Chapter Text
The thing is, Fadel showed up for this date to silence his brother Bison's constant nagging about how he needs to put himself out there more, start socializing, and begin dating. Since walking away from their lives as hitmen, Bison has found himself in a seemingly happy romance with a tattoo artist named Kant.
Love and romance are not exactly what Fadel is seeking at the moment, as his tolerance for such matters is low. Based on his experiences, love requires a high level of commitment, patience, time, emotional investment, and effort- all of which sound like stress to Fadel. He would much rather invest those resources into his passion as the owner and chef of a burger restaurant.
Bison has different ideas for Fadel and hasn’t stopped nagging him for the past few weeks. As it turns out, Bison’s boyfriend has a best friend named Style. Style is apparently a single, attractive mechanic whom both Bison and Kant believe is perfect for Fadel.
“We told Style about you, and he wants to meet you,” Bison said to Fadel two days ago.
“So?” Fadel sidestepped Bison to go and stand by the counter and finish marinating his chicken. Recently, Fadel proudly added some fried chicken recipes to his menu.
“So, go on a date with him. Just one.”
“No.”
“Oh, Fadel. Must you always be so stubborn?” Bison scowled reprovingly
“I’m not being stubborn. I’m just not interested.”
“How would you know that you’re not interested? You haven’t even met Style.”
Fadel didn’t reply. Bison walked up to him and continued talking, “Just one date. If it doesn’t work out, I won’t bug you about this anymore.”
Fadel gave his brother a doubtful look, “We both know you’re lying.”
Bison blinked owlishly, then sighed and rolled his eyes, “Okay, whatever. Just give Style a chance. Please?”
“Why is this so important to you?”
“Look, I know I wanted to be in love when I met Kant, but being in love is nice. You might not want it now, but you never know how you’ll feel about it when it comes your way. We are no longer hit men, and there is less to be skeptical about. Give yourself a chance to live a normal life.”
“Alright!” Fadel finally and begrudgingly conceded with a dramatic display of reluctance, mostly because he is tired of listening to his brother go on and on about the same thing. Maybe if Fadel went out on this date with Style and it failed, he would have an excuse to stay away from the dating scene thereafter.
That’s how Fadel finds himself at this little hole-in-the-wall bar and restaurant, sitting across from Style. Apart from how wary Fadel still is about this date, he admits to himself that he is blown away by how attractive Style is. The moment he walked in, his allure jumps out at Fadel immediately. Tall- about Fadel’s own height- an impossibly pretty face for a guy, and a waist entirely too sexy and slender to be real. It seriously has Fadel wondering about Style’s workout routine.
Also, Style shows up here wearing a fucking crop top. That’s how Fadel gets quite the perfect view of Style’s waistline. Style’s full outfit is a bit…much for Fadel’s tastes, because he has never quite seen someone in that combination of clothes; but at least it doesn’t take away from Style’s allure. It gives Style a playful and youthful vibe, which isn’t altogether bad.
“You’re much hotter in real life than in the pictures I saw,” Style is saying to Fadel
Oh, and Style is a talker. The guy doesn’t seem to have a filter at all. Since he got here, he hasn’t closed his mouth for more than three seconds, maybe. What he is on about, only heaven knows. Fadel has been too busy sipping on his beer and staring at Style’s pretty lips the entire time.
“Do you always wear black clothes? You had on black clothes in the pictures I saw and you’re in black tonight,” Style continues talking. Before Fadel can answer, he goes on, “The look gives you a mysterious vibe. It also goes with your tan skin.”
Fadel also thinks Style has a really nice smile and set of teeth. He can’t stop thinking about how pretty Style is.
Silence. Style lifts an eyebrow at Fadel as if expectantly, and Fadel answers by lifting his as well in an asking manner.
“So, is black your thing?” Style asks as if he is deliberating why Fadel hasn’t answered the question.
Fadel stares at Style, wondering if he should tell Style that he is talking too fast and too much for him to get a word in. For some reason, Fadel doesn’t feel like being that mean about it, so he just answers the question. “I’m more inclined towards darker colors.”
