ventured, "So is Oliver." And that's where the similarities end.

"It's an attractive car."

"Too bulky to drive." I chuckled, "But I suppose that doesn't matter to you. Why did you never learn?"

"I knew one day I would be the type of person who would be driven around and not the one in the driving seat."

"A diva?"

"A star." Freddie scoffed, and my eyes flicked down to the hands he was desperately trying to warm up.

"Aren't they the same?" I asked, frowning down at the red flashes of cold on his bronzed skin.

"Definitely not." Freddie huffed, not helping his case.

Without thinking, I reached out and clasped his hands within mine, encapsulating them. The bite of cold from his hands, shocked me into realising what I was doing. I felt a flush crawl up the back of my neck.

Freddie quickly lifted his eyes to meet mine, his lips parted in shock, "How are you so bloody warm?"

"Contrary to popular belief, I'm not cold blooded." I lifted a brow.

"Who would say something so awful?" Freddie murmured innocently.

"Hm, you called me a viper once." I intoned, "Many musicians have likened me to a reptile, an iceberg... not that they're wrong mind you." I chuckled, trying to keep my hands steady as his lightly calloused fingertips scratched against my palm.

"Oh that's just a term of endearment where I come from." He bullshitted.

"I'm sure."

"If someone hailing from Zanzibar calls you a viper, there is honestly no greater compliment."

I lightly squeezed Freddie's hands before I reluctantly let go, "You don't speak about that much."

"Only because I was shipped off to India at a young age, so I barely remember it." Freddie shrugged, "I like being English."

"What did you think of boarding school?"

Suspicion flickered across Freddie's features briefly, and I remembered I was technically a journalist. "I'm asking as a friend, who was also shipped off."

"I know, I know." Freddie murmured, "I usually don't enjoy speaking about something so far back in the past. Although that makes me a hypocrite because I always want to push you about your past, so I suppose I'll be cooperative."

"You don't have to be," I fought the urge to sigh as the heated seats kicked in, "You never have to speak about anything you don't want to."

"The same goes for you, even when I badger you." Freddie chuckled, his eyes flashing with amusement. "To get back to your question, I usually tell people the positives of being put in boarding school." He waved his hand, "It taught me independence, all that jazz."

I nodded with intrigue, and before Freddie could share his real thoughts, the car radio blared. Now my cheeks really did burn red as I remembered what cassette I had been playing.

Freddie's mouth dropped open.

'I could love you, build my work around you, never leave you 'till my life is done. Baby I love you, come, come, come into my arms. Let me know the wonder of all of you...'

I scrambled to switch the radio off, my hands clumsy as I pressed every one of the million bloody buttons in the Aston Martin.

'And baby, I want you now, oh now, oh now. Oh now and hold on fast, could this be the magic at last?'

I finally managed to pry the cassette free, and it slipped from my hands and fell between my knees. My forehead knocked slightly against the steering wheel when I bent down to retrieve it. Freddie watched me the entire time, jaw dropped, but dark eyes glittering with amusement. His lips shot upward into a smug grin.

"Not a word."

"That was Barry Manilow."

"I said not a word!" I hissed.

Freddie burst out into an infectious bout of laughter, his head tipped back slightly. "Oh my god, you—"
he couldn't manage words through his fit of laughing. "Your opinion no longer has any- any sway."

"Shut up." I desperately tried not to laugh as well.

"Barry Manilow—"

"— has a very fucking soothing voice." I rumbled. "So shut up!"

"You are just full of surprises Hayes. Perhaps I'll get you a record for Christmas, unless you have them all already."

"Piss off."

"Where will I post it to?"

"My apartment."

Freddie frowned at me, suddenly serious, "You aren't going home for the holidays?"

"I have two invitations. One from my brother, George, and the other from my auntie."

"And you don't want to choose between them?"

"It's not that." I drummed my fingers against my knees, "It's just I would be imposing on a family occasion, they are only inviting me to be polite."

