Charity Chambers (cc_charity) wrote in charing_cross, @ 2009-06-29 10:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | ! complete, ! private, * 2003: 06/june, retired character charity chambers, retired character: neil bradley |
RP Log: Charity Chambers, Neil Bradley
Date: 26 June 2003
Characters: Charity Chambers, Neil Bradley AND RANDOM NPC PAUL (with tiny cameo appearances by Nico Chambers & Ian Summers)
Location: A (gay) nightclub in Muggle London!
Private/Public: Private
Rating: Not QUITE an R, but definitely PG13.
Warnings: None really.
Summary: Again with the UST. ;) This time, there's drinking, flirting, dancing, and Neil getting hit on by another one of the patrons.
After a long break in the corner (which didn't help stop the stares as much as Neil would have liked), he returned to the bar area, weaselling his way through sweaty bodies to the bar. He had to shove a few men aside (who barely noticed, they were that latched to each other's faces), but finally he made his way to the front. His friends weren't around, so Neil had little shame about the drink he was about to order. "Cosmo?" he asked after flagging down the bartender. Though he normally stuck to beer and scotch and those sorts of manly things, he had a surprising weak spot for cocktails that most people would call 'girly' drinks.
Somehow Charity had wrangled Nico and Ian out on the dance floor, and from Neil's bar perch, he could see the three of them laughing and dancing up a storm. Or rather, Ian and Charity were dancing up a storm, occasionally grinding on each other though there was clearly nothing sexual about it; Nico looked as though he'd rather be anywhere but shuffling from side to side in the standard White Boy Dance in the middle of a gay club being ogled by the patrons.
"Oh, honey," came a voice from over Neil's left shoulder. "That is just so cliché. Someone has watched too many episodes of Sex and the City."
Said voice was attached to a surprisingly handsome, but very decidedly gay man about Neil's age. In his hand, he carried a Scotch on the rocks, and he eyed Neil up and down. "I'm going to guess you're not a Carrie or a Samantha. Could be a Charlotte with those shoes, or a Miranda with that uncomfortable expression. Which is it, love?"
Eyes widening -- he'd been caught! -- Neil turned, but immediately relaxed when he saw that it wasn't any of his friends. Not that he thought it would be, with that voice, but it was still a relief to see that they were off dancing and not watching him take a sip of his cosmopolitan.
"Charlotte," he stated without hesitation. Years of being Charity's friend meant that he'd seen more episodes of that show to last an entire lifetime. It also meant that he knew the personalities of each of the four main characters, and had been labelled as a 'Charlotte' by Charity already. He glanced down at the shoes and sighed. 'Fuck me. I shouldn't understand that,' he thought. He could see why someone would think that he was that sort of person, however, even though he really wasn't. "But not because of the shoes," he clarified. Didn't all of those women like really nice and expensive shoes, anyway? He couldn't remember exactly.
The man grinned a boyish and charming smile, one that clearly meant he was certainly not Charlotte but more a Samantha. He wasn't leering at Neil, but there was definitely interest sparking behind his eyes. Leaning a little closer, he asked, "So then why aren't you out there dancing with your pick of the hotties?"
'Oh, Jesus, is he flirting with me?' was Neil's next thought. He didn't back away as he might have normally. There was barely enough room for him to stand there, let alone move, and Neil didn't have anywhere else to go. Neil glanced at the dance floor again, catching a glimpse of Charity out there, dancing like she didn't have a care in the world.
"Um..." Neil looked back at the man next to him and shrugged his shoulders. "Not much of a dancer myself, really." That wasn't exactly the truth, but it was the best excuse he had at the moment. He wasn't a bad dancer, truth be told. He was actually pretty good, for a straight white man. "Clubs aren't really my thing," he explained, leaning in a bit and raising his voice so he could be heard. Besides, there was only one hottie that he wanted. Neil wasn't about to admit that, however, despite all the alcohol he'd been consuming that night.
