"Let fucking go of him. Seems more like you're the kinda people I'd not want around my boys." They certainly didn't seem to want to get their hands off Michael. Bobby took another step closer to him, gesturing to the guy that was still holding on to him. "If you want to beat on him, you've gotta go through me."
And he didn't really see any of them lining up for that. Sure, they were enough that they'd have likely managed to overwhelm him by sheer numbers, but he was sure to put the hurt on them something fierce. Honestly, he was trained and none of them were, so he'd still put his money on himself. "Leave. Him. Be."
"...fine." The guy that had initially been hit on threw his hands up and backed off a step, glaring at Michael. "You fucking faggot better watch yourself. Queer!"
"Noted. Asshole." Michael dropped onto the floor of the car park, leaning against his shitty car as he raised his hand to his face. Yeah, no, that was going to bruise. Fuck.
"You save my car from engine failure, my house from collapse and now my arse from a kicking." Michael laughed weakly as he looked up at Bobby, wondering how the hell he got a guy like that. Some sort of cosmic accident? The only thing that would make it better was if Bobby was vibing on him for real. With a huff, he forced himself up and blinked painfully. Ow. Fuck. His eye hurt.
"Thanks, I owe you one." And hopefully that repayment would allow them to just never speak of this again. This wasn't really something he wanted to broadcast.
"You don't owe me nothin', man. Not for this." Bobby wouldn't hear of it. He put a hand on Michael's hip to try and stabilise him, looking at his face that was still swelling, the bruise getting more pronounced. "You shouldn't be drivin' like that. Come over to my truck, I'll take you to my place."
It was closer, after all. Made sense. He led the way to his truck, looking at Michael with obvious concern. "We can ice it right away. Keeps the swelling down."
"I was thinking of just going home." Then again, he was not sure his head was screwed on right so maybe driving wasn't his best move. "It's not too bad, it's just a bit -- I'm a bit dizzy. Admittedly." He was no stranger to the odd punch for a dodgy move or a wrong saying but he'd not had an organised beating like that over it before. It was so jarring to get his head around.
"Bugger." He was going to look terrible tomorrow, his brothers would want answers and his boss was going to have questions. "Bloody sodding sons a bitches!"
Angrily, he huffed and tilted his head back, trying to stop his nose from bleeding. "I'm going to bleed on your sodding car."
"Yeah, man, you've seen my car. It ain't exactly got the cleanest upholstery." Bobby opened the car door and helped Michael into the passenger seat. He walked around to get into the driver's seat as quickly as possible, then handed Michael a cloth. "Here, I use that for stains usually. You can try and stop the bleeding."
He hoped Michael's nose wasn't broken. He started the motor. No use worrying too much, he could look at him better in proper lighting. "The boys aren't home tonight, so we ain't gonna bother anyone at my place."
"Probably wise. I'm not sure this is the sort of thing I should bring home to the boys." And when he said the boys, he included Lucifer. He imagined Lucifer was going to be pissed off and he was not going to be in a good enough state to talk him down. "I'm -- I'm an idiot. I fucked up. Sorry to get you involved. I'm not going to pretend I'm not thrilled you were here but... yeah."
He should have been smarter. Never hit on a guy in a bar. What was he thinking? The guy gave him the eye. "He spent way too long looking at my dick at the urinals, it seemed like he was trying to make a -- I usually read the situation better."
"Ain't your fault," Bobby said, although part of him thought that it was his fault at least a little. He drove down the road, the sound of the radio filling the silence for him. He imagined Michael in that bar, dressed the way he usually was. That cocky smirk. He could imagine him singling a guy out and giving him the eye all too easily.
"...do think you need higher standards though. What, is that guy gay hot?" He didn't seem it to him.
"I suppose. I mean, no, but that sort of makes it hot." Did that make sense or not? He looked at Bobby, who seemed utterly baffled, and realised it didn't. "I like them when they look like that. A bit rough, a bit -- lower class. It's nice. Those calloused hands, the red face from drinking, the way they look like they're on the verge of calling me a slur... some nights, it's my type. I'm not proud of it."
He probably wouldn't have shared that with Bobby a couple of days ago but they were in the trenches together now, why pretend? "If I have a choice, I'd be chasing delights like you but I work with what I got. There's a difference between slumming and dating and it's you and that guy."
"Think you've gotta treat yourself nicer than that. You're, yanno. Classy. Fancy." With the accent and the way he held himself and, sure, he might not have had much money right now, but there was something about how he held himself. How he looked at the world.
