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First Round
The pub greeted Aaron with warmth and a musty smell. He instantly wondered about the moistness in the big room and how it may affect the building. Aaron truly tried his best to not be judgemental, but in the last weeks he had seen more than once that the Irish regularly fought against mould in their buildings—and also often lost that fight. He was being unfair; all in all, the moistness wasn’t bad. Sure, the room was filled by a mustiness from the mix of many people, wet coats, drinks, wooden floors, and stone walls, but despite the Friday evening, the pub wasn’t overcrowded, and the music in the background was quiet, not as oppressive as in different places. The voices that filled the place didn’t carry too much, caught in the walls full of picture frames and—for some reason—a huge library.
Still, Aaron had absolutely no interest in being in this stuffy, crowded place today, but he had been invited by his coworkers, and he couldn't constantly cancel plans. He had moved here roughly two months ago and feared that the grace period of him being accepted on the basis of him being new would run out quickly. Aaron kept telling himself that he would reinvent himself while working abroad. Despite what some people may say, Aaron understood himself quite well; he knew why he tried to keep people at a distance, especially since he had broken up with Katelyn, and he was confident that even if everything had gone great in his life up to this point, he would never truly enjoy the business of small talk with coworkers he barely cared about. Unfortunately for him, he also understood that sometimes you had to make some sacrifices when you wanted to connect to people. So when his coworkers had asked if he would join them tonight, he had agreed. Only if it was for the new Aaron he tried to invent: someone who wasn’t anti-social, an ex-addict, or associated with a psycho brother. In Ireland, he could be a new person. It had been one of his reasons for leaving. The job offer had helped, of course. The shared language. The pictures of pretty landscapes, especially the seaside. Aaron had always liked the sea, and this one felt very different from the one he had first learnt to yearn for in San Jose.
Wolf whistles and cheering informed Aaron about the fact that his coworkers had seen him enter the pub. The attention unsettled him, and he felt the telling blush creeping on his face, hoping that it could be mistaken for his skin reacting to the cold weather outside. Some unfamiliar heads turned towards Aaron as well, but not for long, the other groups and couples apparently not minding the ruckus of the hospital’s paediatrician team.
“Aaron, you're arriving at a perfect time,” one of the nurses greeted him as he stepped towards the table. “Don’t sit down yet!” Her name was Maeve, and she was often in the same shifts as Aaron, due to being as childless as he was. Maeve was easy to get along with, if a bit too loud and energetic for him. However, the children seemed to adore her, and she was really good at her job, and that was the most important part. Despite his personal preferences, Aaron really only disliked rude or unhelpful coworkers.
Aaron stopped and shared an awkward hand wave with the group. “You want me to get drinks?”
Maeve laughed, her head thrown back, loud and very shameless. “Perfect, you have already understood your task for this evening.”
“My task?”
“So you see, we have this rule here. Whoever arrives last is on drink duty for the rest of the night. We had to implement it because Yeraz was always shamelessly late.”
Aaron looked around the group. Said Yeraz, who was a doctor as well, was already there, sitting in the middle of a wooden corner bench and raising his glass as he was referred to. It was cramped around the table, but there would still be a place for Aaron. There were people missing in their group, of course; a hospital team was by definition not able to all meet together. Someone had to take the shifts; emergencies did not stop for a nice evening at the pub, and Aaron also saw that both Yeraz and Conor, a nurse, also had a pager lying on the table in front of them.
Aaron gave a long-suffering sigh, more for show than out of real annoyance, and it made Maeve laugh again. “Okay. What do you want?”
To his luck, not everyone was out of drinks yet, so Aaron could make his way over to the bar with a very manageable list of drinks. Towards the bar counter it got more crowded, and he had to get creative to make up for his lack of vertical advantage. Luckily, Aaron had spent years of his life making up for that advantage and somewhat quickly arrived at the bar.
It was busy, but there was only one person working behind the counter. Aaron had long accepted his bisexuality, an acceptance grown from maturing, therapy, and long conversations with Katelyn, but sometimes it still took him by surprise when he felt the crashing wave of attraction for another man. The bartender—or whatever a guy in a pub may be called—was unnecessarily tall, with broad shoulders that stretched his deep green shirt. That poor shirt was also holding on for dear life around the guy’s biceps and pecs. It was very evident that he worked out more than the common person, making him look more like an athlete than a bartender. It did not help that the rest of the man was breathtakingly beautiful as well. Despite his muscular body, his face was more pretty than handsome, with soft lines, full, rosy lips and long, dark lashes surrounding bright eyes. The dim light of the pub didn’t make it easy to see the colour, but they had to be a light hazel or green, too soft for a sharp blue but too light for anything else. They were a contrast to his tanned skin and dark hair, either brown or black, which was up to his shoulders, but he wore it in a half-up, half-down hairdo oddly reminiscent of the unrealistic hairstyles found in fantasy movies. It was entirely disorienting for Aaron to look at this man.
Aaron was still a bit preoccupied with the enormous chest of the man—which, in all fairness, was directly in his line of sight—when the guy called out to him: “How are you? What do you need?”
“Hello. I need a plain ginger ale, a pint of Guinness, and…” He quickly checked the taps. "Honestly, a pint of whatever lighter beer you have on tap.”
“A lighter beer for the American; who would have thought?"
