I just love writing daddy!Lucifer, okay? It makes me happy.

Balthazar is definitely not having a good day.

After getting called in to work three hours early and being told he still had to close (now he has a grand total of ten hours on his feet today), his first table of the day is full of elderly, devoutly Catholic Hispanic women. That on its own wouldn't have fazed him in the slightest, but the problem is that they somehow took offense to every aspect of his appearance and demeanor. He knows this because he can hear them jabbering away in Spanish and, although he doesn't look like much, he speaks it fluently enough to understand the derogatory comments they make. He's able to keep his anger in check until the end, when he smoothly tells them, "Here's your check. You can pay at the register" in Spanish, drawing stunned glances from the women.

Then Ash, one of the other waiters, smacks into him with a full tray in his hands. Balthazar ends up with ketchup and ice cream all over his work shirt and has to snag another one from the back room while the other one is thrown in the dishwasher and then hung up to dry.

Four tables leave horrible tips (he likes to think of himself as rather charming, especially with his British accent, but apparently the tables are unimpressed), three drooling babies cry for nearly an hour straight at an ear-splitting decibel, they run out of chocolate milk twenty minutes after he first showed up (to the chagrin of several children who asked), and he has to apologize to six different customers for how long the cooks took to make their orders. By the time the dinner rush trickles out around seven-thirty, he's ready to call it a day.

So when Ruby tells him she's seated two more people in his section, he could have strangled her. On his best day, he finds her bothersome, but today, she's completely intolerable. He just wants to sit for five minutes without having to worry about checking on customers, but that's obviously not happening. Instead, he fixes her with a murderous glare, straightens his borrowed shirt (he'll have to wash his other one again when he gets home), and slinks out to table 17.

There's the pair, a little girl with long blond curls and a man with shaggy, reddish-blond hair. Obviously father and daughter. She's already coloring in the cartoon on the back of the children's menu, making do with red, yellow, green, and blue crayons. To Balthazar's surprise, her father is actually watching what she's doing.

In his experience, parents who come here by themselves with their kids typically use their kids' preoccupation with coloring and games as a sort of reprieve. More often than not, they check their phones or make calls or just stare at their menus, passing the time in an awkward quiet until their child says something or asks a question. It's actually kind of cute to see this man talking to his daughter. Maybe this won't be so bad.

"Evening," he says cheerfully. "I'm Balthazar. What can I get you to drink?"

The man looks up at him, and that's when everything freezes and a bolt of electricity passes between them. Good Lord, those eyes of his are a gorgeous shade of blue, and his lips, lush and inviting, are quirked up in a polite half-smile. He's not sure, but he thinks he sees the man's eyes widen for a moment before he looks back at his daughter, gesturing to her.

The little girl flashes him a bright smile. "Can I get some chocolate milk, please?"

Damn. He doesn't like imagining the way her face will fall when he tells her they're out. In fact, that seems like the worst possible idea. So, before he can stop himself, he says, "Well, we ran out earlier today, but we have some chocolate syrup in the kitchen, so I can make you some... if that's okay?" he adds, glancing at her father.

His smile looks less forced, more genuine now. "Fine with me," he says, looking back to his daughter. "Okay with you, June Bug?"

"Yes, please!" she says, nodding excitedly.

"Alright," Balthazar says, feeling himself grinning a bit more. "And what about for you?"

"Coke's fine," the man says.

"Alright, I'll be back in just a minute." He tucks his notepad back into his pocket and leaves, glancing down at the man's left hand, fingers drumming against the table.

Wedding ring. Damn.

Everything about him screams "single parent" (most notably, the lack of his wife present), but he has a wedding ring. Maybe she's busy tonight, though. Or out of town. Not that it's any of his business, he reminds himself as he fills a glass about three-quarters of the way with regular milk. The man and his daughter are customers. It doesn't matter if she's possibly the cutest little girl he's seen in his life and he has a smile that makes him want to melt. They belong to someone else, and they're customers.

After he mixes up the milk and chocolate syrup, he drops some ice in another glass and fills it with Coke. He mentally braces himself and brings the drinks out to the table, where the girl—June, he guesses her name is, since her dad called her "June bug"—is talking to him. Her father is listening intently, and Balthazar feels another unwelcome twinge in his heart. He obviously loves his daughter a lot, and he probably shows the same devotion to the girl's mother, too. His wife is one lucky woman.

"Here you are, love," he says, setting the glass of chocolate milk in front of June. "And here you go," he adds, setting down the glass of Coke. "Are you ready to order, or do you need a minute?"

