Who: Alyssa, Christian, and Courfeyrac. What: Going out with work friends. When: Friday, 4/18. Where: A club. Rating/Warnings: PG-13. Status: Complete!
Christian liked his job. He liked a few of his coworkers. But he didn’t like them enough to socialize with them, usually. Still, he didn’t think he could get out of this one. So, he was ringing up Alyssa, and praying she’d be available. It was the only way he’d make it through this without snapping.
Alyssa heard her phone ring with the special, no nonsense ringtone she’d used for him (because she knew he’d go a strange shade of pink if she used a song or something). “Hello, luv. What’s up?”
“Oh, good, I caught you. Are you busy tonight?” He might have sounded just a trifle desperate. Maybe.
“... yes. Are you hurt?” He sounded a bit panicked, and she wondered what sort of accidents one could get up to in a bank. Maybe someone had stabbed him with a pen.
“No, no. Don’t take on.” He couldn’t help being slightly cross. She always seemed to assume he was hurt; Orange County wasn’t that bad. “I just wondered if you wanted to come out. I’m being dragged to a club, and it occurs to me you might actually enjoy it.” She was younger and not, frankly, as misanthropic as he was.
“You sounded upset and like ... dunno, you were in a panic.” When he mentioned he was being forcibly taken to a club, Alyssa laughed. “What sort of club is it? I can go with you, of course.” She was also honestly flattered that he was okay with his work mates meeting her.
“I am in a bloody panic. There are three people at work I can tolerate for more than ten minutes, and none of them are going to be there.” Christian had just begged off too many times; he had to come to this one lest he get a reputation. “What sort of club? Um. I’m not sure. They play house music? They serve alcohol and snacks, not proper food?”
“Right, so I get to wear a frock that makes me look easy.” Alyssa was already up and flipping through things in her closet. “Really, you just have to come up with a clubbing schedule.” She was already coming up with an itinerary in her head. “Twenty minutes with your mates - enough to make it seem like you tried. I’ll dance with someone or by myself then. Then I’ll drag you off to dance too, for fifteen minutes or so. Really, club dancing is just women and men trying to dry hump in public, so I’ll give you an erection, then it’s off to the loo for clandestine oral sex, then we’ll teleport home.”
Christian had to stop and process, but when he did, he just laughed. “You make it sound so easy.” God, she was fucking perfect.
“It is.” She smiled at his laugh. “When are we due to get there?” She needed a bit of time to shower and do her hair.
“Not til half eight; you’ve got a lot of time.” He checked the clock; it was only just on five now. “It doesn’t take you three and a half hours to get ready, I presume?”
“It doesn’t, thank you. When are you off work, do you want me to pick you up?” She found the perfect dress and smirked to herself.
“I get off tonight at seven. You can swing by the flat if you so desire.” It would take him probably a half hour to get home, and then a half hour to get ready. “Does that suit?”
“That’ll do,” she smiled. “I’m going to go read in the bath now, see you soon.” And while it didn’t take her three hours to get ready, it did take her a couple of hours to take a bath, eat a quick bite, and then get ready.
“Thank you.” Christian was properly grateful for her agreeing to come along, really. She’d save his sanity, if not his time.
He hung up and went back to work. The day went at a fairly average pace, and if he was honest, he enjoyed getting ready to go out a lot more than actually going out. He showered, used his few products, and pomaded his hair, then padded naked into his room with Lady yowling at his feet. “Half a second, luv,” he told her, amused at how ferociously the kitten was head-butting his ankles.
Christian mock sighed. “Yes. I’m choosing a suit. Lady’s in here helping.” He didn’t mention his nudity; it wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen it before. “She doesn’t like it when I get in the shower. I don’t think she grasps how humans get clean.”
“Compared to how she does it, it likely does seem a big to-do.” Alyssa stood up and moved to sit on Christian’s bed while he chose his suit. She’d picked out a cream coloured sheath dress that was just a bit too short to wear on a daily basis, but just short enough to wear to a club. She also liked that she didn’t have to wear a bra with it. Not that there was much there to support anyway.
‘I daresay, but my spit isn’t magic, and my tongue isn’t barbed. Neither is my penis, for that matter.” Christian eventually chose a three-piece light grey suit from John Varvatos. Maybe a trifle too fancy, but he’d rather look too fancy than like some fool. Besides, he’d take off the suitjacket anyway.
