Archive of Our Own ^beta

Third time's the charm. That was what Reyn had said before they entered Trinity Spirits, their third bar of the night.

Shulk squeezed past another group of people only to find yet another occupied table. Maybe Reyn had been wrong. Maybe they should call it a night.

They were in the first bar for less than fifteen minutes before they agreed that the vibes were off. None of them could put a finger on it but something about the atmosphere and especially the owner and bartender, Lorithia, put them on edge.

The second bar had been fine until someone started a fight that spread until the entire place was in an uproar. Fiora punched someone in the face before they left. Shulk wasn't sure who it was since there were so many random limbs flying but he knew someone was gonna wake up tomorrow with a bruised jaw and questions.

So here they were at bar number three which had no flaws except that it was incredibly crowded.

Shulk maneuvered around a couple too invested in each other to care that they were standing in the way of foot traffic and finally found a table that was emp—nevermind there was card on top of the table that read reserved. He didn't even know people could reserve tables at bars.

He stood there and sighed. He didn't really need a table. He just wanted somewhere to sit.

It would've been nice to have one when Reyn and Fiora returned from wherever they were. He was pretty sure Fiora was somewhere among the mass of people on the dance floor but it was impossible to pick her out. Reyn might also be dancing or he joined the line of people trying to arm wrestle some guy with spiky black hair that Shulk passed earlier.

He guessed not finding a table wasn't really a reason to end the night. Reyn and Fiora were having fun. It was just him who sorta wanted an excuse to go home where it wasn't so loud and there weren't an overwhelming amount of people.

But Shulk couldn't just leave his friends. Especially when they had already drank more than him—next time he would refuse to be the judge for Reyn and Fiora's drinking contest.

Since tables were out and he only needed to find a seat for himself, Shulk decided to try his luck finding an open seat at the bar. Suprisingly, there were a couple and Shulk beelined for the empty one at the very end of the counter.

There was another empty seat between him and the next person which would hopefully serve as a deterrent for any conversation. He wasn't sure he had the social battery for small talk right now.

Shulk got a minute of no human interaction before suddenly there was a person in front of him. He noted the purple waistcoat closed by intricate bronze buttons—he couldn't make out the details carved on them in this lighting—and dragged his eyes up past an unbuttoned white undershirt and red choker until he saw an amused smile.

Somehow the bartender's voice cut through the music. "Hello there."

"Uh hello?" He questioned back, mind drawing a blank on why he was being spoken too.

Instead of being frustrated, the bartender's silver eyes sparkled (how was he doing that?) and his smile remained. "What spirit will be your poison for tonight?"

Spirit . . . pick your poison . . .

Shulk glanced over at the chalkboard menu hanging above the bar counter and quickly realized he couldn't read any of it because it was slightly too far away. So, he blurted out the first drink he thought of.

"Rum and coke? Please."

The bartender nodded and went to grab a glass. He quickly returned with Shulk's drink since he picked such a simple one—he was so glad that the first thing he thought off was something that pretty much every bar was guaranteed to serve.

Shulk thanked him as the glass was placed in front of him.

"Of course. However," the bartender paused and leaned forward, "when I return, I want you to pick a drink that requires more skill. I want to make something special for you, kitten."

Then he winked and sauntered off without waiting for a reply.

Not that Shulk would have had a reply even if he had properly processed what just happened. How does someone respond to that? No one had ever called him kitten in his life and this stranger did it so casually and shamelessly.

He picked up his drink and hoped the ice would cool him down so his ears weren't burning.

He also couldn't help but watch the bartender, even though he really should be looking for his friends, as the man served the other patrons. Shulk was mesmerized by the casual way the bartender spun the bottom half of an empty silver shaker around his fingers, tossed it from his right hand to his left, and then spun it in his left hand. Perhaps nonsensically, he thought the silver shaker the bartender used matched his hair (they both reflected the bar's lighting in a similar way).

Shulk was two-thirds done with his drink when the bartender walked back his way. He panicked a bit because he hadn't thought of another drink and he also hadn't managed to read the menu—future him would realize that he probably could've looked up the menu online if he'd remembered his phone in his back pocket.

Luckily, the bartender didn't ask him about his second drink. "It's quite rare for people like you to be here all alone."

"People like me?"

