shots, 𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘳.

[002] drinks.

It's been a long night. The stars were dull, and the streetlights flickered. Moths swarmed under every crevice of illuminated space and spiders crawled through the shadows. Garbage bags piled up beside every building. It was one of those nights where the world seemed real. Not like a fantasy, but a place where every imperfection seeped through the cracks within the pavement. The town was a shithole, that was for sure.

Though the streets were littered with trash and were almost a wasteland, the shabby, run-down buildings were filled with life. Bars, sororities, run-down alcohol stands, and speakeasies were all over the place. People had to get their booze somehow, right? You scoffed as you looked uneasily around you. The town was gray, monochrome almost. But the people ignored it, living in their fantasies with closed doors and brick walls. It was difficult to watch, but what can you do? You kicked a rock, making your way down a damp street, passing by multiple illegal bars, each with a raging party within. It was supposed to be a good night in New York City. But tonight was not the night.

There was something off tonight. Something you couldn't quite grasp. You sighed heavily and headed towards a small, run-down shop. Your favorite place to grab a nice drink. The owner was cheery, despite his circumstances.

As you entered the shop, you noticed another person. Strange, you were usually the only customer this late at night. The scent of an egg cream filled your senses. Your favorite drink. You smiled to yourself, eagerly waiting for the owner to spot you, when the stranger turned to you and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, and waiting for you to acknowledge his existence. You ignored him as you waved the owner toward you for a drink. He didn't move.

"What's a dame like you doing here on a night like this?"

His was monotone, but there was a hint of friendliness in his voice. You finally turned to him. He was definitely taller than you, and more monochrome than the city itself. You smiled to yourself.

"Pleasure to meet you, Spider-man Noir." Your voice had a hint of playfulness in it, almost mocking his title. He paid no attention.

"And you are?"

"[Y/N]."

There was a pause of silence between the two of you. Clearly, it was awkward. The tension was sharp. What was there to say? You were lost in thought until he moved once more, this time leaning forward and resting his elbows on the bar. He was staring at you, very intently. You tilted your head in confusion as the bartender handed you your drink for the night.

"Yes?" Your voice had a tinge of suspicion to it. He let out a slight chuckle of amusement.

"You're a looker. You come here often?" You can feel him smirking at you teasingly, but his voice was still monotone. Was Spider-man Noir flirting with you? You nodded at his question and looked at your drink. You couldn't help but feel his gaze on you. He never seemed to look anywhere else.

He cleared his throat and scooted his chair towards you.

"So, m'lady, you didn't answer my question. Watcha doin' out here on a night like this?" He never took his eyes off of you as he spoke. He was certainly the master of eye contact. You, on the other hand, found it extremely difficult to lock eyes with him. You kept your eyes on your drink.

"Getting a drink." Your answers were short and simple, but he didn't take the hint. The bartender stared at the two of you before smiling, shaking his head, and heading to the kitchen to allow some privacy. Noir kept his eyes on you.

"Not much of a talker, huh?"

You didn't respond, instead opting to sip on your drink. Noir's expression didn't change. At least you thought it didn't. The mask made it extremely hard to read what he was thinking. It was silent. The only sound was the straw you were sipping your drink through. He was still gazing at you, almost longingly. You noticed he was a lot closer than before. When did that happen? The silence stopped.

"You got anyone special?" His voice was quieter, and a lot less friendly. You shook your head. Why was he asking this? He took his gaze off of you and stared at his own drink.

"You really don't talk much, huh?" The truth was, you did. But he made you nervous in a weird way. It was like having a conversation with a celebrity. It was hard to keep it natural and flowing. You decided not to tell him that and nodded your head. He didn't move and kept silent, the tension between the two of you growing increasingly unbearable. You decide to make a move.

Noir turned to you as you tapped him on the shoulder. You thought to yourself. Tonight is going to be special. I'll make it special. You leaned in closer to him until you could feel his cold breath brushing against your face. Noir flinched and leaned back slightly. He speaks in a whispered tone.

"Mind if I...", his voice trailed off. "Please, mon amour."

You understand his request and nod your head. You brace for a kiss, but instead, he gets out of his seat and holds out a hand. You take it, confused, until he softly pushes you up against the edge of the bar. He gently lifts his mask up to reveal his lips. You close your eyes as he brings you into a sweet, passionate, yet gentle kiss. His arms wrap around your waist. The kiss was everything anyone could have ever wanted. The kind that helped you forget about the dull streets outside. The kind that made you forget the immorality of everything around you. The kind that made everything okay. It was that kind of kiss, and it was Noir of all people. He pulls away and pulls down his mask, his voice no longer monotone.

"Abyssinia*, sugar. Very soon." His voice had an element of happiness in it. You've never heard his voice like this before. It made you giddy, the way you could make him feel like this. He swiftly walks out of the bar and swings onto the building across. He turns back from the rooftop and gives you a slight nod, before disappearing.

You touch your lips with the tip of your fingers and smiled.

There was just something about him that made butterflies appear in your stomach. Maybe it was the fact that he was mysterious yet soft, or maybe because he was a real gentleman.

Or maybe it was because his lips tasted like egg cream.

"ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ..."
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ᴇɴᴅ
ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 1146

*Abyssina - "I'll be seeing you."