davin | (no subject)

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He was supposed to have the day off. That didn't quite happen.

His phone woke up him at nine, and on the other end was his distraught mother. A pipe in his parents' basement had burst, and even though Davin is a mechanic and not a plumber, he was the one she called. Funny how she refuses to acknowledge his magic until she needs to take advantage of it.

His dad's out of town on business, so it was up to Davin to calm his mother and keep the basement from his childhood home from flooding. He sat his mother down on the sofa and turned off the water before heading down to the basement with his tools. He was able to use his magic to cut through the ruined section of pipe and hold up the new one so he could solder it in place, and then he cleaned up the basement as best he could.

He emerged hours later, wet and dirty and in a lousy mood, and his mother demanded he stay for tea before he could leave.

Now he's freshly showered, hair still a little damp at the ends as it sticks up everywhere, and he's wandering through the town's main drag as he tries to decide how to spend his evening. Beer will make an appearance at some point, surely.

He's weighing the pros and cons of pub food when someone brushes by him, and a streetlight glints off of some metal sliding out of the person's pocket. Davin stares at the keys as they fall and wills them to stop mid-air, holding out his hand and sending the keys flying through the air to land gently in his palm.

"Excuse me," he calls out, his Irish accent a little thicker due to his exhaustion. He shakes the keys out, peering out to try and see if he recognizes the person. "I think you dropped these."

[Come meet Davin! He's lived in Siren Cove since he was a kid, so if your character has been around for awhile they may recognize him. All his info is here, but the bullet points are: 22 year old gay Irish witch/mechanic who just wants a damn beer.]

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"Gabe," he says, reaching out to take Davin's hand, shaking it warmly. "Though I recognised you. You're in here a lot, right?" He gestures to the girl behind the bar for two pints of Guinness."

"Novelty still hasn't worn off, I guess. I suppose I've become a wee bit of a lush since my 21st, but I'm Irish. It's expected." He winks at Gabe as he grabs his pint and takes a long sip, letting out a sigh of pleasure. He licks a bit of foam from the corner of his mouth and curls his slender fingers possessively around the cold glass.

"I like this place because there's no TV's playin' football." He smirks and looks around at the divey atmosphere that draws him to the place. "I'm not one for denyin' anyone their passions, but I do my best to stay away from football fans on Sunday, just for me own mental health."

"Nothing wrong with being a lush," says Gabe, smirking against the rim of his glass. He doesn't mean to stare, really he doesn't, but he's seen people give head with less care and attention than Daven's drinking that pint with. Gabe's not nearly drunk enough for that.

"Yeah. I like to concentrate on my drinking," he says, raising his glass in a lazy toast.

"Aye, I'll drink to that." Davin clinks his glass against Gabe's and takes another long sip, throat working as he swallows. He sets the glass down and wipes the corner of his mouth with his thumb. Gabe may be staring a bit, but he can't be sure. He'd like to think so.

"God, I'm starvin'." He plucks the laminated food menu from up the bar and peruses, cheeks pink as he gets the feeling that he's being watched. "Pub food's always a gamble, but I think I'm feelin' a bit lucky tonight."

"Are you really?" Says Gabe and, maybe, he's not drunk enough to be bold, yet, but he's definitely interested. "Usually it's not so bad here. Maybe your luck'll hold all night."

"Well, luck's sort of our thing, don't ya know?" He says it in an exaggerated accent and chuckles as he takes another long swallow of his beer. "So yeah, I'm thinkin' it just might."

He gives Gabe a lingering look and then turns to flag down the bartender to order a burger and fries.

Gabe and his brothers might all carry Irish names but they're a long, long way from an accent like that. Gabe likes that accent more than he's about to admit. He likes the look more, though.

"So," he says, turning his glass idly. "You look like you've had a shitty day."

"Ah well, I got no right complainin'. I just had such a long week at work and today was my only day off, but me mam woke me up and made he come over to perform manual labor. The woman barely speaks to me unless she needs something." He realizes that he's rambling and blushes slightly, ducking his head. He sucks in a breath and smiles a little, turning his head and resting his chin on his hand, elbow propped up on the bar.

"What about you? Was your day any better?"

"Sounds familiar," says Gabe, grin only getting wider when Davin blushes like that. "Even with Connor at home, my Ma can be an unholy terror when she needs me to do something." He's staring, isn't he? Jesus. "Took the boat out. Decent catch. Engine trouble but nothing I can't deal with."

He raises a curious eyebrow and sits up a little straighter, trailing his fingertip through the condensation on the outside of his glass. "Connor?"

