Obi-Wan is aging surprisingly well (obi1) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-10-12 08:23:00 |
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Current music: | Queen |
Entry tags: | !complete, loras tyrell, obi-wan kenobi |
Each morning I get up I die a little
Who: Obi-Wan and Loras
What: After Diamond Nationals (Fight Competition), Obi and Loras celebrate. Loras takes Obi to a gay bar and Obi agrees to wingman him. Pft, of course a bar fight results.
Where: A Gay Bar in Minnesota Somewheres
When: Saturday Night
Status: Complete
Rating: R for Language and Punches and Blood
It took Loras an hour to get ready once they decided to go out to celebrate his victories in the categories he'd entered. Of course, he'd entered kickboxing as he always did, and his sponsors were all pleased that he'd won. The ceremonial switching of baseball caps and sashes with brand names on them had lasted for half an hour as he had his picture taken over and over again, swaths of his own blood on his nose and lip, as well as a swollen eye. The other category had been swordsmanship. He won over last year's champion. After, he was given endorsement contracts to look over, but he doubted he would sign any of them.
All he wanted was to go out with his best friend and do as much debauchery as the both of them could handle. His trophies were placed in his room, in a line of eleven that he'd earned for the entire weekend. Not exactly record breaking, but not bad for two day's worth of very nearly killing himself. When he was ready, he knocked at Obi's door. Loras was dressed up without overdoing it. He drove the rental around until he found what he was looking for. He didn't tell Obi-Wan where they were going, nor did he say why he'd pulled his hair back and placed a pair of sunglasses on his bruised face. He licked the crack on his lip and checked the rear view mirror. "How do I look?" he asked.
Obi-Wan, too, was dressed up, but in his own way... Which basically meant he was wearing a shirt with buttons and had tucked in into his trousers. He actually looked quite handsome, even though he couldn't say he was trying.
"You look a little like Carnen Sandiego," he said to Loras.
"Who the hell is Carmen Sandiego?" Loras asked. Having not grown up with those shows, he didn't have a clue who Obi-Wan was talking about, but if you asked Loras, he looked more like Shaft, which was rather amusing considering where they were heading. Loras shut off the engine, then climbed out of the car, feeling the sore spots on his back and ribs pinch. Before they went anywhere, he reached back into the car for his bottle of prescription pain pills, popped one into his mouth and swallowed it dry, taking a low dose so any side effects from alcohol would be minimal.
He tossed the bottle back under the seat, then shut the door and nodded over to Obi-Wan. "Ready, Slick?" Over the past couple of weeks, Obi's nickname changed from Sparky to Spunky to Slick to Sam to even Chief sometimes, and it always amused Loras whenever it would annoy his friend.
Obi-Wan glanced briefly in the other direction as Loras popped the pill. It didn't really bother him to see others take painkillers when they were necessary, but averting his eyes was still an impulse. He did, however, wrinkle his nose and grin at the nickname. Slick was better than most of the other ones. It was almost a compliment. Well, at least it wasn't a name for a puppy.
He was exceptionally proud of Loras' accomplishments over the weekend. He found the violence grotesque at times, but he stomached it for his friend's sake and came out on the other side with something close to a new appriciation for the sport. And it amused him to discover that Loras was a bit of a celebrity.
The car rolled to a stop in a noisey, decidedly un-Midwestern Norwegian neighborhood. "Where are we, by the way?"
"You'll see," Loras answered, shutting the door to the rental. Not having his Mustang was a bit of a mild annoyance, but he was steadily getting used to an automatic, even though he was still using two feet to step on the break and gas pedals. After a glance back to Obi-Wan and a smile that would charm even the charmless, Loras led the way to the small bar. Inside, it seemed like a fairly normal bar, with the stereotypical jukebox music and the smell of booze and cigarettes, a combination that was unheard of in the state of California.
Loras removed his sunglasses and hat, then shrugged off his coat. It was called in Minnesota this time of year so there was nothing unusual about the clothes, save for the sunglasses. The coat was checked, the sunglasses and hat tucked safely into it. "Let's go get a drink," he told Obi-Wan and almost placed a hand to the man's shoulder before he remembered himself and just led the way to the bar. Behind it, a man looked over both Obi-Wan and Loras, and not in a way that only wondered what they were drinking. Loras leaned forward, his forearms against the bar. "Cinnamon Schnapp's," he told the barkeep. "And whatever the Scot wants."
"Jack and ginger," he said, with little cough. Obi-Wan's mouth had dried in a most curious way. Coupled with the manner in which the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, he had the distinct impression he was being watched.
Or perhaps... Oogled.
