Chapter Text
The sun was just coming up, edging its way over the treetops that surrounded the palatial Blake Estate, setting the cloudless, pale blue sky on fire with its orange glow. Rick stirred with a soft groan, stretching one arm over his head, arching his back before burrowing his face back into the mountain of goose down pillows.
His liddy eyes fluttered between half-open and closed, fighting to protect themselves against the bright morning light as he felt the bed dip beside him. He rolled over, stretching again, this time putting on a show for his boyfriend, his foot helping the stark white sateen sheet accidentally slip off of his bare hip. “You’re still here,” he rasped, his voice thick and dry with sleep.
“I’m on my way out,” Philip replied, keeping his back turned to him as he tied his shoes. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I’m glad you did.” Rick sat up, curling himself around the soft cotton of his pressed, nickel gray dress shirt, inhaling its fresh scent. “I hate waking up alone every morning.” He wound his arms around him, holding him tight around the waist, resting his cheek against his shoulder blade. “Can you stay? Just for a little while?”
“I wish I could,” Philip sighed, buffing a dull smudge on the toe of his shoe to a high-gloss shine. “But you know as well as I do that today is a very important day.”
A ghost of a smile flickered over Rick’s face, his blue eyes softening with sentimental tears. He remembered. “What makes today so special?” he asked, playing dumb, knowing damn well that today was his birthday. The big 3-0.
“I have the groundbreaking for my new high-rise in Savannah this afternoon. The jet is fueled and Milton is waiting for me at the airport.” He shrugged his shoulders and twisted his spine, trying to persuade Rick off of his back. “Can you not do that? You’re going to wrinkle my shirt.”
Rick slumped back down on his knees, his disappointed weight sinking into the mattress as he swallowed his hurt feelings, doing his best to rearrange his features into some sort of unfazed expression. It wasn’t working.
Laying back down, he rolled away and pulled the sheet back over his body. He thought for sure the two of them would have plans tonight. He promised. Promised this year would be different after forgetting his birthday for the last two years in a row. He swore it would never happen again.
“Sweetheart,” Philip slipped his jacket on and walked around the bed, sitting down beside him. “You know that I would stay here with you all day if I could, right?” He brushed a messy stock of dark hair out of Rick’s face, tilting his chin up to look at him. “But my name is going up on that building. I have to be there. They need me.”
“And I don’t?” Rick whispered, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice. “You’re never here anymore. I’m always asleep when you get home, and you’re gone when I wake up. It’s like you go out of your way to stay away from me. Fuck,” he cursed as he wiped his eyes, angry for letting himself get this upset. “We haven’t even… it’s been months since you’ve touched me.”
Philip stood up as the phone in his suit pocket rang. “Hello.” He leaned over the edge of the bed, offering Rick nothing more than a goodbye kiss on his wet, stubbled cheek. “I’m on my way,” he lied, waving over his shoulder as he walked out. “This traffic is a goddamn nightmare.”
As Rick lay there, listening to his footsteps echo lightly down the stairs, fading away, the sound of the front door closing and the security system rearming itself, his phone lit up on the nightstand.
I didn’t forget
Meet me at Polaris at 6pm
Happy Birthday, Rick
I love you
***
Dressed to kill in a black single-breasted suit and black silk tie, Rick gulped down the last drops of what was his third glass of red wine. Any smile that he’d walked into this restaurant with was long gone now as he checked his watch for the fifth time. Philip was over an hour late.
As he sat there watching all of the other couples and diners enjoying themselves in the rotating restaurant overlooking the Atlanta skyline, his phone lit up on the table. He closed his eyes, his heart sinking, forgetting how to beat as the unused silverware and dishes rattled with the vibrations. He didn’t need to open it to know what it said. It was always the same damn thing.
Can’t make it home this weekend. Something’s come up. I’ve got to stay and put some things in order. XOXO
Rick loved Philip, that much he was sure of. There wasn’t a moment that went by when he wasn’t on his mind. But he wanted things to be the way they used to be, back when the two of them first met. Sure, the money was great, he was set for life. But it meant nothing without someone there to share it with. He missed that warm body by his side every night. Seeing that face, the smile that used to greet him first thing every morning. He wanted to touch him, wanted to be touched by him again. But Philip, he was married to his business. Chasing his next million, well it was just more important.
