...You sure you don’t want to get laid tonight? Who: Cinderella’s Prince (Tom), and Hans of the Southern Isles When: September 8, 2014 Where: Car and Bar What: Tom takes Hans out to try and get him drunk and laid, then leaves him in a bar when the opportunity to take home a chunky bridesmaid presents itself. Rating/Warnings: Low/None (Tom’s a bit of a sleeze, and there might be some language, but I don’t think there’s any triggers in here.) Status: Complete
Tom hired a driver. If they were gonna get shit-faced, he didn’t want either himself or Hans to have to drive home aftward. That was no fun. The car was black and sleek, and Tom had the driver honk the horn from the sidewalk outside after sending a text to Hans that they were there. Come on out. Tom wasn’t the type to go walk to the door to pick up his guy friends.
That was reserved for the ladies.
As much as Hans liked his friend Tom, he didn’t really need to be on the same level as the ladies. Or conquests, whichever word was preferred. No text was fired back since he was ready to go anyway, and the door opened about two seconds later - there emerged the prince, all set for a night out at the bar pouring alcohol down his throat. Actually, he couldn’t wait to see what sorts of ideas Tom had regarding ‘fighting for her,’ the her in question being Anna. Knowing Tom, it was either going to surprisingly brilliant or something that would end in a restraining order - you just never could tell with him.
“Well, this should be interesting,” was his greeting as he climbed into the car. Tom had been the college roommate of one of Hans’s older brothers, but then after that, with so much in common, it was like Tom was the perfect partner in crime.
Conquests was probably more accurate. But Tom didn’t mind either, really. He thought of them as ladies. Treated them like princesses, made them breakfast the following morning, then pretty much forgot about them. There were a few who kept coming back for more, and those were a bit closer to his heart--though Tom never really let anyone in there. No girls, anyway.
Once Hans was settled in with his seatbelt on, and the car was pulling away from the curb, Tom held out a flask to his friend. “Should be. Tell me more about this girl.” He was grinning like a Cheshire Cat, excited to be there to help his friend. Brilliant or a restraining order would also be incredibly accurate. Like the flip of a coin, you never could tell.
Hans took the flask, toasting with it in a gesture of thanks before taking a pull from it - just the warmup, the preliminary, for tonight’s escapades. Usually, he wasn’t one to really indulge in libations but since he had just breathed in Anna’s pot smoke a few days ago, he really didn’t care right now. And he may have needed something to take the edge off anyway, if only for a night.
“She’s...” Something. She was something. He returned the flask to Tom, figuring out how to put it, exactly. “She far too good for someone like me. Good-hearted, I mean. And it’s not up to her to fix things for me or anything. But she would make them more bearable. A bright spot, I guess.” God, he sounded like a moron. “I just don’t know if it would work. Wouldn’t she always be distrustful of me? As some unconscious thing?” In that respect, he really hated the dreams.
It was some really good rum in the flask. Good stuff. Tom liked the stuff that was spicy, slightly sweet, and went down without too much burn. At least to start. They could be drinking rubbing alcohol by the end of the night, and it wouldn’t phase him either way. Tom was still trying to figure out if they were skirt chasing tonight or not.
Tom’s eyebrow raised at the mention of a bright spot. He accepted the flask back and took a pull of it himself, then passed it back over. Sounded like Hans needed it more than he did. “...I don’t know. I don’t think so? I’ve never had these dreams. But think about it this way… she’s having a nightmare… you’re there to comfort her. The Real Life you. You’ve never hurt her in this world, right? She can’t blame you for something you never did, can she?”
“I’m sure she can, even if she doesn’t realize she’s doing it,” Hans rolled his eyes, his humor about the whole thing rather dry. Because it was just so unbelievable, but if he were an outsider, he’d have to laugh at the insanity of it all. “Or it’s what everyone else will tell her to do. Isn’t that kind of messed up though? She’s having nightmares about me, but seeks comfort in the thing that gives her those nightmares?”
It was meant as a rhetorical question, as he took another drink from the flask. Like the answers could be found in the bottom. “Sorry, I’m not trying to rain on your parade or anything.” Tom could skirt-chase to his hearts content. That was in his nature anyway - it was like caging a wild bird, to attempt to prevent such things.