Bobby scoffed at the way he was complimenting, rolling his eyes. "Ain't anything delightful about me. I've got the same rough hands and I ain't exactly redneck royalty here. Peasant like the rest of them idjits."
"It's not about nice. I don't want them to love me or even like me, that's just messy. It's just for the fun. Why not have fun with trash?" He would rather fuck a shitty redneck that have to deal with love and feelings and how complicated that all got. The idea of love was both enticing and horrifying in equal measure and even thinking about it made his stomach drop weirdly.
With an amused snort, he looked at Bobby from the side and had to smile. Even if it split his busted lip back open. "It ain't about royalty, moron. You're handsome, you're strong and you fucking care. That's the bleeding jackpot. Why else do you think all the girls in town want you?"
They were practically scratching at each other for him.
"Don't think they do that. And if they do, they just don't know better. I ain't good at any of that crap." Relationships, love, feelings. He supposed he could relate to what Michael had just said. He didn't want anyone to love him either. Hurt too much when he inevitably fucked it up. Destroyed it.
He slowed the car down as they approached the scrap yard, turning into his usual parking spot. "Just promise me you'll aim higher than that idjit at least, from now on. Get someone who looks like he can bring it."
"I'm mostly looking for someone who won't beat my face in now so perhaps but no promises. Sometimes I forget why I cared about that sort of thing." As they pulled up, Michael opened the door and got himself out of the car, looking down at his shirt. Ew. Thank God he mostly wore black because it was a mess in spite of that.
"Maybe I'll aim the highest and devote myself to pursuing you all night and day. Debra will straight up push me in the lake if I pull you." And that crazy bitch would too, she had those instincts.
"Which one's Debra?" Bobby asked in a disinterested voice, because his mind was stuck on the thought of Michael pursuing him. On what that would be like, if it was ever more than this harmless joking.
He walked next to the other as he headed for his door, then let him walk through first once he'd unlocked. "Get to the kitchen and sit down, I'll find something to ice your face with. Did they get you anywhere else? Ain't the time to play hero, I'll strip you down and find your injuries if I gotta."
"They mostly went for the money maker and the chest. I swear, I haven't been sucker punched in the gut since I was 13. And that was from Luci." Little bastard had a hard hit, especially when wound up and teased all day. He dropped himself down onto the kitchen seat, not super eager to get his shirt off around this hunk of a man. He was hoping they could side-step that. "It wasn't that bad."
It would have been, if it wasn't for Bobby. Lovely, handsome, kind Bobby. Who couldn't imagine being the sexy object of desire that he was. "Not that I'm against the idea of you stripping me down." He raised his eyebrows, smiling at Bobby. "The night I've had and I didn't even get any bad touches. Well, not the fun kind."
"You've got a way with words, don't you?" Bobby shook his head in disbelief, while he wrapped an ice pack into a clean kitchen cloth. His lips were doing the quirk that showed that he was amused more than annoyed and then his face was soft when he approached Michael and put the ice pack against his bruised face. Yeah, that looked bad.
"Nothing broken." He was certain of that much, at least. "Good thing I came by when I did. You're still looking good, promise. Pretty boy." He kind of was.
"You think I'm pretty?" Michael smiled and leaned into the ice against his face, relieved at how it felt. He didn't know if it would really help the swelling but at least it didn't hurt. "Aren't you a charmer. My very own hero. I can't believe you went against those morons for me. They live local. I don't want to give you problems."
And he appreciated that. He liked that Bobby was what he was. Nice, genuine and not expecting anything back. "I just can't do it. Go backwards. I dress how I dress and I want what I want. And I wish I could have that and not this but that's not life."
"I like that about you. That you are who you are. I'm the same way. I ain't ever given a damn what guys like that do so far, not gonna change that now. Anyway, the cops around here know me. They ain't getting me in trouble." At least if they went the legal route. And if they went the illegal route, well.
He didn't usually do this, but there was something about Michael. Something about him that made him want to boast a little, be carefree and teasing and, yes, perhaps do just the tiniest bit of flirting too. "I've killed more people than any of them. I ain't worried."
He raised his eyebrows a little. "I'm super manly, thought you knew that."
"It's so hot when you talk like that, by the way. All protective and strong. Army man, right? You mentioned before." Oh man, he had a thing for soldiers. He didn't realise it before but it was kind of hot. Strong, powerful men, fighting on his behalf. Ah, to be king in such a world - sounded delightful, honestly.
"Sometimes I think you're more than meets the eyes. You're earnest so I have a good read on you but -- I'm not gambling any more tonight. Let's just say - I like that you're not like them. You're different but it doesn't stop you being a country boy, eh?"
