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Wakatoshi pinched his nose and fought the urge to roll his eyes. Reminding himself that he was a national ace, a starter on the national men’s volleyball team, a grown ass man and the object of Semi Eita’s adoration, he waited for the irritation to abate.
It didn’t.
To be fair, he was seated at the bar of Badlands, the club owned by his boyfriend’s cousin, where Eita had worked since university, either as one of the waitstaff, an assistant to one of the professionals based in the Hub, a group of offices in the basement, or, as he was tonight, dancing.
Now, to (again) be fair, Wakatoshi’s love-hate relationship with Badlands had nothing to do with the Badlands crew. Everyone was warmly professional, or, in his team mates Bokuto and Kuroo’s case, friendly. Mayuzumi Chihiro, Badlands owner, Eita’s cousin and a mostly good guy had protected and sheltered Eita after Wakatoshi’s mother had run him off.
So yeah, Wakatoshi loved Badlands for giving Eita the family and security he’d needed after upholding his end of a bargain that had been made without Wakatoshi’s knowledge.
But (and this was a big but) one of the habits Eita had acquired was strip dancing on the odd club night. It wasn’t completely awful, the dances were tasteful and the security was ramped up so no recordings could be made, but it still ticked Wakatoshi off to see people ogling Eita.
And that was why he hated Badlands.
-
Of course, Wakatoshi was not alone in his ire. Slumped in a booth on the wall, Akaashi Keiji was trapped between Konoha and Komi, with Kenma across from him. Like Wakatoshi, he didn’t really hold anything against Badlands. Sure, having people stare at Koutarou when he danced with Eita and Kuroo for an hour onstage was irritating, but Badlands made up for it. Aside from being owned by (a reportedly pansexual male) a decent human being, it was one of the few clubs in Tokyo that didn’t care about your gender or sexual orientation.
Security was always ruthlessly enforced, they catered to most people’s tastes and gay couples could meet up with straight couple-friends and the most they’d get were a few curious looks before a bouncer glared at the offenders.
The only thing that really, to Keiji, made up for Koutarou horsing around onstage with his distant cousin and best friend was that Mayuzumi always, always danced in the top spot. It helped that Kenma wasn’t as unperturbed as he appeared, sure, but in the time since they’d gotten together, Akashi Seijuurou’s tantrums (and he was never to know they all called it that) about Mayuzumi performing were legendary.
Not that anyone, including Keiji blamed or judged Seijuurou. Mayuzumi warranted a second look most days, but when he paraded out in his battered jeans to swing around the pole, grey hair brushing his checks and eyes hazy, he warranted more than looks.
Oh, he got stares and boners and screams. It was not unheard of for guests to orgasm when the most experienced Badlands dancer was in motion.
Shaking his head, Akaashi focused on not drooling over Koutarou. It was allowed, sure, them being boyfriends, but it would feed Bokuto’s ego.
-
Up in the mezzanine (open to all patrons, not simply the elite picked by employees, tonight) Abe Takaya leaned against the bar, grumbling to Mihashi Ren, the bartender. Both national baseball players had most of the winter season off, and Mihashi, at least, had picked up a few shifts to keep busy. Kanou Shuugo and Haruna Motoki, both dancing tonight, were regular staff at Badlands, and it was they the men were watching for.
Wiping glasses, Mihashi nodded, occasionally adding a murmur to his catcher’s diatribe.
He’d come a long way, had Mihashi. Having Nishiura and Abe at his back had helped a lot, sure, but his continued rivalry with other teams and pitchers- Mihoshi and Kanou in particular- had forced him to learn to collect himself. Instead of stuttering and stammering through his sentences, Ren now murmured or spoke in a low voice, happy to be able to speak in measured tones rather than a squeak.
Eyes drifting, he studied the gray haired teen lounging insolently on one of the few armchairs in the mezz. Normally, being one of Mayuzumi’s ‘baby cousins’ (Mihashi personally suspected the gray-haired man claimed all gray haired loners as family) Nakajima would be expected to at least bus tables.
However, he wasn’t alone this time. Usually, Atsushi and his favourite sempai, Edogawa Ranpo took the train up from Yokohama for a few hours of fun every Friday. Instead, they’d brought their entire agency along for someone’s birthday, so ‘Hiro had said Atsushi could have the night off.
-
Eita slumped into a seat between Tendou and Wakatoshi, gratefully accepting the water bottle ‘Hiro dropped in front of him on his way to prepare. Wakatoshi, now that he thought about it, seemed grumpy. Too tired to figure it out, he nursed the bottle as he leaned into Wakatoshi, nodding off only to jump and flinch when Chihiro took the stage, sighing when he realized Akashi was staring stormily at the well lit stage.
-
Bokuto bounced over to Akaashi, happy to done performing. Squirming in behind Konoha, he scooped his former setter into his lap and pressed his face into the back of Keiji’s neck, humming when he dropped his face into his hands with a groan.
-
Haruna and Kanou jogged up the stairs to the mezz together, chuckling over something. Abe stiffened, rolling his eyes dramatically when Haruna tackled him with a cheery smile. Mihashi greeted Kanou with a soft smile, eyes creasing when the other man slid a glance at the other pair, snickering lightly.
-
Fukuzawa Yukichi studied the people around him. Lips pursed, he considered the pair at the bar. Both dark haired, the elder was taller than the younger. The glasses wearing younger man was draped over the man beside him. Not because he was drunk, but because he wanted to be. A hand moving with easy strength slid in the boys’ hair, a firm jaw moving as the man whispered to his companion.
A whisper of clothes at his side.
Glancing, he saw it was Ranpo.
He stiffened when his best detective murmured
“Could be us.” Before moving away.
Indeed.
-
Scowling, Wakatoshi put an arm around Eita, scowl softening when the smaller male yawned and cuddled into him. It had been a bumpy road to get here, but he was happy they’d made it. He loved Eita, dancing and all, and it was so worth being here with him, seeing him happy.
Even if he would hate how Eita drew stares until they were gone.