June immediately tears open the straw Balthazar also set in front of her and starts blowing bubbles in the chocolate milk before giggling. Her dad laughs and the smile he flashes at Balthazar is almost criminal. It's not fair that he can smile at him like that, lighting up his whole face. "I think we know what we want. Ready, Junie?"

June pauses her bubble-blowing long enough to nod excitedly. "Can I have a grilled cheese sandwich, please?" she asks, looking up at Balthazar with her blue eyes wide.

"Sure thing, love. Fries or carrots with that?"

"Carrots, please!"

She is definitely the cutest child he's seen in ages. "Alright, love. And for you?"

Her dad, to his knowledge, hasn't even opened his menu. "Double bacon cheeseburger, no tomato, and rare as possible." A heart attack on a bun.

"Fries with that?"

"Sure."

"Daddy," June says, and Balthazar thinks she kicks his leg under the table because there's a small thud. "You gotta eat your vegetables!"

Balthazar lets out an unseemly snort of laughter, and the other man grins, letting out a resigned sigh. "Yeah, okay. Can I swap out the fries for veggies?"

"Sure thing," Balthazar says once he composes himself. "Anything else?"

"Nope, I think that's it."

"Alright, it'll be just a few minutes." He stashes his notepad again and hurries to the kitchen to put in their order.

For the next forty-five minutes, he goes back and forth to their table nine or ten times to check on them. They're probably getting sick of seeing him, especially after he brought out their food, but he can't stay away from them for long. He knows it's stupid to hope for anything from the girl's father, but they both have impossibly sweet smiles—although the man's looks like it could get a touch predatory if he wanted—and he wants to make sure they're doing okay.

He finally brings them their check before slinking away, and father and daughter take another minute before heading to the register to pay—not that Balthazar's watching. He's checking on a few more tables, but when he hears the front door open and close, he glances up long enough to see June on her dad's hip, leaning her head on his shoulder. She'd been looking like she was starting to nod off at the table, so it doesn't surprise Balthazar. After they leave, he starts to clear and wipe down their table, and he suddenly grins. It looks like they liked him, too, because they left an eight-dollar tip. Their meal wasn't that expensive, so he hadn't been expecting it at all.

He pockets the cash and checks on table 24's orders.

"Have fun, Junie Bee?" the man asks as his daughter slides her hand into his.

"Mmhmm. The food was good."

"Yeah, I thought so, too." The man takes a quick back glance at the restaurant. Through the window, past the decals proclaiming the restaurant's new specials, he can see their waiter at another table, flashing a tired smile at another set of customers. He's not sure if it's just him, but that smile seems more forced than it did when he was smiling at them.

"Can we come back tomorrow?" June asks, tugging him in the direction of their house.

He laughs, squeezing her hand. "Maybe. We'll see."

It's three more days before they come back, not that Balthazar's counting. He certainly didn't peer into the crowd every few hours to see if they were there or watch the door for that distinctive mop of strawberry-blond hair. But when he glances up three days later to see Anna leading a familiar pair of customers to a table, an unnecessary swell of excitement passes through him, to be quickly replaced by disappointment when he realizes she's seating them in Meg's section.

For the next thirty minutes or so, Balthazar tries to pretend he doesn't half-hope the man—damn it all, he still doesn't know his name—will pull him aside and talk to him or wave at him or otherwise acknowledge his presence. He doesn't, although his daughter grins and gives him an excited wave, and it's physically impossible for him to not return either the smile or the wave.

Later—he's halfway through filling glasses for a table—he feels a tug on his shirt and glances down. There's June grinning up at him, looking impossibly adorable with her hair braided down her back. Balthazar imagines for a minute that her father was the one who sat down and fixed her hair, patiently twisting it between his fingers. But, no, June's mother probably did it, even though, again, she's nowhere to be seen. Maybe this is the time she needs to herself. Maybe they're pregnant and she doesn't feel like going out.

"Hello, love," he says, crouching down to meet her intensely focused gaze. "What can I help you with?"

June rocks back and forth, heel to toe, for a minute. "I got lost," she says finally. "Can you help me get back to my table?"

He's in the middle of a task and her claim of being lost seems like utter crap in the first place—the restaurant really isn't that big—but it's obvious that she likes him for whatever reason, so he stops what he's doing. "Alright, love. Let's go find your daddy."

She immediately grabs his hand and pulls him to his feet and away from the soda dispenser, confirming what Balthazar suspects: she knows exactly where she's going. He's half-tempted to pry for information about her family but that would be rude and creepy, so he holds his tongue and lets her lead him to her table.

