Flash! Bam! Alakazam!
Title: Flash! Bam! Alakazam!
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Brian/Matt
Summary: This one might be heaven-sent, Matt, so don't screw it up!
Disclaimer: The only thing here that is mine is the plot. I do not intend to besmirch any actual people, whom I also don't own. The title belongs to Nat King Cole from "Orange Colored Sky."
Wednesday brought a crystal clear sky, and an urgent thought to Matt's head. He was turning into mush. He rolled out of bed and met the floor with a THUNK! He cracked his neck when he stood up, and went about the morning routine. He was a little early that morning so when he left, the sun was just coming up. It made him smile, and something gave him hope about the day. He also felt more organized.
His notepad was sitting nicely in the passenger seat, with a pen right next to it. Spare change lay neatly in the cup holder. His briefcase was secured in a clean backseat. Today was a good day. That's when it hit him that his definition of a good day was now defined by dangerously low standards. The first toll booth came into sight, and the lane that Brian had been in had a red light over it. He sighed, and started going to another. Suddenly, the light turned green, and Matt found himself swerving in that direction. He pulled up to a familiar face: Brian was resting his chin in his hands, elbows on the ledge. A cheeky smile was stretched across his face.
"Hello..." princess Matt added silently to his greeting.
"Hi! Will that be cash or check?" Brian said, not moving his posture a bit. Matt sorta liked that, but he batted the thought away. He looked down, and grabbed a fiver. He wanted some change. He handed it to Brian.
"Hm..." Brian said thoughtfully as he took it. He turned to the register inside. "Wanna meet me on Friday?" Matt knew in the back of his mind that this was getting weird, but he just went with it.
"Sure. Where?"
Brian handed him his change and a slip of paper, obviously prepared beforehand. "Drive on," he said, closing the window with a devilish smirk.
Matt's jaw dropped, but he did as he was told. That's when it dawned on him. When the fuck did he start picking up guys? He really was turning into mush. He looked to the orange sunrise, hopeful for some sort of answer.
=======
Matt kept himself properly buried in work all day long. Once again, it became obvious that his section always followed his lead. However, he managed to fill his breaks with thoughts of Brian, but that part of his mind managed to stay contained. He worked so steadily through the day, that he got off work even later than usual. It was 8:00 when he left, and he felt like his brain was totally fried. Rather than get in his car and go home, he piled all his work stuff into his car, got his wallet, took off his jacket, and went across the street to place he'd always been curious about. "Art's Tavern," the sign proclaimed. He pulled the door open and walked in.
The lively sound of clinking glasses hit his hears, and he felt comfortable. He knew he looked like the average young businessman out for the evening; he stood a little taller as the hostess approached him. "Welcome to Art's Tavern, how many in your party?" She had a soft, white smile, but it looked fake surrounded by the trademark California-orange skin. He returned a smile, and slathered on the charm. With dimples on top.
"Just one. How about at the bar?"
The hostess smiled and giggled. For a nanosecond, Matt felt like he might throw up. "Of course, sweetie. Right this way." She turned - letting her glance remain over her shoulder for a second longer - and as she led Matt to the bar, she let her hips swing. It was good that she didn't see her efforts go unnoticed. Matt sat down and smiled to her as she left. He ordered a steak and some fries along with some sort of drink he'd never heard of before. He watched as people milled about the restaurant, and it reminded Matt of the slip of paper Brian had given him. He checked his wallet, and saw that he had indeed put it there at some point during the day. He unfolded it, and tried to read it in the dim light. This is why posh writers prefer coffee shops, isn't it? he noted wryly. For a moment, everything stood still.
7:00 Art's Tavern. This Friday! Don't forget.
332-7548 xxxxx Brian
"Need anything over here?" The bartender's voice made Matt jump. The paper fell onto the floor, and Matt pulled a smile across his face.
"Can you tell me when the late shift starts?"
The bartender looked at him funny. "Yeah, in an hour. Why?"
Matt shrugged. "No reason. Hey, I'd like a Heineken."
The bartender nodded, although he looked a little put-off. The drink took a while to come back, but in the meantime, Matt set about trying to get the paper from the floor.
=======
Matt had tried to stay sober for that hour. He really did. But by the time "late shift" started, he had knocked back a number of beers. Possibly a few other drinks. In any case, he had already gotten into the vodka.
In a surprisingly lucid moment, Matt found a flaw in his reason for waiting around. Just because Brian had invited him here, didn't mean that he worked here. In fact, it probably meant the opposite! Ohhhhh....fuck. He waved down a bartender.
"No offense, dude, but I think you've had enough," the bartender said. Matt leaned over, using an empty beer bottle for support and coming very close to the other man's face. In Matt's line of vision, he didn't see the other man move back a little.
"Noooo...No'tha...Does a Briiiian worh'ere?"
"I'm a Brian," the bartender said.
"Fu'..." Matt licked his lips, and the Un-Brian walked away. "Wai'!" The Un-Brian turned back.
"Dude, I can call you a taxi, if you want."
"Nooooo...No'tha....Does another Briiian worh'ere?"
"Um. Yeah, I'm going to take you outside, and we're gonna wait for a taxi, dude."
"Noooo...I'an do it mih'selfff." Matt stumbled to the door, and the cute hostess was still there. "Hi," he said. She nodded, with a slightly condescending smile. "Hey...phone?" he asked, slumping forward a little.
"Ummm...I don't give my number to strange men. Here, let me help you." The girl all but shoved him out of the door.
Matt realized his wallet was still in there, and he hadn't paid. "Fuck."
"Whoa, Matt?"
Matt looked up through the haze and saw the Real Brian there. "Heyyyy..." he wanted to add more, but he was concentrating on remaining in an upright position. Brian immediately went over to support him. "My wallet," Matt said, trying to point back inside. He totally blanked after that.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Brian/Matt
Summary: This one might be heaven-sent, Matt, so don't screw it up!
