@morgansmornings

Morning was around noon or so depending on various factors. Usually if she slept alone, it was around that, if not then a little later. Also depended on how well she slept. Which today, this morning or whatever it was, she had slept well for once, it did happen.

Eying the time and figuring Baz was due any time, Natasha dressed, comfortably for now in some sweats and a tank top before heading down stairs to turn on the lights and check mail and other things.

And of course the second the elevator doors opened and she stepped into the club Natasha knew something was off.

It was just a feeling, similar to the one people often got when they forgot something. It wasn’t a feeling she had often or at all that she could think of, offhand. But it was there and it had her checking every inch of the place until she found the source.

A familiar dark head of hair using a book for a pillow in the corner of one of the sitting areas.

Jay.

Did she wake her or…

She probably should wake her.

Carefully, not wanting to startle her too much, Natasha reached out, her hand coming to rest on the younger woman’s shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze.

Darcy was standing with and near officers as she watched the apartment building she lived in smoke while fire fighters made sure that the fire was out and would not start again. Apparently despite everything being wet that could still happen, go figure. Her fingers were toying with her phone as she waited for Natasha to show up. She hadn’t heard the first calls she got, too busy with proving that yes she lived there and with the sirens it was hard to hear.

She felt bad for worrying everyone, but when she got the call that her place was on fire she grabbed her purse and flamed out, not even thinking about telling anyone.

Now it sounded like she was out of a home. Most if not all of her things were destroyed, and for now she couldn’t even get in to see it herself. Information that came from a fighter who had been in there. That’d have to wait until morning when the professionals decided if it was safe or not. It was quite a blow, so many things that weren’t replaceable but not fire proof were in there. The only saving grace was the little storage unit she had with some of her parents effects in it.

Hearing a familiar car engine she made her way to the edge of the crowd and scanned the area. Looking rather harried and stressed, two things that were out of place on the woman. 

Closed starter for @lilxlionxman.

With a few weeks off between semesters, Jayden found herself almost moving into The Parlor. She had spent several weeks just getting settled into her new life. She was used to working at The Dive Bar as a waitress. She had been learning from the bartenders how to mix drinks and what to do when someone asked for a mixed drink they came up with themselves. 

She had undergone some training before she ended up leaving. And that was what had her applying for the club. 

There was an opening and she was willing to put in the time to be taught. What she wasn’t expecting was how quiet her new boss was. He seemed nice enough, a little distant but that was about it. Things weren’t so bad. The only problem Jay had was that Nat conveniently forgot to mention the fact that Baz was almost a functional mute. 

And that didn’t change with her training. Which is how she found herself on the other side of the Bar, pen and notepad in hand watching him. 

send five times kissed for a drabble about five times our mused kissed 

inspiration from this song right here [ whiskey’s fine ] 

                       I got a bottle opened upand I wanna feel the rush                                    ‘cause I need that you and me buzz

1. Whiskey dry right down his throat does all but hinder that fire, the slow burn of a hazy gaze that seems to settle against his skin. Heavy hands have touched and pulled against the bottle, the sleeves of a shirt he’s thought about laying over the back of the couch. And maybe this is suicide. Asking for a end. But maybe it’s what needs to happen, happens right when Baz’s head hits the back of the couch in some slurred infectious laugh because again Steve’s trying to learn about futball but his minds too foggy to keep it all in ; too intoxicated by sound and lips and the lingering feel of calloused fingers against his skin. Rough skinned thumb against the curb of the others lips, and suddenly there’s no space between them or the back of the couch as mcgarrett leans in close enough to taste that fireball on his tongue, drink Baz in like century old whiskey straight from the barrels of Tennessee. 

2. whiskey burns.  it lingers.  it sets a fire straight down to the core and then spreads slowly until every inch is devoured and taken whole. and that’s what this feels like, suffocating - and though the parlor is large and the bar is vast nothing can’t seem to quench his thirst. no bottles of water or a fifth of johnnie walker black. and yet; his lips burn, trying to salvage a taste long forgotten, and when closing time finally sneaks around and the majority of the workplace has left is when mcgarrett finally dives right in for a taste. boxes dropped back by the door and bodies flushed against a wall, hungry hands searching to find the warmth of skin; and lips, they find their home first at the hallow of a throat, nip and tease until his ears are burning with the sound that begs please, and then finally to taste; to drink in the other that is better than any top shelf whiskey. 

