#neil: throwing around flirts for food and profit

[whatmack]

so uhm, incubus neil 👉🏻👈🏻

bitch don’t TEMPT me into re-opening that monsters-as-monsters au I have I’ve been staring at it for the past Week  ----

“So like, how does it work? With your whole...thing.” Neil considered the shot glass on the table in front of him. He’d been ignoring Nicky for fifteen minutes, and it was starting to lose its charm. Sooner or later Nicky would get bored, and that meant either that he’d leave Neil alone to find a more reactionary target (good) or he’d start singing off-key pop music until Neil got annoyed enough to talk to him (bad). He chanced a glance over. Nicky’s grin was all-cylinders-firing, dimple flashing in the club lights. It was a smile that said Taylor Swift is never more but a second away.

“I don’t need to feel the attraction to be able to pick up on it,” Neil said, giving in. Nicky drummed his hands on the table in triumph and then leaned closer, gesturing to his oh-so-listening ear. “People aren’t subtle. Especially in places like this.” He nodded towards the dancefloor. The mass of crotch-grinding bodies didn’t react to the insult.  “Doesn’t that get weird, though? It’s gotta suck if you’re not into it. Do people get mad at you?” Neil stared blankly into Nicky’s face. “I eat them. They don’t have a chance to be mad at me.” “Kinky,” Nicky said, waggling his eyebrows. Neil picked up the empty shot glass and shoved the tacky rim against Nicky’s ear. Nicky yelped and jerked back, pawing at the side of his head. “Hey! Ew!” “When are your-- people getting here, anyway?” Neil asked, as Nicky used the excuse of shaking off vodka droplets to flip his hair in the direction of a man in a sparkly crop-top. The man paused, eyeing Nicky with interest, and Neil kicked Nicky under the table to keep him from getting distracted. “Ow! You’re so mean to me!” “You’ll get over it.” “Never,” Nicky promised, clutching his hand to his chest. Neil dodged the return kick. “And they’re not people, they’re cousins. I told you.”

“Must’ve tuned that out,” said Neil. He hopped down from the bar stool, rolling his shoulders. The thin plastic straw from Nicky’s drink bounced off his chest; Nicky had thrown it at him. Neil made a rude gesture over his shoulder as he headed towards the bar, slipping through the spaces between bodies. His skin tingled with the press of all this human, sweat and hair and glossed-up lips; the things they were offering. Touch me. Kiss me. Fuck me. Neil wouldn’t even have to try, to take one in the back alley and eat his fill. Just a smile and the tilt of his head. Maybe not even the smile. He swallowed down the urge to feed and set his palm flat on the bar, gesturing for the bartender with the dollar bill tucked between the fingers of his other hand. Roland shot a grin his way, already reaching for the glasses; he knew Neil’s order. It never changed. Someone jostled Neil from behind. Neil sighed and leaned forward, to get out of the way.  Then he felt the prick of steel. Neil held very still. “Can I help you?” “You must be Neil,” said a voice, right against the nape of Neil’s neck. Neil gritted his teeth against a flinch. He should have heard the person coming; he should have sensed them. Something was wrong. “No,” Neil said, slowly. Deliberately calm, though his heart was racing. “It’s Theopold, actually. Theopold Hornswallow.” “Oh, he thinks he’s funny.” The knife withdrew. Neil twisted around, leaving his cash on the bar, and blinked as he stared into a pair of eyes just barely below his own. Short motherfucker: huh. “If you wanted somethin’, all you had to do was ask,” Neil said, letting his voice drop low. He didn’t care enough to take this man out back-- he just wanted to keep him from stabbing him again.  The man’s forehead pinched. He opened his mouth, but before he could respond Nicky’s voice cut through the crowd, accompioned by flailing arms. “Andrew! Andrew, fucking there you are, you have to meet-- oh you have! Neil, baby,” Nicky said, wrestling past a couple attempting to exchange tonsils, “This is Cousin Number One. Now you know what they both look like: they’re twins. Let me find the other one for you.” He blew a kiss at either Neil or the cousin, or maybe both of them, and disappeared back into the swirling display of hedonism.  “That’s how you knew my name,” Neil said, not taking his eyes off of Andrew. “Why didn’t you lead with that?” Andrew shrugged. He flipped the knife over the back of his hand, stance loosening now that Neil was no longer trying to seduce him. “If you hadn’t been able to deal with it this way, you wouldn’t have been worth it. Hey,” he said over Neil’s shoulder; Roland had appeared with Neil’s drinks. Andrew held up three fingers. Roland pinched his hand like he was picking up a coin, grin unrepentant. Andrew scowled. “You could reach your wallet easier if you put the knife away,” Neil said. “Interesting,” said Andrew, and failed to explain.  (No matter how many times, that night, Neil tried to get it out of him by fluttering his eyelashes.)