17. Barhopping

Summary: A normal night in Vegas, with an average club to pollute, right? WRONG! Gaybar.

-

I dooonnnnn't really like this one but uh uh um runs away. Had lots of plans but they didn't work out the way I wanted them to and GAH school is taking a toll on me.

-

-

It was deep into a night filled to the brim with barhopping, stuffing themselves with as many drinks as their decomposing stomachs would allow, before bolting out the door without paying a single penny. The good majority of clubs and bars were familiar with their faces by now, and they wandered the streets in search of another. Too drunk out of their minds to even remember this by tomorrow, they walked along the many establishments in anything but a straight line. Jack, being the most sober out of the two, would repetitively pull Dave away from clubs that already had bouncers looking out for them.

Eventually though, against all odds, they crossed a tinted window. They would barely have been able to tell that it was even a club, if it wasn't for the loud music polluting the streets. Jack tugged Dave by the sleeve of his shirt, making him halt as he peered through an open door. A crowd of people stood inside, dancing and drinking under bright lights. Jack couldn't figure out why the bar was almost hidden from the open, but he couldn't be too concerned with that as he dragged Dave inside with him.

What they had failed to register was the aubergine neon light, hanging on the door. Clubs weren't typically hidden from the public, especially not in Vegas; the city of sin. The only times that really occurred was when the target demographic of it had a reason not to be seen by the general public, when they had a reason to be hidden. Jack's drunken mind couldn't figure out what that was though, scanning the crowd inside.

The small club harbored people of all kinds; eccentric figures in costumes, gentlemen in suits, and a suspiciously large number of men dressed in exclusively leather. They fit right in, Jack thought to himself as he told Dave to pick a booth for them while he arranged drinks. Typically people would be repulsed by him, given he looked like the conscious equivalent of a zombie, but somehow people seemed enthusiastic.

On the way to the bar, someone shook his hand and several people tried dragging him into a crowd of dancing men, which he denied with a genuinely content smile. As he waited for the bartender to serve him, he noted that there were suspiciously little women in the small place. Despite that, though, the crowd was loving and the atmosphere was accepting. It felt nice, watching people put their actual self on display all while others encouraged them. He felt at place, for the first time in a while.

And then it hit Jack. They were in a gay bar, there was no other way. The only women he saw were either with overly feminine men, or actively kissing each other. No other club had quite a variety of self expressions like this, like that of people who had already broken the norm by simply being themselves. It made sense why the establishment seemed so hidden; most of the general population didn't agree with the uprising liberation of queer individuals, and was likely to violate any pubs who had a public display of that.

He found himself in a safe haven for gays, for men who simply wanted to dance with each other without someone eyeing them down. A place of connection, where a repressed community could be seen, could thrive. It endeared him, to the core of his barely functional heart. Jack felt perfectly safe and content in the space, making conversation with the bartender when he came to take his order.

A man, in the middle of his forties, who ran the club with his husband. They wanted to create a hotspot where what was deemed abnormal by most was the norm, where expression was valid and where public displays of affection weren't frowned upon. Jack simply smiled as he spoke, feeling a faint sense of recognition boil within him. His life was much too focused on shutting down Freddy's locations -for better or for worse- for him to pay much mind to his identity, but he somehow wished he could've been more involved in events like these. A desire for connection and community, in a world where he was alone.

"So, have you come here alone?"

The bartender suddenly asked him, pouring their drinks. He'd already known by the two glasses Jack ordered, but he was too far gone to put two and two together. Instead, he raised to straighten his posture rather than lean his arms on the bar. The wave of dizziness that hit him almost threw him to the floor, but he managed to stay upright as he looked over his shoulder. Dave was sitting in a small booth, not far from the dancefloor, leaning his chin on a hand. He looked tired, alcohol enhanced sleepiness, Jack guessed.

"Nah, nah- I'm with purps', over there-!"

He pointed a thumb over his shoulder towards Dave, although it wasn't hard for the bartender to spot a brightly purple coloured individual. Continuing to work on their drinks, some sort of cocktail with a funny name, he proceeded to inquire Jack:

"That your boyfriend?"

At that, Jack hesitantly looked over his shoulder again. He gazed towards Dave, still unaware he was sitting in a gay club rather than a regular one. Jack felt dubious he would even mind, that his drunken mind even possessed such a capability to do so.

"Eh-"

He gave a non-conforming sound with a shrug of his shoulders. They weren't boyfriends, Jack cringed at the usage of that word alone, but Dave had said that this was their 'Vegas honeymoon'

"Not sure. But yeah the drink's- 's for him-"

In his head, he sounded far more sober than he did in reality. He didn't want to say no entirely, not only because Dave made him doubt that sometimes, but because he wanted to connect with this stranger across the bar.