3. Three am comes and goes all too fast, bar closed down and people crowd the streets of Vegas for something else to keep their high and keep them up. Its the city that doesn’t sleep after all. And while McGarrett’s boots should carry him in the opposite direction back towards his bachelor flat, they don’t; and the neon buzz is hardly the kind he wants. so down he goes. around the corner until eventually he’s standing at the door of baz’s place. a familiar knock and he hears the sound of shuffling feet until the lock of the door is turned and pulled open, and there’s not even an exchange of words, steve pushing himself inside and folding his hands into the fabric of an old flannel. they pull until he’s sinking into a kiss, saying far more than words ever could. something that feels like i need you. something that screams i think i love you. something that has him completely in the palms that is bastian barton. and maybe this time, vegas starts to feel like home. 

4.  The alarm clock is faint in the background. Far later than what he’s ever used to waking up at, but apparently still early enough that Baz is pulling the clock off of the dresser and tossing it somewhere across the room with a groan. He falls back against the bed, a mess of hair and his throat scratchy from sleep, and he may not be a morning person in the slightest but steve couldn’t miss this for the world. and he snakes an arm over his stomach, fingers lightly ghosting over his side which has baz shifting to try and get away, but not before mcgarrett has a chance to roll him towards him and wrap a leg around him to make him stay.  he drowns the protest with an all too eager kiss, one that eventually has hands finding their way into his hair. Where Baz eventually kisses him back, pulling until he’s leaning over and trailing a hand down over a toned chest, over a stomach, stopping just where the elastic band stops his tracks. 

     “mm, as much as i’d love to, you have to get to work soon.”  

a taunt right over baz’s lips, which only makes the bartender damn near growl, in which steve just chuckles against the hallow of his throat. 

       “never said you couldn’t be a little late though.”  

5. One month. Two weeks four days sixteen hours and twenty seven seconds.  That’s how long it’s been since he’s felt that high against his skin. And he’s the only one to blame, isn’t he?  Because he fucked up.  Lied for the duration of his time at The parlor. To his boss. To Baz.  And he steps off the plane with an itch in his skin he can’t quite get; cause he’d just got back in Hawaii from Vegas and the only thing that could ever calm him was Baz. But he wasn’t there, apparently left just a few days prior to try and find what he’d been missing. Said he was leaving. Didn’t really say where. And yet Steve can’t seem to get the way Nat looked at him out of the back of his mind. The pity. Cause maybe they were all rooting for them. Maybe they weren’t. All steve knows is that he’d come back to Hawaii empty handed and it just doesn’t feel like home... and that’s the funny thing about love, isn’t it.  Home is never a place but a person. 

But the drive back to his house is nothing. He could do it as easy as sleeping. And the lights blur by just like the lines on the highway. One by one, until there’s nothing left but the gravel of his drive way and the sinking feeling that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. That Silverado is put into park, engine shut off and the door closed behind him. And he expects the tranquil feel of a salty breeze against his skin. Expects the fresh hair of Oahu to cleanse the muddy clay of Vegas. But what he doesn’t expect is to be met with blue eyes on his porch. A ghost he’d been searching for to be staring back at him. And he freezes. A deer in the headlights. 

          ‘’... just needed a’week t’ see ...  what this is.  ‘’  

And that’s more than enough.  Enough reason for boots to scamper across the concrete and up the stairs. Hands finding their home on either side of Baz’s face. And his bag thuds against the porch, his hands wrapping in a faded out Navy Academy tee, and Steve drowns out the past month drinking all of the other in. Where every groan says i missed you. Every breath says don’t leave me. Every pull closer, push backward, body’s finding a home against the door - slipping inside, every stolen peck he can get that is a unspoken confession. 

@justabrooklynkid

Very little got passed Nat. She knew her employees, her dancers, even some of the regulars well enough to know when something was off. She had noticed something was up with Thing 1, Steve all day. He just didn’t seem like his normal self from afternoon rehearsals to performances that night. She had watched with some concern, then a lot more as the night had gone on. Enough that when the club closed up for the night, she gave the quick nod at Baz, leaving him in charge and pulled the blond upstairs before he could protest otherwise.

