Future

Disclaimer: don't own

Notes: Day 14 of the 30 Day Cheesy Tropes Challenge by ghiraher on tumblr: stripper au


Reo swipes some extra mascara onto his lashes and stares woefully at his hair; he's gotten a request and it's simply too greasy today and even in the dark this customer will probably notice anyway—Makoto shoves him toward the door and slams it behind him and Reo feels his face molding into that automatic sultry grin as he sashays over to Akashi's table.

"Sei-chan," he coos, sliding onto the table and batting his eyes.

"Reo," Akashi says, eyes gleaming like the garish oversized pieces of quartz in Reo's ear.

Reo fumbles with his collar, not breaking eye contact with Akashi, and Akashi sips his drink.

"Thirsty?" Reo purrs.

"Quite," says Akashi. "Shall we go to the back room?"

He's already paid off the bouncers and the guards today; he lightly swipes his thumb across Reo's ass as they walk across the dim room and sticks by; he's so close Reo can smell the barely-there expensive cologne on him even in here.

The thump of the bass is still audible in the back room but they're alone other than the club guards and Akashi's bodyguard; by this point Reo's become so desensitized to their presence that it barely matters. He sits on Akashi's lap and begins to gyrate to the sleazy lounge music that suddenly fills the speakers and lets Akashi dictate the situation. He's a good customer not only because of his good manners and generosity but because he's easy to please and direct; he tells Reo exactly what to do but none of his instructions are hard or outlandish. He says the word for the next button to drop and he likes it slow and steady. Reo finally lets his shirt fall and begins to fuss with his belt when Akashi says the word. It doesn't hurt that whenever he's dancing for him it feels like he's the center of Akashi's universe—all men are liars; Reo's a professional one after all, but Akashi's especially good at it.

He stuffs some extra money into Reo's waistband and pats him on the ass as he exits the room; all in all not a bad way to kill time at work. He passes Kotarou on the way back and gets pulled into dancing together for a sleepy old man with a half-drunk smile on his face; he pats them on their heads when they're done and tells them they're good boys and doesn't tip well but at least their shift is ending and they head back to the dressing room together.

Teppei and Eikichi have already ditched what remained of their firefighter outfits; for guys as ripped as them that's one of the only themes they can really do and they do it well together (it's a particular hit among younger guys, first-timers who get their fixes when and where they can from their mom's old Playgirl magazines). Makoto is fixing his hair in the mirror and Reo has told him a million times he'd be so much more attractive if he just smiled (unfortunately the brooding emo type is quite popular). Reo and Kotarou quickly find their street clothes and get dressed and they all file out together discussing the day's work. Makoto's had a particularly long session with the customer he refuses to admit is his favorite, a rich suit-type who falls asleep in his beer but might even have more money than Akashi does so he gets a free pass and who according to Eikichi talks politics with Makoto for extra tips—he must be especially lonely, then. And what is such a book-smart guy like Makoto doing making a living as a dancer in a club, anyway, when he can do so much better? They fall silent as they make their way out into the night and back to the apartment they share between the five of them.


Makoto stuffs all the tips into the jar and hands it back to Teppei.

"We aren't that much closer to getting the hell out of here," Makoto says. "Seriously, you have to pick up the pace."

"Well that greasy guy's tips when you're just talking with him can't pay as well as giving some other guy services," says Eikichi.

"Excuse me? I wasn't the one gathering lousy tips onstage tonight. I bet I made more money in ten minutes of talking to him than you did all night."

"Funny how you just pooled everything from the get-go," says Eikichi.

"Guys, guys!" Reo moves in between them; Eikichi may have several kilograms of muscle on him but Makoto's tough too and neither of them will back down easily—although Reo frankly doesn't know how they have enough energy left to be this on edge.

"Let's just stick this out for as long as it takes," says Reo. "Okay?"

"But what are we going to do when we leave?" says Kotarou, half-ignoring him.

"Something respectable," says Makoto.

"We'll start a bakery; Reo can make food and we can sell it," says Eikichi.

"Hey, I didn't agree to any of this," says Reo.

"Well think of something better. We'll have the money soon," says Eikichi.

"I'll miss Sei-chan, though," says Reo.

"I'd miss making as much from him in a day as I do sometimes," says Eikichi.

"How could you say such a thing?"

"Reo, he's a customer; he just wants dirty things from your beautiful body," says Makoto with a dramatic wave of his arm. "As if I'd say that shit, idiot."

"You're missing the point!"

Teppei pats Reo's shoulder.

"I get what you're saying, Reo-nee. I'll miss some things, too, but we'll still have each other, right? We won't have to dance with slimy, stingy old guys or have bills thrown at us. We could settle down, raise families, complain to our neighbors about filing taxes."

Reo sighs as Kotarou hugs him; they're all right, of course. He might as well savor the good memories and keep them around; no matter how polite or wealthy he is Akashi is part of another world, and he is really just another customer. He goes home to his mansion and whatever kind of gourmet tea or coffee he wants already served on a tea tray and Reo goes home to this tiny apartment and fixes decaf Folgers for his friends and they pile on the couch to watch bad TV. When Reo comes back from putting the dishes in the sink they're all asleep already, Kotarou and Makoto leaning against Eikichi and Teppei sprawled out next to them. He fits himself comfortably between Teppei's legs and leans against his chest; they may be stuck here but at least they're all together.