As if sensing their approach, June's father turns in his seat to look at them. His eyes widen almost imperceptibly and a strange combination of emotions flits across his face, so quickly that Balthazar can't register them all. As they draw closer, he stands up, looking apologetic. "What happened?" he asks, looking from Balthazar to June and back, as if expecting the worst.

"She got lost. She says," Balthazar adds pointedly, looking down at June but giving her a quick smile anyway.

"I did!" June protests.

"Says the girl who led the way," he teases, and June's father snorts with laughter.

She pouts and takes her seat again, staring sullenly at her half-empty plate.

"Sorry," her dad says with a momentary glance back at his daughter. There's a fond smile on his face, and Balthazar's heart melts a little more. In fact, now that they're basically at eye level (the other man is maybe an inch or two taller than him, but his eyes are still as intensely blue as they were last time), he's even more attractive, and Balthazar hates himself a little more. The man is married. Off-limits. Balthazar doesn't break those rules. "She likes attention. Hope she didn't completely drive you crazy," he adds.

"Not at all. She's fine."

"I'm Lu," the other man says after a moment. "Balthazar, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that's right." Crap. Now that he's introduced himself, his heart rate is picking up and he feels like this could be getting more intense. Or maybe he's reading way too far into it. After all, his daughter all but admitted that she likes him. Lu's being friendly. That's all.

The other man nods. "Well, thanks for bringing her back. I appreciate it."

"Yeah. No problem." Before he can think better of it, he flashes one last, brief smile at Lu before heading back to the soda machine. He has tables to take care of, after all.

When they leave, he has to force himself not to watch them go.

Over the next two months, Lu and June stop in at least once a week, sometimes twice. It's always just the two of them—Lu's wife conspicuously absent, and Balthazar tries not to wonder where she is—and June always waves at him. He waves back and, unless they happen to be seated at one of his tables, ducks away before Lu has a chance to notice him. He has to keep reminding himself that Lu is married and straight, but if anything, it just makes it more difficult for him to keep his demeanor professional. Balthazar is wildly attracted to him and it's frustrating that all the men he's been attracted to lately are straight, taken, or both. Even Castiel got a boyfriend recently, ending their mutual agreement of "if I'm horny and you're available, I'm calling you." He sure knows how to pick them. It's only exacerbating his sexual frustration.

Still, he's courteous as possible to Lu while being downright to sweet to June, who is an adorable child. He catches himself imagining spending time with both of them, shoving the thoughts out of his head as fast as he can. It doesn't bode well for his emotional stability to think about that.

And then one night, he's getting ready to wrap up with his last table for the evening when the front door opens up. He looks up as he starts to cash out the order and there's Lu near the hostess booth, but with no June in sight.

Lu's looking around, and Balthazar quickly lowers his gaze to the register, pretending he wasn't just ogling the man. It's difficult, but he manages.

"Balthazar."

That's Lu's voice. He's heard it enough by now to know it's him. He steels himself and looks up, a warm smile unconsciously sliding into place. He hates the way the sight of him sends his heart racing, but he can't make himself hate Lu. He can hate himself for it, though. "Yes, Lu?" He can also hate the way Lu looks pleased about Balthazar remembering his name.

The strawberry blond opens and closes his mouth once before finally asking, "How late are you working tonight?"

Straight. Married. Straight. Married. Not for you. "My shift is over in ten minutes. Why?"

Lu's quiet for another long moment. "I was wondering if you'd like to have a drink with me."

His knee-jerk reaction is to yell, "Absolutely!" and practically dash out the door, dragging Lu with him and leaving a Balthazar-shaped hole in the glass, cartoon-style, but he restrains himself. It's not a date. Lu is straight. Lu is married. Lu is happily married with a lovely daughter and possibly another kid on the way. This is probably a "two friends getting to know each other"-type of date, not a "possibly leading to sex"-type of date.

He wants to say no. He wants Lu and June out of his life so he can go back to sleeping at night, so he doesn't have to be reminded of their existence, so he can pretend everything is fine. But he really wants to get to know them, too, even if he ends up caring about them a lot more than they care about him. "Yeah, sure," Balthazar says, managing to keep the excitement out of voice.

Apparently, he managed it a little too well because a slightly crestfallen look crosses Lu's face. "You don't have to if you don't want to. I mean, it's not gonna upset me or anything."

