Catalyst Encounters // Brallon AU

3. Hope is a Flowing Stream

The streets were almost empty at two in the morning with the exceptions being stragglers from Gin 91 who had managed to hang on until closing time. Thankfully as a weekday however, Brendon hadn't been witness to Dallon manhandling the leftover customers off the premises to lock up. That joy was reserved for the weekend shifts.

Dallon stuffed the bar keys into his coat pocket and turned to face Brendon who was waiting patiently on the sidewalk. "Ready," said Dallon.

Brendon nodded with a quirk of his lips. "I'm thinking a walk through the park then. Nowhere else is still open this side of town."

The park in question sat just a few yards away and had been recently renovated through a nature appreciation program. It was a rather beautiful place at night, having been inspired by traditional Japanese zen gardens. A small stream cut the land in two and a graceful arched bridge created a crossing point between them. The pathway was bordered by meticulously raked sands, though Dallon felt it was a pointless effort as they just got swept over in the fall winds anyway.

Brendon led him to entrance of the park, and started down the path which was lined with little pagoda lights. It was the route Dallon would sometimes take home if he wasn't exhausted and didn't mind the detour since the scenery was always a welcome sight.

"I've never walked through here before but I passed by it on the way to your bar and thought it looked pretty sweet," Brendon piped up and shoved his hands into his pockets. The air did have nip now that it was nearing September.

"It's not my bar," Dallon exhaled sardonically. "But it is a nice place for a walk." Pete would regularly contend that the trees made it too enclosed and that he felt like he would be attacked walking home from his own work late at night. Dallon and Patrick would always laugh in his face of course. The only threatening resident here was a child with so much energy he could be classed as a dangerous dog.

Not that Dallon mentioned any of that to Brendon of course. It wouldn't have exactly set the mood he was going for.

"So what made you perform out here tonight?" Dallon enquired lightly. He'd been wondering for a while as Dallon only seemed to be bumping into Brendon recently, and the music scene was much larger in the other bars downtown.

Brendon grimaced. He stopped walking as they reached the bridge and leant over the wooden handrail. Dallon copied the movement as he waited for Brendon to answer. He seemed to think deeply about it before settling on, "It's complicated."

It was a darker answer than the situation seemed to merit but Dallon didn't press. He didn't want to distress Brendon by asking, so he tried to be a comforting presence instead. He shifted closer, and upon noticing the way the hairs on Brendon's forearm were standing up, began to remove his coat.

Brendon pulled back from the handrail at the sudden movement and watched curiously as Dallon tugged off the sleeves.

"You look freezing," Dallon explained and held out the olive green parka.

"Oh." Brendon looked surprised at the gesture but still reached for the jacket, fingers momentarily brushing Dallon's. All previous anguish disappeared from his face once he shrugged on the garment. He grinned cheesily and closed his eyes as if bathing in the warmth. "Feels like a hug," he laughed. "Thanks."

The laugh was infectious and quickly the both of them were snickering on the bridge like a pair of lunatics. It soon died down however, and they were left looking over the stream once again while Brendon yanked the too-long sleeves all the way up to his fingertips.

Dallon let the minutes pass in companionable silence before Brendon unexpectedly perked up. "I'm in a band," he began. "But... we've been - I've been struggling a bit with our guitarist." Brendon looked down at his hands splaying over the railing and tapped his fingers against it while he thought of his next words. "I guess you could call it 'creative differences'. We can't agree on much anymore so I thought I'd try playing somewhere new to take my mind off it."

Dallon listened sympathetically. He couldn't empathise completely, but he'd fell out with and drifted away from enough friends to understand at least a little. He reached out his own hand and covered Brendon's with long fingers. A small smile tugged at Brendon's lips.

"That's enough about me then," He elbowed Dallon lightly. "Let's hear some more about you." With the change of subject Brendon spoke more confidently.

"I'm a bit boring to be honest," Dallon replied and then wanted to murder himself because that wasn't exactly going to paint a stellar picture of himself to Brendon.

"I think that's a lie," he winked. "But let's start simple then. You got a last name?"

A second passed where Dallon was tempted to reply with a sarcastic 'no' if he wasn't too eager to learn Brendon's in return. "Weekes, with three 'e's. Yours?"

"Urie. But please don't look me up on Facebook, I've had that account since I was thirteen," Brendon cringed.

"You basically just asked me to," Dallon sniggered as Brendon groaned behind his hands.

"Why did I even wait for you to get off work?" he wailed.

Their banter began to flow as their teasing wisecracks continued, and Dallon felt a warmth around him despite giving up his parka to Brendon. The flirting frequently peppering the conversation also helped the heat stay in his cheeks.

Dallon was in the process of delivering a beautifully savage remark to Brendon when his body rudely interrupted him with a yawn.

"Looks like you should get some sleep." Brendon's tone was caring but Dallon could plainly see him failing to muffle his laughter behind the jacket's sleeves.

"Probably, we've been out here for about an hour," Dallon said while checking his phone. After flipping off Brendon.

"Damn, that long?"

Brendon stretch his arms out and locked his fingers, cracking the joints. Then, as if he noticed the coat he was wearing wasn't his, began to unzip it when Dallon stuck out a hand to stop him.

"Keep it for now. Means I'll definitely see you again to get it back."

"Well that's something," Brendon smirked cockily and pulled the zip back up to the top. "I think I'll stop by your bar and play again in two days time."

"I told you it's not mine."

"Maybe, but you'll be the reason I'm there."

Dallon couldn't help the flush that graced his cheeks. Though he quite easily fell for pretty boys, he usually had more tact in dealing with them. But the comment struck him particularly hard and Dallon was left to stumble through a goodbye which really shouldn't have seemed like a herculean task.

He hastily walked off the bridge to continue home before Brendon called his name again.

"You probably need these," Brendon fished the bar keys out of one of the pockets and tossed them to Dallon. They gracefully arced through the air and landed into Dallon's open palms. With one more wink, Brendon turned on his heel and walked in the other direction.