Chapter Text
Dunk reread his texts for the third time since arriving outside the club Rowan had directed him to. At least, he hoped it was the right club. There wasn’t any sort of sign that he could see on the building, and the GPS on his cheap phone bounced around the surrounding blocks when he checked it. He could pick up the faint sound and feel of heavy bass though, and the line down the sidewalk was for something. Dunk adjusted his backpack before heading around the side to the building.
He managed to decipher Rowan’s rushed and vague instructions to find an employee entrance in a cramped alley, or what he hoped was an employee entrance. Like the front of the place, there was no sign. The metal door was lit from above with a buzzing orange light and had a plate where a handle would have been on another door. Shifting from one foot to another, he thought about looking around some more, but he didn’t want to look like a thief casing the place and Rowan made it clear she needed him to hurry. Taking a fortifying breath, Dunk reached out and knocked heavily.
The door swung open almost immediately. A man with dark hair and kind eyes, dressed in dark clothes was on the other side. He was shorter than Dunk, but most men were shorter than Dunk so that, along with the surprised expression that graced the other man’s face as he peered up at Dunk through the doorway, barely registered.
He spoke before Dunk could, recovering from his shock quickly. “Are you here for the security job?”
“Er, no,” Dunk stammered. “I’m sort of delivering something?” Rowan’s texts hadn’t said anything about security, and as with any conversation, he scrambled for what to say.
“That’s a pity. Giant like you would be useful with the crowd we’re expecting tonight.” The man held his hand out, and Dunk stared dumbly, wondering for a moment if he was supposed to shake it. “I can take whatever it is. Who’s the package for?”
“Oh.” He grabbed at the strap oh his backpack, unsure. It’s not like the backpack itself was important—a falling apart thing Dunk had managed to keep since something like middle school—but he had heard Rowan and the others talk about how much their little bits of clothing and heels costs. He was hesitant to just hand any of them over with no guarantee they would get to where they needed to go. “Well, it’s for one of the dancers for tonight’s thing. She forgot part of her outfit and asked me to bring it by. If I could just bring it to her, I’ll be right out, honest.”
The other man didn’t answer immediately, obviously weighing his options. Dunk did his best to look like anything other than a liar or some kind of hoodlum. Finally, the security guard held out his hand. “I at least have to check your bag. If you aren’t back in ten minutes, we’ll find you and toss you out.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, Dunk handed the backpack over for inspection, knowing there wasn’t anything dangerous in it. It was almost amusing, watching the man blush going through the lacy things Rowan had laid out and forgot to grab, but Dunk felt his own blush flare up at other things that ended up being revealed. Nothing damning, he knew—an extra collar in case one of the dogs he walked somehow breaks theirs, a lost pacifier that must have come from one of his babysitting jobs, a leather strop for his whittling knife that maybe looked like it could be some kind of belt or strap.
He knew it was all harmless, but without any context and the addition of the stripper outfit, Dunk suddenly felt like the biggest pervert in the building.
Thankfully, nothing was said about it. Dunk guessed that as long as it wasn’t an actual weapon or drugs, it was easy enough to overlook. He still had to stop himself from snatching the bag back, and stupidly didn’t listen to the directions he was given in his lingering embarrassment. When he was waved inside, Dunk rushed down the hallway, the pounding of bass echoing inside his chest. He took the first left like he had been instructed, but was he supposed to go up stairs to the right after that, or keep straight and turn down the hall?
Dunk the lunk, thick as a castle wall. Rowan was going to skin him alive for taking so long. Heart pounding along with the music being played somewhere, Dunk chose at random and went up the stairs. He came out in a hallway that was all dim lighting and mirrors, with the music louder than before. For a moment, he walked around, looking for any kind of sign on a door or hint of dancers getting ready, before deciding that he had gone the wrong way after all. He was trying to find the stairway back down, beginning to grow frantic, when he turned a corner and collided with the most beautiful man he had ever seen.
Without thinking, Dunk grabbed the man by the arms to steady him, apologies spilling from his lips. The lace of the other man’s shirt caught against the calluses on his hands, where his fingers buried into the billowing fabric of the sleeves. He let go just as fast, worried about ruining the fabric.
For a drawn-out moment, the two of them stared at each other. He was only a few inches shorter than Dunk. Black and silver curls fell into the stranger’s face, almost obscuring dark eyes that took Dunk in with annoyance and curiosity. Full lips frowned, surrounded by a salt and pepper beard The lace shirt he wore was black and sheer enough for Dunk to see, even in the dim lighting, the dark hair that shadows his arms and chest and stomach, the loose sleeves cuffed with gold bands. More gold shined on his fingers and dangled from one of his ears, and black and gold leather panels made up a skirt that hung to his knees, where the top of heavy boots started.
Dunk felt his stomach flip and face grow hot as he drug his gaze back to the other man’s face, where curiosity was winning.
“Where the fuck did you come from?” he asked Dunk, loud to be heard over the beat pumping in from somewhere else in the building.
Still feeling like he was blindly turning the corner, he almost stupidly said he came from downstairs. “I’m sorry, sir, both—both for not watching where I was going, and being up here. I got turned around is all, and I was trying to find my way back downstairs to find the dancers—”
Dunk only realized how that sounded when the stranger arched a handsome brow at him.
“Not like that!” He hurried to say as his ears burned. “I’m roommates with one of the ladies—well, more than one of them—I was just bringing part of her outfit for tonight, and I got turned around and I know she’s gonna kill me for not getting it to her by now—”
As Dunk babbled, the other man’s brow raised until he was looking at Dunk with obvious humor, a wide grin revealing even, white teeth and crinkling the skin around his eyes.
“Take a breath, lad,” he interrupted Dunk, clapping him on the shoulder. “We can’t have you fail on your quest and disappoint a fair maid, can we?”
The hand on his shoulder stayed firm, dragging down his arm to wrap around his wrist like an iron band. Dunk nearly tripped over his feet as he was pulled down the hallway with surprising strength.
“Follow me,” the stranger told him over his shoulder, tone cheerful.
Dunk could have stopped him, if he planted his feet and used his size and weight to his advantage. He didn’t, instead following as he was bid, as he was led through a door that looked like any other in the hallway, down the same stairs he had come up, and around the turn Dunk should have gone around in the first place. They entered into a busier area, and he felt his ears burn again at the wide-eyed looks he got from the people they pass. He imagined they didn’t see a lot of giants being dragged around like a child.
Dunk nearly yelped as he was deposited, with a spin and flourish, in front of a plain door with a piece of paper that read ‘Dressing Room’ taped up on it.
“Your destination, sir,” the stranger winks at him.
Still feeling like he was spinning, Dunk knocked on the dressing room door.