Who: Marc Belby and Zacharias Smith What:Flirting Snarking When: Weds., July 27, after work Where: Mickey's Pub, Muggle London (just outside Diagon) Rating: Medium Status: Complete
There was something to be said about Zach's (still) professing he wasn't bent—it kept the whole thing a challenge. And, at a time in Marc's life when he felt perpetually off balance, at least Smith was still the same. Smart arse, arrogant, whinging, not bent little prick.
Well, not little. Not hardly at all. In fact, Smith was a fit guy, and Marc had decidedly become fond of that smirk of his, and wiping it off his face entirely. Marc knew exactly what he could say to get that smirk in place, and what he could do to get Smith hot and bothered. Sitting at the bar of Leaky's, Marc felt confident Smith would show. Hell, it had been too long between their (completely fucked up) shags. It was bound to happen sooner or later, and Marc figured Smith was likely as off kilter and pent up with this new Ministry bullshit going around.
Nevermind that Marc was bloody fucking in the mood to reassert himself as a dominant force over Smith. Marc didn't like the idea of Zach being a fucking inside man for the Minister. That meant it was almost definitely the living, elder, way-on-up-in-years,-might-as-well-kick-it-already-Diggory that Smith had moaned for.
And Marc didn't like that. And that made him want to see Zach, and make sure he was alright, and distract him from thinking about a goddamn senior citizen and focus on fucking someone his own age, because Jesus Christ.
Marc took a sip of his beer and glanced down the bar towards the door, shoulders tensing in nervous apprehension after seeing Smith again since his little revelation.