Taste of Iron

Eleven: Get Out While You Can

Eleven: Get Out While You Can

Despite having an off, Atlas's body clock woke him up in the morning. He got out of bed, made himself some breakfast, and then went back to take a nap. He could feel life being breathed into his body as he hadn't felt this relaxed in a very long time, and he was looking forward to having a calm day indoors.

It was the afternoon, and Atlas was lounging on the couch. He was wearing just a pair of sweatpants and reading a novel he had been wanting to start for a while now. He loved days like this, when he didn't have to interact socially at all and could enjoy his own company.

What Atlas wasn't expecting was a knock. He kept the book down, he forgot to remove his reading glasses or wear a shirt as he went to the door, which he religiously kept locked now. He looked through the peephole, feeling deja vu as he saw the man he had gotten quite familiar with in the past month.

Of course, it had to be Emil. Who else would visit him?

"What are you doing here?" Atlas yelled through the wall, keeping the door still closed.

"Are you going to open up?" Emil retorted.

"No!"

"Come on!" Emil all but whined, stretching the 'o' of the 'on'. Atlas could just imagine the dramatic pout on the man's face as he sighed, before opening the door.

"Hi! I know this is—" Emil paused, his eyes travelling down Atlas's body and then back up. He was checking out the blue-haired chef so openly, without an ounce of shame that it made the man shift on his feet. For the first time, Atlas noticed a slight red tinge on the gangster's cheeks.

"What?" Atlas snapped.

"You wear glasses?" Emil gulped.

"When I read," the chef muttered, as he took them off.

"So fucking adorable. Ah you're going to be the death of me," Emil groaned as he entangled his fingers in his hair, pulling at the strands.

"Um..." Atlas cleared his throat. "Why are you here?"

"Aren't you going to let me in?" Emil questioned, trying his hardest to keep his eyes up. He didn't want to make Atlas uncomfortable by staring too hard.

"No," Atlas replied, using his body to block Emil's way inside.

"Fair enough," Emil mumbled. "I'm here to take you out."

"Take me...out?" Atlas's eyes widened slightly. "With a gun?"

"No!" Emil exclaimed, shaking his head rapidly. "Not in that way!"

"Then what? I already told you that I'm not going on a date with you," Atlas stated.

"It's not that either. Trust me, when I take you on a date it's going to be fucking majestic," Emil grinned. "For today I just have something fun planned. Well, at least I hope it will be fun? I just thought it'd be something you'd like and I wanted to take you there."

"And why exactly should I go with you?" Atlas rose a challenging brow.

"Uh," Emil frowned. "Because I'm asking nicely? And saying please? Pretty please?"

Atlas was dumbfounded. By this point, he was certain that Emil had a few loose screws, because how the hell was he treating everything like it was just so casual? This was definitely not how normal relationships worked. Especially professional relationships, like the one Atlas and Emil shared, of course.

But maybe, just maybe Atlas was a little bit out of it too as he nodded slowly.

"Okay," Atlas whispered. "Give me ten minutes. Wait out here."