Her apartment was clean, but at times it was a bit cluttered and usually with clothing and or shoes. She had a habit that first thing off when she got upstairs was her shoes and thus a small collection of them had formed there by the elevator doors. She followed the mode now, slipping the strappy heels off and becoming shorter by two inches…

Which left Rogers towering over her even more.

But she didn’t mind.

“You want a drink or something?” Ever the hostess, she had snacks too or leftover take out foods of some sort. Cooking? Didn’t happen or at least not by her hands if it did. Some of the guys were kitchen savvy, which was nice.

She looked at him, head tilting for a moment before she stepped into the kitchen, grabbing a water for herself from the fridge.

Closed starter for @justabrooklynkid

Waking up at 8 am was not something Jayden had not wanted to do only for that to be followed by a shitty day. 

For the last seven months she had grown used to watching the sun rise as her day wound down to an end. She had been able to switch her classes around to fit her schedule at The Parlor. Which was lovely in her opinion. Her teachers had been very understanding. 

Speaking of The Parlor, Jay entered the club three hours before she had to be there. It didn’t open until seven and she was already dragging ass. The day had been full of three mock trials, only one of which was her’s. But she had to sit through the entire class because “there were valuable lessons to be learned.” 

Yeah right. What was going to be learned was that if he pinched her ass one more time…. Pain. Lots of pain. And she would take great joy in it. She had been in a set of boxing gloves since she was five. There really would have been no match. Instead she had bit her tongue, almost hard enough to cut the side of it with her teeth, and waited till she was dismissed. 

She wandered over to the bar hopping up on top of it long enough to put her bag away and grab her apron. This was the one place in the world that she could feel at ease. Right now all she wanted to do was go back to back to bed and start tomorrow. Unfortunately it was too late to call in dead as she was already on camera. So instead she laid out on the countertop, keeping her shoes away from it and propped on a stool. Her arm came up over her head just enough to close her eyes.

@hoouna

It’s funny how fast time flies. She remember when Steve McGarrett first started showing up, hanging around. She had noticed him because he was different than the usual male patrons at the Parlor. Most of them were not, well, like he was. Decidedly masculine. She had watched him, night after night showing up, Baz had taken notice of him too, especially how he seemed interested in her Jersey Boy as she liked to call him. Not that she could blame him there, the man had a particular vibe that appealed to a certain kind of palate.

But all of her men appealed to her and all of them were so very different.

That night in her office she had eyed the calendar and smiled. Then she had stepped out for an hour, leaving the place in good hands of course while she did. When she returned, she slipped up into her apartment and placed the sleek black box on her coffee table before returning to the Club to watch the rest of the acts. Each night was a little different, though each headliner had their signature ways.

She watched while Thing 2 danced, as she affectionately referred to him as or at least when Steve Rogers, who was Thing 1 on the account he had been here first was in the same room. It was her little amusement, one of the ways she teased.

She enjoyed the show, the effort he had. She had been surprised he had the talent admittedly, but he had sold himself well. Very well. It had been a shame when Baz had showed up that morning when he did and yet she had never been one for moving that quickly into physical satisfaction with a man. She liked to get to know them first, spend a little time. She knew all of them, what they liked and didn’t, as well as their hear breaks and what made them laugh.

In her own way, even though she said she didn’t fall in love anymore, Nat had fallen in love with each of her men and she had found herself falling for the hazel eyed Hawaiian. She liked how those eyes could be blue in some light and green in others, or if he wore particular colors. She liked how his hands could be hard and soft at the same time.

And he was stronger than he looked. He had lifted her that morning up onto the bar as though she weighted nothing and had further asserted himself in her mind, getting her attention and ultimately a place on the stage. She always did like a man who knew what he wanted and went after it in the right ways.

The night had dwindled down, last calls given out and the evening’s finale bringing all those still present to their feet, some of them swaying thanks to the amount of good drink in their system. As always Nat made sure those who were too intoxicated either had a room at one of the hotels nearby, either Binions or Golden Gate or if they insisted, she also dealt with cab rides. The city had enough accidents from drunken fools, she wasn’t going to let her patrons regulars or not add to that toll.

The early morning hours progressed then as they always did, clean up and then food, everyone having some laughs until finally the hour came when they all went their separate ways.