#bobbyrufus fic coming along

[myaimistrue]

ethel’s. a bobbyrufus fic written for day 3 of content creator celebration! the prompt was “hunters.”

warning for internalized homophobia and major repression (i promise this is a happy story)

read below the cut or on ao3 here!

As with most of their disagreements, Bobby knows from the start that no matter what he says, Rufus is going to get his way.

“Why would we stick around here any longer?” He says anyway. Bobby’s never been fond of the crammed-togetherness of cities, and Chicago is no different; he’s already itching to get back on the open road. “The hunt’s done. We can leave.”

“C’mon, Bobby.” Rufus gives him an easy grin. His teeth glint in the light of the parking lot fluorescents. “We never get over this way. Let me have tonight.”

“I’m tired.”

“Just one drink,” Rufus says. “There’s a bar I used to go to that I think you’d like. I’ll pay.”

Bobby scowls. “I’d like to get a move on.”

Rufus claps Bobby on the shoulder, and he’s getting in the front seat, the bastard. “Don’t worry, friend. It won’t take too long.”

So Bobby, because he can’t ever refuse Rufus anything, gets in the passenger seat and goes along for the ride.

It’s not too long before they reach the bar. It’s an out-of-the-way sort of place, tucked down a side street in what seems to be a quiet part of the city. A neon sign out front reads Ethel’s in bright purple, and Rufus breaks into a brilliant smile when he sees it.

“Ah, home sweet home.” He grabs Bobby’s wrist, so close to holding hands that Bobby considers wrenching his hand away—but he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t. “You’re gonna love this.”

Bobby’s not sure what he was expecting, but knowing Rufus, he thought it might be raucous, with loud music and gyrating bodies on a packed dance floor. But the inside of the bar is pretty much like any other midwestern bar Bobby’s found himself in over the years. Low lighting, quiet conversation, a pool table and a long wooden bar. It could be any place Bobby’s had a drink before.

He follows Rufus to the bar and sits down beside him as Rufus chatters about the place. “God, I used to come here all the time in my twenties,” he says with delight. “I got into so much trouble here.”

“Hey there, gentlemen.” The bartender has an earring to match Rufus’s, but instead of a stud or a hoop, a feather hangs there (Bobby tries not to stare). He smiles at them both warmly. “Can I get you anything?”

“We’ll both have a scotch. Whatever’s your best,” Rufus says and cuts Bobby’s protests off by saying, “I brought you out here—I’m paying. And don’t get that grumpy look.”

“I’m not grumpy,” Bobby says.

Rufus knocks their shoulders together. “Mm-hm.”

The bartender laughs as he pours their drinks. “You two are sweet.”

Bobby blinks. He glances over at Rufus, who is expertly avoiding his gaze. He glances around the room and sees a lot of men standing close. He sees two young guys holding each other close in the corner, the hands of one slipped in the back pockets of the other.

“Did you take me,” Bobby hisses, “to a gay bar?”

Rufus turns innocent eyes on him, which hasn’t worked since the first five minutes they knew each other. “What do you mean?”

“He thinks we’re a couple.” Bobby gestures at the bartender, who seems to be hearing this and is doing a pretty shitty job of keeping his amusement to himself. “And there are two guys kissing over there.”

“Well, good lord, Bobby. What should we do? Call the priest, see if he’ll perform an exorcism?” Rufus snips. “Don’t be an asshole.”

Bobby looks down at the bar, chastened; he keeps his head down as the bartender sets down their drinks.

“I just meant—” his voice falters. “I don’t know. You shoulda told me.”

“Bobby,” Rufus’s voice has gone softer, and he takes hold of Bobby’s elbow with a sure hand. “Would you have come here if I had told you?”

Bobby’s not a liar, so he stays quiet. He’s horribly aware of all the eyes that could be seeing the two of them right now, bent close and touching like the rest of the men in this bar. 

“I wanted to show you that it isn’t how you think it is,” Rufus says.

Bobby closes his eyes, and hates himself for telling Rufus what his dad used to say about people like them, the perversion of it, the way it should make any good man feel revolted, disgusted. Is this so bad, Rufus had asked him then, their faces inches apart in the darkened motel room, sweat cooling on their skin. Me and you. Is it really so bad? And God fucking help him, Bobby had shaken his head. He had nosed in to kiss Rufus again.

“It can be like us,” Rufus says quietly. “It can be like these guys in here. It doesn’t have to be wrong. It can be easy, and happy. And good. Jesus, Bobby, it can—” Rufus smiles and squeezes his elbow. “It can be real good.”

Bobby looks at him for a long moment, rare sincerity shining in his eyes, the kind of sincerity Bobby’s only seen in him since they’ve started… whatever this is.

“Alright. I’ll… I’m working on it.” Bobby finds himself saying. He takes a long sip of his scotch, and Rufus looks at him like he doesn’t know how he got so goddamn lucky. It’s scary. It’s exhilarating.

“Did I ever tell you,” Rufus begins, because he knows Bobby well enough not to linger on any of this, “about the time I lost my wallet here and ended up hunting it down all over the city?”

“I don’t think so.” Honestly, it wouldn’t matter if he had. Bobby just wants to sit here and listen to the familiar sounds of Rufus telling a story. 

“Oh! Well, let me set the scene. I was about twenty-two, maybe twenty-three, and I…”

Bobby tunes him out, a little, after that. He lets the rise and fall of Rufus’s voice soothe him, and he thinks about things. This bar, full of men who act like there’s nothing shameful about what they’re doing. Rufus, who has kissed Bobby more gently than he’s ever been kissed, who taught him to kill monsters and brought him here tonight. He thinks about his dad, dead in the ground and still whispering in his ear. 

Bobby takes another sip of his scotch for some liquid courage. Then he reaches out and takes Rufus’s hand, laces their calloused fingers together.

Miraculously, Rufus doesn’t falter. He keeps talking, but he smiles brilliantly, and he squeezes Bobby’s hand tight.

#this was sooo fun to write omg. i love them #bobbyrufus #bobby #rufus #spn #del's writing #spn fic #supernatural fic #fic