[C] Old Friends

The club was short tonight. The usuals were off and they were short on just about every type of staff they usually had plenty of.

So in desperation they had called Ian in to cover part of the waiting staff tonight.

After a little hesitation, the man had donned his black thong and tie and reported to the bar.

He was just thankful that it wasn't a very busy night tonight. There were enough people to keep him busy but not to work him off his feet. At least he could use the business to get away from anyone that tried to get too friendly.

"Good evening and welcome to the club where all your desires-" His greeting stumbled to a stop as his blue gaze settled on the man he was greeting.

His easy body language tensed a little and he shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other.

"Hi Dea." He'd been avoiding this particular Scot for quite a while. It would be now, when he can't get away, that he would meet the man again.

Deacon was in for a relaxing night, he knew Dario and Silt were out for the night so he had just come for a few drinks and some eye candy.

His lips spread into a grin when he laid eyes on Ian, it had been a long time.

"You know I prefer Doc."

He replied, tilting his head as his smirk widened, he didn't like people using his real name out in public.

"You been avoiding me Ian? Haven't seen you at any of your usual spots."

"Never did catch on to that."

He couldn't remember one time when he had actually called him Doc when they had been friends. As soon as the two of them had begun working together, he had started calling him Dea and that was it; no going back.

"I haven't been at any of my usual spots in a long time."

His blue eyes flickered around the room and he almost cringed. When did it suddenly get so empty and lifeless? He couldn't use the excuse of serving someone else to get away.

"What can i get you?"

"I've noticed, hard not to when one of my favourite cooks packs up shop."

He replied with a little grin, he had been left with a lot of bitching when the man's regulars came to him saying that they couldn't get their fix anymore.

"Whiskey, some of the good stuff they keep locked in the cupboard."

He knew this place well enough and where they kept the expensive things away from the common folk.

"No Dario or Silt tonight? No Demir either...no wonder it is so quiet in here."

"I didn't just pack up shop." He burnt the damned shop to the ground.

His lips pushed up into a forced smile. "I'll be right back with that." He turned immediately and stalked to the bar.

Ian put in the order then went to check the tables before returning to the bar to pick up the whiskey.

He set it down on Doc's table then gave a flourishing bow.

"Is that all you need?"

Deacon couldn't help but chuckle as Ian skulked off, seems their past dealings had left a bitter taste in the man's mouth.

When the man returned he took the drink and sipped at it before resting his chin on his weaved fingers.

"I don't know why you're being so cold, you got into the business on your own accord."

It was always easier to blame someone else than to admit that you had gotten yourself into some bad shit.

"You haven't seen cold yet, Dea."

Ian leant his hip against the table and crossed his arms over his bare chest.

This was him being annoyed. Cold was something completely different. Far worse for Dea than his annoyance.

"Did Abene mention something to you?"

In the past week he had seen both Abene and Doc. That couldn't be a coincidence.

The Warlock's mischievous blue eyes lit up in amusement as he looked up at the man.

Ian was stiff and stern looking while Doc slouched on the lounge looking quite content.

"When is Abene not talking?"

He asked with a snorted laugh, of course Abene had been in his ear as soon as he had seen Ian.

"He mentioned seeing you, and various other things. Don't get a big head though, I didn't come here just to see you, I'm quite a regular here now."

"He needs to learn before someone teaches him personally." Ian was very close to personally teaching Abene to shut his trap. Maybe even permanently.

Ian's lips twitched up into a humourless smile.

"I know. When you're here, I'm not. My hours end early."

The man pushed himself off the table and began strolling back towards the bar. "Flag down the other waiter if you want something."

"Owch."

Deacon replied with a smirk when Ian explained that he had his shifts early so he knew he wouldn't be here, that was a little excessive.

"I get it man, you're out of the game, I didn't come here to try and talk you back into it."

When Ian turned and just walked off Deacon downed the rest of his drink, letting it burn down his throat and he gave a soft chuckle, the sound had a slightly bitter edge to it if you knew Doc well enough to pick up the tone.

He put his money down on the table and left his empty glass on top of it.

"What a jerk."

He muttered under his breath.

Ian was only a few tables away, picking up empty glasses when Doc muttered to himself.

"Surprisingly, still a shifter," he said, just loud enough for Doc to hear him. "My hearing has only gotten better in the last three years."

Ian turned his back and began towards the bar again.

