A/N: I have a report I should be writing for work and music I should be writing for school. But instead, I'm writing slash at 4 in the morning. Explain THAT. I extend my thanks to Sabé for at least the beginnings of this story. (It started as an RP that she really didn't want to continue because she feels it's incestuous to RP anything worse than flirting with me.) She may kill me for posting this as a fic. That's a risk I'm willing to take, lol. Enjoy…
Red, blue, orange, green, pink -- the lights flashed to the beat of the music over Glitter's head. Standing on a pedestal and wrapped around a brass pole above the pulsing sea of dancers, Glitter danced to one of his favorite songs: Sarina Paris's club standard "Look at Us." Glitter wasn't his real name, of course, but he didn't like all the strangers and admirers to be calling him Evan Morishita. He took the nickname because of his appearance: colorful makeup to match whatever color his hair happened to be that week (pink and blue at the moment), infused with iridescent glitter painted in intricate patterns across his face and sprinkled liberally in his hair. The makeup and glitter accented his already-exotic appearance; his half-Japanese heritage gave him the characteristic mixed look and allure of his kind, and his allure was even more entrancing than that of most.
He danced sensuously to the pounding beat, his fluid motions accenting one of his favorite dance melodies. Even though he was clad only in a thong and a pair of pink and blue wings, the heat was almost unbearable. The hundreds of sweaty bodies packed into the underground club resonated a nearly intolerable warmth, and as soon as the song was done, he walked along the catwalk joining his pedestal to the main stage and went into the dressing room for a break.
Flopping into his seat before the vanity, he started at his reflection in the mirror. He grinned at the sexual deity staring back at him, with pink and blue eyeshadow painted in plumes on his face to match his wings and glitter now covering his torso, shaken from his hair by his wild dancing.
Five minutes and a bottle of cold water rejuvenated him sufficiently to return and face the throng. He stepped back into the sweltering basement to catcalls and a smattering of applause, nearly but not quite drowned out by the new song the DJ was spinning. He started dancing again, making eye contact with each onlooker just long enough to make him feel special. "Hah," Evan thought. "Right." He sighed inwardly; one more hour of dancing before he was off for the night. The sigh wasn't for the dancing, though; on the contrary, he loved it. He just knew that this week's paycheck would hardly make a dent in the three months of overdue rent he had to pay. Tonight, Glitter was counting on another one of his side jobs. He only hoped he'd be able to pick someone up for the night. "Hell," Glitter mused, "even a girl would be fine tonight. God knows I need the money…" He swished his hips for one particularly enthusiastic young man in black leather before spinning around the pole to entertain someone else.
In the back of the club, Jacob Montale stood against the wall with a scowl resolutely carved into his features. "Somebody please remind me what I'm doing here?" he asked aloud. He would have muttered it under his breath, but he figured it wasn't worth the effort with the music threatening to cause seismic disturbances as it was. His friends (who were quickly approaching the verge of being ex-friends) were in sight but too far away to hear him even if he'd been shouting. At least they seemed to be having fun. The heat and crowd were too much for Jacob, so in spite of his friends' protestations, he had pulled away and refused to join them. "This was all your idea," he shouted in vain at them. He wouldn't have been standing there looking like an idiot if they hadn't dragged him along. This was not at all what he'd been expecting when they invited him to go clubbing with them.
Music? Cool. Dancing? Fun. Mostly-naked men covered in glitter, pole dancing in thongs and wings? That crossed a few boundaries. Despite Jacob's disdain, it was impossible not to stare.
Jacob looked down at himself, glad to be assured that he was considerably more covered: jeans and a black shirt he was certain he'd never even seen before his friends had pulled it out of his closet and forced him into it. He'd been tugging at the shirt all night, uncomfortable with the way it felt too tight and looked too sheer. His arms, folded across his chest as he redirected his scowl to his outfit, did their best to hide these aspects of his attire, though some little good it did. At last, he sighed and let his head fall back against the wall behind him as he decided he'd had enough of this. His friends had driven him to the club, but death one way or another, he had to get out of there, and fast.
One of his friends smiled at him. He glared stolidly back at her, mentally scolding his hands as they fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. "I'll teach you to try to make me have fun…"
No, that wasn't quite right. Jacob had plenty of ideas about fun. Hundreds of sweaty bodies exceeding fire capacity as the loud beat threatened to confuse the rate of his heartbeat were not among those ideas. Jacob's discomfort was eased slightly when the strange dancer bowed and took his leave, only to be replaced by someone else. At least this one wasn't covered in glitter.
As midnight rolled around and his shift ended, Glitter bowed gracefully to the crowd to loud jeering and catcalls before turning and sauntering away behind the red velvet curtain. Glitter smiled to himself, amused as always at the crowd of admirers he managed to create every night he danced there.
Safely back in the dressing room, he began the laborious process of removing the glitter from his hair and body. He headed toward the showers, ready to shed himself of his name for another night. The adjoining shower room, done completely in off-white tile that was now chipped and graffitied almost beyond recognition. Glitter left his wings on the floor outside a shower stall and turned the tap to something most people would consider dangerously hot. He stepped behind the curtain before removing his thong and stepping under the scalding spray.
Even the incessant pounding of the music was drowned in the white noise wash of the water. Evan let it soak his hair before allowing it to run freely down his face and over the defined curves of his lithe body. Little by little, rivulets of pink and blue-stained water made their way down the drain, sparkling with the glint of all the glitter he wore. It took fifteen minutes of intense shampooing and soaping, but Evan finally got it all off. He remained there beneath the jets, though, enjoying the sensation of being completely naked -- no clothes, no makeup, no pretenses. Just Evan Morishita beneath the solitary, steamy heat of the running water. While it couldn't quite wash everything that was on his mind away, it was close enough to make him stay under the shower for another ten minutes of isolated bliss.
Evan -- just Evan now -- reached past the shower curtain and grabbed his towel from the rack on the wall. He patted himself dry quickly before wrapping the scratchy piece of cloth around his waist and stepping back into the dressing room. Quickly, he donned his street attire: a pair of heavily torn but form-fitting jeans and a semi-transparent white shirt that clung to every line of his torso. His necklace of an iron angel charm on a black leather thong, a gift from his first boyfriend, went on after that, and then his black leather jacket. The only thing that would let anyone recognize him as Glitter was his pink and blue hair, now lying flat, mussed, and damp without the gel and hairspray to hold it in its usual extravagant style.
"So much for getting a customer tonight," he thought. "But on second thought..." Instead of heading out the back door, he went through the stage door and re-entered the clubhouse, heading straight for the bar to get something to drink.
"Nice show," said Max, the bartender.
"Thanks, hun," Evan replied, smiling. Max had been the one to get him this job, and Evan was grateful for that. He needed a source of income -- anything -- and one night when he was here, Max noticed him and told him to talk to the manager. He was instantly hired and had been dancing there every night from eight to midnight ever since.
"The usual? No, no. It's on me tonight." Evan's smile grew even warmer as Max mixed him a Delta Sunrise and served it with a spear of fruit. It was his favorite drink, probably for being colorful and fruity. ("Like your hair!" everyone always said.) He took it from Max with a "Thank you" and leaned against the bar, looking around, eyeing potential prospects. He sighed and took a sip of his drink, the alcohol burning its way down his throat, and suddenly noticed a young man in a long-sleeve black shirt leaning against the wall.
"Looks like someone could use a good time," he said, downing the rest of the drink at once and turning on his charms as he walked over.
Jacob remained completely oblivious to the fact that anyone was looking at him, walking toward him, or talking to him until a hand waved in front of his face. He jumped, startled, and turned his glare to…
Oh, hell no.