horseboykarl

Gareth: I've just finished telling Dave about the stalker -- poor fella looks so worried he's turned as red as his hair -- when in comes a fella all decked out in bike leathers. He swaggers, yeah, he really swaggers, right up to me bar. I excuse myself from Dave and head over to where he's carefully puttin' his helmet under his seat. "Howyeh, there. So yeh was out ridin' then? Gorgeous day for it. Wha' kinda bike've yeh got?"

Karl: I've got a chopped-down Harley. Just came off a long ride and my butt is sore and my throat is dry. What's good?

Dave: This stalker's got me worried, I thought he'd been dealt with for good, but now he's back? I'm about to start pestering Gareth for more details when I glance sideways and see who he's pulling a beer for. "Karl? Damn! It is you! You bastard!" Gareth gives me a sideways look, but I'm already off my barstool and grabbing him by the arm. "Missed you like hell! Sit down, beer's are on me, talk already!" I look back at Gareth, worries pushed aside for the moment, a grin on my face. "On my tab, Silver, anything he wants."

Karl: I can't stop the grin. Dave has that effect on me. "Still propping up the bar, Dave? Mighta known you'd be the first person I see." Dave looked good, but tired around the eyes, like he'd been gnawing on something. Made me want to take him home and . . . don't go there, idiot, you've been gone a long time . . . "Thanks for the beer, mate." I settle for a manly elbow nudge and wink at the bartender.

Dave: "Someone's gotta hold this old bar up, mate! Been on double duty since you left town." I see you wink at Gareth, and realize you two don't know each other. "Gareth, want you to meet Karl, an old friend of mine. Karl - this is Gareth, undoubtedly the best bartender in Wellie, and by some rumors a fairly adequate singer in a local band, too. And a good mate of mine." I turn back to Karl, still grinning like an idiot. "You back to stay, or just passing through hoping I'll try to seduce you?"

Karl: Damn him, he reads me too well. But I know him, too, and something's bothering him. "Pleased to meet you, Gareth. I'm sorry this lunatic has chosen your bar for his second home." The boy is handsome. "Where do you sing?"

Gareth: "Got a band there, that's a little better'n adequate, I'll have yeh know ..." glarin' at Dave, fuckin' eejit that he is. "We're called The Playboys. Celtic rock kinda thing. Got a gig next Friday at Molly's, yeh should come check us out. I'd invite this wanker here ..." another glare at Dave "... but it's way past the old man's bedtime."

Dave: I lean in towards Karl, and stage-whisper loud enough for Gareth to hear. "Don't tell the kid, but he's too damned talented for his own good. I'm forced to humble him just to keep things in proportion. His band's amazing, really. Definitely, go see them!" I return a glare back to Gareth, along with half a smirk. "I'd go with you, but I think they've got some upper age limit there, old wankers get bounced at the door."

Karl: "Celtic rock, eh? Sounds good." I notice the easy affection between Dave and the boy. Wonder if that's his trouble, chasing after a young one. Time to yank his chain a bit. "You are bloody old, Dave. Too old to keep up with me. I flew all the way out from LA, then hopped on the bike and rode for three days. I'm not even fuckin' sure what day it is, but I bet I could drink your sorry ass under the table right now." Yes, I'm obnoxious.

Dave: "I'd tell you what day it is, but that would take the challenge out of it now, wouldn't it?" I nudge our empty glasses towards Gareth, eyes never leaving Karl's face. "I think I can keep up okay for an old man. That flight and drive is gonna catch up with you, I'm betting on that. Another beer, mate?" You've been gone a while, but now I'm remembering what it was about you. That tauting, the dares, always on the edge of a challenge. You drive me nuts, and hopefully I return the favor. "Pour us each a couple drafts, Gareth, save some time."

Karl: Gotcha, mate. His eyes are on fire with battle. Good on me, I still remember his buttons. Dave annoyed is so much more fun than Dave bothered. My ass really is sore and I'm so tired I can barely see, but at least he doesn't look worried anymore. I just hope he gets me and the bike home in one piece when I collapse. The boy pushes the glasses our way and I take mine without breaking his gaze. I bring it to my lips slowly, hoping he'll take the bait, and then I tilt my head back and open my throat, letting the liquid slide down all at once. I lick my lips and set the empty glass down and answer his challenge the only way I can. "Bring it, mate."

