Title: Until Further Noticed
Summary: "Virgin becomes whore. God becomes slave. Fantasy bleeds possibility…" But when all the pretty words fade away, all that remains is venality. –A Co-authored ficlet between MyMello'sMatty and CheshireEffect.
Disclaimer: I don't own DN or anything referenced. I do credit myself for wordplay and Hell's Incarnate. Half of this fic is done by CheshireEffect, so half the credit goes to her for being bitchingly awesome.
Author's Note: This is a 50/50 thing between MyMello'sMatty and CheshireEffect. Chapter length will vary. Enjoy.
…
Virgin becomes whore.
God becomes slave.
Fantasy bleeds possibility.
These are the words etched upon the crumbling exterior of a rundown library –carved into the splintered planks by a common streetwalker with a pocket knife. Said streetwalker's red hair took on a deeper auburn hue as he wandered past old fashioned arc lamps on his journey the very place he could be found any other Friday night.
He took a deep shuttering breath as he entered Hell's Incarnate –a local pub and second home for the redhead. The intoxicating scents of whiskey and tobacco burned his nostrils and poached his throat, but he was used to it by now. Fuck, even the bad lighting and crackling jukebox seemed comforting.
He progressed through the crowd and made his way to the bar, taking a seat on an empty stool. As per usual, all the regulars patted him on the back or ruffled his hair and offered slurred greetings, though the redhead never responded with anything more than a fake smile and a half-hearted wave.
A sly woman approached, busty chest soaked and nipples perky from a wet t-shirt contest. "Matty, can I sit on your lap? I'll buy you a drink." She winked in an attempt to be enticing, but her allure was completely ignored.
Instead, the redhead's attention was focused on the man behind the counter, trying to keep up with customers while cleaning dirty shot glasses. "Need any help, Uncle Lou?" he asked –though, the man wasn't really his uncle.
The man addressed as Lou offered a chortle that shook his boasting belly; then he made an ambiguous gesture to affirm.
Matt wasted no time hopping over the counter and grabbing the washcloth and shot glass from the hefty man and taking over the cleaning duties while Lou prepared a Martini.
"Thanks for helping out, Matt," said the tender, trading the dainty drink for cash.
To this the redhead shrugged nonchalantly. "No problem, Lou. I don't mind." He continued to wipe the glasses clean and set them on a shelf nearby.
"Still having trouble at home?" Lou asked, pouring a glass of bourbon and sliding it towards a customer.
Matt nodded but said nothing.
They continued to work in a surprisingly comfortable silence before Lou retrieved a few quarters from the tip jar and dropped them into Matt's hand. "Go pick something on the jukebox; I'll have a drink for you when you come back. You need to unwind a little."
Wordless, Matt took the long way around the counter and to the back of the bar, slipping the coins into the lighted jukebox and running through the music choices. He eventually settled on Just Go (Never Look Back) by Papa Roach. He headed back towards the bar and took a seat on a stool once more.
"Feelin' down, are ya?" Lou offered a small smile and placed a drink in front of the redheaded 17 year old.
The redhead shrugged and claimed the drink, taking a sip and grimacing. "Is there Kahlua in this?"
Lou's smile cracked into a grin, revealing yellow teeth with prominent gaps. "It's a White Russian; of course it has Kahlua."
Matt set his drink back down and sighed heavily; he kept his fingers folded 'round the glass as he leaned toward the counter. "I don't like Kahlua…" he grumbled before paying more attention to the song as it played out. He soon began to bob his head and lip synch the chorus.
A seemingly disembodied hand gripped his shoulder and spun him around, causing him to spill his drink all over him. He glared at the perpetrator with all the malice he could muster.
The antagonist turned out to be a young, sexy, blonde who was soaked in leather and sporting a pair of soul-searching blue eyes. "I couldn't help noticing your distaste for White Russians," he drawled in a low sultry voice. "I'd like a chance to change your mind," he added, leaning close and giving his best sex eyes.
The redhead looked him over and deliberated his options; he was about to flip off the blonde and head around back for a smoke, but something about the blonde's eyes (and sexy leather-bound ass!) told him to reconsider. Fuck it, he thought, giving the blonde a smile. "You can try to change my mind" he said, allowing the leather-clad man to grab him by the wrist and pull him away from the bar.
…
/Short chapter, but there's more to come. Promise. Review./