The guy could read between the lines, especially when he'd caught Neil looking out toward the dance floor. He was fairly certain it was one of the threesome currently laughing and dancing, and he was nearly positive it was not the uncomfortable one. Besides... "No? You mean that wasn't you dancing out there earlier to Lady Sovereign earlier?"
Neil's cheeks flushed and he ducked his head a little, looking down at the floor -- or at least in the general area of the floor, since he couldn't see much of it. "Might have been," he admitted. "I'll probably get dragged out there again later, but I needed a break." He lifted his glass, using that as an explanation. He'd needed a drink, too.
"When a Cosmo calls," the man chirped with a knowing smile. Drinks were a hot commodity at a bar or club. The man shifted just a little bit closer, holding out a big hand to shake Neil's. "I'm Paul, by the way. Nice to meet you....?"
"Something like that." Neil shifted his drink from one hand to the next to shake Paul's hand. Just because the man was probably hitting on him was no excuse to be impolite. "Neil. Nice to meet you as well." And then Neil's mind went completely blank as he glanced over to the dance floor yet again. That was a common occurrence, and always uncomfortable, even when Charity wasn't around. He always fumbled when it came to figuring out what to say next, and even though he was at a gay club and talking to a very gay man, it still seemed sort of important to not be completely boring. At least there was an explanation with her around, he thought with a sigh, completely mesmerised.
"Oh, you poor thing," Paul said when he realised that Neil was not eyeing Tall, Dark, and Gorgeous. At least not the male variety of it. Well, at least Neil had good taste. It would have been rather sad if a fit bloke like him was completely head over heels for a dumpy, fat girl. "She has no idea, does she?"
"What?" Eyes going wide again, Neil snapped out of his reverie, torn between being shocked that Paul figured it out so easily and relieved that it meant he wouldn't hit on him again. At first, he wanted to deny it, but he knew that wouldn't do him any good, especially not if it was that obvious. Instead, he sighed and shook his head slowly. "No idea. No one does... well, if you can tell, then I'm probably fucked, since I bet everyone else can and they're just not saying anything to be nice, or because they pity me or whatever." For some unknown reason, Neil felt like spilling his guts to Paul, and he'd only just met the bloke. It wasn't fair to the man, but Neil knew that it had all built up and would keep building it and soon enough, it was going to explode. "She's my best mate, so... well, one of them." And clearly not interested, he thought, hoping in vain that Paul would be able to pick up on that too.
"Ouch. Friend zone. That's no-man's land, love," Paul answered, cringing. There were some things that were universal. "For the record, I can tell because I'm pretty sure that's --" he inclined his head toward Neil's drink "-- not your first Cosmo of the evening, and you've been eyeing her the entire time I've been standing here."
Now that flirting with Neil was out of the question -- Paul wasn't an idiot, after all -- it was kind of refreshing to have a real conversation that didn't have to worm its way into his pants. Paul wasn't an asshole either, and there were plenty of fish in the sea. "But I'll bet no-one pities you or is being nice. A fabulous girl like that?" Obviously, Paul didn't know her personality, but those shoes? And the wreckless way she was dancing? Definitely Madonna/Liza/Judy material in the making. "They're not saying a fucking word because they're trying to keep you in the friend zone. You're here with her and two gay men. Sort of says something, if you catch my drift."
"Tell me about it," Neil grumbled with a frown. That was precisely why he hadn't told her yet. He would tell her and then he'd watch their friendship crumble right before his eyes. No matter how many times people claimed to stay friends with their exes, it very rarely worked. So far, he'd gotten lucky with his friendship with Charity. Eventually, that luck would run out.
He couldn't help but wince at Paul's last comments. 'Fuck my life,' he thought, taking a huge gulp of his drink. No, Paul was right: it was not his first of the evening. "Yeah, I'm the third gay man, in her eyes. She's like my fag hag or something." He paused, letting that set in. Was that what the problem was? That he was too much like her best gay friend? "Wait, Nico's not gay," he said suddenly. Neil glanced back at the trio. "The one who looks like he doesn't belong here."
