Freddie

@smoothxoldfashioned

     the night of their planned dinner was here before she knew it, and she was still standing in the middle of her closet wearing only her underwear. even those she wasn’t sure about. arguing that it would only be dinner and they were only going to talk, she tried to ignore that aspect of her preparation. hands balled into fists at her side, she stared at the row of clothing like they had morphed into one giant monster. “I can’t do this, I can’t do this,” she chanted as she attacked. the last time she’d been on a proper, sit down dinner, the guy texted his sister fifteen minute interval updates. updates to his sister! and he wasn’t even interested in anything she had to say; he just noted every one of her reactions to his stories. dating was rough all around, bev understood that. 

     she went through the motions of a few tragedies, but the worst was when she actually was attached to the outcome. that history was seriously checkered. sighing, she stepped into a nice dress, deep purple, and checked her face in the mirror. the heels were by her bed, and a knock on her door came just as she was putting her earrings in. “just a minute!” jogging over to the bed, she quickly shoved her feet into the shoes then high stepped over to the door. “hi,” she greeted with a warm smile. “I’m ready,” she lied. “I just need to grab my purse.” 

The bearded male spent most of his afternoon working out or in the ring. Blowing off steam. Yeah. He was nervous. Nervous to the point that he couldn’t sit still. He hadn’t been on a date in...well...since secondary school maybe? Not a formal one at least. And that was over twenty years ago in England, everything was different there customs all of it. His hand, though wrapped up looked like it’d been mangled during his boxing. Standing in the shower he watched it swell further. Fuck. He muttered to himself the last thing he’d wanted to do was show up to her place and look a wreck. Which was what led him to the next step. Standing in front of the mirror, over the sink he took out some clippers, and his razor. Maybe in a way he hid behind the beard. As the clippers sounded he cleaned everything up and made his way to the closet. Uniforms, and uniforms and uniforms, shitty old tshirts and hoodies. He stood, walking it off a bit, start with the underwear he told himself. Easy. Then a pair of dark jeans, fitted, boot cut, looked nice. The shirt...shirt was the hardest. After messing with his hair, taking the flowers Cassie told him to bring and let the door to his place close behind him he made his way to Bev’s. Waiting, relaxed, you got this he told himself, if she can break your fingers back into place a date should be harmless. Painless, hopefully. If not she could just resort to fixing his hand...again. “Bloody hell Bevs you look stunning,” he smiled leaning in to give her a kiss on each cheek before handing her the flowers. “I’m glad you didn’t go with any higher of a heel or you’d be towering over me, and that does little for my bloody ego,” he let out a soft laugh. Easy. You got this. He told himself offering his arm to her. “Where we headed?” He asked looking at her, then slowly smirked. “Nah, I got it.” With that he led the two of them out of Votive and onto the bustling sidewalk. Taking his time as he wandered with her towards the park and a tiny place with a British flag hanging just outside. “When I first came over, I was homesick, and all I kept thinkin was if I could find pies, or fish n chips, then I’d be home, so, I hope you don’t mind a little trip to England, love.”

It was a crack that resounded throughout her entire body. She stood there in silence before taking a step back, another step back, two more till she was far enough for him to not see the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to stop her lip from quivering, but she couldn’t seem to. She was a fool. Truly, she had read everything all wrong. Of course he didn’t see her that way. Who would? Of course she had read into things. She always does. Of course he wouldn’t want her. Hell, nobody ever does, it seems. She felt so small all of a sudden, and still, Fred was being amazing about it, when in reality, it had been her to put him in such an awkward situation. 

“No, no, don’t… don’t apologize.” She said quietly, eyes glued to the floor. “I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have kissed you. I…” He was right. She was just a young girl and he… God, it was all making sense now, why would he ever want someone so absolutely messy like her. She couldn’t help but chuckle morosely at her foolishness. 

“I’m so sorry.” She said with a shake of her head, running a hand through her hair. “I’m an idiot, my god, don’t… Just forget everything I said.” She said with a forced laugh before finally looking up at him. It still hurt her that he… he still looked like her future. “I’ll see you later, Fred.” She said quietly before forcing herself to walk away. 

