how the other side lives ., tag: Bird!

[Cooper Vale]

It wasn't a starry night. In fact, the sky was dark enough that it would be possible to imagine that all the stars had simultaneously died that night - or rather, a long time ago for those with more active understanding of the way light travels - instead of having simply taken cover behind a layer of expertly concealed clouds that hung heavily over the city and promised rain in the early hours of the morning. Cooper observed this from his position inside the taxi taking them to the late-hour recreational hub of Bishop's North End, leaned against the backseat door with his forehead against the cool, vibrating glass of the window. One arm was on the door's armrest, his hand curled a stationary handle as though to keep him in place on the rocky ride that had been quite smooth thus far, while the other arm stretched towards the other side of the backseat and met, in its middle, another man's outstretched arm. In the middle seat of the backseat, their hands were tangled, as they should be, and his thumb brushed gently back and forth across the other man's thumb. When he turned his head, gradually twisting it so that it remained all the time in contact with the chilled glass, he could see him between gaps of darkness in the dim light that fell from passing streetlights through the opposite window and across his face. He smiled and squeezed his hand lightly, sighing a handful of quiet words in southern drawl, "Almost there, sugar."

The alternating darkness and illumination caused the comforting effect of his companion's eyes and smile to burst at him in non-continuous flashes, with each passing taking some of their joy away, and with each return giving a little extra joy back. Phoenix looked pretty in this light.

Since Pax was otherwise engaged, and since it was only going to be the two of them on this fateful evening, it had occurred to Cooper that the hours after nine would be best spent at a special location, getting up to special activities that you'd best move outside of the comforts of home in order for them to achieve optimal effect. From their languid situation on the floor of Phoenix's apartment, cuddled together and creating their own fun with the help of a kitten and a small figurine tied to the end of a string, this realization had brought them up and out and, ultimately, here, and would, in the continuation of their adventure, land them in the club-like bar of Cooper's choosing, situated in the middle of a street in the middle of the city.

It was called Gem or Jewel or Emerald or Tunnel Vision, or any number of possibilities that he couldn't account for in the moment of direction-giving. When faced with the blank stare of a taxi driver who was brought to face the increasing possibility that this would be a hopeless scenario for a man of his profession to find himself in, he had decided to give, instead of a named destination, a vague (but optimistic) description of the kind of area he would like them to find themselves in, and leave the rest up to the judgment of their Bosnian driver. When they finally pulled up to the curb and were offered the dazzling opportunity to pay their fare, the club he looked up at when he glanced out the window was not named Gem or Jewel or Emerald or Tunnel Vision, but was, simply and pseudo-scandalously, named SIXTY-NINE.

He decided that it was relevant that the name was in all capital letters.

The driver was paid in cash. It was a cheap fare, anyway; he made sure to tip him well for his imaginative approach to locating their destination solely through gut instinct and moxy, and then he slid out of the backseat and onto the sidewalk. It was still damp from the brief - but heavy - shower a few hours earlier. He'd just missed it when he arrived at Phoenix's building; it had been a good day for well-timed arrivals. A glance at the entrance revealed that it continued to be a good day; no line, free passage. A smile stretched across the face. "We're some talented bastards, darlin'," he stated with a chuckle playing on the edge of every word, "How about we just stroll up into that joint and make ourselves at home, hm?" His smile widened as he turned and let his eyes land on the now consistently illuminated Phoenix. A sideways step brought him as close as he needed to be, and he stretched an arm around his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his cheek, staying close enough to breathe in the scent of him afterwards. "Be warned, though, sweetheart; these here folks play for the other team." He said it with the kind of emphasis that is always used when identifying unfamiliar - you could go so far as to say abnormal - practices, and lifted his brows in further emphasis and silent judgment of the straight practice. "Think you're up for it?"

[Phoenix Delafield]

The world framed by the window of a car was how Phoenix remembered much of his childhood. Before that was all warm, syrupy stillness, occupied centrally by his mother, with his grandparents, uncle and aunt flowing in and out, punctuated by the unsettling presence of his father, dreaded and longed for. Then change came, and the only constant was his mother and the car window, as they fled from his grandparents death, his father’s infidelity, and whatever other demons his mother had dreamt up. For nine years she had run, pulling him after her, sometimes willing, sometimes not, but always there, because it was just the two of them and they didn’t need anyone else as long as they had each other. But she had left him, for good, forever, and so he had needed to find other people, people who he hoped would never leave him but always imagined that they would, sooner or later. So now he looked out of another car window, seated next to a person who had come to assume the position vacated so abruptly by his mother.

Phoenix wasn’t really sure where they were going, he hadn’t really listened to what Cooper told the man, but he remained uncertain as to whether anyone in the taxi knew where they were going. It was a small adventure, in that sense, and he didn’t bother himself overly much to consider where it would end. No doubt the other man had it all figured out, Phoenix decided, open affection showing in his expression as he looked down at their joined hands and then up at Cooper, who, on cue Phoenix thought, revealed that they were nearly there, sugar. A ready grin formed, eager now for their destination to be revealed, and the possibilities of the night ahead to unfold. The car stopped, and hands were untangled, for the necessity of climbing out of the taxi, and Phoenix stepped out onto the pavement, laughing as he caught sight of the name of the club.