One of Paul's eyebrows arched at that last comment. Closeted, he thought with a sad sort of internal sigh. That would be a hard road for him and his friends. Paul bit his tongue, though his nodded. "Oh, right. Sorry. My misassumption."
Before Paul could get another word out, Charity Chambers strutted off the dance floor, sweating and desperately for a drink. After a quick survey of the bar, she spotted Neil and headed straight for him.
Paul coughed and leaned in. "Hottie at ten o'clock. Coming straight for you." And then he promptly raised his glass and took a sip from his Scotch. He turned toward the bar, though he was still watching the scene with keen interest.
Once Charity reached the pair, she bumped Neil with her hip, simultaneously grabbing his drink from his hand and taking a rather long and rude gulp from it without asking. Handing it back, she wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. "Blimey, Neil. I thought you were over the Cosmo stage of your life. It's the shoes, isn't it? You feel a little like Mr Big."
Paul promptly snickered into his glass. She'd been thinking something very similar to him. "Charlotte actually."
Charity pointed at the man, nodding. "That's what I keep telling him. Mr Hopeless Romantic waiting for his Fifth Avenue Romance!"
Neil tore his gaze from Paul just in time to catch a glimpse of Charity right before she was practically on top of him. He felt his voice catch in his throat, and all he could do was shrug his shoulders in reply. He couldn't even fight her when she took his drink, even though he'd purchased it for himself and it had been outrageously expensive.
Instead, he cast glares at the both of them, a bad feeling settling in his stomach that he couldn't really explain.
"I'm not hopeless," he muttered, finally regaining his speech. It was hard to pretend to be happy, after the conversation he and Paul were having when they'd been interrupted, but Neil tried to put on his happy face anyway. "Having fun?" he asked her, a faint (and forced) smile on his face.
"Don't pout, Neil. When you pout, it makes me sad, and I've had too much to drink to be sad," she told him, leaning her head on his shoulder and smiling brightly at him. Clearly, she'd had a few drinks too. Her palm under the bottom of his drink, she gently pushed it upwards toward his mouth. "I'd have more fun if... you finished your drink and came out to dance with me."
As she batted her eyelashes at him, Paul gave Neil a Look, one that said: are you sure you're in the friend zone?
Neil was pretty sure that he understood the Look, and he nodded his head, just barely, but hopefully enough for Paul to understand what his Look meant: yes, I'm sure.
"Did you leave Ian and Nico out there all alone?" He knew he couldn't refuse Charity, but he could drag it out a little bit. "Fine, but you're buying me a drink after, since you drank half of mine," he said, rolling his eyes at her and dutifully downing the rest of the drink. Before he let her drag him away, however, he grabbed a napkin and a pen from the bar, scribbling his number on the napkin and pushing it to Paul. Obviously, he wasn't giving it away because he was interested; he was just feeling spontaneous and really, the man seemed like a nice person, so what harm could there be? Maybe he'd make a friend out of it all.
Paul didn't look completely convinced on Neil's silent answer, slipping the paper into his sport coat pocket. In return, he slipped a business card into the upper pocket of Neil's shirt. Being gay didn't mean you had to keep hitting on someone who wasn't. With a tiny nod, Paul went back to nursing his drink, but only for a little longer.
After all, a Justin Timberlake song boomed out of the enormous speakers, and Charity beamed. She loved Justin (and who didn't?), and especially, "Rock Your Body." She grabbed Neil's hand and drug him toward the dance floor. "What was that all about? Am I going to have to start trying to set you up with blokes?"
"No," Neil snapped, feeling defensive, even though he had no reason to be. "We were just talking. Am I not allowed to talk to people?" There seemed to be even more people, even less room, out on the dance floor, which Neil hadn't thought was possible. All of the sweaty, writhing bodies -- it really was not where he wanted to be at the moment. He'd rather be home, curled up with the dogs, having a few beers and watching a movie. Huge crowds honestly weren't his thing, and he really was putting up with it only because she had asked.