Stupid. stupid. stupid. 

It would hurt more if his hand reached out. If it took hers and told her everything would be alright. It wouldn’t not with him, not right now. Life was messy, complicated, confusing. But right there her lips lingered on his still. The only place he wanted to be was in the middle of a fight. A physical pain was easier than the pain of watching her walk away. Taking a slow, steady breath he rubbed his face and cleared his throat. This was better, right now, for the both of them. However much it hurt to watch her walk away there couldn’t help but be a bit of a relief. The feelings had been out in the open, and cards were on the table. Timing wasn’t right, and to be completely honest with himself he didn’t know if he harbored feelings, the type of feelings she wanted, or just wanted to fuck her. Damn this place. He was there to protect the escorts, not hurt them. He’d wait, maybe eventually she’d get what and who she needed. Until then, he’d give her her space. With that, he settled on the idea of drinking alone and passing out back in his room.

     Tilly took a shower. She washed her hair. Brushed it. She went through the motions in order to tug the night out of her skin and put in something far more comforting. And suddenly… a knock on the door. Tilly had questioned whether or not Freddie was actually going to come back. Her hair was wet – but at least it wasn’t from sex anymore – and called out a, “Just a second!!!” as she rushed through her room for something to wear. What she found, in her quick frantic search, was a matching pair of pink pajamas, little designs on them, short sleeves and shorts. It showed off her limbs, but for Tilly, was relatively modest, and the girl all but skipped over to the door to peek through the hole. And there he was, sipping from a bottle of… what was that. Bourbon? Tilly opened the door quickly, smile bright. “You should know that I’m too young to drink.” She took the bottle from him anyway, snatching it from his hands, as she stepped aside to let Fred enter. “I’m alright, yeah. I was going to make ramen and watch a movie. Thrilling, I know, but that’s me. Thrilling. Do you want a glass for this?” She held up the bottle and tilted it from side to side, liquid sloshing within it. “I don’t mind drinking from it like heathens, but it’s polite to offer.”

“Right, which is why the bottles for me and the ice cream is for you,” he pointed out with a cheeky grin. His usually pale skin a rosy color from the sips...well...more like gulps of alcohol. “Oi, nuh uh, I forbid underage drinking,” he joked lightly. “Mmm bottle and two spoons. Lets be heathens tonight, yea? I’ve got the rest of the night off and tomorrow free as well so this old man can have a hangover all day,” he smiled. “Quite bloody looking forward to it too,” he stated gruffly before taking a seat on her couch relaxing back. God if felt good to sit down. A slight yawn escaped his lips as he set the carton of ice cream and bottle of bourbon down on the coffee table. Rubbing his face slightly he winced at the pain of his broken pinky. “Good to see you in better spirits, love,” he offered. “I figured out which twat tried that shit with you, I’ve got him banned,” he reached forward taking another swig. “What movie?”

When he mentioned Cassidy, his heart sank. He played it cool though, making sure to be there for his friend since he needed it. “Wait so… you asked Bev out and yet you feel bad for turning Cassidy down? Kinda sounds like you want both women.” He looked at him with judgy eyes, finishing his Guinness and then asking for a whiskey straight. “And don’t you worry about my drinks, I know what I like.” He smirked. “I was fuckin named after whiskey, don’t test me, mate.”

“Oi, piss off with the fake accent shite,” he laughed then nodded. “Uh, yes, that’s why I said I was in fuckin bloody crisis mode,” he muttered putting his head on the bar. “Cassidy is stubborn, and won’t give up,” he muttered, rubbing his face before looking back at Jameson. “I feel like there could really be something there between me n Bev...I don’t know,” he sighed. “Maybe I just, don’t touch either and keep wanking in the shower.”

