Guy hated Pittsburgh. Let that be clear from the start. He absolutely hated Pittsburgh. The stench, the people... it was fucking horrible.
So when Brian had suggested they go out, Guy wanted to reply that he'd already gone out and wasn't going to anymore. He had settled on the idea that this was a passing thing and he was fine drinking Jack Daniels until that moment.
The mention of Bablyon made him curious though. Michael mentioned of it on the island and it sounded like a place he could live with in this otherwise hated place.
So he went along.
The music was horrible. Let that be clear from the start. It didn't even qualify as music. The only indication that it was were that people were dancing to it. Men, to be exact. Plenty of them. Dancing like Michael described. In spite of himself a grin appeared on his face. Maybe this place had some little things that weren't completely abdominal.
Brian had nearly forgotten about Guy, but as he surveyed the room, taking in his club, he spotted the man. Sighing inwardly he rolled his eyes and made his way over to him, shouting to be heard over the pulsing music.
"Welcome to my world, Guy Burgess. Come have a drink. On the house." It was easy to be magnanimous when you were on top of the fucking world.
Why in the name of God's arse did the music have to be so fucking loud? What was the point? Particularly when the music was scarcesly music to begin with. "Rather tacky a world." He murmured inaudibly.
The point was to feel that bass beat deep in your bones. It was primal, it was sex, and it translated into the moving, gyrating bodies that made Brian love the place.
Brian grinned and led the way back to the bar, leaning over it to get the bartender's attention and then looking back at Guy. "What do you want?" Before Guy could answer, he turned back and told the bartender, "He's my guest tonight. Give him anything he wants." The bartender nodded quickly and turned an inquisitive look on Guy, poised to make any drink asked.
"Vodka." Guy ordered and upon the questions asked regarding what kind of mix of vodka he blinked and said loudly above the music he just wanted a bloody vodka.
He was given a red drink. This was going to be a long night.
He downed the contents of the glass - teeth-breakingly sweet. "Disgusting." He said as he looked into his glass.
Brian snorted and rolled his eyes, tapping on the bar with a grin. "Two Grey Goose doubles," he ordered. The bartender poured them up quickly, straight vodka into each glass. Brian took one and held it up. "To real alcohol," he suggested, having a feeling that of all of the things he personally would be happy to toast tonight, that's one of the few Guy would get behind as well.
Guy did. He held the glass up. "To real alcohol." And downed the drink. He then took some time to turn around and look at the crowd dancing - or rather moving - at the music.
He did allow himself to smirk then. Perhaps not such a wasted night after all. At least he wouldn't have to think of where he was and who didn't know him here for a while.
Brian drained his glass and slammed it on the bar with a satisfied sigh. He surveyed the sea of dancing twinks, picked a likely candidate, and turned to grin at Guy. "And now it's time for me to get my dick sucked." He nodded and headed onto the dance floor, making his way to the selected blond wearing very little and starting to dance, rubbing against him as he moved to the music.
Guy did grin to that, as he motioned that the other should go ahead onto the dance-floor. The empty stool next to him stayed empty for half a second.
"What are you having?" The shouted question in his ear was as a young man in a far too tight shirt (that did not necessarily look bad on him) sat next to him.
"You, I think." Guy shouted back. Different setting, same old story. But a story he could live with, and a story that saved him from the annoying fact of being in Pittsburgh.
So when Brian had suggested they go out, Guy wanted to reply that he'd already gone out and wasn't going to anymore. He had settled on the idea that this was a passing thing and he was fine drinking Jack Daniels until that moment.
The mention of Bablyon made him curious though. Michael mentioned of it on the island and it sounded like a place he could live with in this otherwise hated place.
So he went along.
The music was horrible. Let that be clear from the start. It didn't even qualify as music. The only indication that it was were that people were dancing to it. Men, to be exact. Plenty of them. Dancing like Michael described. In spite of himself a grin appeared on his face. Maybe this place had some little things that weren't completely abdominal.
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"Welcome to my world, Guy Burgess. Come have a drink. On the house." It was easy to be magnanimous when you were on top of the fucking world.
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"Please." He shouted above the music.
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Brian grinned and led the way back to the bar, leaning over it to get the bartender's attention and then looking back at Guy. "What do you want?" Before Guy could answer, he turned back and told the bartender, "He's my guest tonight. Give him anything he wants." The bartender nodded quickly and turned an inquisitive look on Guy, poised to make any drink asked.
Reply
"Vodka." Guy ordered and upon the questions asked regarding what kind of mix of vodka he blinked and said loudly above the music he just wanted a bloody vodka.
He was given a red drink. This was going to be a long night.
He downed the contents of the glass - teeth-breakingly sweet. "Disgusting." He said as he looked into his glass.
Reply
Reply
He did allow himself to smirk then. Perhaps not such a wasted night after all. At least he wouldn't have to think of where he was and who didn't know him here for a while.
Reply
Reply
"What are you having?" The shouted question in his ear was as a young man in a far too tight shirt (that did not necessarily look bad on him) sat next to him.
"You, I think." Guy shouted back. Different setting, same old story. But a story he could live with, and a story that saved him from the annoying fact of being in Pittsburgh.
Reply
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