"Complicated?"

He asked Jack, who quickly nodded before adding:

"Hah! Yeah, I mean- What'dya call someone who breaks into yer' house regularly to watch you sleep?"

He laughed, although the bartender seemed a tad worried as he poured their drinks:

"Don't know, but you ought to have a talk about that."

He gave in response, and Jack grumbled while being handed their glasses. Those were concerns for his sober self, such puzzling things didn't process well in his drunken state. Rounding off his conversation with the bartender, he thanked him and took their glasses. The short walk back was bliss, flashing lights clouding his vision and people letting him through with a cheer. The room contorted before him, stretching out indefinitely with Dave as its center point. He just had to reach Dave, he kept quietly whispering to himself as he put deep thought behind every step. He just needed to reach Dave, breathe, reach Dave, breathe, reach-

"Sportsy!"

He greeted him enthusiastically, as Jack absentmindedly put the glasses down with a shaky hand. Gratefully but not gracefully, he plopped down in the booth beside Dave. The effort of walking through the streets, holding conversation and then walking to their table, had thoroughly exhausted him. He rested his head on Dave's shoulder, his vision swimming. The prior conversation seemed to vanish in a section of his brain that was already blacked out, and only the content feeling from before remained

"You 'ight, old sport?"

Dave asked, seemingly alarmed by his change in nature. Jack huffed as if it took him a great effort to do so, wanting to harbor the feeling of content. Still, he tore himself from Dave's side and took a glass in hand, holding it between them. Dave raised his too, clinking them against each other.

"Cheers! To 'nother night!"

Jack spoke in substitute of answering Dave's question, and Dave simply smiled in turn.

"Cheers sportsy-!"

He liked seeing Jack happy, filled with enthusiasm induced by a drunken mind. He never seemed that way at work, or even during the day, so Dave cherished every moment he could. Both took a rich sip of their drink, surprised at the strong bitter taste. With a laugh, he lay an arm over Jack's shoulders and stared ahead of him. The only reason Jack allowed the gesture was because it gave him a better angle in leaning against Dave, which always became more appealing when he was stupid-drunk.

It was now that Dave, too, began taking account of his surroundings. The crowd sprawled out before their booth wasn't exactly average in comparison to the clubs they visited prior, he just couldn't quite put his finger on the reason why. He looked towards Jack sipping from his drink with closed eyes as to enjoy himself to the fullest. He briefly considered that it didn't matter when Jack was happy, before noting something across the room.

"Old sport-"

He poked Jack's side, disturbing him from chugging his drink. Giving Dave a look, he waited for him to continue but instead he pointed to their side. Jack looked past him, struggling to focus his vision before two men excessively kissing came into view. The conversation with the bartender came rushing back to him, and he was briefly annoyed with Dave before realizing he'd forgotten to mention a minor detail:

"Oh, yeah- 'S a gay club."

He sulked back against Dave, unfazed.

"What."

"What?"

He shot Dave's question back to him, both with an equally clueless expression. Dave shrugged his shoulders, not recognising his own issue with it for a hot second. Then, he spoke with an accusing tone:

"Well, how are we supposed to find ourselves a smokin' hot babe for tonight, old sport?!"

The copious amounts of alcohol only enhanced his emotions as anger laced his voice, pulling Jack out of his daze as well:

"Hey, at least they're servin' us! Besides, would it hurt to expand your horizons every once in a while?!"

He sneered back at Dave, clutching his near empty glass. It was always like this; heightened emotions that shifted quickly caused tension, disrupted by even a wrong glance from one of them. Today it was Dave who destroyed their ethereal high, looking at Jack with a hint of disgust. It wasn't that he was particularly opposed to men beyond a platonic measure, it was just that his drunken routine was disturbed.

"Old sport, you can't seriously be suggesting that I- That we-!"

He had hardly an idea of how that would even work, who would even adopt which role. Feeling rushed with a wave of anger and nausea coursing through him, Jack stood up from their booth with unsteady feet.

"Oh, you're free to do whatever the fuck you want alright, but I'm gonna make do with what I've got!"

He exclaimed towards Dave, slamming his fist on the table before promptly walking off. Much less positively dazed than before, he watched Jack's figure intertwine with the crowd. He simply sipped his drink, because no matter how agitated he was; he wouldn't abandon Jack. Hell, he would hardly consider such a thing even if they did fight. Jack; his partner on every conceivable level, currently making rushed conversation with an estranged man.

