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Careless Whisper
Author's note: I am sure that there are lots of gay bars in Memphis, but I've never been there, and Buddies is just a pigment of my infatuation, based loosely on the Outside, Regina's premiere gay and lesbian dance bar. The water is for Jon, the staff for Kim and Ed D., and the dancing for Jae. Thanks also to Yada for putting the music in my head while I wrote this. (Two-Faced by Louise and New York City Boy by PSB) ---------- “I feel so unsure,
He knew it was a bad idea from the start. He knew he should have refused. He knew it could get ugly. And he knew that he could never deny Fox anything. ***** It was the last night of their first trip. Away. Away from the office, away from the X-Files and away from anyone who might wonder just what was up with a certain assistant director and the bureau’s number one profiler. Walter had wanted to go camping, Fox wanted to go to Graceland. They had compromised and wound up renting a tent trailer and jeep with a hitch in Memphis. For the duration of their trip, they wound up driving wherever the spirit took them, stopping when they felt like it, often in RV parks, more often just out in whatever wooded area looked appealing, always fairly close to the city. Walter’s need for seclusion and rugged outdoorsmanship was satisfied, and Fox was content knowing he was never more than a day’s drive from fast food and 24 hour convenience stores. Fox let Walter skip the trip to the” Mecca”, and in return, Walter let Fox wear his aviator shades to bed that night, and even managed not to laugh when, just before sleep claimed him, he heard his lover mutter, “thank you; thank you very much.” Now it was the last night, and Fox wanted to go dancing. Walter tried on a surly superior frown at this suggestion, but after two weeks of long hand holding walks, even longer starlit conversations, and, of course, hours of mind numbing sex, the look just didn’t fit so well anymore. “I thought we could spend our last night here,” he said. ‘Here’ was Pandora’s RV Park, an all-amenities included park situated approximately half an hour’s drive from the city. There were plenty of trees and grassy fields surrounding it, providing the illusion of primeval forest, while still preserving the urban needs of the campers there, including shower and bathroom facilities, power and water. “According to Damron’s Guide, Buddies is supposed to be the best club in the city.” Fox replied. He was quiet for a moment, letting Walter process this, then he reached over and took his lover’s hand, held it for a moment and said, “I’d really like to do this, Walter. Once we go back…” He didn’t need to finish the statement. Walter knew, even with friends as supportive as Dana Scully and the Lone Gunmen, so long as he and Fox both worked for the federal government, in their supervisor/agent roles, fighting a shadowy government conspiracy that threatened their lives daily, there would be no pride parades in their future. Not that he needed to confirm the love he felt for his partner with any sort of public displays, but still, he understood how Fox felt, knowing all about those days where just being able to walk across the common hand in hand, or stand in a loose embrace in front of the monument, would have been just about the finest feeling ever. Still, this was a gay bar Fox was talking about. They had read the guidebook together before the trip, laughing over some of the descriptions, but not really serious about visiting any of the clubs, bars, baths or bistros that Damron recommended. At least, Walter hadn’t been serious. He apparently had missed the boat on Mulder’s feelings. He vaguely remembered that Buddies was a dance club, all ages, all genders, with strippers on Fridays and lesbian pool tournaments every second Wednesday. Today was Saturday. And tomorrow, they would return the car and trailer to the rental company and fly back to the land of suits and ties, paperwork and meetings, secrets and closets… Walter stood up and brushed a kiss across Fox’s brow. “All right. But you’re buying.” The strong hug and lingering kiss of thanks made him very comfortable with his decision. ***** Walter drove while they were on the highway, but let Fox take over when they stopped to fill the Jeep with gas at a station on the outskirts of the city, knowing that his lover’s amazing memory would get them to Buddies quicker than any number of maps he might try to navigate with. Not having to concentrate on traffic, lights or directions gave Walter plenty of opportunity to observe Fox while he drove. He drank in the sight of his lover like a thirsty man in the desert, thinking he could never get enough. Both men had availed themselves of the showers at the campsite, and Fox’s hair was still damp, slightly curling at the base of his skull. Not for the first time, his hair made Walter think of a mink pelt, both the texture and the colour, and he gave into the impulse to stroke the other man’s head, just for a moment. Fox glanced