ONLY FOOLS RUSH IN — PRIVATE

[B. DELORIA]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]/we deserve some fluff in all this pain Rev

Right, so technically, Butch wasn't old enough to be sitting at the bar, let alone drinking at it, but charm and the right connections could go a long way, and he had plenty of the former. He'd been a delinquent his whole life, so he really wasn't a stranger to faking it, though he'd only had someone in on the trouble with him in the last few years. Before then, it was mostly a solo gig, and boy, had he been missing out then. Mischief was even better with a partner in crime, who was currently showing off in the small area this establishment had for a dance floor; Butch watched with one corner of his mouth lifted, quickly hidden in a glass when Val happened to glance his way. He couldn't always act like a complete sap in public- it just wasn't becoming, and he had a reputation to maintain, although that esteem could use a bit more of the truth, if only so he wouldn't have people flirting with him inadvertently in front of Val. Even when Nosebleed wasn't around, it wasn't a scenario Butch was fond of, not anymore. He was taken goods, yeah?

The woman he'd been chatting with for a little while now made her advances a little bit clearer, and his dark eyebrows rose, before he laughed good-naturedly. Butch was flattered, really, though uninterested. He adjusted his leather jacket and took another sip of whatever the hell he'd asked for, gaze shifting from the charming woman to the blond on the dance floor, before looking back to her and shrugging. "No can do, sweetheart, I've got a baby already." She quizzically followed his stare when he glanced at Val, understanding dawning, followed by embarrassment, though he was quick to keep her from getting too abashed. "Water under the bridge. I think the guy over there went a bit green in the eyes over you, though." In other words, there was someone jealous, and she didn't have to go home if she didn't want to.

Butch, in the meantime, was content in his current state. Sooner or later, Val was gonna walk over here and pull him out to dance, but for now, he'd admire from afar and enjoy a drink.

[WANDERER]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]/ you are. very right. this is adorable.
+ if this is crap, blame it on it being my first mobile post in three years

And to think that Val had been a perfect student at one point, the kind of kid to sit in the library until it closed and ask the teacher how he could do the best on the project. Sure, he’d also been the kid that’d end up in storage closets with a stolen pack of cigarettes, but everyone needed to let off stress in some way, and that wasn’t a story many people knew. Sneaking off to smoke just wasn’t supposed to lead to underage drinking and letting himself get swept up in a certain someone’s charm. See, Val hadn’t been a delinquent his whole life, so even though Butch blushed pink when Val got a little confident in public, and the constant toying with his hair was sweet — not a lot of people knew about it, that’s all. He’s pretty sure he deserves whatever crazy looks he gets for letting his head rest on that particular shoulder, but just because they don’t see all of it. Like the way Butch had taken their first kiss slow, or the way he’d frozen up with Val’s hands on his skin. It’s not like things are perfect, but really? He’s never been happier.

When his stomach first decided it was a good idea to do flips around Butch, that was just… a mess. Saying that Val beat himself up over it was an understatement. He’d spent an eternity waiting for the ground beneath his feet to crumble, heart catching in his throat every time it felt like their tentative okay was ready to fracture back to the way things were. Or —this. The first time Butch kissed back, everything lit up in shades of gold. They’d both trusted their weight to the unknown and it was solid, Butch was solid. He trusts him. More than anything, really, even separated by all this space. The lady he’s chatting with seems nice enough, but he can feel where blue eyes linger even when most of his concentration is on moving. It’s only when she walks off with a meek sort of farewell that curiosity gets the best of him, and Val abandons the people dancing with him to head for the bar with uncharacteristically few apologies for shoulder bumps and near hip checks.

Instead of ordering a drink of his own once he gets there (thankfully without more than an accidental bruise or two), he leans over him and steals a sip from Butch’s glass, an almost teasing challenge in the way he smiles at him. Unfortunately used to alcohol’s burn and already hot halfway up his chest from it, he manages to keep himself from clearing his throat as he sets the glass back down. His hands skate from Butch’s shoulders, down his shirt to his hips, everything warm from his jacket. His own feels insufferably, unbearably hot on his skin, but that could just be the atmosphere. Or Butch. Either way, it’s still the most comfortable thing he has. A perfect fit now, like the way he fits between his thighs as he stands here, even if the stupid barstool keeps him around Val’s height, not much shorter that normal. That’s probably a good thing.  ”So. What’d you say to chase her off? Hopefully you were nice about it.” Does he really care? Maybe a little, but barely. How unkind.