His tanned tattooed cheeks were in perfect view of everyone. Including Doc. The green leaf tattooed to his left cheek stood out proudly compared to all his plain black tattoos.

"Surprisingly, still an annoying shit."

Deacon replied almost instantly, he knew Ian would be able to hear it, but at this point he really didn't care.

The Warlock glanced back his way, eyeing his tattoo backside was fond recognition.

He had stayed away from Ian for three years, he knew the man had been around but he had stayed clear and stuck to the spots that had always been his, the town had practically been split, his favourite spots which he still hung out at regularly and Ian's favourite spots, which he avoided if he could.

Doc sighed and ran a hand through the short shaven side of his head before shaking it and getting to his feet. He stuffed his hands in his pockets before heading back toward the door.

Evidently Ian didn't want to see him so he would just head back home until his shift was over, being with the other boys would get his mind off of it.

Ian watched Doc stand and slump towards the door.

Each step the Warlock took made something cold and sickly grow in Ian.

Guilt, he identified. He felt guilty for being such a dick to Doc.

"Oh for fuck sake," he sighed heavily, throwing down the towel he was wiping the table with.

He'd already fucked up and let one person walk out on him this week. A second wasn't going to be happening.

He couldn't believe he was doing this. But doing it he was, as he hurried towards Doc. His fingers curled in the sleeve of his jacket and yanked Doc around so he was facing him..

"Look, shit can't happen between us." But he leaned down and sealed his lips to Doc's in a searing kiss.

Doc had been debating about what to do while he waited for the night shift workers to start as he was grabbed and yanked around by the sleeve of his jacket.

His brows furrowed and he was about to reply before Ian stole his lips in a kiss.

He kissed the man back deeply with a soft moan before he let his eyes open again and he put his hands on Ian's chest, gently pushing him back.

"Ian...if shit can't happen then don't tease me by kissing me like that."

Hesitantly he wiped his lips on the back of his sleeve, if he couldn't have the man then he didn't want to remember his taste.

"I get it alright, but we both know I'm not going to change who I am, so just...don't."

Ian's eyes turned skyward as he looked for some strength.

"It's not you. I can't even believe I'm saying this shit. It's not you, all right? Just-" Ian let the air out of his nose noisily.

"As much as I've tried not to, I miss you." That sounded just as bad.

The man ran his hand through his short hair in frustration.

"Its all the shit you do. You're too close to it all."

Deacon pursed his lips as he listened to what Ian had to say, his arms crossing over his chest defensively.

"Yeah well, I think you owed me that explanation three years ago before you just fucked off without a trace."

His resolve broke down a little bit, he never was very good at protecting himself from emotion stuff, that was why he usually just had people in his bed then they left, if he paid for it then they knew what it was and he knew not to expect anything more than that.

"I missed you too...but..."

He stood a little awkwardly, this was a bad place to be vulnerable.

"Just...fuck you Ian. I don't know what I expected coming here but whatever, I'm going home. Enjoy your life, I'll keep Abene off your back."

His words didn't hold any fire to them, they weren't said in malice, it had just gotten to the point where he was done waiting, wondering if Ian would ever come back.

This was just the closure he needed to move on.

Deacon shook his head again and headed back for the door.

"Fuck."

His fingers rubbed over his forehead as Doc disappeared out of the club.

He didn't know what he wanted with this damned confession-break up mash up but seeing Doc walk away like this hadn't been what his mind cooked up.

Ian gave a soft grunt of frustration before turning to pick up the glass Doc had left on the table.

His eyes caught a metal case laying on the booth seat. He recognised it immediately. How could he not recognise it? That case was older than he was. Doc had had it for decades.

He picked it up and ran his thumb over the engraved D in the bottom right-hand corner of it.

He knew that if he turned it over there'd be a poorly etched line that was supposed to be an I on the back of the case. He'd vandalised it in their third year. Doc had kept him painfully hard for days through magic to punish him.

He little smile he was wearing fell from his lips.

God, he was such a fucktard. In ten minutes the rift he'd built between the two of them in three years had all but vanished.

"I'm out," he called over to the bartender, heading towards the back. "Call Demir or something if it gets busy."

Tonight was a Wednesday. Ian still knew Doc's timetable back to front. He hoped Doc hadn't changed it. On a Wednesday he went out for some fun then made his way to The Last Stand to sit around in the back rooms ready for his regular dealings. He usually got to the bar at about eleven.

It was just gone ten now. He had almost an hour to get there and wait for Doc.

