Part II
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"Looks like you've got another clingy one," PJ's voice stops Phil in his tracks and he spins on a heel, careful not to slosh the martini in his hand; PJ leans against the bar, quirking a brow and nodding his head toward something behind Phil.
Phil turns, gaze catching on the luminescent wings of the angel he'd just- well, they'd- anyway, the guy's sitting down at a table near the back, far from the stage and any other patrons who still sit enraptured by the show.
"Need me to call Chris and have him escorted out?" PJ asks, ready to enact their standard protocol when one of Phil's break activities seems to have missed the message that this was a one-time thing. Except...
"I asked him to stay," Phil blurts out, eyes widening slightly before he presses his lips together, and he whirls back around. He's fairly certain he can't look at PJ right now - his best friend would have no problem spotting the blush Phil feels creeping up his cheeks in spite of the dim atmosphere, and he's not in the mood to undergo the embarrassment of an interrogation right now.
Besides, it's not like he's never slept with someone more than once. That'd be a bit unreasonable. And the angel had been good, really good, so who gives a shit if Phil wants seconds?
Vaguely, he hears the clink of a glass on the counter and a muttered 'mate' as PJ returns to his actual job tending the bar; at least Phil's bought himself some time. He uses it to visit the angel in question, who looks a bit startled when Phil approaches, eyes going wide as he sucks in a breath. His feathered wings twitch slightly, and Phil can't help but be reminded of not long ago, when they'd been pinned to the bed and doing exactly the same-
"Is that for me?" The guy asks, and Phil blinks, refocuses on the present. And only lets himself get a little excited about the future, once his shift ends in...just twenty minutes. He sets the glass on the table.
"It is, angel boy," Phil lets his lip curl up, having practiced exactly the words he wants to say next. Because he'll be damned if he lets this suave facade slip any more than he has since meeting the angel. "Dry and dirty, since you seemed to enjoy that earlier." Phil's half a second from attempting a wink when he abandons the effort - he knows how shit he is at winking, it's probably for the best to leave it to a simple smirk.
And it does seem to have its intended effect: the angel goes a bit wide-eyed, dipping his head in a way that says he's most definitely flustered before reaching for the glass and taking a sip. Phil's transfixed on his mouth, then, on the soft pink lips he'd been kissing not half an hour ago as he waits for the angel's verdict - this drink's certainly not as sweet as the sugary concoction he'd rejected earlier, which was quite a shame as Phil would've liked to taste it on the angel's lips.
The same angel now lowers the glass, and Phil doesn't miss the way his tongue flicks out and over his lips. Phil has half a mind to tell him to let Phil be the one to do that, but warm brown eyes finally lift to meet his and he's not entirely sure why he'd been planning to speak at all.
"It'll do." The angel tilts his head and his wings flutter behind him before settling. "I can think of a few things that might be a bit more satisfying, but I suppose I can wait for those." He shrugs and drops his attention back to the drink, and Phil's left attempting not to sputter, because what the hell is he meant to say to that? It's far easier when he's got a litany of chat-up lines and smooth comebacks floating around in his head, but right now all he can think about is what exactly he can do to the angel later that would be satisfying enough for him, what other tricks Phil has up his sleeve to get his name falling from the angel's lips-
"Your name!" Phil nearly shouts, half tempted to smack his own head. It's not like he's never hooked up with someone and not known their name, but he feels particularly bad about this one, especially given that he intends there to be more.
