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[It's never anything drastically important, or anything terribly "serious", as much as he'd hate to use a loaded term like that. They're friends in the same business, is all, and they've at least got an understanding there. If he gets bored, he rings Wade, and they go out and do... something. Anything. Killing time between jobs (that they've made very sure to not have intersect again, thanks very much) and blowing off steam together quickly becomes their routine as the time goes and goes.
Not that it bothers Travis. Doing nothing with somebody (and occasionally doing, heh, something), he's always thought, is the true test of getting along on the long term, and he likes Wade. He's a good guy, and he hasn't gotten to really waste time with somebody on a regular basis since Bishop. It's comfortable, and not an arrangement he's looking to budge on anytime soon.
Because Wade's a damn good friend, all things considered. ...Emphasis on "friend".
And to further emphasize that "friend" part, they've taken to proving they can wingman for each other and for the love of god it's gonna work this time.
Travis sighs, dials the familiar number, and waits for the ringing to stop.]
Hey, we still goin' anywhere tonight?
Not that it bothers Travis. Doing nothing with somebody (and occasionally doing, heh, something), he's always thought, is the true test of getting along on the long term, and he likes Wade. He's a good guy, and he hasn't gotten to really waste time with somebody on a regular basis since Bishop. It's comfortable, and not an arrangement he's looking to budge on anytime soon.
Because Wade's a damn good friend, all things considered. ...Emphasis on "friend".
And to further emphasize that "friend" part, they've taken to proving they can wingman for each other and for the love of god it's gonna work this time.
Travis sighs, dials the familiar number, and waits for the ringing to stop.]
Hey, we still goin' anywhere tonight?
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Sorry, Trav. Didn't mean anything by it. I've seen enough of your prowess in the bedroom to know there's nothin' about you that's virginal.
[Okay, maybe he should go easy on the flirting there. This is a night for wingmanning, after all. Speaking of which...
He turns and faces the main floor, his eyes scanning the dimly lit room for a potential candidate. Most of the girls here tonight are with their dates, and he momentarily curses his rotten luck for not checking to see if it was Ladies' Night. Looks like it's pretty skimpy pickings for the single guys tonight.
Their drinks arrive a few moments later, and Wade takes his glass, taking a cautionary gulp. The drink goes down smooth, and the vanilla gives it a burst of flavor. Wade licks his lips, his mouth stretching in a delighted grin.]
Oh wow. Think I might've just found the new love of my life here. How's it treatin' you, Trav?
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And besides: he still really wants go home with somebody tonight. There's gotta be some girl around here who'll be interested. As satisfying as it is fucking a friend, it's not like they're exclusive, or anything, and with men, it's--]
Hey, thanks. [Thank God for drinks interrupting THAT train of thought. He takes a tentative sip of it, and immediately knows, the alcohol already warming his throat, that it was a good decision.]
Not bad. [He grins.] So, when do we get to the main event here?
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[Wade sips his drink, doing another cursory sweep of the place with his eyes. Nada. This is getting ridiculous. The fourth time in how many weeks, and they still can't get this whole wingmanning thing down pat. He turns to Travis to suggest that maybe they'd better pack it in and try again another night...
...And that's then she stands up and makes her way over to the bar. Wade wonders how in the hell he could have missed her. Her long black hair frames her face in waves; those smoky dark eyes immediately cause his heart to skip a beat. In an instant he knows almost instinctively that her name begins with an 'R'-- Roxanne, maybe, or Raquel. She shoulders her way between him and Travis, signaling the bartender with a wave of her hand.]
Hey. Can I get a Great Gatsby?
[Oh god, even her voice is smoky. Travis has definitely hit the jackpot with this one, damn him. Wade surreptitiously nudges his friend; tosses a "watch me" look over his shoulder. It's time to go to work.]
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[He just about drops his glass when that woman slinks over-- oh, shit, she actually is hot, and they didn't even have to go to her first. How the hell did not one, but BOTH of them miss her, much less actually get her attention? Travis returns Wade's glance with one of uncertainty-- the good kind, he hopes-- before settling back into his seat and playing it cool, sipping his drink and letting Wade, as promised, do his thing.
