Lovely Bastards (BxB) (MxM)

Chapter 5 - Blow!

Glancing out the window before he left, Kit noticed that the moon was rising, white-blue and round, and shivered. A chill raced up his spine and he did not know why.

Lately he had been feeling strange at the full moon. But that was impossible. 

No-one felt strange at the full moon.

The reason emergency rooms and holding cells filled up on these nights was that people used it as an excuse, or were superstitious enough to imagine things. Or just because it was brighter out, so they could see better.

It wasn't real.

"It's not real", Kit told his trembling limbs, the faint cold sweat forming on the back of his neck.

I'm not going crazy. It's not real.

Willing the goosebumps on his arms to go down, he zipped up his hoodie.

Get it together.

The last thing he needed right now was more problems.

"Hey little miss, you're too young to - " 

Kit pushed his hood back and faced the bouncer, feet planted.

"Not a girl, not a kid, not here to drink - just picking up my uncle, like you guys called me too."

He slapped up his fake ID - well, it was real, but not a great likeness - and stepped around the big man before he could do more than blink in surprise. 

It was a surprise that there was a bouncer on a week night, in a low-key place like this. Maybe he was more of a lookout? Cops had like to razzia gay bars, at least in his old town.

Shuffling in, Kit paused as his eyes adjusted to the dim light.

Monday meant that the bar was fairly empty. Straight away, he spotted a blond head slumped over the mostly empty bar and skirted around a few dark, polished tables and clambered up on the barstool next to his uncle, slinging his battered old bag down with a clunk on the bartop. It was smooth dark granite, polished to a shine.

"Get lost, kid," the bartender shot at him, busy restocking glasses. "How'd you get in here?"

"You called me," Kit said as he flipped open his bag on the bartop, pushing coasters, menus, and bowls of peanuts to the side. 

He saw the young man startle at the sound of his voice - husky, its melody turned raspy around the edges from smoking. 

First, he took Charlie's face in his hands, looking to see that he was awake and breathing normally.

Then he pulled out a small metal flashlight and stethoscope, shoving it down Charlie's back and listening to his breaths, small, strong fingers curling around his wrist to take his pulse. The older man made no protest, only mumbling something faint when he felt the cold steel on his bare skin.

"And I'm not a kid," Kit continued, looking up from under his black hoodie and meeting the bartender's eyes.

In some respects they resembled each other, Kit noticed - he was handsome, with full lips and high cheekbones, but older and more masculine, with a slightly darker colouring and a square jaw. 

A black T-shirt hugged his shoulders - he was of average height, but his shoulders were wide, tapering into a narrow waist that gave his torso a distinctly triangular shape. He was muscled, but not in a bulky way like Tyson, more like...a fighter. One of those martial artists on TV. 

And he moved behind the bar in that sure way, as if the knew what he was doing with his body, as if he was comfortable in it. Was he a student? He looked pretty young.