over and smiled. Mulder wore plain blue jeans, slightly worn but serviceable, a white sleeveless t-shirt, and a simple gray v-neck sweater over it. Completing the outfit with black runners with white accents gave him a college-boy air that made Walter feel slightly dirty. Deciding that he wasn’t uncomfortable with this, he reached over and squeezed Mulder’s thigh lovingly. He was given another spectacular smile in return. He didn’t realize that he didn’t really look the part of a chicken hawk tonight, regardless of Mulder’s attire. He was dressed all in black. Black chinos, black shoes, black lycra/cotton polo, all hugging muscular curves tight enough to accent, not tight enough to bind. Despite the approving leer he had received from Fox after dressing, he felt a little ridiculous, like an old man trying to grasp at the vestiges of youth. Part of him wished he owned contact lenses, and still had hair. He wasn’t the co-dependent type, by any stretch, but every now and then, he wondered just what the hell Mulder saw in him. Mulder found the nightclub in short order. He parked the Jeep around the back of the building, turned off the car and undid his seatbelt. Then he turned to his lover and took Walter’s face in his strong hands. “Thank you, Walter. I appreciate this. I really do.” “Fox-“ Mulder cut him off with a kiss. Then, still holding him, he said, “I know that this is unusual for you-hell, I've never been a club kid, even when I was a kid-“ He smiled so sweetly that Walter felt his chest tighten, then continued. “I just want to be somewhere where I can be myself, with you, and not be always wondering who’s waiting to cross us, to hurt us. I want them to be watching me, not because I'm a threat to an ongoing government conspiracy, but because I am with the most handsome man in the world, and I love him." Walter was a little stunned by the speech, and more than a little moved. His self-doubt evaporated in the heat of Mulder’s confession, and he found himself kissing the other man tenderly on the cheek, thinking he would like to continue this conversation, preferably in bed, preferably naked, but… “Let’s go, Fox, and I’ll show them who’s with handsome.” Fox basked in the glow of Walter’s smile as they exited the vehicle and walked around to the front of the building. ***** They had to sign in and pay a cover charge at the front door. Fox did this for them, while Walter read the signs on the walls of the foyer proclaiming this a gay space with discretion assured. There were also ads for drag shows and workshops that were taking place in the weeks to come, but Walter’s eyes kept going back to the disclaimer of privacy, and he was soothed by it. The automatic door lock buzzed as the girl at the front door unlocked it for them, and Fox opened the door, holding it for Walter, who took a moment to glance at the guest book before entering the nightclub. Once inside, he turned to Fox with a cynical grin. “I always thought if we hyphenated, my name would go first.” Fox had signed them in as C. and J. Mulder-Skinner. A concession to discretion coupled with a blatant display of their relationship. “Alphabetical order, Walter. It’s what keeps the world revolving.” “So, I’ll order my scotch before your vodka.” They walked up a short flight of stairs, hearing the bass thump of dance music growing louder as they went deeper into the building. Walter wasn’t sure if he liked it, but Fox was growing more animated as the sound increased, and he took Walter’s hand as they entered a large dark room. Dark, that is, except for the multi-coloured lights illuminating a large dance floor crowded with sweaty men and women writhing and jumping to the music. Booths lined one side of the dance floor, and were crowded with more people. The bar itself was at the back of the room, a long angled affair with a serving and bussing area at one end, and a line of barstools across the front. About half of these were occupied with men sipping drinks, talking animatedly (the only way one could talk and hear oneself above the din), and watching the dance floor. Walter made a beeline for the bar, his hand still clutched in Mulder’s, so he wound up nearly dragging the younger man along with him. Fox couldn’t keep his eyes off the dance floor, and, as they waited in the short lineup for their drinks, Walter couldn’t keep his eyes off Fox. Mulder was tapping his foot, not impatiently, but rather, almost in time to the music. His eyes darted around the room, wide and excited, looking at the lights, the colours (the ones he could distinguish, anyway), and the people. He kept a firm grip on Walter’s hand. They reached the front of the line, and a slight, bespectacled man in a white t-shirt and jeans read Walter’s lips as he attempted to order their drinks over the music. In short order he had a rocks tumbler choked with scotch and ice and a tall glass of double vodka-orange in front of him, and he yelled out a price that Walter couldn’t hear. He let go of Fox’s hand and reached into his back pocket for his