Aaron couldn’t help but roll his eyes. The banter around him being US-American was rarely, if ever, meant in a hurtful way, but it nevertheless could become a bit repetitive. So he didn’t like bitter beer; sue him.
“Maybe it is for someone else in the group,” Aaron responded, but the bartender just cocked an eyebrow at him.
"Maybe," he conceded, without sounding convinced at all. If anything, he managed to sound even more condescending, but even his judgemental smirk looked way too good on his face. “I have bottled Budweiser if that’s what you desire.”
What Aaron desired was an early bedtime or the knowledge of how a genuine smile would light up the pretty face in front of him, but none of it could be delivered, so he mumbled something in agreement. The bartender simply scoffed in response. For a moment it seemed like he wanted to add something else, but Aaron’s stern look finally made him move. The guy first filled the Guinness glass and put it down, far from filled to the top, let alone the brim. It may have been some time, but Aaron had worked in a club before; he knew everything about how bartenders loved to give the shittily prepared drinks to customers they deemed unworthy. And he wouldn’t allow this.
“What the fuck is this about?”
“Hm?” The man looked up while he had been reaching for another glass. For a moment he seemed actually confused, but the expression quickly shifted into one of irritation when he saw Aaron pointing to the glass that truly should count as half-empty.
“I am not done yet, am I?” He asked, his forehead crinkled in displeasure. “Don’t tell me how to do my job.”
"Well, it—“
“Quiet.” There was a finality to the words, and despite his frustration, Aaron felt himself willing to listen. The man reached for the glass and pulled it back, carefully topping it up. “This is how it is done. Not that I expected you to know how to do it correctly. But maybe hold the complaints until I am finished with my work.” He kept mumbling under his breath, both evidently not super eager to share his thoughts but also not keeping them too much under wraps. At some point, he definitely complained about 'fecking tourists’, which Aaron was not, thank you very much. For a moment, Aaron considered saying something, but he settled for being the bigger person.
Finally, the man set the Guinness down and turned to pour another beer for Aaron. Aaron tried to reach for it but was stopped by a displeased tsk-ing sound. “Better let it settle while you wait.”
His ears were burning, Aaron feeling oddly uncomfortable by the way the bartender had called him out on his missing knowledge on handling Guinness, apparently. At least there had been no one around to follow the discussion. There was the contrary part in Aaron that yearned to grab the pint, just to prove a point, but again, he decided to prove that he knew how to be a normal, not-petty adult. So he just stared at the beer while it was setting, the whole glass slowly turning a deep dark colour.
“Can you carry both beers and a glass of ginger ale?” The bartender asked while putting down a glass bottle of Budweiser very pointedly exactly in front of Aaron. Aaron hesitated for a moment, considering the weight and size of everything in front of him.
“I’ll be right back—“ He took his pint of beer from the counter and then reached for the Guinness. For a short moment of confusion Aaron looked to find the pint before he saw that the rude bartender was holding it, slightly leaning over the counter to hand it to Aaron.
“Do you have that little trust in me?” Aaron asked. It made the man smirk, an annoyingly attractive expression on his face.
“Maybe.”
Aaron did not answer but rolled his eyes again, making sure it was dramatic enough to be seen, before he reached for the glass. His fingers crossed with the one of the bartender. They were long and elegant like a pianist's and surprisingly warm despite handling the cold glasses, but Aaron couldn’t really pay attention. Instead, he was focused on the long lines of scarred tissue, the raised skin, and the odd bump. 'Probably a former compound fracture caused by high-energy trauma,' Aaron diagnosed in his head. He said nothing, just pulled the pint towards him. The bartender let go of the glass with the same rude smirk again. It was annoyingly attractive to Aaron. Such a prideful action shouldn’t look that good, but this face probably made everything look good.
“See you in a second," the man said, and it felt like he was playing up his Irish accent. Aaron didn’t answer, just shoved his way through the crowd to get back to the table. By the time he made the return trip to get the ginger ale for Conor, the drink was already ready, and the bartender only quickly gestured towards the glass before focusing on a group of giggling young women all trying to order at the same time. Aaron couldn’t help but wonder if some of their giggling was spurred from the unrealistic attractiveness of the man serving drinks.
Second Round
Aaron hated to admit the surprise he felt when he realised what a good time he was having with his co-workers. He tended to come into the hospital, do his job, and go home, and therefore had barely talked to any of them outside of small talk during break hours, but this evening helped him realise that a majority of his co-workers were maybe more aligned with him than he had first thought. Conor, the nurse he was most rarely on the same shift with, shared a story about how the neighbourhood that he came from had been changed by the influx of cheap cocaine in Ireland, which in turn had made Aaron carefully share his experience of watching the opioid crisis in the US from the front line, as medical professionals would always be forced to do. Time passed quickly, and before he had even finished his bottle of beer, the group went on to send him back to the counter to get more drinks. This time, there were two Guinness and a red ale among the wish list, but Maeve gracefully accepted coming with Aaron to at least help him carry.
When they arrived at the bar, the rude, dark-haired bartender was engaged in a very heated discussion with an elderly man on the other side of the counter, not paying attention to anyone else. However, this time there was another guy behind the counter as well. He seemed oddly short, looking like a child behind the counter—not that Aaron was one to judge—and had a head of bright auburn hair, shimmering reddish in the fairy lights that had been dragged around the shelves of liquor behind the bar. When he turned to them, Aaron was taken aback by the bright blue eyes that seemed ice cold.