“Cats don’t have magic spit,” Alyssa grinned, sitting down. She watched him dress, cocking her head to the side and sighing. It should’ve been illegal for a man to be sexy while getting dressed.
“Tongues, then.” He heard her sigh and couldn’t restrain a smirk. “What?”
“Those trousers look nice on you.” She figured she’d be mostly honest.
“Well, thank you. I do try.” He turned around and saw her properly for the first time, and smiled. “You look very nice. That dress suits you.”
“Thank you!” She turned around to show him the open back. “I can’t really wear it all the time, it’s not really appropriate, but I suppose it’s all right for clubbing.” She wore her hair down and in loose ringlets.
“It is.” He liked the back especially; just a bit of skin was always nice. “I’m ready as I’ll ever be, I think. We should feed the little one before we go, but I think that’s all to do.”
“Of course. We can’t have her starving to death.” Alyssa cooed at the kitten, scooping her into her arms. “Sweet little girl. Is your daddy spoiling you rotten?”
Christian made a face, but didn’t comment. He knew she was just being sweet; still. The idea of anything calling him ‘Daddy’ was odd and uncomfortable.
Instead, he simply went to go get the food. He’d been alternating one day of wet food and one day of dry, and today was the wet food day. “She wants chicken, and here we are.”
Alyssa noticed the face and cackled. “What, would you rather she think of you as her roommate? Strike that, she probably does. I think that’s what all cats think of their humans.” But when there was wet food in the bowl, the cat nearly wriggled out of her arms and Alyssa laughed, bending at the waist to let her down. Bending at the waist was not her best idea, and she chuckled to herself. “Least I remembered knickers, yeah?”
“I think she thinks of me as the help.” Christian replied, fixing his collar. He did laugh at the yowling, and at Alyssa’s joke. “In that dress you’d get chucked out for forgetting knickers, luv.” He went over and wrapped an arm around her, kissing her mostly because he could. And somewhat to fuck up her makeup.
“You’re the handsome butler?” Alyssa smiled as she stood up and straightened her dress. But then she was being kissed - hard - which made her whimper happily. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she smiled when their lips parted.
“Kiss proof lipstick. Thank god for it,” she murmured, breathless. “Shouldn’t come off, even in the loo. Come on, I can teleport us to about a block away so you don’t have to leave your car.” She’d been to a restaurant near where the club was opening.
“Unfair.” Christian squeezed her arse under her dress with a smirk. “Thanks for the lift; I appreciate it.” He kept a hold of her as they teleported, closing his eyes against the pop of light that inevitably accompanied the transfer.
“You just don’t like when you’ve been bested,” Alyssa teased. She left an arm around his waist as they passed through toward the club, eyes closed against the light. “How many work mates will be here?”
“About six.” Christian leaned on her. “Two idiots, a frat boy sort, one homophobe, one woman who loves to hear herself talk, and her dull-as-ditchwater husband.” He really was going to owe her for this.
“Thank god we won’t be able to hear them.” Alyssa laughed a bit at her misanthropy. “We’re just prats.”
“They’re bastards,” Christian retorted amiably. “So I don’t care.” He held the door open for her. “I’d love for you to meet the workmates I actually enjoy. Emma and her wife, and Michael down in accounting - he’s as grumpy as we are.”
“Maybe I’ll cook sometime and you can invite them over for dinner.” She walked inside, smiling at the atmosphere, glad for her fake ID in her clutch. She’d need a couple of gin and tonics to get through this.
“That’d be rather brilliant.” Christian squeezed her hand, showing his ID and waiting for himself and Alyssa to be let in. Eventually they were waved through, and immediately Christian was wincing at the noise. “Bloody Nora.”
“Want me to go get you a whisky?” Alyssa had to speak directly into Christian’s ear, tiptoeing up to be heard. She spotted some people waving from a table, and she pointed them out. “Those’re them, yeah?”
He nodded, bussing her cheek with a grateful smile before taking a breath, ready to walk over and make nice. “Hello! How is everyone? I’m so sorry I’m late. My girlfriend is around somewhere.”
“Girlfriend?” The homophobe snickered. “Imagine that.”