It was an odd thing to watch, but he simply couldn't tear his eyes away. He downed his glass in the hopes of watering his own thoughts down, but Jack just made it into his line of vision time and time again. A stranger took him by the hand, pulling him into the dancing crowd with a smooth motion. In a search for distraction, he headed to the bar to order another drink which he chugged immediately upon receiving it.

The taste polluted him, made his legs feel weak and his head spin as if it was a boat being toyed with by a relentless sea. With every step it simply reinforced himself, that feeling that he couldn't get rid off no matter how hard he tried. The lights seemed just a tad brighter, the music more joyful and everything was beautiful for a split second. It was a feeling he wanted to drown in for as long as he could; forget about the worries of an average life and the feelings which he desperately tried to suppress.

He experienced that everytime he looked at Jack. Even now, as he danced with another, he felt his entire body succumb with it. When he smiled there was no world outside of their own, so much so that it made his body feel weightless. He didn't know what direction to take it, stumbling over his own feet as he searched for something to ground him. It was all so confusing, it made him spin along with the room, perfectly aligned yet traveling entirely opposite ways.

Bile threatened to boil up from whatever was left of Dave's stomach, grasping a table and sitting himself on a stray chair. It made his breathing heavy, his head filled with conflicting emotions that all told him something different. A loving feeling which made him pleasantly sick in the stomach, threatening to overflow as he swallowed back with a gag. An introspective feeling of love, threatening to expose itself through jealousy. He shouldn't have downed that glass in one go, he thought to himself as he glanced over his shoulder.

He'd never been jealous when Jack hooked up with women; their motel room was a hotspot for hookers and it wasn't uncommon for either of them to demand the other to leave in the name of one on one time. But here he was, cursing under his breath as he watched another man take Jack's hands in his. Maybe it was because he was intoxicated, because of that feeling that simply wouldn't leave when he wanted it to. He'd done it to himself, allowed himself to enter this state, and yet he was mad at the world.

Mad at the world, because his intoxication was something confined to only himself. Words were never his thing and surely wouldn't embody it; he had only his experience to go by. The experience of being in love, one of the most beautiful things to exist, yet incredibly ugly when it led to jealousy. He wanted to be vulnerable, dance with Jack in a way that existed outside of their norm, but he couldn't expose himself like that again. After all, when he was vulnerable in the past he only found himself getting hurt.

It made him feel all sorts of things; it could make the room spin and the world tremble under his feet, but it could make him feel love that surpassed that of anything he had before. He was drunk of the feeling alone, hardly noticing that he choked back a sob. Everything was so overwhelming and he found himself biting on his knuckles to both suppress a cry and a wave of vomit, refusing to look back towards Jack.

There was always the option to drink more; to succumb to that loving feeling, knowing that it'd only worsen him. It was somehow worse when he was alone, when he had no way to dispel it through a discreet outlet. The countless hookers that flowed in and out of their room were never competition to him, but this faceless man was. He was more similar to Dave, as far as someone even could be; he was a man too. And that filled him with dedication, an irrational instinct that pushed the rest of his intoxication away.

If any man got to dance with Jack, it should've been him. He'd been here far longer than whatever stranger simply happened to catch him on a drunken bender; he'd give his kidney to Jack, if he would've had one. It was his own stupid reaction which had gotten him in this place to begin with, and it'd be that same reckless behavior that would put an end to it. With unsteady feet he headed for the crowd of dancing people, eyes fixed on Jack.

He could've hallucinated it at this point, most definitely, but he swore he saw the man lean in before he yanked him by the collar. He startled back a few steps, all the while Jack simply looked ahead of him with that same intoxicated look in his eyes. Dave hadn't thought very far ahead seeing as he was fueled by jealousy, and took an apprehensive step away from the stranger he'd angered. It was of no use though, as a hand fisted his shirt roughly.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing-?!"

The man Jack'd previously danced with spat, his voice heavy and his grip strong. Dave's alcohol induced mind could only produce a fearful whimper, shooting a quick glance towards Jack. He let out a dumbfounded laugh; going from fighting over men to having men fight over him, quite the twist. Deciding he valued Dave over the stranger though, he intervened:

"Hey, hey- Can't we all just, get along?"

The drunken giggle in his sentence betrayed that he took this anything but seriously, and it only seemed to anger the man more:

"What? You know this fucker or something-?!"

"Yeah, he does! You tell 'em sportsy-!"

It was Dave's turn to interrupt, overly confident for someone who still had a hand gripping his shirt. He could see the confusion on the stranger's face, eyes flicking between him and Jack.

