Chapter Text
The service was thought up by some union rep or another. Supposedly, a bit of fun.
“So I just leave my number?” John asked, holding a folded piece of paper in his fingers, hovered over a bucket of similar slips.
“Yes!” Harry said, nudging him, “Just do it! Come on, it worked for us didn’t it?” She smiled at the girl next to her and slipped hand through her arm.
“You guys were just lucky.”
“Not luck Johnny, fate.”
He rolled his eyes, “That’s not a thing. I don’t believe there is some woman out there fated to meet me.”
“Well, it there is, you won’t meet her using that bucket,” Clara piped up.
John glanced down at the label pressed around the side of the plastic bucket. Men Seeking Men.
“Whoops.” John said, retracting his hand.
“Yeah ‘whoops’.” Harry grinned.
“Shut up.”
“You’ve been there before,” Harry said, “Maybe the change will be a good. God knows you are useless with women.”
John wanted to move away from the subject. He didn’t care which bucket he put his number in, the whole thing seemed ridiculous.
“It’s a bit desperate isn’t it?” he asked, “Putting your number in a bucket and hoping someone picks it out in some sort of twisted valentines day match-making perversion.”
“It’s a bit of fun!” Harry insisted. “Alright, I admit Clara and I were a lovely but unlikely thing to happen. No one is expecting you to meet your true love and ride off into the sunset. Just put the fucking number in the fucking bucket and chances are you’ll get laid.”
John sighed. He shouldn’t have, because at that moment his shoulder slumped and he grip loosened. Before he knew what was happening, Harry had whipped the paper from his hand and thrust it deep into the depths of the bucket, her arm up to the elbow in folded slips of paper.
“Harr-” John moved after her but stopped when their scuffle started to attract attention. “Wrong bucket,” he finished, lamely.
“Was it though?” Harry asked, retrieving her hand now empty of paper, “I don’t think so.”
--
It wasn’t long after that when the whole thing started. He’d been in the most boring Haematology lecture of his life when his phone vibrated against his hip.
- When and where would you like to meet up for sex? SH
It took John a second to register what he was seeing and to remember he was supposed to be expecting a random communication from a stranger. He hadn’t expected it to be quite so blunt though.
- What, no small talk? :p
- Tedious. SH
Well, John thought, I suppose it is. Still, there was no way he was meeting up with a stranger for random sex without at least knowing something about him. For it was a ‘him’ Harry had seen to that.
- Maybe. But preferable. :)
- Does that preference extend to personal details or is it confined to the mere representation of familiarity to reduce the guilt associated with organising random sexual encounters? SH
John was coming off a dry spell. A long one. his last ‘sexual encounter’ had been in first year when the delights of freshers week had led to an impromptu one-night-stand after a pub golf outing. The guy had lived down the corridor from him in halls and it had been awkward for the rest of the year, especially when exiting the shared bathroom to find him waiting to use it in nothing but a towel. The experience had put him off for a long time and his workload at uni had meant he didn’t really have time for it anyway. Now, two years later, he thought he possibly had time for a little casual intimacy but the thought of it being a completely random person still struck him as odd. His attempts at engaging the very few women he came into contact with in to going on a date with him often ended in disaster. Like Harry said, he really was awful with women.
- Tell me as much or as little as you like.
John was packing up at the end of the lecture by this point. Shoving all his books into his messenger bag and throwing it over his shoulder.
“Someone interesting?” a voice asked at this shoulder.
“Hey Mike,” John replied, “No, not really.” He put his phone back in his pocket and turned to his friend.
“Pub?” Mike asked.
“Suppose so.”
It was Wednesday after all, and it was sort of a standing arrangement. On the way from the room they collected the rest of their group: John’s other housemate BIll as well as the girl they hung around with, Molly and Sarah. The five of them were sometimes joined by the criminology lot from the lecture theatre across the hall, but it didn’t appear to have kicked out yet. John knew they’d turn up at the pub later it they wanted to, so they didn’t hang around.
It wasn’t unusual for them to spend the rest of the afternoon there. They had no more lectures for the day and didn’t start til late the next day so there was little need to remain sober.
