Archive of Our Own ^beta

Your name is Dirk Strider. By the time your cab pulls up to the Mirage, you’re sick of the Las Vegas traffic. That’s what you get for being lazy during rush hour, which seems to drag on well into the night, here. You pay the cabbie, your façade as stoic as always, and step out into the disturbingly hot summer night. A quick check on your iPhone tells you that it’s 96 degrees out. Even with your usual immunity to Texan heat, this is awful.

You can already feel your shirt sticking to your body. Not wanting to deal with the heat further, you rush inside, waving off various maitre d’s and their begging to assist you. Despite never having been here before, you got this shit.

Phone still in hand, you smoothly type out a message to RoLal.

I’m here. Where are you?

You wander the vast ground floor of the Mirage, silently enjoying the beautiful decorations set up throughout the resort. You’ll also never get sick of snooty businessmen shooting you judging glances. You know that they’re just sick with envy at the fact that you can pull off the spiky-blond-hair-plus-pointy-anime-shades look and they can’t.

You’ve passed through at least a couple of bars and plenty of noisy slot machines before you feel a buzz in your pocket, accompanied by an irritating jingle. You fish the phone out.

look 4 teh blakc jack table xo

You stop a staff member and ask for directions. She’s all too eager to help, like an excited dachshund puppy that is yet to master the art of being enthused and not pissing itself. It takes you another ten minutes of traversing endless casino terrain to get to the blackjack corner of the resort, even with her directions.

You’re not surprised that there’s not just one table, and they’re all crowded with people. Roxy’s lack of specificity is impressive. You unlock your phone and begin to text her again.

There’s more than one. What’re you wearing?

Her response is prompt this time.

so foward! and its not even 8pm yet!! ;0

I don’t feel like playing those types of games right now, Rox. Who are you sitting near? Hopefully someone’s noticeable enough for me to see.

im the hawt mess with the less hawt but bigrge mess hittn on me

hes rlly sweaty

n smelly

save me1

Now that she mentions it, you notice the underlying scent of someone who hasn’t bathed or bothered with deodorant for a week or so. You scrunch your nose up with distaste, but know you have to follow it. Grudgingly, you do so. At the end of your metaphorical trail of breadcrumbs, you find a tall, greasy-haired man, stammering out awkward pleasantries at a much smaller, much prettier woman of your age. Her blonde hair, bright pink dress, and martini glass are a dead giveaway.

Roxy is pretty drunk, swaying lightly in her seat. She’s leaning on the table in an unconsciously seductive manner, though she’s leaning away from the man next to her. Her eyes are flickering back and forth between the dealer, the cards, and her suitor. You step up behind her, readying yourself. You tap her on the shoulder, and before you know it, she’s bouncing away from her chair with so much might she may have knocked it over, and she’s in your arms.

DIRK MY LOVE UR SO MUCH PRETTYER NOT BEHIND A GROSS COMP SCREEN SMOOOOCHIE

Nice to see you too, babe.

care 2 join me for sum 21??

I’ll just watch, thanks.

You help her back into her chair, and seat yourself in the one next to her. You have to dodge her grand gesturing at the cards and plentiful chips before her.

feast ur eyes on my bootiful luck!

I’m pretty sure blackjack doesn’t involve any booty, which is a dismal fact of life. But, sure, my eyes will gladly inhale this delicious feast.

ugh yor metaphors ar juts as ridic irl

And you’re just as schwasted in real life as you are online. I can practically hear your typos.

The sweaty man that Roxy was previously indulging in conversation quickly excuses himself from the table, his stench following him.

He seemed nice.

hes the 1 who got me my booze

wat a sweetie

even tho he rlly needed a shower

lol ;D

I’ll take your word for it. Blackjack?

now ur speakin my lingo

With a nod to the dealer and plenty of chips pushed forward, the game resumes. Your attention is mostly divided between keeping track of the high and low value cards that are drawn and keeping tabs on Roxy’s moves and overall disposition; a small part of you is also assessing your own feelings in the situation.

Here you are, in Las Vegas for the first time, on business. Your Bro has to be at a fancy movie premiere at the Bellagio, and he’s put you in charge of taking his calls and whatnot while he makes nice with other executives, or while he “sucks The Business’s Thick Throbbing Cock,” as he calls it. He was kind enough to not drag you along with him, and instead, gave you his company phone and free reign of the city. You turned the thing off as soon as he left the hotel to attend some dinner.

You could’ve easily said no to the offer to come with him, but you found out that one of your best online chums was going to be in the area, as well. You figured, what the hell, can’t hurt.