"Studious, shy looking, and carded at every bar's front door." That last bit was said with a laugh and Shulk couldn't even be upset about it because he had in fact been asked to show his ID three times that night.

Shulk sighed. "I'll probably have to wait another decade before that stops happening."

The response was quick. "An adorable face comes with it's downsides."

Again, it was said so casually and matter of fact that Shulk could only blink in shock. Why was someone so handsome flirting with him? Shouldn't it be the other way around? Or maybe this was just this bartender's version of customer service?

He decided to switch the subject back to the bartender's original point. "Um, I'm actually not alone. I came here with friends."

"Oh?" The bartender looked pointedly at the empty seat next to him.

"Yeah, I just sort of misplaced them." Shulk scratched the back of his head. "I think one is dancing and the other is possibly arm wrestling someone?"

Upon hearing that last part, the bartender frowned slightly. "I did not realize my brother was arm wrestling customers tonight."

"The guy with the spiky black hair? That's your brother?"

"Regrettably."

"I never would have guessed since you're so—" Shulk cut himself off before he could dig himself into a hole.

Unfortunately, the bartender pressed him to finish his thought. "Since I'm so what?"

"I mean he—well he looks like an American football player and you're closer to a model." Shulk hoped that came out right since he didn't want to insult the bartender or his family.

The amused smile returned. "You aren't the first to be surprised given how different we appear. You also aren't the first to compare me to a model. Am I right to assume you find my looks aesthetically pleasing?"

Confused and caught off guard yet again, Shulk answered truthfully, "Yes?"

"My name is Alvis. Wait here and give me five minutes."

Shulk agreed to wait, even though he had no clue what Alvis wanted or why he needed five minutes.

He finished his drink and soon figured out why Alvis needed five when a green haired woman appeared and switched places with Alvis behind the bar.

Alvis returned just as he said he would. Except now he was on Shulk's side of the bar counter.

Offering his hand, Alvis asked, "Would you like to go somewhere a little quieter? I promise we won't leave Trinity Spirits."

He'd only learned Alvis's name five minutes ago but, while it might have been the alchohol talking, Shulk trusted him (and the music was still annoyingly loud and his friends were still having fun without him.) So he took Alvis's hand and let him lead them through an employee's-only-door, up a set of stairs, and into a new room.

The first thing Shulk noticed was the large window in the back wall, in front of which was a comfortable looking couch in the shape of semi-circle.

"Is that—"

Alvis answered before he could finish his question, "It's a one-way window overlooking the first floor. I thought you would appreciate an easier method of searching for your friends."

Shulk gently squeezed Alvis's hand. "Thank you."

"Of course." Alvis's smile this time was soft instead of teasing. "You must value them, given you were willing to sacrifice your own comfort."

"Fiora and Reyn are my best friends. We've known each other since we were kids. I care about them a lot. But, and it's not that Trinity Spirits is bad, it's just that I'm not used to partying."

That probably made him sound boring but it was true. He hadn't exactly spent weekends over the past four years going out to house parties or bars like so many other students. His courseload meant he was either doing Saturday labs or otherwise studying for whatever hellish weekly quiz was going to be sprung on him on Mondays. When he did have some freetime, he was more likely to work on one of his fun personal projects or do something like boardgame or movie night with Reyn and Fiora.

"Then, is tonight a special occasion?" Alvis started leading them to the right where there was another bar, much smaller than the one downstairs.

"I just finished my last final today and Reyn and Fiora finished theirs yesterday. We're all graduating so I couldn't turn them down when they wanted to celebrate."

Fiora had pretty much dragged him out of his apartment, insisting that they would all go out to a bar at least once even if it was at the very end of their college career. Reyn didn't need any convincing.

"Congratulations." Alvis reached the bar, let go of his hand, and turned around so suddenly that Shulk barely stopped himself from crashing into him. They still ended up standing far too close. Alvis smirked. "Now I really must insist you chose a second drink so that I can properly treat you, kitten. A degree is a special achievement."

"Ah you don't have to. You shouldn't be working when you're off the clock." The pet name registered and Shulk was pretty sure his face was tomato-red. "Also, my name is Shulk . . . not kitten."

"This is not about work. I want to make you a drink, Shulk."

Somehow, the way Alvis's mouth curled around Shulk's name—the glimpse of his tongue pressed against white teeth—made it almost as bad as being called kitten. Yet, he also wanted to hear Alvis say his name again.