But that didn't mean he couldn't pretend to have fun. At least he knew how to dance, he thought, so he wouldn't make a complete fool of himself. "He teased me for my choice of drink too. You two would probably get along wonderfully."
"In that case, I hope he gave you his telephone number," Charity answered, very pointedly ignoring his outburst, and in doing so, she wasn't looking at him. Thankfully, she was just on the cusp of being tipsy, and it was easy to skim right over it.
Not to mention, her current favourite song blared. Once on the dance floor, she let go of Neil's hand, but that didn't mean anything really. There were so many people on the dance floor that she had no choice but to dance with Neil. Up close. Personal. Invading his personal bubble. Of course, Charity didn't have a problem with it.
Neil immediately felt slightly claustrophobic once they got to the dance floor, and it was only Charity that kept him from completely freaking out. He latched his attention onto her and managed to block everyone else out, feeling like he'd created a bubble around the two of them. Having Charity dance that close to him was not ideal, but Neil wasn't having a bad time, either. It was actually rather fun, to just let go and forget about everyone else. Neil was sure that Charity felt that way whenever she was out on the dance floor: that there was no one else there but her. He didn't feel self-conscious until someone jostled him from behind and he bumped into Charity, hands grabbing her automatically to steady himself.
Then the closeness of their bodies started to worry him. She was right there, their bodies were right up against each other and he could touch her without drawing any questions -- not that he wanted to use dancing as a reason to get close like he desperately wanted. His body, unfortunately, was reacting in ways that he couldn't control. He hoped that she would just brush it off as Neil being a straight man; there were just some things that they couldn't help when an attractive woman was dancing with them.
Though Charity knew that it was simply because he'd been bumped into her, she managed to slip his hands to her waist, then hers at his shoulders. Other couples were dancing close, "rocking" their bodies against one another at Justin's command. Charity did the same. Then she turned around, leaning her back against him as her hips moved side to side to the beat. The back of her head rested against his shoulder, and she looked at him with an enormous smile on her face. She always was the happiest when she was doing something active, after all. Dancing would be one of those things.
Seeing Charity so happy made Neil's stomach flutter, as it always did when she flashed that huge grin at him, but it wasn't completely a good feeling. While he was always happy to see her happy, it gutted him to know that it wasn't because of him. Oh, he knew that he did make her happy, in some way. They were best friends, after all, but that wasn't all he wanted. As great as it was to dance with her, he knew she'd never let him get so close or touch her so much if she knew. It was no wonder Paul had thought he was gay, too, at first; he really did seem like one of her gay friends. That concern kept him from really giving in to temptation, but it was difficult. If he just turned his head slightly, his lips would be on her neck, right where she liked it, if he remembered correctly. His fingers dug into her hips slightly, torn between wanting to keep her right there and wanting to flee.
That was interesting to Charity, his short nails digging into her bare hips. She suddenly felt bad; she hadn't realised that he was that uncomfortable here. It was a possessive thing, and she wondered if maybe Paul had hit on him just a little too close for comfort. That sort of irked her, left her feeling a little protective of Neil.
Spinning around, she hooked her arms around his neck, dancing close enough to him that if Paul was watching, there would be no doubt that she'd claimed Neil. Grinding against his hips in something short and skimpy was bound to have an effect on him, but if she mentioned it, she knew he'd go red, possibly storm off the dance floor. It happened.
The second best part about dancing at a club was getting to sing along while you were dancing. Though she hadn't meant to croon in his ear, but with her height, it was inevitable. "Make a move, but be calm. Let's go, let's give it a whirl. See it appears to me you like the way I move. I'll tell you what I'm gonna do: pull you close and share my groove."
She was definitely right about one thing: had she mentioned anything about how much he was enjoying having her grind on him, he would have stormed off. Though it still embarrassed him, he could try to pretend she had no idea as long as she kept it to herself.
