[ And we'll see, Freddie had texted Eggsy, which was fair enough. He saw Freddie as his gay guru but he didn't have to help Eggsy, especially the way he'd propositioned it to him. If they ended up just talking all night, Eggsy wouldn't mind, he still wanted to catch up with his friend. He had no idea where Freddie's head was at after that guy had shown up in the city looking exactly like someone dangerous from Freddie's past... Hopefully he hadn't gotten into more trouble since then.
So he meets Freddie at Cupid Stunt's, doesn't go in, just waits outside while people file out around closing time. He knows Freddie will be out soon enough so he waits by leaning against the front wall of the building in the meantime, dressed in his usual horrendous Jeremy Scott jacket and equally offensive shoes of the same brand. He looks a bit like a lurking chav but nothing can be done to rectify that. ]
[That's the problem with being a good first fuck. People just keep coming back.
Though, jokes aside, Freddie had guessed the first time that Eggsy approached him for sex that it wasn't all for curiosity's sake. When Harry came into the picture it was easy to figure out what he'd been testing the water for. (And now apparently it's love - bloody hell. Though love of a kind that doesn't rule out fucking around, obviously.)
For all the teasing, Freddie doesn't object like he might pretend he does. Eggsy's a friend. And a fucking athlete, so the chances of him actually being a bad time in bed are low. Even if he was, he'd be a nice view.
And there aren't any other particular prospects in Cupid's tonight. Freddie spends the last half hour or so keeping one eye out for Eggsy, surprised when he doesn't show up. Until he checks the security cameras. Eggsy looks like a lurking chav because he is a lurking chav. When Freddie emerges onto the street a few minutes later, catching his breath at the cold outside air biting through the sheen of sweat still clinging to his skin, he reaches to grab Eggsy's wrist.]
Fuck's sake. Get inside, no one's leaving because they're scared you're going to mug them.
[It's a lie. Inside it's quiet, and dark, and warm.]
[ Eggsy grins like what Freddie just said was a compliment. (Technically it is a compliment to Eggsy. He's spent years perfecting the art of looking intimidating so nobody would mess with him back in his neighborhood.)
Then he sees how much of a ghost town it is inside, meaning Freddie was lying about him scaring people, which gets a disappointed pout out of Eggsy. ]
It's fucking dead in here. [ Not that it matters; he didn't think they were sticking around anyway. ] Thought we were walkin' back to yours? [ Though the warmth of inside makes him reluctant to leave. ]
Did I say that? [Freddie raises his eyebrows, keeping a hold on Eggsy's sleeve as he leads the way through the empty scatter of tables and chairs.] I thought I just said meet me here. My place doesn't have a free bar.
[And neither, technically, does Cupid's, which doesn't keep Freddie from snagging a bottle of tequila as they pass it and head into the 'backstage' area. Storage cupboards, offices, a dressing room for the drag acts and the dancers - it's this latter that Freddie pulls Eggsy into, walking backwards.]
[ Eggsy kind of feels like a puppy on a lead when Freddie drags him by his sleeve, curious as he looks around the behind the scenes of the bar. After grinning at the "borrowed" bottle of tequila, he follows Freddie into the dressing room.
He won't ever say no tequila; even at those moments when he probably should after too much alcohol consumption. Fortunately, Eggsy hasn't drank anything alcoholic today, but he's pretty sure when Freddie says 'one' it won't be just one. ]
This the part where you get me really drunk and convince me dressin' in drag's a good idea?
Might be the part where we both get drunk and I let you put your hand up my skirt.
[Although that's not actually in the plans tonight (probably evident in the fact that he's in jeans and a vest, both tight enough to be sprayed on but decidedly unfeminine). There is no plan, per-se, but Freddie's a little drunk, and a little high from the night's earlier excesses, and there's a couch back here draped in faux-furs which seems too good a prospect to waste.
The heating doesn't exactly work, in his flat - not regularly - and he managed to break the bed a few weeks ago. The couch here pulls out into a better option, but he leaves it folded for now, reaching up to retrieve a couple of tumblers from one of the dressing room cupboards.]
But if you think you can work up to fucking me better in false eyelashes and heels, I'm sure I can dig you something out.
[ Eggsy snorts. ] You couldn't pay me to put glue near my eyes. [ He doesn't know how anyone does it. Heels on the other hand... well, he'd probably only wear them for Harry. ]
So you know everything I've been up to. [ He felt like he'd spoken a lot about himself earlier when they'd been texting (that's because he had). Now it was Freddie's turn. ] Anything exciting happen with you?
It's not superglue, for fuck's sake. You'd have an epidemic of blind drag queens.
[The dressing table has a scatter of make up across it. Freddie picks up a little bottle, glancing at it before dropping down to sit on the couch.]
Water based. And me? Nothing much.
[Though there's a nasty trail of bruises under his shirt that may eventually warrant some explanation. And a few on his neck which might be more obvious.]
I haven't decided to marry some old man for his fortune, or anything, unlike some of us.