Disclaimer: The only thing here that is mine is the plot. I do not intend to besmirch any actual people, whom I also don't own. The title belongs to Nat King Cole from "Orange Colored Sky."
Wednesday brought a crystal clear sky, and an urgent thought to Matt's head. He was turning into mush. He rolled out of bed and met the floor with a THUNK! He cracked his neck when he stood up, and went about the morning routine. He was a little early that morning so when he left, the sun was just coming up. It made him smile, and something gave him hope about the day. He also felt more organized.
His notepad was sitting nicely in the passenger seat, with a pen right next to it. Spare change lay neatly in the cup holder. His briefcase was secured in a clean backseat. Today was a good day. That's when it hit him that his definition of a good day was now defined by dangerously low standards. The first toll booth came into sight, and the lane that Brian had been in had a red light over it. He sighed, and started going to another. Suddenly, the light turned green, and Matt found himself swerving in that direction. He pulled up to a familiar face: Brian was resting his chin in his hands, elbows on the ledge. A cheeky smile was stretched across his face.
"Hello..." princess Matt added silently to his greeting.
"Hi! Will that be cash or check?" Brian said, not moving his posture a bit. Matt sorta liked that, but he batted the thought away. He looked down, and grabbed a fiver. He wanted some change. He handed it to Brian.
"Hm..." Brian said thoughtfully as he took it. He turned to the register inside. "Wanna meet me on Friday?" Matt knew in the back of his mind that this was getting weird, but he just went with it.
"Sure. Where?"
Brian handed him his change and a slip of paper, obviously prepared beforehand. "Drive on," he said, closing the window with a devilish smirk.
Matt's jaw dropped, but he did as he was told. That's when it dawned on him. When the fuck did he start picking up guys? He really was turning into mush. He looked to the orange sunrise, hopeful for some sort of answer.
=======
Matt kept himself properly buried in work all day long. Once again, it became obvious that his section always followed his lead. However, he managed to fill his breaks with thoughts of Brian, but that part of his mind managed to stay contained. He worked so steadily through the day, that he got off work even later than usual. It was 8:00 when he left, and he felt like his brain was totally fried. Rather than get in his car and go home, he piled all his work stuff into his car, got his wallet, took off his jacket, and went across the street to place he'd always been curious about. "Art's Tavern," the sign proclaimed. He pulled the door open and walked in.
The lively sound of clinking glasses hit his hears, and he felt comfortable. He knew he looked like the average young businessman out for the evening; he stood a little taller as the hostess approached him. "Welcome to Art's Tavern, how many in your party?" She had a soft, white smile, but it looked fake surrounded by the trademark California-orange skin. He returned a smile, and slathered on the charm. With dimples on top.
"Just one. How about at the bar?"
The hostess smiled and giggled. For a nanosecond, Matt felt like he might throw up. "Of course, sweetie. Right this way." She turned - letting her glance remain over her shoulder for a second longer - and as she led Matt to the bar, she let her hips swing. It was good that she didn't see her efforts go unnoticed. Matt sat down and smiled to her as she left. He ordered a steak and some fries along with some sort of drink he'd never heard of before. He watched as people milled about the restaurant, and it reminded Matt of the slip of paper Brian had given him. He checked his wallet, and saw that he had indeed put it there at some point during the day. He unfolded it, and tried to read it in the dim light. This is why posh writers prefer coffee shops, isn't it? he noted wryly. For a moment, everything stood still.
7:00 Art's Tavern. This Friday! Don't forget.
332-7548 xxxxx Brian
"Need anything over here?" The bartender's voice made Matt jump. The paper fell onto the floor, and Matt pulled a smile across his face.
"Can you tell me when the late shift starts?"
The bartender looked at him funny. "Yeah, in an hour. Why?"
Matt shrugged. "No reason. Hey, I'd like a Heineken."
The bartender nodded, although he looked a little put-off. The drink took a while to come back, but in the meantime, Matt set about trying to get the paper from the floor.
=======
Matt had tried to stay sober for that hour. He really did. But by the time "late shift" started, he had knocked back a number of beers. Possibly a few other drinks. In any case, he had already gotten into the vodka.
In a surprisingly lucid moment, Matt found a flaw in his reason for waiting around. Just because Brian had invited him here, didn't mean that he worked here. In fact, it probably meant the opposite! Ohhhhh....fuck. He waved down a bartender.
"No offense, dude, but I think you've had enough," the bartender said. Matt leaned over, using an empty beer bottle for support and coming very close to the other man's face. In Matt's line of vision, he didn't see the other man move back a little.
"Noooo...No'tha...Does a Briiiian worh'ere?"
"I'm a Brian," the bartender said.
"Fu'..." Matt licked his lips, and the Un-Brian walked away. "Wai'!" The Un-Brian turned back.
"Dude, I can call you a taxi, if you want."
"Nooooo...No'tha....Does another Briiian worh'ere?"
"Um. Yeah, I'm going to take you outside, and we're gonna wait for a taxi, dude."
"Noooo...I'an do it mih'selfff." Matt stumbled to the door, and the cute hostess was still there. "Hi," he said. She nodded, with a slightly condescending smile. "Hey...phone?" he asked, slumping forward a little.
"Ummm...I don't give my number to strange men. Here, let me help you." The girl all but shoved him out of the door.
Matt realized his wallet was still in there, and he hadn't paid. "Fuck."
"Whoa, Matt?"
Matt looked up through the haze and saw the Real Brian there. "Heyyyy..." he wanted to add more, but he was concentrating on remaining in an upright position. Brian immediately went over to support him. "My wallet," Matt said, trying to point back inside. He totally blanked after that.