“Very talented. And excellent at choosing taxi drivers, too.” Phoenix agreed to Cooper’s statement, a bright smile backing up his agreement, while he looked around, taking in their current surroundings. He had been in the area before, he had been around most of the North End, as it was his place of residence, and the majority of his clients liked to meet in this section of the city, but he didn’t think he had been to this particular club. Not unless he had been too drunk to remember, but that was unlikely, as he became a sobbing drunk before a forgetful one, and he always tried to stop before the sobbing stage. From what he could see, this place wasn’t going to be the usual haunts that he would go to with Cooper and Pax. It seemed unlikely that there would be a minority female population as there frequently was. Phoenix didn’t mind so much, he did technically play both sides of the fence, but all the action he got with women these days ended with a transaction of money.

A expression of pure contentment drifted across Phoenix’s features as he stood on the curb outside the club and felt the press of Cooper’s lips against his cheek and his arm around him. There was nothing better in his opinion than the closeness of his best friend and that affection that he so cherished. Whether it was with Pax or Cooper didn’t bother him too much; he valued each of them just as highly and was content to receive anything from the litany of cuddles, kisses and hand holds that came his way from both of them. He slid his arm around to settle against the middle of his friend’s back and turned his head a little to the side to make a vague return of the kiss to whatever part of Cooper’s face his lips came into contact with first.

Phoenix laughed as Cooper warned him about the tendencies of the visitors to the club and turning his head to observe the front of the building, lifting his gaze all the way to the top and then back down again, looking towards Cooper. “I think we can manage.” He assured him with a confident nod. “We’ll make them wish they played for our team.” Phoenix added, his smile widening as he did so. “And luckily I play for both teams, we can use that to our advantage.” He pointed out. How exactly that could be used to their advantage, Phoenix wasn’t entirely sure but practicalities were not exactly his strong suit, and they rarely bothered him for longer than a hand full of moments. It didn’t matter, either way, he wasn’t here for the other people, he was here for Cooper, and so what he needed from the club was very simple; alcohol, music, the entertainment of people watching and further time spent in Cooper’s company. “Come on.” Phoenix said with a grin, as he tugged Cooper with him, walking towards the entrance to the club, and once the bouncers had let them in, with slightly suspicious glances that Phoenix barely noticed and largely ignored, allowed the warm, dark atmosphere of the club swallow them.

[Cooper Vale]

There was no need to point out the obvious flaws of Phoenix's conclusion. Playing for both teams was hardly a strength in any situation, at least not if it came with open admission; there were critical eyes offered for that sort on both teams. Excluded as much from the realm of homo as the realm of hetero, those that labelled themselves bi and pan and omni and what-have-you had, with Cooper as a watchful member of the audience, been greeted with scoffs and rolled eyes, snide comments and dismissal. If they were gay, you were a gay and in denial; if they were straight, you were gay at best, and straight, loose and attention-seeking at worst. There was no straddling the fence; if you claimed to not have both feet planted firmly on one side, you were a liar. It was an awful generalization to make, he knew, even if he kept it to himself, but he also knew that the generalization existed for a reason; even he often felt a scoff building and his eyes threatening to roll when faced with this matter. But now he didn't scoff. Now he laughed and nuzzled into Phoenix's cheek, and thought he was endearing and lovely and wonderful and Phoenix, just as he should be, and to hell with the fence.

No objections to being tugged along like a dog on a leash - he'd never minded a leash, at least not literally speaking - but absolute submission to Phoenix's joyful demand. He followed, keeping his arm around the other's shoulders and putting an accidental swagger in his steps as they walked up to the doors and were granted admission. Exaggeratedly, he winked at the bouncers. They were the kind of burly bears that Cooper had always had a fondness for - oh bears, his very own Achilles' heel, but that wasn't true: angry, destructive souls were his kryptonite - and they exuded straightness from every pore. For one of them, the emphasis of I am not the least bit curved was too much, and something inside of Cooper buzzed and reached and wanted out to play, but he wouldn't let it. Phoenix's time, not the time to chase supposed straight men out of the closet and into the spotlight to put a boa around their shoulders. Instead, he let his eyes linger with the tall, broad-shouldered man, who shifted and looked away quickly, and pretended that he hadn't just given the two companions a tell-tale once-over.

Now with a broad grin plastered onto his face, he entered the establishment and unknowingly tightened his grip protectively around the younger man's shoulders. Through the entrance hall of the club - no attention was offered to the largely uninterested girl manning the coat-check, who seemed more focused on blowing bubble-gum bubbles and reading her trashy magazine than on the arriving customers - and into the main portion of the club, they travelled from a state of silence through a state of muffled music to this place, where contemporary pop-techno was blaring and obnoxious. Why, it was almost worthy of a giggle! He settled for a chuckle in the end, and faced Phoenix again, hugging him tight as he nipped on his cheek with playful teeth and placed a light kiss on the exact same place a second later. "Let's go and plant our asses obnoxiously by the bar and get me a beer, yeah?" He spoke into Phoenix's ear, lips close enough that they almost touched the other man's skin as they shaped around syllables and words, voice as quiet as he could get it without being drowned out by the music.

It'd be quieter by the bar.
It was always quieter by the bar.

His arm slipped away from Phoenix's shoulders, instead brushing his hand over the other man's back and ultimately slipping it into Phoenix's hand. It was his turn to tug him along, now, and instead of taking the easy and convenient path across the walkway that led around the circular dance floor, he brought them down those few steps to the dance floor and walked them confidently across. Declarations of, "Comin' through!" mixed with announcements of, "You and your fat ass are in our way," as he pushed through a crowd consisting mostly of women, who were none too pleased with Cooper's antics. Cooper, as it happened, was more than pleased with their displeasure. For tonight, it seemed, he had no problem with not making any friends.