[B. DELORIA]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]/that is so far from crap you biscuit

It wasn't like Butch hadn't received his fair share of "what the hell" looks after he and Val had been caught that first time. Butch and Nosebleed? The bully and the guy he'd spent most of their childhood and teenage years yanking around? If someone told him when he was sixteen that he'd end up skipping out on his fellow Tunnel Snakes to kiss Val in one of the storage closets, or in the backseat of his car at lunch time- well, he would've laughed in that person's face right before throttling them. Yet here they were, Val dancing and leaving the admiring looks unanswered, while Butch declined a flirtatious offer he would've gladly accepted once. They had a good thing going, the two of them; it didn't matter that so many people from both their circles thought they were each crazy in their own way for holding hands and stealing time together. Val was too smart for him, had promise Butch was sure his dad hated was being wasted with a delinquent like him, and he was going to settle in with a nice, high-paying job because that brain of his could do just about anything. Except, apparently, convince him to keep away from trouble.

Neither could Butch's. Even when they were younger, there'd always been something pulling him back to Val. Now, he figured part of it was how his hair looked out in the sun, twirling the rays around every strand, and how pretty those eyes of his were in the same light. Butch didn't glow like that when he went outside.

Hell, even in here, Val seemed to shine under the low-lighting, and as he made his way over to Butch, he could only grin, leaning back, arms propped up on the bar. Val stole a drink from his glass, although all it did was give a faint blush along his cheeks, which deepened when warm hands left trails down his shoulders and torso, landing to brand his hips. Val fit like a glove, standing between his thighs like he owns the place, and Butch sat up, if only so he could wrap his arms around Val's waist. "'Course I was nice. Gave her some advice, even, but I don't think you really care about that, do you?" His mouth curled into another lazy grin, sapphire eyes glinting. "Gimme some sugar, doll. I need something sweet."

[WANDERER]

[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]/ you cant convince me it’s not

What were the doing? Everyone they were close to seemed a little bit insulted by them just being together. He’d thought Amata would explode once the news reached her; there are still some days he can feel her fingers tight around his wrist as she dragged him off to scold him, to demand the truth. It’s just done rumor, right? No, it hadn’t been. His heart had still been soaring high from Butch’s mouth at the time, like nothing could go wrong. He’d told her the truth, and then his dad later on. And after the standard barrage of questions (are you sexually active? are you being safe? you don’t feel pressured into anything, do you?), even Dad, ever-supportive and loving, has tried guiding him in another direction. Everyone thought the same way Butch did. He was going places, he had a future. The truth is, he can’t think of settling down like that, with some job where his only concern is a paycheck. When his life turned into some mapped-out route to work and home, when the most exciting thing in his life is laying down afterwork — that’s not right. And he’s not going to give it a try, he’s not going to settle.

And Butch, that’s not settling. Even as the guy that kissed people to say thank you and good luck, he hasn’t quite met someone who takes his breath away like that. It’s not that he doesn’t glow, he just hasn’t seen himself in the dark, when it’s just the moonlight on his face. Makes everything shine like he’s part of the scenery. He should’ve been a movie star.

He’s just not giving himself enough credit here. It’s like he's always been equal parts infuriating and attractive, especially when he sits like that, like he’s in control of the goddamn room. Now it’s probably swayed to three-fourths attractive with the way he grins. It makes his breath hitch, his heart flutter, even when he’s the one doing the touching, shifting until his thumbs slip underneath the hem of his shirt and back down as Butch leans in. People are probably staring, but at least here the most you’re insane looks they get are the ones coming from people disgusted by public displays of affection. Not like he could care even if his dad was standing there with that disapproving frown. When they’re like this, they might as well own the place. ”Well now I’m sorta curious,” he snorts gracelessly, mouth curved to a small smile. That train of thought isn’t enough to distract him from nearly pitching forward on command, admittedly almost overeager.

This had started with the intention of pulling him out with the other dancers, and instead the heavy tension pooling in his stomach sorta just wants him to skip the dancing and head home, maybe take the scenic route and take the time to share. ”That’s a terrible line, you know.” Val kisses him anyway, eyes closing even if he doesn’t mean for it to last more than a second. It doesn’t work out like that, it never does with Butch. His mouth tastes like alcohol in a sweet kind of way, and his hair is soft when he lifts one hand to brush against his face to the back of his head. It’s a slightly stiff with whatever products he uses, though. It’s nice. You’re pretty when you blush.” The hand still on Butch’s hip shifts to tug at one of his belt loops, leaning away with a grin of his own.

”C’mon, you’ve sat around long enough.”