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serafina20Fic: The Accidental Drag Queen and the Undercover Detective
Fandom: Batman (Nolanverse)
Pairing: Crane/Wayne
Rating: Mature
Summary: Jonathan Crane escaped from Arkham and started a new life in Chicago. Then was forced to start over yet again. Bruce Wayne goes undercover to bring him back to justice.
"And a Ruby Slipper for you and Midnight Express for the bride-to-be," Jonathan said as he placed the drinks in front of the women. He looked around the table of mildly sloshed women and plastered a smile on his face. "So, your food will be right out. Is there anything else I can get you?"
"You're pretty," one of the women, the maid of honor, said loudly. She got to her feet and slung her arm around him. "Are you really a guy?"
Carefully, Jonathan unwrapped the woman's arm from his neck. "Yes, I am," he said, not changing his voice from the softer one he used while in costume. "And if you don't sit back down, sweetie, I'm going to have to cut you off for the night."
"I’m not drunk, I swear," she said, still practically shouting in his face. "Are you allowed to dance? Cause I'd love to dance with you." She touched her fingers to his face.
His smile became more forced. "I've got other tables. But thanks for the offer." He removed her hand from his face and left.
"Very good, Sugar," Buzz said when Jonathan returned to the bar. "I didn't worry once that you were going to douse them with a drink. And you kept your smile the whole time. Cherry was right about you."
Jonathan gave a shadow of a smile as he leaned against the bar. He eased one foot out of his shoe and flexed his toes, rolling his ankle.
Buzz was about forty-five and liked to be called by the nickname he got in college, even in drag. He was married and had a five year old kid. His wife knew about Buzz's habit of dressing up like a woman and was fully supportive. She even came to the club once in awhile.
His style was conservative, at least while at the club. He wore dress suits or tasteful cocktail outfits. His make-up wasn't nearly as overdone as the performers (or even some of the waitresses). No one ever mistook buzz for a woman, though. There was something incredibly masculine about his face, even with the eyeliner and lipstick. He didn't have a female name and didn't want to be called by feminine pronouns; he was a man, and proud of it, he explained to Jonathan, he just loved women's clothing.
He'd been hesitant to hire Jonathan at first. Even though he was in the practice of hiring people who needed a job and quickly, he wasn't sure about taking someone off the street with no ID. Jonathan promised to produce ID the next day (he'd bought five identities when he'd left Gotham).
And then Cherry suggested an audition of sorts. She'd dressed Jonathan up, gave him a wig, did his make-up, and then showed him off to Buzz.
He'd been hired immediately. Cherry had taken him home with her; the next day, Jonathan had retrieved his spare clothes, IDs, medication, and toxin canisters and moved into Cherry's spare room.
His training lasted two weeks. There was a large supply of clothes at the club that the waitresses were welcome to use, but Cherry thought Jonathan would be more comfortable if he had some of his own. She and the others at the club taught him how to dress, do his make-up, and walk. With Jonathan's own natural economy of movement, he appeared feminine without trying. It only took a day or two to master heels, although he insisted, for his own comfort, on low heels. Most of the waitresses used them, anyway.
His only real difficulty was interacting with the customers, and that's what had Buzz continually watching him like a hawk. Jonathan was not, by nature, a patient man. He hated talking to people, much less wait for them to make up their minds on a drink or dinner. And having to answer questions was almost physically painful to him.
He got no tips at all the first two days he worked. The third day, he was tipped five bucks by a man who thought Jonathan was "the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." Buzz got more complaints on Jonathan the first week than he'd ever received on anyone before.
That's when Cherry and another waitress, Raven, sat Jonathan down.
"Look, Sugar," Cherry said, "you've got to shape up and fast or you'll be out of a job again. You can't scowl and snap at our customers. You don't make them happy, they don't stay for the show, and if I don't get my applause I'm a bitch."
"She really is," Raven agreed. Raven was a few years younger than Jonathan and, like Jonathan, was easily transformed into a pretty girl with a dress and a few smears of make-up. She'd been working at Dreamgirls for two years, had met her current boyfriend there, and, for some reason, had warmed to Jonathan right away. She was bright and witty, with a quick mind. Almost tolerable in Jonathan's opinion.
"Look," Raven continued, taking Jonathan's hand. "Customers are nothing but marks. They're like babies. Mental patients. They need someone to listen to them, to guess what they want, to smile and tell them everything will be okay."