Once the dance floor was conquered - and he did feel like the victorious Man-at-Arms as they burst through the crowd and emerged safely on the other side - they had to climb a second set of steps to get through the seating area to the bar. The bar, Cooper commented to himself, was almost a successful feature. Clearly, this particular club was doing its utmost to be shocking and cutting-edge, and had decorated its bar-area with images of silhouetted women, all naked, in various suggestive poses, and hadn't it been for the obvious agenda behind the display, Cooper would have thought it wonderful. It drew a snicker from him now, however, and he sidled closer to Phoenix, pressing himself close enough that his lips were on his ear again, and he could murmur a teasing, "Personally, I'm shocked by this blatant display of silhouetted titties," followed by a chuckle and, "What ever will I do with my delicate disposition?" He drew back then and laughed loudly, shaking his head as he tugged Phoenix through the seating portion of the club, weaving between chairs and tables and women who didn't appreciate him knocking their handbags over with his rudely advancing feet, and brought them all the way to the bar.

It was quieter here. The club's design was genius, in that sense; while the music was still clearly heard - and would be all through the club - a lower ceiling clad in a soft, sound-stifling material both cut off the music from the taller dance floor section of the club and ensured that chatter and music in this area didn't bounce off the walls and resonate. Details like this, Cooper could appreciate, and he took a moment to look up and attempt to determine exactly what material the ceiling was clad in. He was interrupted by the arrival of the bartender, and promptly ordered a beer (in a bottle) and "Whatever this sweet thing wants," in an accent so thick, it was unmistakeable. For a moment, he let his eyes wander after that, waiting until Phoenix had ordered his drink of choice before he looked back to the bar, grinning broadly at the bartender - not the cutest he'd ever seen, but certainly do-able - and winking playfully. He thought he caught a smile from the other man, but decided not to care and instead turn his attention back to Phoenix. "What do you think? This the kind of 69 you can get onboard with?" He made no attempt to shield his tone from a certain suggestive quality.

[Phoenix Delafield]

There was an uncomplicated, unrivalled security and comfort about having the arm of a friend around him, the warmth across his upper back, the warmth again his side, the hint of a scent that he could just pick up. If that friend was Cooper or Pax the embrace took on an extra dimension; it gave the world meaning, it gave him meaning, to be loved like that and held like that, nestled comfortably against the side of one of his best friends. Nothing could possibly hurt or upset him then. He tried to assure himself of that fact, despite the multiple times he had sat or stood or lain with one or both of his best friends holding him without much more than the most superficial lifting of misery and fear. In his current mood those memories couldn’t touch him, there was no truth to them, they belonged to another person. He had always been adept at make believe with a particular talent for playing himself.

Phoenix certainly didn’t miss the lingering glance from the bouncer but simply grinned in response to it, blue eyes amused and light, devoid of any indication of thoughts that were not so bright and breezy in nature. His focus was much more happily focused on the man next to him to linger for more than few seconds on people outside of their twosome. The smile which lingered on his lips became broader, content and blissful, as Cooper hugged him, nipped him, kissed him, and Phoenix snuggled in tighter, nuzzling into the embrace like the kitten he had struggled to leave behind, alone, in his apartment. A little laugh and a slight shiver passed through him as Cooper whispered in his ear, the breath exhaled tickling over the surface of his skin. “You have the best ideas, Cooper-love.” Phoenix replied, turning his head to plant a firm kiss on his friend’s cheek. Over his shoulder he caught the disgusted expression of a young man just arrived in the club and Phoenix smirked lightly, unable to resist enjoying just a little bit the freaking out of determinedly straight people.

A moment later the shocked expression and it’s owner were forgotten, Phoenix’s attention switching back to Cooper, and the hand which closed around his, pulling him onwards. He followed behind in Cooper’s wake, clinging to his hand and using this time to look around the club properly and offer calm smiles in response to offended glares which followed Cooper in much the same way Phoenix did. He didn’t need to concern himself with where they were going; he trusted the older man to lead him in the right direction and besides, as long as he was with Cooper, what did it matter where they went and what they did?

As they entered the bar area, he tilted his head to one side, squinting at the decorations before breaking into a laugh at Cooper’s whispered comment. “It’s okay, they’re not real.” Phoenix replied, playful in his assurance of that delicate disposition, accompanied by a pat of his hand. “They can’t be that big and that high up without a little assistance.” He gave a knowledgeable, assured nod, a supposed expert delivering his opinion. “They don’t feel as nice, either.” Phoenix added with a smirk, knowing that his friend might not be quite so enamoured with this subject choice. Once again he was pulled forwards, and they made their way through the assault course of tables, chairs, handbags and pissed off and pissed women until they arrived at the bar proper.

With a grin he hopped up onto one of the bar stools that were casually dispersed around the front of the bar - no doubt cursed and pushed aside once the real crush of people began - finding it was one of those stools span around, and immediately set to testing this out, turning himself in two full rotations before swinging from side to side. He came back to face the bar in time for the bartender to turn to him, with a disparaging look, and Phoenix’s eyes darted over the boards listing the available drinks, looking for something with an interesting name to catch his attention. “I shall haaaaave... a Cuban Pussy, please.” The name of the cocktail was announced with a flourish and no small amount of satisfaction, but his attention was pulled away from seeing how the bartender reacted to focus on Cooper’s question. The smile was back full force as he looped a casual arm around Cooper’s shoulder. “As long as you’re here, I can get onboard with anything.” He declared, before a slight pout entered his tone as he spoke again. “Even a distinct lack of pretty men.”

