renaissanceman | (no subject)

"Absolutely," says Granby, not drunk, not close, but comfortably aware of the fact that he's been drinking. He pushes his glass across the bar. "Though I could always give you some peace, if you'd like."

He's virtually certain that Priestly wouldn't like.

"I'm pretty sure that's the one thing you can't do," says Priestly, grinning at him and pouring one for the road. "What would I even do with peace?"

"Well, exactly," says John, taking a long swallow from his glass and fixing Priestly with a wicked grin. "And where would be the fun in it."

"Just have to bear with me while I get this shit done," he says, wiping his hands on his apron. "And no grabbing of body parts that I require for the performance of my duties. My work duties."

"I will stay here until told otherwise," he promises faithfully. "And I won't lay a finger on your arse until you tell me I can do that too."

"I wonder why it is I'm having a very difficult time believing that," says Priestly, keeping an eye on him as he moves around the dining room, leaving nothing to the ants or the jungle creatures. "Speculation? Paranoia? Or a wealth of evidence to the contrary? Also, my ass is the first thing you think of when it comes to body parts I work with?"

"Forgive me if the last time I saw your arse was particularly memorable," he says, grinning. And he's definitely watching it, as Priestly moves around. "You could always strip to do that. It'd be more interesting to watch."

"Something's gotten into you tonight," says Priestly, and since he didn't place himself under the same no-touch stipulation, and because John's not the one working, he makes sure to get a good feel on his way by.

"Have you seen yourself?" he asks, eyebrows raised, and he definitely presses into the touch of Priestly's hand when it's there. "It's a hard thing to resist, my friend."

"I look like this every day," says Priestly, "and every day doesn't bring you to my doorstep." But he's certainly not complaining, and he'd be all right if it did. "Whatever it is, I should write them a thank-you card." And another little grope, because he can. The place might be deserted but for them, but Priestly still feels a little extra thrill that he's able to touch John like this in a public place for once.

"Well, I do have other things eating into my time," he says, and he sits there while Priestly's hand wander, increasingly aware of his cock.

He bites his lip.

"Tell me you're nearly done."

"With you? Never," says Priestly, breezing by on his way into the cooler and then back again. "With my work? I'll get there. Eventually. You don't mind waiting, do you? It's not too strenuous for you?"

Granby rolls his eyes and rests his chin on his curled fist.

"I'm sitting here, aren't I?"

"Good," says Priestly, and blithely leaves him there as he disappears out back for a few moments, complete faith that John will be right where he left him when he comes back. Because oh, if John wants to play it that way, Priestly has all kinds of ideas.

Granby's still there when he comes back but he has moved to sketching on a discarded paper napkin. He glances up, eyebrows raised.

"Almost done," says Priestly, giving him another little grope on his way by. "If a thing's worth doing, it's worth doing right. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Absolutely," says Granby and, this time, he definitely pushes into the brush of Priestly's hand across the front of his trousers.

"It just seems to be taking an awfully long time, and I'v never exactly been renowned for patience."

"Yeah, I might've noticed that about you," says Priestly. "You're a guy who likes to get what he wants, when he wants it." And Priestly wonders, for a moment, if that's because it wasn't always an option. But he doesn't let himself linger on that for long.

"You weren't complaining about that before," says Granby, setting down his pencil and reaching for his glass, giving Priestly a grin as he knocks back the rest of his drink.

"And I'm definitely not complaining about it now," says Priestly, hanging up his apron and smoothing his hands over his hair, reforming it into a perfect peak. "Another drink? You doing all right?"

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" asks Granby, grinning, even as he pushes the glass across the bar. "Because I should tell you that Aviators are famously difficult to drink under the table."

He arches an eyebrow.

"I can also think of things far more interesting than drinking."

"I don't need to get you drunk to get what I want," says Priestly, taking the glass but not refilling it again. He runs his finger around the rim, then tucks it in behind the bar. "What else are aviators famous for?"

Granby can't help but think that's a loaded question, but he gives it some thought, anyway.

"Balance, adaptability and not always being the best at following orders," he says, flashing a grin. "But we get the job done."

"We should've talked like this sooner," says Priestly, wrapping his hand around John's wrist so he can't go anywhere, or do anything. "I never realized we had so much in common."

His eyebrows raise at the grip around his wrist. He looks down and then back up again.

"Oh, really?" he asks.
Notably, he doesn't try to pull away.