wallet, offering the bartender a large bill, assuming it was enough. When he received his change, he threw a generous tip into a fishbowl next to the till, and was given a shy, almost flirtatious smile for his troubles. He smiled back, albeit a bit tightly, then picked up the drinks and handed the screwdriver to Fox. They stepped away from the serving area and found two empty barstools. Walter immediately sat down, feeling a little out of his depth, and took a sip of his scotch, wrinkling his nose at the less than perfect blend that must be the house brand. He resolved to find out if they had Glenfiddich before ordering again. Fox stood next to him, holding his cocktail but not drinking it. He shifted idly from foot to foot, keeping a restless beat, watching the dance floor. One arm slipped around Walter’s shoulder, one hand rested on the back of his neck. Walter reciprocated with an arm around the younger man’s waist, relishing the public display of affection more than he thought he would. They stayed that way for several minutes, quietly enjoying each other’s company, oblivious to the looks they were getting from some of the women and most of the men. After a while, one man approached them. He was dark-haired and dark-eyed, young and smiled charmingly at them both, then turned his attention to Fox. “Dance?” he had to yell to be heard. Fox smiled, almost nodded, then shook his head and replied “Maybe later.” The other man shrugged to show no hard feelings, and walked away. Walter finished his drink. He set his empty glass on the bar behind him without looking, then used both hands to pull Fox into an embrace, so that he was now standing in between Walter’s legs with his back to him. He kept his arms around his waist and rested his head on his shoulder. He felt rather than heard Fox sigh contentedly. He put his mouth close to his ear and said, “You can dance if you want to.” “I’m just fine, Walter,” Fox turned his head so the other man could hear him. “Just letting you know.” The bartender tapped Walter on the shoulder, and he reluctantly let loose of Fox to spin on the barstool and face the bar. Using a kind of sign language that would have made Marlee Matlin’s head explode, Walter indicated that the bartender should pour him a shot of Glenfiddich, or risk his uber-surly wrath. An extra generous portion of scotch earned the bartender an extra generous tip, and Walter turned back to his lover, who had moved slightly forward, towards the dance floor. He had barely touched his drink. Walter touched his back, lightly, but Fox startled just the same, then turned to him with a smile. “I know this song,” he said brightly. “Go dance.” “Come with me.” Fox held out his hand. Walter smiled but shook his head. “I dance like Frohicke fucks, hon: not very often and not very well.” Fox laughed loud enough for the bartender to look up from the dishwasher full of shooter glasses that he was emptying. “Go. I’ll keep your seat warm.” As he said this, Walter brushed his hand across Fox’s butt, softly but with a certain proprietous air that made Fox shiver. He shook it off and set his drink on the bar, looked Walter square in the eye, making sure that this was perfectly okay with him. After all, it had been his idea to come here, and he didn’t want Walter thinking he was abandoning him. That made him smile-the thought of Fox Mulder, king of abandonment issues, worrying about leaving someone else. Walter gave him an inappropriate kiss on the nose, then gently pushed him towards the dance floor. ***** Fox Mulder was never going to win any dance contests. He was no Fred Astaire; he wasn’t even a passable Ginger. What he was, though, was utterly absorbed in the task at hand, and it gave him an edge. He listened to music the way he profiled criminals. He found every detail in the song, every hidden nuance, every note, every beat. He paid attention. And remembered everything he found. Then he turned his body to what he learned. He didn’t follow a set pattern. He followed his intuition. He let the music tell him how to move, when to move, where to move. Walter watched him intently, and watched others watching him too. Walter had heard once that to know how a person was in bed, you only had to watch them dance. In this case, that bit of folklore was one hundred percent accurate. Fox was all sinuous curves, gentle thrusts and fluid motion. He seemed oblivious to the people dancing around him, and Walter smiled, knowing exactly how self-absorbed his lover could be when focused on something that was important to him, something that he enjoyed. Walter swirled the last few ice cubes around the last bit of scotch in his glass, still watching Fox dance, and was surprised to discover that he was actually enjoying himself. He wondered if he should have another drink, then, looking up and noticing Fox walking off the dance floor towards him, he chose instead to order two bottles of water. Timing is everything, he thought, as he held out one bottle to Fox, who took it with a grateful smile. His skin shone with