Everyone goes to Rick's

A Revolution fic (No Blackout AU): Miles Matheson, Nora Clayton, Niles, Jeremy Baker. Rating M.

The near future and a lot has changed. The world has been at war for fifteen years and the seas are rising flooding coastlines and low lying communities, driving those who can afford it onto floating islands or secure, tech rich enclaves guarded by private armies. Those who don't have the resources manage as best they can in a world running out of everything, including hope.

Miles Matheson is done with fighting and has gone off the grid, running a bar in the gangland wastes of drowned Chicago. He thinks he's left the past behind. Then one night his ex girlfriend Nora Clayton walks into the bar with another face from his past, Jeremy Baker.

AN: This is for the OrgyArmada's 60 moods of summer' fic fest, it's taken me a while, but at least it's still summer! The prompts I've used are in the chapter titles, and I'm planning another two parts (I think). The story title is a quote from 'Casablanca' and that film also inspired some other parts of the story. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy…

Part one:

Your ex lover's lover. A dress.

Miles liked Friday nights, especially hot Friday nights. The bar was always full to bursting with thirsty punters, their money flowing like Niagara over the antique wooden bar.

He usually just sat back and watched it all happen from his private table at the back, and tonight he was enjoying a bottle of his private stash of single malt and some fine Mississippi blues. There were a lot of wandering musicians these days, playing for food and a dry bed and this guy was very good, in fact he was thinking about getting his own guitar out and joining in.

Tonight was going particularly well, with the usual crowd of regulars, Chicago natives mostly, hanging on in there, making the best of things. They seemed to like the pre-war retro, low-tech feel. There was a bubbling, rowdy hen's night party over in one corner, a few lonely travelling salesmen looking for love, some working girls and guys, ditto, and a quartet of rich gambling types on tour to experience the low life in Chicago and the other drowning cities in the good old US of A. Their guide and guards were some of his regulars of course. One of those win win situations.

The seas were rising and the whole world was at war but that hadn't stopped the tourists. Miles didn't care, their gold was real and they spent plenty of it...

He huffed, took a sip of his drink and sat back to watch the show, the familiar smooth bite of the whiskey welcome in his throat, the buzz of it hitting his brain even more welcome than that.

Just another Friday night…

Then he tensed, feeling eyes on him. Max, the seven-foot brick wall who worked the door on the weekends was waving over at him, his eyes darting back to a couple just coming in, a man and a woman, dressed like they were going to a party at the White house, their personal shields like glimmering Kirlian haloes.

Miles hissed in a breath when he saw who the hell it was, his whole body slamming to full alert. In all the fucking bars in all the world etc etc... Then he nodded an ok at Max, drained his glass and put it down, carefully. Real ones were hard to replace these days.

Nora Clayton and Jeremy Baker (what the fuck?) strolled towards him, gazing around and posing like rich fucking peacocks with Nora looking like something from one of his better dreams.

Every eye in the bar was fixed on them the minute they walked in, conversation rising to a confused, excited babble, the music drowned. Once they saw where the two exotic visitors were heading though there was a kind of universal shuffle of chairs and a respectful hush as everyone got back to attending to their own business, a ripple of hissed instructions passing round to those who didn't know the rules...

Rule number one was that the tall, dark and dangerous owner of Rick's didn't socialise with customers, although these particular punters were obviously kind of special…

Miles took a deep breath but kept his face calm, one hand carefully relaxed on the table, the other under it on his gun, just in case, his heart pounding as they got closer, although he knew it didn't show on the outside. 'Nice outfits you two, you're classing up the place, but you might as well turn the sparklers off, they won't work in here.'

A cloud of camera bugs popped into existence above Jeremy's head, tiny, swirling, green and bright.

Fucking Fireflies…

He flicked a glance up, 'neither will they'

The cloud vanished, the tiny green lights puffing out of existence leaving miniature crimson flashes on his retinas…

Nora watched them go, 'I wish I could make them do that, I thought we'd lost them on the way here, but they follow Jeremy round like little social page puppies…' Her lips were full and red, glossy with real lipstick, hair black and shining and piled high on her head with waves of it falling around her face and her skin gleaming like perfect coffee silk. The long black dress she was almost wearing was cut so low at the front Miles knew she couldn't be wearing anything underneath, and her long silver necklace shimmered between her breasts, rising and falling with her breath…

His fingers gripped the edge of the table. God, he'd almost forgotten how beautiful she was, and that dress looked like it was begging to be ripped off…

'So why don't they work in here?' She was right in front of him now, taller than he remembered in those high, fuck me shoes, her perfume musky, exotic. She was glad to see him too. He could smell it, although she and Jeremy fucking Baker could have just had a quick fuck on the way here. The thought of that made jealousy burn red tangles in his belly, made the whiskey taste sour in his throat. Fuck.

Jeremy was just behind her, alert, checking the place out. Looming blond and pale in a perfectly cut, perfectly black suit, his lips twisted in that familiar lopsided smile, his eyes the blue of poker chips. The eyes had focused on an oval, silver pendant round Miles' neck, 'That's nice, not your usual style though…' he glanced around the room, then back again. 'Love the candles too… So whatever it is just works in the bar?'