And he loved that part especially. "You're one of a kind, Mr Singer."
"I ain't a complete idjit, I'll give you that much." Bobby shrugged. "'s true what they say. You can take a boy out of the country, but not the country out of the boy. Just learned to curse in a couple more languages." And learned to fight and kill, if need be. Sometimes when the need wasn't there, but it was better not to linger on that. Not ever, but especially not when he was trying to impress someone.
"Do you want a beer?" He put a hand on Michael's thigh, still looking at his face. "I can drive you home later if you want. Or you can stay the night."
"I have to be home by at least 6am, it's my turn to make breakfast and if I miss it, Lucifer will hold it against me any time he stays out late." And he could not live in a world where Lucifer had any sort of leverage on him. Even if it meant having an awkward early morning talk about gay bashing. "Sure, I'll take a beer."
He wasn't much of a beer drinker but when in Rome, drink a beer and get weirdly turn on by some redneck guy's family hovel. "I can start thinking of what I'm going to tell people. Do you think a mugging is believable in a small town or shall I lie and say I went to the city? Everyone here fears the big city."
"Yeah, they think it's a hotbed of sin. Real let-down, if you ask me. Bit of a tease." Bobby walked back over with two beers, handing one to Michael before sitting down by him. At least it wasn't swelling further, that was something. "Maybe just say you heard someone say America ain't shit so you had to get into a righteous fight with them."
Seemed like the right vibe to calm people down. "Though I reckon your brother's gonna see through that one."
"Lucifer will know. It's not the first time. Though this is definitely the worst time." the odd punch happened but it happened with Lucifer too. Sometimes they misread and missed lines but this? This was different. This was a proper beating. Lucifer wasn't an idiot, he'd cotton on. "I think I'll tell Raphael I fell. He'd believe it, kids are dumb like that."
And he had no idea what Gabriel would think but he hoped nothing. At all. He sipped his beer and then winced. "Why do guys like beer?" Seriously? "I never got having beer when you can have whiskey."
"Beer's less strong. You can have a couple beers and still get work done, harder to do that with whiskey. Got some guys who don't drink water, just beer." Not that Bobby was quite that extreme or it'd be a lot harder to keep in any sort of shape. Or to stay somewhat sober around his boys, which he did try. "I got whiskey though, if you'd rather."
He considered Michael's face again. "Though I don't know how well a beatin' like that mixes with alcohol."
"I would go ahead and assume not well." Unfortunately, he should probably keep himself soberish and awake for a while, just to make sure those punches just knocked him about, not rattled anything loose. "I suppose it makes sense. I like scotch, whiskey, they're more my speed. Lucifer likes beer and margarita."
He and Lucifer went to a bar, ordered a lot of different drinks and tried them all one night to work out their alcohol preference. Then they slept in their car and drove back crazy hungover. "I only started drinking a couple of months ago so I'm still getting a hang of what people drink when and what I even like. I know I don't like anything too cheap, then it tastes watered down."
"You're so fancy. I still think you've gotta be a city boy, you just ain't in the city yet." Just a question of time with someone like that. Fancy words and fancy tastes, dressing to impress. City-bound for sure. "Look into my eyes, yeah?"
He caught Michael's gaze and made sure he had his attention so he could check whether he might have any after-effect from being knocked around. "You look pretty clear to me. I'd give you my whiskey, but it's cheap as hell. Not watered down though."
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waywarddone2024-09-22 04:38 pm
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And he didn't really see any of them lining up for that. Sure, they were enough that they'd have likely managed to overwhelm him by sheer numbers, but he was sure to put the hurt on them something fierce. Honestly, he was trained and none of them were, so he'd still put his money on himself. "Leave. Him. Be."
"...fine." The guy that had initially been hit on threw his hands up and backed off a step, glaring at Michael. "You fucking faggot better watch yourself. Queer!"
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"You save my car from engine failure, my house from collapse and now my arse from a kicking." Michael laughed weakly as he looked up at Bobby, wondering how the hell he got a guy like that. Some sort of cosmic accident? The only thing that would make it better was if Bobby was vibing on him for real. With a huff, he forced himself up and blinked painfully. Ow. Fuck. His eye hurt.
"Thanks, I owe you one." And hopefully that repayment would allow them to just never speak of this again. This wasn't really something he wanted to broadcast.
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It was closer, after all. Made sense. He led the way to his truck, looking at Michael with obvious concern. "We can ice it right away. Keeps the swelling down."
