Page 265 of Untouchable

Gil proceeds to tell a very long and overly-detailed story about how he’d thought he was being stalked by what turned out to be a cat with one eye.

By the end of Gil's story, Harp is thankful for how anxious he is to get inside. He's sure Parker is wondering where the hell they are now.

Inside, Parker has secured three seats for them at the bar and he waves them over happily. He's apparently been making friends with the bartender, who is ready to take their order as soon as they sit down.

Half of Harp thinks drinking is a bad idea. The other half of him just wants to forget how many human bodies are packed into this bar.

* * *

Parker can’t resist stealinga kiss from Harp as they sit down. He hates to admit it, but he’s glad Harp is sitting in the middle, putting a barrier between him and Gil. He looks down at the menu, parsing all the strange cocktail ingredients. None of them seem to make sense, but he’s fairly sure it’s not his dyslexia, it’s just that this place has particularly unusual ingredients.

"Sorry I chose such a popular spot," Gil says, sounding not at all sorry as he looks around the room. "First round's on me, okay? Since we have to wait."

"You really don't have to—" Harp begins.

"C'mon," Gil says, reaching behind Harp to clap Parker on the shoulder. "We'll do a round now, right? While I can still drink and be a DD. Shot of choice, Parker?"

Parker glances between Harp and Gil as if asking for permission.

“Whiskey?” he offers.

Unlike Parker, Gil doesn't wait for permission.

"Whiskey it is," Gil says, waving down the bartender, passing over his debit card, and opening a tab.

After a moment, they have three short shots of brown liquor in front of them.

“Should we, um, toast?” Parker asks, picking his up. He glances at Harp and smiles, wondering if he remembers the first time they’d done shots together, but Harp barely seems to register Parker is talking to him.

“Well?” Gil says, looking at Parker expectantly. Harp looks glassy-eyed and slightly panicked.

Parker clears his throat and lifts his shot glass.

“Well, since it’s almost the new year… to new friends, new relationships, and new beginnings. I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be, or any people I’d rather be with.”

He throws his shot back neatly, and—miraculously—manages not to choke and spit it up all over the bar.

* * *

Harp swallowsthe whiskey without wincing. He's proud of Parker's toast, wondering if Gil thinks it's earnest or just a performance, but knowing that Parker is telling the truth to his core.

For a moment, Harp knows with conviction that Parker is everything Harp believes him to be.

And then Parker looks at him and lets out a sound like a giggle and Gil rolls his eyes and an ugly part of Harp feels unmoored, uncertain again. He hopes abruptly, selfishly that Parker stays on his best behavior, doesn’t give in if Gil starts baiting him.

A big piece of Harp is just happy that the crowd is fading into the din, that the bartender is polite and doesn't stare at them, that he can simply be present in the moment.

Parker reaches out and puts a hand on Harp’s thigh, squeezing lightly.

“You okay?” he says softly.

"Yep, uh," Harp says. His head swims. Shit, I forgot that’s my third drink. He's abruptly starving. "I'm good. We're good. Thanks."

Parker raises an eyebrow but doesn’t press it, looking back down to the cocktail menu once more.

“So, Mindy said the… Son of a Mule is really good,” he offers up, maybe trying to break the awkward silence that’s settling in.

Harp reads the description of the drink Mindy had suggested.

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