Sören didn't know what he was expecting when he left his flat to meet Magni outside his apartment complex at the curb, but he definitely wasn't expecting a black Jaguar. It was one thing for Magni to say Sören needed the 2000 ISK note more than he did. It was another thing to see that in the middle of Iceland's economic crisis.
Sören let out a low whistle as he climbed in the passenger seat. "Nice ride."
Magni chuckled.
That wasn't all that was nice. While they were just going to a pub for drinks and dinner, nothing fancy, Magni had still cleaned up a little, wearing black chinos and a black button-down shirt. His hair was worn loose down the middle of his back, and Sören's nose twitched as he once again breathed in Magni's Alpha scent. Sören felt a bit self-conscious in his jeans and Joy Division shirt.
Sören tried not to stare at him, but he couldn't help stealing glances on the drive across town. Magni was gorgeous to look at, and had a presence that was like being around a rock star. Sören's stomach fluttered and his heart raced, feeling tongue-tied. A few minutes into the drive, Sören felt self-conscious about this too, like he was committing some sort of faux pas with silence. "I'm sorry, I feel like I'm being rude for being quiet. I'm not good at making small talk -"
"It's OK." Magni waved his hand. "I'm not really one for small talk myself."
Sören nodded. He wanted to be relieved by that, but somehow that made him feel even more nervous, like Magni might actually be someone who got it, a compatible friend if nothing else, and he really, really, really did not want to screw this up.
The silence still felt less awkward for having cleared the air about a dislike of small talk, and once they were at the pub and had parked, Magni flashed Sören a dazzling smile that made Sören's knees weak. Sören couldn't help smiling back, cheeks burning, wondering if he was reading the signals correctly and this might lead to more.
The thought of having an Alpha knot inside him... A frisson went down Sören's spine and he desperately pushed that thought out of his head, not wanting to think of Magni like that when they barely knew each other.
It turned out this particular pub was having a karaoke night starting at eight, and that was why Magni picked it out. Sören smiled as he looked over the menu. "It'll be nice to hear you sing again," Sören said.
"It probably won't be so nice to hear other people sing," Magni said, making a face, "but that's part of the fun of coming here, I suppose."
Sören laughed. "I've only been to a karaoke night a couple of times. Now that you mention it, most people really aren't that good."
"So you don't go out to bars or clubs much, I take it?"
Sören vehemently shook his head. "I deal with the public all day for my job, the last thing I want to do when I'm off work is go deal with more people. I'm kind of shy, anyway."
Magni nodded. "Makes sense."
They ordered their meals and drinks - Sören opted for a shot of Brennivín, which he hadn't had in some time - and as they waited, Magni asked, "So, what do you do with yourself when you're off work, if you're not going to bars and clubs?"
Sören's face burned again, feeling like he was going to bore this gorgeous, fascinating man. He cleared his throat and sipped a little at his ice water before he answered honestly - Magni might as well not have any illusions about him, if this was a testing-the-waters pre-date date. "I read a lot," Sören said. This in and of itself wasn't unusual - reading was a near-ubiquitous pastime in Iceland. Then Sören went on, "I paint. I would do that full-time but it doesn't exactly pay the bills."
"An artist. I approve." There was that smile again. "Do you have your art exhibited anywhere? I'd love to see it."
"I don't," Sören said, "not in awhile." Not since the last time he'd been with an Alpha, who made it abundantly clear he was more interested in Sören's ass than the paintings. Sören had been cheated on, and when he broke it off, so too went the gallery arrangement. Sören hadn't wanted to find another gallery to try again. He wasn't about to tell Magni that, though.
Magni nodded slowly, seeming deep in thought. A little too deep - Sören shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling like he was under a microscope even though it was perfectly normal getting-to-know-you conversation.
Before Magni could remark further, Sören decided turnabout was fair play. "And what do you do? You said you don't need the money, so what, are you some kind of high-powered executive?"
"No," Magni said. "Music is my full-time job, if it could be called a job."
"Are you with any bands in Reykjavik or..."
Magni shook his head. "Solo, and prefer it that way. I know I'm a pain in the ass to work with." Magni flashed that grin again before sipping at his ice water. "And I'm too new to Reykjavik to know much about the scene here, anyway."
"Oh, you're not from Reykjavik? Neither am I. I'm from Akureyri, I came down here as soon as I was old enough, to get away from my family." Specifically, his abusive aunt and uncle, who'd raised him.
"Not from Reykjavik, no. I'm from... around." Magni laughed softly. "This is my first time back in Iceland in some time. I've been traveling, seeing the world."