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"Bugger." He was going to look terrible tomorrow, his brothers would want answers and his boss was going to have questions. "Bloody sodding sons a bitches!"
Angrily, he huffed and tilted his head back, trying to stop his nose from bleeding. "I'm going to bleed on your sodding car."
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He hoped Michael's nose wasn't broken. He started the motor. No use worrying too much, he could look at him better in proper lighting. "The boys aren't home tonight, so we ain't gonna bother anyone at my place."
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He should have been smarter. Never hit on a guy in a bar. What was he thinking? The guy gave him the eye. "He spent way too long looking at my dick at the urinals, it seemed like he was trying to make a -- I usually read the situation better."
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"...do think you need higher standards though. What, is that guy gay hot?" He didn't seem it to him.
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He probably wouldn't have shared that with Bobby a couple of days ago but they were in the trenches together now, why pretend? "If I have a choice, I'd be chasing delights like you but I work with what I got. There's a difference between slumming and dating and it's you and that guy."
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Bobby scoffed at the way he was complimenting, rolling his eyes. "Ain't anything delightful about me. I've got the same rough hands and I ain't exactly redneck royalty here. Peasant like the rest of them idjits."
Perhaps a bit less likely to use a slur.
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With an amused snort, he looked at Bobby from the side and had to smile. Even if it split his busted lip back open. "It ain't about royalty, moron. You're handsome, you're strong and you fucking care. That's the bleeding jackpot. Why else do you think all the girls in town want you?"
They were practically scratching at each other for him.
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He slowed the car down as they approached the scrap yard, turning into his usual parking spot. "Just promise me you'll aim higher than that idjit at least, from now on. Get someone who looks like he can bring it."
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"Maybe I'll aim the highest and devote myself to pursuing you all night and day. Debra will straight up push me in the lake if I pull you." And that crazy bitch would too, she had those instincts.
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He walked next to the other as he headed for his door, then let him walk through first once he'd unlocked. "Get to the kitchen and sit down, I'll find something to ice your face with. Did they get you anywhere else? Ain't the time to play hero, I'll strip you down and find your injuries if I gotta."
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It would have been, if it wasn't for Bobby. Lovely, handsome, kind Bobby. Who couldn't imagine being the sexy object of desire that he was. "Not that I'm against the idea of you stripping me down." He raised his eyebrows, smiling at Bobby. "The night I've had and I didn't even get any bad touches. Well, not the fun kind."
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"Nothing broken." He was certain of that much, at least. "Good thing I came by when I did. You're still looking good, promise. Pretty boy." He kind of was.
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And he appreciated that. He liked that Bobby was what he was. Nice, genuine and not expecting anything back. "I just can't do it. Go backwards. I dress how I dress and I want what I want. And I wish I could have that and not this but that's not life."
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He didn't usually do this, but there was something about Michael. Something about him that made him want to boast a little, be carefree and teasing and, yes, perhaps do just the tiniest bit of flirting too. "I've killed more people than any of them. I ain't worried."
He raised his eyebrows a little. "I'm super manly, thought you knew that."
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"Sometimes I think you're more than meets the eyes. You're earnest so I have a good read on you but -- I'm not gambling any more tonight. Let's just say - I like that you're not like them. You're different but it doesn't stop you being a country boy, eh?"
And he loved that part especially. "You're one of a kind, Mr Singer."
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"Do you want a beer?" He put a hand on Michael's thigh, still looking at his face. "I can drive you home later if you want. Or you can stay the night."
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He wasn't much of a beer drinker but when in Rome, drink a beer and get weirdly turn on by some redneck guy's family hovel. "I can start thinking of what I'm going to tell people. Do you think a mugging is believable in a small town or shall I lie and say I went to the city? Everyone here fears the big city."
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Seemed like the right vibe to calm people down. "Though I reckon your brother's gonna see through that one."
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And he had no idea what Gabriel would think but he hoped nothing. At all. He sipped his beer and then winced. "Why do guys like beer?" Seriously? "I never got having beer when you can have whiskey."
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He considered Michael's face again. "Though I don't know how well a beatin' like that mixes with alcohol."
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He and Lucifer went to a bar, ordered a lot of different drinks and tried them all one night to work out their alcohol preference. Then they slept in their car and drove back crazy hungover. "I only started drinking a couple of months ago so I'm still getting a hang of what people drink when and what I even like. I know I don't like anything too cheap, then it tastes watered down."
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He caught Michael's gaze and made sure he had his attention so he could check whether he might have any after-effect from being knocked around. "You look pretty clear to me. I'd give you my whiskey, but it's cheap as hell. Not watered down though."
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