...Which is unfortunate, because Roxanne/Raquel/whatever her name is is a lot more perceptive than either of them have given her credit for. She's already made up her mind, regardless of whatever these two jokers have planned.
Meanwhile, Travis' playing it cool is... not as cool as he'd like it to be. (Is he really this rusty? Shit!) While he's obviously hindered by his own anxiousness, she still spares him, and his handsome friend, a smile. May as well let them get it over with.]
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[It's a shallow, innocuous comment, designed to break the ice. Wade is gratified when she flashes a sheepish smile his way-- it's quite adorable, actually.]
Not really. I always thought he was kinda... y'know. Pretentious. Makes for a good cocktail, though. [A chuckle at her own quip, which Wade joins in.] Zelda's better, I feel. She's--
[Wade interrupts her.] --his wife, I know. [He suddenly recites a couplet:]
"Why should all life be work, when we all can borrow.
Let's think only of today, and not worry about tomorrow."
[She joins him in speaking the second line, delighted that he should know it. Wade can see that she's quickly warming toward him. She suddenly ducks her head, showing off another one of those cute, self-conscious smiles.]
Uh... no offense, but I would've never taken you for the bookish type.
[Wade offers her a mischievous grin.] I like pickin' up little factoids in my spare time. You never know when they might come in handy. Like right now.
[She chuckles appreciatively, and he's encouraged by it.] The name's Wade. What's yours?
[Her reply is succinct.] Rosalyn.
[Called it, he thinks. To her he says:] I'm Wade. Nice to meet you, Rosalyn. So tell me-- apart from supporting the put-upon wives of pretentious alcoholic authors, what does a girl like you do in her spare time?
[Her smile seems like a challenge now.]
I ride motorcycles, mostly. I'm a bike nut. Probably too much woman for you to handle, pretty boy.
[Gotcha. He doesn't bother to hide the delighted smile that lights up his face.]
Actually, my friend here builds bikes in his spare time! Isn't that right, Trav?
[He half-turns to include Travis into the conversation, but not before he sees Miss Rosalyn eye the other man with a definite look of surprised appreciation. Wade can almost hear her thoughts-- wow, never expected him to be this cute-- and can't help but feel a little bit envious. Lucky bastard, that Travis.]
1/2
[He'd been so thoroughly distracted by listening into their conversation that finally being called on to speak catches him off-guard. And as silly as it sounds, Wade's easy chatter has almost gotten more of his attention than Rosalyn's: it's like it comes effortlessly to him. Travis is jealous of that ease, really. If he had a mind to, he could take this girl home just as easily. That thought... shouldn't bother him as much as it does.
But he can't keep the smile down when she turns to him, pretty face wearing an open, inviting expression.] Yeah, I do. Built my own from the ground up. It's Travis, by the way. [God. A girl into bikes. What a catch.]
Well, then, it's nice to meet you, too! [Rosalyn hums in genuine interest, running a finger along the rim of her glass.] You don't say. Wouldn't have pegged you for a bike type, either.
[He laughs, grinning. Wow. This is already going significantly better than he thought it would, and he visibly relaxes.] Guess I'm just full of surprises, huh?
You sure are. I like that; keeps me on my toes. [She props up her chin.] I've gotta see this bike of yours, though. Is it outside?
[Wait. It's... not.] Ah, shit, I... took a different one over today. It's back home, sorry.
[Rosalyn's smile is completely innocent. (Or is meant to be, anyway.)]
Doesn't mean I can't still see it.
2/2
Does she mean.
Uh. Holy shit?]
Anytime you want, babe.
[1/3]
Well then! I'm gonna let you two kids get acquainted. Pretty sure there's a whole selection of beverages I haven't gotten to peruse yet. Oh, and here-- [He sets the keys to his bike down on the bar next to Travis.] Just take good care of it, okay? Might not be the sweetest ride, but it's mine. Don't do anything that I wouldn't do, now.
