Chapter Text
The wedding hasn't even started and Lucas is already done with it all.
It will be a three-day affair. The Friday evening pre-party, the actual wedding and feast on Saturday, and Sunday to recover, with brunch and day at the spa. His cousin’s fiancés’ grandparents have spared no expense - the entire castle is decorated in lavish style, with lights and candles everywhere, bouquets of sumptuous flowers, and an illuminated fountain. Lucas even thinks he saw a few peacocks strutting around majestically.
It’s funny because he knows this place. They used to sneak around here when they were kids because this was the most intriguing place in the village and the owners were away living in their other residencies most of the time anyway. So...to be here under these circumstances feels weird. His cousin has really done well for herself, he guesses. Gone off and married the town millionaire.
And here he is, with his lagging career, and the promised plus one nowhere in sight. He knows his and Antoine’s relationship was on the rocks, but a breakup two days before this wedding ? What a fucking asshole. He’d tried to ask his friends to accompany him, but he’d had significant bad luck on that front as well - Manon was off on a last minute assignment to cover some political event in London, Imane had a romantic weekend planned with Sofiane, and Arthur and Basile were too swamped with a work deadline. Yann had finally gotten a date with the girl he’d liked for ages, and Lucas knew he would have cancelled if Lucas had insisted, but he couldn’t do that to his best friend. No use spreading the affective misery, after all.
So here he is, walking in alone. Sort of pathetic, really. He doesn’t know what he’s looking forward to the least - avoiding that one uncle who gets loudly homophobic when he gets drunk, his cousins bragging about all their latest career accomplishments and expensive cars they’re planning to buy, his aunts and their friends throwing him looks of pity and trying to set him up with every single gay person that ever crossed their path….Oh joy.
Which is why, as soon as he’s done putting his things in his assigned room in the guesthouse, he heads straight to the bar, without greeting anybody.
Rude, he knows. But sometimes, you just gotta.
…
The castle, of course, has its own party suite in the basement, that Lucas finds by asking the way to an elderly woman with more makeup than face and overly tanned beef jerky for arms. It's a gigantic room set up like a cross between a gentleman’s club and a tacky nightclub from the eighties. Plush carpet, wooden paneled walls, several billiard and black-jack and other game tables, a few disco balls hanging on the ceiling and threatening to be used.
And of course, the bar, its counter made of massive oak jutting out like the prow of a ship, the wall behind covered in a thousand glass tiles behind shelves and shelves of the most expensive looking liquor bottles he’s ever seen in his life. The party has started, some lounge music in the background, but the energy in the room feels very lifeless, as people have gathered in small groups, talking and looking at each other awkwardly.
Lucas plops himself down on one of the designer bar stools. He knows he’s late, most guests have already arrived and the polite thing to do would be to look up the people he knows, but he won’t survive introductions without some magic juice. He needs to be at least solidly tipsy first before he heads into battle.
“Whisky-cola, please.”
“Seriously ?”
The bartender turns around and Lucas does a split-second double take. He notices two things.
First, this might be the most beautiful man he’s ever seen. Like - next level handsome. Wild curls that seem to have a life of their own, cheekbones he could cut himself on, and wide, catlike blue-green eyes that light up the room. He looks like an angel, like music should accompany him when he walks into a room.
And two, his tone and face are positively radiating judgment.
Lucas feels a powerful sudden kick of annoyance. Of course. Of course those pretentious pricks would hire rude-ass models as staff. They’re all no substance, all flash.
“Oh I’m sorry, were you only hired to stand there and look pretty ? I mean it’s just mixing two things, how difficult can it be ?”
The bartender’s expression turns murderous as he puts down the towel.
“Well, I’m starting to reconsider what I was hired for. I thought it was because I won the regional cocktail making awards twice, and they paid me an insane amount of money to be here, but I’m starting to think what they actually wanted me to do is babysit and make gross mixers for judgmental assholes who think being shitty to the staff makes their balls bigger.”
Lucas feels a flush of embarrassment at misreading the situation, but he can’t back off now, so he scoffs.
“Wow, I bet those awards didn't test for customer service, then.”
The bartender stares at him, narrowing his eyes. Lucas feels like he's sizing him up and trying to look into his very soul, and out of nowhere he gets this strange feeling that he doesn't want to come up short.
So he relents, and sighs.
“I'm sorry, okay. Didn't mean to be an asshole. But like. Aren't bartenders supposed to be all soulful and understanding and wise and shit ? I need some support here, of the liquid kind. I'm just not gonna make it out alive otherwise.”
The bartender’s face immediately softens at Lucas's apology, and he smirks. Like he's changing his mind and just realized they were both riding off a very similar kind of generalized annoyance that wasn't actually aimed at each other. And like he knows it would be stupid to be mad at Lucas in particular.
Goddammit. He's very, very cute.
