Prompt: Mitch has been quite unfaithful to his "one true love". Everything seems to be turning out fine, until, of course, his two worlds collide at a corner bar.
Setting: AU Different Personalities (Scott has an English accent, btw)
Words: 1144
•••••
No. Way.
No fucking way.
"Baby, you've got to try this! It's– it's a mixture of pina colada and rainbows! Amazing! Tip the bartender; everyone should tip the bartender."
Rico's rambles remain loud and present in my ear, but I find it hard to focus when meeting the gaze of whom I believe is the last person I should be seeing right now.
He grins, nodding in affirmation to the blonde in front of him, yet never breaking eye contact with me.
I am in big, big trouble.
Rico's hand slides to my back as he laughs jovially with one of "his boys". I awkwardly focus my attention on the screen to my right, and adjust my posture frequently, watching him make his way over through my peripheral vision.
"Mitch Grassi?"
Fuck, my name on his tongue always gives me goosebumps.
•••
"What's your name, lovely?"
He pressed himself firmly against me. Something like a cry passed through my lips.
"Mitch. Mitch Grassi."
•••
I turn to face him, my eyebrows raised in faux surprise.
"Oh, Scott! Hi, what a pleasure it is to see you here!"
Rico attention makes its way to my conversation, and damn, my anxiety is thriving.
"Who you?" His eyes narrow, and the previous daze of drunkenness seems to take a vacation.
I clear my throat.
"Oh, Scott, meet Rico, my fiancé. Rico, meet Scott, my..."
"Re-districted CEO." He shoots his hand out with an award-winning smile, as if this was rehearsed.
•••
"And, you are?" I asked from the couch, swinging my feet up and pulling my knees to my chest.
"An actor."
"Really? Never heard your name before."
"That's because they haven't discovered me yet. It's okay, though. I'm a patient person." He winked, passing me a hot cup of coffee.
•••
Who does he think he is? Bill fucking Gates?
Rico looks down at Scott's hand as if it's beef tartare.
"Okay, cool. Glad you guys had a chance to meet, um, Scott? Can I have a word with you? Really quickly? Awesome, thanks, let's go." I grab his wrist, pushing myself off the bar stool and marching towards the terrace.
________________________
"What the fuck was that?"
"That's your Goddamn fiancé?" He smiles in disbelief, his hands in his pockets.
"It doesn't matter; why are you here?"
"I missed you, Mitch Grassi." He pouts, snaking a hand around my waist.
"Stop it!" I scold, simultaneously smacking his hand away.
"Ow!" He laughs.
"You were getting too handsy"
•••
"Mitch Grassi. Getting a little too handsy for my liking." He kissed me harder, grabbing my wrists and holding them above my head against the wooden closet door.
•••
"You need to leave. Like, now." My hand massages my temples.
"Why? The night's just begun. Besides, I've got a gathering of my own to attend to."
"And CEO? You're a failed actor, not an entrepreneur." I lean on the railing. I could barely look at him right now.
"So? All I have in common with that bust inside is a burning, raging love for you–"
"Oh my God."
"–and a really good haircut, I'll give him that! Though, he's drunk off his ass and hadn't given you the time of day until I came around. That's no fiancé."
"That's a fiancé on his birthday, you asshat."
Scott chuckles, his arms once again around my waist, embracing me from behind.
"Okay, okay. You got me," I feel his chin rest amongst my thin hair, "I saw you tonight, and, I dunno. I just couldn't let you go and disappear into thin air like last time. I got lucky enough to see you twice. You don't run into three-night stands so often unless it means something..."
"It means that we live in the same city. I don't even think a three-night stand is a thing. We have different lives–"
"And yet, I can't continue on with mine. You won't let me." he sighs.
"What–"
"Goddamn it, Mitch Grassi. I can't forget you like you forgot me."
He whispers it so softly it almost loses its significance.
But, it doesn't.
•••
"What's this?"
"A temporary engagement ring." I smirk, sliding it off and analysing the way the light refracted through the cheap diamond.
"Nevermind that," I tossed it onto his hardwood floor, "where were we?"
•••
I turn around, and he allows room for me to spin, pressing me back against the railing as our chests touch.
"I didn't forget, Scott. Even if I tried, I don't think I could." My hand plays with the collar of his polo.
"You're Goddamn right, you couldn't. I made you feel in ways that fleabag could never."
"Don't get defensive. You talk like a fucking paper boy or something." I chuckle, but he doesn't stop.
"No, c'mon, I'm right, aren't I? The sounds you made, give me chills still, even when I'm only remembering them. Your body responds so Goddamn quickly to my touch, Mitch Grassi."
"You ever get sick of saying my name like that, Scott?" My eyes break their gaze.
"I could never. I know what it does to you."
His voice is quiet, sultry now; my breathing pattern kicks up a notch. I press my warm forehead to his shoulder as his lips touch my ear.
"Even right now, just having you close to me, my God, you get me drunk."
"Scott," I swallow hard, "stop."
"Why? So you can go back in there and pretend you didn't leave right after that phony gave you all that he's got to get your fix from some cheap yet buff actor you found on the street?"
Light kisses trail from my ear to my neck.
"You're more than just some cheap, buff actor, baby." I smile lazily, my eyes flutter closed.
"And he's more than some fleabag, but I can only tell you what I saw when I was in there. I'll never get the pleasure of knowing your lifelong. You're going back in there no matter what I say."
His words fade to static noise as his fingers tease my waistband.
"In fact, I feel like I should tag along."
"Tag along?" I murmur, not really processing anything but his firm hands cupping my ass.
"Mhmm," he cranes his neck back and lays a sudden kiss on my lips, "see what's really oh-so-good about this jockey." He slaps my bum playfully, jolting me back to reality. He manages to work me up every time, leaving me unsatisfied once again, but undoubtedly leaving me wanting more.
Something Rico hasn't done in years.
"W-What?"
"C'mon! It'll be fun!"
"What? No! Fuck, no! Absolutely not, are you insane?" I meet his light eyes, almost hoping he's joking. Damn, those eyes. And, God, that smile. His beauty is unearthly.
"Just figured it'd be fitting to dangle you in front of him like a carrot on a string."
"He's the one with the ring on his finger."
"Oh yeah, and where's yours?"
"Not sure. Good point."
•••••
This was all over the place, but kinda cute idk.
Happy Thanksgiving from the States! Even though the origin of this holiday is sickening it's always good to give thanks and get some good eats.
Turkey or Ham?
Ham. Ham, ham, ham.