You’ll admit that you’re a tiny bit nervous, but your fulltime poker face would never show it. You’ve never met Roxy in real life, despite the decade-long history you and your mutual online friends have. Sitting next to her right now is strange for a few reasons: one, you can’t help but flash back and forth between when you two were teenagers and now, comprehending all of the change that’s happened; two, it’s a very different experience to be face-to-face with someone compared to talking to them online. Your body treats it like you’re going on a blind date, filling you with all sorts of nervousness, expectations and fears, but your brain keeps trying to reassure you that you know Roxy, probably better than anyone you’ve met before. And you know that she knows you in that same way. Needless to say, this maelstrom of human emotions within you is annoying and confusing.

You wonder if Roxy is in a similar place as you. Since you’ve arrived, she’s ordered a couple of dry martinis for herself (she offered you one, but you politely declined, bullshitting some contrived metaphor regarding not wanting to drink so early in the night). Her face is red, but that’s probably from the booze. She can’t stop smiling, but that seems in character. Who knows if it’s because she’s with you? She keeps flirting with the dealer and occasionally with you, but again, that's probably just Roxy being Roxy. She’s unreadable.

The only thing that you do perceive is that Roxy’s doing fantastically at blackjack, and keeps betting a lot of money.

After several rounds of closer observation, you realize your calculations are lining up pretty accurately with what hers must be. Roxy’s counting as well, and making a decent profit.

You text her from under the table.

wat??

I’m keeping count with you. Let’s bail. I have a game that neither of us can cheat at that’ll be more fun.

siiiiign

You almost regret not letting her continue, since now you’ll have to interact with her more directly. You slap yourself inwardly, knowing that you’re much cooler than this. No need to run and hide, Strider. Roxy is your number one fan, next to Bro, and she’ll gobble up anything you throw at her and worship the ground you walk. Sure, she’ll outwardly make fun of you—maybe—but you know she adores you. If you were talking to Bro right now, he’d be like, “Steel your nerves, kid. You’ve got this bitch in the sack. Her box is gift-wrapped and addressed to you and only you. So open that shit.”

Well, you don’t know if you “want this bitch in the sack”, nor her “box”, but Bro’s sexual metaphors apply to your awesome platonic relationship with Roxy. At least, you hope so.

You don’t realize that you blankly followed her around while she cashed in her winnings until she’s poking you hard in the sternum.

heloooo knokc knock anyone homeeee??

Yeah. Sorry for checking out, there. Have plenty of things that need attending to in my head. You know how it goes. This time you don’t have AR to keep you company.

Sure, you’re definitely kinda a pussy when it comes to real life interaction, and you’re sucking some serious dick at talking with your best friend.

sureeeeee

so what do u propose we do for cutesy rl bondin tiem distri? :3 

Let’s do something that neither of us can cheat at.

?

Some sort of game. We can decide on what. Not some kiddie-shit, though. Let’s make this NC-17.

ohoooo

r u mayhasp proposin turnin tonite into a porno?

gonna jump my bones dirky??

Um… probably not? I was thinking we could just play the War drinking game or some shit.

loooooool

pussy <3

Yeah, yeah, you don’t need another reminder.

-

After plenty of back-and-forth snark and indecision on the way to Roxy’s hotel room, you two settle for War. The rules are simple, you declare: divide a deck of cards evenly, both of you draw cards, whoever’s number is lower takes a drink and loses their card to the other player. You continue until one person has taken the entire deck. If both players draw the same card, count out four cards, with the final face up, and the highest value wins the entire stack. You figure that both of you will be plenty entertained for the time being, while also giving you the chance to get as comfortable with Roxy as you are online.

You’re far from surprised to learn that Roxy keeps a portable liquor cabinet when she travels, so you are in no booze deficit. Her drink of choice is gin and diet lime tonic, and you a tequila sunrise, except with shitty orange soda in lieu of actual orange juice.

hmmm i woudnt peg u for a swete drink guy

What do you peg me for? Or would you not peg me at all?

hahahahaha

omg

u rlely r all sorts of homo

I don’t see what’s so homo about that. Jeez, Rox, open your mind to not-vanilla sexual practices, why don’t you?

You situate yourselves on the floor of the hotel room, drinks close-by. You begin shuffling the deck of cards, the backs of them emblazoned with the Mirage’s logo.

doesnt change the fact that u still have a zillion homo hard-ons for jake

Doesn’t change the fact that you still have a zillion hetero lady-boners for Jake.

ugh shut up ur ruinin our date by makin me bitter

Decade-long crushes are hard. They’re hard and no one understands.

except you

Except me.

