#redheaded gunslinger;thread

Finally, a gig that didn’t involve killing people. Vince slid a shot of whiskey down to a guy sitting further down the bar, flashing the man a grin. The guy was already halfway to wasted, and Vince was making good money tonight. 

The redhead wiped his hands off on the towel hanging over his shoulder. It was stained with other drinks, since he was doing his best to keep his shirt clean. He didn’t often dress nice, in all black with a nice button down spread open at the collar, but the job required it. 

Vince wasn’t sure why Swess always kept so much hair in his face. The half of his face that was typically visible was always nice to look at, so as far as Vince was concerned, the blond didn’t really have anything to hide. The redhead moved without thinking, his hands reaching out-- practically on its own accord-- to move a sheaf of hair away from the other male’s face.

His eyes widened as Swess caught his hand, but his expression softened into a crooked smile at the smooth feeling of the blond’s fingers. So soft compared to the rough texture of Vince’s hands. The kiss made his heart twinge, in a way that wasn’t good or bad but almost gave him a stomach ache.

Vince had come to be a rather frequent guest at Swess’s apartment. This was partially because Vince never stayed at a nice hotel. He typically couldn’t afford it, and all the crisp white bedsheets and sweet smelling candles made him uncomfortable. He didn’t belong in that world. He belonged in the world of cracked windows and smoke-stained walls, but Swess wasn’t a fan of that. The redhead had been on the receiving end of many scoldings about his living arrangements.

The main reason, however, that Vince was over often was simply because he liked Swess. He liked being around the other male, and he couldn’t really explain it. The feeling was just there, and even though it made him want to throw up, he was going to stick it out for as long as he could.

He was there when Swess got home from work, having just used the smaller male’s shower. His auburn hair was still damp and drying into curls. He had pulled on a t-shirt and sweats, and he still smelled of steam and Swess’s shampoo as he carried the blond up to his bedroom. Vince smiled and chuckled, speaking quietly.

Vince hadn’t actually expected a sympathetic response, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t appreciated.

He let out a heavy breath through his nose and ran a hand through his auburn curls, giving the woman next to him a crooked smile. 

Vince looked between the two drinks, dark eyes darting in a triangle between the drinks and the woman’s face. Part of him desperately wanted to reach out and take the hot chocolate. It would warm his callused, rough hands, and it would taste oh so sweet. But life had never been sweet for him before, and inevitably, his hand curled around the shot of whiskey. He downed it quickly, setting the glass back down and arching a brow.