Who: Finley Melville and David Ryan What: They “break up”, then they make up. (1/2) Where: Jamba Juice in central Los Angeles When: Saturday afternoon, February 20th 2016 Warnings: Some language & later some groping
It wasn’t exactly warm enough for smoothies, but the Jamba Juice was still crowded when Finley opened the door for the two of them. He could have chosen a far more appropriate venue, he supposed, but once he’d made up his mind about something he did hate to change it. He had plans, after all, plans that the Jamba Juice, and the smoothies within, served very well indeed. Plans that coffee really wouldn’t suit at all… yes, there were always frappes, but they didn’t exactly come in a wide array of bright colors, did they? No, Jamba Juice was the best choice, and he’d argued until he finally resorted to a far better way to get David to agree to do whatever it was that Finley wanted. His life had gotten much easier since he’d realized that petting David’s hair reduced the younger man to blissed out putty in his hands. Finley still wasn’t entirely certain that David realized exactly what he’d agreed to.
Too late for that. He’d agreed, and that was it. Finley could already see customers getting their phones out and snapping pictures of the two of them. A hazard of being connected with a celebrity (he hesitated to say ‘romantically’, there was nothing romantic about it, their arrangement was entirely about sex), you started to get used to the cell phone paparazzi after a while. This time, the two of them were counting on it. The plan wouldn’t go off at all without David’s loyal fans documenting every moment of their idol’s outing to get a smoothie with the man that neither of them had publicly confirmed he was dating. That was, unless you counted that brief but hilarious change of Facebook status that had come even before their first kiss. Finley didn’t plan on counting it, but now that he’d recalled it… it did make decent fodder for their purpose for the day.
You see, Finley and David were going to break up. Publicly. With as much drama as possible.
Oh, they weren’t really going to break up. You had to be in a real relationship with someone before you could really break up with them, now, didn’t you? He and David were just fucking, occasionally having sleepovers, texting each other daily… it wasn’t like they were a couple. They were… fuckbuddies. Friends with benefits, at the most, contrary to what he insisted to everyone that doubted the depth of their commitment. Finley had no plans to stop sleeping with David, or doing any of the rest of it, either. He simply thought it would be best for both of them if nobody suspected it was still going on, that was all.
Not that, at the moment, David knew exactly what was going on, either. Oh, they’d talked about staging a breakup, agreed that they really ought to at some point, but as for the specific timing… Finley didn’t trust David’s acting skills nearly enough to rely on them to convince the general public that they were really breaking up. It was really for the best if Finley was the only one who actually knew what was going on, that day.
He scanned the board as they waited at the end of the line. “I think I want a Strawberry Symphony smoothie. The twenty-four ounce.” What was the saying… go big or go home?
Of course David knew what he’d agreed to. … He just might have forgotten a little bit until they were actually outside of the Jamba Juice in question and David fully realized what was happening. It wasn’t like he didn’t know that Finley was manipulating him with the hair petting, it just always felt too good for David to care. Finley could keep right on doing that as long as he didn’t stop running his fingers through David’s hair right after he got his way. When it came to most things, David was a pretty simple guy. Especially, it seemed, when it came to anything physical. He almost couldn’t blame Finley for finding ways to use that against him.
He really had no idea why Finley was so insistent on getting smoothies. It seemed a little out of left field, but who knows, maybe that was just another thing he hadn’t known about the guy. Maybe Finley Melville just really loved smoothies. David didn’t understand it, but whatever. He was pretty sure he was getting sex out of this somehow, so he wasn’t going to complain. At least not too much. He did complain moderately about how crowded it was under his breath, mostly because as soon as they walked in people immediately started taking out their cell phones to snap some pictures of them. It wasn’t that David minded the fame, and he had already become pretty accustomed to it, but for whatever reason since this thing with Finley had caught on in the public eye, the ‘cell phone paparazzi’ had gotten a lot more aggressive whenever David went out. Especially when he was seen out with Finley. David vaguely remembered how intense it had been when he and Andy were a thing, but it had been awhile since he’d had to deal with that sort of thing. This was a whole other level of dealing with fans.
“A ‘Strawberry Symphony’?” David snorted, looking from a group of people at one of the tables gawking at them to fix his attention back on Finley. He was pretty sure he’d never actually stepped into a Jamba Juice before, let alone ever willingly drank a smoothie. It just wasn’t his thing, but of course it was Finley’s. Really, he wouldn’t be surprised if Crowley was a fan of the drink too. It was so appropriately them. “That sounds… fruity.”
Well, obviously. They were in a juice bar. Everything was fruity here. They were at the end of the line but it didn’t take them long to get to the front of it, and since David took Finley telling him what he wanted to mean that Finley wanted David to do the ordering, he tried to speak over the multiple blenders going in the room to the person on the other side of the counter. God, this place was noisy. “He’ll have a… Strawberry Symphony? Twenty-four ounce.” David squinted at the menu. “And, uh, I guess I’ll have that one with the bananas in it.” David liked banana flavored things. The Jamba Juice employee asked David if he wanted any energy boosts with that and David stared at her, obviously confused by the question. “... Huh?”
Fruity? Really, David. Finley wasn’t entirely certain that anyone who’d accepted an invitation to go get smoothies with another man really had room to talk about something being fruity. Utterly disregarding, of course, the fact that Finley had blatantly manipulated him to get him there in the first place. He didn’t say anything, just stared at David, expression making his feelings on the matter more than clearly enough without the use of words. Of course everything about the place was fruity, and while smoothies were generally a little too virtuously healthy (almost crunchy, even) for his tastes, they did have their benefits entirely outside of the craze for healthy, fruity beverages that made people feel slightly better about their life choices. Finley enjoyed them in the same way that he enjoyed sweet, girly cocktails, though they had far less of a chance of knocking him on his ass simply due to the content.
He couldn’t keep his mouth shut, though, when David placed his own order. “Bananas. Really. And it took you this long to figure out that you might like dick?” A little more direct than the two of them had ever been in public, before, about what it was that the two of them were doing together. There was a difference between being seen getting smoothies together, and Finley announcing David’s sexuality loud and clear in the middle of a Jamba Juice.