He doesn't know for sure if Lu's picked up on his non-heterosexuality. While California is a fairly liberal state, he's aware that some straight men are still a little put off by the idea of hanging out with non-straight men. He just doesn't want to bring it up now, in the middle of the damn restaurant, and have Lu freak out on him. At the same time, he doesn't want to make it seem like he's reading too much into the invitation by bringing it up, either. He doesn't know how to tell Lu that, yes, he does want to spend time with him even though he's not sure exactly how the night will turn out, or how Lu's wife will feel about it (as he silently curses that damned wedding ring).

"It's not that," he says, and he forces a laugh that, somehow, doesn't sound insincere at all. "Just... tired, that's all. It's been a long day."

"Oh. Um, then some other time?"

Lu looks genuinely disappointed, and Balthazar is pretty sure it's the same face June would have made the first night after he told her they were out of chocolate milk. "Tonight's fine. Let me just finish up here, alright?"

"Yeah, that's fine," Lu says, a bright smile cracking his face.

Lu's suggestion for a bar is only a few blocks away, but they take Balthazar's car anyway because he doesn't feel like leaving it in the parking lot overnight. There's so much he wants to ask on the way over—where June is, what brought this on, what's going on between them, if his wife knows about this—but none of those questions seem appropriate, so he stays quiet until Lu asks, "Have you been here before?"

Balthazar shakes his head. He's not really into the whole bar scene, but he's so on-edge that he could use a drink right now. He wishes he knew how to play it, but Lu has him nervous. Maybe this was a mistake. "Have you?"

"Once or twice. It's not too bad." Lu slides out of the car and slams the door. Balthazar locks in and follows him to the front door of the bar. As Lu holds open the door for him, he adds, "So that accent. It's real?"

Balthazar isn't quite sure what to make of the question, but he snorts with laughter anyway. "Yes, it's real. I moved to the States a few years ago."

"You're from England, then?" Lu glances around before leading the way to the bar.

"Sort of. Originally from a small town near Paris, but we moved from France to England when I was ten. That's where I learned English, actually."

Lu raises an eyebrow. "So your native language is French?"

"What can I get for you?" the bartender asks, a pretty blond girl whose name tag reads Jo.

Lu motions to Balthazar to order first. "Absolut martini."

"Jack and Coke."

"Coming right up. Same tab or separate?"

"Same," Lu says as Balthazar says, "Separate." They exchange glances and Lu says, "I can get it. It's no big deal."

Jo must take that as the final word because she heads further down the bar to start on their drinks. Balthazar can't keep the slightly bitterness out of his tone as he asks, "Are you sure your wife is okay with that?"

The other man shoots him a completely puzzled look. "I'm not married."

"You're wearing a wedding ring," Balthazar points out. As if Lu completely forgot about it.

"This?" He holds up his left hand for confirmation. "It's not a wedding ring. Well, it is, but it's not mine. It was my mom's before she died. It's just the only finger it'll fit." He pauses for a moment, and before Balthazar can apologize—feeling both like an idiot and an incredible surge of relief, although he doesn't really know why because Lu's still straight, after all—he adds, "I'm divorced, actually. About a year ago."

"I'm sorry. I had no idea."

"Don't be. It was for the best. Eve... wasn't good. For me or June."

"I'm sorry about that," Balthazar says quietly as Jo slides their drinks toward them. Lu hands her his credit card.

"Cash it out or leave it open?"

"Leave it open."

Balthazar takes a sip of his martini. Jo made it really strong, but it's good. "So where's June tonight?"

"My brother Gabe is watching her. He's pretty good about taking care of her when I ask. It's not often, anyway."

"That's good." He knocks back a long swallow of his martini. "So in answer to your earlier question, yes, my first language is French."

"You don't have a French accent. That's pretty impressive."

Balthazar smiles. "I had good teachers. Also, after we moved, my mother only spoke to us in English and expected us to do the same. I think if she had her way, we wouldn't have learned French in the first place."

"Why not?"

"She never spoke French very well in the first place. Her problem for marrying a Frenchman. He spoke English a lot better than she spoke French, so she really just wanted us to learn English, but obviously, if you live in France, you have to speak French."

"Well, yeah. That would make sense, after all."

"I agree, but my mother took a bit of convincing."

Lu laughs as Balthazar drains his glass, smiling.

"Are you having June learn another language?"

"Maybe once she starts first grade. It's an option. I'll leave it up to her, though."

"She's older than she looks."

Lu shakes his head. "She's already six. There was just a lot of crap that happened in the last year and a half. Had to keep her out of school a little longer than I wanted to."