"You're an actor just as much as I am," Cherry said. "When you put the dress on, you become someone else. You're not Sean Miller anymore. You're Sugar, a beautiful young ingénue." Cherry ran her knuckles down Jonathan's cheek. "Put a smile on that pretty face, darling. Save the scowling for home."
Jonathan had listened to their advice. Taken it in. He spent the next night sitting at the bar, in drag, even though it was his night off, and watching Raven and the other waitresses. Watching Raven as she flirted and smiled with the customers. Saw how she watched her tables, watched everyone from the corners of her eyes and, through the observation, anticipated her customers needs.
He could do that. Jonathan had been Arkham Asylum's youngest director. He'd been a renowned psychiatrist. He could figure out how to wait a table.
The next night, he did a lot better. He was patient. He anticipated needs. He had water and drinks and food and condiments to the table before his patients even knew they needed it.
"Just work on the smiling," Buzz told him at the end of the night while Jonathan counted his tips.
So he did. In the mirror. As he walked down the street in costume. He even came in on his next night off and sat at the bar, talking to customers as Sugar. Men and woman since, contrary to his initial expectations, the club's clientele wasn't exclusively gay men. On any given night, it was a good mix of both gay and straight. Gay men and women came, of course, but also a lot of straight women. Some straight couples came, but it was rare. Even more rarely did straight men come in. Usually, they were already drunk and either a) didn't look at any of the posters outside or b) came looking for trouble. That hadn't happened since Jonathan had started working, but Buzz and the others had warned him.
So, Jonathan practiced. He flirted. He smiled. And, gradually, it got easier. When he put on Sugar's clothes, Jonathan melted away a little bit more. Sugar was soft, gentle, wry, teasing. She called people, "sweetie" and "honey" and "dear." She didn't mind touching people and being touched.
It was kind of surreal, but in a strange way, Jonathan enjoyed it. It was… nice, taking a break from being himself.
Buzz put his hand on Jonathan's forearm, drawing him back to the present. "As soon as their food comes out, go take a break. Shana will watch your table."
"Thanks, Buzz." Jonathan slipped his foot back into his shoe and smiled.
"And I'll let the bartender know that those girls are cut off."
"Thank you," he said again, this time with real feeling. Jonathan picked up his tray and resumed his work. When he returned with the food, he managed to evade the grabby hands of the bride's friends. The fact that the show had, again, begun helped distract them.
"I'm going on break, so if you need anything, Shana will get it for you," Jonathan said to the cheering mass of women.
He got no acknowledgment, but he hadn't expected any. With a sigh, he headed back to the dressing room for his break.
The image in the mirror across from the sofa was much different from the one two weeks ago. His hair was still blond, but his wig was a darker, more honeyed blond than the mess he'd dyed his own hair. It actually complemented his skin tone, making it seem more delicate and pale than washed out. The foundation helped as well, of course, as did the blush that roughed his cheeks. His eyes were still green and almost as startling as they'd been when they'd been blue. Eye-shadow and liner made them sparkle and false eyelashes gave him a starry eyed look.
His lips were fuller than normal, drawn bigger with lip liner and ruby red lipstick. Dangling pearl earrings framed his face, a pearl choker encircled his neck, making it look long and swanlike. His outfit tonight was a deep turquoise, sleeveless Grecian-style dress that gathered into an empire-style waist with a darker blue band embroidered with white starbursts. The same starburst decorated the neckline, and the bottom of the dress was a light, gauzy material that flowed as he walked. His stockings were nude and held up by an unseen garter belt that (God helped him) matched the dress, and his shoes were the same blue with small crystals glued onto the toes.
He wasn't sure how it made him feel, other than like a different person. The person he didn't so much mind, since he did need a break from being Jonathan, at least for awhile, but the clothes themselves…
Cherry had talked his ear off about the myriad of reasons people dressed in drag. How for some it's arousing, some it's a way to express themselves, to break free of boundaries. For some, it was stress relief and some had no reason, they just did.
Jonathan needed a job. This was a way to get money and not have to move again.
But the act of transforming into Sugar did something to him, he knew that. He just couldn't articulate what.
Raven came in just then. Grabbed him by the foot. "Let's go out for air," she said, nodding at the backdoor.
Jonathan groaned. "Can't I just stay?"
"Costume change is coming up. It's up to you." She grabbed her purse from its locker and slung it over her shoulder. "Come on, Sugar."
