if music be the food of love, play on

[bartender guy] Hmm… okay, okay, I’ll give it a try.  [bartender guy] The first thing I saw were your eyes and they just brought me in, ya know? Not the color, it was way too dark for that, but just the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed, or the way they focused on me when I was wallowing, no judgment.  [bartender guy] And then you started talking, and your voice, sealed the deal. Hook, line, and sinker.  [bartender guy] I’m reading these over and I sound way cheesy. Like I’m writing a love letter in the fourth grade. 

solomon eyed noah for several moments, brow cocking a little. “name calling when i’m tryna comfort you? cheeky,” he chided, though there was no real heat to his tone. sometimes he did overstep, he thought, got too comfortable in his banter and ended up putting a foot in his mouth. he’d worked on that a bit, in his life - gotten a lot better at knowing when to quit it. he’d been awful in his youth, really lad-ish and loud. gross. 

“yeah yeah, alright. don’t get too sentimental, eh? might prefer the name callin’ to the sweet shit,” he said, giving noah a tiny push before he moved to pick up his beer again. he slugged back what was left, setting the empty bottle on the counter after a moment of looking for the recycling. whatever. he’d do it later. 

solomon’d just stolen another one of noah’s beers from the fridge when the bloke looped an arm around his neck. he let out a little noise of protest, the hold noah had on him yanking him down just a touch. 

“careful of my old bones,” he protested, shrugging noah off when he begun dragging him to the living room. he plucked up noah’s beer as he passed it, popping the top off of his own with the rim of noah’s bottle. took a sort of skill, that did - not the really the coolest one, though. spoke more of the number of beers he’d sunk over the years than it did of any true talent. bit sad. 

“a rash, huh? excuse me if i don’t make the same cream offer,” solomon taunted, sitting down heavily, bringing his beer to his mouth as he set noah’s down. “i’ll do my best, pet. use all my good manners - would’a brought my bib if i’d known.” 

“Into humiliation instead of praise. Got it.” If Solomon was going to keep up that drawl, that little bit of rudeness, then Noah was going to keep chucking shit back at him.

At least he’d gotten off scot free with the neck thing. Fuck. Of all places for Solomon to grab.

Noah settled in a little more with a sigh. “You’re so cruel, Solomon. Letting me fester here, rashful, creamless. Have you ever been nice to someone in your life?” he teased. He adjusted, getting in a good chomp of his burger, then considered as he chewed and swallowed. “...could’ve used more cayenne, maybe. Eh. Next time.” He was still pleasantly satisfied. These were a tough thing to fuck up, and they went damn good with a beer.

[bartender guy] I mean… yes.  [bartender guy] That’ll work [bartender guy] I think.  [bartender guy] Yes, please go back to doing that [bartender guy] I’d flirt back but I don’t know how [bartender guy] Oh! I know how to use emojis.  [bartender guy] 😉 [bartender guy] 😘😘 [bartender guy] 😜 [bartender guy] Okay, that one felt more creepy than flirty

“i always do,” solomon chimed, cheeky grin quite clearly visible despite the beer he lifted to his lips. he sipped at it a moment, eyes following noah as he pottered about, putting things together. it were nice enough, he thought, hanging out like this. the banter was free flowing, as seemed to be the beer - two things solomon greatly appreciated. a spanner, however, was thrown in the works the moment noah started getting glum. 

solomon’s mouth twisted to one side and he pushed off the counter, padding back over to noah. he cupped a hand to noah’s shoulder, a friendly, comforting sort of gesture. he could be quite the physical person, little discomfort in touching someone he’d begun to get to know. his hand shifted after a moment, cupping over the back of noah’s neck, something like a hug without a hug. 

“s’alright, pet. none of that, eh?” he said, shaking his head. “you’re made just fine. don’t take anythin’ i say to heart, yeah? take it all with a big fuckin’ grain of salt.” his hand slipped down as he spoke, rubbing between noah’s shoulder blades briefly some sort of sympathetic pat before it fell away completely. 

“you’re a good lad. i’m a good judge of character, me. my first choice’d be a night with jennifer lopez so don’t feel too bad about comin’ in second, alright?”

bit of a bad joke, but he tried. didn’t want his banter getting noah down, not really. solomon didn’t purposefully like to make people bad - maybe those that deserved it, but thus far noah hadn’t done anything to warrant it. even with all his flirtation and bad bloody innuendo. 