Freddie's brow furrowed further, "That's hardly true, they just want to spend time with you. You can't spend Christmas alone."

"Oh I have, I can and I will." I lifted my chin stubbornly, and before he could say anything more, I changed the subject. "Will I phone us a taxi?"

"Oh there's no need," Freddie waved his hand and poked at the buttons on the car phone.

"Who are you calling?"

Freddie merely lifted a slender finger to silence me as he plucked up the phone. A mere two seconds passed before a voice crackled from the other end.

"Phoebe, want to come back to Gramercy Park and bring Hayes and I into the city?" Freddie rolled his eyes, "It wasn't exactly a request darling."

"Date?" Freddie scoffed, "I'm sure. With who?" His eyes widened, "Patrick? Again? Well fuck that, I need a lift."

Whatever Peter said next had Freddie rolling his eyes, "Fine, don't do it for me, do it for New York." He handed me the phone.

I spluttered, "Hello?"

"Hayes!" Peter squeaked like he usually did.

"Hello, er, if you are occupied, don't worry about giving us a lift, Freddie and I will manage—"

"No! No. I'm not doing anything."

I frowned, "It sounded like you were busy."

"No, not at all. It's nothing. Where do you and Freddie want to go?"

I shot Freddie a confused glance, and he leant in extremely close to speak into the phone. "The East Village." His prominent cheekbone brushed against mine as he spoke.

I almost had to shake myself off in order to speak again. "How bad are you with directions? That's like a fifteen minute walk from here. We can't drag Peter out here over that."

Freddie sighed deeply, "It's a fifteen minute drive from Sutton Place to here, it's not a long trek dear." Is that really how close it is?

"Neither is a fifteen minute walk."

"But it's cold, and late." Freddie whined. It wasn't his sulking that made me cave, it was his bloody proximity. My mind seemed to have momentarily melted, as his chin brushed against mine as we shared the speaker of the phone.

"Peter, I'm really sorry that I am even asking you to come get us but—"

"See you soon Hayes!"

Peter must have sped over, because not ten minutes passed before headlights were flashing through the tall gates of the Gramercy Park entrance. Once Freddie and I slipped in the back, the poor man's teeth started to chatter and I was glad we didn't end up walking. Without thinking, I shrugged off my jacket and draped it over his lap. Freddie's brows arched with surprise at the gesture, but he flashed me a grateful grin, that made me feel... good.

That feeling was fleeting once I saw how bloody packed the East Village was. It's eleven, do people not work weekends? Freddie was chattering my ear off whilst I uneasily took in the amount and array of people. I couldn't even see my comfort zone I was so bloody far past it.

"So this is why you cancelled on us." A familiar voice exclaimed, "Mother how could you?"

Freddie slowly threw his eyes heavenward, before he turned around. "I apologised already Lee."

I turned with Freddie, to see Lee, Thor, and two other gentlemen. I almost felt self-conscious about my bare lip considering everyone around me was sporting a moustache. All eyes were suddenly on me. I didn't really know what to do with all the attention so I just pulled my back even more upright, and glanced over at an impatient Freddie.

"Hayes, this is Joe, and this is John," Freddie halfheartedly introduced me to his friends, "Not important. Let's go."

"Hayes?" Joe smiled brightly, "Great to finally meet you." He offered me his hand.

"Likewise." I replied politely.

"Aw man, his accent." Joe groaned playfully towards John as if I weren't standing there.

"Didn't I tell you?" Lee sighed dreamily.

Freddie scowled suddenly, "You have heard my accent enough now, so cool it."

"Yeah, but he sounds like a royal." Joe explained seriously.

"How would you know what a bloody royal sounds like?" Freddie snipped back.

As those two bickered for some reason, John set about introducing himself to me. Although they weren't the type of people I would ever usually be in contact with, they were surprisingly welcoming. I suppose I was just used to the upper class cliques in Britain where if you weren't already in with the crowd, you never could be.