Oh, he knew David would likely get offended by it. It was no worse than anything Finley had done before they were actually fucking, of course, but the beauty of it was that no one actually knew how long the two of them really hadn’t been fucking. If they assumed that it had begun when Finley first posted that updated status that David asked him to take down, they’d been together quite a while. Long enough for Finley to begin getting frustrated, if David really was fighting to stay in the closet in spite of a picture of them kissing, and the fact that nearly everyone thought they knew what it was that the two of them did together. Frankly, Finley couldn’t care less whether David chose to announce his newfound love of cock to the world or not. So long as Finley kept getting to stick his in him on a regular basis, he really thought that things between the two of them were going well. Most men, though, particularly dedicated boyfriends, might be starting to mind.
David might actually get mad. That was entirely fine. Finley would make it up to him, later. He’d already demonstrated his persuasive techniques once that day, and he was fairly sure that no matter how angry David might actually get with him, he wasn’t going to turn it down if Finley jumped him afterward. By the end of it, he’d have forgotten what he’d even been angry about in the first place. It wasn’t overconfidence, Finley really was just that good. “Perhaps you’d better give him one, apparently he’s missing some vital brain cells.” Besides… he did want David to have plenty of energy for making up after this mostly fake fight was over.
It wasn't that David was ashamed, or embarrassed to admit that he might be something other than straight. There was nothing wrong with it, he wasn't a homophobe. It wasn't even an image thing he was concerned with, it's not like REDO had taken some kind of anti-gay stance, their lead singer was as out and proud as you could get. He was so out that he had gotten publicly married to his long time boyfriend not that long ago. It was sweet, the wedding had been a blast, but was David ready to go even half that far with another guy, and publicly? No, not really. The fact that he'd hooked up with Finley at Owen’s wedding didn’t mean anything except that he’d been about to text the man, a little buzzed on champagne and wanting to hook up, and Finley had apparently read his mind because he’d shown up unexpectedly before David had even been able to press ‘send’. They were just having fun. David wasn’t trying to put a label on it despite his confusion about what they were early on, but he couldn’t deny that Owen’s incessant questioning of what they were hadn’t bothered him.
The thing was, David wasn’t in the closet. Not really. He’d never been one of those self-aware kids who spent years purposefully hiding a part of himself because he felt ashamed, or was afraid of how the world would receive him. He still wasn’t even sure what he was, except for the fact that he suddenly really liked having sex with at least one man. David wasn’t totally clear on the rules here, or if there were any, but at the moment he wasn’t too keen on making some kind of public statement about his sexuality or even talking at length with his friends about this thing with Finley while David was still feeling it out. Besides, he didn't really like the idea of people talking about the intimate details of his and Finley's relationship, it made him a little uncomfortable. He'd never been a particularly private person or overly conservative about his sex life in general, but apparently at least when it came to this, David was weirdly bashful about it.
Why was it that when he was linked to a woman, nobody gave a shit if they were actually doing it, but the second he was linked to a guy it was all about the sordid details of his sex life and nothing else? Okay, yeah, it made David a little shy. He'd had plenty of people pry into his private life but this kind of prying felt like that really uncomfortable feeling of someone clearly undressing you with their eyes. David wasn't a huge fan of that level of public exposure, but that's what he got for being in the spotlight, apparently. People were nuts.
So, Finley's none too quiet comment about him liking dick provoked David's head to immediately snap up, eyes a little wide before narrowing as David got visibly pissed off but it was obvious he was still trying to keep his cool while they were out in public. Choosing not to respond to the first comment, David instead gave Finley a sidelong glance as he put some money down on the counter for the drinks, feeling defiant. “No boosts for me, I don't do drugs.” The Jamba Juice employee looked confused, obviously not knowing David well enough to know that he was serious, before taking the money and punching in their order while David muttered ‘dick’ under his breath in Finley's direction.
Ah, excellent. David wasn’t pleased with that comment at all, and Finley was experienced enough at picking at threads until they unraveled that it really was only a matter of time before he coaxed David into losing his temper entirely. He slid his credit card across the counter; David had ordered, so he supposed he could pay for it. You didn’t have to be a genius to be able to tell that the employee behind the counter was more than happy to scan it, hand it back, and shoo them off toward the section of the counter where they could pick it up so that the next customer could place their order. That customer, of course, was far more invested in gawking at Finley and David, not that Finley had a problem with it. The bigger their audience, the better, in this case, and the size of the audience that day truly was satisfying. Finley played best for a crowd, it was when the audience got a little more intimate that he started struggling with keeping the show going on.
“Yes, David, dick. Are you going to simply mimic me all day? It’s going to make the conversation dreadfully boring.” Finley had fallen into the patterns of Crowley’s accent, again. He tended to drift in and out of it, with David, now, more ‘in’ when the two of them were in public, ‘out’ in their private moments. It was rather difficult to maintain an accent that wasn’t your own in the midst of fucking someone’s brains out, after all, not that Finley didn’t think he was up to the challenge. He was fairly certain that David would prefer he not, at least, since he knew for a fact that it was fake. This time, Finley was using the accent on purpose, knowing full well that being reminded of the elaborate deception that Finley had pulled on them for months on end was still a sore spot for David, one that the two of them had never fully discussed. They’d always gotten distracted by sex, and neither of them was exactly the type to have a cup of tea and talk about their feelings.
Finley arched an eyebrow at him. “Or would you rather we kept quiet about that? Are we just very good friends, when we’re out in public, now? Sorry I missed the bloody memo, but I believe you missed the fact that everyone already knows.” Or, at the very least, they all thought they knew. No one was privy to all the details except Finley and David, and contrary to the show that he was putting on, Finley would far rather it stayed that way. That was, after all, the entire purpose of this little charade, wasn’t it? Convincing them all that anything they thought was going on between David and Finley was over, so the two of them could get down to the serious business of doing things that really weren’t meant for public consumption.