The door opened again, signaling the oncoming tidal wave of frantically changing drag queens. Jonathan was up and out the back before the first one came.
"Good girl," Raven laughed. She closed the door and sat on the step. "You still don't smoke, right?"
Jonathan rolled his eyes and sat next to her. Raven had asked him the same question every night. She was lucky that Jonathan didn't gas her.
Raven lit his cigarette and lifted it to his mouth. "I think Alex is cheating on me." He dropped his stage voice. Reached up and eased his wig off, setting it on his lap. Underneath, his hair was nothing but stubble, shaved close. It looked strange against his make-up.
"Oh?" Jonathan normally didn't care about his coworkers personal lives, but he found himself receptive to the drama of Dreamgirls. Even petty things like this.
"Things have been different lately. I don't know. He's just… distant. We don't talk. We don't fuck. He says he's just tired from work, but it just…" He sighed. Taped some ash from the end of his cigarette. "You got anyone?"
"No."
"Cherry said you were all banged up when she found you. Did you have a boyfriend who beat you or something?"
"No." Even in a casual conversation like this, Jonathan found it difficult to drop his softer voice. When he was in the dress, he was Sugar and couldn't switch like Raven did.
Raven cut his eyes towards Jonathan. "Are you gay?"
He had no answer for that. He'd never been in a relationship before, preferring work and study over everything else. Once, in college, he'd been dragged to a party by his roommate. He'd spent most of it, sitting on the couch, watching everyone get drunk. Around midnight, a girl had sat next to him and, with almost no warning, started kissing and rubbing on him.
It'd been… all right.
As for sexual attraction, he supposed he'd felt it before. There had been people he hadn't been able to keep his eyes off, people who'd made him feel hot and aroused. He had wet dreams, and had to masturbate on occasion. He just never really thought about it beyond momentary feelings.
"I don't know," he finally said. He looked away.
"Are you bi?"
"I don't know."
There was silence. Then, "Well, if you ever want to find out, you know my number. I'd be happy to do some experimenting with you, Sugar."
Jonathan suppressed an embarrassed smile. "You have a boyfriend."
"Tonight. That might change."
"Oh." He tapped his nail on his teeth. "Have you tried confronting Alex? Asking him?"
"Oh, yeah. Just walk up and say, 'Are you cheating on me?' Yeah, right."
"Maybe you could start with something less inflammatory. Make a date with him, something simple, and then tell him your concerns. Not about the cheating, but… say you feel like you've been growing apart. Tell him how you feel, but don't be accusatory about it."
He sighed. "What if I'm right? I don't know if I could handle it."
"What if you're wrong? What if he's just tired or stressed? What if he needs his boyfriend and doesn't know it? You say you love him. Are you willing to throw everything away on a suspicion?"
Raven sighed. Flicked his cigarette, then brought it to his mouth. He didn't say anything, but Jonathan could tell that his point had been made. He wasn't entirely sure why he'd given the advice, why he'd gotten involved, but it'd felt right. It felt like something Sugar would do.
"Okay. I think our break is over." Raven put his wig back on then stood. "Ah, dammit!"
"What?"
"The door's locked. Buzz said he was going to get this fixed." She tugged it again, then pounded on it.
Jonathan rose, smoothing down his skirt. "You don't have a key?"
"No. Left it inside. Fuck! I think they went back on." Raven turned and leaned against the door. "Okay, so we gotta trek around the front. I should have propped the door open."
"It's not that big a deal," Jonathan said. He moved up the steps and reached up to adjust Raven's wig.
"It's nearly a half-mile to the end of the alley. You got your phone?"
He didn't even have a phone, but he didn't inform Raven of that fact. Just shook his head.
Raven sighed. "Maybe this time, Buzz will follow through and fix the door. Come on."
"Can't we cut through another club?" Jonathan asked as he trailed behind Raven.
She shook her head. "Well, we can, I guess. But it's a hassle. They're not, like, homophobic or anything, but sometimes they give us trouble. Make it harder for us to get back to work. It's better just to walk around." Raven slipped his arm through Jonathan's. "So. Are you a virgin, Sugar?"
His face went up in flames. "What?"
"Well, you don't know if you're gay or bi. Have you ever had sex? Girl or boy."
"I'm not going to answer that question."
"Oh, come on. I won't tell."
"Yes, you will…" Jonathan broke off in a startled shout as he was yanked away from Raven.
