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There was something to be said about the youth of today. Namely the fact that they could go to a club and listen to the bass so loudly it made the whole building shake, and yet they still didn’t feel compelled to leave.
The intensity of it was making weird things happen in Eren Jaeger’s chest, like his heart was feeling the need to beat at the same speed as the music’s, which was probably a bad thing since they were currently playing techno and he was fairly certain hearts should not beat that quickly.
In fact, he was fairly certain that any hearts attempting to beat as quickly as the bass of the techno currently playing would result in a very unfortunate and painful demise.
Not to mention he was fairly certain he was now going to have to live the rest of his life knowing that his poor life choices were the reason for his loss of hearing and inability to ever get drunk again. He was on his fourth beer in just over an hour and he barely even felt a buzz.
Clearly he was drinking too much if he was building up a tolerance this good. That or they were watering down the beer, but considering it was in a bottle that he had seen the bartender uncap, that seemed unlikely.
Taking another sip of his drink and bobbing his head to the music, he watched his friend out on the dancefloor attempting to score with someone way out of his league. He had to hand it to him, though, Jean Kirschstein wasn’t a man known to give up. He would suffer humiliating defeat long before admitting it.
It was almost sad in some ways, but in others, Eren found it somewhat endearing. Poor guy couldn’t catch a break. At least he was pretty.
Maybe Eren could train him to be mute or something. People tended to like him until he opened his mouth. It was usually then that everything went to shit for him. At this rate, Jean was going to die sad and alone, and if he did, Eren wouldn’t hear the end of it. If he died before Jean, his friend would come to his grave daily and Eren’s ghost would have to sit and listen to him bitch and moan over how very sad and alone he was.
Not something Eren wanted to think about, which was why he was attempting to be a good wingman. It was hard to be a good wingman, though, when the man he was winging kept fucking off without a word to hit on people out of his league.
He’d already gotten turned down by four girls and two guys. His new conquest seemed to be fairly unimpressed with his bad pickup lines and lame jokes, but he kept smiling anyway, occasionally giving Jean a once over. Maybe this guy would be willing to look past Jean’s stupidity and give him a chance.
Eren could only hope.
He turned back to the bar, setting his empty bottle down and waving at one of the bartenders. He had to lean over the counter and scream in the man’s ear to ask for another one, but he got the message across and slapped a twenty into the man’s hand. He sauntered away to get his drink while Eren scratched at his face. When he brought his hand down, he let out a sigh when he saw the red wax on his fingers, realizing he had just smudged the mark on his face.
The bartender noticed as well, because when he returned with the drink and the change, he motioned Eren closer and the brunet leaned forward on the bar. The other man wiped almost gently at his cheek with a wet-wipe, removing the lipstick-like wax from his cheek and pulling out a red marker made of the same substance.
He screamed a confirmation over to music to Eren, who nodded before the man leaned forward and drew a large “B” on his cheek.
Nodding a thanks, Eren shoved a five-dollar bill into the tip jar by his elbow, took his beer, and headed back out to one of the tables on the edge of the dancefloor so he could watch Jean continue to fail epically.
By the time he reached an empty seat, he was actually surprised to find Jean still chatting it up with the same guy he had been when Eren had gone to get another drink.
He was cute, he supposed. Not Eren’s type, but he had this adorable little smile, and freckles, and a good build. Right up Jean’s alley, but not so much Eren’s. He was more particular with his type, meaning he usually didn’t have one until someone of interest came along.
Eren reached up and almost scratched his cheek again before catching himself. He didn’t want to have one of the waitresses or bartenders fix it for likely the eighth time tonight, but it was hard to remember it was there.
The club was called Titans, and it was one of the more unique clubs in the general lower mainland area of Shiganshina. It was popular for its late hours, theme nights, and most importantly: full exposure.
Anyone wanting to enter the club was required to be branded with the lipstick-like wax on their face with a clear indicator of their sexuality or their status. It had caused an uproar when it had first opened and this rule had become known, but for the LGBTQ community as a whole, it seemed like a good deal. It let people come to a club without having to worry about eying a cute guy across the room only to find out they were the straight friend who’d come along with their gay friend to the gay bar.