Miles shrugged, an eyebrow lifting. 'Something like that, it's just a gimmick really, nothing special… a present from Ben. Helps me keep the riff raff out, although it does have its limitations.' He held two fingers up at Jim, got a nod back then spread his hands out wide. 'Anyway, welcome to Rick's, pull up a seat,'

Jeremy dragged a couple of chairs over from the next table, held one out for Nora then sat down.

Nora's dress rustled as she sat, the necklace catching in the tempting hollow between her breasts. She adjusted it, her fingers slim, strong, her cheeks flushed... 'It's good to see you, Miles'.

Shit, having her this close was already driving him crazy… Miles watched her hand, remembering the feel of her skin, the honey sweet softness just where the necklace rested, his lips, tongue and cock remembering the taste of the tender flesh around her nipple as he played there, the slick, delicious softness between her legs, the heat from their bodies filling a cheap hotel room on weekend furlough, the wet, urgent sounds of flesh in flesh still alive in his ears.

She'd been smooth, lithe, writhing and totally fucking gorgeous lying there in that big bed. Fuck, in any bed... He cleared his throat and shifted on his seat, dick twitching and his pants getting tight. He ignored it, for now anyway. 'Yeah, it's good to see you too, even you Jer… '

Jeremy shrugged, an eyebrow twitching.

Miles leaned closer, keeping his voice low. 'I'm not even going to ask how you found me, but why now?' His eyes raked Nora's shoulders, her face, 'and why are you dressed up like you're going to some fancy fucking party instead of the boondocks?'

She twitched a shoulder and licked her lips, leaning towards him, her voice soft and as low as his and a hand reaching over to pat his cheek. 'Hiding in plain sight, Miles. We're just tourists looking for a thrill in the wilds of Chicago. Like I said, the fireflies follow our favourite VR star Jeremy everywhere.' She grinned, 'everywhere but here apparently.'

Jeremy shrugged again. Not even blushing, 'the price of fame, I guess.'

Miles choked off a laugh, her fingers feeling hot on his skin, like brands. 'Yeah, whatever.'

She let go, sat back, smiling as the barman brought over a tray with a bottle of the good stuff and two clean glasses, both of his hands glinting metallic silver in the candlelight. Nora carefully avoided looking at those. 'Hi Jim, how are you?'

Jim Hudson smiled back at her, his teeth very white against his dark skin, 'Much better than I was. It's good to see you again, Nora,' he put the tray down and glanced at Jeremy, his eyes measuring, speculative, 'Jeremy'.

Jeremy nodded, 'Hi Jim'

The dark eyes swept back to Nora. 'You're flying high these days.'

She shrugged, 'just trying to keep my head above water.'

'Aren't we all…' He put the bottle and glasses on the table in front of Miles, 'you want anything else, Boss?'

Miles shook his head, 'nah, thanks Jim,' he looked up, 'tell Max to close up would you? No one else comes in tonight.'

'You got it…' he picked up the tray, nodded at Nora then left.

Miles picked up the bottle and poured a round, 'So how's Bass?'

Jeremy shrugged, he looked just as Miles remembered, a little leaner maybe, his face vid star smooth except for the designer stubble. 'Oh, you know, doing what Senators do, talking a lot, kissing ass, making blond, curly haired babies for the war effort...' He reached for his glass and took a sip. 'People say he's going to give Davis a run for his money in this election'

Miles snorted. 'President Monroe? Bass'll love that, hell, maybe he'll even do some good...' He tossed back his drink and reached for the bottle, pouring himself another. 'So why pick my bar to be tourists in?'

Nora took a deep breath, 'I need your help.'

He sat back, fingers playing with his glass, his other hand back hovering near his gun in a kind of reflex. 'And what makes you think I'd want to help you?'

She leaned forward, holding his gaze, hers hard, angry. 'You owe me, Miles, you know what for...'

Jeremy put a hand on her arm. 'Just tell him, Nora…'

She heaved a breath out, 'It's Mia. She's gone, left her unit. I think she's joined the rebels.'

Miles looked at her for a long moment, ran a hand over his face and rubbed his eyes. 'Not here,' He stood up, 'Nora, come with me.'

Jeremy frowned, holding on to Nora's arm as she started to get up, 'hold on, she's not going anywhere in this shit hole without me.'

Two pairs of dark eyes turned to him.

Nora shook her arm free, 'don't be ridiculous, Jeremy'

'I know her, in every fucking sense of the word,' Miles stared down at him, 'I don't think I know you any more.'

Nora frowned, impatient. 'Miles. Come on...'

He nodded, slowly, still staring at Jeremy. 'You. Stay here. I'll know if you don't and so will Jim' his lips twisted in a kind of smile, 'and as you might have noticed, his hands do work in here.'

….

AN: Thanks so much for reading, and I hope you're enjoying the story so far. Please let me know what you think if you have a minute Part 2: Lust, and Part 3: Don't look away will be up soon. Cheers, Magpie