Obi-Wan grimaced. There was a deplorable lack of women in the bar. Not that he was looking, but still... Madonna on the speakers. Whimsical colorful accents. "Er, Loras... Old friend. Are we...?"
"In a bar?" Loras finished, innocent as you please. "It would appear so, yes."
If Obi-Wan were looking enough at Loras, he would see that Loras already had a target. His eyes were looking at one corner of the dance floor where a man was standing near the jukebox in a pair of faded jeans and a t-shirt. His hair was long and brown and his jaw held a hint of stubble. The man looked back at Loras and smiled. Loras did not smile back, but didn't take his eyes from the man until a moment later when he looked at Obi-Wan, his lips against the glass that had been placed on the bar beside him.
"Why?" he asked. "Do you have a problem with it?"
A dirty trick to play on Obi-Wan, to be sure, but Obi was his best friend and being Loras' friend meant going to a gay bar from time to time to get Loras a piece.
Obi-Wan pressed his lips together, his jaw jutting forward to create a pensive frown. He shook his head and ]picked up his glass. "I can drink anywhere." The subtext of his willingness to put up with Loras' shenanigans--to a point--went without saying. In fact, it was probably the perfect place to get a drink for a straight man not interested in taking anyone back to his hotel room.
But as for Loras... "You really want to... what are they saying now, hook up?" He followed his friend's gaze to the scruffy looking kid by the jukebox. He kept a blank face, while privately wondering just what there was to see in a man wearing old jeans and a t-shirt. Oh, wait...
"Hook up, Obi?" his gaze left the man by the jukebox to look at his best friend. "Really?"
Jukebox Man frowned when Loras' gaze left him. Loras could almost feel it and smiled, clearly basking in this game. For all Jukebox Man knew, Obi-Wan was his partner and there was no chance the blond was going to be in his bed. This much was true, Loras did not intend to be in anyone's bed tonight. Against a wall perhaps, but not in a bed.
A tall man in his forties sat down at the stool next to Obi-Wan. Loras watched him carefully over the brim of his glass.
Obi-Wan’s focus remained on Loras. He leaned back against the bar, propping himself on his elbow. He shrugged with the opposite shoulder. “I don’t know. What would you call it? How does this work?” He was almost curious, but mostly he was just trying to make the best of things.
As for the man who sat beside him, Obi-Wan’s back remained turned. He sense his presence and left it at that. Like Loras, he was assuming that everyone in the bar already thought them a couple; then again, he couldn’t personally say seeing a woman with another man at a bar had ever been the final word on the matter.
"What? You want to see?" Loras teased, his eyes still on the man beside Obi-Wan.
The man spoke finally. "Got a light?" he asked. Not a bad looking bloke, really. Loras would have wanted one who was skinnier, but he wasn't that overweight. This should be quite interesting, so long as the guy didn't persist too much.
The man had leaned just enough towards Obi-Wan that he could feel his hot breath on the back of his neck. His eyes narrowed on Loras, whom he blamed for making eye contact, whether or not he actually had; out of politeness, he turned around and made a point of appearing as casual as possible. “No, sorry. I quit. Threw my lighter out last week.” He turned back to Loras and picked up the glare where it had left off. “Anyway...”
Loras grinned against the brim of his glass.
The man behind Obi-Wan frowned from being rejected, then went casually on his way to find another possibility. Loras took another swallow from his drink, throwing his head back and downing it. He'd never been drinking with Obi-Wan, and he drank so rarely that it already went to his head. He tapped the glass on the bar and watched as it was refilled before he looked back at his best friend. Obi-Wan had the attention of some of the bar and Loras wondered just what would be happening by the end of the night.
"I think you might have to drive home," he commented, "Or we can catch a cab." His attention went back to Jukebox Man who looked back at him again, this time smiling.
Obi-Wan, too, was making good use of his drink. He would need to, in order to get through the night. If he was going to spend the evening fending off the advances of other men, they would probably be calling a cab to get themselves home. He signaled for a second soda and whiskey.
“One question, though,” Obi-Wan said. “And give me an honest answer. Am I your wingman tonight?”
"I always knew you were smart, I don't care what Dani says about you," Loras teased again.
He hadn't thought about it really, but a wingman might do him some good, especially since someone had already honed in on Jukebox Man, and that someone was almost as good looking as Loras. In fact, he might have been better looking since Loras' face had taken a fair amount of abuse over the weekend. "That one," he said as Jukebox Man's attention moved from Loras to the rather good looking bloke beside him. "The one with the long hair who looks like..." Renly he almost said, "Looks like he just rolled out of bed."