In Titans, everyone knew exactly where they stood with anyone else in the club. They knew if someone was going to be rejecting their advances due to sexuality, or status long before even walking over to them. While having someone be single and within their range didn’t guarantee their advances would be appreciated—see Jean Kirschstein—it at least opened the door to more possibilities.
And it was actually really nice sometimes to walk in and see people mingling and having a good time without the prejudices of the world. Shiganshina in general was pretty tolerant, but the club seemed to force it moreso. It was very clear with its rules: don’t like, don’t come.
Eren had his days where he found it to be discriminating, but other days he actually really liked it. It was a fine line for him, and he was sure he wasn’t the only one. Mostly, he tried to ignore it and just have a good time.
Easier said than done when he was always the wingman for Jean. Not that he usually saw anyone of interest who had a letter he could go after.
There were the basics for sexual orientation: “G” for gay, “B” for bi-sexual, “A” for asexual and “S” for straight. Then there were the statuses: “T” for taken, meaning people could talk to them but not hit on them. “DD” for designated driver, meaning again, people could talk to them but shouldn’t hit on them because they were there with the intention of watching their friends. And lastly, “GT” for good time, meaning they were there to dance and not to get hit on. Someone sporting a GT wasn’t allowed to hit on others as a general rule because the idea of it was that they legitimately didn’t want to be bothered, so in exchange, they couldn’t bother others either. Very few GTs came in except if they were around for a party or a group of girls out for some drinks and dancing.
Eren felt like he rarely ever saw any GTs anymore, most people were smart enough to know that a brand like that meant a really boring night, for the most part.
Anyone with a sexual orientation meant they were single, and therefore fair game. Jean had a large blue “B” on his cheek, and the guy he was still—miraculously!—chatting with had a “G.”
Maybe Jean would actually get lucky, for once. Not that Eren treated the club as a place to get laid, but not everyone was like him.
Sighing to himself and taking another sip of his beer, finishing off the last of it much faster than he was sure was wise, he turned to set it down on the table behind him and immediately felt a hand on the back of his neck, slamming him face-first onto the hard surface.
Panic instantly flared up in his chest and he was seconds away from having a major meltdown when he felt lips brush against his ear.
“Just go with it, and I’ll buy you dinner.”
What?
He could hear the guy shouting that he was under arrest, pulling his hands behind his back tightly and slapping handcuffs onto his wrists. He blinked stupidly at the far wall, cheek still pressed against the table, and then suddenly was being hauled up and shoved roughly towards the door.
People were moving aside for them when the man behind him barked for them to make way, shouting to be heard over the music, and still barely managing that.
Eren was shoved towards the door, stumbling slightly. The man grabbed at his arm to keep him on his feet and the two of them walked through the dark corridor that led to the exit. When they pushed through it, the bouncer gave them a startled look, but said nothing while the man pushed Eren along towards the side of the building.
“Around the corner, then I’ll let you go.”
Eren wasn’t sure he trusted this. What if he got around the corner, out of sight, and he was thrown into a van and driven off to become the next fresh piece of meat in a sex trafficking ring?! He was too young and pretty to be a sex slave, it wasn’t a good look for him! He still had some baby fat in his face, despite being twenty-three!
Before he could finish panicking about being used and abused, they were around the corner of the club and the man stopped, immediately fiddling with the cuffs around Eren’s wrists. When they came free, the brunet let out a slow sigh of relief, bringing them forward and rubbing at his left wrist, the skin tender.
“Sorry about that, it couldn’t be helped.”
Turning to face his would-be abductor, he was in fact surprised to see a man who couldn’t have been older than thirty and was barely five foot two. He was wearing nice clothes, considering he’d just exited a club of horny, writhing bodies of mostly young adults, but that didn’t seem to bother him. His black suit jacket was pushed back so he could replace the cuffs somewhere near the base of his spine, and he straightened the collar of his grey button-down shirt before actually looking at Eren.
His eyes were the most startlingly shade of blue Eren had ever seen, and for a moment, he just kind of stood there staring at him while the man slowly pulled his hand back from having returned the handcuffs where they belonged. He eyed Eren like he wasn’t sure why he was staring.
Eren knew why he was staring.
He was staring because, despite not having a type, this guy was totally his fucking type!
