Make Me Beg ➸ Larry Stylinson

eight

Louis' POV:

I've met Donnie a few times when visiting the firehouse back when Liam still had a job there. Donnie's always been a really nice lad and to this day I've never seen him in a bad mood.

He and Liam have engulfed each other in a tight hug, and I notice that he looks taller than I remember. Once they pull apart the three of us sit down on the swivelling bar stools as Donnie walks behind the bar. Liam's on one side of Zayn, and I'm on the other side, with a few empty barstools to my left.

"What would you guys like to drink?" He asks, slinging a white towel over his right shoulder, "And thanks for coming, by the way, it's really nice to see a familiar face in here. I'm still getting to know the regulars and the other workers, but it takes time."

"It's so great to see you again!" Zayn grins.

Liam's the first to order, just one beer. I order the same thing, but unlike Liam, I plan on getting a few refills. Zayn, being the diva he is, orders some fancy drink and requests for it to be 'shaken, not stirred'.

"I'll have the Vesper; Three measures of Gordon's, one of vodka, half a measure of Kina Lillet."

"Zayn, what the actual fuck is that?" I ask as Donnie smiles and makes the drink.

"It's a drink, duh."

"I'll have the Vesper," I mock, and he punches my arm.

"It's from James Bond. He orders it during the high stakes poker game in Casino Royale," He scoffs as if its the most obvious thing ever. 

Stupid James Bond nerd.

Donnie hands Zayn the drink, and I can see a curled up lemon peel sitting in the bottom of the martini glass as he takes a sip.

"Shit, this is good," He remarks, taking another sip before setting it down, "Speaking of, Louis, the movie is so good you should watch it with me. He drinks this before kicking ass in the casino in Montenegro. Speaking of, did you know that-"

"Don't start geeking out on me, Z. I don't need the backstories of all your sacred James Bond movies, but I'm glad you like the drink." 

He nods and blushes before we both turn in our seats to look around the bar. I take a sip of my beer and savor the somewhat bitter flavor in my mouth along with the hints of bread-like sweetness and carbonation as I observe my surroundings.

There are TVs all around the bar (the volume on each of them is low so they don't conflict with one another) and the programs range from football matches to Queer Eye to RuPaul's Drag Race.

The bar has a handful of tall tables and chairs set up, along with a few booths lining the wall. The building extends farther down than I would've expected. I can see two pool tables set up back there; one's being occupied by two guys with their backs to me, and the other is untouched.

Past them, it looks as though there's a set of bathrooms and a sofa that I assume is for anyone looking to lounge during a game of pool. I look around a little bit longer (I may or may not have zoned out for a few minutes watching RuPaul's Drag Race on the telly) and realize that there's not a single woman to be seen.

"Zayn, is this a gay bar?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, didn't we tell you that?"

"No. Or at least, not that I can remember. But I'm happy about that, though. Gay bars feel much more comforting than normal ones where old fat guys are screaming about American football and women are walking around in skimpy clothing trying to look for someone to hook up with."

"We should come here more often," He suggests, "Liam was so excited to catch up with Donnie and if that means we can go out for drinks more often, I'm down for it."