Christian ignored him and engaged the dull husband in conversation. It would be the least rage-inducing.
Alyssa beamed as she came back to the table with a whisky and water for Christian and a gin and tonic for herself. She kissed Christian on the cheek, smiling broadly and acting the part of the doting girlfriend. She really wanted to help him in any way she could, and if it meant making nice with his awful work mates, she’d do it.
Christian introduced Alyssa, hoping he remembered all the names. “This is Alyssa; she’s at uni for psychology.”
The women smiled, while all of the men - even the dull husband - stared. Christian inwardly repeated homicide is against the law before turning to her. “Is that my whisky or yours?” he asked, raising his voice so he could be heard.
Focusing on the woman, Alyssa figured she’d let the men stare. “Your whisky, obviously. Gin for me, thanks.” The dull husband cleared her throat when he heard her accent, and Alyssa had to remind herself not to roll her eyes.
“Ah, right, of course. Ta.” Christian smiled, taking his glass and beckoning for her to sit down next to him. “So, what brings you here?” he asked one of the ladies.
“Are you English, miss?” One of the idiots asked, before the female idiot could get a word in edgewise.
Chuckling, Alyssa obliged the guy. “I am, I came here with my mum last year. I figured I’d go to uni here while I’m staying, kill two birds with one stone.” Christian could chat up the ladies, Alyssa would make smalltalk.
“English accents are beautiful.” The tone was fairly dreamy, and Christian grit his teeth. He did his best to ignore it, instead trying to engage the women in conversation. Alyssa could handle herself, even if he wanted to throttle the stupid twat.
She couldn’t help but grin. “If you believe that, I have a very nice flat to sell you in Manchester.” Winking at the man to keep things playful, she took a sip of her drink and lightly squeezed Christian’s hand.
The bloke kept hitting on Alyssa, but thankfully, the music increased in volume, so Christian only had to hear about half of it. He kept one arm wrapped around her, mostly to anchor himself to reality. If he moved to the side, maybe he could watch the people making idiots of themselves on the dance floor. She settled into Christian’s embrace and then looked up at him. “I think I’m going to go dance for a bit, do you want to join me?” She was giving him an out which he could take or not, up to him.
“Soon.” He had to finish the conversation, otherwise he’d look like a twat. “Very soon,” he murmured in her ear.
The dance floor was populated, and Andre Courfeyrac was in the middle of it. He’d come with a few friends, but he was dancing alone, just enjoying the feeling. He felt a few guys starting to dance with him, but they never lasted long. He pouted at a few of them, but only one gave back a longing look. Maybe later. It wasn’t the one he wanted, after all.
Moving to the floor by herself, Alyssa navigated the handsy people to find her own space where she could dance. She’d taken dance classes for years, and moved with a certain level of fluidity. Smiling when she saw this really cute bloke, she danced near him and giggled, hoping he’d dance back. It was just dancing.
Courfeyrac squinted at the redheaded girl who’d suddenly appeared. “I know you!” he said, giggling right back, getting his hips back into the dancing. There wasn’t any harm in it, after all. Or was there? Did she have a man? Was he big?
Recognition only took a moment. “Andre, right?” She had to yell, but she was grinning. “How are you?” She tossed her hair, dancing and rolling her hips with the music in turn, eyes closed.
“Mmhmm!” Courf grinned, enjoying watching her. “You move so nicely! You must have training. I’m alone. But that’s okay. Jehan wouldn’t come here.” Jehan was too pure. Too lovely.
“Who’s Jehan, hmm? Is that your boyfriend?” Alyssa moved closer to dance with Andre, one hand on his shoulder. “Mine’s stuck with work people at the bar.”
“No.” Courfeyrac pouted. “He is the east! ... Or the ... sun.” He frowned. “Maybe I’m drunk.” But Jehan wasn’t his boyfriend, and it bothered him.
“Wait, your boyfriend’s Juliet?” Alyssa cocked her head as they still danced, then smiled a little. “You’re very drunk, luv. It’s all right, I’ll get you home safe.”
“Jehan isn’t my boyfriend.” Courf pouted harder. “He doesn’t know I exist.” He did laugh a little when he felt his body getting a little excited. “Whooooops. Sorry.”