[Cooper Vale]

It never failed to amaze people that Cooper, with all his affinity for the male persuasion, was more than a little familiar with the female breast. He had, in fact, known many men who couldn't boast the familiarity he could; in his experience, women were less offended when a gay man asked for permission to fondle their breasts than when a straight man did. (This would never make sense to Cooper, of course, but Cooper's mind had a tendency to rely on one track only.) Still, he didn't feel the need to inform Phoenix of this. He didn't feel the need to divulge details from his wonderful experience of having a handful of boob-job in the right hand and a handful of nature's own in his left at the same time, he didn't feel the need to offer his observations on the natural jiggle of a woman's breasts or the pertness of a woman's nipples in comparison to a man's. He concluded to himself, however, that Phoenix was right; these dark 2D silhouettes obviously had enhanced features in that area, and it was a sad thing indeed.

Fake breasts didn't have nearly as delightful a bounce to them as real ones did. Tricia had personally made sure that he learned that particular lesson.

They settled at the bar, he with far less enjoyment of the rotating barstools than Phoenix, though he watched his companion's delight with a mixture of fondness and pride, while he himself merely leaned forward, elbows on top of the bar while he waited for service, offering his most radiant smiles to the man as he took Phoenix's order. More than reacting himself, he watched for the stranger's reaction, but it was a devastatingly disappointing one; at a place like this with a name like that, the bartenders were even more guaranteed to be impervious to cheekily delivered drink names. He didn't flinch, didn't budge, simply nodded and looked to Cooper as though awaiting further instructions. Maybe it was obvious that this wasn't necessarily his drink of choice. He shook his head only briefly before turning his attention entirely to Phoenix, grinning broadly and chuckling at his words.

"We'll make do with each other, hm? Gorgeous specimens that we are." In true Cooper-fashion, he leaned in close, tongue darting out to place a quick lick along Phoenix's pronounced cheekbone, before he turned back to the bartender with a near-feral look in his eyes. "This one ain't half shabby, though." The bartender merely arched a brow at him, though Cooper saw a lopsided smile beginning to form. Whatever he was, the bartender knew how to play ball. (Of course, he had to if he wanted to win the big tip.) His arm stretched around the small of Phoenix's back, hand cupping his side gently as he looked the bartender in the eyes and said, casually and unassumingly, "I'll have a long, slow fuck behind the bar." For a moment, there was silence. For a few moments more, the silence stretched, confusion entering the man's face at the order - no doubt because Cooper's face betrayed no indication of lascivious meanings, but was rather formed into the expression of a man awaiting his drink order to be completed. "We don't...serve that..." he answered with uncertainty, and Cooper's brows rose suddenly. "Oh, we're ordering drinks? I got confused. Get me a beer, darlin', to go with my companion's Cuban Pussy." Now his expression broke, cheeky smile in place as he winked at the man. Still he didn't react strongly, only smiled and nodded and said they were coming right up.

Admitting defeat when it came to this particular bartender, he turned his eyes back to Phoenix, resting his chin on the younger man's shoulder and pouting slightly. "Bartenders are mean," he declared, resignation (and a clear disapproval of having resigned) in his voice, "They refuse to blush for me." He brightened immediately, lifting his head a little and nuzzling Phoenix's cheek, grinning and lowering his voice to a lascivious whisper. "Until I get them into my lair and start pulling out the tricks I've got stored up my sleeve, that is."

[Phoenix Delafield]

Phoenix had always enjoyed the side of Cooper which a fair amount of people seemed to find quite disturbing, never knowing quite how to deal with. Being less inhibited himself probably helped, but Phoenix generally found that he could take most of what his best friend said without batting an eyelid, mostly without realising it might be taken as shocking or offensive until other people reacted. He had to admit that he quite enjoyed those reactions too, and remained baffled that people weren’t as endeared as he was. The bartender was another prime example of this. A burst of laughter bubbled uncontrollably from between Phoenix’s lips, which he quickly silenced with a hand clamped across his mouth, not wanting to ruin the effect of Cooper’s request from the bartender, or the confused reaction it elicited from the man. It wasn’t long before he was laughing again, as Cooper placed his actual order and the bartender moved off to fulfil it. “I bet he wishes he’d let someone else serve us.” Phoenix said with a grin, shifting on his stool so that he was more comfortably placed, as near to the other man as he could get of course.

“I don’t know how they manage it.” Phoenix replied, with a laugh and a shake of his head. “I would be all over you if I was your bartender.” He turned his head a fraction, so that Cooper’s mouth, close because of the nuzzling as it had been, was now pressed up against his skin. A little satisfied smile grew at their closeness, and as he occasionally did, he felt his love for his best friend intensify, squeezing at his chest and make him long for nothing more than to cuddle up to him and never let go. He settled for lifting an arm to slip around Cooper’s back, his hand absently tracing the muscles he could feel through the material of his friend’s clothing, before sneaking up to fiddle with soft hair, occasionally shifting the trace the curve of his ear before delving back into longer strands of Cooper’s dark brown hair. He exaggerated a little shiver of delight as Cooper’s whispered. b]“Oh, no one could resist your lair or your tricks, or your sleeves.”[/b] Phoenix replied, a smile etching itself broadly across his lips. “Although your sleeves are quite rude in their insistence on covering up your arms.” He added, moving his free hand to draw a line with his finger over Cooper’s wrist, around the bone and then following the line down his arm.