Loras took another swallow of his drink, feeling it burn from his throat to his stomach. "I'm going to suck his dick until his eyes bulge right out of his skull." Were Margaery here, Loras doubted she'd be too surprised by his words.
Obi-Wan meanwhile rolled his head to the ceiling and groaned audibly. He turned back to the bar to face his second drink, focusing his eyes on the bubbles until they looked like little popping eyeballs. He told himself a joke to reclaim some calm, wondering instead if the eyes shouldn’t be sucked inward and leave behind gaping holes in the man’s skull.
Obi-Wan had a very dark sense of humor. It went into full force as defence mechanism.
He signaled to the bartender. “Excuse me, but I’m going to need another shot, if you’d be so kind.” He waited for it, and sensed Loras hovering over his shoulder. “So... I’m taking the one with the neon yellow tank top, is that it?” He was exaggerating a bit. It was more of a mustard yellow.
"It isn't neon," Loras argued, just for the sake of arguing.
His own glass was filled again. Loras knocked it back. It was instantly refilled, and Loras knocked that one back as well. It didn't take long before he became drunk enough to gather up more bravery. When he stood, he was much less stable than when they'd walked in.
"Watch," he told Obi-Wan without knowing just how much of a show his best friend was about to get. Loras sauntered toward the jukebox. Even drunk, Loras was surprisingly graceful. Jukebox Man looked at him and smirked. The man beside him looked at him and scowled.
“It’s bright enough,” Obi-Wan argued back, but just like Loras, he really didn’t care about the color of the shirt. He just needed to vent a little before approaching the two men. When he turned around, Loras was already sauntering on his way. The kid really wasn’t much of a drinker at all. No body fat to buffer the alcohol.
“Oh hell...” he muttered and began to shuffle behind him, steeling himself and trying to get into character. Or something like that. How the hell was a gay version of himself supposed to act? He had wingmanned in search of women. Hopefully the idea was about the same. Chat up the friend, keep an eye on Loras’ progress, disappear when necessary.
"Finding anything good?" Loras cooed at Jukebox Man as he drew near enough for the man to hear him.
But before Jukebox Man could respond, the one in the yellow tank beside him responded, "Not in you." Yellow Tank laughed. Loras did, too, but only for a second before he turned back to the one who resembled his King Renly. Loras wished he had more liquid courage to drown himself in, he wasn't very accustomed to picking up strangers in public.
Yellow Tank ignored Obi-Wan. "Hey, what's your problem, man?" he asked Loras, but it was the hand that shoved Obi-Wan out of the way that saw Loras' attention suddenly shift. He didn't know how Obi-Wan would respond, but it wouldn't be anything good, but Loras didn't know that he cared that Yellow Tank might get hurt. He cared more about Obi-Wan staying out of jail.
Obi-Wan bit down on his tongue and counted to five. He thought about a few moves he could make that would put Yellow Tank on the floor in three seconds. He let the images pass through his mind and lifted his chin. “Do you know what I think? I think the problem is that my friend needs to learn how to be a little more subtle when I tell him I’d like to get to know the chaps by the record player.” Obi-Wan did not break his gaze from Yellow Tank’s brown eyes. He had been nicknamed The Negotiator for a reason. In a few words, he had turned two-on-two into a foursome--he bit back a grimace at the phrasing--so long as Yellow Tank bit, too. His focus was on him.
"I think your friend," Yellow Tank snapped, "needs to go sit back down before I make him."
Loras could have laughed and almost did, but he was too busy now moving closer to his target who was inviting him over with a glance. Obi-Wan had the attention of Yellow Tank so Loras took his as soon as he felt long fingers in his hair. He thought of how Renly's had felt and closed his eyes. He didn't care what the guy's name was, he just grabbed a fist full of the front of this shirt and pulled him in until their lips met and was glad to find that the gesture was answered instantly. He didn't hear the gasp next to him or anything else. It could have very well been the alcohol drowning his hearing out. What he knew was that one second he was being kissed and the next he was on a table, the corner of it catching his spine.
Loras hissed out in pain, but managed to push his attacker off. He wasn't entirely surprised to find that it was Yellow Tank.
"What are you gonna do?" the man taunted, weaving back and forth while Loras managed to stand up, stretching his back and holding it where it hurt. During the competition, he'd been kicked there several times and that certainly hadn't helped things. The man came after him and Loras reflexively brought his arm to the back of the guy's neck, pulling him to his knee. It wasn't as powerful as he'd wanted it to be, but it gave him enough time to move back, holding his spine again. He felt hands on him and knew it was Jukebox Man checking on him.