perspiration and his hair was slightly damp. He took a long swallow of designer H2O, then set the bottle down on the bar and peeled off his sweater. The bar was loud enough to mask Walter’s audible intake of air, but Fox certainly didn’t miss the way his lover’s eyes roamed over his body; the room suddenly felt warmer, and he reached for his water. Walter looked at Fox, now wearing just the sleeveless t-shirt and jeans, and relished the way the damp cotton shirt clung like a second skin to Fox’s lean though muscular torso. He had a sudden urge to reach out and claim that chest, with hands and mouth, and he felt the first stirrings of arousal, making his pants suddenly feel too tight, in a maddenly itching sort of way. Out of the crowd, the dark-eyed boy who had approached Fox previously was back. He grinned again at the two men, then turned exclusively to Fox. “How ‘bout that dance now?” he inquired loudly. With a nod and a smile, Fox handed his now empty water bottle and sweater to Walter, and followed the younger man back out to the dance floor. Walter took a long moment to appreciate the fact that his lover looked just as good going as coming, letting his eyes rest on the other man’s buttocks for just long enough that Fox looked back. The dance lights prevented Walter from noticing the flush in Fox’s cheeks. He fell back into the music with all the abandonment he’d shown earlier, and Walter was left to watch again, his own drink forgotten as he quenched a thirst of a different sort. He held Fox’s damp sweater to his chest where the scent of his lover could just reach his nose, and felt the heat inside him rise another notch. As the high-energy song that Fox and the young man were dancing to moved to it’s conclusion, the deejay skillfully mixed into the next song, this one less frantic, more funky, and the dancers on the floor changed their moves accordingly, becoming less about arms and legs and more about hips and shoulders. Walter appreciated his lover’s frankly sexual moves on the dance floor, then noticed that someone else was appreciating them, too. The boy dancing with Fox was moving closer and closer to the other man, but Fox had his eyes closed, totally absorbed in the music, and was oblivious to the moves of his dance partner. Walter thought now that maybe this had been a bad idea. That maybe he had been wrong in agreeing to come here tonight. He thought this might get ugly. These thoughts passed through Walter’s mind in less time than it takes to tell, and he shook them off easily. He knew what he had to do, and he thought he just might be able to do it. Hell, he was on vacation, after all. He stood, straightened out an invisible crease in his pants, then, still holding Fox’s sweater in one hand, strode purposefully out onto the dance floor. The other patrons afforded him wide berth, seeing the intense focus in his eyes, not to mention the sheer muscle mass he carried with him. The rude looks he might have gotten for bullying his way so brazenly across the floor melted quickly into appreciative glances at his chest, his crotch, his ass. Not his face, though-anyone could see he was a man on a mission, and had no time for eye contact. In a moment he was standing beside the boy who was attempting to make physical contact with his lover. With one great paw of a hand to the shoulder, he set the boy aside, gently though, and gave him a smile to show that, while there were no hard feelings, the man dancing with him was definitely not up for grabs, not even little ones. The young man merely shrugged and turned, still dancing, now perusing the crowd for another likely target. Walter watched Fox’s hips for just a moment to note their movement, then stepped boldly into his lover’s space, thrusting his body forward so they were touching each other leg to leg, groin to groin, chest to chest. Fox’s eyes flew open, and Walter gave him a hard grin, looking deep into his hazel eyes before wrapping an iron-strong arm around his neck and turning his face to the side with one large hand. He then swooped down on Fox’s ear, nipping at the lobe, then scouring the shell of it with his tongue-gently, but with a great sense of ownership. Lastly he found the ultra-sensitive skin just behind his ear and nuzzled softly there with lips and teeth. Fox was awash in sensation. The bass-heavy music, the suddenness of Walter’s attack on his body, the heat of the nightclub, all combined to seduce his senses, and he felt himself growing hard. He was overwhelmed by Walter’s strength, unable to pull away, not that he wanted to, as Walter ground their hips together, surprisingly still to the beat of the music, and continued to torture his neck and ear in a way that he knew Fox loved. The younger man felt his heart start to hammer in his chest, and his breathing quickened. Walter whispered in his ear, “Let’s go.” He got no argument as he led a dazed and highly aroused Fox Mulder off the dance floor. to be continued...in the Return to Innocence.
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