“y’mean chips? i’m good with it just like this - i’m a simple man, me. don’t stress.” 

“That’s the thing,” Noah murmured with another chuckle. The touch was a comfort in and of itself, especially around the back of his neck - it was a grounding spot for him, one that made him weak in the knees, and he struggled to hide his utterly blissful response to the contact. Likely some of it slipped through on his face - faintly fluttering eyelashes, a slight breathiness to his tone - but it was clear he was trying to hold it back, to make sure he didn’t make Solomon uncomfortable.

“You don’t make me feel like shit with what you say. Anymore, at least. I get it. You’re an asshole.” He shot a look at him from the corner of his eye, lips twitching into a smirk. “But a funny one. Good company. The kind you want on your side, even if he roasts you all the damn time.”

He assembled the burgers, each with a thick slice of cheddar he cut off an actual block, thank you very much, before scattering some green peppers on his plate. Let it never be said he didn’t try to eat a vegetable. Then, balancing the two plates on one arm as only a former waiter could do, he snagged Solomon around the neck with his other arm, inside of his elbow fitting right against the top of his spine.

“The best comedy. She says some of the grossest shit I’ve ever heard in my life. It’s legendary,” Jack said, and it was true. If there was anything he appreciated in his life, it was good comedy. People funnier than him were always the people he’d think were cool, no matter who they were.

When Noah told Jack that he’d been homeless, Jack felt his whole body clench up. It was probably easy to see from the expresison on Jack’s face, one of pain and hurt. “I’m happy you aren’t homeless anymore,” Jack said, his mind full of anger at the systems in place that allowed Noah to ever not have a safe place to sleep. He knew if he thought about it too deeply he’d see red, so he took a few deep breaths, “And you can joke about anything with me, even if it’s stuff like that. You’re allowed to bring levity to whatever you want. I mostly don’t like people being ignorant, calling people crackheads or whatever. But you’re entitled to your own experiences. That’s how I’ve always felt.” He didn’t mean to ramble, but sometimes the podcaster in him came out. He also didn’t mean to be so serious, but thankfully Noah came in and broke any tension.

Jack took a few deep breaths, and managed one of his usual stupid smiles. “High, always,” he said, pulling out the necessary paraphernalia from his pocket, “I swear it makes my reflexes better.”

Something about the tension on Jack’s face made Noah’s smile fade before the man even spoke. Had he gone too far? Said too much? He winced at the tightness of Jack’s voice, instinctively turning on the couch to face him if he had to smooth anything over.

“Hey, no, it’s fine, seriously, I-I...” Noah stared at the crafting supplies in Jack’s hand, heaving a sigh and rubbing the back of his neck. Might as well come out with it all, right? They were friends now.

And it had been a while since he spoke of it anyway. He couldn’t remember the last time. Even Alex didn’t know the full whole of it.

“I was, uh. Orphaned when I was just a toddler. Had a huge revolving door full of foster families who tried to convince me I was crazy for knowing I was trans.” His mouth pulled into a thin line. “Ended up at child psychologists, pastor offices, the whole nine yards to try to fix me, and then...there was a guy who wasn’t bad.” No, he couldn’t say a lot about Julius. Not yet. Maybe if encouraged, but the fondness there was still too raw. “He...took care of me. Got me my top surgery. Then passed while I was still recovering, and I-I...I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t go back to life without him in that shitty town. So I ran.

[bartender guy] At the risk of sounding clichéd… [bartender guy] I bet you say that to everyone.  [bartender guy] …..Annnnnnd, maybe I like it????? [bartender guy] Which means you should probably stop.  [bartender guy] I’ve been known to get… clingy.  [bartender guy] (Actually, don’t stop.) 

“'bout time you cottoned on,” solomon deadpanned, fixing noah with another lifted brow look. he was sure this kid was gonna deepen the wrinkles he already bloody had - between him and jack solomon’d look 50 within the fortnight. probably feel older, too - maybe he should start planning for bloody retirement. 

“hey, i can serve someone divorce papers and still wanna eat nice food - fuckin’ duality, mate. or somethin’,” solomon retorted, shaking her head. “i’m a glutton for punishment, clearly. i think i’m gonna start considerin’ this charity work, y’know? then at least it’ll be good for my conscience if nothing else.” 