Spreading his arms out to gesture at the entire crowd of people in the Jamba Juice, Finley informed David, “No one cares if you’re fucking me.” He was very careful not to assign roles; he was kind enough to not spread it about that David really enjoyed having demon cock up his ass, which he certainly wouldn’t have spared the younger man if he’d truly been angry enough to break up their arrangement in a public venue. He was counting on David not realizing that about him, or at least not coming to the conclusion until they already had everyone convinced. “Look at me, David, who doesn’t want to fuck this?” Absolute truth, not that Finley really needed to brag about it. That sort of thing really did go without saying, most of the time.
It was annoying enough that Finley was acting like this in a crowded place, but David was somehow even more irrationally annoyed when he pulled out his credit card. As if that small, admittedly insignificant show of defiance on David’s part at refusing the ‘energy boost’ after Finley pointedly suggested it was somehow completely undone by Finley, once again, taking control of the situation. Not something David usually got immediately pissed about, after all that would literally mean he was getting angry at Finley every second of the time they spent together, because having control over a situation was just what Finley did. David didn’t always mind, especially in their more intimate moments, because there was a very clear advantage to be had for David in a situation like that, but this wasn’t one of them, and if there was one thing he and Dean both hated it was feeling like you’re being controlled. Angels, demons, gods, a mark on your arm, it didn’t matter, it pushed their buttons in a bad, very immediate way.
The reappearance of Finley’s fake British accent didn’t help matters any. It wasn’t always an immediate trigger for him, but considering he was already pissed, it didn’t exactly help put out the fires. It just reminded David why he would be in the right to always be angry with Finley, why he had at least one good reason not to trust the man, but he was so busy being completely caught up in this thing with Finley that lately David seemed to lose all sense around him. That particular subject had never even been fully resolved, as the day Finley’s secret had been discovered David had yelled at him, kissed him, and then ran out of his apartment. The next time they saw each other was when they’d started sleeping together, and things had been pretty confusing ever since. There hadn’t been many chances to talk about it outside of their various escapades, and it didn’t help that neither of them were the type to ‘talk things out’, period.
“Have you completely lost your mind?” David was back to staring at Finley with wide eyes, genuinely shocked and a little wary at the sudden display of antics. Even for Finley, this was a little dramatic, and completely out of left field. Since when did he care that David wasn’t ‘out’ to everyone about himself or him and Finley? He sounded like… well, like somebody who actually cared that David wasn’t publicly acknowledging their situation, but David knew Finley better than that. Or at least he thought he did. There was no way he was actually upset about that, right?
David was so completely caught off guard that he couldn’t immediately think of an even halfway decent retort. He just stared blankly at Finley, mouth hanging a little open until he finally shut it angrily and stalked over to the end of the counter where orders came out and crossed his arms, visibly seething while silently resenting Finley for putting him on the spot like this. What was his problem anyway? Finley had been the one who wanted to come here. David tried hard to ignore all the people who were no doubt watching this situation unfold, considering how quietly Finley wasn’t speaking, still trying to navigate the conversation like a minefield and avoid all the instances where Finley was actually bringing up them fucking. “Nice accent, by the way.”
Of all times for David to choose to take the (comparatively) high road in one of their little spats, this was the worst possible. Finley didn’t have to fake the dramatic roll of his eyes that accompanied his aggrieved sigh. Apparently, David couldn’t even be trusted to argue correctly. Finley almost regretted not plotting the fight out with him ahead of time, if this was going to be the result of being spontaneous (as far as David was concerned) about it. Almost, but not enough to back off for the moment and try again once he’d had time to coach David on how to properly execute a dramatic public breakup. If David wasn’t going to take his cues and fight back, Finley was simply going to have to push the fight further himself, using whatever means were necessary. David would forgive him later, so long as there was a sufficient amount of sex involved, going by Finley’s experience.
“You didn’t just walk away from me while I was talking to you.” Clearly David had, but Finley was playing up every bit of the flaming, swishy queen that he could. The fact that it came so easily to him was clearly only a result of the fact that he was a remarkable actor, not the fact that it was some sort of inherent tendency. Fine, Finley would admit that he could tend to be a bit dramatic, but that didn’t mean that he was that much of a stereotype. The act served its purpose, for the moment, at least, of drawing even more attention to their little spat. “Does the fact that I dislike feeling as though you’re ashamed of me somehow make me crazy?” Not that Finley minded being the crazy one, in this particular public breakup. There was always a crazy one, wasn’t there? A public spectacle of a breakup required a certain amount of insanity, and also an equal or even greater amount of trashiness… something else that Finley didn’t mind being, for the sake of a good display. Besides, even if he was the crazy one, David was still going to be the one that came out looking all the worse in this matter, particularly if he wasn’t going to come back at Finley with equally damning barbs. Already Finley could see the phones coming out, hear the whispers about ‘that poor man’. Whether they were referring to him or David he didn’t know, but this really was shaping up entirely according to plan.
Finley followed him over to the counter to wait for their drinks, arms crossed over his chest defensively. “You didn’t even invite me to your friend’s bloody wedding. Did it even occur to you to ask me if I wanted to go?” Not that Finley hadn’t invited himself, at least to the reception where he could take advantage of the happy puppy that David turned into after a suitable amount of drinks. It wasn’t an experience that Finley planned to miss out on, if he had the choice; fucking an intoxicated David was an entirely unique experience, one that was strangely addictive. Still… there was a bit of truth to it. David hadn’t thought to invite him to go alongside him, in spite of the fact that everyone had already thought that they were dating. Finley wasn’t actually upset about that; after all, they weren’t really a couple.
For the sake of this breakup, though, he was absolutely outraged. As well he should have been, if they’d been the couple that gossip tried to paint them as. After all, everyone knew that one of the best reasons to go to a wedding stag was to pick up the drunk women mourning that it wasn’t them walking down the aisle, searching desperately for any sort of attention that could, in their entirely illogical brand of thinking, lead to a ring. A boyfriend would be entirely justified in worrying about why, exactly, he hadn’t been invited.
