Chapter Text
From the outside there’s just a quiet rumble of voices, and the bar looks sleepy and boring and mundane. The exact sort of thing you’d expect to see in the midst of prohibition hell.
But inside- if you know the password and the barkeep-slash-bouncer likes the look of you- there’s a whole other world waiting to be explored…
The first time Roman goes to the speakeasy it’s a Tuesday night and he’s bored stiff, hanging out on the fire escape underneath his living room window while his roommate Virgil talks about revolution or something crazy like that. Communism, it is today actually. The kid’s treading a dangerous path, but Roman knows he’s too cautious to be caught so he doesn’t let himself worry (too much). Virgil is in fact the one that suggests the club- he says he knows one of the performers there and- he adds, with a quick, sly glance at Roman- said performer is almost certainly Roman’s type.
Well, hell if that doesn’t perk him right up out of his funk and get his blood going.
When they descend from grey reality into what Roman can only describe as some kind of subterranean corner of heaven he thinks he may actually have died. And if he hasn’t then he sure as hell hopes this is what awaits when he does, because hot damn.
His first drink is on the house because he’s a newbie, and he bravely takes the shot he’s handed, wincing at the powerful after taste and grimacing along when the jovial patrons laugh good-naturedly at his misfortune, clapping him on the back and welcoming him into the fold. The handsome, quick-fingered bartender takes up most of Virgil’s attention from then on as they chatter about workers’ rights or something, but he spares Roman enough to briefly let him know that his friend’s act will be up soon. And boy, what an act…
The first time Roman sees the Charmers perform is a memory he cherishes for the rest of his life. They’re… so… unbelievable. Temptation wrapped up in promise with a hint tease on top. One calls herself Sybil and one goes by Beauty, and both of them are out of this world gorgeous. So gorgeous that Roman has to awkwardly adjust himself more than once while they dance and sing seductively from the cramped stage. He’s close enough to see the sweat and glitter mixing on their skin, and be blinded by the flash and glitz of sequins covering their bodies as they move, and somehow despite the crowd it feels like they’re singing right to him the entire night.
He’s in love.
The first time he talks to them it goes something like this;
“I’m love your Roman, act?! Wait, I love your act! I’m Roman, uh, Virgil brought me,” he introduces himself with two drinks (their favourites; the knowledge bribed from the bartender) and a charming grin. Beauty coos behind her sunglasses, pushing them up to reveal deep brown eyes and long fluttery eyelashes, and takes hers. Sybil is a little more hesitant but puts out an elegant gloved hand for him to kiss like a fairytale prince, which he eagerly does, before accepting the offering graciously.
They let him sit them down and flirt with them for hours, soon warming from vague amusement at his attempts to actually getting along fairly well and holding a more-than-decent conversation. It turns out they both have wicked tongues and an unholy sense of humour, and they can take just as much as they dish out, their low, smoke-over-velvet voices mixing with his brighter brassy tones as they laugh the night away.
Virgil is apologetic when he comes to collect him long after the club has closed, tucked away in a corner. He’s massaging Beauty’s shoulders while sharing a smoke with Sybil and they’re all three of them sorry to be parted. Beauty drapes herself over him with a pout until Sybil drags her off, with a promise from Roman to return every night,
He’s so in love.
The first time he meets Remy and Dee is actually the second. He’s hungover as fuck and confused when he wakes up in an unfamiliar bed, memory of the night before all just a blur. From another room comes a distinctly more familiar humming, and the sound of low voices and the smell of breakfast lure him out of bed to investigate.
He wanders in in just his underwear, never one to be shy, to find the Charmers waiting for him. Beauty introduces theirself (again, they sigh with fond exasperation) as Remy and Sybil (who is equally amused) is Dee by daylight, and its him who’s cooking. Remy is wearing Roman’s shirt it turns out, and is overly innocently clueless when questioned about it, shrieking with laughter when Roman attacks them with tickles to extract the truth.
And making some very different sounds when he gets distracted by the appealing slice of their sharp collarbone revealed by the unbuttoned collar…
He has a whole missing night to make up for, in his defence. Breakfast can wait.
Bright Young Things they are, and the world is their oyster. Dee has Daddy’s money and a rebellious streak that’s basically his whole personality. Remy is invested in the club and has dreams of running a jazz club of their own one day, and Roman? Is just along for the ride. Sometimes literally, when they pull Dee’s shiny sports car out of hiding and tear up the roads outside the city, getting as far away as they can before the need for fuel makes them turn around, wild and windswept and gloriously alive.
Roman likes it best when they wear their matching scarves for the drive and the floaty material trails in the wind like wings. Although he also likes it best when Beauty kisses his cheek with her deep purple lipstick, making Sybil jealous enough to kiss him silly with her shocking red in front of the whole club to even the score… And also when they’re all sitting together as the bar closes, and his sweethearts are both leaning on him and nearly asleep, letting him take their weight and caress their skin, and croon love songs at them until it’s time to ferry them both home and put them to bed, feeling like a puzzle piece who finally found his jigsaw when he climbs in after them and settles into place where he belongs.
Above all though? He loves them best always.