“hey, hey. parsley’s great - don’t knock it. but ah, thanks for the sermon, pastor. i’ll be sure to take it all to heart.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can tell you’re listening so thoughtfully,” Noah fired back, lips still quirked. This was fine. The sooner he understood that Solomon threw a fuss that he never planned to cash in, he decided, the better.

As he babied the burgers, it took him a long while to figure out that he was wholly...content right now, actually. He laid buns out on plates, and considered the loneliness that had begun to plague him most days, how it had fallen away. He covered the burgers in condiments and fresh vegetables that he’d sliced earlier - a foolproof way to make sure he actually cooked tonight instead of eating ramen for the eightieth time - and recognized the subtle distance he felt with others falling more and more away.

“Y’know, I’m really glad you’re here.” If Noah felt something, why hide it? That was his prerogative. “Work’s been crazy, and, uh...I’ve had some...weird things happen I guess?” He waved it off. “A guy I was interested in who I keep fucking up with because I’m too much. Another dude who I was really hitting it off with who just disappeared on me suddenly. Busy friends.”

He leaned into the counter, lips quirked in more of a sad smile than anything. “I-I know it’s not your first choice to be here, but...it’s nice. Not having to be alone for the fifteenth night in a row. Not having to think I’m just...badly made, making everybody leave.”

“what’re you gonna do then, eh? wrestle me into submission then lock me in the basement?” solomon deadpanned, brows arching up slightly, a silent ‘really?’. “i think you’d need to put a few stone on to do that.”

not that solomon was all that bigger than noah vertically, but he certainly had some heft. more than noah had, at least - lent itself to his whole ‘twink’ thing, solomon guessed. clearly he knew how to play that whole thing up - something that only became more clear when the bottle touched his mouth. for fuck’s sake. 

“put it away, you,” solomon groused, rolling his eyes through noah’s little performance. “i’d call you a tart but i think you’re startin’ to take it as a compliment.” 

solomon set the beer bottle down with a soft thud when noah had drank his fill, throat bobbing as he swallowed it all down. solomon stepped away to fish his own beer from the counter, taking another sip. 

“good luck with that, pet,” he retorted, taking his spot at the counter back, lounging against it. “is now the time to tell you that my ex is a chef so i’ve got a very discernin’ palate?” 

“Never had such an unappreciative man when I give a show.” Noah touched his chest, mouth dropping in utter offense. “The audacity. Starting to think you don’t like me at all.”

He held his hand over the pan, testing the heat, then lobbed a bit of butter in to melt it down. “Listen, if your palate mattered to you, then he wouldn’t be your ex, would he?” Noah drawled. “No, sounds like your brain’s more important to you than your palate. Which begs the question why you’re still here. But I’m not gonna complain.”

“you what, mate?” solomon said, head cocking to the side. “since when have i given you any mixed bloody signals, eh? the cheek - unbelievable.”

solomon was clearly affronted, though partially in jest - noah seemed to have twigged to his sense of humour now, which made things a bit easier. “that’s fuckin’ bold, that is - hitting on you? how dare you. it’s all natural charisma, mate. i’m incredibly charming without even tryin’.” 

solomon finished his little telling off with a healthy swig of beer, having been using that hand to point a warning finger at noah. the cheek of it all, honestly. the absolute bloody cheek. 

“oh and now you want to be bottle fed as well? fuckin’ ‘ell,” solomon said, shaking his head with a rather put upon sigh. he set his own beer down, though, pushing off the counter to saunter over. he plucked up noah’s beer, stealing a sip for himself just to be a prick, before he lifted the bottle to noah’s mouth, cold rim of the bottle against his lower lip. 

“go on then. open up for me, pet.”

“Natural goddamn charisma, my ass,” Noah fired back. “Think I’m just finally starting to get the way of you. And now I’ve got you here in my lair. There’s no escape. Muahaha.” He didn’t even try to really make a laugh - practically just dryly spoke the syllables.

This was more fun, honestly, playing back and forth without a lick of shame, trusting now that Solomon wasn’t going to turn tail and flee. Was the flirting from Noah serious? Yeah, sure. But it was always serious, whether the person was indulging him or not.

When Solomon gave in, lifted the bottle to Noah’s lips, he unapologetically stuck his tongue out and ran it slowly, obscenely around the rim. He held Solomon’s gaze the entire time, eyes crinkling a little at the edge with his shithead grin before he wrapped full lips around it and tipped his head so he could take a few gulps, his throat pumping with it quickly so he didn’t gag on the beer.