"Alright, but only if you drink with me, Alvis." Shulk unconsciously leaned forward.

"If we're negotiating," Alvis's tongue darted out to lick his upper lip, "I'll make your drink and you'll make mine. Deal?"

Shulk snorted. "I don't even know what's on your menu. I can't choose a drink for you to make, nevermind making one for you."

"I'll choose yours and guide you through making mine. You don't mind surprises, do you?"

It depended on the surprise but he didn't think he'd have that problem with Alvis. "I trust your judgement."

"Then allow me to demonstrate," Alvis said, before walking around the counter and behind the bar.

Shulk leaned against the counter and watched as Alvis grabbed two bottles of clear alcohol and one bottle of blue liquid (probably also alchohol), a spoon with a long handle, a small metal cup that looked somewhat like an hourglass, and a two silver pitchers from the small fridge. He set those things to the side and then pulled out a tall glass from underneath the counter which he spun in his hand before placing it on the counter and filling it with ice from one of the pitchers. Then, just to be flashy, Alvis took the metal cup in one hand and a bottle in the other, flipped the metal cup into the air, turned around, and caught the cup with the hand that was now behind his back. Of course, Alvis also poured into the cup while it was behind his back without looking.

Alvis added the cup's contents to the glass on the counter and grabbed the blue bottle next, spinning it in hand for good measure. This time, when he turned and held the cup behind his back, Alvis poured the blue liquid over his shoulder and perfectly into the cup without any single drop hitting the floor. If Alvis wanted to impress him, he'd certainly done that multiple times already.

Instead of adding the blue liquid directly into the glass, Alvis picked up the spoon, twirled it around his fingers, and then held the spoon upside down while carefully pouring the liquid over the back of the spoon and into the glass. Shulk noticed that the two drinks did not mix, leaving the bottom of the class clear and the middle blue.

Alvis flashed him a satisfied smile, clearly enjoying showing off his earned skill, and grabbed the third bottle. "Would you like to see one more trick?"

"Yes." Shulk breathed out immediately.

Alvis took the small metal cup and carefully balanced it on top of his head, removing his hands and spreading them wide—the way a magician does to show their crowd that there are no invisible strings or anything of that sort. Then, while the cup was sitting perfectly balanced on his head, Alvis poured the third and final bottle into it.

Absolutely insane. Shulk didn't think most bartenders could do that.

Trick accomplished, Alvis took the cup off his head and once more poured it over the back of the spoon and into the glass. Now there were three separate layers—two clear layers sandwiching the blue in the middle.

Finally, Alvis took the second pitcher and poured cream over the back of the spoon, creating a fourth milky white layer at the very top.

Shulk admired the perfectly separated layers in the drink before Alvis used the spoon to gently swirl the colors and create an effect that reminded him of the ocean.

It was a pretty cool effect and he couldn't wait to taste it.

Alvis removed the spoon from the glass, and then, before Shulk could guess his intentions, he swiped a bit of residual cream off the spoon and tapped Shulk on the nose.

Cold was Shulk's only thought as he stood there, mouth slightly agape, as he was caught off guard once again. If he ever thought there was a maximum time someone could fluster him and cause his mind to stutter in one night, Alvis had proven that assumption very very wrong.

Alvis chuckled. "I suggest you stop staring and come over here."

Shulk wiped the cream off his nose and joined Alvis behind the bar while the other began putting away the things he just used and taking out new ingredients.

Once the blue and white drink was set aside and everything was gathered to make the second drink, Alvis maneuvered Shulk so that he was standing in front of Alvis and facing the ingredients spread out on the countertop. Then, Alvis pressed himself against Shulk's back with his head leaning over Shulk's right shoulder.

The feeling of Alvis entire body pressed up against his back plus Alvis' breath tickling his ear and ruffling the tips of his hair forced Shulk to put his hand on the bar to steady himself. Unfortunately, any steadiness achieved by that act was instantly rendered useless when Alvis wrapped his arms around Shulk's waist and whispered into his ear.

"Are you satisfied with this arrangement, Shulk?"

Swallowing saliva because his mouth was suddenly dryer than a desert, Shulk nodded repeatedly.