"You must be loaded." Sören wanted to kick himself for saying that, since he had once again brought up Magni's financial status. Jesus Christ, I sound like a golddigger. The truth was money didn't matter to Sören at all, so long as a partner wasn't trying to take advantage of him. "Or your family." Sören grasped at levity, also wanting to hint that he wasn't interested in money. "I hope you're not related to any of those corrupt bankers."
"No." Magni's laughter was less soft now, more full-bodied. Sören loved the sound of it; even Magni's laugh was musical. "My mother was a sculptor and I was very close to my father who was a bit... eccentric. An artist, a linguist, an inventor."
"An inventor!" Sören found that intriguing. "What did he invent?"
Magni smirked. "Trouble." He finished his ice water; Sören reached for the pitcher and poured him another glass without Magni asking. Sören laughed a little too, but he was also curious - and knew perhaps he shouldn't probe further.
Their food came - a burger with fries for Sören, fish and chips for Magni. Sören poured out some cocktail sauce for his fries and felt himself starting to relax. "So you come from an artsy background... makes sense with you going into music, I guess."
"I was the only one of my brothers to go down this path," Magni said.
"Oh, you've got brothers? I always wanted siblings but I'm an only child." Sören munched on a fry dipped in cocktail sauce. "I've got a cousin but we're not on speaking terms."
"I've got six brothers. Anyway, enough about me, I'm not that interesting."
"I beg to differ," Sören said, "but I don't want to make you uncomfortable." He noticed Magni's brow was furrowed and got the sense Magni's family was a sore spot for him for some reason, and he knew enough to let it alone.
They ate in silence for a few minutes - Magni seemed to be gathering his thoughts - then Magni said, "So you just read and paint? You don't go anywhere?"
Sören bristled at that, hoping Magni wasn't politely calling him boring. "I go some places, I like to visit Tjörnin, sometimes I go for drives on my scooter. I usually go back to Akureyri once or twice a year, not to see my family, but to see the land. It inspires a lot of what I paint. The landscapes, but making it magical, mythical." Sören's cheeks burned, feeling like he probably came off like some teenage "fantasy artist" with muscle-bound warriors, big-breasted women, or something fluffy like unicorns, though neither was the truth.
"By yourself? Do you have friends?"
"Not really. Told you I'm kind of shy." Sören bit his lower lip and looked off to the side, feeling like an idiot.
Magni raised an eyebrow. "Girlfriend? ...Boyfriend?"
Sören almost spat his drink. He flagged the waiter, not answering right away, and asked for a refill of Sprite and another shot of Brennivín. After the waiter took off, Sören said, "I'm not seeing anyone, but 'boyfriend' would be the correct answer if so, yes."
Magni nodded. "Thought so."
Sören pursed his lips. "Are you gay?" He normally didn't ask people such a point-blank question, even in Iceland which was light years ahead of the rest of the world on LGBT issues - he came from a rural and somewhat more conservative part of Iceland so he knew not everyone was so tolerant, especially of gay Omega men. But if Magni had asked him, then it was only fair.
"I don't like labels, and before you ask, I'm single too. Have been for awhile." Magni bit into a chip and looked away, but not before his eyes met Sören's.
So Magni was probably bi, reading between the lines - Sören could live with that - and that definitely seemed like more signals. Sören went fishing. "It's hard to believe you're single, looking like that, with that voice."
"I prefer my life uncomplicated."
Sören felt like he'd been shot from the sky, even though his hopes hadn't been that high. "Oh."
Magni kicked him under the table. "I'd still like to get to know you better and see how this goes. If that's all right."
Hope sparked to life again - smaller than before - but it was still something. Sören nodded. "It's all right."
"Starting with... I want to see your art."
That felt very intimate... and intimidating. In some ways, showing someone his art was more intimate than sex, Sören felt like he put a spark of the fire of his soul into every painting he made. "Maybe." He dipped a fry into cocktail sauce and chewed.
"Shy?"
Sören nodded.
"Did you design the ink on your arms?"
"Jæja, there's ink on my back too. It's based on a painting I made." After I tried to kill myself. But they had just met, and Sören didn't want to disclose something that personal right away.
"Then your art is probably good."
Sören made a noise. The waiter brought Sören his Sprite and Brennivín. Sören knocked back the shot immediately.
