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It’s another night at Blues; the booze is flowing, the music is up, the cash is out and the dancers are smoking.
But not really. This is a smoke-free establishment, and it would be really weird if anyone was actually on fire.
“Hey,” Tucker says as soon as Kai throws herself down onto a bar stool. The leather squeaks against the shiny-slick edges of the sequins sewn into her panties. “That was one hell of a Pole-Battle. You wiped the floor with her.”
“Candi shoulda known better than to take me on,” Kai says primly as she can, fishes a twenty out from somewhere on her person below the counter. “I got waaayy more places for people to put dollars, and her choreography is shit. She’s gotta start practicing with a mirror, and I tell her, but does she listen?”
Kai carefully rolls the twenty with the rest of the bills and sticks it in her bra. She doesn’t exactly have pockets right now. She sighs and sips happily when Tucker passes her a glass of water.
“I mean, I know she’s new and all,” Kai continues. “But, like, you don’t challenge the most popular stripper in the club in your first month. Even if you are a size six hottie with a body. I mean, Pole Battles are supposed to be fun! You help each other rack in the cash. Somebody needs to tell her to calm down. Have a little fun.”
Tucker hums in agreement, eyes scanning the crowd. It’s Sami up next, and for all she’s not exactly one of the more high-energy dancers, she tends to get the room transfixed pretty quick, but in a quieter way. Kaikaina’s not sure what he’s looking for, he’s not gonna have anybody approaching the bar for at least another two minutes.
“At least Peter always listened to me when he was still new,” Kaikaina says, “And now look at ‘im. He told me he’s got Daisy’s college fund all taken care of and she’s only three and his blood pressure’s gone down a bunch. Bet his wife ain’t complaining either.”
Kai does a quick scan of the bar, waves at Caboose from his position near the door. He waves back excitedly. It’s been a good night, he hasn’t had to bounce anybody out yet. Tex is engrossed in something on the laptop at the music booth, and the other owner isn’t anywhere to be seen.
“But Candi’s never gonna pay for med school at this rate,” Kaikaina continues. “And, like, that sucks. Do you think I should try to yoda her or some shit?”
“Hmm?” Tucker says, distracted, “I mean, sure.”
“What are you starin’ at?” Kai asks, leaning over the bar and craning her neck so she can get a better angle at whatever’s keeping Tucker’s attention.
There’s a group of guys at the center table. Two blondes and, a brunette in a tiara. The closest guy has his back to the bar, but arms like that make themselves known at any angle.
“Ah,” she says, nodding. “Yeah. Biceps. Hot.”
Kaikaina is very aware of the Thing Tucker has for biceps or a nice pair of arms. It is A Thing. She knows it very well. Actually, a combination of Her Biceps and Tucker’s Thing for Biceps is probably at least 32% responsible for that first time they fucked. (The rest is 10% That Ass (His), 10% That Ass (Hers), 15% the fact that he’d responded to her pick up line with “Bow Chicka Bow Wow”, 7% he’d laughed at her train story instead of calling her a slut, 13% that Kaikaina never met a bluff she didn’t call, 11% the fact that Tucker is basically made of bluffs, 2% his smile, and 5% her Ping-Pong Ball Trick.)
“No, not that one,” Tucker says. “Next to him. With the freckles. Geez.”
Kaikaina looks again.
The man is very, very blond and very, very freckled. He keeps flushing from something his dark haired friend is saying to him, the one with the tiara on, and really, he’s a high-level blusher if you can see it from thirty feet away in a dimly lit bar.
He laughs, suddenly, head tilting back and the flashing lights of the bar catch on the arch of his throat, pink and blue light settling in the dip of his collarbone from where his shirt’s got a button undone. Kaikaina wonders how far the blush goes down. Wonders how far the freckles go down.
“I’m gonna fuck him,” Kaikaina announces.
“Not if I fuck him first,” Tucker responds on automatic.
Kaikaina turns sharp eyes at him. Tucker returns the glare. For a long moment, they size each other up.
Slowly, Tucker nods.
“We’re gonna fuck him,” Tucker says.
He holds out a fist. Kaikaina solemnly pounds it.
“Free drinks time, yo.”
“What— No!” Tucker protests. “I already gave all my allotted freebees out and Church’ll fire me if I go over again! And I already gave them the usual Bachelor Party complimentary drinks!”
“Bachelor Party?”Kai asks. “Is he—“
“Nah, I think it’s the one with a crown,” Tucker says. “You know. Just a guess.”
