Contains: gratuitous Italian and cocktail porn. so basically, a fic by me.
“Hey man, Darren...nice to finally meet you, wow!” Darren excitedly extends his hand and Zach gives him a long slow up and down, tilting his head to the side before finally smiling, slow and lazily appreciative, and holding out his own hand. Darren gives a firm handshake, claps him familiarly on one well-suited shoulder, half sits on the bar stool closest to them then pops right back up again before Zach even gets a word out. “This is randomly bizarre, isn’t it?! I mean we kept missing each other in New York, and Jon said...oh wait...that is a great suit, by the way...” There’s finally a break in the stream of chatter as Darren gets distracted by the contents of his pockets.
“Darren. Zach, hi. Jon said...yes. Hi. Uh, sit?” Zach motions toward the bar, glancing around for the bartender and then to Darren like he really wishes he would sit. Darren still bounces back and forth, fidgeting his hands in his suit pockets and shifting on his much too shiny, standard issue black lace-ups. He squints an eye and seems to take note of Zach’s shoes, obviously his own, custom, as he keeps digging in his pockets and Zach raises an authoritative eyebrow. Darren triumphantly pulls out a small blue envelope with an embossed seal, and thrusts it at Zach with a toothy grin. “Aha! From Lea. She said you’d know what it was.”
Zach crinkles his eyes up and neatly tears open the edge, pulling out the tiny card and throwing his head back with a bit of a laugh as he skims it and fingers the 20 Euro note folded inside. He glances up at Darren, still standing and shuffling and fiddling with his phone now, and chortles a bit, stuffing the card inside his jacket pocket and laying the bill on the bar.
“I guess we have time for a drink? Signorina Sarfati is buying.” Zach motions again for Darren to sit and, much to his relief, Darren finally does, nodding and hopping up to sit next to Zach, apparently giving up on his iPhone working here. Zach taps his fingers on the bar, still leaning away like he’s taking Darren all in, when the bartender finally comes over.
“Buongiorno, come va?”
“Come sta? Bene, bene,” Darren cuts in with a hesitant glance at Zach, who raises one mighty eyebrow again and puts his hands up. “You like Negronis?”
“Whatever, aprez vous,” Zach smirks and Darren preens, bats his eyelashes at the bartender, and Zach kind of hates him.
“Vorremo due Negroni, un po sbagliato, per favore...you like it like that?” Darren looks at him again for assurance that he’s cool with what Darren orders, and Zach just sort of stares at him, nodding very slowly, bemusedly thinking he’s probably not very subtle. Zach has never been very good at subtle.
“Where’d you learn Italian?” Zach asks, pulling his own Europe only phone out of his pocket as Darren begins a hyperactive long-winded explanation about Catholic high school, a year in Arezzo, this one time in Rome....
this guy. he taps quickly and hits send, setting the phone down on the bar and looking back at Darren, who has switched uninterrupted to Italian, charming the bartender as he sets their drinks down with a wink at Darren.
"A proprio piacimento," he smiles, adding a small split of spumante so they can add it to their liking.
“Molto gentile, grazie, grazie,” Darren replies, placing Lea’s twenty and a few euros from his pocket onto the little tray. Zach watches him, how deliberate he is as he pours the right amount of bubbles into their drinks, how put together yet utterly ridiculous he is. He thinks maybe Darren’s pretty cool. They clink their glasses and sip, and it’s the best Negroni Zach has ever tasted.
Zach squints as Darren swallows his drink and chatters away; he looks around the room and wonders if people see them, if they know them, or just know him, if they even care about anything but the clothes. Darren seems to be able to just be Darren so easily. Zach is never sure who he feels like, especially in a room like this, or what being Zach even means with so little context.
His phone beeps softly and startles him out of feeling sorry for himself, sipping a beautiful cocktail next to a beautiful man in a beautiful suit, Jon writing him back and he feels more real.
oh I know. trust me. he is TM. Zach shakes his head and laughs to himself at Jon’s idiotic teenage girl text abbreviations. It’s a stupid thing but it makes him miss him.
think if I stick my dick in his mouth he’ll stop talking? He sends back, then turns his attention on Darren.