An arm fell over his neck like a heavy iron bar. The other was pressed against his face, pressing hair into his eyes.
"Give me your purse, and I won't hurt her," the man holding Jonathan said.
Jonathan tugged at the arm, trying to pull it away, to breathe. His heart pounded wildly and he could feel the anger building in him.
"Okay, man," Raven said, voice shaking. "Just let her go. I'll give you my purse. Just…"
"Hand it over!" he shouted.
The shout echoed in Jonathan's ear. Filled his head until it was overcome with a rush of rage.
He growled, a low, animalistic sound without words. His nails dug into the man's arms and, in a swift movement, Jonathan lifted his foot and slammed it back down in his assailant's instep.
"Fuck!" the man howled. His grip loosened enough for Jonathan to elbow him in the stomach.
The arm let go. Jonathan whirled and brought his foot into the man's groin. As he did, he reached under his skirt. Yanked the canister of fear toxin strapped to his thigh in a gun holster.
"You fucking bitch!"
The side of the gun hit Jonathan in the face. Knocked his wig askew and him off balance. He stumbled. Dropped the canister.
"I'm going to fucking kill you!" He jumped on Jonathan, pushing him against the wall. Hit him again with the butt of his gun.
Jonathan spit in his face. Struggled against him, clawing and scratching and kicking.
Raven threw himself on the attacker. Pulled him away from Jonathan.
Jonathan threw himself onto the ground, scrambling amongst trash for his fear toxin. He could hear them scuffling behind him, hear Raven loosing.
His fingers closed around the canister. He turned.
The attacker was looming over him.
In one swift movement, Jonathan covered his mouth to avoid exposure to the toxin and pressed the button on the canister. The toxic cloud hit the man in the face and a moment later, he was on the ground, screaming.
Jonathan leapt to his feet. Raven was slumped against the wall of the alley, face bruised and bloody.
"Come on," Jonathan said, grabbing Raven's hand. "We need to go." He took one last look at his fallen assailant who was still writhing and screaming on the ground and then ran.
Part 3
Fandom: Batman (Nolanverse)
Pairing: Crane/Wayne
Rating: Mature
Summary: Jonathan Crane escaped from Arkham and started a new life in Chicago. Then was forced to start over yet again. Bruce Wayne goes undercover to bring him back to justice.
"And a Ruby Slipper for you and Midnight Express for the bride-to-be," Jonathan said as he placed the drinks in front of the women. He looked around the table of mildly sloshed women and plastered a smile on his face. "So, your food will be right out. Is there anything else I can get you?"
"You're pretty," one of the women, the maid of honor, said loudly. She got to her feet and slung her arm around him. "Are you really a guy?"
Carefully, Jonathan unwrapped the woman's arm from his neck. "Yes, I am," he said, not changing his voice from the softer one he used while in costume. "And if you don't sit back down, sweetie, I'm going to have to cut you off for the night."
"I’m not drunk, I swear," she said, still practically shouting in his face. "Are you allowed to dance? Cause I'd love to dance with you." She touched her fingers to his face.
His smile became more forced. "I've got other tables. But thanks for the offer." He removed her hand from his face and left.
"Very good, Sugar," Buzz said when Jonathan returned to the bar. "I didn't worry once that you were going to douse them with a drink. And you kept your smile the whole time. Cherry was right about you."
Jonathan gave a shadow of a smile as he leaned against the bar. He eased one foot out of his shoe and flexed his toes, rolling his ankle.
Buzz was about forty-five and liked to be called by the nickname he got in college, even in drag. He was married and had a five year old kid. His wife knew about Buzz's habit of dressing up like a woman and was fully supportive. She even came to the club once in awhile.
His style was conservative, at least while at the club. He wore dress suits or tasteful cocktail outfits. His make-up wasn't nearly as overdone as the performers (or even some of the waitresses). No one ever mistook buzz for a woman, though. There was something incredibly masculine about his face, even with the eyeliner and lipstick. He didn't have a female name and didn't want to be called by feminine pronouns; he was a man, and proud of it, he explained to Jonathan, he just loved women's clothing.
He'd been hesitant to hire Jonathan at first. Even though he was in the practice of hiring people who needed a job and quickly, he wasn't sure about taking someone off the street with no ID. Jonathan promised to produce ID the next day (he'd bought five identities when he'd left Gotham).