His hands moved from her hips to the small of her back, fingers digging in there slightly as he tried to keep himself from reacting to her singing. She couldn't have had any idea what she was doing to him, he thought. It was nearly torture, her breath on his neck, her voice in his ear, the words she was singing. He shuddered a little, helpless to resist any longer. He leaned his head against hers lightly and closed his eyes, shutting everyone else out. The next morning, he'd hate himself, but he just wanted to forget who they were to each other, just for a few minutes.
Charity nearly froze out there on the dance floor. Oh blimey, what did Paul say to him? She swallowed, having to remind herself that he wanted them to go their separate ways all those years ago. He was her friend now, her best friend, like they'd started off being.
By now, she'd stopped singing, and she was barely dancing at all. Her hand reached up to the back of his neck, despite the warning in her head. Couldn't... they just stay like this for a while? She could almost, almost pretend she was nineteen again. Unjaded, hopeful, and certainly with less self-hatred. No one slept around the way she did and didn't hate themselves, after all.
But the song was still going, and Neil might think she was getting weird so she eased up, just enough that they weren't practically hugging on the dance floor. Forcing herself to resume her hip shaking, she leaned in just enough to tell him, "I'll get you that drink when this song is over. Another Cosmo, or something else?"
Neil's eyes flew open and he pulled his head back slightly, looking at her quizzically, and it might have seemed like he wanted to stop, had he moved his hands at all. He didn't, though. He kept them there and looked back at her, wondering what was going through her head. It would be easy, he thought, to just lean in and kiss her right that second. All he'd have to do was move a few inches. His chest felt tight again, the emotion and his nerves overcoming his will, and he started to lean in. Her voice was what stopped him, and his body tensed up slightly. He'd missed his chance, again.
"Doesn't matter," he said quickly, his own body following her rhythm easily once again. "Your choice, since you might want to drink some of it again," he added, his voice light and playful, slightly teasing. "But maybe something manly. No more girly drinks for me."
"You got it," Charity yelled above the music, smiling at him. For a brief moment, she fought the urge to ruffle his hair, but they were at a dance club, and who knew if there was a straight girl here who might have her eye on Neil. Charity would hate to ruin that for him. "One whiskey, coming right up."
Squashing down her old feelings for Neil, Charity danced the rest of the song in a lazy manner. She didn't want to draw too much attention to herself, so she kept the moves coming, but it was clear as day that her heart was no longer in it.
Neil could tell that something had changed, and he was sure that he'd done something wrong. The excited, happy Charity wasn't there any more. Truthfully, he wasn't as happy to be out on the dance floor with her as he had been previously, but part of that was because he could tell something was wrong -- and also because he was frustrated with himself. He leaned in, hands still on her hips because he was still trying to pretend everything was fine. "Want to take a break?" he asked, hoping that would hide anything he might have accidentally given away. He wasn't nearly as fit as Charity was, and definitely not used to dancing all night.
The song was over by now, and Charity knew she'd need a drink -- possibly a couple -- to finish this round of hating herself. It was rare that she got into these moods, or rather that she actually thought about her self-loathing. Nico and Neil were the only two people in the world who could remind her of just how much she disliked herself sometimes.
"Sure. Getting a bit thirsty, actually. Need a drink," she told him as she stalled whatever half-hearted dancing she was still doing. She put on a smile, inclining her head toward a bar that was not occupied by Paul. Then, just to save face, she grabbed Neil's hands, twisting until she was in front of him, her hands behind her back, and led him off the dance floor.
Neil was having his own bout of self-hatred, slightly disappointed that she was steering him away from where he'd last seen Paul. It would have been nice to get someone else's opinion on the matter, especially someone who wasn't deeply involved in either of their lives. He felt like he'd opened Pandora's box: suddenly, he wanted to talk about it, to tell someone, to get it all off his chest. After keeping it bottled up for so long, he didn't know how much longer he'd be able to keep up the façade.
He squeezed her hands lightly, enjoying the way it felt to have all of her attention, wishing he felt like that all of the time. Sooner or later, it would all come out, and he was sure that when that time came, it would all blow up in his face.