Perhaps it was also the job of the wingman to keep the forth party on the floor so that the fight wouldn’t get out of hand. Obi-Wan was in a very good position to do this, without lifting a finger. He used the Force to push Yellow Tank into the tile, rendering him motionless while he took the time casually place his drink on top of the Jukebox and signal the already approaching bouncer.
“I believe you saw the whole thing, yes? I think the kid’s had one too many. Got a bit violent with my friend.” Obi-Wan winked at Loras from over his shoulder.
“It might have been self defence,” the bouncer replied. “But your friend’s gonna have to leave, too.”
Obi-Wan waved a hand before the bouncer’s eyes. “No, I don’t think that will be necessary.”
“Not necessary...” The classic dopey response to a Mind Trick.
Obi-Wan smiled. “It’s fine if we stay.”
“Fine... you can stay...” The bouncer lifted Yellow Tank to his wobbly feet.
The Jedi’s smile deepened. He looked back at Loras. “And a free drink, too? For our troubles?”
“Free drink...”
But Obi-Wan had pushed it just a tad too far, letting down his guard just enough so that when he released the Force Push, he was met with an exclamation point at the end of the sentence: Yellow Tank’s fist in his face. Obi-Wan bit into his cheek and his saliva mixed with blood. With a final grumble, Yellow Tank was dragged from the bar and Obi-Wan took a seat in one of the booths. “Oh, son of a bitch.”
Arms swooped around Loras from behind. The man was tall, much taller than Loras, standing at least six feet. Loras kept the arms there for now, running his hands along them, watching proudly as Obi-Wan played Jedi mind tricks of the likes Loras had yet to see. He felt as if he were witnessing something that was important, a first as it were. The rest of the bar had gone silent as well, watching this turn of events.
Loras saw it coming, though, before Obi did. He yelled, but before he could get it out, Yellow Tank's fist had connected to Obi-Wan with a hard thud. "Let me go," he told Jukebox Man. He was no longer interested and it wasn't Obi-Wan he went after. It was the man in the yellow tank top. The drink was fully working its way through Loras' body now. He stepped out into the night air and hollered after Yellow Tank. The man didn't run when Loras went after him. All Loras could see was the way blood and spit had all but exploded from his face. He thought of Renly and what Renly had looked like, lying there dead on the ground, and that was all it took for Loras to come down hard on the man in the yellow tank. As his fists connected with the man's body, he blacked out, not caring if the guy wound up dead on the sidewalk and paying no mind to the cries for help.
From the booth, Obi-Wan watched the intimidating blur of Loras’ slight but powerful frame race to the door. He frowned with grim resignation to his young friend’s impulsiveness. “I suppose free drinks are out,” he muttered, but clearly one of them had already had enough, and Obi-Wan had lost interest, too. He was on his feet as Yellow Tank fell to the ground, racing outside to make sure no one died before he got there.
“Loras! Loras!” he bellowed. “Loras!” He grabbed his friend by the neck of his shirt, proving his rarely displayed strength as he lifted him up.
Before he could breathe another breath, Loras was hoisted off his feet as if he were nothing. Never would he hurt Obi-Wan, not unless Obi-Wan asked for it. As he looked into the Jedi's face, he only grew angrier, but he stopped swinging, panting as he swiped his thumb over the bloody area of Obi-Wan's lip. Below, Yellow Tank scrambled to his feet and ran before he could be attacked again by either one of the men.
Then, Loras smiled, slowly beginning to laugh. He laughed a little louder, pushing his fingers into Obi-Wan's thick hair. A bit of blood smeared into it, and the touching was altogether more brotherly than anything because that was what Obi-Wan came close to. A brother. His only brother.
Obi-Wan’s scowl began to soften as he watched Tank disappear into the night over Loras’ shoulder, as scared and as yellow as a hen. His eyes shifted back to Loras’ face. His friend’s healing cuts had been reopened and he would look far worse come the morning. Obi-Wan ran his tongue along the gash he had inflicted with his own teeth. Of all things, he began to chuckle, too. Or maybe, just maybe, it was closer to a giggle. His shoulders began to bounce and within seconds, he was buckling forward, laughing outright.
Loras' feet landed softly on the ground, fingers sliding from Obi-Wan's hair. He was laughing, too, like a school boy. After his first fight, he hadn't cried like most boys would have. He'd laughed, but not as hard as this. He laughed at the way Obi-Wan was laughing, and the way they couldn't go anywhere without something happening, and how it usually wasn't good at all.
