Some Day One Day (Maylor AU)

Chapter 29

As two o'clock came and went, Jay rounded up the few stragglers and ushered them out of the bar, ignoring their drunken pleas for one more drink or a quick trip to the bathroom as he locked the doors and turned around with rolling eyes. Roger smirked and finished up cleaning the bar with another coworker of his, bidding her and his boss a goodnight after clocking out. While they left, Roger ventured upstairs in search of Geoff and his boyfriend, who hadn't come down all night.

He thought they might have slipped out the back, but when he asked some of the other prostitutes who came down for a refresher, they told him they were still holed up in Geoff's room—they had been ever since they went up there. Slightly nervous of what he would walk in on, the blonde knocked on the closed door before cracking it open, peering into the room filled with a thick haze that dimmed the neon green light illuminating it. Roger immediately began to cough, the pungent atmosphere seeping its way into his lungs unwelcomed.

"Hey, about time you showed up!" Geoff greeted him, his words drawn out and his body slumped against the couch that was rarely used for anything other than a quick fuck. Sitting beside him—head resting on his shoulder and a cigarette tucked lazily in the corner of his slightly parted lips—was Tim. His eyelids were heavy, but the brunette refused to let them fall, keeping instead a narrow, trancelike gaze that locked on the pair of glossy, size thirteen platform shoes that had been tossed into the corner.

"I had to close up," Roger explained, his eyes starting to sting. After another quick bout of coughs, he mustered the strength to ask, "So this is your special cure, huh?"

The other bartender chuckled. "Only for people whose boyfriend works with me."

A small grin appeared on the blonde's face as he ran a hand through his hair. "Well, is he ready to go home?"

"Oh, no," Geoff answered, shaking his head, "No, not yet. He's not going anywhere for a least a couple more hours."

"A couple more hours?"

"Yeah, he's pretty out of it." He looked over at Tim and gave him a slight shake, the brunette groaning and slowly peeling himself away from the bartender. He fell to the side and hugged the stained couch cushions—the sight stirring Roger's stomach more than the noxious fumes permeating the air. "Don't worry, though. I'll bring him home for you, Rog."

The blonde nodded in thoughtless agreement before his eyebrows furrowed together. "But you don't even know where we live," he pointed out, crossing his arms.

Geoff shot an index finger in his direction. "You're right." He shot up from the couch and flew out of the room, spinning Roger around and drawing him into the hallway where he watched his coworker escape to one of the rooms down the hall—specifically, the one he brought Roger into to make him look less "like shit" following Cheryl's punishment for being late. The blonde rested his hands on his hips and listened to the loud shuffling coming from the room, jumping when Geoff came back out and approached him with a scrap of paper torn from one of the magazines and a stick of purple eyeliner. "Write it down for me. I'll find my way."

Roger stared at the two items skeptically before heaving a sigh, too tired to argue, and taking them into his possession. "You just have to hop on the subway and take it to the terminal with the huge peace sign spray-painted on the wall," he said as he scribbled down his and Tim's address, "Once you get back up to the streets, take a right and—"

"I've got it, Rog," Geoff interrupted him with a smirk as the blonde handed over the glossy strip with reddened cheeks, "This isn't my first time navigating the Big Apple, you know."

The blonde's eyes flickered back into the room where Tim had slid off the couch and now lied on the floor, undisturbed by the change of surroundings. He took in a deep breath and slipped his hands into his pockets. "I know, it's just...I'm usually the one bringing him home."

"Well tonight, that's my responsibility," Geoff declared, sinking back into the room and scooping Tim up in his arms—the brunette groaning once more as the bartender situated him back on the sofa. "Take the night off, why don't you? Do something you wouldn't be able to do with him around."

Roger instinctively glanced down at the gray smear on his forearm, catching himself in the act and rolling his sleeve back down. "Are you sure about this, Geoff?" he asked, "I can take him home; it's no problem."

"Jesus, Roger," he chuckled, swiping the drool that dripped from the corner of Tim's parted lips, "How long has it been since the last time you had the night to yourself?" The blonde remained quiet, encouraging Geoff to answer his own question, "That's what I thought. Too long, so stop worrying so much and have some fun for once. You're in New York City, for fuck's sake."