"Stuff with the divorce?"

"Yeah. Unfortunately. I tried to shield her from the worst of it, but... not so well."

Balthazar wants to ask, but he has a feeling it's venturing out of idle bar chat and into serious, in-depth discussion territory. He doesn't want to bring down the evening, but he has this strange desire to comfort him—for what reason, he doesn't really know.

Another martini later, the conversation has shifted into altogether lighter topics. They discover they both have an affinity for trashy cult-classic movies and Doctor Who, and a mutual disdain for slasher films. The way Lu explains it, "I don't mind horror movies. But if it's nothing but gore, it's boring."

Balthazar is finally starting to come to grips with accepting Lu as just a friend. The slight ache in his chest is subsiding and he's almost managed to convince himself that he's okay with it now, that it's all he really wanted anyway. And that's when Lu has to throw him for another loop.

In one smooth motion, Lu reaches out, catches the back of Balthazar's neck, pulls their heads close, and presses their mouths together.

The bottom drops out of Balthazar's stomach and his head starts spinning and after a moment, he realizes he's white-knuckling the bar top next to him. Lu definitely doesn't kiss like a straight man, and Balthazar has kissed enough straight men to know the difference. No, while there is hesitation in Lu's kiss, it isn't out of uncertainty but out of concern for pushing him too far, not wanting to force Balthazar into something he might not want. He's kissing softly, waiting to gauge his reaction, lips parted just slightly, tongue gently teasing the seam of their mouths. Balthazar's pulse is pounding in his ears, and he's trying not to let himself get swept away this quickly but he wants to bury his hands in Lu's hair and keep him close. Somehow, though, he's paralyzed and all he can do is spread his lips more.

And then Lu starts to pull back, and Balthazar comes back into his head long enough to follow his movement, leaning forward to keep their lips locked together. Don't you dare stop kissing me, his action says. He swears he feels the corners of Lu's mouth quirk into a smile as his hand, which had dropped from the back of his neck, comes back up and his fingertips pressing against his skin is enough to draw a low moan out of his throat, into Lu's mouth. Automatically, he slides his hand into Lu's hair and he fists the silky strawberry-blond strands and Lu's tongue slips into his mouth and it's more sweet, more claimed than he's felt in a long time. Now, more than ever before, he can easily imagine himself tumbling into bed with Lu and he prays it's where tonight is heading. In a matter of a half an hour, he's learned that Lu's single and, judging by what's turning into a marathon make-out, not straight. All he can think is that he actually just might have a chance with Lu and it really seems like Lu's into him. It's reassuring and emboldens him until Lu finally, reluctantly, pulls himself away.

"Sorry. I wanted to do that for awhile."

"I've wanted you to do that for awhile," Balthazar admits. "But I thought you were married. And straight," he adds quietly.

Lu shakes his head and spares a second to press a quick kiss to his lips. "Not married. Definitely not straight."

"Good to know. Very good to know."

"Yeah," Lu breathes, a small smile playing across his face.

"So is this a date?"

"If you want it to be. I was hoping so... and I'm kinda thinking you were, too."

Balthazar chuckles softly. "I wasn't going to say it, but yes, I was."

Lu's smile widens. "Good."

Someone clears their throat, and Balthazar suddenly realizes how close their faces still are. He looks to the side and there's Jo, leaning against the bar and shooting a mischievous grin at them. "You guys want anything else?" she asks innocently.

"You want another drink?" Lu asks him.

"Yeah, I could handle another," Balthazar says, even though he knows that with the way Jo's been mixing his drinks, he's probably over the legal limit right now.

"Alright. Another Absolut martini for the gentleman, then," Lu quips, leaning back to sit up straight while his hand finds Balthazar's on his leg.

After he starts on his third, time starts dripping by in strange increments. He's not exactly sure what he's saying, but he registers the almost perpetual smile on Lu's face and the way their bodies are in nearly constant contact somehow. Jo swings by an interminable amount of time later and brings a fourth martini, and as he's finishing that one off, Lu asks, "Do you work tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Balthazar murmurs, draining his glass and setting it back down. "I have to be there at seven."

"Evening?"

"Morning."

"Oh. Shit. It's almost midnight."

Balthazar blinks. It couldn't possibly be that late already, could it? But he checks his watch and confirms that, yes, it's nearly midnight, and he is far too drunk to drive.

"Here, give me your keys," Lu says, holding out his hand.

"Aren't you drunk?"

"I only had one. I'm sober now."