Even when the door to the bar opened and out came the tall man with the long dark hair, Loras exploded in laughter. "I can't..." he wheezed, waving a hand. The guy probably didn't even want him now. Not now that he had cuts and more bruises and his back probably wouldn't bend in a manner it normally would have if he were to actually still want it. Oh, but Loras did still want it, just not from Jukebox Man anymore. "Let's," he breathed, "let's get the hell out of here, huh?"
Obi-Wan had an impressive laugh, but that might have been due to the fact that it so rarely was heard at full capacity. He laughed at his own laugh, he laughed at Loras’ laugh, at the way Yellow Shirt had run for his life, he laughed at his pitiful attempt to play the part of a gay man, he laughed at the utter ridiculousness of the situation. He held his stomach when it began to hurt. He couldn’t speak when Loras spoke, so instead he just nodded and started jogging away from the bar.
Jogging. Yes, that was the thing to do when you were drunk. Loras was glad their hotel was near, just a few blocks away. At the entrance, he stopped and placed his hands to his thighs. Apparently drinking also made one more out of breath than normal. "I don't think gay bars are really my scene," he decided at once, placing a hand to the side of the building. He was cold and wished he'd brought a coat with him; California had spoiled him to the warmth.
Obi-Wan was not nearly as drunk, not nearly as beaten up, and not nearly as winded. He strutted to a halt beside Loras and lifted a puzzled eyebrow. Not his scene, he wondered to himself. "Ah, so you just wanted to see how uncomfortable you could make me." But he knew
that wasn't the reason.
"No," Loras said grumpily, his lips pursing into a pout. He pushed his fingers through his own hair, combing it out.
"It would have been nice to actually take that bloke back to the room with me." Now he sort of regretted running away. He could probably still find someone, but that would require putting down his guard and possibly getting into even more trouble than a one night stand was worth.
Obi-Wan worked his jaw. It was already tender. He'd have a bruise, no doubt. Dani might have a few words to say about him getting into a bar fight like a moronic school fellow. "Bloke? Since when are you calling people blokes?"
"Since I became your friend," Loras said pointedly.
"You know," he said, smiling again, "You make a pretty good wingman." The gay thing, though, no one would buy in a million years. Ole Yellow Tank certainly hadn't. It was a wonder neither of them had gotten arrested. That they weren't sitting in a cell right now was nothing short of - well, nothing short of Obi-Wan's miracle workings.
"Yes, but next time, let's pick out a bloke with a female friend hanging about, shall we?" he said, walking off a muscle cramp in his side. Obi-Wan was less drunk, but he was also older.
"I don't think there are too many gay men who go to regular bars," Loras pointed out. "Besides, I don't think Dani would appreciate it if there was a female friend hanging about, but deal." He'd thought a gay bar might do him good. That was where they picked each other up, wasn't it? Where they met each other? Loras sighed. It was so much easier for straight people to meet each other in that respect.
"I think I need a shower," he declared, looking down at his swollen knuckles.
Loras was putting up a good show--or maybe a fight--but Obi-Wan could sense his sadness even without his powers. It pained him to see his dear friend still so lonely, so long after Renly's departure. Loras wasn't looking for a lay, he was grasping at straws for love.
Maybe the alcohol was helping, but Obi-Wan draped an arm over Loras shoulders and walked him toward the hotel door. "Loras, for what it's worth, you could have had that gangly looking bloke by the jukebox, but you can also do far better. Far better. And I am not done wingmanning you in this life."
What Obi-Wan thought was the truth. No one could replace Renly, of course, but even for just a little while, Loras needed to forget. Maybe a night with another man would stop the dreams and stop Loras from still loving someone who didn't love him back in this world. But Loras shook his head. He'd wanted it earlier, but now he wasn't very interested.
"Let's just get drunk and eat too much and watch bad porn," he suggested. "Straight porn. " For Obi-Wan's sake.
There was a time, years back, when Obi-Wan would have sought the same thing. But now, looking back, he knew those women and those parties and those pills had been a waste of his time. And his understanding had deepen a hundred-fold now that he had Danielle. They had been bandages, and even then more tape than gauze; something that had barely kept him together and hurt like a bitch once they tore. And Danielle herself wasn't the cure, but loving her was healing him from within.
Oh, he was becoming such a sappy romantic. It was wonderful.
Meanwhile, Obi-Wan shook his head. "I don't care for porn. Surprised? I think not."
"Westerns, then."
Who cared? Loras didn't, that was for sure, he just didn't want to go out again. Where would he go? Trumpsing about with Obi-Wan to wingman him in hopes that whoever they picked out liked to stick their dick in pretty boys? Loras wanted to forget, but he wasn't that desperate either.
To Be Continued...