[With a wink in their direction, Wade takes his leave of them, taking a seat at the far corner of the bar. He grins as he watches Travis work-- the guy's a little on the awkward side as far as flirtation goes, but Rosalyn seems to be receptive to his dorky charms. Looks like his foray into wingmanning was a big success tonight.
Now if he can just get rid of the urge to go over there and interrupt them, everything would be hunky-dory.
It had snuck up on him without warning, the jealousy. He supposes it's only natural-- after all, once she'd caught sight of Travis she'd barely paid any attention to Wade at all. And although it was his job to get Travis a date... well. He can't help but be a little burned by it; a little resentful of her.
But why shouldn't she pick Travis over him? After all, he's known the guy long enough to get a good indication of all of his good points. He's clever-- when he needs to be, anyway-- it takes a special type of person to keep up with Wade's banter. He can be quite funny, and very easy to get along with when you've got something in common with him. He's interesting, intriguing, a blast to hang out with, not to mention he can be surprisingly sweet and thoughtful if you just give him a chance and--]
[2/3]
The realization hits Wade like a ton of bricks; causes his heart to drop sickeningly in the pit of his stomach.
I'm jealous of her.
He can't deny it any longer, that ugly insidious feeling that had started its slow buildup inside him from the moment she'd approached them. It wasn't Travis he was jealous of, but Rosalyn. Travis must have said something funny to her just then, because she tilts her head back and rewards him with an infectious, bell-like laugh. That sound cuts into Wade; cuts into him as deeply as any blade.
He tears his eyes away from the couple and catches the bartender's attention.]
Hey. Get me a Faulkner.
[The man blinks in surprise; asks if he's sure-- Faulkners aren't really for the faint of heart--]
Could tell that just by the name, champ. Kinda my plan to be that incoherent, y'know? Get me a Sound and the Fury, on the rocks.
[As the bartender sets about mixing his drink, Wade turns his attention once again to Travis and Rosalyn. He's unable to look away, suddenly overcome with a certainty that he's screwed everything up. Why had he suggested this, anyway? Because he thought it was what Travis wanted? For some adventure?
Or is it because you thought you were getting too close?
Wade blinks in surprise; presses his lips tightly together. The biting, acidic voice seems to have come out of nowhere.
Admit it. That's what this is all about. This is what happens all the time whenever you get too attached-- you get scared and start working to sabotage yourself. Is it any wonder that you're always alone? Any wonder that you're always unwanted?
Wade closes his eyes tight; shakes his head to ward off the words that he knows deep down are right.
Shut up shut up shut up]
[3/3]
Clearly, it's time for him to leave now.
He tosses a 20-dollar bill on the bar, getting up and maneuvering his way through the crowd. He doubts if Travis has even looked his way as he passes. The air outside is crisp and cool, perfect for soothing his hot face. His eyes are still burning-- a lingering side effect from that last drink, he supposes-- and there's a tightness in his chest that he can't quite get rid of. Ending the night with William Faulkner might not have been the best idea, in hindsight.
He leans against the wall of the bar with a sigh, closing his eyes for a moment. There will be time to hail a taxi later. Right now he just wants to cool down a little and not think for a while.]
1/idk help (this time in the right place)
[Rosalyn's eyes follow Wade as he leaves. She smiles pleasantly, leaning her cheek into her hand.] You're lucky, you know. He's a good friend.
Huh? [Travis straightens up and turns-- a little too quickly-- back to her.] Yeah. Wade's great.
Must be. [Delicately, she sips her drink.] Any friend who'd pull the whole wingman routine-- like, actually do it-- is a keeper.
[Travis starts to agree, then stops short:] Hang on a sec, you--
[Rosalyn's laugh is warm.] C'mon. Do I look like I was born yesterday to you, Travis? I've done it for girlfriends before. It's a tough job. Don't worry, though. I still definitely like you.