He lifted his gaze from Cooper’s skin as the bartender returned with their drinks, noting that the sight of the two of them cuddled up together hardly drew more than raised eyebrows from the man. Phoenix thought it might be amusing if there was more of a reaction, but it was only a fleeting thing, a little bit of play which did nothing to distract him from the original intention of the evening, which was to spend time with Cooper. The bartender could be part of that, in some small way, but in the end, other people had a habit of fading into insignificance when he was with his best friends. Leaving Cooper’s arm alone, he reached for his drink, plucking it off the bar top and taking a sip, judging that it was tasty enough to become his drink for the evening, unless something else took his fancy. As the bartender moved to ring up their drinks at the cash register, Phoenix turned his head to look at Cooper. “I used to know a bartender, back in Boston, who would point out the people who would pay the most for sex to me. He was like my rent boy sensi.” Phoenix mused, breaking into a grin. “I don’t think this one would be as helpful. But he is much prettier.”

The bartender returned again, just in time to hear the tale end of that, and Phoenix smiled brightly at him, reaching for his wallet and hanging over the money. “Keep the change.” He said airily, in a habit that had him tipping all manner of people from taxi drivers to bartenders to doormen in a way that might be considered extravagant. Phoenix thought it was only fair really, as he had spent time struggling to exist and longing for good tips before becoming a prostitute, and it was only fair that now he was a in a good position, he might as well give people the kind of tips he had longed for. That and it was easier than trying to work out the maths of what he needed to be handing over and then going through the awkwardness of trying to add his change together at some point in the future. Paper money was far easier to deal with. Lowering his head to capture the straw between his lips, Phoenix sucked down a healthy mouthful of drink, finding that it was one of those dangerous concoctions where the taste of alcohol was concealed and it would be quite easy to drink far too many of them. Looking up from his drink, his eyes settled momentarily on a group of people further down the bar, and he pushed the straw out of his mouth with his tongue so that he could talk. “Do you think I could pull off a beard?” He questioned, attention firmly switched from bartenders to facial hair now.

[Cooper Vale]

I bet he wishes he'd taken me up on my offer.

It was right there, perched on the edge of his tongue, ready to traverse the meek distance between his mouth and Phoenix's ear should he wish it to do so, but as he watched the bartender move away, he was distracted into silence by one of the firmest posteriors he'd laid his eyes on today. (And it was always like that, every time; he was too easily distracted - and knew it well - by firmness and definition, and all those male expanses that his hands always itched to press themselves against to thoroughly trace their shape and outline.)

His let's-call-it-witty retort was soon forgotten, evaporated and gone, replaced by Phoenix's skin pressed against his lips, and a promise extended that made his mouth shape a grin and gave his confidence a none-needed (but always appreciated) boost. In playful, teasing manner, his teeth dragged over Phoenix's skin in an ineffective bite, followed by a quick kiss pressed to the pattern they'd outlined, and a quiet purr whispered into his friend's ear. "If you were my bartender, I'd insist on that long, slow fuck behind the bar."

His arm's hold fastened around Phoenix's frame, bringing him that small fraction closer that he required, and his head dipped to bury his face in the crook of his friend's neck, which was warm and dark and comfortable, and smelled sweetly of spices in appropriate contradiction. He hummed his appreciation against Phoenix's skin, the sound reverberating through his lips as he pressed them to his neck and felt the faint beating of his pulse through the delicate skin. It had always had such a soothing, drowsing effect to be so close to these men that he loved the most, and to feel their gentle, affectionate touch coasting across his skin and tangling into his hair. At once, he was distant, only murmuring unintelligibly against his friend's skin at his comment about tricks and sleeves and arms that he knew he had invited, but that he could no longer gather the energy to respond to.

(Maybe those sweetly smelling spices came with the side-effects of narcotics? He wouldn't put it past Phoenix to have a secret identity as a drug - he'd always experienced him as someone who instilled a mixture of elation and addiction.)

Hadn't the bartender had such a firm hand when he put the drinks back on the bar's surface, he might never have returned from this temporary lull. But he straightened, stood up, drew a sharp breath of reinvigoration and greeted the other man with a grin that was nothing short of flirtatious, bordering on lascivious. The bartender's eyes were fleeting now, only meeting his for short moments at a time, using Phoenix as a safe haven - and Cooper couldn't blame him for the urge. Arm still around his friend, his free hand took the bottle and brought it to his mouth, taking a quick sip and following the bartender with appreciative eyes headed south as he moved away.

(That would have to be his safe haven, now, as Phoenix told tales of rent boy senseis and Cooper had to smile and chuckle despite his urge to collect the man's name and address in order to pay him a well-deserved visit and show him exactly how he felt about his teachings...)

It wouldn't do to talk to Phoenix about these violent inclinations that he liked to pretend, around his friend taking flight and his other friend prone to peaceful measures, that he didn't have. And so he smiled and he chuckled and let Phoenix cover the cost of their drinks, awarding the bartender with a suggestive wink before he turned and walked away. His eyes travelled again to that well-sculpted ass (it would be likely to make him a man of faith, that ass, if he wasn't so firmly against the very suggestion), and kept him distracted yet again. Distracted enough that the answer he offered was simply, "No one can pull off a beard."

The realization struck precisely three seconds after he'd said it.

"Oh, you mean facial hair!" His head whipped around in an instant, body turning to face Phoenix, and hand sliding down to Phoenix's lower back, settling itself there with possessive assertiveness and affectionate gentleness. "No, darlin', you're not allowed." Setting his bottle down, his hand was free to roam (the one already settled onto Phoenix's back was stubbornly refusing to move), and tenderly landed on his friend's face, brushing across from one cheek to the next by way of his neck and chin. "Ain't nothing's allowed to come along and hide this face."