“Oh, good,” Kaikaina says. Because, like, she and Tucker both like to mess around, kay, but like, it’s not a big deal. Messing with to-be-grooms and brides? Big Deal. Big Fuckin’ Deal. More trouble than the fuck’s worth, and if it’s Kai saying it, it’s true. True as balls.
Also, Church has given them both the increasingly-annoyed lecture about not sleeping with the customers three times, and Tex had done it once. Although she was laughing through the entire thing, so Kai’s pretty sure that one didn’t count.
“Okay, fine, no free drinks,” Kaikaina says. “I’m buying them drinks.”
She digs around in her bra a bit until she finds the wad of cash from the pole battle, digs out a ten.
“What?” Tucker sputters, “Why?”
“Tucker,” Kaikaina sighs, rolling her eyes. “I am giving you an excuse to go over to the Hotass McFreckleface’s table and offer him free stuff. To go talk to him.”
Tucker’s eyes widen in understanding.
“Yeah. Get on my level, bitch,” Kaikaina says. “Now go hit on the eye candy. Don’t fuck it up.”
Tucker grins, glances around to make sure nobody’s watching and then pecks her on the cheek. She screws up her face in annoyance, keeps drinking her water. He gives her her change for the shots and pours. She smacks his ass as he passes and he doesn’t even jump.
As soon as he gets within eavesdropping range of the table, though, he regrets everything.
“Hands off the crown!” Tiara Man yelps. “That’s mine!”
“York, it says ‘I’m the bride’ on it!” Freckle McScorchingHot protests in the very voice of despair. “It has feathers. And rhinestones.”
“Well, I am!” Tiara Man, or York apparently, retorts. “She actually proposed to me, she proposed to me, I’m the bride. Me. Bride.”
“You’re drunk,” Hottie McFrecklehead says. “That is drunk people logic, York.”
“You just want my crown.”
“Drunk. People. Logic. North, help me out here.”
Biceps, or North apparently, just raises his eyebrows.
“I think he looks great.”
“Thank you.”
North smiles the smile of secret assholes everywhere and drinks his beer.
“What’s she doing for her hen party?” North asks, ignoring the betrayed expression on Freckle King of Hots’s face.
York shrugs.
“I dunno, man,” he says. “Her people of honor’re fucking Four Seven and Maine, but Connie’s planning the party and she is just. She is. Sneaky. Sneaky little shit. Tiny little sneaky shit woman.”
“I’m going to tell her you said that,” Frecklicious says, laughing. He takes a drag from his beer bottle and Tucker reminds himself not to stare at the lips. Don’t do that. No matter how…pink… or wet they are.
“Traiitooorrr!” York howls. “Betray a man when he’s drunk! Wait, tell her what?”
“Oh my god, never mind.”
“His brain never even made the connection,” North says, crossing his hands behind his head and leaning back. Wow, he has really good biceps. Like—no. Focus, Tucker. He and Kai already have a potential threesome-buddy picked out for the night, and yeah, those muscles aren’t exactly shabby either.
“Free shots!” he yelps sidling up to the table in a way that is not awkward at all. “Courtesy of the lady at the bar.”
North turns and waves a thank you to Kai. She wiggles her fingers back. When Freckles:The Sexy Album turns to wave a thank you as well, the gesture takes a turn for the lewd and she blows him a kiss. The guy colors all the way to the roots of his hair. Tucker grins, starts passing out the drinks.
Their fingers brush against the cold glass and the guy’s gaze jerks up to meet his. His face breaks out into this long, slow smile, like Tucker’s somebody better than just a guy handing him a shot. Oh, score. He and Kai are totally gonna score. He smiles back, his best, “Jump On It (i.e. me)” smile.
“Aren’t you gonna say thank you, Wash?” North asks, voice rich with laughter.
“Thanks,” Wash says. Wash. Wash. Tucker loves it when people he wants to fuck have one-syllable names.
Tucker wracks his brain for an appropriate pick up line. Tragically, he never gets the chance.
“All right,” Tex announces from the MC’s booth, “It’s that time of the night, fuckers. You know what I’m talking about. Amateur Hour. So c’mon over and sign up, we’ll get you a song and you can take your chances with the pole. Who knows? You might even get a job offer out of it.”
So right, that pick up line—
“Hey, hey Wash,” York says, poking at his friend’s face and mostly missing. “You can do that.”
“Do what?” Wash asks.
And then this York person says the most beautiful thing Tucker has heard in his whole damn life.
“You can do that. The pole-thing. Dance thing. In Basic, remember? You did the thing.”
Wash frowns and his nose scrunches up in a way that’s pretty much criminally adorable. Tucker makes a mental note: military. Uniform? God, he hopes so, Kai has such a thing for—
“No, I remember that,” North says. “He’s right, you were really good, Wash.”