After paying the bill for the wine, leaving a generous tip on the table for the waiter, Rick headed down the glass elevator and out to his car, the dread of going back to that big empty house alone already setting in. He reached into his pocket for his keys, finding nothing but an empty pocket. Frantically, he checked the other one, his hands diving in and out of every pocket on his jacket. Nothing. Shit. He bent down, peering through the tinted window of his locked door, his keys dangling from the ignition, mocking him as the street lights glinted off of the metal rings. A soft laugh crawled out of his throat. Stupid! he railed at himself, staring at his reflection in the mirrored glass. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
The minute he took his phone out to search for a locksmith, the bottom fell out of the bucket, rain hammering down on him as lightning split the nighttime sky in two, its bright flash outlining the rolling tower of black clouds moving in his direction. Not wanting to set foot back in that restaurant after being stood up again, he ran down the street, seeking shelter in the nearest bar.
He was soaked to the skin, his wet clothes dripping into the floor, puddles forming all around his feet. Giving the room a cursory glance, taking in the way everyone else was dressed, he looked down at his tailor-made designer suit and ducked into the men’s room before anyone noticed him.
His body shook, an endless train of shivers rippling through him as he slipped his wet jacket off, throwing it over one of the empty stall walls. Desperate to get warm, he slapped the button on the crooked hot-air hand dryer that was barely clinging to the wall, trying his best to not think about the swirling cyclone of bacteria currently blowing out into his face as he dried his shirt and hair.
After finger-combing his curls into something a little more presentable, he loosened the Windsor knot on his tie. One good yank and it slipped out of his collar with a quiet hiss. He studied himself in the mirror, unbuttoning the first three buttons on his shirt, exposing the strong column of his throat, a fine dusting of dark chest hair peeking out through the wide open plackets.
He could hear the rain pounding the ground outside, the thunder still rolling, rumbling loudly as the storm moved in closer. Dropping his gold cufflinks into his pants pocket, he rolled his shirtsleeves up to his elbows before heading back out to the crowded, smoke-filled lounge, hoping he wouldn’t be stuck here too long.
***
With a perspiring bottle of beer shifting back and forth between his idle hands, Rick kept himself entertained by watching the fine-tuned, flair bartender work his magic, juggling and spinning bottles, hurling them high into the air, catching them behind his back. He smiled, watching the man as he shook and tossed his shaker, skillfully pouring the bright blue concoction across three martini glasses in one motion, dropping a bright red cherry into each one without spilling a single drop.
Just as he geared up to watch him fill another order, a sexy rumble of laughter caught his attention, sending a shiver down his spine. Curious, he looked over his shoulder, glancing out over the room, his eyes landing on the congested table on the other side of the lounge. He studied the rowdy group in small flickers of attention, not wanting to make it obvious he was checking them out.
One of them—the one with the sexy laugh—looked up just as he did, their eyes snagging for the span of a breath. He was good looking—thick dark hair, a couple days’ worth of leaden stubble sprouting across his jaw, and a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips—he was very good looking. But he assumed the man knew this as the confidence he gave off practically saturated the air.
Offering him a quick, hey-how-ya-doing nod, Rick fixed his eyes on the wall behind him for a moment then turned back around in his seat, the weight of the man’s penetrating stare still burning a hole through him. With a silent, heavy sigh, he lifted the half-empty beer bottle to his lips, draining the rest of it in one big jaw-stretching swallow, plunking it down next the other empty one as he thought about ordering another, his thirst warring momentarily with what was left of his common sense.
As he sat there, wishing the rain would let up at least a little bit, he drummed his fingers against the polished wood of the bar counter, his lips moving along to the words of the song playing in the background.
“Hey there, stranger.”
Rick glanced up to the mirrored wall behind the bartender, watching the reflection curiously as a young brunette slid onto the empty barstool beside him, bringing with her a manipulative display of deep cleavage and round hips.
“Tell me,” she insisted, wrapping herself around his exposed forearm, leaning into him as if she’d known him her entire life. “What’s a nice guy like you doing in a dump like this? You don’t strike me as the type to fraternize with the knuckle-dragging ruffians that hang out around this place.”
Rick offered her a guarded smile and stiffened his back, all of his muscles tensing, an uneasiness lurking in his eyes as he looked around the room. “I was—” He sucked in a sharp breath as the woman reached out, resting her little-too-friendly hand on his left knee. “I was just looking for someplace to wait out the storm. What are you doing?”
“Seeing if you feel as good as you look.” Her hand slid further up his leg, her fingers curling, dancing along his inner thigh until she reached the swell of his crotch, fondling him through his dress pants. She leaned over, her bright red lips touching the outer curve of his ear, the smell of her let’s-have-sex perfume making his eyes water. “How about you and I go somewhere a little more private?”