"Perfect," Alvis purred directly into his ear (how was Shulk supposed to follow directions in these conditions.) "First, you should grab the empty shaker."

And that's how making Alvis's drink went. Alvis whispering directions. Shulk doing his best to follow them without dropping anything. Sometimes he had to ask Alvis to repeat the directions because he got distracted by Alvis's little movements like the way he leaned from one side to the other as if grabbing the ingredients himself or how he sometimes pulled back enough that his breath hit the nape of Shulk's neck instead of his ear or, even worse, how he sometimes got so close that his lips brushed the side of Shulk's face.

Alvis even coached him through a simple trick. That was actually the first thing they did. Shulk learned how to do a palm spin with the empty shaker and then a simple toss. He dropped the shaker twice but luckily got it the third time.

The drink Shulk made for Alvis included citris vodka, cointreau, cranberry juice, half a lime, and ice. He appreciated that Alvis gave him the names of everything because he was curious about what was going in it. He also appreciated that Alvis told him when to stop pouring because he wasn't experienced enough to know how much was too much alcohol.

Shulk poured the finished drink, a cosmopoliton, into a martini glass and added a slice of lime for garnish according to Alvis's instructions. The final color of the drink was a vibrant pinkish-red.

"Congratulations, Shulk. You completed Bartending 101," was spoken gently into his skin with a small laugh.

Shulk turned his head a little so that he could see Alvis's face. "Thank you, but really, I was just lucky to have such a good teacher."

Alvis, clearly amused, continued the game, "I must inform you that flattery, while appreciated, won't translate to a higher grade."

"Of course." Shulk nodded, mock serious. "I saw that policy on the syllabus. It's just that you deserve the flattery for your impressive bartending skills and patience with me. I would have dropped out of this course ages ago, if not for you."

"Hmm while I acknowledge my part in your success, you should not discount your own hard work. In fact, I am looking forward to tasting you—," Alvis paused just long enough to watch the blush form, "—r efforts."

"Um, ri-ght." Shulk's voice cracked. "Should we go—uh—sit down?"

Alvis let go of Shulk's waist and picked up the red drink, "After you."

Shulk grabbed the drink Alvis made for him and started making his way out from behind the bar, only slightly startled when Alvis's free hand landed on his lower back. Alvis ended up guiding them both to the semi-circle couch with a small table in the middle.

They sat side-by-side, shoulders and knees touching.

Shulk looked down at his drink, once more admiring the swirling effect that made it look like waves in a glass, "What's this one called?"

"My sister calls it a Jellyfish. I prefer Ocean In a Bottle."

Shulk took a long sip, doing his best to drink more than just the cream at the top. He didn't have enough experience to say anything special about the drink but he knew he liked it. The flavors weren't bad together and blue was his favorite color. Plus, Alvis made it for him so Shulk was automatically biased.

"It's really good." Shulk made sure to face Alvis as he said it, putting the glass down on the table. "The best drink I've had all night."

Alvis smiled, "I'm glad that I chose well. Although," he reached out and cupped Shulk's face with one hand, "you have cream right here."

Alvis's thumb brushed over Shulk's upper lip, featherlight and unhurried. Then, he pulled his hand back and licked the cream off his thumb in the exact same unhurried manner.

Maybe this last drink was one too many because Shulk was feeling kind of dizzy and overheated.

Heedless of the dazed state he left Shulk in (or maybe Alvis knew exactly what he was doing), Alvis casually lifted the martini glass up to his lips to sample the cosmopolitan. His face was blank, betraying nothing about the taste, as he took a second and third sip.

Shulk started to ask if it was ok before Alvis interrupted him. "For an amateur, it's not bad. However, I beleive that there is one thing that would elevate the taste."

The martini glass was placed on the table.

"What?" Shulk breathed out as Alvis leaned forward.

In the single stretched-out moment where time paused, a million stars twinkled in those silver-purple-black-impossibly-shifting eyes. Galaxies swirling and folding in on each other. Space itself poured across two irises, pardoxically threatening to spill over and also sinking deeper into an unfathomable well. Inviting, warning, teasing, dangerous, but, most of all, beautiful.

Drawn in and unresisting, Shulk tipped his head forward right as Alvis captured his lips with his own. Citrus and cranberries met cream, lips on both sides chilled from the ice in their forgotten drinks. It was a chill that melted swiftly.