When his eyes shot to the man’s cheek, he was somewhat disappointed to see the letters “DD” on his face, meaning he had absolutely no idea if he was taken or even interested in men.
“Are you okay?” the man asked slowly with a small frown. “I didn’t slam you down that hard.”
“What? Ah, no, you didn’t, I’m fine.” Eren rubbed the back of his head with a small, awkward laugh. “Totally good. Um, what uh, exactly just happened?”
The man looked like he wasn’t going to explain, but then he let out a small puff of air and said, “I was being hit on persistently by this guy who smelled like he shit his pants. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I told him I was an undercover cop. He still wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I decided to arrest someone and get out.”
“Oh.” A beat. “Are you an undercover cop?”
“No.” He gave Eren a look like he was an idiot. “Undercover cops wouldn’t have handcuffs on them. Civilian-clothed cops would.”
“So are you a civilian-clothed cop?”
“No.”
Eren waited for him to elaborate, but when he didn’t, he asked, “So, the handcuffs?”
“They’re bondage cuffs. You could’ve gotten out of them yourself if you knew where the latch was.”
Eren had officially been touched by bondage gear. This was a moment for the history books, considering everyone insisted he was going to have a boring sex life since he wasn’t interested in thing like pain and orgasm denial, you know, like a normal person.
“Where do you wanna eat?”
“What?” Eren asked, wondering suddenly if he was being asked out on a date, heart thudding incredibly hard in his chest at the idea.
“Your compensation,” the man said, waving an impatient hand. “For letting me manhandle you out of the club.”
“Oh.” He felt stupid now. And depressed. “Uh, no, that’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I needed the fresh air anyway.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking slightly on his feet before nodding once and moving around him. “See you around. Hope your night gets better.”
He heard the man give a brief, annoyed sound, like Eren’s comment had irked him, but the brunet didn’t let that bother him. He was just trying to be polite, no need to be rude about it.
Moving back towards the door, he nodded to the bouncer, who was giving him a really weird look, and then headed back inside.
An hour later, and he was bored watching Jean and his new beau make out, so he yelled into his ear over the music, telling him he was going home, and left the club.
That night, he dreamed of a man with short dark hair, blue eyes, and a strong jaw.
Eren wasn’t particularly interested in joining Jean when the other dragged him back to Titans a week later so he could meet his beau—apparently his name was Marco. Eren’s reluctance mainly stemmed from being a horny, single bisexual man who was having recurring dreams of a hot, smartly dressed man with handcuffs.
Needless to say, it was pretty awkward when he’d barely even spoken to the guy for five minutes, and he’d gone home having dreams about him. Then again, Eren did that all the time with famous actors and singers, but that seemed a little more normal. It was almost expected, really, for someone to have fantasies about famous people.
But this? Even Eren could tell this was weird. He didn’t usually have vivid dreams about sexy older men in dark suits, handcuffing him to a bed and having their dirty way with him. It was uncomfortable, and weird, and made him feel like he was violating the poor guy.
All he could do was hope he didn’t run into him again, because he didn’t need more fodder for his messed up brain. He felt dirty enough.
Walking up to the bouncer and showing him his ID, he turned his head slightly to allow the girl near the front to put a large “B” on his cheek after confirming his status before he walked into the club behind Jean. His friend was chomping at the bit to rush into the throng of people and find his one true love, but Eren just calmly followed behind him with a sigh, the music already pounding through his chest and making his ears hurt. When he walked into the main part of the club, the lights and laser show going on assaulted his eyes and he was momentarily blinded. It took a few seconds for his vision to adjust so he could make his way to the bar. He nodded to the bartender while fishing cash out of his pocket. Leaning over the bar, he yelled his order in the other’s ear and slapped a ten into his hand.
Turning to find Jean in the crowd, he caught sight of him near the edge of the dancefloor, sitting at a table with the same freckled guy from the last time they’d been there. They were leaning close together, evidently yelling at one another to be heard over the music. Marco laughed at something Jean said and shoved his face away with one hand, but he looked happy.
Jean did, too.
Eren really hoped this one worked out for him, they’d been texting non-stop since the previous weekend, and Marco seemed nice.