And then Cherry suggested an audition of sorts. She'd dressed Jonathan up, gave him a wig, did his make-up, and then showed him off to Buzz.
He'd been hired immediately. Cherry had taken him home with her; the next day, Jonathan had retrieved his spare clothes, IDs, medication, and toxin canisters and moved into Cherry's spare room.
His training lasted two weeks. There was a large supply of clothes at the club that the waitresses were welcome to use, but Cherry thought Jonathan would be more comfortable if he had some of his own. She and the others at the club taught him how to dress, do his make-up, and walk. With Jonathan's own natural economy of movement, he appeared feminine without trying. It only took a day or two to master heels, although he insisted, for his own comfort, on low heels. Most of the waitresses used them, anyway.
His only real difficulty was interacting with the customers, and that's what had Buzz continually watching him like a hawk. Jonathan was not, by nature, a patient man. He hated talking to people, much less wait for them to make up their minds on a drink or dinner. And having to answer questions was almost physically painful to him.
He got no tips at all the first two days he worked. The third day, he was tipped five bucks by a man who thought Jonathan was "the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." Buzz got more complaints on Jonathan the first week than he'd ever received on anyone before.
That's when Cherry and another waitress, Raven, sat Jonathan down.
"Look, Sugar," Cherry said, "you've got to shape up and fast or you'll be out of a job again. You can't scowl and snap at our customers. You don't make them happy, they don't stay for the show, and if I don't get my applause I'm a bitch."
"She really is," Raven agreed. Raven was a few years younger than Jonathan and, like Jonathan, was easily transformed into a pretty girl with a dress and a few smears of make-up. She'd been working at Dreamgirls for two years, had met her current boyfriend there, and, for some reason, had warmed to Jonathan right away. She was bright and witty, with a quick mind. Almost tolerable in Jonathan's opinion.
"Look," Raven continued, taking Jonathan's hand. "Customers are nothing but marks. They're like babies. Mental patients. They need someone to listen to them, to guess what they want, to smile and tell them everything will be okay."
"You're an actor just as much as I am," Cherry said. "When you put the dress on, you become someone else. You're not Sean Miller anymore. You're Sugar, a beautiful young ingénue." Cherry ran her knuckles down Jonathan's cheek. "Put a smile on that pretty face, darling. Save the scowling for home."
Jonathan had listened to their advice. Taken it in. He spent the next night sitting at the bar, in drag, even though it was his night off, and watching Raven and the other waitresses. Watching Raven as she flirted and smiled with the customers. Saw how she watched her tables, watched everyone from the corners of her eyes and, through the observation, anticipated her customers needs.
He could do that. Jonathan had been Arkham Asylum's youngest director. He'd been a renowned psychiatrist. He could figure out how to wait a table.
The next night, he did a lot better. He was patient. He anticipated needs. He had water and drinks and food and condiments to the table before his patients even knew they needed it.
"Just work on the smiling," Buzz told him at the end of the night while Jonathan counted his tips.
So he did. In the mirror. As he walked down the street in costume. He even came in on his next night off and sat at the bar, talking to customers as Sugar. Men and woman since, contrary to his initial expectations, the club's clientele wasn't exclusively gay men. On any given night, it was a good mix of both gay and straight. Gay men and women came, of course, but also a lot of straight women. Some straight couples came, but it was rare. Even more rarely did straight men come in. Usually, they were already drunk and either a) didn't look at any of the posters outside or b) came looking for trouble. That hadn't happened since Jonathan had started working, but Buzz and the others had warned him.
So, Jonathan practiced. He flirted. He smiled. And, gradually, it got easier. When he put on Sugar's clothes, Jonathan melted away a little bit more. Sugar was soft, gentle, wry, teasing. She called people, "sweetie" and "honey" and "dear." She didn't mind touching people and being touched.
It was kind of surreal, but in a strange way, Jonathan enjoyed it. It was… nice, taking a break from being himself.
Buzz put his hand on Jonathan's forearm, drawing him back to the present. "As soon as their food comes out, go take a break. Shana will watch your table."
"Thanks, Buzz." Jonathan slipped his foot back into his shoe and smiled.
"And I'll let the bartender know that those girls are cut off."
"Thank you," he said again, this time with real feeling. Jonathan picked up his tray and resumed his work. When he returned with the food, he managed to evade the grabby hands of the bride's friends. The fact that the show had, again, begun helped distract them.