"Right, Hayes and I need to dash." Freddie caught hold of my elbow and tugged me forward, "Bye my darlings—"

Joe popped up on my other side, "We'll walk with you."

"No." Freddie exclaimed immediately.

"And we're walking!" Joe crooned, as he kept the same pace as me. He offered me a charming smile, "So, Hayes, you're a music critic? An important one I hear."

"Well I wouldn't say I'm important—"

"You're the only one I ever heard of, even before Freddie started bitching about you, so you must be important."

Freddie gasped, let go of me, and tugged Joe backwards. Lee and Thor took their places as John fell back to keep in time with the pair who kept clashing.

"We realised that we were probably a bit full on the last time we met." Thor spoke first.

"So we apologise." Lee chimed in, "We were just excited to finally meet you."

"Oh." I murmured, "There's no need to apologise." Excited to meet me? Why on earth would they be excited of all things?

"I'm not trying to help you, I'm trying to help myself." I heard Joe whisper furiously.

"Have you no shame!" Freddie hissed dramatically.

"None." Joe laughed, "Besides, it's not like your name is on him"

"Don't be so bloody childish!"

I frowned, caught between not wanting to eavesdrop and curiosity. I wonder what or who they are arguing about in such a manner. Joe popped up beside me a moment later, with another award winning smile. With the moustache and dark features, he could have been Freddie's distant relative. A part of me that I usually had blocked out and stifled, noted quite loudly that he was attractive. Most likely because of his similarities with Freddie.

"So you live in Gramercy Park?" Joe hummed, "Very fancy."

Be nice. Be nice. Try and be nice for Freddie's sake, they're his friends.

"Yes," I agreed, "I wouldn't recommend it unless you wanted posh fussy people like me as neighbours."

I attempted to look back at Freddie without it looking like I wasn't interested in conversing with Joe. Freddie was an anchoring presence for me, and I needed him considering I had broken my routine tonight.

"You as a neighbour does not sound like a bad thing at all—"

"Hayes!" Freddie exclaimed and I was suddenly yanked back by both my arms, "Hello!"

"Hi?" I blinked at his pissed off tone. What did I do now? "You told me to be more friendly."

"Not that friendly." Freddie curled his lip with annoyance. "Don't encourage Joe."

"What?"

"Oh you're so bloody blind sometimes it hurts." Freddie threw his hands up with annoyance, which only served to confuse me further.

"So, Freddie, Hayes, you'll join us for a drink or two won't you?" John cracked us a grin beneath his moustache.

It was posed as a question but Freddie and I really had no say in the matter.

I was a little afraid that I would be ushered into a club, but also knew I had no problem whatsoever with walking straight out again if I was brought somewhere that wasn't my bag.

Based on the name, 'Happy's' did not seem like my kind of place, but the name was deceiving. I was ushered into a classy little cocktail bar, and saw plenty of well dressed men and women sitting around and using indoor voices. No messiness. That was until we walked straight through the chic little bar, and made our way up two flights of stairs.

"He is going to run away, this is an awful idea." I heard Freddie whisper furiously towards Lee and John. Thor and Joe were glued to me.

"Say nothing, he may not even notice."

"Notice what?" I frowned as a burly looking man let us all through an electric blue door.

"He didn't even I.D me, should I be offended?" Joe sighed jokingly, drawing my attention to him as we took a seat in the first booth that could be found.

"You look young to me." I shrugged causally, because it was simply a fact. Yet, for some reason Joe grinned at me as if I had given him the world's greatest compliment.

Godawful synth and bass driven music pulsed around us, and I chanced a look around the place. It was rather dark, and I did not have my glasses so things were a little blurry for me when I attempted to study the room. There was a small dance floor in the distance, but thankfully it wasn't an all out club, it was more of a bar. It seemed clean, which was good enough for now.

"Are you alright darling?" Freddie asked, his fingers brushed against my elbow, "If you want to leave, just tell me."