“What ?”
“Don't you think you're being a little dramatic ? I mean you got free booze and this place isn't exactly the pits.”
Lucas looks around and can't stop the loathing for showing up on his face.
“You don't know these people. They're extremely pretentious and they know every single embarrassing thing I've done as a kid. It's the worst combo in the world.”
The bartender laughs, and it flies high and lovely above the irritating lounge music in the background.
Then he extends his hand over the bar. Lucas stares at it for a minute, dumbfounded, before eventually taking it.
“Um. Hi. I'm Lucas.”
The grip is firm. His hands are calloused in a way that speak of hard work, but soft at the same time.
And he leans forward slightly, his eyes boring into Lucas's, whose stomach is doing strange loops.
“Hi Lucas, I'm Eliott, and I will be your support tonight, liquid or otherwise.”
Then he lets go. Lucas feels a flash of regret. Oh no.
Aware that he has to be violently blushing right now, Lucas looks down at his hands and tries to keep his cool.
“So, whiskey cola, huh ? I guess there's no accounting for taste, but at least you are pretty.”
And he winks.
Holy shit, is this guy real ? Lucas is too charmed to feel insulted again. Maybe this weekend won't be that shitty after all. And well, he called him pretty first. Which was actually super rude.
“No, forget about that” he answers. “Just make me something.”
“Something ?”
“Whatever you think I would like.”
Eliott lets out a short, surprised laugh.
“Oh, you're a risk-taker, are you ?”
Lucas shrugs.
“I like discovering new things.”
Eliott's eyes shoot to a particular bottle up on the wall behind him and Lucas sees what looks like a whole ass snake marinating in the liquor.
“Um” he lets out nervously. “You know, within reason.”
Eliott smiles at him, and puts his hand on his heart.
“Don't worry, your taste buds are safe with me.”
Then he gets to work, stopping to think from time to time. Lucas can't take his eyes off Eliott's hands as he opens up various bottles, crushes ice, cuts up lemon and herbs. Big, strong hands with long, agile fingers that are obviously very, very dexterous.
Oh for fuck's sake. He's just come out of a messy, draining breakup and he's at a family gathering. He knows people usually get wild at those sort of occasions but. He's never been the one night stand type, and this guy seems sweet and funny. He deserves better than to be somebody's rebound.
Plus the guy is working. He's probably just being nice, and Lucas taking advantage of that would be super creepy. He's probably one of those people who is just a little flirty with everyone. Right ? Right.
“Okay, I'm done.”
He sets a drink in front of Lucas. Served in an old fashioned flat bottom crystal glass, half full with golden, fizzy liquid over ice, finished with a sprig of rosemary. It looks quite innocuous, and Lucas didn't see Eliott even reach towards the snake bottle, so.
He takes a sip.
Holy shit.
This is...incredible. He's never tasted anything like this before.
There's a hint of fruity sweetness, but the tart aftertaste keep it from becoming too much. Probably lemon. A little bit of bitter, too, maybe like a martini, but herbal. And then, as he rolls it over his tongue, a surprising finishing kick that almost tastes like spice.
He takes another sip. It's a ride from start to finish. He's always thought that the point of alcohol was to get wasted but this ? He might actually enjoy it for itself. Take the time to drink it.
He looks up to see Eliott stare at him, expectantly.
“So, what do you think.”
“It's, um, wow. It's really good.” He laughs, a little bashful.”Definitely better than whiskey cola. Um, what do you call that ?”
Eliott looks smug, and damn, even that fits him.
“I made it up myself. I call it the Hedgehog. Sparkling water, herbal bitters, lemon, hint of honey. And sloe gin, which they make by marinating wild berries in gin. You generally find those in hedges, and they have to be frozen at least once before they get ripe.”
Clever. The guy clearly is passionate about this stuff. Lucas can't help but feel he's being tested. He curls the tip of his tongue inside of his mouth, tries to focus on the aftertaste.
“Ok, but there has to be something else, like, the thing at the end, like...chili ?”
Eliott grins.
“Almost. Pepper. It's the little surprise. Prickly and fiery but sweet inside. Do you think it fits you ?"
Lucas doesn't know what to say to that, so he just drinks and tries to keep himself from smiling too much like a gigantic idiot.
“You really like it, huh. Have I discovered your favorite drink ?”
Actually, he might very well have. But Lucas doesn't quite want to give him the satisfaction. Plus, he's afraid that if he says yes, Eliott will consider him a solved riddle and focus on other customers and he really can't have that.
So Lucas shrugs.
“Eh, I liked it. But I can't quite say it's my favorite, no.”
Eliott looks deflated for a second, but then he narrows his eyes.
“A difficult customer, then. Okay, I like a challenge. Besides, we have all night.”
Oh man. Lucas definitely needs a bigger glass to hide his smile in again.