“Yes?” The man addressed them, and the word sounded oddly strange.
“Two pints of Guinness and one half-pint of the red ale, please,” Aaron said quickly, hoping for the man to turn away. Unfortunately, that was not the case; instead, the man focused his cold stare on Aaron and gave him a sharp-toothed smile. “Oh, are you the cute American that Kevin talked about?”
Behind Aaron, Maeve had already started laughing, but Aaron just felt the confusion settling on him. On the one hand, he felt like he could now understand why the ‘yes’ had sounded strange in the moment: the guy obviously had a posh English accent, with no hint of Irish. On the other hand, Aaron was sure that he wasn’t the cute American. He didn’t even know who Kevin was. Suddenly, with the blue eyes fixed on him, Aaron felt oddly reminded of high school days, when smiling girls telling him about how cute he was or how someone had a crush on him was nothing but a cruel joke.
“If Kevin is the other guy behind the bar, I am sure I am not the right person. Pretty sure he was not a fan of me,” Aaron finally settled on when it became clear that his answer was expected. The idiot behind the bar hadn’t even reached for the glasses yet. This sentence should have settled it, but the grin Aaron received in exchange from the English guy was more than just unsettling.
“Aye, that is Kevin’s special treatment. Although I really can’t understand what he sees in you.”
“Is insulting your customers common practice in this establishment?” Aaron grumbled. Frankly, he didn’t really understand what that supermodel of a man would see in him either, but he didn’t need some red-headed gnome pointing that out.
“Only if they make it easy to be insulted. " The man winked at him and made that action seem unnecessarily rude. "Two Guinness and a half-pint of Smithwick’s Red Ale, that’s all?”
Aaron gave the man a sharp nod, and he finally turned away to start pouring the beers. He was quick and efficient; however, Aaron couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to be missing the certain care and technique that the other bartender, possibly Kevin, possessed when it came to pouring a pint. There was carelessness to his quick movements; still, Aaron could quickly send Maeve back with her red ale while he was waiting for the two pints of Guinness.
While the smaller guy was pouring the second Guinness, Kevin came over, finally freed from the discussion with the other customer. He stood oddly close to the guy, kind of crowding him in against the taps, and Aaron questioned if he was intruding on a very specific mating ritual of gay British Isles men before Kevin turned to him:
“Everything good?”
It was such a surprise to hear this question, so Aaron couldn’t do much but nod—quite dumbly, he was sure of that. Kevin gave a sharp nod in response, then the other guy handed the second Guinness over, and Aaron had no reason to stay. While he carried the pints over, he wondered if the differences in the way the beer settled were purely imagined or if Kevin had done a better job than his co-worker.
Third Round
It felt like Aaron barely had time to sit down and enjoy his drink before he was sent out for another round of drinks. He started to wonder if this was just an elaborate prank that his coworkers were pulling on him, couldn’t think of any other reason why they would pick on him, and only him, to get the drinks to the table, especially now that the pub started to fill up even more. Aaron started to become very unwilling to do this, but he was even more unwilling to start a discussion on that. If anything, it was a bit of movement that was probably better for his constantly aching back than sitting on a wooden chair, which was many things—dark coloured, scraped up, questionably sticky—but ergonomic surely none of them.
This time, no one accompanied Aaron, although he had another order bigger than two hands. As he got to the counter, the evil-spirited short man grinned at him, but Aaron decided to blankly stare past him until Kevin—if that even was his name—came up to him. He had again been busy talking to some other customers, charming them without even knowing it, and probably breaking some hearts when he turned away to walk over to Aaron.
“Ah, the American.”
“Aaron.” He surprised himself by giving up his name like that, but everything was better than being called ‘the American’.
“Aaron.” The bartender smiled, a bit crooked, showing a tiny bit too much of his gums. It reshaped his model face, making him look entirely human and even more beautiful. He pronounced Aaron’s name slightly differently from the way people had done it in the US, and although Aaron had somehow gotten used to the specifications of the Irish language, it wasn’t just the accent that made Aaron’s name sound special out of Kevin’s mouth. It was the gentle yet firm way it was spoken. Like it was something special, something valuable. Aaron had long forgotten how it felt to be valued like that.
Still, he hoped none of these thoughts showed on his face and simply nodded. “That’s me.”
The answer made the man smile again, crooked and beautiful. “I am Kevin.”
“I know. The demon over there told me.”
Kevin’s whole face crinkled up as he very evidently tried to suppress a laugh. “Ah,” he answered, amusement tainting his words stronger than any accent. It was an addictive sound.
“You should probably make sure he gets fired," Aaron deadpanned, and it made Kevin’s face carefully dance around a laugh again. Aaron had not meant to be funny, but still, seeing Kevin’s amusement due to his words made his chest feel warm.
“I have to let you know that this is my brother that you are talking about.” Kevin’s response was without any anger, but there was an undercurrent of genuine importance to the sentence.
“Your brother? That man is English!”
Kevin just shrugged. “It may come as a surprise, but this is not even the biggest of his flaws.”
Aaron couldn’t help but grin at these words. For a moment, they just looked at each other, Aaron enjoying the twinkle of the fairy lights reflecting in Kevin’s bright eyes and shimmering in his dark hair, then Kevin suddenly blinked quickly and broke the spell. “So. What do you want to order?”
