Playing House: Less Top Gun, More Cocktail

[notjustaface]

The new job isn't bad, he's only been working a week and they've already upped his hours to almost full time - working the happy hour till after dinner shift six nights a week. Somewhat as he'd expected, the tips are good... really good, and getting better as he starts to draw a regular crowd of people that are drawn to the kind of guy that does what he does.

Which is essentially being shameless.

As it is, it's almost six-thirty and he's already stripped down to his jeans and a bar towel slung over his shoulder - sweat (and just a little bit of the tequila a VIP asked to take a shot of off his abs) shining up his torso. It's kind of his element... like it or not. And admittedly, he kind of likes it... even with his rings on he's the center of attention.

"You missed your calling as a stripper." The owner smirks, handing off a pair of empty glasses to pass back to the dishwasher. "There's more money in it."

"I like this!" He protests, pouring out a double and a vodka martini. "Besides, I'm married." He holds up his finger as though she hadn't clearly seen the evidence when he applied.

"Honey, you think they care?" She raises an eyebrow toward a group of women approaching the bar - clearly ready to party.

"On it, boss."

Comments

[notjustaface]

"You have no idea how much I'm looking forward to it..." He murmurs, squeezing him tight. "Mine."

[notthatcrazy]

"You know it, babe."

He leans in and kisses him again, warm and tender.

"Always."

[notjustaface]

And if he keeps kissing like that, Face is gonna need a little longer than a five minute break to deal with it.

"How's the little guy?" He forces himself to change the subject and put a bit of distance between them.

[notthatcrazy]

"Hmm?"

It takes him a moment to figure out exactly what 'little guy' he means. It's that kind of conversation.

"He's doin' pretty good, as far as I can tell."

[notjustaface]

He'd be equally confused if he hadn't said it himself - he's trying to be good and while getting off in the backroom would take the edge off before facing the crowd again, he's pretty sure it's a bad idea.

"I was thinking about maybe a dog, you know? Something we can take with us if we go back."

The 'if' is mostly accidental, good thoughts and good shots getting the better of him.

[notthatcrazy]

His restraint has been noted and will be rewarded as soon as they get some actual time to themselves.

"You think that'd work out?"

He catches the 'if,' but the significance of it isn't really registering yet.

[notjustaface]

He half-shrugs, the small towel drooping lower on his broad shoulder.

"It could... I mean we worked out and the odds of that happening were pretty slim, right?"

[notthatcrazy]

"I mean, we're talkin' about a tiny little critter that's dependin' on us to take care of it. It's a big responsibility."

Not that Peter Parker the spider plant isn't a responsibility, but it's hardly on the same level.

[notjustaface]

"It's a dog..." He shrugs again, "not like I'm talking about getting a baby or something..."

It's probably the small but significant amount of booze in his system talking, but he can't help drawing a parallel between wanting to settle down now and when he wanted to settle down with Charissa.

"You know what, nevermind. It's a stupid idea."

[notthatcrazy]

"Hey now, I didn't say it was stupid."

He pulls him close for a quick kiss on the nose.

"It'd just... take some planning."

Even if they do settle down, they're still wanted men.

Speaking of...

"I think your public awaits, darlin'."

[notjustaface]

He lets out a sigh, about to say something that'd probably end up with both feet in his mouth.

"Yeah..." He frowns, shaking his head. "You should stick around, maybe learn a few more of my dirty con tricks."

[notthatcrazy]

He doesn't like that frown.

"Sure, I'll stick around for a while."

He doesn't want to be distracting. (Except that he kind of does.)

[notjustaface]

There's a big difference between a distraction and an observer - and Face likes to think that Murdock wants to function as the latter. Proving to him that nothing too shady is going on.

Because really, it isn't. He's in control of his libido for once in his life, and it actually feels pretty damn good to be able to say that.

"Stay as long as you like. I'll let Marilyn know you're a VIP."

[notthatcrazy]

He's happy to observe. Especially if he keeps his shirt off.

"Sure thing."

He pulls away slightly, holding a hand out to him.

"Shall we?"

[notjustaface]

Keeping his shirt off is practically required after five... it keeps the tips flowing freely, after all. And makes the bar feel a little less warm after a few free drinks.

"We shall..." He moves to join his hand with Murdock's and instead slides his arm around the other man's waist. If he's going to be out - he may as well be all the way out.

"I don't recommend more than two of those - by the way..." he nods toward the strong drink in Murdock's free hand. "It's kind of like drinking paint thinner with a vanilla chaser."

[notthatcrazy]

"Gotcha."

He slips his other arm around his partner, not too shy to show off a bit.

That's right, girls, he's taken.

[notjustaface]

Returning Murdock to his barstool - and himself behind the polished cherry wood - he's not shocked to get a few curious looks when he kisses Murdock's temple gently before going back to working the ladies.

"Alright... dinner specials!" He calls out, hammering the bar; "Two-dollar drafts, four dollar cocktails - stump the bartender you get the first one free but you've gotta drink 'em all night."

[notthatcrazy]

Knowing Face, the ladies'll just find him even more interesting now.

He's content to just watch for a while, as he works the crowd.

[notjustaface]

For the most part, like his rings it's meaningless. And it's not until much later when he's bent back with a hurricane glass sticking out of the top of his pants as he pours a drink into it that he realizes he might be laying it on just a little thick.

Offering Murdock a wink, he passes over the drink and then leans on the bar to ask; "Another drink, babe?"

[notthatcrazy]

Yeah, just a little. Fortunately Murdock's had years to get used to his shamelessness.

"How 'bout one of whatever was in your pants just now?"

[notjustaface]

"Funny... never took you for a long island tea type..." He laughs, taking out another glass and sliding it just right into the front of his jeans.

"Now, just give me a purr when it hits the line..."

[notthatcrazy]

He does, unashamedly ogling as the drink is expertly poured.

"Well, y'know... goin' after what's in your pants usually works out pretty well for me."

[notjustaface]

When he withdraws, he offers a wild smile before setting it down in front of him.

"What can I say, I'm easy when you've got the keys to my heart."

[notthatcrazy]

He takes his hand as he passes the drink over, kissing him on the knuckles. There's a muffled "Aww" from the distinctly inebriated woman a few stools down the bar.

(not that it stops her from trying to feel him up the next time she orders.)

[notjustaface]

Raising both eyebrows at his partner, Face makes a show of licking his lips before attending to the small party at the opposite end of the bar.

Thankfully, they're less interested in his physical assets than his ability to make a decent martini... seven of them.