It wasn't the first time he'd fought with Finley, but usually he actually saw them coming. David was often even the one who typically got mad first because Finley was being a dick about something again. Make no mistake, Finley was a jerk, David knew that no matter how unnecessarily angry he got with him over something stupid, but this? This was weird. Not that he thought Finley didn't have some feelings somewhere maybe but he didn't really seem like the type to get butthurt over… David wasn't even sure what Finley was mad about, but David turned around at the counter, eyes wide and looking a little flustered as Finley berated him for walking away before his cheeks turned a little pink and David looked instantly angrier.
“Trust me, that's not what's making you crazy,” David replied defensively, a little more on edge now that they were officially making a very public scene in this place that Finley obviously wasn't letting him get out of. Ashamed of him? David wasn't, but he didn't understand why Finley cared. That just didn't seem like Finley, to care about something like that, no matter how big the man's ego was. What the hell was his problem anyway? Had something in his brain just suddenly decided to snap? That was the only explanation, because David had never seen Finley throw such a public hissy fit over nothing. Caused a scene, maybe, but never at the expense of himself. This felt like… well it felt like a couple’s fight, but they weren’t one, so he was at a loss.
David was very aware of how many people were staring now, it would be impossible to miss the two of them and what was going on no matter how crowded the place was. For someone who didn't mind the spotlight, often even thriving on it, David was less a fan of everyone's eyes being on him than he ever had been. He'd never been the type to get in dramatic, public fights with people he was ‘seeing’ so David was speechless at first. The wedding? Was Finley honestly pissed about that? It's not like they were… anything. Why the hell would Finley care about getting an invite? He'd still shown up anyway, but it wasn't to come to the wedding. He'd crashed the reception. Why was he suddenly acting like a jealous boyfriend? Didn't seem like Finley's style, but they hadn't been sleeping together before.
Looking Finley over warily, he could feel himself starting to respond to the other man’s anger more no matter how much he tried to keep his cool. It wasn’t hard to get a rise out of David, especially if you were Finley. He seemed to be able to get a rise out of him better than anyone else ever could manage. “No, it didn’t,” he responded, voice slightly raised despite his efforts to keep it steady. He gritted his teeth and glared at Finley, trying to ignore the onlookers with their phones out around them. So much for keeping himself from going viral again. “Why the hell would it occur to me to do that? Why do you suddenly care?” David bit his tongue before he added that Finley hadn’t seemed to care all that much when they’d been fucking at the reception.
Now that was far more like it. The way that David’s cheeks flushed in anger was almost as intriguing as the way they flushed with arousal, reminding Finley of that first time the two of them had hooked up after arguing in David’s dressing room. It was a fond memory, perhaps more than it deserved, but Finley refused to feel bad about that. It had been a very hot encounter, and they had both had an excellent time. If it had begun with an argument, at least they’d brought it to a far more satisfactory conclusion. Had this spat occurred in a more private setting, there was absolutely no doubt in Finley’s mind that it would have ended in almost exactly the same way. It still would, they’d just have to wait until Finley pulled him aside and clued him in on exactly what it was they’d done.
There was, however, a misconception that Finley simply had to correct, though he made sure to sound far more aggrieved about it than he actually was. “I love weddings.” Had David asked, Finley likely would have tagged along, regardless of the fact that they really weren’t in any sort of arrangement that included Finley being his date for formal affairs. “Do you have any idea how many desperate people there are at weddings? Someone in love with the groom or…” Well, in this case… “Other groom, all the single women bitter over the realization that their best years are passing by and they’re still painfully, pathetically alone, all of them willing to make a deal to get their own white wedding and happy for the next ten years, it’s prime pickings for a demon in my business, David.” Not likely to convince David that he actually should have invited Finley, but crashing weddings was typically very good for business.
“But I wouldn’t have even done business there, if you hadn’t wanted me to.” That was entirely a lie. If Finley had spent more time at the wedding that didn’t involve fucking David barely out of sight of the rest of the wedding party, he would have made a deal. The only thing better than that was, fortunately for everyone at the reception, burying his cock in David’s ass. “I’d have at least liked to have been asked, David. It would have been the considerate thing to do. I shouldn’t be surprised though, should I? When have you ever been considerate about my feelings.” That, that was painful. Talking about ‘feelings’ was something that Finley avoided at all costs. He’d far rather keep up the polite pretense that he had none at all.
Since he’d happened to remember it, earlier, Finley decided, spur of the moment, that he might as well use it. “After all, you wouldn’t even make it official on Facebook, would you? You’re still listed as single, David.” Or, Finley assumed so, at least. He was certain that every fan in there was immediately going to check David’s Facebook page, but he was reasonably confident that after deleting their ‘it’s complicated’ status, David hadn’t posted any sort of update to his relationship status at all. “Any time we go out, it’s my idea, and it’s because I’ve backed you into it and you have no excuse not to.” Or, more likely, because Finley had blackmailed him. It was very nearly the same thing. “Admit it! You don’t want anyone to know we’re together, you’d rather just sneak around like I’m some sort of dirty secret.”
Even for Finley, this was over the top. That was the first thing that made David wake up to this a bit more, and start to get a little suspicious. Not that he didn’t still believe some of what Finley was saying, he could picture Finley very easily going around the wedding making deals with desperate people, because he was that much of a dick. But what did David expect? He was still a demon, and he was still Crowley. Crowley was both a demon and a huge dick. Didn’t stop David from staring at Finley incredulously for a few seconds with his mouth hanging open slightly, too shocked to remember to close it at first. Was this actually happening? There’s no way this was actually happening. David almost pinched himself before he remembered that normal people don’t do that, just talk about it. Not that he was anywhere approaching normal. This entire situation was about as far away from normal as you could get.
Still, despite the truth behind Finley’s ridiculous proclamations about why he loved weddings, David was starting to get the funny feeling that something very specific was happening here that Finley had decided not to clue him in on. Mostly it was the sudden mention of his ‘feelings’ and how David didn't consider them that made David finally realize what was most likely going on. They'd talked about it before, staging a fake break up so people would get out of their business. At least he was pretty sure that's what was happening. Of course, the first time they'd talked about it David had been drunk, but they'd talked about it since. He'd just assumed he'd know that it was happening when it did. Apparently that wasn't the case when dealing with Finley.