“Oh. Eh. Half-pint of a sweet cider, glass of ginger ale, half-pint of Heineken, and I guess… another bottle of Budweiser.”
“Budweiser for the American?” Kevin grinned at him while he already started pouring the first pint. Aaron did not deem this worthy of an answer and just levelled an annoyed stare at Kevin. It was meant to be rude, but for some reason it made another smile grace Kevin’s face.
“I will introduce you to something else.” Not an offer, not a question. Just a statement. Aaron truly wondered how Kevin was able to work in such a public-facing job if no one had ever taught him how to treat customers.
“If you must insist.”
The dry answer made Kevin chuckle. He put down the Heineken. “Okay, here is my proposal. Smithwick’s Blonde. It is definitely one of the lighter Irish beers, for my particular American. Crisp and slightly citrussy. Goes down very easily.”
Aaron had been barely capable of keeping up with Kevin’s description of the beer past the ‘my particular American’. Out of principle, Aaron did not believe in butterflies, but something had definitely moved deep in his stomach after Kevin had addressed him like that, in his casual yet honest way. He knew that this was most likely just another tactic of Kevin to keep Aaron as a customer or gain some more tips, but it was simply irresistible. Despite himself, Aaron felt his face move into a small but genuine smile.
“Okay. But if I hate it, it is your fault.”
“You will not hate it. I can see what you like.”
Aaron snorted. While Kevin turned away to get a bottle of the mysterious beer, he leaned slightly forward. “What do I like?”
When Kevin looked at him, there was a slight blush settling on his face, but there was also a glimmer of dedication in his eyes. “You are probably not a big beer drinker, but you don’t want to admit that here. You like lighter, fruitier tastes. A just lighter beer is fine but boring to you. Maybe you could be interested in malty flavours if you were to get over your prejudice for a slight hint of bitterness. I think you could be into red ales, but despite your preference for lighter beers, a pale ale would not be your favourite.”
Somehow, this felt irritating to Aaron, and he twitched his nose in displeasure. He did not like just being put into boxes like that, although most of these boxes seemed oddly correct, even though he truly did not know enough about beers to judge the truth of Kevin's statements.
“I am not a beer person; that much is true,” he finally said.
Kevin smiled brightly. “I know. Let me help you carry—“
“It is fine.”
“No, it is not. Don’t be difficult.” Before Aaron even had the chance to respond to this demeaning expression or to grab at least two of the four glasses and start going back to the table, Kevin had already somehow come around the bar counter, moved through the waiting people with ease and now appeared next to Aaron. “Easy as that,” he simply said, like the annoyance he was, grabbed the bottle for Aaron and the half-pint of Heineken and nodded eagerly towards the leftover glasses.
Begrudgingly, Aaron took them and started the walk back to the table. On his way to the bar, he had to somewhat make space for himself, but now, with Kevin by his side, the crowd parted easily. Yet another way taller people were systematically privileged. Or maybe that, too, was the effect of Kevin being unfairly beautiful, fascinating and self-confident. He moved through the pub, as he was sure that people were going to move out of his way. And because Kevin was the way he was, people did move out of his way.
When they got to Aaron’s table, Conor whooped and smiled up at Kevin. For some reason that made Aaron’s stomach clench up in anger. He knew that he had no claim on Kevin; on the contrary, Kevin had nothing to do with him. And yet—
“Hey, Kevin. How are you?” Conor rolled his greeting off the tongue like a cat purring.
“Good.” There was no gentleness, no care in that simple word. Kevin barely looked at Conor, simply put the Heineken on the table and then impatiently waved Aaron over. Only when Aaron had put down the glasses he had carried did he hand Aaron his own bottle of beer. Kevin kept a hold on it until he was very sure that Aaron held it. And again, their fingers touched, and again Aaron was surprised by the warmth of Kevin’s hands despite the cold drinks he kept handling.
“Tell me if you enjoy it.” Another statement, a harsh demand. There was no mistaking this for a question.
“Maybe I won't," Aaron teased, aiming to stay difficult and rude but slightly misjudging the way he made the words sound.
“You will." Kevin answered full of conviction and then allowed a smile to quickly run over his face before he turned away.
When Aaron turned to the table, everyone was staring at him.
"Babe", Maeve started, her voice full of awe, “why is the Kevin Day looking at you like this?”
There was only one answer that felt appropriate to Aaron in this moment: “Who the fuck is Kevin Day?”
Fourth Round
Before he had to go back up to get more beer, Aaron had the misfortune to learn more about the Kevin Day, who was apparently something like a celebrity to Aaron’s coworkers. Born on one of the islands off the west coast, he had spent most of his childhood in this very pub. Apparently it had been a shitty place until Kevin’s mother had bought it, built it up from scratch while being pregnant, and led it extremely successfully until she had passed away in a car accident shortly before Kevin’s 18th birthday. The pub had been standing empty for four years while Kevin had been somewhere else—no one really knew why; despite their love for the gossip surrounding Kevin, it seemed like Aaron's coworkers didn’t know a lot about him—until he had come back, the English demon in tow, the broken hand still wrapped up at that point, and restarted his mother’s business. People had not believed in him, but apparently, he had quickly become extremely successful at it, gaining awards and outstanding ratings for everything from the way he led the pub to the way he poured the beer.