Zach half listens, maybe a little more than half because Darren is articulate and has a vocabulary worth listening to. He also looks really, really hot in the nice suit and with a little artful stubble on his face. The other half of Zach’s brain wanders a bit, pictures Darren and Jon both on their knees in front of him, pictures them kissing, pictures two handfuls of curly hair. He sips his drink and smiles at what seems to be the punchline of Darren’s anecdote, punctuated by a broad toothy laugh and Darren exclaiming, “Crazy! It was so crazy!”
I doubt it. try if you like but I get a freebie, Jon eventually texts back and Zach grins. He stops Darren mid-sentence to apologize for being rude but Darren won’t hear of it, waves him on and heroically plows ahead with another one about a broken guitar string and an exotic dancer.
no freebie-I’m calling international rules. Zach eventually counters, meaning to wrap it up and enjoy the rest of his drink and maybe the conversation if he can get his head out of his ass, but Jon returns the volley smartly.
oh in that case I am too. :)
you’re going to fly all the way to England to play that card? Zach drops the phone to his side and takes a long slow sip of his drink, watches Darren more carefully, trying to figure out what it is about him that makes him feel so plain.
wouldn’t be the first time. SO worth it.
heard he has a boyfriend now. Zach types, swallowing and looking over his glass at Darren and wondering what that whole situation is really like behind all the layers of bullshit and misinformation.
heard I do too. :)
quit texting me and wallowing and go be fashionable. he’s a nice guy.
Darren sets his glass down and wipes a little Campari from the corner of his mouth with one careful finger. Zach watches his tongue chase after it, making sure there’s no dark orange bitter to stain the skin around his lips.
“Everything ok?” Darren asks, cocking his head with a curious tilt as Zach slips the phone back inside his jacket.
Zach’s face gives up nothing, he knows it. He nods simply, swallows the last of his drink, and stands to straighten his tie and jacket. “Shall we?”
They meet an audience assistant who takes them to their seats, offers to hold whatever is in their pockets while they pose for photos. Darren hands over his useless iPhone and flirts shamelessly. “Mi portano un cellulare che funziona, per favore?” He bats his eyelashes and the assistant actually scurries off, probably to find him a SIM card out of sheer terror for job and life. Zach thinks Darren’s cooler than him, and he’s back to hating him.
“You want to get dinner before this party?” Zach asks, walking slightly ahead of him after the show, their heels clicking on the marble floor.
Darren unbuttons his jacket and strides beside him, seeming a little taller when they reach the doors. He stops, grips the handle, and pulls it open for Zach, looking him right in the eye and Zach would swear he’s just as tall as he is. “In your room?” Darren lifts his chin and his eyes wrinkle in the corners, his easy smile unfaltering.
Zach clicks his tongue against his cheek and places one hand atop Darren’s where it grips the brass. He sweeps his other arm inside, deferring to Darren. “Again...aprez vous.”
“Do you want to kiss?” Zach asks, one big hand curving around Darren’s waist and slipping up under his jacket, feeling the soft, soft shine of his shirt, the curve of his back.
“Not particularly,” Darren breathes out, just a whisper against his lips, then presses his lips briefly, pulls back, presses them again. “Maybe just a little...” he leans in, tilts his chin up again and Zach kisses him roughly, briefly wonders if Darren has actually done this before or just made out with college boys for kicks. He feels small and strong in Zach’s hands and Zach likes it, so the rest isn’t really that important.
Darren shrugs off his jacket and Zach presses up against him with one hand flat across his back, catches the jacket with the other before it can crumple to the floor, then tosses it across a chair. “Do you know how much shit we’ll get in if these suits are wrinkled?” Zach breathes against his skin, sliding a hand up around Darren’s neck, reaching down to rub his palm over the crotch of his trousers, grinning and leaning his forehead against Darren’s shoulder as he feels Darren respond.
“I don’t really care,” Darren laughs out through gritted teeth, rolling his neck luxuriously in Zach’s grip and nudging his hips against the other hand that’s wedged firmly between his legs. Zach squeezes a little and Darren gasps, grabs at Zach’s waistband and pulls their weight toward the sofa. Zach follows, backs Darren up until the insides of his knees hit the cushions, kissing him once more before pulling his arms away and letting Darren drop back onto the couch. Darren looks up expectantly, like he’s not sure what happens next, and Zach laughs softly, grabs himself once, just to adjust things, and drops to his knees rather primly in front of Darren.