And patient. So, so patient. Anyone who could handle bad pickup line after bad pickup line without murdering Jean was made of saint material. But it seemed to be working out for him, so Eren just tried to be happy about it instead of annoyed he’d gotten dragged down there again to be bored.
He felt a poke in the back and turned, seeing the bartender holding out a beer and his change. He took both and then frowned when he saw the bill he’d been handed back. He motioned the bartender closer and screamed over the music at him.
“I gave you a ten, not a twenty. You gave it right back to me.” He waved the ten dollar bill at him.
The bartender shook his head. “Drink’s been paid for.”
“Paid for? By who?”
His answer was a shrug, the man avoiding his gaze and wandering away to serve another patron. Eren stared after him, confused, then looked around to see if he could figure out who’d bought him a free drink. No one was really looking at him suggestively, though a few were looking at him with interest.
Shrugging to himself, he took a sip of his drink and shoved the bill into his pocket, moving to find an empty seat at the edge of the dancefloor so he could watch Jean be a total loser with his new boyfriend-to-be, provided things went well.
So far so good, as far as he could tell. He kept looking around while bobbing his head to the music, hoping for a hint of who’d purchased his drink, but no one really jumped out at him. He didn’t let it bother him, sipping at it and contemplating going to find someone to dance with. He figured he’d do that once his beer was finished but before he got that far, a familiar someone was pushing through the crowd, heading towards him quickly, like a man on a mission.
He moved right up into Eren’s personal space, pressing his lips against his ear. It made an unintentional shiver race down Eren’s spine.
“I need you to act like I just said something really important, down the rest of your drink, and follow me outside.”
Eren wanted to sigh, but at least he’d get to spend some time with the hot mystery man. Maybe he’d even get a name out of him this time.
When the man stepped out of his personal space, Eren hastily began downing his beer while standing, half-inching away from the table while doing so until it was empty and he set it down. Turning while wiping the back of his hand across his lips, he hurried to follow after the shorter man, squeezing between writhing bodies and a little disgusted when an overzealous individual leaned over to lick his face when he walked by. Thankfully for them, it had been on his blank cheek and not on the one sporting the large “B.”
He had to jog a little when he reached the corridor leading to the exit. The shorter man might have been vertically impaired, but he was an extremely fast walker.
They pushed through the exit door together, the bouncer nodding at them and giving Eren another weird look that he ignored. The shorter man headed for the side of the building once more and, despite Eren’s better judgement, he followed. Once they were around the corner, the other man stopped and turned to him.
“Someone hitting on you again?” Eren asked with a small smile. The other’s scowl was answer enough. “Why don’t you just get a ‘T’ put on your cheek?”
“Because that would be a lie,” the other said grumpily. Eren noticed he was sporting the “DD” again, meaning this guy really couldn’t catch a break with being the designated driver.
“What was the story tonight?”
“Still undercover, but I decided to make you a partner instead of someone to abuse.”
“My face appreciates that,” Eren said with a grin, shoving his hands in his pockets. “What do you actually do?”
We received no response to that. Shit, was he a mob boss or something? Eren didn’t need to be pissing off mob bosses.
“Uh, can I at least get your name if I’m going to continue to be your out?” Eren asked.
“Levi.”
He nodded. “Eren.”
“I owe you another dinner,” the man groused. “Where would you like to go?”
“Nah, it’s cool.” Eren shrugged, hands still shoved deep in his pockets and motioning one elbow towards the door. “I’m here with my buddy, I shouldn’t leave without him. He has abandonment issues.”
“I see.” He scowled, and given how grumpy he always was, Eren could only assume he didn’t like owing people.
“Sorry you keep getting hit on.” Eren moved past him. “I hope you have a good night.”
“Yeah.”
Eren made his way back into the club, the bouncer raising his gaze to the sky, as if saying a silent prayer when he walked past him. The brunet had no idea what that was about and just headed back inside, finding Jean quickly in the sea of bodies and moving to sit near the edge of the dancefloor again.
In retrospect, he realized he probably should’ve just gone with the man—Levi—to get some food. They’d have had more of an opportunity to talk, but he didn’t seem like he was particularly pleased with having to take Eren out so as much as it pained him to refuse, he couldn’t in good conscience force him to be social if he didn’t want to be.