“Your what?” He laughed without meaning to, the sound involuntarily erupting from his throat. It wasn’t a cruel laugh, more nervous than anything else, because even if it was staged, this entire situation was so ridiculous that he couldn’t think of what else to do. That, more than anything, was what made David think this was all a show. He might not know everything about Finley, but he knew him well enough to know that for Finley to admit openly and publicly to any ‘feelings’ he might have, he had to be up to something that took priority over even his pride. That was the only way David could see Finley picking a fight in public over a Facebook status.
Figuring out what Finley was doing probably should have made David relax a little, but it actually just pissed him off more. He didn’t like being used, at least not without his express permission. It left him feeling cheap, and David didn’t really like being in the dark about something that directly involved him. It made him resent Finley a little, that the other man was obviously comfortable enough to yank him around like that, so instead of calming down, David just got mad. If Finley wanted him to play along, he’d play along. He was angry enough that he could even make it sound convincing, he might not actually mean it, but he still raised his voice like he did. “Oh yeah? Have you even heard of a bed? Maybe if you stopped acting like a groupie, I’d start feeling like I’m not just being used. I’m a person too, not just some celebrity you can brag to all your friends about. Nobody changes their Facebook status for a cheap hook up.”
At first, Finley was shocked speechless. Literally, actually. His eyes widened, his jaw dropped, and he gaped at David for all of a few seconds. A cheap hook up? Yes, they were hooking up, and no, they rarely actually made their way to a bed during said hook ups, but Finley was not a ‘cheap hook up’, and he did not act like a groupie. Frankly, he didn’t give a rat’s ass whether David was a celebrity or not. If he wasn’t a rock star, it would make their lives far easier. It would make David far more discreet, when it came to being a hunter; far fewer people would recognize him on sight, it would be far more difficult to know where he was at any given time if the answer wasn’t ‘at the studio’ or ‘giving a show at this venue’. Finley hadn’t slept with David because he was ‘David Ryan, rock star’, he’d slept with him because he was incredibly hot, and also a bit because he was ‘David Ryan, reincarnate of Dean Winchester’. Maybe David wouldn’t find that any more acceptable, but it was a difference. He wasn’t a groupie. He didn’t sleep with David to brag about fucking a celebrity to his friends in the least. He might have told Jace about his brilliant hook up, the first time they’d had drinks after he and David had started fucking, but he hadn’t mentioned the celebrity thing at all. It wasn’t his fault that the gossip blog had gone and made it apparent who he was talking about when he said that he’d hooked up with a particularly hot piece of ass. Except that he’d taken the picture, so in a way it was, but it wasn’t his fault his phone had gotten hacked.
...besides, he’d thought that David enjoyed when they hooked up in semi-public places. And they’d fucked in a bed in Finley’s apartment before.
It dawned on him, slowly, that David had figured out the game at last. He couldn’t prove it, of course, but if that was the case, that last barb had been incredibly well done. Finley was impressed, actually. He far preferred that option, actually, as he’d really have to stop hooking up with David if he’d meant it. It made him… uncomfortable about himself, thinking that David meant it. Uncomfortable in a way that was typically reserved only for arguing with his brother, something he did not want to associate with David in the least.
The realization that David had likely caught on wasn’t quite enough to pull himself back together after that unexpected volley, but the timid “Um, your drinks are ready…” from the girl behind the counter was. She slid them both, Finley’s excessively pink concoction and David’s far tamer yellow one, toward them and then backed off, quickly as she could. Not that Finley didn’t blame her. They really were putting on quite the display, even better than he’d anticipated now that David had joined in the bout in earnest. He’d already planned on his next move, of course, but he’d thought it would come later on in the argument, as finishing move to an extended bout. It was, however, the only possible response to that particular knife that David had dug into him.
Finley seized his own smoothie and popped the lid off neatly. “You’re not a person, you’re a bloody arsehole.” The last two words, yelled nearly as loud as Finley could manage, ought to have been enough to catch the attention of anyone left who was somehow managing to ignore the couple fighting in the middle of Jamba Juice. Perfect timing, really, because Finley slung the contents of the plastic cup at David’s face. That close, he couldn’t possibly have missed; David was bathed in almost violently pink slush, clumping in his hair and sliding down his face. The gasps and shocked murmuring in the wake of it gave Finley time to sort through his responses to find something that wasn’t personally damning.
“It’s not as though you ever invited me home with you, was it?” That, of course, was because David was staying in the bunker with his sister now, and Finley wouldn’t have wanted to hook up there even if David had extended the offer. “If I’m a cheap hook up, it’s because you made me one. I thought there was really something between us.”
For those first few seconds when all Finley did was stare at him open mouthed, David stared back, silently panicking that he’d somehow made a mistake. That maybe he’d been wrong, and this wasn’t an act, as insane an idea as that still seemed. He knew that what he had said was kind of below the belt, but a) he hadn’t meant it, and b) he hadn’t expected it to leave Finley speechless like that. Was it even possible that David had actually somehow accidentally hurt his feelings? Didn’t seem likely, but crazier things had happened. He hadn’t been serious about it, David thought that should be pretty obvious, but maybe it wasn’t. It wasn’t like they never used a bed, but David wouldn’t necessarily care if they didn’t. The whole point of public sex was in the spontaneity of it, and yeah, that was part of the appeal. But David didn’t think what they were doing, or Finley, was cheap. It didn’t matter how much of a dick Finley could be, a white hot flash of guilt shot through him anyway before David could recover from the shock of it.
By now David had completely forgotten why they were even here, maybe even where they were at all. Smoothies were the last thing on his mind, so when the girl behind the counter spoke to them and shoved two drinks in their direction, at first all David did was blink at her, still looking mildly furious as she shrank away, but he didn’t reach for his. The last thing David wanted right now was a smoothie. Come to think of it, he hadn’t even wanted a smoothie in the first place. Finley had basically conned him into coming here, just to make a huge dramatic scene in front of people that he wasn’t going to clue David in on beforehand. He was annoyed about that, but David was also feeling a little self conscious that he’d maybe already taken it a step too far.
… And then Finley was yelling at him again, which made David think that they were both on the same page now, but he was right back to being pissed. It was a vicious cycle.