“I’ll get them in.” John said, moving towards the bar.
“I’ll help.” Mike followed as the rest of them settled around a table, pulling extra chairs over where needed.
At the bar John pulled his phone from his pocket.
- No names. No personal details but I will indulge your need for small talk on other subjects. SH
Whoever this guy was, he was absolutely mad. Small talk huh? John grinned a small smile.
- Nice weather we are having.
“You’ve got a new bird.” Mike piped up, “Haven’t seen you texting like that since you and Sarah were trying to make a go of it.”
“That was college.” John said, hoping to distract Mike’s attention.
“So? College, Uni, wherever you are, that grin means you’re getting laid. Or hoping to.”
“Fine.” John sighed and turned to face Mike fully. “Harry put my number in that pick & Mix Valentines nightmare a few weeks ago. They just made contact.”
“Ooh.” Mikey said rubbing his hands together, “Stranger sex. Brilliant.”
“Don’t act like you’d do it anymore than I would.” John said wagging a finger, “You and Molls have got it pretty sewn up as far as I can tell.”
“That’s why I need to live Vicariously through you.”
“My life is no more exciting than yours. You might be settled but I am decidedly not so. Nor do I have time for it. I work you know.”
“Yeah, on the weekends.”
“And I have uni during the week. And placement and coursework and everything else. We’re med students Mike, unless you’re dating another one there is no way to make it work.”
“And you and Sarah are…”
“Ancient history. We’re friends, we dated in college but it didn’t work. I’m too closed off probably.”
The boys looked at each other for a time before clearing their throats awkwardly.
“Well, that got deep.” Mike laughed.
“Yeah and that’s before a pint. Do me a favour, don’t try to talk to me about this later, God knows what I’ll say.”
“I’ll leave you to text your mystery woman in peace then. Not sure I want the details.”
“Mystery man.” John said turning back to the bar and then, “Harry” by way of explanation.
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“And you are the only non-family member that knows that. So I’d appreciate some discretion.”
“Absolutely.” Mike said, turning to the bra as well, “Say no more. You know they don’t care though.”
“I know.”
--
A few pints later and John was staring intently into his own eyes in the bathroom mirror. It’s how he could tell he was drunk. He was appraising his own reflection and had concluded he was indeed smashed. Nothing new there then. Maybe it was the drink talking, but he had also concluded that he was, at this moment, not bad looking. He wasn’t ugly, short yet muscular from his rugby days and his face was quite expressive in a way that people usually found endearing. Certainly not the type of person to be a disappointment upon arriving for casual sex with a stranger. He dug his phone from his pocket with fumbling fingers.
- It’s raining. SH
When had they moved on to weather reports? Oh. Yeah. Small talk.
- Did you get wet? ;)
John laughed. Even drunk he knew how stupid that was. He did not expect a reply, it was nearly closing time and John was sure SH had better things to be doing at half eleven on a Wednesday evening than sitting around waiting for his inane text messages.
- We have progressed to obvious innuendo? Is it your intoxication that invited this shift? SH
John stared at his phone. For a brief moment, he wondered if SH could be one of his friends trying to wind him up, how else could he know?
Luckily, John wasn’t the type of drunk to take leave of his brain entirely and reminded himself that upon receiving a flirtatious text at a late house from a perfect stranger it was probably quite safe to assume there was alcohol involved.
- Beer does wonderful things. Would probably even make casual sex with a stranger seem like a good idea.
- No small talk? SH
- When and where?
- Your place. Tonight. SH
John paused. There was no way he was sneaking a strange man into his room without BIll and Mike noticing.
- No go. Housemates are a fucking nightmare.
- Fine. 221B Baker street. Come at once. SH
And just like that, John has arranged to fuck a stranger. There was a tiny part of his otherwise intoxicated brain that was telling him this might be a bad idea. It could be dangerous, but John knew he would go anyway, he always did. Besides, he could hold his own in a fight and he was pretty sure axe murderers didn’t choose their victims by pulling numbers from buckets in student unions.
John went outside, and flagged down a taxi.