Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters, although I wish I did. Repeat. These characters are not mine.
Just Another Night
He'd come here to get away from that insect with red eyes and an irritating laugh. And because he lost his job. Coincidentally, that same insect had also been the reason he'd lost it. There had just happened to be an opening at a club, called Escapade, and he'd taken it with relish. As far as he could tell, this was one of the easiest jobs he'd ever had. Not many people came to the Escapade regularly, and business was easy and enjoyably slow.
That night had been the same as all of the other twenty (he counted, he wanted to show his brother he wasn't a failure), involving him serving drinks to any customer that asked for one - and when he was asked by a voice that was different than the others - younger, definitely younger - he'd thought nothing of it, getting out a glass and putting it on the counter. "And what'll you..." he trailed off, staring.
It was an androgynous boy, obviously too young to be where he was right now, and he was dressed in a school uniform, a short sleeved white shirt with a neck ribbon and slacks. Shizuo could tell he was definitely male, but there was a distinct epicenity to his features that had him wondering. And his hair, an odd grayish blue, something he'd only seen on models and women; the style itself was nothing special, though, even if it reminded him of his brother. "Aren't you a little young to be here?"
The boy didn't seem to want to meet Shizuo's eyes (or talk), so Shizuo shrugged. To hell with it. It wasn't his fault if the boy got drunk and got hit by a car on the way home. "You can stay, just don't cause any trouble." The boy nodded, meeting Shizuo's eyes momentarily, dove-grey eyes conveying a silent 'thanks.' They were unusually expressive, for a teenager.
He faded into the crowd, and Shizuo returned to cleaning glasses and serving drinks, all the while smoking one cigarette after another. The night dragged on, and on, and on. He cleaned on glass after another, wipe, wipe, clink. Wipe, wipe, clink. Wipe. Wipe. Clink. He was bored. So bored, in fact, that he couldn't really be angry about being bored; it was a bone-deep numbness that turned him into slow-moving sludge.
More time dragged, inched, crawled by on one working arm. Shizuo slowly became aware of a disturbance up in the more private area of the bar, or nightclub, or whatever the hell people called it nowadays. Thinking back on the boy –who looked like his brother (if only because of the eyes that said everything for him, and his calm silence) – Shizuo thought that it might be good to check on him.
It turned out to be simply Mutatsu, laughing, a rasp in his voice, as the same androgynous boy uncertainly at first drank part of a shot before downing the rest of it all in one go. Shizuo had to roll his eyes. What the fuck did the boy think he was doing? Taking a look at his watch, Shizuo murmured 'shit' under his breath. It was nearing eleven o' clock, and the boy's appearance was making this awkward. He could have been his brother, for all he knew, and that made him worry even though he shouldn't, really.
As the crowd began to disperse because of his no-doubt-Godly presence, he went over to the boy. The boy's grey eyes were glazed, and he seemed more off-kilter than would warrant a shot. "Shit," Shizuo said again. "You're pretty stupid," he muttered, slipping an arm around the boy to haul him up. The idiot stood there for a moment, eyes unnaturally wide, before slumping back against the back of the couch, licking his lips. Obviously, not someone who could hold their alcohol.
"Stand up this time, will you?" Shizuo told him, hauling the boy up again. His new drunk companion remained steadily silent, not really giving any indication he'd heard, and staggered. "Oh, hell no," Shizuo growled, grabbing his upper arm – he was thin, too – to keep him steady.
On the way to the car, Shizuo was forced to keep constant watch over his new drunk companion to make sure he didn't fall and break something. At this hour, dumping someone so innocent looking in the street made him cringe (it was too cold) so the only option would be to take him home. It took Shizuo a moment and some concentration and patience to get the epicene boy into the car, but he got him in there all the same.
In the car, it was much of the same thing. Shizuo, pulling up to his temporary apartment, led the boy by the arm up the stairs, and when he fell over and refused to get up, carried him up the stairs. "Goddammit," he murmured, "Fuck." Unlocking the door, he dumped the kid unceremoniously down on the couch in front of the TV and sat down himself, reaching for the remote so he could turn the TV on.
Moments later, he felt a movement from beside him, and the boy slid up against him, eyes closed, sleeping. Shizuo stared at him for a moment, incredulous. Then he shoved the boy off – gently, of course – and folded his arms, a wordless barrier. Soon enough, though, he felt the heat of the other body shift against him, and yet again he moved the body. And again, it came, this time to flop over his lap. Giving up, he folded his arms. "I don't give a shit," he told the empty air, trying to convince someone who wasn't there. He could just pretend he was his brother, he'd had to do this before for Kasuka.
They stayed like that until morning, and even Shizuo eventually fell asleep – when eleven o' clock hit, they awoke entangled together after a night of trying to stay as warm as possible. They both blushed, and after a few awkward moments, Shizuo asked: "D'you need a shower, or something?"
A/N:
Yeah, so. I don't know where this came from. I just saw the bartender in Persona 3 and my brain went "Aha!" and then never let the idea go. So this happened. Don't kill me, please.