"You said she told you to leave you alone. Is that like, I'll get a restraining order if you come near me kind of leave me alone?" Tom asked, reaching for the flask. "You think she hates you waking like she does while dreaming? If she's telling everyone about what you did in the dream world, that could be a sign. Not an insurmountable one, though." Tom gulped from the flask.
The car pulled into a parking lot at a ritzy bar on the beach. Tom unbuckled and climbed out so they could head in.
“I’m actually not sure what she’s telling people, but I can’t imagine it being anything good,” he said, olive eyes watching the ground, downcast, as he climbed out of the car. “She basically just said she wanted space. That things were too confusing for her. I think...”
Hans paused, walking beside Tom as they made their way up to the door. Alcohol was calling him, stat. “I think she may like me more than she expected. Or wants to. So she’s trying to find excuses as to why she can’t spend time with me. And looks for confirmation about why it’s a bad idea.” Even though barely anyone here knew him from Adam. But he’d entered a group - if you could call the network that - which seemed to judge people based on who they were in dreams. There was really no getting around it.
Not really a beer drinker, he’d make an exception now. The corona was glowing like salvation in the cold case at the bar, and that’s what he ordered when they got up there.
Tom ordered the same. His plan was to match Hans drink for drink tonight. He had a feeling his tolerance was a little higher than his younger friend, and he wanted to keep some wits about him. Especially if Hans needed to drink to forget.
But Tom was also thinking about what Hans said. “Well, that’s something we can work with. She likes you. That’s a good start. And you like her, too, now you just have to prove it to her. Prove that you’re not just the Hans from her Dreams. You’re the Hans in Real Life--the one who’s going to treat her right no matter what.”
He thanked the bartender for the beers when they were set on the bar in front of them, then Tom took a gulp from his.
Usually it was ‘liquor before beer and you’re in the clear,’ but that was a load of shit. Hans would drink whatever he wanted and if he felt like switching to bourbon halfway through, then so be it. “I’ll do my best,” he chuckled ruefully, turning to face Tom on the bar stool. The place was a hotspot, packed full of people, and normally there would be eyes roving but right now they were involved in a serious conversation that needed to happen first. Or something.
“So, how do you suggest I do it, Wise One?” This ought to be good.
Tom gulped from his beer bottle--Coronas were fun when they served them in the bottle with the slice of lime on top? Ah, the little things in life--and then set it down again on the bar, thinking hard. You could tell he was thinking hard when women with short skirts walked past and his eyes didn’t follow them.
“Well, you know how much I like instant gratification. But I’m afraid this isn’t the kind of thing you can fix overnight.” Tom said. (He liked things that he could fix overnight. Preferrably while naked, surrounded by beautiful women, and with scrambled eggs in the morning.)
“I’d start with something small. Something to show her you’re thinking about her, and that you care. But not something that screams stalker. Like… bringing her coffee. Or a chocolate bar. Just drop it on her desk without saying anything. Give her a smile. And move on.” Tom said. He thought he remembered Hans saying something about how this girl worked at his fencing school.
Hans was bracing himself for the worst, prepared to hear an idea about how he should steal a pair of Anna’s underwear or something, but that...? That? It was surprisingly helpful. And astute. “Not bad,” he praised, tipping his beer bottle in Tom’s direction, a show of recognition. He remembered Anna saying that her favorite sandwich was grilled cheese, with tomato soup. Maybe he could grab lunch for her one day, and leave it for her as a surprise.
Plus, it reminded him we finish each other’s sandwiches and it was at least that familiar bright spot amongst the shadows.
“What else? Any other suggestions?” he inquired, since he may as well get as much charming advice as he could, before Tom zeroed in for the kill on Bar Bunny of the night.
Tom had good ideas every once in a while. He wasn’t just full of ‘sex ‘em when you get ‘em’... Tom could be romantic and thoughtful. Charming. It took good ideas to be charming. He clinked his bottle neck against Hans’ and then gulped from it once more while he thought.
“You know what women go crazy for? Hand-written stuff. Notes. So, leaving her a little note on her desk? Another good idea.” Tom suggested. “...though, honestly, she asked you for space… you should give her a little space. I’d give it a few days before you do anything. And if she seems amenable? Then tell her your intentions. Tell her how you feel.”
Ugh. Feelings. Tom generally spent his time avoiding those. But it seemed like Hans was full of them, and this girl would likely appreciate hearing them. Girls dug that sort of thing.