After ten minutes of watching Jean dance with his new beau, Eren turned to head for the bar, moving towards the same bartender as when he’d first arrived. The man took one look at him, then disappeared. When he returned, he held out a beer to Eren, who started to dig into his pocket for money when the man shook his head, thrust the beer into his hand, and walked away.
Eren stared at the bottle, confused and a little weirded out
What the fuck was going on?
Every time Eren was dragged to the club with Jean, he always ended up with free drinks, and some form of “get me out of this place” encounter with Levi. Every time he saw him, it made his stomach do happy little flips, and he always tried to prolong their conversations outside around the side of the building as much as possible.
It sucked because Levi always cut him off with his usual gruff and annoyed invitation to dinner to repay him, and Eren kept deflating over realizing that he was just annoying him the more he forced him to stand outside and talk about things.
The next time Jean asked him to go to the club, Eren ended up turning him down. Jean was doing perfectly fine on his own with his new boyfriend—not that they were official, but they may as well be—and Eren didn’t feel like being the bored third wheel.
So he stayed home to play video games, then jerked off in the shower thinking about Levi before going to bed.
He was reading a book on his phone when the words were interrupted by a neighing horse sound, a picture of Jean appearing on his screen. Sighing, he answered the call and put the phone to his ear.
“Break up already? You really can’t do anything without me.”
“Dude, you need to get down here right now! Like, immediately!”
Eren frowned. “What? Why?”
“Eren, for the love of God, stop reading your trashy romance novels and get down here, now!”
Then he hung up.
Eren stared at his phone, confused, then debated ignoring him before his curiosity got the best of him and he sighed. Throwing his covers off himself, he climbed out of bed and hunted through his closet for some decent clothes. He hadn’t done laundry for a while, and since he hadn’t been planning on going out tonight, he hadn’t made a point to check for a good shirt the day before.
Finding something half-adequate, he yanked it on over his head, pulled on some jeans, and got himself organized to leave the house.
He contemplated driving to the club, but figured if he had to stay, he’d want to drink and he didn’t like leaving his car places overnight. Opting for a cab over the bus, especially since Jean wouldn’t stop texting him to hurry up, Eren made it to the club within fifteen minutes, which was rather astonishing considering usually there was more traffic.
Stepping out, he paid the driver and saw Jean dancing on the spot outside the club doors. He raced over when he caught sight of him.
“Dude! What the fuck! How could you keep this from me?!”
“I—what?”
“Come on, hurry up!” Jean grabbed his arm and yanked him forcefully towards the entrance, shoving him at the bouncer. The man just waved him towards the girl standing by the door, who was grinning from ear to ear before leaning forward to draw on his face—which was weird, because he hadn’t told her what letter he needed.
It was even weirder because he distinctly recognized the letter being drawn on his face was not a “B,” but rather a “T.”
“Wait, I’m not—” He didn’t get a chance to finish because Jean was shoving him down the corridor while Eren sputtered and tried to insist he wasn’t taken.
When he was shoved into the heart of the club, he was once again assaulted with flashing lights and pounding bass, watching all the bodies writhing and moving against one another. He let Jean manhandle him towards the edge of the dancefloor, shoving and jostling him in a rather annoying fashion.
“What the fuck is going on?” he demanded, beginning to lose his patience.
“You didn’t tell me you were pseudo-seeing the club owner, you dickwad!”
“What?” Eren asked, horrendously confused. “I’m not pseudo-seeing anyone, what the fuck are you—”
Levi was standing beside Marco.
Levi and Marco were standing together at one of the tables, leaning close to one another, shouting to be heard over the music.
Levi was standing with Jean’s new boyfriend, talking to him, wearing his usual suit and holding a bottle of beer in one hand.
Levi turned to look at him when they approached, and for the first time since he’d met him, he had something on his face other than “DD.”
It currently said “T.”
Eren’s face currently also said “T.”
He suddenly understood why the bartender was giving him free drinks and the bouncer kept giving them odd looks when they left the club together.
“Wait, he’s the owner?!” Eren demanded, turning his head to look at Jean.
“Yes! And he’s pissed as shit because apparently you keep turning him down when he asks you out to dinner, like a fucktard! All you ever wanna do is go around the side of the building and have a chat. What the hell is wrong with you?!”