[ Eggsy retaliates by picking up and throwing what looks like a chicken fillet towards Freddie's face (it's not chicken, it's a silicone enhancer for your bra left on the vanity table). ]
You're uninvited to the wedding. [ He pulls a face at Freddie's teasing, flicking on a light that illuminates a mirror with its frame of bulbs. The light means he can see Freddie's neck better and Eggsy raises an eyebrow at the bruises. ]
[ He's all laughter and grins until Freddie reveals how his neck actually came to be the way it is. Eggsy does come closer, but not for the drink - frowning, he steps forward to inspect the blond's neck up close. Not touching in case it'll hurt if it does, he sticks to looking, knowing Freddie won't want him to make a big deal out of it but he can be very protective when he wants to be - the moment he saw his mother with a black eye, he could have beaten Dean to a bloody pulp. ]
He knows not to try this shit with you again, yeah? 'Cos if he don't I'll send the prick a message. Attached to a brick I'll throw at his fuckin' face. [ Notice how he sounds even more like a chav when he's angry. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
You can come over. Later - actually, you can meet me when the club lets out, we'll walk back. But it's not a lesson, or a transaction.
And we'll see.
no subject
So he meets Freddie at Cupid Stunt's, doesn't go in, just waits outside while people file out around closing time. He knows Freddie will be out soon enough so he waits by leaning against the front wall of the building in the meantime, dressed in his usual horrendous Jeremy Scott jacket and equally offensive shoes of the same brand. He looks a bit like a lurking chav but nothing can be done to rectify that. ]
no subject
Though, jokes aside, Freddie had guessed the first time that Eggsy approached him for sex that it wasn't all for curiosity's sake. When Harry came into the picture it was easy to figure out what he'd been testing the water for. (And now apparently it's love - bloody hell. Though love of a kind that doesn't rule out fucking around, obviously.)
For all the teasing, Freddie doesn't object like he might pretend he does. Eggsy's a friend. And a fucking athlete, so the chances of him actually being a bad time in bed are low. Even if he was, he'd be a nice view.
And there aren't any other particular prospects in Cupid's tonight. Freddie spends the last half hour or so keeping one eye out for Eggsy, surprised when he doesn't show up. Until he checks the security cameras. Eggsy looks like a lurking chav because he is a lurking chav. When Freddie emerges onto the street a few minutes later, catching his breath at the cold outside air biting through the sheen of sweat still clinging to his skin, he reaches to grab Eggsy's wrist.]
Fuck's sake. Get inside, no one's leaving because they're scared you're going to mug them.
[It's a lie. Inside it's quiet, and dark, and warm.]
no subject
Then he sees how much of a ghost town it is inside, meaning Freddie was lying about him scaring people, which gets a disappointed pout out of Eggsy. ]
It's fucking dead in here. [ Not that it matters; he didn't think they were sticking around anyway. ] Thought we were walkin' back to yours? [ Though the warmth of inside makes him reluctant to leave. ]
no subject
[And neither, technically, does Cupid's, which doesn't keep Freddie from snagging a bottle of tequila as they pass it and head into the 'backstage' area. Storage cupboards, offices, a dressing room for the drag acts and the dancers - it's this latter that Freddie pulls Eggsy into, walking backwards.]
One for the road?
no subject
He won't ever say no tequila; even at those moments when he probably should after too much alcohol consumption. Fortunately, Eggsy hasn't drank anything alcoholic today, but he's pretty sure when Freddie says 'one' it won't be just one. ]
This the part where you get me really drunk and convince me dressin' in drag's a good idea?
[ Eggsy knows your game, Freddie Baxter. ]
no subject
[Although that's not actually in the plans tonight (probably evident in the fact that he's in jeans and a vest, both tight enough to be sprayed on but decidedly unfeminine). There is no plan, per-se, but Freddie's a little drunk, and a little high from the night's earlier excesses, and there's a couch back here draped in faux-furs which seems too good a prospect to waste.
The heating doesn't exactly work, in his flat - not regularly - and he managed to break the bed a few weeks ago. The couch here pulls out into a better option, but he leaves it folded for now, reaching up to retrieve a couple of tumblers from one of the dressing room cupboards.]
But if you think you can work up to fucking me better in false eyelashes and heels, I'm sure I can dig you something out.
no subject
So you know everything I've been up to. [ He felt like he'd spoken a lot about himself earlier when they'd been texting (that's because he had). Now it was Freddie's turn. ] Anything exciting happen with you?
no subject
[The dressing table has a scatter of make up across it. Freddie picks up a little bottle, glancing at it before dropping down to sit on the couch.]
Water based. And me? Nothing much.
[Though there's a nasty trail of bruises under his shirt that may eventually warrant some explanation. And a few on his neck which might be more obvious.]
I haven't decided to marry some old man for his fortune, or anything, unlike some of us.
no subject
You're uninvited to the wedding. [ He pulls a face at Freddie's teasing, flicking on a light that illuminates a mirror with its frame of bulbs. The light means he can see Freddie's neck better and Eggsy raises an eyebrow at the bruises. ]
Someone been playin' rough with you?
no subject
[Freddie has to think for a moment before he connects Eggsy's question with what prompted it, glancing across to the mirror, then shrugging.]
He threatened to dislocate my spine, it was very romantic. You should come over here.
[The subject change is made with a crook of his fingers and a little tip of the bottle before he opens it, pouring a measure into the cap.]
no subject
[ He's all laughter and grins until Freddie reveals how his neck actually came to be the way it is. Eggsy does come closer, but not for the drink - frowning, he steps forward to inspect the blond's neck up close. Not touching in case it'll hurt if it does, he sticks to looking, knowing Freddie won't want him to make a big deal out of it but he can be very protective when he wants to be - the moment he saw his mother with a black eye, he could have beaten Dean to a bloody pulp. ]
He knows not to try this shit with you again, yeah? 'Cos if he don't I'll send the prick a message. Attached to a brick I'll throw at his fuckin' face. [ Notice how he sounds even more like a chav when he's angry. ]