There was another long silence, this one painfully awkward, and Sören had a feeling Magni probably assessed he was too complicated, a basket case of issues, and it was over before it was begun. Sören had another shot of Brennivín - he would have stopped at two to not be too drunk to consent to fuck, if this was where it was going - but it was pretty obvious now it wasn't, and Sören planned on getting shit-faced to forget the shame of the evening. A third shot became a fourth, and Magni called for their check, just as the karaoke was starting, the reason why Magni had chosen this location for tonight. After Magni paid and handed the bill to the waiter, he stood up and started walking off without a word, and Sören thought that was going to be the end of it...
...then he saw Magni walk over to the DJ, saying a few things, and Magni waited through a terrible, off-key rendition of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" that made Sören want a fifth shot of Brennivín even though he knew he was going to regret the fourth one he was nursing.
After "Total Eclipse of the Heart", a group of giggly and very drunk young women, maybe Sören's age if not younger, went over to the mic and did an even worse performance of "Wannabe" by the Spice Girls. Sören almost cried.
It was Magni's turn, and when Magni took the microphone he said, "This goes out to Sören," waving across the pub. Sören looked around - as if there were anyone else named Sören; his given name was unusual for Icelanders - and then he gave a shy little wave back, face on fire.
There was a synth wave, then drums and synths. It took Sören a moment to place it and then he facepalmed; he was born in 1984, a year after the song came out.
Magni began to sing in English:
Tongue tied or short of breath, don't even try
Try a little harder
Something's wrong, I'm not naive, you must must be strong
Ooh, baby, try
Hey, boy
Move a little closer
You're too shy, shy
Hush hush, eye-to-eye
Too shy, shy
Hush hush, eye-to-eye
By the time the song was over, Sören was a flustered, giggling mess. Magni went to him when the song was done, and Sören stood up to applaud. A number of other patrons were also on their feet, clapping for the performance - once again, Sören had that feeling of Magni being larger-than-life; he'd stolen the show.
Sören also felt like he'd been challenged. He was shy, and he wasn't going to pretend to be something he wasn't for the sake of impressing a guy - he'd already learned that the hard way the last few times when he felt obliged to act more extroverted and it made him miserable and it still wasn't good enough. But Sören didn't want to be too shy, a wallflower.
So even though no other performance could likely hold a candle to Magni bringing the house down, Sören still felt like he had to show Magni he was, in fact, not a milquetoast of a man. He thought of something sassy and gay he could respond with, and then he made a "stay here" gesture to Magni and went up to the DJ.
Sören had a bit of a wait. He sat through a drunk guy trying to sing "You Shook Me All Night Long" by AC/DC, another drunk guy trying to sing "Welcome To The Jungle" by Guns N Roses and failing hard, another drunk guy singing "Billie Jean" by Michael Jackson and trying to imitate Michael Jackson, drunken moonwalk, crotch grabs, "hee hee"s and all, a drunk woman singing "You Oughta Know" by Alanis Morrissette and sounding like she was yodeling, a group of drunk guys singing the obligatory "Jaja Ding Dong", and a drunk woman singing "I Love Rock N Roll" by Joan Jett... then finally it was Sören's turn. He grabbed the mic way from the slurring, stumbling Joan Jett wannabe, and his free hand pointed at Magni as he said, "I have one thing to say. You. Better. Work."
Magni threw back his head and laughed, and raised his bottle of lager in cheers.
As the house beat pounded, Sören began to strut around like he owned the pub, getting in character.
You better work (Cover girl)
Work it, girl (Give a twirl)
Do your thing
On the runway
Work (Supermodel)
You better work it, girl (Of the world)
Wet your lips
And make love to the camera
Work (Turn to the left)
Work (Now turn to the right)
Work (Sashay, shanté)
Work (Turn to the left)
Work (Now turn to the right)
Work (Sashay, shanté)
Sören actually got people to dance, and by the end of the song he was doing a little shimmying dance too, wiggling his butt.
You better work
Work
Work (Supermodel)
You better work
Work
Work
Sören pointed at Magni again and the crowd joined him. "I have one thing to say. You better work."
Now it was Magni who stood up and applauded, and when Sören came back over, Magni gave him a little hug. Sören's cock stirred, and he pulled back before he could get a full hard-on and start going slick. His face was on fire again, and he felt floaty, the colors of the room ramped up... Magni's eyes seemed almost inhuman, like they were made of labradorite.
"Not too shy at all," Sören said. "Of course, four shots of Brennivín helped with that. Wooooo!" He giggled.
"As they say, in vino veritas. You had it in you all along." Magni grinned and playfully tousled Sören's curls. "I'm impressed. And intrigued to see what other surprises you're capable of."
