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“I know,” Nox said, smiling again as he picked up one of the pieces and changed the subject. “What is it about tavern-cut pizza? Why is it easier to eat a whole pie if it’s square and in little slices?”
“Maybe it’s magick,” Nelson guessed, making Nox giggle as he chewed.
“It tastes pretty magickal. How’s the soup?” Nox asked as he folded another slice and opened wide.
“It’s fine.” Nelson ate the whole bowl and both packets of crackers and finished his salad.
“Anything else I can get for you gentlemen?” their server asked as she left their bill and gathered their plates.
Nelson gave a tight shake of his head. “Everything was fine.” It was his taciturn way of saying he had a pleasant time and Nox beamed up her.
“Everything was lovely,” Nox said, but his smile faded when a large, glaring man slid off a stool at the bar and tottered in their direction. He’d been casting disgusted looks while they ate and Nox suspected he wanted to approach them but had required a little more liquid courage, first.
“What’s your story?” he slurred loudly, as he flapped in their direction.
Their server looked mortified, blushing a deep red and looking around for help. Nox started to rise to tell him off, but Nelson cleared his throat and there was another faint shake of his head.
“What’s our story?” Nelson asked calmly, so Nox sat back, raising a brow at the other man and daring him.
He was either too drunk or too stupid to sense that the room was not with him as other patrons and servers shook their heads or averted their eyes. And Nelson—unlike their server and the other patrons—was not in the least bit intimidated by the man’s larger stature. “You two are clearly queers but what’s your story? Is the freak the catcher?”
“Get out, Carl!” their server ordered as she pointed at the door.
“Nah,” he waved her off and nodded at Nelson. “I want to know if that official-looking dickhead is the pitcher or the catcher.”
Nelson blinked at the table for a moment, as if he didn’t understand the crude question, then slowly opened his coat, revealing the holster at his side. “I’ll tell you a story,” Nelson said as he reached into the inside pocket and removed his wallet and flipped it open so his badge and credentials were visible while he counted out cash for their bill. “It’s about a man who went back to the bar and minded his own damn business and wasn’t arrested for public intoxication and harassing a federal agent on his lunch break.”
“Jeez. Guess it’s a crime to ask a question now,” the other man said, raising his hands as he backed away. He tripped on his own feet and toppled onto his ass, resulting in loud cheers and clapping and someone offered to buy Nelson a drink.
“So perfect!” Nox exchanged pleased looks with the server, as he stood and went to help the drunken buffoon. “Let me give you a hand.” Nox smiled with wicked glee as he pulled the man to his feet and stepped close so he could whisper. They were in a family establishment, after all. “Since you’re so curious...” Nox licked his thumb and quickly wiped between the other man’s brows before he could dodge Nox or punch him. “Every time you close your eyes you’re going to see me gagging around his thick, official dick or me naked and riding him like he’s your father.”
“God! Fuck!” He pushed Nox away, horrified. “Get away from me!”
“Gach oíche,”1 Nox promised, setting his intentions with a clear, queer heart.
“Time to go,” Nelson called from the door.
Nox winked and wiggled his brows suggestively. “I am so ready,” he said and hurried to catch up with Nelson.
“What did you say to him?” Nelson asked as he held the door for Nox.
“He has a burning need to know, Nelson, and so he shall. Every night until I say his name.”
Nelson stopped and swung back to the pub, looking conflicted as he whispered “Every night?” He grimaced as he pulled his keys from his pocket and headed for the Continental and Nox’s door. “Did you get his name? She said it was—”
“Shhh!” Nox said as he lowered into his seat, smiling beatifically as Nelson shut the door and went around to his side.
“Every night, though?” he asked after he buckled his belt and started the engine. “He probably deserves worse, but I don’t want to be in his head like that ever, let alone every night.”
“I don’t know… We’re pretty hot.”
“Nox.”
“Fine, but I’m going to let him stew for a couple of days first,” Nox said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I suppose a couple of days isn’t that bad,” Nelson conceded before Nox saw his lips twitching. “We are pretty hot,” he said quietly.
“That’s what I’m saying. I’m glad we took a little detour to the Stained Glass Pub, even if it wasn’t the kind of pub you were hoping it would be.”