Freddie's genuine concern towards me was always jarring, and I was slowly starting to accept it rather than treat it with caution. Truth be told, I enjoyed his attention. So despite of the shit music, the uncomfortably packed venue, and the excess amount of attention I had on me, I was willing to stay out of my comfort zone for just a little longer in order to spend time with Freddie.

"I'll be fine once I get a drink into me." I attempted a smile, which I knew probably fell crooked. That probably looks completely idiotic.

"I'll start a tab then." Freddie smiled impishly and patted my hand.

It took me an hour before I reached a point of no return thanks to my tab, Freddie's tab, and all the drinks people kept buying me. This bar clearly attracted a very generous clientele, because men kept buying me drinks left, right, and centre.

I  was beyond inebriated. In fact, I don't think I had been this far gone since John Lennon accidentally slipped me a stronger pick-me-up pill (upon my request) than intended, when I accompanied Paul to the studio as a teen. I felt like a child caught in the middle of a divorce once McCartney found out about the drugs and lost it with Lennon. Paul was of course the shrill mother in this metaphor. I'll always remember it because he hit me with a 'young man' and proceeded to give me an anti-drug lecture, followed by a succession of anecdotes that I had already heard a million times.

Joe was murmuring something near my ear, that I couldn't for the life of me comprehend over the music and my intoxicated state of mind. He was smiling though, so I returned the gesture, deeming it the polite choice. His hand brushed over my arm as he mouthed something else, and I wasn't entirely adverse to such a touch like I usually would have been. Through my drunken stupor nothing was very clear, except the fact that I didn't know where Freddie was, and I need to know where he is.

It seemed like my mind had only one track, and it was set on Freddie. That seemed like a very perilous path to take in my current state, but for the first time, I had no voice of rigid reason warning me not to go there.

F.M

I need to purchase new friends, so if anyone knows where to buy good ones, please let me know. Preferably ones from the loyal range, because I am so fucking sick of my current ones betraying me!

Joe is a backstabbing harlot. A trollop. A tramp. All of the above. I would use more colourful language, but my walking thesaurus, Hayes, was currently preoccupied by that tart. The worst part was that Hayes was actually being nice- well as nice as it was possible for him to be.

If Joe brushed his hand over Hayes' bicep one more time, I was going to fucking lose it. Even I haven't got to fucking do that yet! Why haven't I just bloody done it? I finished my drink and strode back toward our original booth, leaving some man mid-flirt in the dust.

"Hayes?" I reached over and brushed my hand over his arm, and when I felt the deceptively firm whipcord of muscle under his shirt, I simply patted again. "Hayes?"

Hayes looked startled, but once he realised it was me, he threw me the lopsided grin that I adored, "Freddie."

With one word, and one glance it was crystal clear that the man was absolutely pissed drunk.

In true protective fashion, I was ready to go up and order something I had never ordered in a bar: water. I shimmied my way awkwardly over Joe and parked my ass down, forcing him to move away. Joe glared but Hayes merely blinked dazedly.

"Are you feeling alright?" My shoulder pressed against his, my face angled toward his ear.

Hayes merely offered me a boyish grin, and lifted his glass of vodka to my own mouth. "As the bad influence in my life, you need to get on my level."

I was about to say something about being the responsible one tonight. I think. Any sensible line of thought simply evaporated once Hayes' pinky and ring finger propped under my chin, and he tipped his drink between my lips. I almost choked when one of his fingers accidentally brushed the corner of my lip.

"Now," Hayes flashed me an amused grin, "What will we have next?"

Remembering how to function.

"Are you sure you haven't had enough?"  I managed to get out.

Hayes ignored that, "This is the cheapest night out I ever had Freddie, I keep getting free drinks." His stormy eyes were wide with wonder, "Is everyone always this nice here?"

I could have gone over to the nearest wall and knocked my head off it at Hayes' absolutely adorably naive expression. He didn't realise we were in a fucking gay bar, and that he was attracting every single man who caught sight of him. I had been waiting for the penny to drop all night. Yes, I should have told him... but surely he'll pick up on it sooner or later.

