Chapter Text
It’s not hard to slip and fall into the rhythm the bodies around him are moving to. The floors and walls vibrate with every hit of the bass and the air itself feels alive and tingling, thick with the sound pressure building up in Joe’s ears. He grins and starts bobbing his head, letting his shoulders ease up enough to follow, willing his feet to give into the music and move off the floor. It’s positively freeing to just be and dance. If it wasn’t for the unbearable heat in here Joe would swear it’s the stress itself that’s steaming off him and dripping down his back.
He hits the bar once he gets too dizzy, his head nicely buzzing. Slumping forward, he embraces the cold marble counter like an old friend, numbly remembering that it’s not great that he’s smearing his sweat all over it and weakly wiping at it with his hand while he looks at the bartenders pouring drinks.
“Hey!” he screams over the music, “I need a drink!”
One of the broad backs clad in black actually starts to turn around and Joe isn’t prepared for the handsome face that smirks up at him.
“What are you having?” asks the handsome face in a voice so perfectly accented and deep it sends a shudder through Joe.
He swallows the lump in his throat and pats at the counter a bit more in a poor attempt to hide just how sweaty he currently is. He sniffs and tries to clear his throat but he’s too high to actually appear anywhere close to cool and coughs as he chokes on his spit. The handsome face chuckles at that, leaning against the bar in a way that makes his shoulders look even broader. God, he’s hot , thinks Joe.
“ Are you having something?” he asks again.
Joe laughs then. Getting back his guts, he leans in. “Are you on the menu?”
The bartender smirks again, grabbing a nearby glass and wiping it clean before setting it in front of him. “Afraid not. Vodka, rum, mojitos and jazz like that. All I’ve got.”
Joe leans over the counter again as they are practically screaming at each other over the music. “What are you drinking then?”
“I’m on duty,” says the bartender and drops ice into the glass.
“And when you’re not?”
He laughs and exposes the column of his neck and Joe feels thirsty again. He then shoots him a wide smile that’s all white teeth and stretched cheeks and Joe is set on fire once more. He watches how his deft hands grab a shaker in one hand and two bottles in the other, pouring lazy liquor from up high and then sliding them back onto the counter, shaking the silver container and tossing it behind his back and over his shoulder before sliding the lid open to pour a bright green shot into the glass in front of Joe. He stares at it like a child, mouth open wide. The bartender gives him a wink then and he chokes.
Turning around on his heel, the handsome man turns to tend to his other drunk customers.
“Wait!” Joe attempts to climb on top of the counter. “I didn’t pay.”
He looks back at him while taking another order. “It’s on the house!”
“What? Why?” Joe laughs and almost tips the glass over, quickly grabbing it to treasure it in between his palms.
Taking a few steps back while shaking another drink, the bartender leans back to Joe, not screaming for the first time: “I’m off duty in fifteen minutes.” And with another smile, he’s off again.
It takes a few seconds for the words to settle in Joe’s brain but when they do, he can’t help the grin on his face and almost chugs the drink, something he immediately regrets because it’s actually exactly what he wanted; sweet but sharp, and it tingles his taste buds just right. Time seems to be dragging on now that he’s waiting, even when he spends most of it back on the dance floor, sweating out the rest of his high, and then it seems to completely stop when the beautiful bartender appears in front of him.
The colorful lights make his skin glow and he’s shining with drops of sweat on his face and hanging on the ends of his tousled hair. Joe melts in that moment, he’s sure.
“Do you drink now?” he asks, grinning from ear to ear and offering him the glass in his hand as they both fall into a rhythm that’s more of a lazy walk in place. “You gotta try this. It’s the shit.”
The bartender snorts. “Is it good?”
“The best!”
“I’m Nicky.”
He holds out his hand and Joe takes it.
“Joe.”
They dance until they’re exhausted and then drink until they’re itching to dance again. The club is about to close when they finally emerge from the stairs back onto the beach, pearly with the moonlight leaning against its sands. They thread each others’ steps as Joe leads the way back to his place.
“I’m not that easy to woo, you know,” says Joe as he clutches his hand to his chest.
“Oh,” Nicky giggles, “You aren’t?”
“No no no. I’m an aching romantic soul, Nicky. You must be gentle with me. Hire a mariachi band to sing for me. Stand with a boombox under my window. Bring me flowers.” He muses on, spreading his arms wide to the world while still holding Nicky’s hand, throwing him around.
The laugh that bubbles up from both of them is easy and honest, and Nicky swallows it into a hum as he sinks into thought. Cupping Joe’s hand in his palms, he gets close to him, holding it in between their chests.
“Nicky?” Joe smiles at him, his eyes wider as he leans against the wall Nicky has him crowded against.
“I love you without knowing how,” whispers Nicky into the space between them, “Or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
"So I love you because I know no other way
"than this: Where I does not exist, nor you.”
“So close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
"so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep,” finishes Joe.
They stand in the shadow of an alcove looking into each others’ eyes, into dilated pupils shining with identical spark, trading hot breaths until Joe licks his lips and leans in. They kiss and don’t stop until Joe stumbles them through his door and into the bedroom. And even then it’s only to undress.
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of the carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love and certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
Pablo Neruda, Sonnet XVII