She rolled her eyes as he went to go eat and then get dressed. “Seriously!? Can’t you go in the other room and do that, you butt head.” She rolled her eyes. “What did Anne Hathaway ever do to you!?” she asked, giggling. She scrolled through and found the first Bourne film. “How about this one? Good enough? I’m just glad you’re not one of those guys who likes those stupid Fast and Furious films. I fucking hate how bad they were! Aren’t they on like… the 20th one now?” she smirked, scoffing. She placed her free hand to rest on his shins and looked over at him. “Comfy?” she asked, a sarcastic tone to her voice.

“Butthead?” He half asked as he chewed, adjusting himself slightly. “That one of them Yank sayings?” He laughed, “Wanka, knob, tosser, twat, those are all acceptable but butthead?” Fred’s brow arched. “No. Not realistic,” he offered up about the fast and the furious films, “Also, wait, no, yeah I don’t like those,” he yawned slightly as he rubbed his eyes. “Just bloody hate Anne Hatheway seems like a cunt, yes, I am, very comfy, thank you for asking,” he smiled shoving his hands across his chest to snuggle even further into the couch. He knew he’d fall asleep but he wasn’t letting on just yet. “Or we can watch whatever you want,” he turned a little propping himself up with one of the sham decorative pillows on the couch. “Oi, you the big spoon tonight, love?”

     she was startled at first by his change. her defenses immediately wanted to fight back and confirm all her worst fears–that his spontaneous show of affection was just that, spontaneous. his arm around her and the warmth of him battled against that negativity. it felt so good that he stayed, that he was trying to… what? relax her. make her happy. she took a deep breath and smiled back at him even with the clouds in her eyes. “yes,” she found herself saying. “we should talk.” talking was good. they could really get down to the details and all the answers she had questions for. it felt reassuring that he wanted to work it out too. she reached out for his chest, hesitantly. her fingers curled back against her palm as if she didn’t know whether or not she were allowed. then she placed her hand over his heart. was it beating like hers? fast and scared and so, so alive. “it’s ok for you not to smile if you don’t feel it, fred,” she whispered. it was like she were thinking out loud instead of speaking to him. practice, she supposed, for their dinner together. she looked up at him, meeting his gaze. “it’s ok if you’re not ok. I can help you.” 

The hesitation made him nearly buckle. He hadn’t felt...nervous like this around a woman in ages. Made him feel like a bloody school boy that needed to go home and play video games and forget about anything that happened. But the thing was he’d didn’t want to forget it. He didn’t want to forget the way her hands felt against him or the way she looked at him with a confused, bewilderment. It was like the two had been floating around for years waiting for any kind of connection or tether to the world. And before the two could think about it each of their worlds had collided making an interesting magnetism neither could accept or deny. When her hand placed against his chest he nearly forgot how to breathe holding his breath. Could she feel just how his own heart nearly jumped into her grasp? What did made him breathe, though, were her next words. Words he’d never heard someone say, at least not here, not since he’d been in America that it was okay for him to not smile. He did though. He smiled for others to show them they were worthy of love, or compassion, or respect. That they deserved help, or protection. She saw something different in him. And for the first time in his life someone had offered to help him. Slowly his arms wrapped around her. It was comfortable, she felt like home, just as she had every time he’d come in with a cracked rib or a possible concussion. “Let me help you too...promise?” He bit his lip slightly. “You’re letting me take you on a date, you liiike me,” he teased. 

When Freddie mentioned he needed help, he agreed. “Yeah sure, buddy. Whatever you need. Let me just go tell the others I’m heading out early.” He smirked, walking back in with him and letting the other bartenders know he was heading out. He went in the back, clocked out, and grabbed his things and then met Freddie back out. They walked over to Julian’s and Jameson ordered a Guinness and then looked over at Freddie when he spoke. “Girl problems. Got it. Lay em on me.” He took a sip of his beer and gave his friend his undivided attention.

“Oi, I have a bloody girl problem and you order a fekin’ Guinness, something that has the same amount of alcohol in it as orange juice,” he muttered under his breath. First shot went down easy, then the second, the third. And, ordering a double bullet on the rocks with lime was where he felt most comfortable. Rubbing his face. He needed a shave. He knew bossman would be quick to remind him to reference the manual. As if he cared. “Cassidy, made me almost break my rule,” he looked over at the other. “I didn’t...I feel like shit though, letting her down,” he sighed. Soon he’d nearly pulled the entire hoodie over his face except for the center where he was still able to drink his drink. “And I asked Beverly out on a date. Am I a monster?”

