LICKER IN THE FRONT…POKER IN THE REAR
Poker was a man's game.
It took a great deal of skill and finesse to finagle another person out of her their hard earned money. He was playing in the Casino Royale and what choices he made here, would determine if he ended up wearing cement boots at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean. He knocked an ash off his cigar, eyeing his opponent with a careful and practiced eye. The dude had a tell, an obvious one, his left eye would twitch.
"I'm all in," He pushed his chips to the center of the table. And James Bond was nodding in approval somewhere.
"He is so going to fold," He muttered it, drawing the attention of his companion. She was a lovely thing with shiny red hair and big blue eyes. "Look at his eye twitch."
"Oh my god, dude, he can't help it. He has a lazy eye."
And there went his poker skills. He went from thinking he was hot shit to realizing he was betting a weeks' worth of pay on a dude with a muscle spasm. In terms of face palm moments, it ranked right up there with the time he'd asked out Cindi Guestetti in front of his entire eighth grade class and she'd not only turned him down, she'd pointed out all the Cheetos he currently had had trapped in his braces and that his fly was unzipped. Somewhere, Cindi Guestetti was still laughing.
Lazy Eye dropped his hand on the table: A Full House.
A full fucking house. A moment before he'd been Uncle Jessie – all suave charm and good looks. Now he was Uncle Joey – two bad jokes, a terrible haircut and one bad date away from being the subject of a horribly embarrassing chic hate rock anthem. A Full House indeed.
He threw out some language that would have made Bob Saget, but definitely not Danny Tanner, proud. His companion chuckled, delighted.
Wasn't it bad enough his date for poker night was his own damn sister? Did it have to be coupled with the complete loss of every one of his chips to a facial spasm? Lord. Some dudes had no luck at all.
NAME: Christopher Redfield
Age: 40..ish
Weight: 216 lbs (most of it muscle, some of it nachos and beer)
Occupation: Butt of the Joke (definitely NOT James Bond)
Claire let out a loud and wonderful snort. She was so amused that she needed to put her face against his arm to gather herself. Surely, she figured, someone in this damn casino was having a better night than her brother. Surely. Right?
On the other side of the casino, the man sitting at the Black Jack table was having a better night. This was his game. He was flawless at it, flawless at most things it would seem, and able to endure great amounts of torture and pain while getting there.
What was there to be said about this man? He was handsome, he was charismatic, he was articulate and sincere and could dance, shoot, and fight like a champ. He closed one eye to focus on the far wall. It would appear he was also? Pretty fucking drunk.
Name: Leon S. Kennedy
Age: 30..ish
Weight: 165 (at the start of the day before binging)
Occupation: Drunk and determined
He glanced up at the rest of the table. They were waiting for him to make his move. So, he looked at his cards. A Queen and an Ace in the hole. Naturally. He had pristine luck. He kept his face blank, flicked the ash off his cigarette, and said, "I'll hold."
The woman next to him giggled. He glanced at her and winked. She winked back. It wasn't a bad night. He was impressive, he was winning, and he was here to watch a good friend get married. It was a good night.
The dealer flipped their cards: 18. Boom. Win.
"Winner!" They slid the chips toward him. He winked at the girl and reached to get them. And this perfect and handsome man? Well he tipped his chair too far back and went down. Just like that. He was flat on his ass staring up at the ceiling.
And it was obvious what was missed in the first description of him. He was handsome, charismatic, and articulate and could dance, shoot, and fight like a champ…he was also? Notoriously clumsy.
He thought back to when he'd survived the Ganado in Spain. Skill? Nope. Sheer dumb luck. He had fallen into the pit and gotten lucky that he didn't die. He'd fallen asleep in that cabin and gotten lucky he didn't die. He'd gotten lucky that Krauser had tripped on the roof and he'd knifed him in the chest to kill him. He'd gotten lucky his girlfriend had dumped him and left him high and dry and he'd been late to work that first night in Raccoon. Or else? He'd have died in the RPD with the rest of the cops.