Sören was almost positive that was an innuendo. He had to stop himself from mauling Magni right then - he knew he was very drunk and it was a bad idea for a lot of reasons, one of which being they were still in public. He was also all flustered again. So he did what he often did to cope, and grasped for levity. "Hi Impressed And Intrigued To See What Other Surprises You're Capable Of, I'm Sören."
Magni facepalmed, then his laughter rang out, eyes dancing.
Before they could say or do anything else, a twink wearing skinny jeans and a purple T-shirt with panda bears on it, with spiky fuchsia hair, square glasses, and a thin brown goatee, stomped up to the stage, looking like Sören had personally offended him. Sören sat down and nursed his Sprite, getting the sense this would be entertaining for good or ill. The twink seemed like he was in a competition to prove himself the gayest one in the pub - the music changed to Madonna's "Vogue".
That was when Magni pulled him up from the table to the small dance area by the DJ booth and the karaoke stage. Magni began voguing, and Sören imitated his poses, and soon a crowd gathered around the two of them, watching them dance to the twink's fierce Madonna number.
By the end of the song the twink was staring at Magni like he was dinner, and there was an overpowering rose-like scent. Sören realized this wasn't just a gay-off, but this was an Omega vying for Magni. Usually Sören saw Alphas competing for an Omega, but the reverse wasn't unheard of. At the end of the song Magni gave Sören another obvious hug, as if to tell the Omega twink he was off-limits.
After all that dancing, with so much alcohol in his system, Sören felt a little woozy, and the hug lingered, with Sören leaning on Magni to avoid falling over. Magni started walking Sören out to the car. The night was still young - it wasn't ten PM yet - but Sören had to be at work at nine the next morning. He knew he was going to have a hangover. He groaned as he leaned back in the passenger seat.
"I had fun," Magni said.
"I did too. Thanks for giving me a chance."
"I knew there was something about you."
Sören managed a smile, even though he was starting to feel slightly nauseated from the alcohol.
Then Magni glanced over and said, "I'd still like to see your art."
"Oh god, not this again."
"Why not? Why are you being so stubborn? It's not as if your arms aren't a walking advertisement."
Sören sighed, and made a vague hand gesture. "My paintings are very personal."
"And yet you paint them. Do you just... paint them to hide in a closet and never show anyone?"
"No, but..." Sören lowered his head, not wanting to get into it about the Alpha who just showed his work to get down his pants.
"I'd like to see you again. Can you show me your paintings?"
Sören wasn't ready for that, but he decided on a compromise. "How about I sketch in front of you, and based on your reaction to my sketch I'll decide whether or not I want you looking at my paintings."
"Now?"
"No, not now, silly. I can barely walk, never mind try to work a pencil." Sören gave a throaty, drunk laugh. Then he said, "My next day free is not this upcoming Saturday, but the week following."
"That's a lot of days in a row working."
"I need the money. Anyway, I rarely get a day off on the weekends and usually that's my day to just hibernate and do chores if it happens, but if you want to get together again -"
"I would, yeah." Magni nodded. Then he raised an eyebrow. "You mentioned you like to go to Tjörnin. Would you like to have a picnic there? I'll bring my guitar, you sketch?"
"Sounds good." It sounded more nerve-wracking than good - Sören was convinced Magni would find his art stupid and decide not to see him again, and Sören didn't know why he cared, since they still didn't know each other well...
...but he liked this guy, already. There was something about Magni, too. Something that stirred the fire in him, made him feel a little bolder, more alive. It hadn't just been the Brennivín getting him out singing and dancing.
When they got to Sören's apartment complex, Magni asked, "Are you fine to go in by yourself, or do you need help?"
"I think I'll be fine. I'll see you next week, Magni." Sören took a step outside the car and promptly faceplanted.
Magni picked Sören up and carried him in the building like he weighed nothing. Sören told Magni what number, and Magni carried him to the door. He still held Sören up as Sören got out his key and fumbled with the lock.
Magni brought Sören over to the couch - Sören lived in a tiny studio apartment and there really wasn't anywhere else to go. "Can I get you anything?" Magni asked, looking around, eyes lingering at the fridge in the kitchenette.
"Yeah, your cock," Sören slurred, then facepalmed, realizing he had no brain-to-mouth filter when drunk.
Magni actually turned pink, and then he flashed that grin again. He tousled Sören's curls. "You're drunk."
Magni went over to the fridge anyway, and brought Sören a cold bottle of water. Sören uncapped it and wrapped his lips around it suggestively, sucking hard, and Magni was beetroot now - beetroot and making the flat smell like the ocean. Magni laughed on his way out.
Sören knew he'd made an ass of himself, but he was too drunk to care. Drunk and giddy, giggling to himself after the door closed.
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