The closer Riggs came to the table, it became clear to him that the lilacs belonged to Bowtie, and the reason for Riggs' reaction also became clear. He lowered the tray, and everyone grabbed their drinks. The older man who had been relentlessly chatting him up at the bar looked at him like he was an appetizer. He didn't have time to play his usual games; he needed information about bowtie.
Bowtie was across the table, hemmed in by several people as if they were afraid he might try to run away. His location made it difficult for him to reach the tray. Only the beer remained, and Riggs took it, reached across, and set it down in front of him with a smile he hoped was seen as friendly and interesting.
Unfortunately, Bowtie flushed red and looked away, staring at the table and the wall beside him. Then the table noticed, and Bowtie became the focus of their taunts. The older man looked irritated, and the expression he was flashing gave Riggs pause. Bowtie was a target; he did not belong at this table. He needed care and protection.
"Stop being a freak, Thomas. For fuck sake, he just handed you a beer, he didn't ask to dance." His name was Thomas, such a suitable name for such a lovely little man.
"I'd love to dance with you, Thomas, any time, any place." Riggs cut them off and ran his fingertips down the side of Thomas' cheek and winked. Thomas smiled, and the discomfort he was showing eased when their eyes met. There was a mix of reactions that circled that toxic table, but Riggs only had eyes for Thomas.
"If anyone is getting a dance, it is me." The one seated next to Thomas, giving him the hard time, spoke up, but Riggs ignored him.
"Enjoy your beer, Thomas, and if you need anything, you know where to find me." Riggs piled on the sex appeal and had the entire table gaping at him, but Thomas just looked at him shyly and nodded. He was such a sweet little gentleman, something Riggs was not used to at the Blood Rose on a Saturday night.
“Thank you.” His voice had tones that touched places in Riggs that had never been touched until tonight.
“Riggs.” He told him, wanting Thomas to know his name.
“Thank you, Riggs.” He held his gaze for a few seconds and then turned and headed back to the bar. Riggs made sure to flaunt his body, assuming correctly that Thomas would keep his eyes on him. He could feel the young man's eyes and could smell the intensity of the lilacs and sweat that filled the air between them.
When he reached the bar, he took in the table and noticed Thomas watching him intently, not with lust but with genuine delight. Thomas had clearly enjoyed their interaction, and he seemed to be wondering if it was nothing or something. Thomas had no idea what lay ahead of him, and that thought brought a very satisfied smile to Riggs.
“So, who’s the little guy in the bowtie? Is he a friend of yours?” Errol moved up next to him and followed his line of sight.
"He's my beloved," Riggs stated clearly and concisely. Errol stared at him, disbelieving.
“You’re kidding?”
“Not kidding.” Riggs grinned and let his eyes take in the handsome man in the bowtie.
“He’s human?”
“He’s human.”
“This is going to be fun to watch.” Errol laughed and got back to work as Riggs stared at his beloved so small and trying so hard to disappear among that raucous crew. This wasn't his scene, which Riggs found satisfying. His beloved would belong to him and only him.
He kept watch on Thomas as he continued his job, noting the interactions between Thomas and the others. Their comments toward Thomas were harsh, cutting, and unnecessary. Thomas just shrank further into his seat with each hit. He was being used as a target for their entertainment, and it was eating Riggs alive.
Thomas didn't fight back, and that was a bad sign, indicating that this type of treatment had been ongoing for a while. The older man seemed the worst, and Riggs assumed he was a superior of some sort, because that was the only reason he could fathom for Thomas not defending himself.
“Why is he even with those people?” Errol was back at his side and had obviously been watching Riggs’ beloved. “They’re being awful to him. I think you should bring your beloved some free appetizers. Interject yourself in the conversation.” Errol presented him with a plate of wings.
“Good idea.” Riggs took them and headed to the table. Before he got there, he heard the older man bark at Thomas and call him useless. Riggs slowed his steps and took in the scene.
"Your work is juvenile and lackluster you have no vision, no fire, and no ambition. I refused to accept you as an intern, but the Director didn't want to hurt your feelings, so he told you I wasn't taking an intern this year. She filled you with hope of someone taking you on next year." He laughed condescendingly.
"Unlike Mandy, who has learned her place, you think you're special, but you're not, and you will never receive a position with anyone; I've made sure of that. You have the education, but you will never be good enough. You'd be wise to go elsewhere; there are institutions out there with little or no standards that might find you adequate." Thomas looked shellshocked, just staring and blinking, and the man next to him shifted away as if not wanting to get any of Thomas on him. These were not friends, not by any sense of the word.
Riggs dropped the plate of wings at the table nearest him and hurried over to where Thomas was seated and came up beside him. He leaned over Thomas and spoke softly into his ear. "Come with me, Thomas." He said, hoping his beloved would respond. They had met and interacted, so their connection had begun, but it may not have been strong enough for trust to develop.
Thomas looked up at him with a stricken expression that gutted him. He didn't deserve such treatment, nor did he deserve to have his evening ruined. No one spoke as they observed the interaction, clearly surprised by Thomas being singled out. He held Thomas' gaze, channeling trust and safety.
"Okay," Thomas said so softly he barely heard it, then stood and, without a backward glance at the people sitting there, fell into step beside Riggs. Feeling emboldened, Riggs placed his hand on the small of Thomas's back and led him up to the bar area and then behind to a private door.
Thomas did not hesitate or falter, remaining determined and moving quickly into the back room, and then Riggs closed the door behind them. They stood there silently for a few minutes. Riggs soaked in the scent of his beloved and tried to channel a little peace and calm through their fragile connection.
Thomas was gathering himself the emotional weight of what had happened, showing in the slope of his shoulders and the way he stared at the floor. The strength that had carried him to the back room had now fled. Riggs placed his hand on Thomas's shoulder and squeezed, needing the contact.
"Thanks for getting me away from them. Can I stay here for a little while?" His voice quivered, and his gaze never left the floor. Riggs held him by the shoulders and bent to catch his eyes.