"Hayes," I sighed, "I really don't mind if you want to go home, I know this isn't your bag—"

"Stop fussing, I'm fine." Hayes assured me as his large hand squeezed my knee.

If Hayes was being like this, there was no way I could be the responsible one. Nor should anyone expect me to be.

Leaning against the bar ten minutes later, I thought Hayes had finally copped onto where we were. He was sipping away on a pink concoction that some man had offered him when he frowned.

"Did you notice that all the women here are really tall?"

That's because they're drag queens you blind twit. "Yes, I have noticed, but that's because—"

Hayes let his hand drop to my lower back as he attempted to move past me. He brushed right up against me as he attempted to get the attention of the bartender. That didn't take long, because Hayes was a flashing beacon in this place. I may not have even attempted to move out of his way so I could feel the contact of his body. Just like everyone else in this damn place. Of course I had my fair share of attention, but I was far too busy keeping an eye on Hayes to pay much attention.

Lee and John sidled up to Hayes breaking up our amicable little chat, and Joe popped up beside me. He looked half dazed as he sighed dreamily, "I'm in love."

"You are not." I snapped.

"I am!"

"He barely spoke to you!"

"And when did speak, it was beautiful."

"You just love the sound of your own voice, so he's perfect for you!"

"I love his ass too, have you seen it?"

I gasped as if thoroughly offended, "I would not know! I have never looked! My god, he is a person you know!"

I glanced over at Hayes, who's black hair had spilled about like crow's feathers. As if sensing my attention on him, Hayes glanced over at me. Our eyes connected, and something dangerous seemed to spark. I think it was even heated, but that may have been my drunken imagination. We kissed, it's not unreasonable to assume more could happen...

Minutes later, Hayes and I were tucked into a small booth, far away from the action. He was peppering me with questions about my previous tour and what I got up to. I gave the poor dear the censored version of course.

"No wonder your voice was gone for Saturday Night Live."

"Oh that was because of an argument with my ex, monstrously tempered tart."

Hayes' eyes narrowed, "And he's not around anymore, is he?"

"Jealous are we?"

"No," Hayes scoffed and it turned out a little slurred, "You just shouldn't be with someone like that."

I found myself smirking into my drink, "Oh you made me feel better, what with my little feature in one of your articles slating the eighties in terms of music."

The dim light overhead highlighted the red blush across Hayes' features. "I wasn't trying to make you feel better, I didn't even know you read the magazine."

"That just makes it even sweeter."

Hayes mouthed the word 'sweeter' as if it insulted him greatly, his signature glare twitched across his face. "Don't make a thing out of it."

"'What happened to the artists of the seventies who could entertain a crowd with acoustic renditions alone? I happened upon Queen's recent performance on Saturday Night Live, and even when ill, Freddie Mercury's 50% is better than any current artists' 100%'."

"How do you know I wrote that?" Hayes grumbled and took a swig of sherry, "It was probably a different journalist."

"You used the words 'happened upon', you opened with Latin, and it signed off with your name."

"Coincidence."

"Admit it," I brushed my knee against his, "You were trying to cheer me up because you knew I was annoyed over that performance."

"I just think you are a good live performer." Hayes bit out, "And I was being driven mad by the likes of 'The Human League', and 'Billy Idol', so I compared them to Queen, who don't need all sorts of tricks to make music."

"Until Hot Space?"

"Until Hot Space."

Hayes dragged a slender finger up and down the stem of his glass, I then noticed something hilarious. "Are you pretending to be married?"

"What?"

The silver signet ring that usually wrapped around Hayes' pinky, was now twisted around to hide the engraving, and rested on his left ring finger. I plucked up his hand and turned it over.

"Oh." Hayes smiled sheepishly, "I usually get unwanted attention whenever I go out to drink, hence the pretence of marriage."

First world issues in the life of Hayes Griffith.

"Although, the ladies have stayed away tonight, I must have lost my touch."

