i said it once before and I'll say it again: queer community. the calypso's birthday episode is fucking pride man. and for izzy, oh for izzy, to be able to finally be free like that? he doesn't understand wee john's 'look' at first but he knows how it makes him feel, so he gets one as well. and for such a repressed queer man to be able to walk out in drag it's huge. AND he sings a love song!! la vie en rose, that's a staple of love repertoire. so izzy feels comfortable, at home enough to be able to go on the deck and show himself as a queer man that loves. he finally accepts that about himself enough to show it. he kisses wee john's hand. he puts on a show. and the crew loves it, sings along with him at the end. one more song indeed, cocksuckers!
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Lightly edited. 600 words.
CW: alcohol, possessive behavior, implied stalking
You stopped sharing location with John Price.
He's a busy man. Too busy for you lately, it seems. The usual tricks, the old reliables, no longer seem to capture his attention anymore. You wonder if there's someone else.
You do it after he texts you yet another short, unapologetic message. He's working late tonight. Don't wait up.
You won't.
It's been ages since you indulged in a favorite pastime: reading at the bar. A habit of yours since school. You dress up for your own enjoyment, pluck the book that's sat on top of your to-read pile for months, and find a spot at the bar of your old haunt. Cocktail in hand, you lose yourself in the story.
Three drinks later, a hand settles on the counter beside your glass, connected to a thick arm testing the thickness of a denim jacket. A voice made rough with smoke curls in your ear and sends a shiver down your spine.
Should've checked here first. You were just sayin' you missed this place.
Heat you want to believe that's only from the liquor creeps up your chest and claws at your throat.
Woulda been easier to find you if you hadn't, you know.
You're embarrassed when you think back to when John first convinced you to enable the feature. You didn't share that information with anyone, and the idea of someone watching you felt gross. It took quite a bit of cajoling for him to persuade you, going on and on about how he only wants what is best for you, to keep you safe. Knowing where you are at all times is part and parcel of a relationship with him.
He's smiling. There's warmth in his features, the upturned corner of his mouth, and the slight scrunch of his nose, but his eyes are matte. Dull even in the dim light of the bar. He's fuming.
John sits beside you and drapes an arm over the back of your seat. He waves down the barkeep with the other. You finally find your words, humiliated that the first thing you think to say is an apology, and that you two can go back to yours. He shushes you.
No, love, go ahead. Finish your chapter. Mind if I borrow your phone? Used up the battery on mine, you see.
You've never seen his phone below 60%, but you fork it over anyway, and he gestures for you to return to your book. You re-read the same paragraph a dozen times before giving up. He sips his drink, unhurried, catching your eye and giving a wink before he slides the device back to you.
There. All better.
There's a new icon on your home screen. It's unfamiliar, and when you reflexively tap it, it asks for a passcode. Your mouth dries.
Can't have you making more impulsive decisions like that, eh?
The arm slung over the stool migrates to your shoulders, and his hand gently clamps over the nape of your neck, thumb swiping over the skin.
I haven't been giving you the attention you deserve lately, have I. S'pose that's why you pulled a little stunt like this. Wanted me to come hunt you down, find you sitting pretty at a bar, hm?
He laughs when you stutter and try to defend your decision but glowers when you quietly comment you were worried someone else was keeping his attention.
If you're finished reading, think we'll spend the night at mine, sweetheart. Show you you're the only one for me.
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