"I'm going on break, so if you need anything, Shana will get it for you," Jonathan said to the cheering mass of women.
He got no acknowledgment, but he hadn't expected any. With a sigh, he headed back to the dressing room for his break.
The image in the mirror across from the sofa was much different from the one two weeks ago. His hair was still blond, but his wig was a darker, more honeyed blond than the mess he'd dyed his own hair. It actually complemented his skin tone, making it seem more delicate and pale than washed out. The foundation helped as well, of course, as did the blush that roughed his cheeks. His eyes were still green and almost as startling as they'd been when they'd been blue. Eye-shadow and liner made them sparkle and false eyelashes gave him a starry eyed look.
His lips were fuller than normal, drawn bigger with lip liner and ruby red lipstick. Dangling pearl earrings framed his face, a pearl choker encircled his neck, making it look long and swanlike. His outfit tonight was a deep turquoise, sleeveless Grecian-style dress that gathered into an empire-style waist with a darker blue band embroidered with white starbursts. The same starburst decorated the neckline, and the bottom of the dress was a light, gauzy material that flowed as he walked. His stockings were nude and held up by an unseen garter belt that (God helped him) matched the dress, and his shoes were the same blue with small crystals glued onto the toes.
He wasn't sure how it made him feel, other than like a different person. The person he didn't so much mind, since he did need a break from being Jonathan, at least for awhile, but the clothes themselves…
Cherry had talked his ear off about the myriad of reasons people dressed in drag. How for some it's arousing, some it's a way to express themselves, to break free of boundaries. For some, it was stress relief and some had no reason, they just did.
Jonathan needed a job. This was a way to get money and not have to move again.
But the act of transforming into Sugar did something to him, he knew that. He just couldn't articulate what.
Raven came in just then. Grabbed him by the foot. "Let's go out for air," she said, nodding at the backdoor.
Jonathan groaned. "Can't I just stay?"
"Costume change is coming up. It's up to you." She grabbed her purse from its locker and slung it over her shoulder. "Come on, Sugar."
The door opened again, signaling the oncoming tidal wave of frantically changing drag queens. Jonathan was up and out the back before the first one came.
"Good girl," Raven laughed. She closed the door and sat on the step. "You still don't smoke, right?"
Jonathan rolled his eyes and sat next to her. Raven had asked him the same question every night. She was lucky that Jonathan didn't gas her.
Raven lit his cigarette and lifted it to his mouth. "I think Alex is cheating on me." He dropped his stage voice. Reached up and eased his wig off, setting it on his lap. Underneath, his hair was nothing but stubble, shaved close. It looked strange against his make-up.
"Oh?" Jonathan normally didn't care about his coworkers personal lives, but he found himself receptive to the drama of Dreamgirls. Even petty things like this.
"Things have been different lately. I don't know. He's just… distant. We don't talk. We don't fuck. He says he's just tired from work, but it just…" He sighed. Taped some ash from the end of his cigarette. "You got anyone?"
"No."
"Cherry said you were all banged up when she found you. Did you have a boyfriend who beat you or something?"
"No." Even in a casual conversation like this, Jonathan found it difficult to drop his softer voice. When he was in the dress, he was Sugar and couldn't switch like Raven did.
Raven cut his eyes towards Jonathan. "Are you gay?"
He had no answer for that. He'd never been in a relationship before, preferring work and study over everything else. Once, in college, he'd been dragged to a party by his roommate. He'd spent most of it, sitting on the couch, watching everyone get drunk. Around midnight, a girl had sat next to him and, with almost no warning, started kissing and rubbing on him.
It'd been… all right.
As for sexual attraction, he supposed he'd felt it before. There had been people he hadn't been able to keep his eyes off, people who'd made him feel hot and aroused. He had wet dreams, and had to masturbate on occasion. He just never really thought about it beyond momentary feelings.
"I don't know," he finally said. He looked away.
"Are you bi?"
"I don't know."
There was silence. Then, "Well, if you ever want to find out, you know my number. I'd be happy to do some experimenting with you, Sugar."
Jonathan suppressed an embarrassed smile. "You have a boyfriend."
"Tonight. That might change."
"Oh." He tapped his nail on his teeth. "Have you tried confronting Alex? Asking him?"
"Oh, yeah. Just walk up and say, 'Are you cheating on me?' Yeah, right."
"Maybe you could start with something less inflammatory. Make a date with him, something simple, and then tell him your concerns. Not about the cheating, but… say you feel like you've been growing apart. Tell him how you feel, but don't be accusatory about it."