Dave: "Funny how quick you forget the last time, eh? It's brought, mate." I take up a beer, and down it in three long gulps. Never could quite do that full throat swallow move but what the hell. Last time... last time. Trying to remember the details myself, even as I'm taunting you. Fuck, right. Hopefully you won't recall much of that, now that I'm remembering who won. "Bring it back." Gareth's giving us an amused grin, and I flash him a look that I hope says 'I'm good - and be ready to call a taxi' all at once.

Gareth: This is quite the performance unfoldin' here before my eyes. I doan remember ever seein' Dave look so bold an' -- well, alive. Least not wi' his clothes on anyway. I grin at the two of 'em and fill up a pitcher a' beer for 'em. "Here, yeh two work on this for awhile. I'm tired a' pullin' yer pints, an' looks like the two a' yis are just gettin' started." This Karl's quite the character. An' if he can make Dave look so smiley an' sheepish all at the same time, then he's alrigh' in my book. I'm just gonna sit back an' enjoy the show.

Karl: I nod to the boy, can't remember his name. . . I grab the pitcher and refill our glasses, trying to keep my hand steady. The first one I chugged has suddenly hit me, but I've got to keep going. He's pushed back and he knows what I'll do. Lucky I bumped into Dave when I was in the mood to go on a tear. Trust him. I hand him his glass and raise my own. "A toast. To fuckin' old friends." He returned the salute and raised his glass to his lips. I sighed and drained the glass, but the funny thing is, once you've downed this first one in one go, the rest just get easier. I quietly moved against the bar for support at the same time trying to loom over him, remind him of things. I remember perfectly well what happened last time.

Dave: Definitely hitting me now. Damned beer. I swear I can sip scotch or marnier all night long at a right steady pace and could probably perform brain surgery too, but give me too much beer too quickly, and just.... "To old fucking friends, mate." That came out wrong. But I don't care, I see you slumping to the bar, and yeah, your eyes are still full of flash and spark but I'm betting you'd have trouble about now putting left foot in front of right.
"Ready for another, or should our extremely handsome bartender dial a cab?"

Karl: "Ready if you are." I raise my glass to him and swallow the beer. Much easier. Too much. My brain is wandering off without my permission. I focus on his lips. Especially that bottom one. I start to grab his shoulder but I miss and end up leaning on him. Whoops. "Old times sake, y'old wanker." I kiss him. Or I try to. I got a little slobbery. Hope he lets me down easy.

Dave: Why is it that anytime we've ever kissed it's been drunken and sloppy? I can barely push you back enough to try to get something important across to you. Or two important things. Maybe three. "Karl. Guess what, mate - I win. For once." I glance at Gareth, and try not to wobble. "Call us a cab, Silver?" Okay, now back to Karl and I think I need to try to make something clear here in spite of the beery haze. "Gotta tell you something here, and I hope you're still with me. Going to get us a cab, and take you home first, make sure you're set. Then I'm going home. Just... want you to know we're not going the same place tonight, not that I wouldn't have in a shot a few months ago. But I'm involved now, and you might find some irony in who it's with if you had three braincells working right now."

Karl: "My brain's just fine. It's my legs." I latched on to him. Let him see I'm happy for him. "It's the boy . . . the bartender, right?" Just glad to be back. Glad to see him. Glad he's my friend. Glad some things don't change. "Just . . . get me home."

Dave: I wrap an arm around your waist, and help keep you upright. "The bartender's a good friend, close one... but nope, it's not him. Paris. Um.... Theodred's other half. Theo's another story, definitely not in my sights.. but yeah, Paris. You okay with that?" I let you go enough to fumble around for your helmet, and then grab you again just in time to keep us both up on two feet each. "Matter of fact, you're gonna meet him. Party soon. Holiday season and all. Ho Ho Ho Karl. Want you to come. Now that you're home, you arse." Enough talk, and you deserve an equally sloppy kiss right back on your... well, I think that was an inch left of your eye. Bad aim, that.

Karl: "Silly old Dave." My heart swells with affection for him, but I ruthlessly suppress the urge to tell him. "Of course I'll come." And I lean on him, letting him guide me to the waiting cab. Wait . . . it's Gareth. I turn around, dragging Dave with me. "Bye, gorgeous!" And I blow him a kiss, ignoring Dave's cursing as I nearly overbalance both of us. Damn, it's good to be home.