A night at the Angel's bar (part 1)

Quackity was at the local club, tending the bar as usual. It was quieter than normal, which was unusual especially for a Friday night, though he wasn't complaining about it. It was nice to have a little time to relax, show off a few tricks while he made drinks. Much better than being practically swamped with orders, overly drunk people pestering him for another round and of course they're was always the overly flirty people trying to catch his attention and make a move. Quackity softly hummed along to whatever pop song was playing over the speakers, letting his mind drift to wherever considering the bar was practically empty as of right now.

"Not so busy tonight, ay?" Quackity almost didn't hear the man, his soothing voice pulling him from his thoughts. He blinked, looking up to see a rather tall man with soft brown curls, gold rimmed glasses on his face, chocolatey brown eyes behind them. The guy had a sort of charisma about himself, looked prideful in his appearance, seemed slightly cocky from the way he held his head up. Quackity definitely wasn't admiring him at all, just taking in the little features about him purely out of boredom or at least that's what Quackity told himself. How his glasses were slightly crooked, most likely from one too many fights or perhaps plain old clumsiness. The few freckles and beauty marks dotted across his face. The way his eyes crinkled as the brunette flashed him a warm smile. Quackity mentally shook his head, trying to clear his mind so that he wasn't just stood there being unresponsive to the others words as if he were some robot that needed recharging. 

The duck hybrid cleared his throat before speaking. "Yeah, and I'm glad for it. Much more relaxing, and my customers get a little more of a show than usual.." Quackity didn't necessarily mean to make it sound so flirty, but well he wasn't complaining. The man was conventionally attractive, so was probably used to it. And hey, there was always the chance he'd flirt back. It'd spice up his shift a little. As much as he liked relaxing on these quieter shifts, he was starting to get bored and this would be a great chance to change that.

"Oh really?" The mysterious man raised a brow before his sof- regular lips twitched into a smirk. "Why don't you give me a show then, hm feathers?" The Brunettes gaze stayed fixed on Quackity's. 

Despite the rising warmth that settled onto Quackity's cheeks, he was quick to chirp back a response. "Nicknames already, huh? So forward, lover boy" In turn, Quackity noticed the pink hue now adorned on his cheeks. He felt prideful at how he was so quick with that comment, and definitely not because he managed to fluster the other. 

A warm, honey coated laugh reverberated from the man's chest. "You're one to talk, Mr. I can put on a show for you" 

Quackity scoffed, "Its not like I'm lying, since its practically a graveyard in here, I've got time to add some extra pizazz while making drinks, really show off my bartending skills" Quackity paused to look the man up and down before continuing to speak. "So you gonna order anything or what? I can't give you that show you oh so clearly want without a reason to put one on"

"Shouldn't I be enough of a reason?" The Brunette gestured to himself, cocky smile on his face. Quackity felt himself wanting to slap it clean off but alas he had an image to keep up. The duck hybrid opened his mouth to speak, the taller beating him to it. "Double Vodka and coke please, but only since you insist on giving me this show"

"I- what. I do not insist. I could care less about putting on some silly show, it really doesn't matter to me. If anything, its merely something to pass the time aswell as to stop my brain frying itself from the lack of stimulation" Quackity scoffed, rolling his eyes. A glint of mischief flashed across the brunettes face, a smug smile accompanying the look. Quackity swiftly narrowed him a warning glare, all witty remarks disintegrating on his tongue like the embers of a flame being dying out.

A few more moments passed before the man spoke once more, British accent thickening. "I must say, your wings are absolutely gorgeous, ducky. Reminds me of an angel," The way his eyes raked over Quackity's wings, accompanied by that god forsaken voice caused a shiver to go down his spine, a few feathers ruffling themselves up a bit. "Oh and sorry to be a bother but could I switch my order to a blowjob, perhaps?" He smirked, raising a brow at Quackity. His eyes flicked down to Quackity's mouth. "If you're capable."

A light blush wormed its way onto Quackity's face, the ravenette hoping the other wouldn't pick up on it. Knowing that literally anything he said in response to that would be a trap, he simply gave the man a tight smile and pulled out the coffee liqueur. Silently cursing whomever invented such a stupid drink. Quackity kept his cool for now, not wanting to let the yellow sweatered man think he'd gotten to him. After all, he'd just get his sweet, sweet revenge later. It was no biggie.

As he poured, the man watched him without blinking, eyes flicking around on his body as if he were under some kind of inspection. "You have quite steady hands."

"Comes with the territory," Quackity said shortly. "Bartending is a lot more expensive with shaky hands."

"You seem stressed," The man observed, seeming unbothered by the other's tension. One of his fingers played idly with his lip from where it was propped up his head. Quackity questioned yet again how soft those lips actually were. The ravenette swiftly averted his gaze. "Penny for your thoughts?" The man questioned the other. 

Quackity snorted at the use of the phrase. "My thoughts are worth far more than that, buddy." His eyes flicked up to the brunette. "And if I seem agitated, I've just had to deal with a lot of difficult people lately, so it's just been a long-ass couple of weeks. Thought today I'd actually get a break from things since it's been so quiet" One of those difficult people being you, clear in the subtext of his words, as he reached for the cream, twisting off the top.

The man hummed. "Oh, I've had many of those days. Difficult people, difficult situations, so much stress. Sometimes the tension just builds and builds and is sort of… released onto the nearest person."

Quackity's face twitched, nearly messing up his pour. "That's one way of putting it," He said neutrally.

"Of course, that always causes such a mess," He commented, flicking a hand out for the dramatics. He's definitely a theatre kid, thought Quackity. "So many people really don't enjoy having to deal with all of that" Quackity turned away to put the cream away and grabbed the whip cream canister with a bit more force than necessary.

The Brit continued, voice unfaltering and light, "Having all that pressure just shoved down their throat, it's a lot to handle for many people." When Quackity turned around, he accidentally made direct eye contact. Darkened brown eyes were locked onto him, and in the low light of the casino bar they looked like the coffee liqueur at the bottom of the man's shot glass, now hidden under a layer of heavy, alcoholic cream.

The man smiled at him, teeth glimmering slightly in the low light, and the smug look made his blood boil. "I've been told that I am very good at handling whatever people thrust upon me," He murmured, his free hand drawing gentle shapes on the countertop with the tip of his pointer finger.

An image wound its way into Quackity's mind. Hands grabbing roughly, pulling eachother closer, bodies pressed together, heated kisses shared between witty remarks..

Quackity shook the whipped cream can roughly and sprayed some into the glass, beyond any kind of showmanship at this point out of sheer frustration and something else he refused to name. He shoved it towards the man. "Your drink," He said gruffly, and hoped the man would take the hint to just fucking leave because Quackity was about to boil over.

He had had such a long day despite the lack of customers. He had just about had it with everything. The man looked him directly in the eye. He stood up, getting off his barstool, and he clasped his hands behind his back.

Quackity's jaw dropped.

The man bent down, placing his whole mouth around the glass, and in a smooth single movement threw his head back. His throat bobbed as he swallowed the entire shot, and once every last drop of the drink had drained out of the glass and into his mouth, only then did he gently lower the glass back onto the countertop, eyes locked to the bartender. His lips left the glass with a little pop, and he licked his lips with a hum, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment or two.

Quackity's jaw slammed shut, mouth beginning to salivate, thoughts clouding over in a mix of lust and fury. 

The man's eyes slid open, and he smirked at the shorter man. "I know how to swallow a blowjob shot properly, angel," He said smugly, almost criticizing him for his lack of faith. "I'm experienced with these kind of things.." That was it. That was the last straw. Quackity's patience snapped.