“Oh geeze, you and your spy movies.” She smirked, walking with him. It was funny. If she could go back in time and tell herself then that this man would be like a dad or a big brother to her, she would have scoffed and probably pouted considering she had tried right off the bat to bed Freddie. But she was so glad where their friendship had gone. There weren’t a lot of men throughout her life she knew for a fact she could trust and she was glad Freddie was someone she could trust. He mean so much to her. “I think we can find what you’re looking for. Were you thinking… maybe one of the Mission Impossible movies?” She smirked as he put his head on her shoulder. She knew he wouldn’t stay awake for the movie and she’d end up letting him do it. That was just how they were. Although, it would be nice for the older man to stay awake during at least one movie.

“Mmm yeah sure onea those, or like the Jason Bourne ones,” he yawned slightly. “What’s on Netflix?” He asked as the two entered her place. He always kept a pair of PJs there just out of habit. “You pull up the TV,” he muttered as he went through her fridge searching for the leftover cold pizza. Lifting up the lid and smiling once he saw half of the margarita pizza left. Sandwiching two slices together he took a bite as he tugged down his pants and shoes. Chewing he pulled up a pair of gray sweats and started in on unbuttoning his shirt, kicking his pants to the corner. Making his way back towards where she’d set up her spot on the couch it was nice for the Head of Security to actually sit down and relax. As he did so the distant throbbing in his arm reared its ugly head. Yea, he was in pain. Would he say anything about it? Probably not. Letting his legs drift to lay across Cass’ lap he watched her scroll. “Not that one, bloody hate Anne Hathaway.”

She gripped at the back of his neck as he buried his face in her neck, breathing him in a sense of relief that he was no longer pushing her away like before. She shouldn’t be doing this to him… But god, she wanted to be selfish. She felt herself grow warm as she molded the contours of her body to his as she pressed her nose against his neck. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth before pulling away slightly, eyes meeting his and gaze darting down to his lips. 

“Say you want me.” She murmured, lips hovering a centimeter over his. “Because I want you.” 

Before she could even think, her tongue darted out to lick at his lips like a kitten before she brushed her lips against his, hesitant and teasing. “I’m a mess, Freddie, but you can have me now if you want me.” 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. His head stay there for a moment hidden from sight. In all truth, in all reality in all realms he would rather cut his own arm off with a saw and not seek any sort of help than make any kind of choice. He wanted her happy. It was hard. And half of it he could never explain to her, or anyone. His time in the UK, special forces, MI5, the royal fuck up that made him change his name. He was dead and he was still walking wounded there at the Votive, as many others were. Yes, he wanted her, he wanted to fuck her, to show her that a woman could be treated like a woman and appreciated, but he had his rule for a reason. Granted, the rule was one before she’d started working there. Cassidy was captivating. She was funny, she was dainty, girly, he respected her, but she was young. She needed to find herself and he needed someone who could tell him everything would be okay. Someone who had been through lifes curve balls. He couldn’t always be the one protecting. And then she kissed him. Then, she offered herself to him, again. It was like a broken record. Had she not heard him at all? Had she not listened, like truly listened to his needs? He let her kiss him before cupping her cheeks. “I care about you Cass, I care about you achieving your dreams, being who you were meant to be and supporting you to be the person we both know you are. I will be there for you, I’ll meet you half way, I’ll hold your hand and eat ice cream and let you cry on my shoulder but we need...we want different things. I made a promise to myself...no escorts, and I’m sorry if I lead you on and I know how much this hurts or will hurt you and you can hate me, you can punch me or talk shit about me or go....make a punching bag with my bloody face on it. But I’m 41, I’ve been at 23, and I’ve been at figuring myself out.  I can’t be with you...at least not now.”