Wait. Wait!
So all those times Eren had turned him down because he hadn’t wanted to impose, Levi had actually been asking him out?! Why hadn’t he made that clearer?! How the fuck was Eren supposed to know his anger was because he kept unintentionally turning him down?!
When they reached the table, Eren didn’t know what to do with himself. He just kind of stood there awkwardly and stared at Levi. The man looked him up and down, took a sip of his drink, then set the bottle on the table. He nodded towards the side and turned to walk away. Jean shoved Eren after him before he’d even fully decided whether or not he wanted to follow. He turned to glare at his friend, rubbing his hands together awkwardly and following behind Levi.
The shorter man headed for the back of the club, pushing aside a curtain Eren had always assumed was for decoration since there were many in various places throughout the club. Behind this particular curtain was a door. Levi punched in a code, then pushed it open and headed up a flight of stairs. Eren hesitated before following, shutting the door behind him and climbing the steps. At the top was another door that opened into a small office.
Once he stepped inside and shut that door, he realized that it was remarkably quiet. The entire room was probably soundproof, though the club seemed to be, as well, so maybe it was just double soundproof?
Levi fell into his seat behind the large desk with an annoyed sigh. Eren just shuffled forward, hands in his pockets, and noticed the screens along the far wall. They flickered continuously between different cameras throughout the club and along its perimeter, and Eren couldn’t help but wonder if Levi had been watching him on them.
“I have been told numerous times I am bad in social settings,” Levi grunted, making Eren turn back to him. The older man was watching the screens instead of Eren. “I’ve had an interest for a while, and when I decided I wanted to try speaking to you that first night, I kept getting hit on. I turned that into an opportunity, using the excuse of needing to leave the building as a way to get you to come with me. When you said no to dinner, I thought maybe you’d had too much to drink and didn’t want to leave your friend without letting him know where you were going. But then every time I saw you, you turned me down.” He scowled, evidently annoyed. “I was going to give up until Mike said he overheard your friend talking to his boyfriend about how you wouldn’t stop bitching and whining about the hot guy from the club that always dragged you outside. It occurred to me that I might not have been as transparent as I thought I was. The staff here often remind me that I am not very good with words.”
Eren licked his lips, wincing slightly and feeling embarrassed that Jean had been talking about his obsession in front of one of the man’s employees, Jesus Christ.
“I’ve been told I’m a little slow,” he admitted hesitantly. “I didn’t—I thought you were asking me to dinner as thanks for helping you out, but you always looked grumpy when you asked, so I figured you didn’t really want to go to dinner, you just felt obligated.”
Levi looked at him then. “Guess we’re both morons. Comforting.”
Eren laughed a little, shifting his weight awkwardly.
“In light of this newfound revelation,” Levi turned his chair so he was facing him now, leaning forward on the desk, hands folded together, “would you like to go have dinner with me?”
This was seriously weird, because Eren had jerked off to him literally half an hour ago and now he was being asked to dinner. Legitimately being asked to dinner. What the fuck.
“Depends.”
“On?” Levi asked, looking murderous. Eren suspected he was feeling vulnerable and didn’t handle it well. The thought of Eren rejecting him probably wasn’t helping.
“Are you bringing those handcuffs?” Eren grinned. “Should probably save those for our second date.”
Levi’s expression shifted and a little smirk formed at the corners of his lips. “Careful, or there won’t be a second date because I’ll never let the first one end.”
“You’re kind of creepy, you know that, right?”
“You’re the one who agreed to dinner.”
“I like food.” Eren shrugged. “Free food. With a hot guy who looks like an FBI agent. You’re not an FBI agent, are you?”
“Shut up and let’s go.” Levi pulled a suit jacket on, doing up one of the buttons and motioning for Eren to exit the office.
The brunet complied, turning to head back out of the office, down the stairs and into the club.
Though the “T” on his cheek wasn’t necessarily true yet, he couldn’t help but think about how satisfying it would be once it was. So far, he didn’t know much about Levi, but he at least knew enough about him to know he liked him.
And Eren was nothing if not open-minded, even if Levi was awkward enough that he had to fake-arrest someone to ask them out on a date.
END.