He sighed. "What if I'm right? I don't know if I could handle it."
"What if you're wrong? What if he's just tired or stressed? What if he needs his boyfriend and doesn't know it? You say you love him. Are you willing to throw everything away on a suspicion?"
Raven sighed. Flicked his cigarette, then brought it to his mouth. He didn't say anything, but Jonathan could tell that his point had been made. He wasn't entirely sure why he'd given the advice, why he'd gotten involved, but it'd felt right. It felt like something Sugar would do.
"Okay. I think our break is over." Raven put his wig back on then stood. "Ah, dammit!"
"What?"
"The door's locked. Buzz said he was going to get this fixed." She tugged it again, then pounded on it.
Jonathan rose, smoothing down his skirt. "You don't have a key?"
"No. Left it inside. Fuck! I think they went back on." Raven turned and leaned against the door. "Okay, so we gotta trek around the front. I should have propped the door open."
"It's not that big a deal," Jonathan said. He moved up the steps and reached up to adjust Raven's wig.
"It's nearly a half-mile to the end of the alley. You got your phone?"
He didn't even have a phone, but he didn't inform Raven of that fact. Just shook his head.
Raven sighed. "Maybe this time, Buzz will follow through and fix the door. Come on."
"Can't we cut through another club?" Jonathan asked as he trailed behind Raven.
She shook her head. "Well, we can, I guess. But it's a hassle. They're not, like, homophobic or anything, but sometimes they give us trouble. Make it harder for us to get back to work. It's better just to walk around." Raven slipped his arm through Jonathan's. "So. Are you a virgin, Sugar?"
His face went up in flames. "What?"
"Well, you don't know if you're gay or bi. Have you ever had sex? Girl or boy."
"I'm not going to answer that question."
"Oh, come on. I won't tell."
"Yes, you will…" Jonathan broke off in a startled shout as he was yanked away from Raven.
An arm fell over his neck like a heavy iron bar. The other was pressed against his face, pressing hair into his eyes.
"Give me your purse, and I won't hurt her," the man holding Jonathan said.
Jonathan tugged at the arm, trying to pull it away, to breathe. His heart pounded wildly and he could feel the anger building in him.
"Okay, man," Raven said, voice shaking. "Just let her go. I'll give you my purse. Just…"
"Hand it over!" he shouted.
The shout echoed in Jonathan's ear. Filled his head until it was overcome with a rush of rage.
He growled, a low, animalistic sound without words. His nails dug into the man's arms and, in a swift movement, Jonathan lifted his foot and slammed it back down in his assailant's instep.
"Fuck!" the man howled. His grip loosened enough for Jonathan to elbow him in the stomach.
The arm let go. Jonathan whirled and brought his foot into the man's groin. As he did, he reached under his skirt. Yanked the canister of fear toxin strapped to his thigh in a gun holster.
"You fucking bitch!"
The side of the gun hit Jonathan in the face. Knocked his wig askew and him off balance. He stumbled. Dropped the canister.
"I'm going to fucking kill you!" He jumped on Jonathan, pushing him against the wall. Hit him again with the butt of his gun.
Jonathan spit in his face. Struggled against him, clawing and scratching and kicking.
Raven threw himself on the attacker. Pulled him away from Jonathan.
Jonathan threw himself onto the ground, scrambling amongst trash for his fear toxin. He could hear them scuffling behind him, hear Raven loosing.
His fingers closed around the canister. He turned.
The attacker was looming over him.
In one swift movement, Jonathan covered his mouth to avoid exposure to the toxin and pressed the button on the canister. The toxic cloud hit the man in the face and a moment later, he was on the ground, screaming.
Jonathan leapt to his feet. Raven was slumped against the wall of the alley, face bruised and bloody.
"Come on," Jonathan said, grabbing Raven's hand. "We need to go." He took one last look at his fallen assailant who was still writhing and screaming on the ground and then ran.
Part 3
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no subject
Date: 2010-04-07 09:27 pm (UTC)Can't wait for the next chapter.
no subject
Date: 2010-04-08 08:24 pm (UTC)This fic is awesome I can't wait for the next part. Poor Jonathan can't catch a break no matter what he is doing.
Excited for the next chapter! Keep up the great work!
no subject
Date: 2010-04-09 10:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-09-05 07:55 pm (UTC)