[The smile on his face is more than a little bit sheepish. Well, damn.
[The conversation goes so smoothly and naturally he's worried that she's putting him on. It inevitably returns to bikes, shifts to work (he "freelances", what he freelances for, she never asks), returns finally to the task of the night. Which is going to go well, obviously. Rosalyn is pretty, and fun to talk to, and into him, and
and Wade
and Wade's sitting alone over there
and Travis keeps stealing glances over at the man nursing his drink by himself, which is dumb. Wade'll be fine. She's probably not going to come home with him anyway. And when she throws her drink in his face, he'll go back to Wade, and it'll be over and done with until the next time. And in whatever idiot way his brain has been making sense of things lately, the idea that he's going to fail is somehow something he feels more comfortable with. His focus on Rosalyn falters. He's not looking at her.
Suddenly, a voice breaks him from his thoughts--] Hey, are you listening?
2/3 oh my god this turned out massive im' so sorry
simply leaves.
Travis' stomach feels like it's tumbled out of his body. Rosalyn's noticed. She's gotten up already and is now staring at him with an eyebrow raised and a mouth turned down. Rosalyn says something about getting up, mentions directions, and he nods, lamely, only half-there, mechanically leaving the barstool and getting back on his feet. Her hand moves to take his arm.
Travis takes a step back and it's like he's looking right through her. It takes all he's got to bury the urge to just sprint out the door and after Wade, right then and there.
She's puzzled, even a little bit hurt; no fucking shit Sherlock, you were supposed to screw her and now you won't even touch her. He hastily grabs Wade's keys and stuffs them in his pocket, where they briefly jingle against one another.] Sorry.
[His tone's low, reserved. He looks so damn pathetic that Rosalyn can't slap him across the face like she wants to.] Are you okay? [He mildly responds with an 'I'm fine', and she continues--] Are we going or not? Because if you aren't doing this, that's fine. But you really need to tell me and stop spacing out like this.
[Finally, he shifts his full attention back to her. He absolutely cannot believe anything that is coming out of his mouth right now.] ...No. It's not you, you're awesome, I swear. I just... can't right now.
[Still not comfortable with this non-resulution, Rosalyn glances from Travis' face to what his eyes are directed at. What the hell has this guy changing his mind so suddenly? He isn't even looking at anything, either, just $20 and the empty glass on the b-- Oh. Oh. The gears click neatly into place.]
Huh. [She takes a quick look over her shoulder-- at the vacant doorway-- and sighs wearily.] Okay. I understand. [Although she's disappointed, there's still a mark of that earlier warmth left.] Listen, Travis, I'm going to do you a favor. I'm going home-- and I'm not going to give you my number. Okay? Think about what that is supposed to mean for you.
[He nods.]
Good boy. [He barely moves when Rosalyn kisses him on the cheek.] It was nice to meet you, Travis. I had fun. [She smiles for him one last time and disappears in the crowd.]
3/3 so ends the text wall
Wade.
[He looks only a little embarrassed.]
I fucked up.
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He's screwed everything up, he knows that much now. Travis will end up going home with this woman tonight. The next time they speak, he'll talk about possibly doing this again-- or worse, ask him for advice on calling Rosalyn again. She and Travis'll eventually want to spend more and more time together, and--
Wade closes his eyes tightly to stop that train of thought; to keep from following that sequence of events to its inevitable conclusion. It doesn't make any sense. They're just friends, after all... right? Friends with benefits; no commitments. Why, then, is he acting like a stereotypical jilted girlfriend in a romantic comedy?
God, he's an idiot. Why the hell did he think this was a good idea?
He's just about to hail a taxi and take a long, lonely ride home back to his apartment when a sudden familiar voice stops him; makes his heart turn a sick little somersault in his chest. Travis is standing next to him, looking sheepish, and it's then that his words register in Wade's mind.]
Whoa, what? Whaddya mean you fucked up? She was all over you, man! [His annoyance shows in his voice, and he somehow musters the energy to shoot him a sardonic smile.] What, did you start talking about your doll collection too soon or something?
