#dreamsstart

location: a bar of your choice

it was raining. alaric hated when it rained, because it meant that their hair ( carefully constructed on top of his head to practically defy gravity ) and makeup ( dark eyeliner on a thickly applied glittery base ) were about to undergo dangerous territory. whipping out his black umbrella straight out of the cab, alaric hurried inside the busy bar, his eyes scanning the dimly lit room for a familiar face. as his gaze made its way across the room, his eyes got stuck on what he would so kindly classify a fashion disaster. alaric grimaced, leaning close to the person next to them. “ I might have to skip on the cosmos... witnessing that has made me dizzy enough. “

It’s late on a Wednesday night which never boded well for the night.

But Mel’s Diner was closed for renovations and the Golden Griddle was an apt substitute at two in the morning. It was quiet and unassuming and no one looked twice at him when he waltzed in dressed looking like he crawled out of some back alley next to the feral cats and garbage piled high. It’s a Wednesday sure, but Archie is nothing if not consistent with his schedule sometimes and the bruises on his knuckles mean he’s still high off the rush of a fight he shouldn’t have been in to begin with.

Pulling the hood on his sweater up a little higher, there’s a brief glance cast around. Already he misses Mel’s and the comfort of familiarity and the booth at the back where his back is pressed to a wall and he can watch the rest of the room. When the waitress circles around, he glances up and skims her nametag - April - before looking thoughtfully down at the menu.

“So what can I getcha doll?”

Already he hates it here.

“Just coffee and water for now,” he says, flipping the menu over and skimming it quietly. “I’ll need a minute.” April gives a nod and Archie watches her leave with a pop of gum and a sway of her hips. It’s enough to distract him from realizing the thick vinyl is squeaking and the bench across from him is filled by company he hadn’t expected. A muscled jumps in his jaw and he gives them a careful once over.

Tugging his hood back there’s a fleeting smile for the sake of manners.

Somewhere at Nolan’s back, clear across the room, the stage speakers played a mournful, dark cover of Black Magic Woman while one of the girls danced. Nolan found himself singing along while the bass rolled through him. His heart was still racing from his own set; he could hear his pulse in his ears.

Still, the adrenaline, the thrill of an audience, was much better than coke. Sometimes Nolan thought he might have more success dancing at a gay club, but the women (and men) who came out to Zephyr always made him feel pretty,

He stepped up to the kitchen window, nodded his thanks to the cook, and picked up a tray of fries. From there, he took a winding path back to the floor. 

Blue-and-purple lights slid over Nolan’s naked torso right on time for a song cue. “Bisexual lighting”, one of the girls had called it. Nolan had laughed, but then someone showed him the flag. He liked it, he decided. Everyone looked good in it.

Finally, he stopped at table three and its sole occupant.

“Here are your fries, Babe,” he greeted, setting his tray down. “My name is Parker. I’m taking over for Viv – she just went on her break. Let me know if I can get you anything else.”

He threw in a wink. How could he not?