They were like peas in a pod when it came to feelings. Hans blinked a few times, shoving the lime down the bottle’s golden neck. “Right...” he coughed, because it wasn’t as if he avoided his feelings. It was simply just...alright, that was exactly what it was. But he hadn’t had a reason to really deal with that and what it meant. He felt things. That wasn’t the problem. He wasn’t a sociopath. More like he didn’t know how to really allow himself to be anything except seventh best. Or in his dreams case, thirteenth best. The thought of actually, potentially, being put first by someone else - someone who loved him - was strange and foreign.
“Space,” he nodded. “I can do that. Might be best to not crowd her.” And also best for figuring out how to put feelings. On a handwritten note. Already he felt his brain exploding. Was it time for bourbon yet?
“But not for too long,” Tom warned. “She’s pretty, right? Young? Sweet? You don’t want to give her too much space, lest some other guy swoop in and snatch her out from under your careful watch.” He lifted his bottle to sip again. “I doubt you’re the only prince who’s taken notice of her.”
Tom turned around to lean back against the bar now, and looked out over the crowd of young drinkers in the pub. He raised an eyebrow. “...You sure you don’t want to get laid tonight?” He asked, his eyes falling on a pair of incredibly easy targets.
Hans pinched the bridge of his nose, as if staving off a headache that was cracking his skull in two. How much space was too much space? How much was not enough? Maybe he’d go with three days. Maybe four. Five? Fuck his life. “This is like the worst kind of puzzle,” he groaned, and that was when he ordered the bourbon. Just...give him all of it, really. All of the alcohol.
At Tom’s question, he shook his head, though watched the targets for a moment - he could tell they were his friend’s type, especially given the way they were drinking fruity concoctions with neon-colored juice. “I’m sure. I think that’s probably about as far from a good idea as possible, but like I said, you go right ahead.”
“Women are the best kind of puzzle. You’ve just got to learn the strategy. You know, like a real puzzle. Outside edges first. Then work your way in.” Tom finished his beer and nodded to the bartender. Bourbon sounded fine. “...All right. But remember that option is there. And would be easy.” He let his head tip to the side a little, watching the girls with the fruity, neon drinks. “...ridiculously easy. Take your mind off the girl for a night.”
Probably a bachelorette party. Or not even that - maybe a 21st birthday celebration. Ladies night? Hans didn’t really care; he wasn’t the one getting laid, anyway. It just felt wrong, for some reason. Especially if all he was going to do was think about how to approach this weird situation with Anna. Maybe he had a semblance of a conscience, somewhere.
At least he wasn’t the guy on the network hitting the same girl with his car. That likely wouldn’t be the best way to impress her.
“Words of wisdom from Prince Charming,” he quipped, though how true that moniker was, he had no clue just yet. It would all make sense later.
Tom gave a little shrug of his shoulders as if to say guilty as charged. He was grinning softly. “Hey, I’m good at the romance thing. It’s the follow through…” He pretended as if he was swinging a golf club. “I leave that shit up to guys like you. Guys with longer attention spans.” He lifted his glass of bourbon from the counter and raised an eyebrow. “You gonna be okay, though? If I go over there and introduce myself to those ladies?” The hired car would take Hans home.
Honestly, Tom? Really? Hans had to smirk, but not in a cruel way. He was just distinctly amused. Most men could keep it in their pants for at least hour, at a bar hanging out with another friend, but Tom was probably an exception to that logic. Maybe just wired that way? Still, Hans had some self-control.
“I’m fine,” he promised, knocking back half the glass of bourbon in one go. The next glass wouldn’t last long either. Many cheap kinds tasted like burnt toast but this was good. It had woody flavors, an aftertone of caramel. “Just...don’t fuck anyone in the bathroom, that’s tasteless.” Class! Sometimes he had to remind his friend, you know, just those little reminders.
Or if he wanted to fuck someone in the bathroom, that was his perogative too. You’d just never catch Hans Westergaard in a toilet stall, thank you kindly.
Tom chuckled. “I’ll be back to check in. The Driver’s here for you. Just tell him if you’re ready to head home before I come back, all right?” He clapped Hans on the shoulder. It really had been good talking to the younger man, and he sure hoped that his advice would help Hans with this girl. This Princess. Whoever she was. Tom already sort of disliked her because she was spreading rumors about Hans, but whatever.
He lifted his glass and headed off across the bar to the bachelorette party, or whatever it was, and sidled up to one of the heavier girls. Easy target.