A tremendous smile stretched his lips as he said it, and he leaned in close, the hand on Phoenix's back brushing around to his side as his arm looped around him, tugging him closer. His free hand dropped away from Phoenix's cheek, finding his beer on the bar again and closing firmly against it as he brought his face close to Phoenix's, tilted his head to the side and, leaning in, pressed his lips in a gentle, chaste kiss to his friend's. He only moved his head back by a fraction of an inch afterwards, again grinning broadly as he made his next suggestion. "I think I saw a lounging area with sofas before." A mischievous look entered his eyes. "Wanna go find a place to cuddle up together and make straight dudes uncomfortable with our public displays of affection?"

[Phoenix Delafield]

Cooper was close enough for it to be considered indecent in politer realms of society, and perhaps even in this club there were people taking issue at the sight of two men pressed together, even if it was platonic. But pressed-close-enough-to-be-considered-indecent was exactly the way Phoenix liked Cooper to be and so the concern of offending was, as ever, far from his mind. The only thing he was willing to concentrate on was the graze of Cooper’s teeth and then the press of his mouth, and finally the rumble of softly spoken words, all of which sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. Platonic as their playful touch might be, Phoenix was still Phoenix, and he still responded to teasing teeth and the thought of a long, slow fuck behind a bar - not with Cooper, of course. “I’d close up the bar early.” Phoenix replied with a grin, and a low, playful laugh.

His smile remained as Cooper’s arm tightening around him, face burying in his neck and Phoenix was drawn in closer to his friend, comfortable in that position. He would be quite content never to move again, he thought, tilting his head so that his check brushed against the softness of Cooper’s hair. The low hum against his neck almost tickled, and in another situation he might have played it up, squirming away, laughing and acting out, but now he found it soothing and was disappointed it when it stopped. The vague, mumbled replies he got from Cooper were enough to encourage him to keep talking, needing nothing else to keep the words flowing from his mouth, certain he wasn’t being irritating.

The bartender was an interruption - impulsively labelled an unwelcome one - pulling Cooper away from him. Though the arm remained around him, Phoenix found a now disliked coolness and lightness spread across his side and against his neck without the solidity of his friend’s body pressed so close against him. But his attention was already drifting, towards beards and whether they would suit him, and so he didn’t make too much of a fuss, despite possessive inclinations that he tried not to vocalise too often. If he had it his way, Cooper would never leave his side, and Pax would be comfortably nestled on the other side. He tried to keep such neediness to himself. He didn’t want to scare them away with the strength of his need and the intensity of his love. Best to keep such things to himself. Still, there was other concerns, safer concerns, like beards, and a burst of laughter escaped Phoenix at Cooper’s reply, almost choking on the mouthful of alcohol he was in the process of swallowing.

He hastily took another sip to soothe the tickle building in his throat, grinning once he had swallowed, as Cooper’s hand moved down his back, and the other slid across his face and he was told he wasn’t allowed to hide his face with a beard. Phoenix set his drink down on the bar, his hands rising up to rest on Cooper’s shoulders, fingers plucking lightly and sporadically at the material of his shirt. He smiled brightly and tilted his head a fraction to the side, considering the remark. “But maybe I’d look more dignified. I could get some thick glasses and people would think I’m clever. Or I could grow it a bit more... messy and people would think I was in a band.” He wasn’t so bothered by it, in truth, merely one of those whims which tended to float across his mind at various points in time. So it was easy enough for bead related concerns to drift to the back of his mind as Cooper pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth, provoking a small, happy smile from Phoenix. The suggestion which followed caused his smile to widen.

“We should do that.” Phoenix agreed, nodding his head enthusiastically and smiling at Cooper. “You always have the best ideas.” Taking hold of his drink again in one hand, he reached for Cooper’s with the other, winding their fingers together. This time he was the one leading, drawing his friend along behind him, through the various obstacles of furniture and other people to reach the place where the sofas were located. Locating an empty sofa and making a move towards it. “We should have this one.” He announced, turning around to face Cooper, and directing him towards the sofa. Waiting until the older man was seated, he contemplated the space next to his friend, before discounting that altogether. Instead he lowered himself onto Cooper’s lap, having to do it so that his legs were diagonal, to keep his own feet on the ground. Looping one arm around Cooper’s neck, the other carefully balancing his drink on his knee, Phoenix turned his head to his friend and pressed a triumphant kiss to his cheek. “There. Much better than a sofa. Tell me if I’m crushing your legs, okay, Cooper-love?”

[Cooper Vale]

As they weaved through the crowd toward the sitting area, Cooper followed without once taking his eyes off the back of Phoenix's head. As far as he was concerned, these other people, dancing and bumping into them, exclaiming watch it at encounters that were decidedly the fault of the exclaimer, it seemed for moments at a time that the rest of the club might not even have been there. They existed as a buzz, a mild interruption or disturbance, but could hold no greater interest than that. He hadn't come here to spend time with strangers, though he might often do just that; he'd come here to spend time with Phoenix, just the two of them, and to try not to think of that third presence that was so sorely missed when they were alone.

He only nodded at Phoenix's prompt, obediently following directions and letting the other man take the lead, sitting where he was directed to sit, and waiting patiently for his friend to join him. There was no better outcome than the one he was faced with; having Phoenix now settled gently on his lap, leaned against him with one arm around his neck, was the best position he could imagine. He grinned broadly in approval, and rested his beer on the arm of the sofa, his hand holding it upright. His free arm looped around Phoenix's back, settled with his hand cupped around his side, administering a little squeeze at his words.