I choked on my laugh and changed the subject. My mind was now fairly focused on his artistic hands, "So you don't play the piano?"

"I used to try," Hayes grumbled, "Oliver used to always drop the bloody fallboard on my hands whenever I attempted to practise."

"What a fucking asshole."

"Mhm." Hayes gazed off in the distance listlessly. He was slowly losing the buzz of alcohol, and I just hoped that he wasn't about to bloody pass out. "Violin was always my instrument of choice, so I wasn't too discouraged."

"Violin? You play violin?" Of course he does, he stepped out of the nineteenth century.

"Played." Hayes corrected me quickly, "When I was younger, stop trying to bloody 'musician-ise' me."

"Did you just make up a word?" I exclaimed, "Hayes Eunice Griffith, darling, we simply must get you home. You clearly have had far too much."

"Stercus accidit." Hayes lifted a shoulder up and down delicately.

"What?"

"Shit happens." Hayes cracked a crooked smile my way, as if wanting to impress me with his language.

I felt a little rattled once I finally acknowledged that the way Hayes made me feel wasn't the result of a harmless infatuation. I need someone to shake me, and say 'no Freddie, you are not falling for this emotionally challenged, intimacy stunted man'.

My New York daughters ruined our private chat by squeezing themselves in the booth beside us once again. Although I may have been grateful to them for a split second because I easily could have said something disastrous regarding my feelings, directly to the source of them. My gratitude faded once Joe proceeded to flirt up an absolute storm with Hayes once again. I think Hayes was far too drunk to even notice.

Some attractive chef named Mark had been chatting me up all night, and I tried my best to convince myself I was interested. Why wouldn't I be interested in a friendly, upbeat, handsome man? Surely the grumpy critic across from me wasn't putting me off other men, because that would be fairly self-sabotaging of me. Now, to just focus on the lovely beside me.

"Does Hayes look in any way interested in Joe?"

Mark frowned, "For the tenth time, no."

"I think he does. He looks interested." I fumed, as Hayes laughed- laughed- at something Joe said.

Jealousy really was driving me half mad. For some reason, alcohol and Hayes seemed to create a quite hostile mix within me. I felt a strong urge to just pick a bloody fight with him so I would have his full attention.

After a quick game of musical chairs, we were sitting beside each other once again. Joe on Hayes' right, Mark on my left. Hayes let me kiss him, why hasn't he brought it up? What the fuck does that mean? Even if he's attracted to men, that doesn't necessarily mean he's attracted to me.

A familiar dirty bass riff played. Familiar because it was a Queen creation.

Hayes' glass of vodka paused on his lips as Body Language pulsed through the bar. My friends laughed and insisted on going to the dance floor for this particular track. Hayes' face twisted momentarily, and just when I thought he was about to make a crack about the tune, his face levelled out.

"Is this a gay club?"

"A bar," I corrected him calmly,  "yes."

Hayes nodded slowly. It was then he stood up, smoothed back his hair, fixed his collar, and proceeded to walk away. What the fuck was that about? He shrugged his jacket on and gave me a small wave.

"Hayes!?" I called and scrambled after him,

"Not so loud!" He turned to snap at me before he continued on his way.

"Oh for fuck sake!" I exclaimed, "Are you seriously so insecure that you can't be seen in a bar like this?"

"Insecure!?" Hayes snarled, his voice at full volume now that we had exited the bar into the stairwell. "I'm not insecure! You just withheld the bloody truth from me!"

"It's just a bar! Who cares who it's meant for?"

"If it didn't matter, you would have supplied me with the information!" Hayes was just a few steps in front of me. "You could have let me make an informed decision!"

Oh I knew all that, I did withhold information for selfish reasons, but still... why should the type of bar matter!? I grew increasingly defensive.

"I didn't think I had to tell you, anyone with eyes could have seen what kind of bar it was! Weren't you paying any attention!?"