“Damn right, I was good,” Wash says. “Wait—“
“Yes!” York cheers. “Yes, you’re going to do it right? You’re going to do it, right, Wash? I’ve never seen a cockroach pole dance before. C’mon, let’s pick your song!”
He gets unsteadily to his feet and grabs the back of Wash’s chair, trying to drag him towards the sign-ups.
“York, I can’t just go pole-dance,” Wash protests, holding onto the table for dear life. “I don’t have anything to wear!”
The table descends into giggles and also Tucker’s brain kind of…deflates. Because that mental image. He’s still standing there holding the tray but no one’s said anything yet and also what is moving? Who would want to move from this beautiful conversation and its associated mental images?
“No, fuck you, stop laughing!” Wash protests. “You don’t understand, you’ve got to grip with your thighs and I’m wearing jean— Oh, shut the fuck up.”
“Hey, hey, Hot Bartender Guy,” York says, catching Tucker’s wrist. “Tell him he should do the thing.”
“Oh my god, York, shut up,” Wash moans, burying his face in his hands.
“Um,” Tucker sputters, brain still a little broken and trying to catch up with this conversation. “You should do the thing?”
Tucker pauses, checks that last sentence. Confirms he didn’t do something awful like “You should do my thing” or “I’ve got a thing you could do,” or even “I could do your thing? I could bring a friend?”
“See, your hot bartender thinks you should do the thing,” York says, poking at him again.
“Yeah, Wash,” North chips in, that asshole-grin back. “Your hot bartender thinks you should do it. And the nice dancer you thought was ‘really talented’ bought you a drink—”
“You know what?” Wash snaps. “Fine. You guys are assholes.”
And then the guy just…just gets up and stalks over toward Tex and the sign ups. Tucker kind of dazedly makes his way back to the bar. Luckily, Kai’s been covering for him.
“What the fuck did you do,” she hisses.
“I didn’t do anything!” Tucker protests.
“Yeah, I can see that,” Kai says.
Tucker turns and sure enough, Wash’s standing at the side of the stage. Tex must know him or something, because she keeps trying to reach over and ruffle his hair. The last Amateur Hour contestant slides off the pole, giggling madly and Wash steps up. The blond bicep-y one wolf whistles loudly and Wash flips him off.
And then he’s just kinda standing there. Hot as fuck, fully clothed, standing next to a stripper pole and looking more than a little lost.
“What’s he doing?” Kaikaina hisses. “You can’t pole dance in jeans. At least not those jeans—“
Which is when the guy— Wash— just kind of sighs and starts taking his pants off.
Tucker’s mouth drops open. A glance at Kai reveals she’s beginning to look thoughtful in the kind of way that always seems to work out for Tucker.
And now Wash’s just standing there in a t-shirt and black boxer-briefs. Which looks a little silly and he must realize it, because he takes the shirt off too.
Tucker whimpers a bit. Kaikaina takes his hand comfortingly.
“I need a video camera in my eyeballs,” she says.
The music starts.
At the end of three minutes and sixteen seconds, Tucker’s mouth is still open. It is hanging open and he’s being such a goober but he can’t seem to close it. The guy—Wash— simply bows to the crowd, hurriedly sweeps up the cash collected on the floor and retrieves his pants from the side of the stage. He’s grinning as he makes his way back to the table, fist full of bills and clothes draped over his shoulder. The drunk one, the one with the tiara, Tucker’s doesn’t fucking care what his name was, he’s catcalling and fanning himself exaggeratedly. Wash throws his pants at his head.
Tucker turns to look at Kaikaina. Her eyes are huge and liquid.
“We have to hit that,” she tells him solemnly. “Tucker, this is important. We have to hit that. We need a plan.”
*
Two hours, three glasses of water for Wash, one ill-advised Prince song, one third-shift bartender replacement, a second pole battle that ended a lot differently, and a couple stomach cramps from laughing for North and York later, Church emerges from the back.
"Did I miss anything?" Church asks, joining Tex at the MC’s booth. He’s been stuck in the back doing paperwork most of the night.
"Only the most awkward seduction ever," Tex says, grinning meanly. Church groans.
"Don’t tell me, not Tucker and Kaikaina again—"
"Remember how I said my old buddy York was gonna have his Bachelor party here?" Tex asks. "Remember Wash?"
Church frowns.
"…Why?"
"Let’s put it this way," Tex says. "You remember back when I had to explain to her that ‘enthusiastic consent’ didn’t require her to yell ‘Yes’ at people from across the bar? They all probably would have been better off with that plan."