He didn’t see the move with the smoothie coming. Mostly because in their conversations about staging a public break-up, they’d never talked about anyone throwing a drink in anyone’s face, so why should he have expected something like that? Probably because it was still Finley he was dealing with, and there was no way he’d ever play fair in anything. David honestly shouldn’t have been surprised, and yet, it was still a little shocking to suddenly find himself covered in pink smoothie. It happened so fast that he didn’t have time to react, to duck or put up his hands to block the majority of the onslaught, so he just took it, right in the face. He was at least able to close his eyes in time so that he wasn’t suddenly blinded, but the smoothie went everywhere. All over his face, in his hair, on his neck, his clothes… Shit that was cold. For a guy that wasn’t the biggest fan of smoothies, having one in his face definitely wasn’t ideal.
For a moment that seemed to suspend in the air forever, David was silent, eyes still closed for a few more seconds before they opened again, now glaring openly at Finley. Staged or not staged, any guilt he’d been previously feeling was gone, replaced by a lot of resentment mixed in with a sudden desire to shower. The smoothie on his skin was cold, but pretty soon it was going to be sticky too. That sucked. But David knew exactly who to blame, and when Finley started yelling again, David immediately fired back, wiping some of the smoothie from around his eyes. “Something between us?” David scoffed, fully committed to his role now as he raised his voice along with Finley to make sure everyone heard him too. “You’re a demon. I’d have to be an idiot to actually trust you. There could never be ‘something between us’.”
Perverse it may have been, but seeing David with pink slush dripping down his face completely erased the dregs of that strange, uncomfortable feeling. Not that Finley was bothered by it; perverse was something that he excelled at, and David really had earned a drink to the face. He didn’t think that anyone in the room but the most dedicated of fangirls would blame him for it, after words that entirely cemented Finley’s dramatic assertion that David was ashamed of him. Finley didn’t mind being the bad guy in the least, but it was refreshing for someone else to be neatly backed into the role for once. Demon he might have been, but calling someone who was professing feelings nothing more than a groupie and a cheap hook up was going to make you the least sympathetic individual in the argument, regardless of most outside circumstances. It didn’t hurt, of course, that Finley was good looking. Unfair it might have been, but people without a pretty face had to work a lot harder to garner sympathy over someone attractive. The celebrity factor, of course, might throw a wrench in the whole thing, but Finley was willing to play the odds.
“I can’t help but be what I am, David. It’s not as though I asked to be a demon.” ...Finley would have, had he been aware that it was an option before he found himself host to Crowley, but technically? He was telling the truth. Reincarnation, and being a demon, wasn’t anything he’d asked for. He’d just welcomed it gleefully when it happened.
If Finley wanted to, he could have dragged the argument on while David stood there, covered in smoothie and getting angrier by the second. It might have been entertaining, actually, and it wasn’t as though he couldn’t think of a million lines of argument about how being a demon didn’t meant he couldn’t have feelings, about how he thought David had cared for him in spite of it. About how now, he thought that perhaps David had only hooked up with him because he was the hunter’s equivalent of that bad girl your mother warned you about. Of course, bringing up David’s mother would be the sort of barb that David wouldn’t forgive, even if it was done only in passing, and Finley was really counting on some angry apology sex after this was all over. As soon as possible, after it was all over, actually. It wouldn’t take long to go from fighting to fucking, for them.
No, best to allow the thing to come to a natural end, before either of them said something more that they wouldn’t be able to take back, something that struck a little too close to the bone. Not that Finley would be injured by it, of course. Regardless of his protests to David, he regarded feelings as something useless that he’d pushed aside, sublimated to the point where he doubted he’d recognize one if it bit him in the ass. That was good. It was the way that it ought to be, if he was going to succeed in his business. David, though, could be rather touchy, something that Finley typically garnered a great deal of enjoyment from. It would be entirely too easy for Finley, used to going for the throat in business deals, to ruin his chances at makeup sex.
Instead, he gathered himself, put on his best mask of ‘hurt, but holding it together for the sake of pride’, and told David. “I can’t believe I wasted so much time on you. Do you really think I do these things for just anyone? Only you, David, and now you’ve gone and thrown it away.”
David wasn’t the greatest actor in the world, and he tended to wear his emotions on his sleeve. Something that Finley had actually lectured him about before, regarding David’s hot headed temper and letting potentially dangerous people get the better of him. He knew it wasn’t smart, but the thing about David, and Dean, was they didn’t always do the smart thing when they got worked up, and David was even easier to wind up. Especially if you were Finley. So while David wasn’t a great actor, his current exasperation directed towards the other man was one hundred percent genuine. He was covered in smoothie, thanks to Finley, a part of every fake public break-up scenario that they’d definitely never rehearsed. Also, thanks to Finley, David was currently still standing there in the middle of a Jamba Juice being gawked at by people, some of whom had their cell phones in the air obviously taking pictures or recording videos, when all he really wanted to do was leave and find the nearest shower. His annoyance was real.
It was ironic, really. David hadn’t meant it, but it was absolutely true that he’d probably be stupid to actually trust him. Finley was a demon, and not just any demon, he was Crowley. David had a million and one reasons to keep his distance, but he wasn’t. He hadn’t been keeping his distance for a long time when it came to Finley, and any other person in their right mind probably wouldn’t have let the man get that close, but David? David was, admittedly, that stupid. Even more so because he hadn’t meant what he said. The fact that Finley was a demon, and Crowley, had never bothered David enough to make him stay away, It should have, which is why what he’d said was more believable, but between Dean’s weird relationship with Crowley and David’s raw attraction to Finley, he’d never really stood a chance. Who would, in his position?
He was starting to become a little more aware of everyone’s eyes on them again, in the midst of his anger, making it hard for David to concentrate with the cold, slushy liquid still coating a good portion of his upper body. He wanted badly for this to be over so he could do something about the state of himself, as annoyed as he was that Finley had manipulated this entire situation to make him out to be the bad guy before adding insult to injury by throwing a bright pink smoothie in his face. He couldn’t actually be all that surprised, and his desire to clean himself outweighed any lingering pride that might have kept him there longer to argue for the sake of arguing. Something he and Finley were minor pro’s in on any given day, but not this time. Smoothie bits were starting to feel sticky on his skin, and people were still gaping at them, so David lashed out as dramatically and irrationally as he could. “IF I’M SUCH A WASTE OF TIME THEN DON’T BOTHER ANYMORE! Don’t do me any favors. Just leave. You’re good at that.”