At ten to eleven he arrived at the bar and made his way towards the back room, trying to ignore the whispers of the bartenders and regulars that hadn't seen his face in a long time.

He opened the door and flicked the lights on. It was still the same as usual. Locked chest of drawers and a couch against one wall, a table with three mismatched seats in the middle of the room.

The door closed behind him as he stepped into the room.

He placed the case in the centre of the table.

Deacon had headed straight home to his loft above The last stand, he had hoped in the shower to calm down a little before getting changed.

He had debating staying home tonight and just laying around, if he went downstairs he knew he was just going to get drunk and at the end of the night Patch would drag his passed out ass back up here then scold him in the morning.

Doc gave a sigh and pushed open a window grabbing his lighter before moving to grab the case from his pocket, where he usually kept his personal stash of homemade smokes, obviously they contained herbs which no one other than those who practiced advanced magic would know about.

His hands searched blindly through his pockets before he grunted and hit his head softly against the window sill.

After all these years he had lost it.

"For fuck sake."

He growled and kicked the cement wall before running his hand down his face and trudging downstairs to the bar.

Ian strolled around the table, running his fingers over the two chairs that sat in the same place they usually did.

One a flaky light-blue painted wooden dining chair with patches of obnoxious yellow paint where the blue had chipped away. The other a sturdy cherry-wood chair with a thick red fabric padding on the seat.

He could so clearly see Doc sat on the cherry-wood chair, grinning and laughing while he lounged in the blue chair with his feet kicked up in Doc's lap.

The shifter sat down hesitantly in the blue chair.

The chair was like a familiar stranger after all these years.

As soon as Doc entered the bar all the regulars turned to look at him, he glanced up, his brows furrowing as they stared in what seemed like anticipation.

"What?"

He growled, his accent becoming thicker the more frustrated or angry he became.

Patch was the only one to move, nodding toward the back room.

Deacon huffed, he wasn't in the mood for clients and he hadn't booked anyone in tonight.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets roughly, surprised he didn't tear the inner lining of his jacket as he moved toward the backroom.

He pushed the door open and froze as he saw Ian just sitting there.

"What are you doing here?"

Doc asked, leaning against the door frame, not wanting to move any closer.

His eyes shot up and he stared at Doc like a deer caught in headlights.

He'd almost wished he had just left the case and run.

"You left it in the club," he muttered, nodding down to the case on the table. "You've always been inseparable. I couldn't let it stay lost."

No matter how awkward seeing Doc was again.

Doc's gaze followed Ian's nod, landing on the table.

His lip kicked up in a half smile as he moved forward to grab it, putting it safely back in his pocket, that case meant a lot to him.

"Thanks."

He replied, clearly sincere in his gratitude, he had been quite upset thinking he had lost it.

"Really appreciate it."

He muttered as his hand idly ran over his pocket, making sure it was there.

Deacon stood awkwardly for a moment before heading back to the bar, Ian looked as uncomfortable as he felt so he needed a little distance, though he wouldn't force the man to leave.

When Doc went out into the bar, Ian slumped back in his chair with an all-suffering sigh.

He really knew how to get himself stuck in these situations. He was so damned awkward.

Seeing Doc after so long was nice, though. As much as he didn't want it to be nice.

"What the fuck are you doing, Milo?"

Deacon was regretting ever going to the club to see the man, Abene had made it sound like Ian wanted to come back to cooking but as per usual the man was absolutely full of shit.

He wouldn't admit that he had been secretly hopeful but it hadn't turned out how he had hoped.

His interests and endeavors had pushed Ian away, he should have known when the man starting getting distant.

Still, not it was nice to at least know why he left, he had always just assumed that it was something he had done or said, perhaps even just who he was.

Still, too late to go back on it all now.

Ian chewed on his lower lip roughly.

All he'd done for the past three years was distance himself from all of this so he could live a healthy happy life like his brothers. Be happy and have a nice partner and some bubbly little kids to love and care for without the threat of druggies at his doorstep.

And in those three years he'd hoped he'd find someone to settle down with.

He'd had one even possible solid girlfriend since then and that had all gone to pot just a couple of nights ago when she had run out on him. He hadn't heard from her since.

"What's one night?" he asked, pushing himself to his feet.

He'd spent three years without his best friend. What was one more night being friends again? He needed a friend at the moment.

Ian sat down next to Doc out in the bar silently.