Alvis kissed with an unshakable, immutable certainty. Line drawn directly from point A to B. As soon as he decided what he wanted, he did it. That wasn't to say that Alvis already knew the outcome, the opposite really. Shulk could tell that Alvis was testing out his own curiosity (and for this, Shulk didn't mind being a test subject). It was just that Alvis was entirely committed to satisfying that curiosity with single-minded focus.

Everytime Shulk pulled away for air, he barely got a moment before Alvis consumed his lips again with the intensity of a pulsing star. He was caught in an orbit he couldn't escape (and Shulk didn't want to escape because to do so would send him spinning out into the endless nothingness of space without a path to follow.)

A heated, wandering hand on Shulk's thigh turned into Alvis pulling himself into Shulk's lap, stradling him against the couch. In response, Shulk took his chance to thread his hand through that gorgeous silver hair—it was just as soft as he hoped.

At some point, when the burn in his lungs was getting to be too much, Shulk broke away and Alvis let him. Shulk sat there, mouth open, lips bitten and bruised, and chest heaving, and dazedly stared up, drinking in the vision of Alvis perfectly backlit by the bar's lighting such that it created a faux halo.

Alvis looked down on him, galaxy eyes alight with insatiable curiosity and desire, and said, "How interesting . . . I did not realize that I would enjoy seeing you so debauched."

Shulk's seemingly never ending well of embarrassment decided to tap out. Alvis could say whatever he wanted because Shulk had his own curiosity to test out.

Widening his eyes and pulling his best pleading face, Shulk lifted one hand and moved aside Alvis's already unbuttoned white undershirt, exposing more of Alvis's neck and collarbones.

"Can I? Please."

Alvis processed his request and Shulk had the delight of seeing the pupils in his eyes dilate further. Then, Alvis tilted his head back and purred, "Go for it, kitten."

Starting with those delicious collarbones and slowly moving his way up, Shulk was careful and methodical with every press of his lips and teeth against Alvis's bronze skin. He took his time tasting and exploring, taking note of any and all noises spilling from Alvis's mouth as he trailed up his neck and lavishing extra attention on any spot that recieved a more intense reaction. By the time Shulk got to Alvis's face, leaving small kisses on everything in reach (nose, cheekbones, forehead), his neck was thoroughly marked and bruised and Alvis himself was slightly trembling against him.

"Are you satisfied?" Alvis huffed, both amused and, dare Shulk think it, annoyed that he stopped.

Shulk pressed another quick kiss to Alvis's lips, "Are you?"

"I do not know yet. Are you willing to help me find out, Shulk?"

Shulk did eventually find his friends before the night was over. Reyn: puking his guts out on the sidewalk outside the bar. Fiora: patting Reyn on the back while he puked his guts out on the sidewalk outside the bar.

Together, Fiora and him managed to get Reyn back to his apartment and then neither of them made it to their own apartments, crashing instead on either side of Reyn's couch.

The next morning's miserable headache reminded Shulk why he didn't drink very often.

Fiora kicked him. "Blinds. Close them."

Blearily, he gingerly got off the couch and shut the blinds, plunging Reyn's living room into blissfully cool darkness.

However, before he passed out again, Shulk took his phone out of his back pocket—how long had that been there—and powered it on, blinking until he was used to the light. He opened up his contacts and scrolled down, hoping against hope that he'd actually gotten Alvis's number at some point.

Shulk scrolled through all the A's. Nothing new.

Shulk scrolled through all the B's. Nothing new there either.

Dread rose. He really hoped that he saved Alvis's number but what name did he even give it?

Several more letters and no new contacts until Shulk got to the letter K.

"Kitten's New Boyfriend 😘🥂"

Oh, he didn't remember saving Alvis's number because—hold on, he didn't remember giving Alvis his phone. But he must have at some point, right?

He sent a quick message. "Boyfriend?"

Alvis immediately sent back. "Yes, kitten?"

"That's your contact name for me isn't it."

"😉"

Shulk snorted. Then, his phone buzzed with messages from two unknown numbers plus a new text from Alvis which read, "please ignore my siblings."

That made him curious.

Unknown number 1 sent, "You should come to dinner!"

Unknown number 2 sent, "You better come back and help clean that fucking couch."

Oh no. There was no way he could face Alvis's siblings. Ever.