You finish shuffling and dividing the deck between the two of you. Soon, the game has begun, leaving no time to brace yourself for drinking more than you usually do. The disgusting aftertaste left by tequila and orange soda somehow makes you feel tipsier. Or maybe it’s the fact that Roxy mixed too much tequila and not enough grenadine.

so for a gaem o war

these steaks arent high enough

Are you saying that seeing me drunk isn’t exciting for you?

nooooo it is

but ok see

were gonan get drunk anyway 2nite

y not add somethin spicier to the mix 83

I could add Tabasco to our drinks if this isn’t spicy enough for you. Or maybe I can dish my salsa dancing moves out.

Bet you weren’t expecting that on my resume.

askhdflaks omg gross

lal of that was gross

how abouuuut

you give me lil cal if u lose ;D

Bitch, no. Cal’s mine. He’d never bow to your whim, nor would he fit in with your extensive mutant cat collection.

pffff u just have yur panties in a twist over them hissing at u on skpe

I’ve just never had any pussies react so horribly at the sight of me. Usually they start dripping immediately.

omg vaginas dont do that dirk

hav u evn ever been near one ?

do u need me to hire a vegas girl to deflower yr poor mandhood?

Sick burn, but it’d sting more if I actually was the type of person to get teary-eyed by watching 40-Year-Old-Virgin nightly.

Sorry to disappoint you on my not-being-a-virgin thing. Try again?

dam ;(

well what ARE you gonna bet if u lose dirky?

How about this: I’ll take you out for an expensive Vegas-date if I lose. Shit’s pricey here. Can’t be having a lady pay for everything. Gotta bring chivalry back, but maybe with less sexism.

cuuuute

ok idk what to think of the fact that u didnt jus say that unprompted tho D;

is that all i m to you, a vacation hookup?

It’s not like I already want to date you or anything, baka.

omfggggg :3

…How much tequila DID you put in this, anyway? Jesus.

if were countin with solo cup mesuremeants…

…

… approx a whole cup?

That’s too much tequila, Rox.

That’s not a human-sized portion of tequila.

looool wat an inonvitave observation

*innonvtive wtfever

neways u should speak at uniniversititties about the dangers of tequila

You’re drunk.

WHY I NVR

You two start to laugh even more with your ridiculous responses to one-another. Your poker face is long gone, and you don’t care.

You take inventory of how many cards are left and how much you two have had. Your game is almost done, and the odds are…pretty fifty-fifty. In terms of boozing, you’re almost done with your tequila sunrise and your brain is in absolutely no shape to convert Roxy’s measurements into American measurements. You do notice that she’s probably gone through a few drinks of her own. You’re far from surprised.

In terms of how you’re actually feeling? You’re pretty happy, happier than you’ve been in a while. Talking about absolutely nothing with Roxy, drinking and playing cards… this is a surprisingly nice way to pass the time. You’d do it again. And you really hope you get to.

You never said what you’ll bet if you lose.

mmm ill get bakc to you

Come now, that’s not fair. You make me bet but you won’t? Cheater.

NOT A CHEATER

ok fine you can kiss me if i lose

smooch me up as much as u dam please

You just said that you’re not a cheater, yet you’re expecting me to help you cheat on Jane? Busted, Rox.

fuck u both of us no dan well by now that neither of us are gettin any hawt slooppy action

im doin both of us a favor her

I’ll accept that answer for now, but you can choose not to go that way if you want, if I win. Your rain check is granted—use it as you please.

screw rain checks

She leans over the cards, her movements oddly blurry, and her lips land heavily on yours. To call it a kiss would be an insult to the teleology of kissing. But, okay, your lips have met. Your head is spinning. She eases into your lap, wobbling and knocking all of the cards over in the process, but eventually situates herself. She keeps kissing you and you realize more and more that you’re okay with that.

When she grabs your hand and places it on one of her boobs, you cease kissing her abruptly.

We shouldn’t…

She pouts.

why not

I’m not a fan of drunken sex, no matter how much previously-established consent.

wow u really are a sj nerd

cutiepie <3

I’d also rather remember our first sexual encounter in full clarity.

gaaaaaayyyyy

That’s the general consensus, yeah.

can we at least cuddle?

i mean

its not like ive wanted to snuggle up to my boy bbfsy 4 the last decade or w/e

baka

Ditto.

yay <333

You have no energy to be suave, smooth, nor sophisticated. You want nothing more than to cuddle up with your bffsy right fucking now. Aside from your Bro, you’ve never had close friends that are geographically desirable. Suddenly, one of the most important people in your life is on top of you, clinging to you as you ease yourself down onto your back. Moving to the bed seems like a daunting task, and both of you are seemingly apathetic about proper cuddle/sleeping arrangements. 

Time always passes very strangely when you’re drunk. Next thing you know, Roxy is dozing on your chest, content and comfortable. You remove your shades and close your eyes with an uncharacteristically sweet smile on your face.

Your last thought before you fall asleep is that you’ll take her out for that date, anyway.