He was always getting lucky. But he was also always tripping over his feet.
Surely, someone, somewhere in this damn casino was having a better night that he was.
A beautiful face appeared above him, eyes twinkling. She had the red hair of a siren and the smile of a mischievous little sprite. She was here to bring her humor around them both like a big hug.
Name: Claire Redfield
Age: Old enough to know better, young enough to do it anyway
Weight: 120 (that's her story and she's sticking to it)
Occupation: Shit Disturber (Also hopeless bearer of unrequited love)
"Well hiya handsome, having some trouble?"
With one eye squinty and his much touted fan favorite hair falling around his head like he'd taken a hard punch to the face, Leon answered, "It would appear that I am inebriated."
"Looks that way. Need some help up?"
"If you would, please, madam."
Chortling, Claire put a hand down to pull on his. He came up and stumbled. Claire put her hand on his arm to stop him from face planting into the fern beside him. His hand slid over her shoulder and landed smack dab in the center of her boob.
She twisted her mouth with amusement. Leon blinked and swayed.
He did not move his hand.
Claire laughed, drolly, "Hey pal?"
"Hmm?"
"How about you buy me a drink before you get handsy?"
Leon snorted and hooked his arm around her shoulders. She clung, a little too hard, against his side as they walked. Yep. Unrequited love. It was a bitch ass mutha fucker. It was her constant curse.
But?
She bore it well.
And?
She took advantage when she could.
Her hand slid down and into the pocket of his jeans, cupping his butt. There was a but in there sure…but there was also Leon's butt and that was worth the silent loving. She rubbed a little since she was pretty sure he was shit faced and wouldn't care and wondered if it went against the buddy rules to take advantage of his wasted state to invite herself back to his room and rape him.
Probably there was a rule somewhere that said that was bad. If she was a man and did that? Lord, the world would uproar. Being a girl, she could probably pull it off and not get shamed. Probably.
Maybe.
Definitely maybe probably.
They found Chris fleeing the scene of his regrettable loss at poker. The dealer was giving him a distinctive and discerning dark look. Claire said, out of the corner of her mouth, "Did you mention his lazy eye to him?"
Chris looked red face and angry. "No…not exactly. Not on purpose."
"Time to go." Claire gestured with her head at their fourth member of this hapless band of heroes.
She was in a blue sparkling short little dress with more cleavage than mortal man deserved. Her blonde hair waved around her head in curls and glory. She was also fending off the advances of two very amorous beaus at the bar.
Name: Jillian Valentine (formerly legally she wasn't Jill anymore - thanks Wesker)
Age: Undisclosed (40 probably but she looked 25 which pissed off all over women)
Weight: 115 (According to her license)
Occupation: Object of unrequited love (The Redfield's loved the wrong people –obviously)
She hurried toward them, eagerly. "Hey hey hey! Ready to run? I need to get away from those eager beavers over there. Seriously. No means no right?"
Chris eyed them angrily. "I'll make them back the fuck off for you. You want me to punch them in the face?"
She laughed with delight and kissed his mouth, softly, "No. Big hero. But let's go find you a boulder to assault instead huh?"
Leon piped up, looking enthusiastic, "This is Vegas."
Chris raised both brows into his hairline and drawled, "Yessss. Annnnd?"
"…this is the mecca of strip clubs and casinos. Let's show these ladies a good time."
Jill squeaked a little with excitement, "Oh god. Oh my god. Claire – there's an all male review down the road. These two handsome fellas are just drunk enough to make it fun."
Claire had shifted her hand from the pocket of Leon's pants into his actual pants. She was currently rubbing his bare booty. She was not at all interested in anything but that. He was watching her profile and swaying.
Claire turned innocent eyes up to him. "What?"
He narrowed his peepers at her, "You feeling me up?"
Claire looked at him with pure innocence. "No. How drunk are you?"