It didn’t surprise Aaron; of course Kevin would be good enough to earn awards. Kevin seemed like he was the kind of person who’s good at everything. So all in all, Kevin soon had become not only the city’s but also Ireland’s darling: a young, extremely good-looking pub keeper, working hard to keep his mother’s legacy. Apparently, the fascination with him was only fuelled by him not being the most outgoing, kindest person; his honest but somewhat cold demeanour was endearing to people visiting from everywhere, and the fact that there were some missing years just fuelled the gossip, making him more interesting.
'The never-ending privileges of being good-looking,' Aaron had commented, but everyone around the table had just said that he didn’t understand. Maybe he didn’t. Kevin was hot, yes, and his character was oddly fascinating, but this shouldn't be enough to run a business successfully.
After finishing his beer—which unfortunately had been really good—Aaron had planned to go home, but when he had announced that to the group, Mave had begged him for another Guinness, so he yielded to her demands and went to get another round of drinks for the group. He told himself he did this to be a social and kind coworker and not to see Kevin an extra time.
The pub had cleared up a bit since the last trip to the counter, and when Aaron came over, for the first time in the evening, Kevin didn’t seem busy. Instead of serving customers (or fighting them), he was leaning with his hips against the back wall, delicately balancing himself between the cash register and the counter in front of the liquor bottles, angling his athletic body like he was in a Calvin Klein advertisement. It looked lewd, despite Kevin being fully dressed, his muscles too visible below the tight shirt, or maybe the alcohol was getting to Aaron. Kevin was looking down on his phone, typing something and biting his lips in thought. Backlit by the lights in the liquor cabinet, his hair shimmered in a lighter colour, but more importantly, his eyes reflected the lights, not unlike the dark green of the gin bottles next to his head. Green eyes, of course. Aaron allowed himself a moment of staring at Kevin until he drummed his fingers on the wooden counter, not sticky despite the late night. Kevin must be insanely focused on keeping it clean.
At the sound of Aaron's drumming, Kevin’s face flew up, stuck in a judgemental scowl that annoyingly morphed into a more gentle expression as soon as their eyes met. “Aaron.”
“Kevin. Give me—“
“Shush.” Kevin raised a finger. “First, did you like the beer I got you?”
Aaron just levelled a flat stare at Kevin, not willing to admit defeat. For some reason unbeknownst to Aaron, however, Kevin took this as an enthusiastic agreement and grinned widely.
“I knew it. Another one?”
“No. It is late. I am just collecting another Guinness for my friend.”
“Rude of her not to come up herself.”
Aaron shrugged. “It is whatever.”
“It sure is.” Kevin bowed down to grab a cooled glass, then, when he looked up to Aaron again, his green eyes shimmered with something close to mirth. It made him look younger and even more enchanting.
“Yes?” Aaron asked carefully. He was scared of what Kevin may ask of him; he was looking forward to the wrong question, even when it would feel so right. Maybe Maeve had been right; maybe this had been flirting. Aaron didn’t dare to hope for it, and yet he couldn’t find a name for the warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest that didn’t scare him.
“Do you want to pour the pint for your friend? It will suck, but that is revenge.”
“Maybe it won’t suck.”
“Maybe not,” Kevin conceded, but he didn’t seem convinced. His eyes were still shimmering with mirth and amusement. Aaron considered it for a moment, but the counter around them was empty, and he had been annoyed by Maeve.
“Sure,” he finally said. It was worth it, because Kevin looked at him like he had agreed to marry him.
“Perfect. Come here—“
It had been years since Aaron had stood behind a bar, but it came surprisingly easy to him to walk behind the counter and check out all the important places. Aaron took a moment to orient himself in the new space, as if he were expected to work here. Check register. Industrial dishwasher. Sink. Ice. Clean Glasses. It felt oddly comforting to realise that every bar seemed to work the same. When he looked up to Kevin, he was surprised by the crooked, honest smile that looked oddly proud.
“Ever worked behind a bar?”
“Somewhat, yes.”
“I could tell. You know how to orient yourself. Very natural behaviour. Have you ever worked with beer on tap?” Kevin unnecessarily pointed at the tabs on the counter. Aaron had to shake his head.
“No. Never worked in that kind of environment, really.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll tell you what to do.” Kevin started guiding Aaron with a gentle hand on his lower back, which absolutely did nothing to make him feel like Kevin was helping. Instead, Aaron was distracted by Kevin's body heat radiating through Aaron. It felt oddly overwhelming to be guided by Kevin like this, especially when Aaron ended up between the counter and Kevin’s broad body. It wasn't uncomfortable; the bigger man was good at keeping his distance. He was not crowding Aaron in, and he waited patiently until Aaron took the cold glass from his hands and even looked at Aaron questioningly before stepping a bit closer. Aaron caught a whiff of Kevin’s scent, a woody perfume with a sweet spicy note to it barely hiding the musty sweat that Kevin no doubt worked up by spending hours in the warm pub. It was intoxicating to Aaron, and he had to turn to the Guinness tap in front of him to focus on the work.
“Good. Hold the glass at a roughly 45-degree angle on the tap,” Kevin started to guide him. He talked slowly, but not too gently. “No more. Yes, like that. Open the tap fully now.”
Aaron carefully pulled the handle all the way down towards himself, and Kevin hummed in approval.