"Impossible," he insisted, putting on a parody of a grave expression, "You're light as a feather." A moment later, he grinned, stretched his neck and pressed a kiss to Phoenix's jaw, just by his chin. When he pulled back, the grin had intensified, though it faltered slightly a moment later, when the gruff sound of a man's voice made its way into his ear.

The first word was 'fucking', the other 'fags,' spoken in a scoff, tinted with disgust, and was unmistakeable. Coolly, Cooper arched a brow and turned his head to look behind him and to the side at the man sitting in a different sofa group, accompanied by what seemed to be a collection of his finest lumberjacks. (To Cooper, it was most unfortunate. He did so appreciate a man in a plaid shirt, which made it such a disappointment when the wearers of said shirts were absolute cunts.) "Baby," he declared, his accent thickening with every word he spoke, "If this here looks like fucking to you, I pity your goddamn existence." If he wasn't himself, he would have stopped there. But as Fate would have it, Cooper was very much himself in every way, and so it was natural that he wouldn't, and probably couldn't, leave it at that. A salacious grin spread across his lips. "I'd be happy to fill that gap in your education, though." He winked, for the time-being ignoring the expressions that flashes onto the faces of the group of men his addressee was in - those expressions that spoke of impending doom. "Pun intended."

[Phoenix Delafield]

Phoenix had a distinct preference when it came to choosing a seat. When presented with the option of settling onto the undoubtedly comfortable furnishing provided by the club, or the slightly more precarious position of Cooper’s lap, he would certainly always decide on the latter. The value of his choice was immediately supported by the arm which circled him, establishing a warm, firm clasp against his back and side. Smiling at his friend, Phoenix’s fingers of the arm looped around Cooper’s neck sought out a patch of bare skin, sliding underneath the collar if his shirt, stroking slowly at the warm skin he found there. “Flatterer.” Phoenix replied with a grin, as his worry of squashing was rebuked. He was certain that he was certainly heavier than a weight Cooper could comfortably support for a long period of time, so he would take advantage of it for as long as he was allowed without causing too much discomfort.

Engrossed in the kiss which was pressed to his jaw, practically preening under the attention directed his way, Phoenix hardly heard the harshly spoken words. He would have been inclined to ignore them, to pretend that they didn’t exist. Or perhaps he would have reacted, spoken out. However he would have reacted initially was largely irrelevant as Cooper picked up on what was said, and he knew that his friend would never let them get away with speaking in such a manner.

Lifting his eyes to look at the men who had spoken, Phoenix found them in his line of sight and focused on them briefly, enough to decide that he was happy to dismiss them. He had seen their type, more than once and no doubt he would see them again. Nuzzling into Cooper and forgetting that anyone else existed seemed like a much more preferable option to getting into an argument. Despite that assessment, he could hardly leave his best friend to confront them himself, and so he fixed each of the men at the table with an amused smile, observing the looks of outrage which formed on their features. He wondered what it was exactly that disturbed them so much, what terrible things they imagined would happen if they let Phoenix sit on Cooper’s lap, and Cooper press kisses to Phoenix’ jaw uninterrupted.

With a broadening smile, Phoenix nodded once as Cooper stopped speaking, displaying his agreement, a widening smile accompanying that gesture. “He’s a very good teacher, you know. The gaps he’s filled in my education...” He trailed off, letting that idea linger. “It was a very thorough teaching, too, with aids and demonstrations.” Warming to the subject, Phoenix shifted his hand, dipping his fingers into the hair at the back of Cooper’s head, running his hand through soft strands. “You should really take him up on that offer.” Phoenix added, with a smile, dipping his head deliberately to press a slow kiss to Cooper’s cheek, keeping his eyes on the men seated at the table as he did so, gaze transforming into one that was inviting and promising at once. A little skip of his heart beat, excitement and fear mingling, as one of the men stood up suddenly, accompanied by angry, disgusted words. More ‘fucking’ and more ‘fags’.

“I wish they would be a little more inventive with their insults.” Phoenix murmured against Cooper’s ear, observing the man, waiting to see if he would make good on the threat he implied with the rapid movement from sitting to standing. Currently one of his friends seemed to be trying to persuade him otherwise. Presumably one at least had sense enough to realised how quickly they would get chucked out of the club for fighting. “I think we might have stirred the beast.” He added, with a light giggle.

[Cooper Vale]

'Just let it go, Cooper.' He heard those words each time a situation similar to this one arose, echoing inside his head. A faithful drone, an amalgamation voices from various people from his life, all giving him the same advise. Let it go. But he'd used to let it go, before he'd found enough stability to trust himself, when he was trapped in a vortex that would have him hate himself. "Let it go," they said. "It's not worth it," they said, none of them acknowledging the unspoken, but prominent, implication of their statement: You're not worth it. Your life is not worth it. Your rights are not worth it. Your pride is not worth it. He'd agreed, once, in times he now felt it was best to forget and never again acknowledge. He no longer agreed.

Despite his smile and easy pose, sunk back into the couch with his friend on his lap and his arms around him, he felt tension build in warning in his shoulders, back and abdomen. He tried to keep it out of his arms, out of the hold he had on Phoenix, but he knew that he held on a little more firmly now; that his grip was no so tender as it was protective, not so affectionate as it was alarmed. His eyes didn't betray it as he looked over at the group of disgusted men, well-trained in the art of indifference, which he used when facing these types, these...dogs. But it almost faltered when Phoenix spoke.