“Ok...” he whispers as he presses his face against Darren’s legs, just breathing him in, feeling the buzz, the hectic kind of energy he gives off, before reaching for buttons, belts, buckles. Darren sighs heavily as Zach’s hand slips inside and wraps around him. Zach looks up, stroking him nice and steady, sees Darren’s eyes, closed and peaceful. Something about that hits him in the gut, and he’s glad Darren doesn’t see the way his eyelashes flutter as he gets Darren’s dick all the way out of his pants and into his mouth. Darren lets out a long, pleasured sigh and Zach is glad for that too, since he’s probably making some happy sounds of his own. Embarrassing, he thinks, sliding his throat down further around Darren and flicking his tongue all the way down, as close to Darren’s balls as he can get from this angle.
He slides his hands under Darren’s thighs and ass, lifting him up a little and letting Darren have room to thrust in his mouth and then whines when Darren actually does it. He looks up to catch Darren’s eye and he’s definitely invigorated now, not peaceful anymore, and Zach wants to make Darren come to fucking pieces. He slides his mouth all the way out to the tip and sucks on the head then reaches between Darren’s legs and holds his balls, lets the weight just rest in his palm for a moment.
Darren takes a deep breath like he knows he’s going to need it as Zach presses forward, squeezes and sucks, everything all at once wet and fast and Zach feels Darren’s hands go to the back of his head and clutch, and he should worry about his hair but he just doesn’t care as long as it means Darren will fuck his mouth a little more, a little harder, wishes he would really go for it but Zach can tell he’s way too nice for that, at least in this circumstance.
Darren tries to warn him that he’s about to come (see? so fucking nice) and Zach just holds him there, nods his head and growls in his throat and makes sure his lips are sealed nice and tight and sucks him right through it, Darren gripping the base of his skull and shaking a bit, a hard groan from his chest that sounds like it might hurt to get that sound out.
Darren slowly uncoils, relaxes back into the sofa, touches Zach’s chin and strokes along his jaw and Zach looks up, lip hanging open with just the tip of Darren’s cock laying there, and Darren groans.
Zach smiles, gently takes Darren in his hand and licks away the tiniest bit of mess that he missed, sticky on the soft skin. “I thought you didn’t care.”
Darren laughs and rubs a hand over his face, looking like he wishes he could run his fingers through his hair but then remembers he can’t just yet. “Fuck. Would it be tacky to say I needed that, like, badly?”
Zach laughs, a soft little murmur, and stretches, sits back on his heels and opens a leather laptop satchel near the end table. “Not tacky...I can’t imagine being on that fucking tour. You smoke?”
Darren’s head rolls onto his shoulder and he arches an expressive eyebrow at Zach. “I quit, of course.”
“Yeah, me too,” Zach snickers, producing two cigarettes from the pack and lighting them both, handing one to Darren.
“You are spoiling me,” Darren grins, looking sated and a little dazed, taking a leisurely drag from the cigarette and watching as Zach rolls the filter between his fingertips. Zach wouldn’t mind keeping this one for the night, truth be told.
“You can get me back some time. Or buy me coffee.” Zach full on grins around his cigarette and starts to get up, knees aching a bit, and he should take some time tomorrow to walk around, maybe see some art.
“Oh right. That’s...Jon said...I think we’re maybe, neighbors?” Darren zips his pants up and leans forward, resting his cigarette in the glass ashtray and cracking his neck. Zach lays Darren’s jacket beside him on the sofa.
“Yep. I’m up, like off Fountain. And you’re...” Zach trails off, inhales around his cigarette and watches Darren thinking, hopes he’s not freaking out. He seems ok.
Darren nods slowly, still spacing out a little before he answers, carefully, “below Sunset.” Darren tilts his head at Zach, then turns to look out the window and takes another long drag, blows it out, looks back to Zach, and he’s totally calm, cool. Maybe even great. Darren smiles. “Yeah. I’ll definitely get you back.”