“Okay, don’t get too comfortable; you have to start adjusting the glass until it is straight. More. Quicker—not as quick. Okay, and close the tap when the beer reaches the top of the harp there. Wait a second. Yes. Now.”
Aaron closed the tap and took a deep sigh. That had been unnecessarily stressful, not helped by Kevin’s strict guidance. Aaron inherently wanted to be good at a task, to impress, and he felt like Kevin was impossible to impress.
“Careful, don’t unsettle it. Here. Put it down. You need to allow it to settle fully.”
“I think you take this too seriously," Aaron grumbled as he put the beer down. He earned a scowl from Kevin in return.
“I wouldn’t expect you to know the intricate flavour profiles of a well-poured beer, so just shut up.”
“You are too rude.”
“And you like it.” Before Aaron had any chance to react to this callous, albeit not entirely untrue, sentence, Kevin impatiently tapped his shoulder. “Okay, see, it is a consistent colour throughout, so now we are going to top it up. Here, push the tap handle like this, in the other direction.”
“What?”
“Other direction, we want less pressure and gas this time. Okay. Yes, like this. Just until the beer is at the rim… yeah. "Well," Kevin took one long look at the glass. “Ideally, the total head height should be like above one but below two centimetres. But we can work with this.” He smiled down at Aaron. “Good job.”
Aaron quickly put the glass down, harsh enough for it to slightly spill. His heart was racing, and everything was sweat and beer and the intoxicating sweet, woody aura of Kevin. Suddenly, he did feel crowded by Kevin. Kevin, however, did not even see that, instead preoccupied with the spillage.
“Well, not like that. And also, ideally, the logo should be facing toward the guest—“
“Kevin, shut up.” Aaron pressed his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes, and trying to reel his body’s unnecessary reaction in.
To his surprise, Kevin shut up. When Aaron removed his hands from his face, Kevin stared down at him, reddish lips slightly open, a crease between his thick eyebrows, the green eyes full of an emotion that could be best described as confusion.
“Sorry. Ehm. You have something—“, Kevin raised his hand, slow enough for Aaron to move away, but Aaron had no intention of stepping back. Instead, he just stood there, staring at green eyes, while Kevin carefully wiped something off Aaron’s eyebrow. He showed the finger to Aaron afterwards, as if he had to prove his reason for touching him. A flock of the thick beer’s foam had been stuck on Aaron’s face, probably from the spill over his hands.
Before Aaron could have had the chance to look for a rag to clean Kevin’s hand, Kevin had moved the finger to his mouth, sucking off the bit of foam. Aaron felt himself blushing. This action should not have been as attractive, and yet… At least, it seemed like Kevin, too, had realised the energy of his action. For a moment, they stood at an impasse, looking at each other with blush colouring their faces, then Kevin turned away.
"Sorry, I have to wash my hand—“ As soon as he had moved to the sink, Aaron had grabbed the sticky pint glass and moved around the counter to bring the beer to Maeve.
Last Call
Aaron did not bother staying for much longer after he brought Maeve her beer. It was late anyways, and after everything, he felt terribly unsettled. He wasn’t doing well in public situations in the best of cases; at least, that's how it usually felt to him—Katelyn had often told him that he was fine, that no one else thought he was weird, but after having been the weird kid for too long, it was not a label one could easily get rid of—and this situation definitely wasn’t the best case. Aaron felt unmoored in a way that he was sure only a few things could settle: drugs, sex, or a good long nap. He was old enough to know that he should settle for the latter.
After a long-winded goodbye, he went back up to the bar to close his tab. He waved Kevin over, tapping his wallet on the counter and purposefully ignoring the Englishman actively working the register.
“I’ll pay for the Budweiser and whatever you gave me afterwards.”
“Leaving already?”
“It is late, and some of us have real jobs.” Aaron instantly regretted saying this. First of all, he didn’t really believe in the idea of disrespecting other jobs. It could have been easy; as a doctor, he had often met people who believed that due to them actually saving lives, other professions were worthless. But they were here now, weren’t they, enjoying Kevin’s work? But worse, secondly, it was very evident that Kevin did not take the words kindly either, judging by the way his lips curled up in distaste. Kevin hadn’t exactly looked welcoming before either, but only now did Aaron realise how open Kevin's expression had been upon seeing Aaron. None of that openness remained now. Suddenly, Kevin was all sharp angles, a frown with a deeply disapproving tilt of his brows, and strong arms crossed across a broad chest. Sullen. Defiant.
“Okay. Goodnight,” he said after a moment of heavy silence, turning away from Aaron again.
“What do I owe you?”
“It is on the house.”
“I just insulted you, and you gift me drinks for that?” Aaron asked, honestly bewildered. Kevin looked back at him, turning his head so he was glancing over his shoulder. His eyes were sharp now, dangerously burning.
“I had decided to gift the drinks to you before you insulted me.”
“You could have taken that decision back.”
“I don’t take things like his back.”
Aaron narrowed his brows and kept his gaze on Kevin, his hair, the back muscles moving under the shirt, the way the pants hugged his—maybe Aaron shouldn’t look. Kevin wasn't his to goggle like that. So instead, Aaron put his head in his neck and took a deep sigh. “Hey. Sorry. Can I give you a tip at least?”
“Leave it there.”
Aaron left it there—way more money than was necessary. Out of guilt or misplaced desire, he couldn't name. He felt helpless and suddenly frustrated. At least being frustrated with himself was a common emotion.