"No! I was too busy paying attention to you, even though you outright ignored me all evening! I'm only out because I wanted to do something that you may enjoy.

"I ignored you!?" I snipped, completely missing the last thing he said, "You were keeping Joe company all night."

Hayes skidded to a halt at the home stretch towards the door. "I was only speaking to him because you were occupied! Why on Earth would you bring me here if you just wanted to chat up men all evening?"

I was a little lost for words. Hayes seemed... almost... jealous. Surely that was simply a trick of my mind. There was no way that Hayes Griffith was jealous of me speaking to another man.

With a small nostril flare, Hayes turned on his heel and aimed for the door.

"Don't you dare run off on me." I called out after him.

"Oh I do dare."

"Hayes!" For someone who acts as though he's a pensioner, he can be such a fucking child.

I attempted to catch up to Hayes, trying to match his long strides. Just as I was about to reach out and grab his shoulder, he whirled around to face me. I collided against his chest. He barely moved an inch at the impact, and I think that was only because he was drunk. Our height difference was minimal, but the way he stared down his nose at me, he appeared to tower over me. I readied myself to sneer something catty at him, but wasn't given the opportunity.

With an irritated huff, Hayes practically spat out "oh fuck it" and pressed his lips against mine. My eyes popped open wide at the contact, before fluttering closed once again. Good fucking god. I was fully prepared to take the reins, to guide poor prudish Hayes, but I should have known the control freak wouldn't have let that happen. His slender fingers splayed against the side of my neck, the pad of his thumb scratched against my jaw. It was almost pathetic how quickly I wanted to fold under his touch- how every sense was immediately set ablaze.

I didn't know what to do with myself. After months of pining for the man, here he was pressed up against me, and I didn't know where to start. I threaded my fingers through his hair, and found it to feel just as luxurious as I imagined. I backed us up a step or two, and his back came in contact with the door. I froze, hoping that wouldn't jolt him into seeing sense, but that thankfully wasn't the case, no, instead he relaxed himself a little further.

Sheer desperation was pressed from Hayes' lips to mine. I pushed further. My tongue teased the seam of his soft lips, and my heart stuttered once he granted access. A low, surprised moan tumbled from his lips. My fingers stilled at the sound, and I was just about ready pull out all the stops so that I could hear it again.

The door Hayes was pressed against suddenly rattled, which rapidly snapped us out of the heated moment. I pulled away, as did Hayes. If it hadn't been so shocked, I would have been smiling like an idiot. The door opened and a gaggle of men passed on through, up to the club overhead.

My gaze remained on Hayes, who looked as if he had been doused with ice cold water. After a brief moment of calm, panic swept across his expression like a tidal wave. Hayes looked positively petrified as his eyes flickered to the slowly closing door.

That's a man who was about to do a runner if I ever saw one. That's a man who is unable to admit his attraction to men, and I have come across many. There are men who vehemently swear they aren't gay, the second you are done with each other for the night. Hayes isn't the first, he's not the last, but he's the only one who hurts it be rejected by.

"Hayes," I pleaded softly, "Please stay, we can talk."

"It's late." Hayes' tone was flat. His expression as cool and indifferent as when I first met him. Perhaps even more so. "And I need to check on that damned cat."

Hayes was slipping out of reach, "I'll come with you—"

"You won't." His tone was clipped and cold, "You won't. I need to go. Enjoy your night."

"I can't wait around for you forever Hayes." I sighed with exasperation. He's never going to accept himself, he can't undo the past thirty years of conditioning .

Hayes' hand stilled on the door. From the cruel curve of his lips, I knew the softness they were quite capable of was about to be scratched over with his usual razor sharp edge.

"Hypothetically, if there was anything to 'wait around' for- which there isn't." Hayes looked at me as if I were something that evoked pathos, "What makes you think that I want it to be you who does the waiting?"

With that, he slipped out the door, and into the cold dark night where he fucking belonged.

___

A/N-
Hope you enjoyed, and hope the chapters haven't been too long 😂