“I’m the opposite. If I could wear all colors and prints at once, I would.”
“I can tell.”
“The body should be a canvas.”
“No one really says that.”
“I say it.”
“Do you also always wear sunglasses indoors at night?”
“There’s no reason not to.”
“Is it sensible?”
“Fuck sense. Life is an adventure. Overthinking things is a thief of joy.”
Fadel wonders if Style thinks at all. Although, the theories that Style appears to live by aren’t so bad. Fadel is on the opposite of that, and he admits that while he finds peace in being in control, it can be burdensome and boring at times.
Since Style claims to be on the wild side of life, Fadel has to test one thing, “I used to be a hit man.” He randomly relays
Silence.
Style’s jaw drops, and he lowers his glasses in obvious shock. “Are you kidding?”
Fadel shakes his head. “So you…killed people-”
Already sensing where Style’s question is going, Fadel cuts in to elaborate, “For money, yes.”
Somewhere deep down, Fadel is telling this to Style just to be mean and hopefully scare him off. Style is undoubtedly very attractive physically, and his personality, riotous as it seems, doesn’t seem that unbearable, and is even mildly amusing, actually. But Fadel is still uncertain about dating seriously again.
Style appears to process that information for a moment, and then his face transforms completely as he laughs lightly and says, “Cool.”
It is Fadel’s turn to be shocked, “What do you mean cool?”
Style shrugs a shoulder, “What do you want me to say?” He looks genuinely clueless, like he doesn’t understand Fadel’s qualm.
“Isn’t that a red flag for you?”
“Do you spit on the street?”
Fadel has a momentary confusion from the quick change of subject but adjusts, “That’s disgusting.”
“Do you cut in line when you go to places where you have to queue up?”
“No. That’s rude.”
“Do you gamble?”
“No.”
“Are you impolite to elders?”
“I try to avoid drawing negative attention to myself.”
“Then you’re a catch,” Style says with such finality as though there is nothing else to discuss.
Fadel is still surprised. “You’re okay with the fact that I’ve killed people as long as I don’t spit on the ground in public?”
“It’s a nasty habit, that.”
Fadel stares intently at Style, realizing he has never encountered anyone like him. Someone with such logic, yet who accepts Fadel's biggest flaw without hesitation. He ponders that maybe he still doesn’t want to date just anyone, but he wants to date Style. He wants to know more about Style- who he is, and why he is the way he is. He longs to see how bold and creative Style’s fashion sense can get. He yearns to know what Style’s captivating lips would feel like against his own. Fadel even desires the experience of holding onto Style’s stunningly beautiful waistline.
So, “How do you feel about heavy metal music?” Fadel asks with the intention of inviting Style on a second date.
“I fucking hate it, but we can go to that.”
“You just said that you hate it.”
“You asked the question, so you must like heavy metal. It’s the first thing you shared about yourself tonight without the intent to run me off; I’m hoping that while we’re out doing something you enjoy, you’ll be more forthcoming about yourself.”
So Style is logical and smart, and he can also read the room, Fadel thinks. Heaven help him, but he is impressed. He most definitely needs to explore this further. “How do you feel about live music then?”
“What happened to running me off?” Style challenges with a raised eyebrow. “What changed your mind? Is it my body? Have you decided you want to sleep with me at least once? You can be honest. I know I’m sexy.”
Fadel thinks about that for a moment. Style is certainly right, but only in part. “You seem outrageous, and shallow but you’re actually complex. I’m curious about you. Also, you’re a mechanic.” Fadel stops for a short moment then adds, “That’s hot.”
Style flushes, actually ducking his head and all. Fadel is surprised that Style can be bashful. The sight is rather adorable.
“I like live music.” Style finally answers Fadel’s question
“Then let’s go to that after we leave this place.”
“I thought I’d finally get to kiss you under the moonlight and run my hands across the wide expanse of your chest, but live music is fine too.”
Fadel smiles for the first time tonight. “Don’t despair. We’ll have plenty of time after the live music show,” Heaven knows, before the night ends, he must taste Style's lips, bury his face in Style's long, creamy neck, and kiss it while embracing his alluringly slim waist.