When he left the pub, it was raining. Of course it was. He walked down the street, in the hope of catching a bus. However, when he tried to get his leap out of his wallet, he realised with a punch to the stomach that said wallet wasn’t there. And he knew exactly where it was. On the counter in a pub, where he had put it down to pay for his beers and leave a ridiculous tip.
What a fucking day. It was so cold already. In the rain, Aaron turned around again.
He was not yet halfway to the pub when he realised that a tall, dark figure was quickly walking towards him. Assuming it was someone trying to get home in the horrendous weather, Aaron stepped to the side and was terrified for a moment when he saw the figure slowing down, moving into Aaron’s way. Aaron was already considering all the ways he could defend himself when he recognised the pretty face in the dim street lights. Next to them, a traffic light switched to red, and it made Kevin shine in new colours. They stopped a metre away from each other.
This still could end in a fight, but despite their distance, Aaron could feel the anxiety radiating off Kevin. This was new; Kevin had been so infuriatingly confident and bossy in his pub. Here, in the rainy streets, he had lost that glow of utter confidence. This, too, made him look younger. Thanks to his coworkers’ gossip, Aaron knew that Kevin and he were basically the same age, but right now it didn’t look that way.
They stood in the rain and waited for the other to start talking. The traffic light turned green, bathing them in the brightness of green glass bottles and the shimmer of Kevin’s eyes.
Finally, Aaron took mercy on him: “What is it?”
“Sorry. You. Forgot your wallet on the counter. My mistake.” Kevin reached into his back pocket to pull out the thin leather wallet.
“And you came to bring it? You could have kept it safe behind the bar. Or give it to the people I was with.”
“I thought I could catch up with you though.” Kevin tried to combine his words with a smile, but it looked foreign and forced. Aaron wished he could just wipe it off the taller man’s face. He could not, so instead he simply snatched the wallet out of Kevin’s scarred hand.
“Seems like you could." Aaron felt himself being cold and rude, but what was there to say? Kind gesture or not, Kevin was a stranger. A good-looking stranger, maybe even a kind stranger, but a stranger nevertheless. And if there had been anything between them tonight, Aaron had been an idiot and ruined that.
“Yes. I also wanted to ask you for your number. I am sorry I was rude.” There were many possible sentences that Aaron had imagined Kevin could say. This wasn’t one of them. He struggled to find a proper answer.
“Seems like you are always rude,” was what he finally settled on. Not exactly kindness either. But it made Kevin’s mouth tick up in something closer to the original smile that Aaron had taken for granted too early into the evening.
“Yes,” Kevin agreed, surprisingly docile. “I am always rude. But you are not all flowers and rainbows either, I fear.”
Aaron took a deep sigh. Kevin wasn’t exactly wrong, but there was no need to confirm that. Instead, Aaron settled for an apology as well: “I am sorry for that sentence. It was rude.”
Kevin’s jaw ticked, and he looked into the distance for a moment. The traffic light switched back to red, giving him a hellish halo. “Yes. It was rude," he finally said. "I could have done anything, you know? I could have become a doctor too. I was good at school, and I liked studying. Like reading. I was really good at sports, hurling, until the accident. I could have done anything else. I used to have other dreams.”
It was an odd speech to hold, but Aaron, who himself had always put his worthiness of love on his achievements, understood. This was not Kevin bragging; this was not even Kevin fighting back. This was Kevin sharing a painful truth. And despite everything, Aaron was grateful for that. Only a truth like that could mend their helplessness.
“For all that matters, you are really good at this whole pub thing, too,” Aaron finally said when the silence became too deafening. The light turned green. “Everyone says so. And I am sure your mother would be proud, too.”
Kevin sighed. “So you know about my ma?”
“The others were talking.”
“The others are always talking.”
And wasn't that another painful truth. Aaron nodded slowly. Silence settled over them again, and although this time it was more comforting, it was broken up by Aaron’s shivering.
For a moment Kevin looked at him in confusion, then he cursed quickly. “God, I am so rude. Fuck. Can I take you home? Neil has a car by the pub.”
“Neil? But no. I am fine,” Aaron answered, crossing his arms. It was a bit embarrassing how the shivers ran over him, while Kevin seemed like he barely even realised that he was standing in the rain. He would have loved to blame the difference between a Californian and Irish upbringing, but his circulation and body heat hadn’t been the same since the drug abuse, since the childhood malnutrition. 'No one ever escaped childhood unblemished,' was something Maeve kept saying carelessly in many situations, often in order to lighten up some worried parents. She didn’t understand what that sentence meant to Aaron. What that sentence probably meant to Kevin, with no mother, a mysteriously broken hand, and a certain shadow of nervousness in human interactions outside of the familiar pub setting.
“I think you’ve called him a demon?” A smile twitched at the corner of Kevin’s mouth. Aaron shook his head as soon as he understood.
“I am fine," he quickly reiterated. “I can take the bus now. With my wallet.”
“You are freezing.”
Aaron sighed. “And you are stubborn.”
Kevin shrugged as if this too was a label he simply had learned to accept. “Sure. Let’s go back, please. Either Neil can drive you home, or I can at least give you proper clothes. I live above the pub.”
It had done something to Aaron, the way Kevin had said please. The way he had tried to be kind and soft, even though it all stuck to his sharp edges. The way he was trying. If Aaron had one weakness, it was bad people trying to be better. So he slowly nodded and tried to swallow the warmth he felt when Kevin levelled a real smile at him.