Would’ve been a bit embarrassing.

“you’re fuckin’ twisted, mate. well twisted,” solomon retorted. “that’d do my fuckin’ head in, that would. and you’ve seen my car - i can’t even afford to be my own bloody sugar daddy, much less some tarty little bartender who’s torn between insultin’ me and tryin’ t’shag me.” 

he didn’t sway at the bump, instead shooting noah a little look, cutting his eyes at the young man a moment. he took the beer when offered, calloused fingers knicking against noah’s knuckles for a second before he drew away, beer now in hand. 

“thanks,” he said with a nod and a polite little smile, though that smile disappeared in blink when noah started talking about rubdowns. “not the sexiest of images, pet,” he chided with a soft tutting of his tongue, taking a rather large swig of his beer. “gonna have to take a hard pass on that offer. very kind of you, though.” 

solomon found a bit of counter to prop himself against after shrugging out of his jacket, left to hang on the back of a chair. he kept his beer in hand, free hand tucked into his elbow, arm crossed over his chest. 

“medium rare’s just fine,” he said with a short shrug. “y’want some help or somethin’?”

“Well, maybe he’s got mixed signals, huh?” Noah fired back, shooting him a grin that took any of the seriousness out of what he was saying. “Maybe when that tarty little bartender’s hitting on you, all you do is insult him, and maybe when he insults you, all you do is hit on him. Maybe he’s gotta stay in the middle so he gets all the good shit.”

Before he did anything messy, he took a swig of his own beer, then washed his hands thoroughly in the sink. “Dunno what’s not sexy about all your dead skin flaking off while I massage som-” He cut off for a sharp retch of his own, then laughed.

solomon waited for noah to scramble out of the car, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. it was still warm enough out, but it was good to have with him - gave him something to do with his hands that didn’t involve huffing on his vape or coddling his bloody beard. he was generally pretty fidgety and restless - knuckles cracked, cigarettes rolled and smoked in cycle, rings twisted and finger tips rubbed together. he’d always been that way, even as a child - it wasn’t even as if the energy was nervous, like it was some sort of deep-seated anxiety. it was just… energy, listless and distracted with no real purpose other than to fidget. 

he followed noah up the path - wasn’t the worst house on the block. good for him. he was careful to wipe off the soles of his boots before he stepped inside, one brow cocking up as he glanced around. wasn’t really a noah sort of space, but solomon didn’t imagine his landlord really wanted that sort of energy spilling over into the communal spaces. fair call, too, he thought, when noah opened his bedroom door. 

“noah, pet–christ. the clothes… i don’t–how do you even bloody function in that?” he said, clearly a little exasperated, hand gesturing to the piles of clothes on the floor. god, solomon’d lose his bloody head if he lived in a space like that - his mother had groomed him into quite a tidy person through sheer will. solomon’s own house was spick and bloody span - everything had a place. 

“you’re gonna give me a stress rash, mate. honestly.”

solomon continued to stare in what could only be considered disbelief until noah tugged him away, hand fitting around the thickness of his wrist. he goes with the tug without protest, shaking his head to himself as he’s dragged into the kitchen. 

“a beer would be lovely, pet. need it after that,” he said, tone turning teasing again. he shook his head at the offer of coffee - probably a good point in the day to stop with the caffeine. he wasn’t even sure it did anything to him any more, but probably good to try and put less in his system. 

“I function just fine, fuck off!” Noah fired back with a bright laugh. “Listen, if you wanna be my sugar daddy and buy me a hamper, go right ahead. But my floor works as a perfectly good one so I can keep tipping your staff above and beyond.” Noah bumped his hip against Solomon’s playfully as he passed him on his way to the fridge.

He leaned to snag two bottles of beer from the fridge, going to open them properly with a bottle opener in the drawer beside him before offering one to Solomon.

“If you need a good rubdown with some anti itch cream for that rash, you tell me, all right?” he drawled as sarcastically as he could while he went back for the other supplies.

the laugh was good - solomon always appreciated getting a laugh out of someone. even if it were just by making some sort of horrible noise. his gaze flickered back and forth between noah and the road ahead, watching as he covered the laugh by looking away. his expression turned a bit bemused, though, at the talk of sausages and squeezing. 

