a product of hanging out in the mountains all weekend
Author: Aublivienne
Story: pretty much all of them
Challenge: Vanilla #23 (music/singing/dancing)
Extras/Toppings: Chopped Nuts (Knights of Suburbia AU)
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 509
Summary: Meet Kashmir's explosives expert. :D
Notes: I hinted at their relationship a while back (in canon), so I've been trying to figure out if I wanted to play with it in the AU. I have some funny ideas for this, so enjoy :3
“Do we really want a demolitions expert who hangs out at a strip club?” Damien yelled over the thundering music. “I'm just picturing this sleazy guy who drools over anything with tits.”
Kashmir rolled his eyes. He didn't have any problem with strip clubs, but he didn't trust Alain and Sorian to mess with dangerous chemicals unsupervised. The only problem was that the person he wanted to find probably didn't want to see him...
“He might not be,” Sheridan said with a shrug. “I mean, look at these people. This isn't exactly a sleazy--”
Sheridan trailed off, and Kashmir followed his sudden slack-jawed gaze to the stage. He cursed under his breath. He was hoping that their expert would be backstage, but luck just wasn't on his side.
“Dude,” Damien whispered, also staring. “I didn't know that guys could pole dance-holy shit, how is he doing that!?”
“He must have some insane leg strength,” Sheridan muttered. “Can I stay in the car? I...um, I'm not ready for this. I kind of wore the wrong pants, if you get what I'm say-ohmigod he's looking at us.”
Shit, Kashmir thought. His heart leapt into his throat as the stripper smiled and beckoned them closer. Sheridan ran for the stage, and Damien tried to make a show of not being anywhere near as interested.
The stripper gave Kashmir a cold glare and flipped his curly hair back. “So what are you here for?” he asked, his voice still warm and welcoming.
“I need to talk to you when you're done,” Kashmir said calmly.
The man on stage rolled his eyes. “Meet me backstage in a few,” he said.
As the trio made their way backstage, Sheridan raised an eyebrow at his boss. “What did you do? He doesn't seem very happy to see you.”
“He's not.” Kashmir sighed and leaned against a wall. Damien and Sheridan looked at each other, confused.
A few moments later, the dark-haired man approached them, putting a robe on over his fishnets. “What do you want?” he asked, glaring at Kashmir. “I've got work to do.”
“Not anymore.” Kashmir stuck his hands in his pockets. “I called and asked if you could have the rest of the night off. As usual, they were happy to oblige.”
The man stomped his foot. “Didn't I tell you to quit doing that? We're not together anymore and I have fucking bills to pay.”
“Oh,” Damien and Sheridan said in unison. That explained the hostility.
“Look, I need someone know knows what to do with explosives.” Kashmir smiled calmly. “Just a few days, Belial. That's all I ask.”
Belial threw his arms up in frustration. “You can't do anything yourself, can you?” He turned on his heel and started to walk off, but he turned around when he reached the dressing room door. “Three days,” he spat. “You're on your own after that.”
Story: pretty much all of them
Challenge: Vanilla #23 (music/singing/dancing)
Extras/Toppings: Chopped Nuts (Knights of Suburbia AU)
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 509
Summary: Meet Kashmir's explosives expert. :D
Notes: I hinted at their relationship a while back (in canon), so I've been trying to figure out if I wanted to play with it in the AU. I have some funny ideas for this, so enjoy :3
“Do we really want a demolitions expert who hangs out at a strip club?” Damien yelled over the thundering music. “I'm just picturing this sleazy guy who drools over anything with tits.”
Kashmir rolled his eyes. He didn't have any problem with strip clubs, but he didn't trust Alain and Sorian to mess with dangerous chemicals unsupervised. The only problem was that the person he wanted to find probably didn't want to see him...
“He might not be,” Sheridan said with a shrug. “I mean, look at these people. This isn't exactly a sleazy--”
Sheridan trailed off, and Kashmir followed his sudden slack-jawed gaze to the stage. He cursed under his breath. He was hoping that their expert would be backstage, but luck just wasn't on his side.
“Dude,” Damien whispered, also staring. “I didn't know that guys could pole dance-holy shit, how is he doing that!?”
“He must have some insane leg strength,” Sheridan muttered. “Can I stay in the car? I...um, I'm not ready for this. I kind of wore the wrong pants, if you get what I'm say-ohmigod he's looking at us.”
Shit, Kashmir thought. His heart leapt into his throat as the stripper smiled and beckoned them closer. Sheridan ran for the stage, and Damien tried to make a show of not being anywhere near as interested.
The stripper gave Kashmir a cold glare and flipped his curly hair back. “So what are you here for?” he asked, his voice still warm and welcoming.
“I need to talk to you when you're done,” Kashmir said calmly.
The man on stage rolled his eyes. “Meet me backstage in a few,” he said.
As the trio made their way backstage, Sheridan raised an eyebrow at his boss. “What did you do? He doesn't seem very happy to see you.”
“He's not.” Kashmir sighed and leaned against a wall. Damien and Sheridan looked at each other, confused.
A few moments later, the dark-haired man approached them, putting a robe on over his fishnets. “What do you want?” he asked, glaring at Kashmir. “I've got work to do.”
“Not anymore.” Kashmir stuck his hands in his pockets. “I called and asked if you could have the rest of the night off. As usual, they were happy to oblige.”
The man stomped his foot. “Didn't I tell you to quit doing that? We're not together anymore and I have fucking bills to pay.”
“Oh,” Damien and Sheridan said in unison. That explained the hostility.
“Look, I need someone know knows what to do with explosives.” Kashmir smiled calmly. “Just a few days, Belial. That's all I ask.”
Belial threw his arms up in frustration. “You can't do anything yourself, can you?” He turned on his heel and started to walk off, but he turned around when he reached the dressing room door. “Three days,” he spat. “You're on your own after that.”