"Oh. Okay." Balthazar slides off his bar stool as Lu motions for the tab and he reaches into his pocket for his car keys. "Erm, how's this gonna work?"

"I'm gonna drive you home and then call a cab back to my place." Lu signs for the tab and pockets his credit card before standing up, shooting a quick wave over his shoulder at Jo.

"You don't have to."

"Don't have to what?" Lu accepts Balthazar's keys as he holds the front door open for him.

"Call a cab. You can stay at my place."

Lu's quiet for a minute, possibly mulling over this proposition. "You sure?"

"Yeah. 'S your brother expecting you back tonight?"

The strawberry blond chuckles. "Well, I texted him earlier and told him not to expect me home until later, if at all. June's already asleep, so it wouldn't make sense to wake her up now."

"She know where you were tonight?"

"I told her I was possibly going on a date with that nice waiter from Biggby's. She seemed okay with it. She remembered you, after all."

Balthazar blinks. The car doors unlock and he drops into the passenger's seat before saying, "She didn't think it was odd that you were going on a date with another man?"

Lu shakes his head. "She's used to Uncle Gabe and Uncle Sam. Same-sex relationships don't faze her after my brother."

He's not sure if Lu meant to be funny or not, but he snorts with laughter anyway and buckles his seatbelt.

"Where's your place from here?"

"This is it," Balthazar murmurs, opening his door and stepping out. Aside from dictating directions for the last ten minutes, they passed the drive in relative silence. It's a comfortable silence, though; a surprisingly companionable one.

"You sure it's okay?" Lu asks. He climbs out of the car and heads to the front door, handing Balthazar his keys so he can unlock the door.

"Yeah, it's fine. Promise," he adds with what he hopes is a seductive grin.

Lu looks unconvinced but follows Balthazar inside.

The moment the door is closed behind them, Balthazar strips off his shirt and drops it to the floor. It's one of the things he didn't realize about himself until a few years ago, but he either wears V-neck shirts (like the one he just pulled off) or no shirt at all, and he prefers no shirt. After all, he worked for months to get his stomach just the way he wanted, and now that he's achieved that level, he's working on maintaining it, but he also loves showing it off.

He turns to pull Lu toward the bedroom—Jesus, he wants Lu so badly, he's being far more brazen about it than normal—and notes with satisfaction that the other man's eyes never leave his body. He smirks to himself, pleased with the open admiration in Lu's eyes.

Their lips meet again after Balthazar slams the bedroom door closed and tugs off Lu's shirt. They wind up on his bed, and he can't believe this is actually happening. He's dreamed about sleeping with Lu more than he cares to admit, and it's really about to happen. It's too good to be true, Lu's lips dragging down his neck and leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Balthazar reaches down to unzip Lu's jeans, and suddenly the other man's hands are grabbing his wrists. "Wait."

"I have condoms," Balthazar says, pulling one of his hands free to run through the strawberry blond's hair.

"That's... no. Not like this."

"Huh?"

"Too drunk to drive is too drunk to fuck," Lu murmurs, and Balthazar can hear the restraint in his voice.

"I'm okay," he says. "I want you."

"I want you, too," Lu confirms. "But not like this. You're hammered. It's not right, and I don't just want sex."

"That's what I want," Balthazar murmurs, and even in his drunken state, he can tell immediately that he's said the wrong thing. Lu tenses, pulls away from him, and he regrets saying it. "That's not—"

"I should go," Lu says. He extracts himself from Balthazar's grip, looks around for his shirt. "I'll... this was a mistake."

"Lu, wait. That's not what I mean." Balthazar fights not to slur his words. "Please, just... don't leave. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Just... I'll explain later, alright?" Now that he's thinking about it, he's just flat-out exhausted. He probably wouldn't last that long in the first place.

Lu still looks hurt, though, and he appears to be fighting to decide what to do.

"Don't leave," Balthazar pleads, one last time. He just knows that if Lu leaves tonight, leaving all of this left unsaid between them, there will be no second chance. He'll never see Lu again. He can't accept that.

There should be something amazing between them, something neither of them can quite fathom yet. If he lets go right now, he'll never forgive himself. He just knows that if he never sees Lu again, he'll blame himself.

But Lu sighs. "Okay. I'll just write it off as drunken nonsense, okay?" he half-asks, half-states.

"Yeah. That's fine. I'm sorry. I promise I'll explain in the morning."

Lu hesitates for another moment before nodding.

Twenty minutes later, they're both fast asleep.

You'll have to forgive the abrupt ending. I promise I'm already working on the next part.