“christ almighty,” he murmured, shaking his head as he eased his car up to the curb, cutting the engine. “you’re fuckin’ terrible, you are. you’re lucky i got a strong stomach or i might’a lost my breakfast out the window.” weren’t much breakfast to lose, but solomon didn’t need to mention that. eating while working was a little difficult - eating right after waking up was near impossible. 

“why do people keep thinkin’ i look like a narc?” he muttered, half to himself, unhitching his belt with a roll of his eyes, cranking the window back up. it was a good natured complaint, though, smile playing about his mouth. 

“nothin’. don’t worry about it, eh? if i’m feelin’ up to it i might take you up on the smoke,” he said, shaking his head a little, stuffing his vape away before opening his door. he met noah’s gaze for a moment, flashing the bloke a grin before he hauled himself up and out of the car, shutting the door hard enough to make it rattle. 

“c’mon, then. gimme the grand tour then get to cookin’,” he said, cheeky little grin still on his mouth. 

Not for the first time, Noah felt as if he’d missed out on something that Solomon expected him to follow. Motives. What motives did people have for smoking? Extra cash, maybe, from selling? Just...just trying to...chill out?

He was still staring at Solomon in mild confusion when their eyes locked, when Solomon flashed him a smile as light and lovely as a true gift, and Noah only realized his mouth was hanging slightly open when Solomon left the car.

Yeah, okay, he’d definitely missed something, he just had to figure out how to get back to it, then.

Scrambling out of the car far less coolly than Solomon had - more half falling out of it like a newborn puppy - he hurried up the path to the nice, if not a little rundown, home. Southport wasn’t exactly known for its exceptional multimillion dollar houses, after all.

He unlocked the door and presented a quaint, well decorated living room. “So here’s where my landlord sits,” Noah said, gesturing, already heading further down the hall toward the quaint, well decorated dining room and kitchen. “Here’s where my landlord eats. Down there,” he said, pointing all the way to the end of the hall. “That’s where my landlord shits and sleeps, and...” He opened the first door in the hall. “Here’s where I do literally everything, since it’s the only damn room I rent.” Noah grinned.

How could he not? The rest of the house was perfectly cleaned, like a dollhouse only slightly down on its luck, and then there was Noah’s room, with a veritable mountain of dirty clothes in the corner, posters of musicians and memes all over the walls, a desk covered in sheet music, and a bed that was frankly obscene in size, taking up most of the floor space. More than a bit suggestive of where he spent most of his time.

solomon sucked his teeth, shooting noah a look through a cloud of vapour. really classy, that solomon. “exactly. don’t want you twistin’ my bloody words,” he retorted, eyes flickering back to the road, the mouthpiece of his vape settling back between his lips. bit stupid, really, the whole vape thing. it helped, though - he’d cut back a lot on his smoking, which was a bit good. saved him some money, stopped him smelling like an ashtray at work. all positives. 

solomon can’t muffle the snort he makes at noah’s words - the sound is closely followed by a very appealing fake retching sound. mm. nice. he dropped the vape into his lap, hand curling back around the stick to slot through gears, another glance shot in noah’s direction. 

“you’re gonna make me lose my appetite, talkin’ like that,” he teased, though a small smile was brewing at one corner of his mouth. “burgers don’t sound half-bad, though.”

an enquiring brow cocked at the mention of weed, amusement colouring his expression. 

“you got ulterior motives, pet?”

The gag was frankly incredible comedic timing, and Noah burst out laughing, trying to cover his mouth to hide his big, stupid grin as he looked out the window. “Could’ve been worse. Could’ve talked about making you sausages, asking you to help me shape them with your big hands~” He shook his head and shot him another look, finding himself quite unable to stop. “Squeeze too hard, all the filling shoots out, ruins the fun, y’know? That shit? I’m a regular comedian, you should be paying me for this.”

Even still, there was something about the way Solomon said that last line, asking about motives, that drew confusion over his face.

