Title: A Venue Change
Author: Trowa B
Rating: FRM just to be safe...
Notes: For meredevachon's Little Black Dress from Oklahoma challenge, prompt 83: Leverage/Angel - Eliot/Spike - "No, really. Did you know it was a lesbian bar?"
Summary: "I don't remember this bar being like this..."
*****
Strapped as he was to the St Andrew's cross, Eliot nevertheless managed to find a little relief for the rapidly swelling cheekbone that the bleached blond in the long black leather jacket had punched him. He sighed.
"I think," he had started carefully, shaking his head to clear it slightly, "that I'm in the wrong place." He made a conscious effort not to react to the other man's strangely cool grip – he was over the first surprised reaction to being grabbed as he tried to chat with the pretty red-head at a table near the bar.
"No, really?" the man asked. "Did you know this was a lesbian bar?"
And Eliot really hadn't. The last time he had been in this neighbourhood – some three years previously – the bar had been one of his favourite hang-outs. No dress code, and only a loose checking of ID cards had ensured that he had been able to get in even when he was wanted by the police for questioning in a regrettable incident which had blown over when the police had discovered that the man who had been beaten half to death had been a purveyor of kiddie porn and the empty cage had held a young girl whose parents had later come forward.
The blond was back, he noted idly, and not with his clothes.
It had taken immense self control not to thump anyone when he had felt hands grabbing for his fly, but he had succeeded – Nate would be decidedly annoyed if he had to bail him because he had beaten up a group of women and that would be nothing compared to the ribbing he would receive from Hardison and Sophie, and trying to explain to Parker; well, that wasn't something he wanted to consider.
So he had let the gleeful group strip him and cuff him to the St Andrew's Cross on the stage – and yep, he was wishing he had scoped the place out first before making an assumption and wandering in – and really, they had been pretty nice about it. One woman had even made sure he had a safe word and had explained how to release the cuffs if he really, really had to, and so he felt pretty honour bound not to head for the hills.
Grinning broadly, the blond stepped in close, standing close enough for Eliot to be able to tell that he was no longer wearing a shirt, although the coolness he had felt in the man's hands seemed to pervade the rest of his body.
"You alright, pet?" the man asked, cigarette dangling from his lips.
Raising his head, removing his cheek from the wonderfully cool metal, he nodded carefully, gratified to feel no dizziness.
"Yeah. Sorry 'bout that. Couldn't have you upsettin' Red though. Buffy'd never forgive me." He waved off Eliot's quizzical expression. Anyway, the ladies say you've got a choice. You can get down now and go home, or you can help out with the entertainment and ya get your drinks on the house.
"An' that's a bloody good offer, mate. Cuz Liz, she don't offer free booze ta anyone."
Eliot narrows his eyes, studying the man. And yeah, there's something off about him, but not necessarily something bad. After a moment's consideration, he nods. "Sure. Free drinks sound good right 'bout now."
The man grins. "M' name's Spike," he introduces as he shucks out of his long leather jacket, revealing an icily pale, well muscled - if a little skinny – torso, and turns to pick up a whippy leather flogger with a sly look in Eliot's direction.
