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Six: Wingman

Six: Wingman

There were a few social interactions in life that Wren found impossible to navigate. First, confrontation. Even the most inconsequential conversation could be a nightmare if Wren had to be even mildly assertive. Second, small talk. He simply couldn't do it. Even with coworkers he had known for years, he still found it hard to ask even simple things like 'how was your weekend?' Not because he didn't care (though he often didn't), but because he just couldn't force himself to make the first step in the conversation. He would find himself thinking the words he had to say over and over again in his head, inflection and facial expression carefully planned out, but when it came time to say it, his throat would close up and the opportunity would pass. He had no problem replying to others, but instigating the interaction was a barrier he struggled to cross.

And third, saying no to people. It wasn't that he couldn't do it. If he really needed to, he could do it. But for something like this, which was not life threatening in any way, Wren found himself incapable of saying anything in response to Beau, who was looking at him with sparkling, hopeful (mischievous?) eyes.

"Only if you're comfortable, of course," Beau added, giving Wren a perfectly acceptable way out of the situation, but still he found himself voiceless.

He thought about what would happen if he really did try it on. What would it feel like?

Would it feel like a boa constrictor wrapping around his throat, cutting off his air supply? Or would it feel like nothing? Like the collar of a turtleneck?

...What if it felt...nice?

But it won't, Wren told himself. He's not into that sort of thing, so it certainly won't feel good. He's sure of it.

Can't be sure you'll hate it if you've never tried it, a voice whispered in Wren's head. Wren shook his head hard, shivering, trying to dispel that voice.

"That's too bad," Beau said, and Wren realized he took Wren's head shake as him saying no, which took care of Wren's inability to reply, so that was nice, but he still blushed, feeling like he'd offended Beau.

"I'm sorry," he said, feeling it fall flat. Regardless, Beau's smile was still in place, perhaps even brighter than before. Maybe Wren's eyes were playing tricks on him. Or maybe Beau was exceptional at hiding his true emotions. Wren couldn't say.

"Don't be. And how about you, Mr. Lurking Alpha?" Beau suddenly said, turning to Vincent, who was still as a statue behind them, which was weird. Did he need something from the shelf they were in front of?

"How do you feel about collars?"

Wren paused, feeling something click into place while an awkward silence stretched between the three of them.

Was Beau...using Wren as a wingman? Maybe instead of a buffer, Wren was meant to make Beau look more attractive to Vincent? Was that even how being a wingman worked? Wren didn't know. The only knowledge he had about the concept was learned from tv shows that he turned on for background noise while cooking.

If so, Wren would do his best to help. Who was he to deny a love connection between two people?

Suddenly given a mission, Wren straightened, looking more closely at Beau and Vincent to see if flirty looks were being exchanged and smelling to air to see if interested pheromones were floating around.

Beau and Vincent were certainly staring at each other, but...well, maybe Wren was reading them wrong. He had never claimed to be good at reading expressions. The air between Beau and Vincent was certainly charged, with lightning bolts practically sparking between them, but it didn't feel flirtatious. In fact, it felt oddly threatening, like they were about to start throwing punches. Their scents were neutral – and slightly sour on Vincent's part, showing his displeasure over something.

Wren must be mistaken. When he was younger, Wren's friend Will was always telling Wren about the enemies to lovers fanfiction he was reading, so maybe this was like that? Animosity to start and smooches later?

An uncomfortable amount of time passed before Vincent answered. "Does it matter how I feel about it? Is there a particular reason you're trying to make Wren uncomfortable?"

Wren blinked. Huh?

Beau shook his head, but he seemed to be holding back laughter. "Oh no, it's not him I'm trying to make uncomfortable."

Was this...still flirting?

It was a weak explanation at this point, Wren had to admit.

"Just stirring the pot, that's all," Beau said, nonchalantly turning back to the vegetables like nothing happened. Wren was completely lost. He felt like there was some puzzle piece he was missing, but he also wasn't sure if he really wanted to complete the puzzle. He also wondered if it would be possible to slip away while Beau and Vincent were focused on being cryptic with each other.

Wren didn't have anything to contribute to this interaction. He should really make his way to the checkout. Maybe he should pretend he had somewhere urgent to be. Yes, it was nearing midnight, but they didn't have to know that the place Wren urgently needed to be was home, specifically snuggled in his bed with his laptop, YouTube, and some snacks.

"Anyway," Beau continued, "we should exchange numbers, Wren. We can get coffee sometime or something." With that said, he pulled out his phone, holding it out to Wren expectantly. And, unfortunately, with as little as Wren knew about how to navigate social situations, he knew that refusing would be incredibly rude. Eh, whatever. Beau seemed nice, if a little incomprehensible. And goodness knows Wren needed more friends. As much as he tried to tell himself otherwise, he knew that saying hello to coworkers in the morning and occasionally texting his childhood friends wasn't exactly the healthiest social life. There wasn't any harm in it. So he reached for the phone –

Only to have a body appear between his hand and the phone, blocking Wren from taking it. Wren was left staring blankly at Vincent's broad shoulders from inches away.

...What the hell was actually going on here?