Despite shouting at Finley to leave, David was the one who finally threw up his hands and turned around to stalk out of the room in the direction that the bathrooms seemed to be. Any other time he would have tried to get the last word, even if he hardly ever succeeded, but the fruit based mush on him demanded his attention more. The glare he shot Finley before he turned around should at least let the guy know he was still pissed, not making eye contact with anyone else as he found his way to the bathroom. Once he was in there he locked the door and immediately stripped off his smoothie covered shirt, before moving over to the sink and turning on the water. Wetting his hands, he started running them through the sticky parts of his hair, still seething, a good portion of the sickeningly pink slush already a melted mess on his face.
Finley had no doubt that David was angry with him. A smoothie in the face hadn’t precisely been the sort of surprise that Finley would have enjoyed, either; even less so, because he spent far more time on, and put far more effort into, taming his hair on a daily basis. Smoothie would have been horrible for it, soggy wasn’t an attractive look, on him. On David… admittedly, it was still ridiculous, but not quite as awful as it would have been if Finley had been the one to end up baptized in it. He’d explain it to David, later, though he doubted it would do him any good. David simply wouldn’t understand why someone had to have ended up with a drink thrown in his face. It ruined the entire point, if they didn’t bring their environment into play when it came to the scene at hand. Besides, their last public fight had resulted in Finley spilling coffee onto his own hand, and that had been painful on top of being a waste of coffee. A little indignity was a small price to pay, next to scalding hot coffee, and it was David’s turn.
The show wasn’t over yet, though. David might have stormed off into the bathroom, but Finley was still in the public eye, and the performance had to be maintained. He took a deep breath, pretended to compose himself. He hadn’t lost his composure, of course, not to the extent that would require regaining it, but seeing the obvious motions of someone setting themselves back to order, a sharp breath, a squaring of his shoulders, it would be easy for a viewer to convince themselves that he was more distraught than he actually was. Then, the finishing touch on the performance… to erase doubts that it was a performance at all. He turned, pretended to have only just seen someone with a cell phone out, recording the fight. “Turn that bloody thing off.” He looked around at the room at large, snarled, “Fuck off, all of you!”
No one who was putting on some sort of show would discourage their filming, after all. It might not convince everyone that what they’d seen was genuine, but it ought to help. Finley stormed out, as well, headed not for the bathroom where David was hiding out, but to the door to the street outside. It opened with a cheerful jangle, and he slammed it behind himself as best he could, given the fact that it closed on its own. It really did ruin a good dramatic exit, but Finley made the best of it, anyway. Then, just in case anyone was watching, he stormed further down the street before he teleported, simply blinking out of existence. The people around him were likely shocked, probably recoiled, but Finley wasn’t there to see it, of course.
Finley was in the men’s room at the Jamba Juice.
Oh, they’d assume he’d gone elsewhere, he imagined. That was the plan, anyhow. No one ought to make any assumption that he’d gone to David, after the enormous fight that they’d just had. There was no guarantee that David would tolerate his presence there, actually, but Finley was hopeful. It wasn’t as though David would avoid him for all that long. He couldn’t. Why would he want to? He’d be depriving himself of sex with Finley, if he did that, which was clearly superior to any other sort of sex he would be having, at the moment. He watched, momentarily, as David wiped smoothie out of his hair, before clearing his throat. “That went well, I think”
David was so caught up in his fuming and getting rid of the smoothie in his hair that he didn’t immediately notice when Finley appeared in the bathroom with him, though he probably should have expected it. Normally, and especially lately, he would have been something verging on glad to see the man materializing out of nowhere behind him, but not right now. Not in this precise moment, when he was still working on separating his real anger from the fake one that he’d put on for their audience outside. He wasn’t pissed because of anything Finley had said in particular, that would be ridiculous, considering Finley had been putting on the whole show by himself, more or less. Nothing he’d said had been in the least bit genuine, or else David would have maybe suggested the man get his head checked. No, that wasn’t why he was currently fuming.
He was pissed that Finley had thrown him blindly into this situation, forcing him to flail and scramble to get his footing without precisely knowing what was happening until already halfway through the staged fight that sometimes felt like a real one. Not because what they were saying to each other had any actual merit, but because David was angry with him, if for very different reasons. He probably shouldn’t be at all surprised that Finley would pull something like that, and he wasn’t, really. David wasn’t completely oblivious, he still knew how manipulative the man could be, even and especially in regards to himself.
Glancing up at Finley’s reflection in the mirror, David responded flatly, “You’re a dick.” Also something David already knew about him, but that didn’t make him any less pissed in the moment. Of course it had gone well, they’d gotten in a huge public fight and Finley had thrown a bright pink smoothie in his face. Who wouldn’t believe that they’d really broken up, at this point? Just because they’d been planning it before Finley decided to spring it on David without letting him know ahead of time that it was happening today, didn’t mean he couldn’t still be a little sore about it. He was the one covered in smoothie, David was pretty sure he’d earned that right.
Stopping the self-cleaning process momentarily to turn around and face Finley, David crossed his arms over his chest and looked as put out as he possibly could. He wasn't immediately prepared to forgive Finley yet, after all. Maybe with some coaxing, since this still hadn't technically been a real fight, but David wasn't prepared to back down just yet. “Was the smoothie thing really necessary?”
“I’m afraid it was.” Finley managed to hold back his smile at the sight of the smoothie still dripping from David’s hair, but only barely. It seemed like a good sign, that David hadn’t immediately ordered him out of the room. He didn’t seem thrilled by Finley’s presence, by any means, but that really was only to be expected. He had been a dick, David wasn’t wrong about that. He could make excuses, but why? The truth of the matter was that he had absolutely no regrets about having sprung the fight on David, not even faced with the possibility of being denied sex over it. It was entirely worth the sacrifice, or at least it would be. No one would think that he gave a rat’s ass about David, now, and if they could arrange to not be seen partnering together for David’s hunts for a bit, all the better.