"Yeah, I do- We're on a honeymoon, as he calls it-!"

He gestured towards Dave, and that was how he knew for certain Jack was beyond drunk; he'd never refer to this as a honeymoon when sober. The man did not have full context behind their inside joke of sorts, and his anger briefly shifted to confusion before re-establishing itself.

"Could've mentioned your boyfriend before I bought us drinks!"

He spat, directed towards Jack this time around. What followed next happened quickly; in a swift motion, he shoved Dave against Jack, who he barely managed to catch him. By the time both regained their balance, the man had already walked off.

"Well, thanks for that."

Jack spoke sarcastically but couldn't suppress a small smile, amused by Dave's open display of jealousy. Immediately upon seeing Jack's smile, he was filled with intoxication again. That relieving feeling that returned no matter what, where he could escape to when the world became too much. It made him weak in the knees, and sometimes he suspected Jack knew exactly how that felt.

"Old sport, were you actually gonna- With that guy?"

Dave asked, unable to help his curiosity. A slow song began playing through the club, and a brief sound of awe sounded from the crowd. People began pairing up with a partner, smoothly moving together around them.

"Yeah, mostly just to spite you, though."

He reached for one of Dave's hands, intertwining their fingers as he guided them further into the dancing crowd. It took Dave by surprise, the dizzying feeling he received upon moving his feet, standing eye to eye with Jack. Before he truly realized it, his other hand found Jack's as well and he pulled them flush together. That damned feeling, it threw him to the floor only to raise him high among the stars again, made his body cold just so the heat that rose to his face would feel warmer upon appearing again.

"Oh come on old sport, you'd seriously hook up with a guy just to spite good ol' me?"

He was somewhat dumbfounded, trying his best to withhold what threatened to boil up within him. One of Jack's hands let loose of Dave's, instead finding a way around his waist as he guided them into half-decent dance steps. They weren't usually able to do this; someone would most definitely have yelled a slur at them. And just then, Dave too began to be fond of gay clubs.

"I swing both ways."

Jack replied, casually. It swooped him from his feet, threw him around like a ragdoll victimized by its surroundings, and Jack just barely managed to catch him as he tripped over his own feet. A tad bewildered, he recovered himself and followed Jack's pace.

"Oh."

It was the only honest response that he could think of in the given moment, focusing on where his feet were going rather than Jack's face. He'd always had somewhat of a suspicion, but never any substantial evidence to advocate for it. It wasn't a negative response though, simply surprise, and Jack recognised that:

"And what about you?"

That was a whole bunch of self discovery that drunk Dave was not yet ready to do, mouth falling open but failing to convey words.

"What about me...?"

He ended up with a clueless tone, succumbing to that feeling of intoxication again.

"Well, you don't seem opposed to this."

Jack spoke, his voice just a little lower than before to be noticeable. Dave glanced down, where their bodies stood flush with every movement, where Jack gently held his waist. He didn't know, couldn't figure out why he felt like this every time he even so much looked at Jack. He liked him, not for what was in his pants but for what was in his mind, which clashed with everything the general public enforced on him.

"I- I'm not, I just-"

He faltered, a crack in his fabrication and typical demeanor. Jack simply kept dancing, the song seemed to go on forever just for them. That intoxicating feeling; he ought to call it by what it really was, that loving feeling.

"I don't know old sport- Can I just, not know-?"

It spun him around, made him dizzy with emotion. Nights filled with jokes that took a flirtatious turn when accompanied with enough alcohol, jokes that now seemed to have more serious undertones.

"Sure you can- But it's never too late to figure it out, y'know? There's still time."

And suddenly, he was perfectly grounded in his dizziness. The room moved along them, music that shifted into a more enthusiastic tone as bodies moved with it. And yet, despite the noise and the movement; they stood perfectly frozen in the moment. Jack looked at him, saw through him like he always did, and he returned the gaze.

"Really?"

Jack laughed, softly and in a comforting manner that only re-established their solitude in a rapidly moving mass. Even through the music change and the faceless people, their hands stayed intertwined and Jack's hand never moved from his back.

"Really!"

Jack assured him, and he believed it to be true. With Jack, it felt like anything was possible, like they'd be happy together forever. With Jack, he felt that intoxicating feeling of love constantly. He simply laughed, studying Jack's face all the while they remained amidst the dancing crowd. In their own world, in complete solitude yet perfectly happy, like they would be until the end.

-

-

[3871 words]

Aren't they just a bundle of sticks?

Can you tell I got lazy with the ending? Yeah. I finally got an idea for that thing with Henry I been yapping about since forever and my hands ache to start writing on that. GAH.