They didn’t talk on the way back, and Kevin didn’t even ask Aaron about his decision before opening the door next to the pub, guiding Aaron up a narrow staircase. The flat was full of things, overwhelmingly so, and smelt like dust, lavender, and heat from old radiators. It surprised Aaron, since this seemed so unlike Kevin, until he took a closer look. This wasn’t Kevin’s flat per se; this still was his mother’s, full of trinkets and books and a lot of pictures. Aaron wondered about mourning and the museum of this woman. He wondered about dead mothers and if a heartlessly and quickly cleared-out house was better than a shrine of remembrance. Kevin went on to look for something, and Aaron stood in the hallway, helpless while looking at pictures of a young, dark-haired child.
“So, either you can wear something of Neil's, or I can offer this jumper of mine—?” Kevin reappeared with a green-grey checkered woollen sweater that he held up for Aaron to inspect. Even now, Kevin still seemed oddly nervous, and for some reason, Aaron couldn’t help but startle the other man with a laugh, sounding slightly too manic. It really wasn’t that funny. Nothing was funny about Kevin’s honest nerves, about the way his long fingers held the woollen sweater, or about the way the rain had flattened his hair and thereby made him more beautiful somehow. And even fewer things were funny about the way Kevin still went looking at Aaron, with nervous care, and how that made Aaron’s chest clench up with a feeling he didn't dare to name.
Aaron had never wanted to be a romantic person, especially not after everything that had happened. He didn’t believe in love developing quickly. Lust? Yes, he could easily tell if he was attracted to people, yes, and it was not difficult to tell that Kevin was a very attractive person. But usually, he didn’t like to trust people, to lose his heart. Yet something about Kevin’s insecurity and sincerity in this hallway, about his smug self-confidence and annoying rudeness in the pub, about the story of dead mothers and broken hands and maybe even annoying somewhat brothers resonated so deeply with Aaron that it scared him.
“Aaron? Are you okay?” Aaron looked up, and there, in front of him, was Kevin standing, looking so alive, with his dark, still-wet hair, bright green eyes, and reddish, kissable lips, which were currently frowning in a mix of worry and nervousness.
“Yes.” Aaron took a deep breath. “Yes. Can I—?” He gestured helplessly towards Kevin. It didn’t seem like Kevin understood what he was agreeing to, but he nodded nevertheless. Carefully, Aaron stepped closer. When he stood just in front of Kevin, he had to put his head in his neck to look up to the pretty face.
“Kevin, do you often take customers into your flat?”
Kevin swallowed visibly, and Aaron couldn’t resist following the movement with his eyes. He had always loved kissing his partners’ necks, and Kevin had an unfairly pretty neck, long and strong, with two small moles that were begging to be worshipped.
“No, never,” Kevin finally mumbled.
It made Aaron smile, although the answer didn't come as a surprise. He waited until Kevin looked into his eyes, and then he stretched his arms, giving Kevin time and space to move away, not unlike what Kevin had done earlier down in the pub. Even before they started kissing, Kevin wrapped his arms around Aaron’s shoulders, pulling him up and closer.
“Yes?” Aaron asked, already oddly breathless.
“Yes,” Kevin mumbled, and then Aaron was the first to breach the distance. It was an odd start, the height difference working to their disadvantage for a moment until they figured it out, and then a clash of teeth as well. Aaron breathed Kevin in, his sweat and perfume, rainwater and alcohol, and it felt like coming home. Aaron didn’t want to believe in romance, but he could tell that this was an immeasurable moment, one of these situations in which you are forced to realise that your life is going to change from now on.
Their teeth clicked helplessly for a moment, and then it finally clicked. Aaron’s lips met Kevin’s, and Aaron knew there was no way back. Kevin was a shy kisser at first, holding back, but Aaron made up for it, kissing Kevin like he needed him to breathe. Maybe he did. For the first time this evening, Aaron felt himself relax, and Kevin easily held his weight up. Slowly, their kiss found its rhythm, lips moving in a synchronised dance instead of fighting with each other. Aaron threw himself into the kiss, into Kevin’s arms, and Kevin caught him every time.
When they moved away from each other, Kevin’s pupils were blown wide and his mouth was opened in shock. “I really don’t do this normally—“ he stammered.
Aaron straightened and took a step back. Maybe this had not been the best idea, but he could feel no wrongness in the way that Kevin was still breathing erratically, staring at Aaron like he was both trying to compose himself and wondering if he should let go of all inhibitions.
“I can tell,” Aaron tried to tease, but his voice too was rough and raw.
“You’re rude.” Kevin’s response came quick and harsh, but this time there was this familiar tint of amusement to it again. Aaron couldn’t help but grin.
“No, I think you are. Exchanging the sweater for my number?” He pointed towards the sweater which Kevin had held crumpled in his hands the entire time. Kevin looked at the piece of clothing as if it were foreign to him. Then, he looked back at Aaron.
“Or you could stay the night, have a hot shower, a cup of tea, and we will figure the rest out as we go?” It was an unbeatable offer, even though Kevin seemed slightly insecure, as if he was expecting Aaron to deny it. Yet, Aaron nodded before he even thought about it.
It was worth the uninhibited smile on Kevin’s face.