He shrugged. Claire put her nails into his cheek and had him jumping, and he glanced back at her. "….tease."
She giggled a little and had him grinning.
Jill looped an arm around Chris' waist. He cuddled her against his big side.
Four people: none of them sleeping with each other, all of them friends since the dawn of time, and two of the four of them hopelessly in love with the other one: A mess on a good day.
Also the bonds of a lifetime of devotion and respect.
Chris laughed, curling one of those enormous guns of his around the girl beside him, "Let's do it. Kennedy you wanna see male strippers?"
Claire swirled her groping hand around to his hip, stroking the soft skin. He couldn't look away from her profile. What was she doing there? Messing him because he was drunk?
Was she aware that a man was still a man even when intoxicated?
She kept playing at his body like that and he was going to grope her back. He felt he should warn her.
Instead, he answered, "Why not? A brutha needs to eat after all. Let's go donate to a poor kid stripping his way through college. Maybe we'll fund the next Surgeon General."
Jill chortled, "So giving money to strippers is a public service?"
Leon nodded wisely, "Naturally. Every stripper is a genius just trying to get an education."
Chris guffawed. Claire slid that groping hand passed Leon's hip and brushed passed the elastic of his waist band to touch his thigh.
Yeah, he thought, she was fucking with him. He needed to return the favor.
Jill and Chris moved to hail a cab and Leon put his mouth beside the ear of the other Redfield, "My dick is two inches to the left. Just sayin."
Claire leaned back to see his face. He didn't look away. He swayed a little, where he was braced against her, but he didn't look away. She pursed her lips. He arched his left eyebrow.
A challenge?
Yep. A challenge.
Claire answered, coolly, "Hmm. What's the point here?"
Leon smirked a little, "Shift your hand and find out."
Cocky little thing that he was, Claire kept her eyes on his face and shifted her hand. Her fingers brushed his junk and her eyes widened a little. He laughed, watching her face redden, and replied, "Yep. You've been rubbing at me for a half an hour, pal. That's what happens when you rub on a guy."
Claire licked her lips. He watched her. He felt it and drunk as a skunk or not, he saw all the signs of her arousal. He was trained to see it. He was trained to watch for it. He could see her eyes dilate and her breathing get raspy. He shifted his hips and her fingers slid completely against his erection.
She whispered, softly, "….who's the tease now?"
Leon grinned at her, scanning her face as they waited in the warm air for the cab that Chris and Jill were failing at hailing.
Chris was flashing his leg like a sexy little thing, but sadly it wasn't getting any whistles or cabs. Jill was laughing so hard at him she was having trouble standing up. She clutched at him and he tugged her into him to hug.
Leon watched his face while he did it and saw the flash.
Ah.
The big goofball loved the former thief. There it was on his ugly face. He cupped her butt while he hugged her and she leaned back to smack his arm but she looked so happy.
Interesting.
Leon glanced back at Claire's face. Lots of interesting things happening here, he thought. Lots and lots of them.
He leaned a little bit toward her and said, softly, "Claire?"
She slid her fingers against his eager body and had him grinning slyly. "Hmm?"
"….what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas."
Claire licked her mouth again, drawing his eyes to it. She turned a little into his body to look like she was hugging him but her hand slid around his happy erection and tugged.
His arms slid around her to hold her against him and he grunted, watching her face.
She whispered, quietly, "We should take another cab."
Leon laughed and hadn't ever agreed with anything more.
It was going to be the best night ever.
End Note:
This is a nonsense tale. You won't find zombies and quests to save the world here. You won't find anything but a couple of men, a couple of women, a single night in Vegas, and the beginning of a series of unfortunate events. You may find bad humor and sex and too much alcohol. You may find a trip the dentist, a strip club for the ladies, a taxi ride that ends in a mess and two people lost in the Taj Mahal. It's hard to say.
Inspired by and dedicated entirely to The Lady Frost. She read it and told me to put it up here. It's her fault if it sucks.