His voice stays casual, but he thinks something might be brewing here and he's not about to mess around with someone in a relationship.

"My kid brother," says Gabe, recognising that look and taking some level of encouragement from it. "He's the youngest and then there's Oisin and Eoin in the middle."

Davin's shoulders loosen and he smiles, from both relief and the names he's hearing. He lets out a throaty chuckle and knocks back the rest of his beer, setting the glass down and resting his face against his palm again, turning fully towards Gabe. "Sounds like your clan came from my neck o' the woods."

He remembers something that was mentioned earlier, eyes sparking with interest. "You mentioned engine trouble. That's sort of my specialty."

"Long, long way back," he says, nodding, shoving his hair back from his face with one hand. He tilts his head, studying Davan for a long moment. "How are you with boat-engines? She's an old lady, but what can I say? She's the love of my life."

Lies. But close enough.

"Careful, I may get jealous." He winks and then sits up when his burger and fries is set down in front of him. His stomach growls slightly and he cuts the burger in half before taking a bite. Sauce dribbles down to the webbing between his thumb and forefinger and he sucks it away once he's finished with his bite. He signals for a refill on his beer and sets his burger down once he's taken another quick bite. "God, sorry. I haven't eaten all day."

He laughs self-consciously and grabs a napkin, cheeks pink as he wipes his face. He side eyes the fries and snatches one, taking a bite and swallowing quickly. "I can find my way around just about any engine. Haven't found one that's stumped me yet. I could take a look under your hood."

He says it with a straight face, amber eyes wide as he pulls another fry into his mouth.

"Promises, promises," says Gabe and then he reaches out and snags one of Davan's fries, popping it into his mouth, smirking as he chews. The more he sees of that blush, the more interested he is in seeing how dark he can make it go.

"The thing about me," Davin starts, "is that I don't make promises that I don't intend to keep."

He looks Gabe over with an arched brow and then smiles to himself as he turns to take another bite of his burger. He licks sauce from his thumb, maybe making a bit of a show of sucking the tip of it clean, and then reaches for his fresh pint.

Davin's feeling a bit of a thrill, flirting like this. It isn't something that he does often, and he isn't sure that he's any good at it, but Gabe seems interested enough. And god, he could use a night of no strings attached fun. He looks over at Gabe from under his lashes with the soft pink bow of his mouth pulled up into an easy smile.

That thumb thing? Isn't playing fair and Gabe reckons that Davin knows that. Gabe does make the fact that he's staring obvious. He steals another fry.

"Me either, man."

"You look hungry. Seeing anything you like?" His eyes flash with amusement as he slides a menu over to Gabe, leaving his hand curled around the edge of the bar just next to him as he leans in slightly.

"I'm sort of content stealing your fries," says Gabe, craning his neck to pretend to look at the menu. The sides of his fingers graze against Davin's.

"My fries are all you're lookin' at, aye?" He grabs a fry with his free hand and bites off half of it with a smile, eyes on Gabe's face as their hands brush. He drags the tips of his fingers across the delicate skin inside of Gabe's wrist and then sits up with a smirk. He slides the plate over to him and them and picks up his glass, letting the edge of rest just below his bottom lip as he speaks. "I hope they satisfy ya."

"They'll do for now," says Gabe, suppressing a shiver when Davin's fingers brush against his wrist. "But I'll totally be hungry again."

"Oh yeah?" The stools are fixed in place so he can't exactly move closer, but he does lean in a bit, strong forearms resting on the bar with his fingertips trailing through the condensation on his glass, drawing nonsensical patterns. He pitches his voice low and a little rough, puts a little want into it. "You thinkin' dessert?"

It's been a long time since Gabe actually had to flirt with anyone. Bach doesn't count. He does glance up, checking that nobody's watching them too closely before he drops his hand, fingers grazing Davin's knee.

"I could definitely go for something sweet."

Davin shivers a bit at the touch and smiles warmly over at him. He's a physical, tactile person and it's been too long since he's been touched in any sort of intimate way. Excitement flushes through him, making his cheeks pink and his pupils wide, and he places his hand over Gabe's to drag it to his inner thigh while meeting his eyes. "I bet I'm pretty sweet."

It's a bit forward, but he's a little turned on and two pints deep, and fortune favors the bold, as the saying goes. And it's not like they don't both know where the night's headed, anyway.

Davin's looking forward to it.

Even through denim, he's aware of the heat of Davin's skin under his palm. He presses gently, fingers against the seam that traces Davin's inner thigh.

"I bet," he says. Honestly, it always just feels good to be wanted.