The point of the entire matter was that there wasn’t a single person in that room just beyond the door that would ever think that David and Finley were still any sort of item, even in terms of casual sex… which was all that they were doing, in addition to being business partners and sometimes friends. They would avoid being seen together for a bit, and then the whole thing would be over. They could go about their business. No one would genuinely think that they could hurt one of them by hurting the other, which was rather important when you had as many enemies as Finley and the Ryans did, just by virtue of who they happened to be.
Of course, he didn’t want David to stay angry at him any longer than he had to be. “Come now, darling, you know I’ll make it up to you, don’t you?” Finley’s tone promised far more than his words did, all sorts of things that David likely had no clue about, because Finley hadn’t taught them to him yet. There were still plenty of things for David to learn from him, enough that it really would be a shame if they’d had to cut their lessons short because David was too angry at Finley to continue fucking. He’d hate for all that potential to just go to waste over something like that.
Finley was taking a risk, of course, stepping closer into David’s space. He risked being pushed; it wasn’t exactly a novel concept, for Dean and Crowley, the hunter pushing the demon away, or even pushing him to the floor. At least there was no one there to witness it, if that was the path that David chose. Somehow, Finley didn’t think it would be, even as angry as he was. He leaned in, lapped at a trail of smoothie trickling down David’s cheek. Finley really did enjoy the flavor of it, though the color had been the real draw. It was still cold against his tongue, the contrast of David’s warm skin beneath intriguing. He leaned in even further still, and breathed into David’s ear, “I’ll let you mess up my hair.”
Well of course Finley would say it was necessary, he wasn't the one who had ended up covered in smoothie. Considering how much time and energy the older man put into his hair alone, David didn't think Finley would be saying that at all if he'd been the one to end up with a smoothie to the face, and that was almost enough to make David wish he'd thought to take his smoothie with him when he stormed out of the room. Finley would probably be even more pissed than he was right now, considering how much the guy didn't like his hair being messed with. In David’s most vindictive moment, he thought that it might be worth it. Even with the benefits that usually came with it these days, being at the mercy of Finley Melville’s whims could get a little tiring. And, in this case, supremely uncomfortable. The melted smoothie was starting to get sticky.
David was stubborn in most respects, even and especially when it came to Finley, but he wasn't immune to the man, and they both knew it. Which just made David feel even more indignant now that they were alone together. As soon as Finley used that particular tone of voice with him, David narrowed his eyes and regarded him a little more warily, not quite prepared to throw in the towel yet. They both knew he would, but it was that realization alone that had David still standing there for a few more moments with his arms crossed over his bare chest, as stubborn as it was a feeble attempt to somehow protect himself from Finley’s advance, knowing already that it was useless.
As Finley moved in, David fought the urge to push against him to maintain some kind of space between them. The closer Finley was, the harder it was for David to continue concentrating on why he was angry in the first place. He didn’t push him, but he didn’t move either, remaining stubbornly still as Finley leaned in, the feeling of Finley’s tongue on his cheek causing David to grit his teeth to keep from making a sound. Even with as furious as he had been, that one bit of physical contact from Finley alone was enough to start becoming a distraction. Finley’s breath on his ear didn’t help matters much either, causing David to shiver a little against his will.
Still feeling resentful but now also a little turned on, David grunted and jerked his head back, winding an arm around Finley's neck and grabbing onto the back of his hair a little more roughly than David might have otherwise. He was already shirtless, so why not? Being mad at Finley had never stopped him before, or they'd be hooking up once a month, if that. Their faces close enough to touch, David spoke gruffly, making it known that he still resented Finley a little despite himself. “... You're still a dick.”
“You like dick,” Finley reminded him. This time, it was far quieter, a joke between the two of them, though it would likely still enrage David in light of the way Finley had teased him about it outside, in front of the waiting crowd. He did mean to make it up to him, of course, in whatever way David wished. The hand fisted in his hair was a good start, he thought; any other time, he’d have snapped at David to remove it, because once it was out of place there was no fixing it without a complete redo of the entire process, which he didn’t have the time for more than once a day. He barely had the time to make his hair look as good as it did in the mornings, before he got about his business for the day. Fixing it was out of the question.
Since he’d offered to let David mess it up, though, Finley bit back the near instinctive urge to tell him to stop. Instead, he kept trailing his lips over David’s face, licking at sticky skin and trickles of sweet, cold liquid. “Besides, everyone knows that the best part of a fight is the makeup sex.” It didn’t take long at all for Finley to change tracks, when it came to sex, particularly after he’d satisfied himself by tossing the smoothie into David’s face. “I’d be happy to apologize. Whatever you want, you only have to ask. It’s not often you get a freebie from me.” Freebies weren’t something that Finley tended to hand out, nor was opening up the options for his partners to choose what it was that they were doing. There was a reason that Finley typically preferred to remain in charge; it was because he knew what he was doing, and he could guarantee that he would get them both off, hard enough that they’d be seeing stars, after.
David wasn’t pushing him away, so Finley rested his hands on the smooth skin of the younger man’s bare sides. David had already gotten such a lovely start on getting undressed, it would be a shame not to take the time to appreciate it. He caressed, thumbs running over David’s ribs, fingers curling to press the tips into the smooth plane of his back. In truth, he’d memorized the lines of David’s body already, or very nearly so. There should have been nothing exciting left about it, and yet Finley could think of nothing he wanted more than to enjoy it all over again. It was the lure of the forbidden, perhaps, that made it just as enticing as the first time.
Whatever the reason, Finley stepped closer into David’s body, pulling their chests together as he nuzzled at the younger man’s cheek, breath hot against skin that had been forcibly chilled. Likely, David would simply let him do what he wanted, anyway. Finley was, after all, the one with the experience, the one that knew what new things they could explore together. “I’m very…” Finley pressed another kiss, on the tender skin next to his ear. “Very…” Even lower, on the line of his jaw. “Good at paying off my debts, darling.”