“I, uh...no? I don’t think so?” He shook his head with a furrowed brow and a small smile. “Mostly seeing if you weren’t into it, I guess. Some narc or something.” Noah shrugged. “No, I, like, I smoke weed when I’m sad, when I’m happy, when I’m bored, alone, with friends...it’s just a social thing that I think is pretty chill?” He was doing it more often now with the influence of Jack, but there was nothing wrong with that.

solomon settled back in his seat, cranking the window down - that spoke enough for the car’s age, the crank handles in place of buttons. he liked it, though - he’d been charmed by it the second he’d seen it. it’d been painted orange, for christ’s sake - some inner tacky bit of solomon had deeply appreciated that touch. the orange paint was a little faded, sure. but he thought it quite charming. 

once noah was buckled up solomon started the car, hand coming to settle on the back of noah’s seat as he reversed out of his space, fingers settling in the gap between the bottom of the headrest and the top of the actual seat, almost brushing the collar of noah’s shirt. he muttered a quite ‘sorry’, swiveling back in his seat when he was out, hand dropping away to settle on the gearshift. there was a moment that he sat, digging for his vape before he pulled out. felt a bit rude, smoking with someone in the car - the vape and a wound down window would have to do. wasn’t quite the same, but it scratched enough of the nicotine itch to placate solomon somewhat. 

the directions were easy enough to follow - he tugged on his vape between gear changes, fingers tapping absently against the wheel. “i’m pretty easy,” solomon replied with a shrug of one shoulder. he twigged as to what he’d said a moment later - shot noah a warning look, not wanting to give him any bloody openings. 

“whatever you want, pet. no matter what you do i can guarantee i’ve eaten worse.”

The contact on the back of Noah’s seat was only alarming because Solomon seemed hyperaware of it. The apology he uttered was what brought Noah rocketing back into those few seconds, becoming aware of the warmth of Solomon’s hand only a few centimeters away, of the--

Be good, he thought, already aware that he was incorrigible, that he’d thrown that decision right out the window.

Solomon provided a damn lovely opportunity for Noah to comment, and he got as far as opening his mouth before he caught the look and snapped his jaw shut so quickly his teeth clicked painfully. He snorted. “You said it, not me,” he mumbled, drumming fingers on the violin case in his lap.

“All right. Guess I’ll slick up my hands, start slapping some meat around.” He paused, glancing Solomon’s way, just to read his expression. “Make everything good and spicy, you know? And then we’ll have burgers. Actual decent homemade burgers - and probably a beer, because, y’know, I’m me, and it’s sunset in like three hours anyway.”

Listening, Jack leaned into the couch. He did like to learn, at the end of the day–he’d just never done well in classroom settings. There was too much of an audience, so he had the tendency to goof off. Stuff like this, talking one on one, was much better for him. He was happily surprised that Noah liked him–maybe his record wasn’t so “problematic” after all. What a relief.

“Yeah definitely send me comics. I’m trying to get a good roster going. I did just have Patti Harrison on the show last month, she’s trans. She’s the funniest person I’ve ever met, I swear to god,” Jack reveled. She really was something.

Jack nodded. Losing small dick jokes wasn’t a huge loss. Jack preferred the self-deprecating small dick jokes but either way he could cut it from his comedy vocabulary around his friend–like he said, Jack didn’t want to participate in microaggressions.

“You’re not rambling, we all have our shit,” Jack said, “I don’t like being called a bum or homeless jokes or whatever. That’s my thing. And  I don’t tend to rely on small dick jokes.”

Jack just waved dismissively at being thanked for listening. In his mind, it was the least he could do.

“Patti Harrison.” Noah said the name, desperate to remember it. “All honesty, you’re the only political podcast comedy thingamabob I actually follow now, so I’ve, uh, gotta look her up. She do comedy? Good on her.” Hard enough getting into the comedy scene, from what he understood, being queer. Even worse to be divergent in other ways. Good on her.

He did glance over at the comment Jack made about homeless jokes, quirking a brow. “I’m, uh, actually glad you said that.” He chuckled. “I’ve been homeless before, so sometimes it just...the jokes come out. Gotta deal with the trauma and shit somehow, you know? If you hadn’t said anything, I probably would’ve said something shitty later on.”

solomon frowned a bit when noah sort of apologised - he hadn’t meant to be taken so seriously, but there he went, doing his serious bloody face and saying things that were read the wrong way. typical of him, honestly - he were sure it was the beard, making him seem a lot meaner than he was. 