[Humor as a deflection. He's played this song and dance so long that it's practically become second nature.]
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[Travis chuckles shamefully.] But I dunno, man. You know how it is with chicks-- you don't ever really know what ends up rubbing them the wrong way.
[Is it his imagination that Wade looks a little disappointed? It's gotta be. Apart from having to go home alone bit, this is what friends do for each other. There's nothing between them that'd commit them to each other.
...why is he skipping out on Rosalyn, then? This is what he'd wanted all along, right? And he's cut it all off because he doesn't want Wade to feel bad? That doesn't make an ounce of sense, even for him. Wade'll be fine if you'd left with her, he repeats to himself, and you sure as hell would've been too.
It crashes down on him so staggeringly that he feels like he'll fall to his knees right there.
No, he wouldn't have been fine.]
Wade. [fuck, he loves the way that his name sounds, he wants to say it over and over again.] We should probably get back soon, yeah? It's getting cold out here.
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[Relief. Relief so potent that he actually feels the tension completely leave his body-- tension he didn't realize had built up inside him. Guilt follows quickly after-- what kind of person is he to actually feel good about his friend's failure? It's not fair to Travis.]
You sure we should leave? I mean, the night's still young and everything-- you might get a second chance if we stay.
[The words come out automatically, without thought. Wade's merely being polite-- the thought of going through the same rigamarole is excruciating, and that concept brings about such a wave of self-loathing that he can actually taste it in the back of his throat. Selfish. Greedy. Asshole.]
1/2
Travis doesn't have any answers. He doesn't have a name for whatever this has become-- because they have really, really, really fucked up the friends-with-benefits thing-- and he's not entirely sure he wants it all to... go somewhere, or whatever you would say about it. He doesn't plan ahead nearly enough to know any of those things, and in this moment, he doesn't care in the slightest.
All Travis wants right now is Wade.
One hand curls around Wade's forearm, and the other slides to the back of his neck, palm brushing the skin of Wade's cheek as it goes. Raising himself up on the balls of his feet (four inches shouldn't be this much trouble) and gently tipping Wade's head downward, Travis kisses him on the lips: slowly, tenderly, like it's been years since the last time and he's savoring it. Wade still tastes like whiskey. Travis can't find it in him to care.
Fuck.
He's got it bad for this guy, doesn't he.]
2/2
He licks the taste of Wade, and the taste of alcohol, from his lips. He doesn't say a word. He shakes his head, feeling rather petulant.
Hell no.]
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[He can feel the protest still on his lips before it's pinned there, trapped between his mouth and Travis's. It changes into a helpless sound halfway through, a sound of surprise and maybe a little bit of disbelief. Travis's lips are soft, so soft he can hardly stand it, and he feels the world tilt; feels it slide back into place a little. Wade holds Travis's face in his hands-- it could be said that he clutches, so lost in the warmth and sweetness of the other man's kiss. It feels like he's drowning, his heart and his lungs and his entire body filling with a sensation that he doesn't want to be rid of. When Travis parts from him, it's too soon. The universe could've undergone heat death and it still would've been too soon. His words are a sigh.]
Um. Wow. Ahahaha. Wow.
[That's really all he has the capacity to say right now. Please hold while the synapses you are trying to reach are located.]
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So, uh.
[Wade looks so absolutely dumbfounded-- in a good way-- that Travis can't help the stupid sly grin that sneaks its way onto his face.
Keep being cute, man. Keep being cute.Besides, he's pretty proud that he was the one to accomplish it in the first place.]Hope that cleared things up. [Right. The sleeve. Travis releases his hold on Wade's arm, leaving, as predicted, some nasty wrinkles on an otherwise very nice shirt. Whatever: it's gonna end up in a pile on the ground no matter what.] But seriously. Let's get the hell out of here. This place is cramping my style.
[And the only reason why this seems like normal Travis behavior is because Wade can't hear the way his heart's threatening to completely burst out of his ribcage.]