Though he grinned and his eyebrow rose coolly as the kiss was pressed to his cheek, he felt his heart begin to race in warning and concern when one of the men sprang to his feet and barked insults at them. His grip tightened further, his protectiveness hitting its peak, and as the group tried to quell the anger of their enraged comrade, he lifted his hand to gently guide Phoenix's head to turn so he could meet his eyes. He smiled gently, the most relaxed and comforting smile he knew to produce, and ran his thumb tenderly over his cheek.

"I can take 'em," he promised with a light-hearted tone, grinning cheekily and offering him a wink. His fingers whispered across Phoenix's skin, hand coming to rest on his neck. "So if he decides to get a bite to match that bark of his, I want you to stand back and stay out of it, alright?" It was with the gentlest of smiles on his lips, an unspoken promise of everything turning out okay in the end, that he stretched his neck to press a light kiss to his friend's lips. Only after he'd done so did it become clear to him that this small gesture of affection was enough to enrage the stranger further; he roared where he stood, called them disgusting and some other things that Cooper chose not to acknowledge right now. He smiled again, and didn't turn away from Phoenix yet. "It might be best if you go get us a cab, darlin'." He shifted the other man off his lap, practically lifting him up with one arm around his back and the other under his knees, and setting him down gently in the empty space beside him on the couch. "I'll be right with you."

After a last wink, he turned his eyes away from him and stood to face his probable opponent, walking around the couch to place himself in the open. The man's friends began to silence their attempts to keep him calm. Soon, they'd have attracted the attention of club security. Cooper grinned. "So, it just gon' be you and me, or are your pretty little friends gon' join us, too?" His brow quirked again and he trudged on, purposefully adding a touch of salaciousness to his tone. "Personally, I don't mind group activities, but y'all might like things a little more...intimate." Clenching their jaws, two of the stranger's friends stood. Cooper was quite confident he would end up ignoring their advice to "shut his fucking mouth."

[Phoenix Delafield]

Considering how long Phoenix had been friends with Cooper he was aware of the older man’s tendency to get into the occasional disagreement. Phoenix himself liked to generally assume a policy of ignoring the problem until it went away, which it sometimes didn’t, but he didn’t allow that to change his approach. He would be a in real muddle if he lost his ability to ignore the things which otherwise might have him sobbing or yelling and making drastic decisions. Somewhere down the line he might have to deal with all the things he was ignoring, but he had decided that was for his future self to worry about. However, when he was with Cooper, that policy of ignoring went out the window, and he found himself joining in. It was either that or let Cooper handle it all himself, and Phoenix would never let that happen. If they were going to get beaten up they’d just have to do it together.

He felt Cooper’s arms tighten around him, and gripped his friend a little tighter in response. Looking into the other man’s mismatched eyes, Phoenix smiled at the caress applied to his cheek, and in contrast to the smile, shook his head as Cooper spoke. Leave him behind? Stay out of it? There was no way Phoenix could ever do that. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Cooper-love.” Phoenix replied, with a shake of his head. “I can be your fighting wing man.” He pointed out, grinning at the link between wing-man and his own name. It was meant to be, clearly. As Cooper kissed him, Phoenix gave a hum of pleasure, a noise in sharp contrast to the roar which came from behind him. “I don’t know what the big fuss is about. I thought it was quite a nice kiss.” He added, smirking lightly.

They had to move, though. It was inevitable, and he found himself deposited on the sofa and told to go and get a cab. Phoenix snorted softly at that. As though he could. Cooper was already moving, though, and Phoenix hopped to his feet, following after his friend. Not that he was eager to get beaten up; he really didn’t like getting hurt, and it wouldn’t be good for his job if he was all bruised. That only appealed to a certain type of client. Still, he stepped up next to Cooper and listened to the diatribe that followed. The salaciousness of Cooper’s reply seemed to be enough to commit two more to the cause and Phoenix tried not to think too much about how three against two was hardly a fair fight, and he really counted as half of one in a fight, so it was more like one and a half against three.

“Well that’s hardly polite.” Phoenix replied, definitely not shutting his mouth as the man had so kindly requested of Cooper. As they approached rapidly, Phoenix tried to size up his possible opponents, and hoped that the club security stepped in before he had to try to fight any of these men. He really didn’t think fighting any of them would end well for him, and he could feel the all too rapid beat of his heart and the heat on his skin confirming that. Still he couldn’t quite help himself from speaking again. “You should really take your own advice and shut that mouth of yours. Unless you’re willing to use it for something other than speaking.” Not the wisest thing to say on reflection, particularly as he found himself rapidly approached by a man who seemed much taller and broader up close.

“What did you say, fag?” The words were spat out on unpleasantly beery breath and accompanied by a finger jabbing hard into his chest. “I was just saying that there was better uses for a mouth than speaking.” Phoenix replied, all innocence and light as he looked at the man, who had stepped in so close. He had a sudden, ridiculous urge to lean in and kiss him, to see what kind of effect that might have. Instead he laughed softly, which elicited a look of pure outrage and Phoenix suddenly found his shirt being grabbed and his body being dragged in even closer than before. He couldn’t quite manage to balance himself and had to use his hands against the man’s shoulders to stay upright. “I’m going to kick your fucking skull in.” The man hissed, and Phoenix was inclined to believe him. Oddly he didn’t feel as scared as he thought he might in this situation. It was hardly the first time, after all, and he had always survived. “Watch out, you might catch something, this close.” Phoenix whispered in reply. Now he was ready to leave, he decided.