Christian had been watching them dance, and when the skinny bloke had done a bit too much grinding, that had been enough. He got up without excusing himself to his workmates, going onto the dance floor and tapping Alyssa on the shoulder. “Pardon, luv, can I cut in?”
“That’s so sad, we’ll have to think of a way to get him to stop being oblivious.” Alyssa giggled when she could feel Courf poking her thigh accidentally, reaching up to ruffle his hair. “Not your fault, dear.”
But then Christian was coming over, and she smiled at him. “Of course you may! Christian, this is my mate Andre, I know him from the network. Andre, this is my boyfriend Christian.”
Courf was drunk enough to stare. “Hello, are you - wait, you aren’t single. Damn.”
Well, that made more sense. Christian immediately relaxed. “Afraid so, mate.” He had to raise his voice a bit to be heard over the music.
“If you want to mate, it should be with your girlfriend!” Courf said, trying to hear, grinning in spite of himself.
Alyssa cackled, pretending to slap Andre. She ended up just patting his cheek gently. “You’re very, very pissed, sweetheart. Do you want me to take you home, or do you have a ride?” She wrapped her arms around Christian’s waist, obviously very happy her boyfriend was around.
“A ride. Here with a friend.” Courf nodded once, twice, three times. “Good friend, but he’s trying to pick up girls.” He made a yucky face. “Bleh. But not you bleh - you’re pretty. But you can’t get picked up.”
Christian heard most of that, and couldn’t help but be amused. “I wouldn’t let her, it’s true.” He kissed Alyssa on the cheek. “If you want to pop him home, I can manage for a bit.” He wasn’t a monster, and the poor bastard did look completely rat-arsed.
Alyssa nodded. “Well, tell your friend you’re going home, and I’ll teleport you home. I’m magic,” she yelled. Thank god for loud music, nobody would overhear.
“Of course you’re magic!” Courfeyrac looked at her like she’d said something idiotic. “You’re beautiful, all beautiful people are. Like Jehan!”
Christian laughed. “Come find me when you’re back, darling.”
Giggling, Alyssa found out where Courf lived. Fortunately he lived near campus, so she popped him there, then walked him home. Teleporting back to the club was simple, and she moved to find Christian at the table, wrapping her arms around his waist.
Christian had had three whiskies by the time she got back - not sober, but not drunk. Still, he was a little more loose and less homicidal, so it was a good thing. “Hello, my sweet,” he said, beckoning Alyssa over and letting her lean against his lap.
“Hello, darling.” She plopped into his lap, letting her head rest against his shoulder. Since they were close, she could murmur into his ear without his coworkers overhearing. “Think you’ve spent enough time with them yet?”
“Dear God, ten minutes was enough.” Christian kissed her neck to make it seem like they were just being affectionate.
“Come dance with me?” She said it loud enough so that everyone at the table would think she was just being young and impulsive.
“All right.” He sighed, to make it look real, allowing himself to be dragged. “If we must.” But for just a few minutes, it was okay with him. She was young. And attractive. And limber.
And trained in dancing. But really, club dancing was just slow dry humping. She enjoyed it though, even if the music wasn’t really her cup of tea. Closing her eyes, Alyssa moved against her boyfriend, looking up at him after a moment and grinning. “Is it as bad as you thought it would be?”
“Dancing? No. This club? Almost.” Christian smiled, resting her hands on her waist. “Your presence has made it infinitely better. And your mate’s made me laugh.”
“You just like dancing like this.” She could feel his body against hers, and she turned her head so she could kiss him. “Your mates are watching us.”
“Good.” Let them. Christian kissed her, damn the looks. He was looking forward to the loo, but he also enjoyed turning the tables on Alyssa.
Sighing contentedly, Alyssa turned to wrap her arms around Christian. Sometimes one needed to abandon the pretense of dancing and just make out.
That was fine with him, as well. He’d gotten fond of her because of her quick wit and sensibility, but his initial attraction had been to her physicality - her hair, her legs, her bum. Christian enjoyed touching her everywhere. Well, everywhere he could in public.
Whimpering quietly into his mouth, Alyssa tugged him by the tie toward the general area of the restrooms. “Loo. Now.”
“Yes’m.” Christian half stumbled, half walked with her toward what he assumed was the lav. He hoped his bloody workmates were watching. And jealous.