“hey, hey. i know pet, sorry,” he said, brushing off noah’s words with a wave of one hand. “don’t bloody–” he sighed when noah tucked away more money. “i wasn’t bein’ serious, alright? save your money.”

he chewed the inside of his lower lip a moment, though his serious manner dropped when noah talked about liking his bossiness. “you think i’d be complaining so much if i liked it?” he shot back, cutting his eyes at noah. “oh, lemme go get my violin, eh? piss off.” 

he was smiling a bit, though, amusement clear in the creases at the corners of his eyes. he shook his head, muttering something about noah being a little tart under his breath. it took him only a few minutes to sort things out - a quick word to the staff left and a quick sweep behind the machine and he was away, shrugging into his jacket as he stepped out the door. 

“oi, you,” he called, pausing a moment to drag on his vape which he’d procured from his pocket. “my car’s round back. c’mon, before i change my mind.” 

he took another big chuff as he turned, marching off, expecting noah to chase up behind him. it was a short walk to his car - down a side street and into the back entrance, the small lot shared by the few businesses that neighboured each other. wasn’t really very glamorous, a few cars and a couple of dumpsters pushed up against brick walls. solomon dug in his pockets for his keys as he marched over to his car - a beat up old bmw 2002, bit dinged with faded paint. he liked it well enough, even if it looked a bit shabby. 

“y’need me to stop anywhere?” he asked, eyes flickering to noah before he hauled himself into the car, leaning over to unlock the passenger door so noah could get in. the internal lock was a bit fucked, but he didn’t often have passengers other than the dogs. 

It didn’t take long - only a few minutes of sipping his coffee and enjoying the breeze, asking himself what he was doing. Noah had come here with one thought in mind: asking Solomon out for drinks. Now what? He was making him some lunch? Having a quieter, more intimate night in his own room?

Home, he reminded himself. No landlord for another two days. Just a whole house to himself, to feel bold and grand in rather than an utter failure.

Before his mind could wander any more maudlin, Solomon appeared, and Noah lit up with a bright grin, as eager as a puppy. He came to his feet and followed after him quickly.

“Nah, I’ve got everything we need,” Noah replied, scrambling into the car and getting strapped in safely. “Not far off either, just, uh...yeah.” He pointed. “That way.”

“your wallet doesn’t know that though, does he?” solomon retorted. “yeah, well. don’t come cryin’ to me when you’re skint, eh? i’ll be in the same bloody boat.” 

his brows cocked up when noah mentioned hitting on his employees - he made a low, unimpressed noise in the back of his throat at the wink, too. “oi oi. none of that - you leave ‘em alone. you don’t wanna know how many people i’ve personally escorted out for chattin’ up my kids.” 

solomon did feel a little fatherly towards some of his employees, in a way. a couple of the casuals were still in high school, part timers barely out of it. for some of them it was their first proper job, and solomon tried to look out for them. he’d been there - the bloke had been working since he was old enough to do anything, really. he knew the type of shit these kids got thrown at them. 

“she’s barely outta bloody high school, that one. leave ‘er well alone,” solomon continued, nodding his head to the worker who noah’d winked at. she cut her eyes at solomon before turning away to busy herself refreshing the change in the till. good kid. 

“has anyone ever told you that you’re fuckin’ bossy?” solomon griped, as if he’d forgotten all the times he’d personally told noah that. he rolled his eyes a little, swiping the rag he’d thrown at noah earlier up off the counter, polishing away another little spot on the machine. 

“you’ll make me lunch, eh? got you feelin’ a bit domestic, do i?” solomon continued, tone a little teasing now. “christ, alright. give me a couple’a minutes - finish the bloody coffee, let me sort some stuff out. then we’ll go, alright?” 

Solomon’s immediate disapproval of what Noah had intended as a joke made Noah’s eyebrows skyrocket, and he glanced back at the girl, then back at Solomon, leaving his coffee and violin case both on the counter as he lifted his hands in surrender. “Hey, hey, was a joke. Clearly a bad one.” As if to prove it, he held Solomon’s gaze, lips quirking just a bit as he took out his wallet and tucked in two more dollars as penance. “Dude, I’m a bartender, I know how it feels to be hit on when you’re at work and can’t say no without risking your tip. Trust me, I wouldn’t do it to a perfect stranger, especially not a kid.”

Solomon was, however, exempt. Solomon, whether he liked it or not, had already slotted himself into the role of confusing friend, someone who both encouraged and discouraged the flirting based on whatever his mood appeared to be at the time.

“C’mon, as if you don’t like it when I’m bossy,” he fired back, as if to prove his own thoughts right.