Rick grabbed the woman’s wrist, pulling her hand away, the feel of her pulse swimming rapidly under his fingertips. “I’m sorry but I—”
Before he could decline, he was yanked off of his stool, an angry man with big biceps, bushy eyebrows and a Jack Sparrow beard holding him up by the front of his shirt.
“Is there a problem here?”
Rick turned his head to the gritty voice behind him, finding himself less than a foot away from the good looking guy he’d locked eyes with earlier.
“Nothing that concerns you .”
Mr. Good Looking let go of another one of those sexy rumbles as he placed his hands on his narrow hips, his eyes shifting back and forth between the irate man and Rick. “Oh, it concerns me, all fuckin' right. You see, I know exactly what kind of game you’re running here. You get your girlfriend here to flash her tits to the first guy you think has a buck or two in his pocket. Then you stroll in, half-cocked and ready to scrap with him for flirtin' with your girl. How’m I doing so far?” he smiled, bearing his pearly white teeth. “While you’re dealin' with him, she’s over here sliding the guy’s wallet into her bag. Isn’t that right, darlin’?” He reached into her purse, pulling Rick’s thick wallet out, waving it around in the air. “Do yourself a favor….” He tossed the wallet back on the bar. “Get the fuck outta here while the gettin's still good.”
With true anger flashing in the man’s eyes now, he growled and let Rick go with a shove, taking a wild swing that spun him around on his feet, his fist connecting with Rick’s nose instead of its intended target.
In a matter of seconds, the entire bar seemed to come unglued—fists flying, beer bottles and cocktail glasses shattering in the floor. Rick was frozen in place as the would-be scammer was escorted through the doors with a bloody face, his lady friend groveling over his body on the sidewalk where he lay half-conscious in the rain.
“You okay?” Mr. Good Looking asked, rushing back to the counter to check on Rick. He pressed lightly on the bony bridge of his nose, placing a finger on both sides, checking for any displacement of bone or cartilage. He tilted his head, looking up into his nostrils for any sign of bleeding. “Is this tender?”
“Nah,” Rick lied, sniffing through the pain of what felt like a six-inch nail that had been hammered into his sinuses. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
“Good,” he sighed, sinking his backside down onto the bar stool next to him, his elbows resting on the knees of his faded blue Carhartt work pants as he panted, trying to catch his breath.
Rick took a moment to look at the man, really looking at him. He was even better looking up close. Six-foot one, maybe two, heavy-hooded hazel eyes, and an easy going grin. But there was something underneath all that, something mysterious that gave him a bit of an edge.
They were sitting close, only a handful of inches between them. He smelled like leather, cigarettes and beer, an intoxicating blend of promise, comfort and danger that Rick couldn’t get enough of. He looked at him again, noticing a long, dark eyelash resting on the tender skin underneath his right eye. Without thinking, he reached out brush it away. But his fingers trailed the length of his face, lingering. He didn’t want to stop.
They stared into each other’s eyes, transfixed by something they couldn’t explain, unspoken words passing between them.
“You uh, you had an eyelash on your…” Rick smiled, touching his own lower eyelid with his thumb, holding the small curl up on the tip of his trembling finger. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Negan,” he answered, his tongue racing back and forth between his teeth as he smiled back.
“You should make a wish, Negan.” Rick held his hand up to his mouth, his warm breath ghosting over his fingers.
Negan closed his eyes and blew faintly over the offered fingertip. The eyelash was gone. “What’s your name?”
“Rick. Rick Grimes. What did you wish for?”
“I can’t fuckin' tell you that,” he laughed, giving him a teasing wink. “It might not come true.” He leaned in a little closer on his stool, his knee bumping Rick’s as he did. “Can I buy you a drink, Rick Grimes?”
Rick’s smile grew a little bit wider, his heart beating just a little bit faster. What are you doing? Tell him no, idiot. You’ve had too much to drink. Tell him you can’t. Tell him… It was just a little knee bump. A fine grain of physical contact that… that wasn’t really physical contact. Was it? He shifted on his bar stool, parting his knees enough to allow some space for those long legs of his.
Negan cocked his eyebrow and parted his legs, his knee right back against Rick’s.
Damn him.
“Yeah,” Rick whispered, his hand sliding down his thigh, inch by inch until his fingers brushed against the worn fabric of Negan’s pants. “You can buy me a drink.”
Negan looked at the label of the shattered bottles in the floor, ordering two more of the same from the bartender. “Guess what.”
Rick looked at him, the smile still beaming on his face. “What?”
“I got my wish.”