Proper restroom etiquette
He doesn't look up when the door opens and the drawled, "hey," startles him a little. He looks up - absently thinking that it's not proper restroom etiquette to greet people - when he sees a slightly familiar face. "Hey," he mutters then looks away again.
The man - Patrick can't remember his name but does remember talking to him briefly - chooses the urinal right next to his, and this truly isn't proper restroom etiquette when no one's using any of the other stalls. Just in case he finishes quickly and zips up fast.
Just as he's washing his hands and thinking he'll be able to get out of the restroom without further conversation, he feels the man's eyes resting on him.
"You sure you're not related to Jason?" the man asked in a slurred voice.
"Pretty sure," Patrick replies as he straightens and dries his hands.
"Because you do look just like him, you know."
"I know," he replies curtly, hoping his tone will tell the man he'd better shut up now.
But the guy's not taking the hint, probably too drunk to notice, "It's not a bad thing of course - Jason's pretty hot, you know."
"Right."
"So that makes you pretty hot too - " And Patrick's not sure he heard the man zip up or flush but all of a sudden he's standing right behind him and Patrick regrets not having walked out without washing his hands.
"Does it now?" he says, their gazes locking in the bathroom mirror.
"It does," the man - Ray or Roy, Patrick's not sure and wonders why he even cares - says. "So - "
"So?" Patrick asks, feeling his body go rigid and he's not sure why he's not moving when all he wants to do is get the hell out of here.
The man - Patrick's pretty sure it's Roy - steps closer and Patrick can feel the man's warm breath against his skin, can smell the alcohol on his breath. "So, I was just thinking we could - "
But he can't - he doesn't want to - yet he's still not moving, just registering how his breath is coming faster and faster and how his hands have curled up into fists.
"You wanna?" Roy asks, and Patrick thinks he can hear a hint of doubt in the man's voice for the first time.
"No," he manages to get out through gritted teeth.
"You don't?" Arms slide around him and slip dangerously close to his groin. "You sure about that?"
"Aye - " he says in an oddly small voice, almost forgetting who's standing behind him: because it doesn't matter who it is, or what the guy wants. He's not going to let that happen; not again; not here ;not now. The man presses his groin against Patrick's arse and Patrick groans, a low, frustrated groan escaping his lips and he curses himself, because it doesn't exactly sound like he doesn't want it, now does it? No wonder people always think he's so bloody easy.
Roy chuckles softly. "I think you do - you're just afraid to admit it. Come on - " He grinds his cock against Patrick and moves his hands up to Patrick's belt. "You want this - you wouldn't be here if you didn't - "
His breath catches in his throat and for a split second he wonders if Roy is right - he can't move, all his muscles now tense and his breath becoming ragged, wonders if this'll ever stop. Looks into the mirror and he doesn't see Roy's face, sees another - more familiar - face and that's when he remembers.
It won't stop.
Not if he'll continue to let people - let David do this to him. And when Roy's hands, clumsily, starts fumbling with the buckle of his belt, something snaps inside of him, he can't take the chance again. The chance of losing Brendan. All of a sudden he can move - without realizing it he's turned around and before the surprised look that crosses Roy's face even registers his fist connects with the man's jaw and he sways, then stumbles and hits the floor.
"I said no, didn't I?"
The man - Patrick can't remember his name but does remember talking to him briefly - chooses the urinal right next to his, and this truly isn't proper restroom etiquette when no one's using any of the other stalls. Just in case he finishes quickly and zips up fast.
Just as he's washing his hands and thinking he'll be able to get out of the restroom without further conversation, he feels the man's eyes resting on him.
"You sure you're not related to Jason?" the man asked in a slurred voice.
"Pretty sure," Patrick replies as he straightens and dries his hands.
"Because you do look just like him, you know."
"I know," he replies curtly, hoping his tone will tell the man he'd better shut up now.
But the guy's not taking the hint, probably too drunk to notice, "It's not a bad thing of course - Jason's pretty hot, you know."
"Right."
"So that makes you pretty hot too - " And Patrick's not sure he heard the man zip up or flush but all of a sudden he's standing right behind him and Patrick regrets not having walked out without washing his hands.
"Does it now?" he says, their gazes locking in the bathroom mirror.
"It does," the man - Ray or Roy, Patrick's not sure and wonders why he even cares - says. "So - "
"So?" Patrick asks, feeling his body go rigid and he's not sure why he's not moving when all he wants to do is get the hell out of here.
The man - Patrick's pretty sure it's Roy - steps closer and Patrick can feel the man's warm breath against his skin, can smell the alcohol on his breath. "So, I was just thinking we could - "
But he can't - he doesn't want to - yet he's still not moving, just registering how his breath is coming faster and faster and how his hands have curled up into fists.
"You wanna?" Roy asks, and Patrick thinks he can hear a hint of doubt in the man's voice for the first time.
"No," he manages to get out through gritted teeth.
"You don't?" Arms slide around him and slip dangerously close to his groin. "You sure about that?"
"Aye - " he says in an oddly small voice, almost forgetting who's standing behind him: because it doesn't matter who it is, or what the guy wants. He's not going to let that happen; not again; not here ;not now. The man presses his groin against Patrick's arse and Patrick groans, a low, frustrated groan escaping his lips and he curses himself, because it doesn't exactly sound like he doesn't want it, now does it? No wonder people always think he's so bloody easy.
Roy chuckles softly. "I think you do - you're just afraid to admit it. Come on - " He grinds his cock against Patrick and moves his hands up to Patrick's belt. "You want this - you wouldn't be here if you didn't - "
His breath catches in his throat and for a split second he wonders if Roy is right - he can't move, all his muscles now tense and his breath becoming ragged, wonders if this'll ever stop. Looks into the mirror and he doesn't see Roy's face, sees another - more familiar - face and that's when he remembers.
It won't stop.
Not if he'll continue to let people - let David do this to him. And when Roy's hands, clumsily, starts fumbling with the buckle of his belt, something snaps inside of him, he can't take the chance again. The chance of losing Brendan. All of a sudden he can move - without realizing it he's turned around and before the surprised look that crosses Roy's face even registers his fist connects with the man's jaw and he sways, then stumbles and hits the floor.
"I said no, didn't I?"