Chapter Text
Grian was bone tired. He had worked all day. Teaching history to high school kids was rewarding in some ways, but draining in so many others. It was a Friday night and he was putting off grading papers by getting dragged along to Lizzie’s bachelorette party. Cleo, the maid of honor, had planned a big party, but an attack from the villain Below Zero had injured some and scared away others. Feeling slightly responsible, as his vigilante persona CuteGuy had been involved in the botched capture, he agreed to go as a backup.
He expected a quiet affair, similar to how guys tend to be at a strip joint. He did not expect girls to be this loud, or excitable. They were screaming naughty things at the dancers as loud as possible waving bills to catch their attention with vigor.
“Come on Grian, this is supposed to be fun. Did you bring any ones?” Cleo was shouting into his ear, hoping to be heard over the crowd and music playing for the current dancer.
Grian pointed to his small pile in his jacket pocket. “I just haven't seen anything that's caught my fancy.”
Cleo laughed at his deadpanned delivery. “Well, the night is young. I think the next act will really catch your eye.” She leaned over to Lizzie, probably checking to see if she was doing alright.
Lizzie was three drinks in and hollering while swinging a dollar around at the half dressed, blaze hybrid cowboy on stage. Grian was still nursing his vodka tonic and hoped to fade into the background.
The abrupt change in music signaled the end of the cowboy’s performance and he claimed his hat from a star struck blond avian with a wink before exiting the stage. The lights blinked off and then a spotlight hit the curtain.
He was hoping that he could excuse himself after the next act and maybe he'd still be able to make it on a late patrol tonight. Within seconds this idea was forgotten as a new man slipped on the stage.
The dancer was arguably dressed as a police officer. But no lawman would be caught in shorts that short. They barely covered his butt, and were tight enough to show off his generous package. He had on a hat covering short brown hair, and aviator glasses. His short sleeved light blue shirt was tight acrossed a muscular chest which was slightly glistening with oil, and a police badge precariously stuck on the left side. Many scars littered his arms, legs, chest and face, but they added to his charm. He smirked as every eye turned his way to watch.
Grian had never thought he could be attracted to another man. It had never happened before. Well, not to this degree. He had appreciated the view of a good looking man here or there but it had never taken his breath away.
The crowd, which had gone quiet at the exit of the previous dancer, erupted as the new dancer shimmied backwards toward them, perky ass capturing their attention. He turned to look over his shoulder, tossing his glasses with a smoldering look. Grian felt his heart speed up as he saw piercing green eyes. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a lady legitimately swoon into the arms of her friends. He had to down his drink to wet his suddenly dry lips.
The dancer made his way down the stage stopping in front of most groups, with the swing of his hips and hands behind his head provocatively, to give each a small personalized show. The ladies in front were working hard to stuff bills in the waistband of the hardest working shorts in the club, showing their appreciation.
When he reached Lizzie, he saw the customized bride-to-be T-shirt, and took a moment to place his hat on her head with a wink. Grian ignored the jealousy that reared its ugly head. This man owed him nothing and was just doing his job entertaining people. Grian did make sure to stuff a couple of his own dollars in his shirt pocket while he was leaned over. That's when they locked eyes and Grian felt his face flush at the cheeky look he got.
Cleo smacked his shoulder as the dancer moved away. “I told you you’d like this one. He's real popular. I had to make reservations to get front row seats. Sometimes he doesn't even perform.”
Grian ignored Cleo as she went on about how lucky they were as he watched the other man finish his circuit along the stage. The dancer grabbed most of the money from his shorts and passed it to someone behind the plush curtain. The tight shirt was pulled open, completely exposing the slicked up muscles, pecks jumping in time with the beat. The crowd reached a fever pitch in anticipation as they all waited for something else. The brunette slid his hands down his chest and grabbed his hips, with a quick yank, the tear away short shorts were dropped. Some of the bills that remained floated to the floor.
A well filled orange g-string was revealed and the crowd exploded. Grian didn't know he had joined in until he heard Lizzie and Cleo laughing. Cleo laughed even harder at Grian’s stricken face.
“It's alright Grian. We understand. Scar can turn any head his way.” She shared a knowing look with Lizzie.
Grian wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. If the kids in his classes could see him now he would never be able to live it down.
He didn't let that stop him from turning back to watch, he now had a name to put to the face. He wondered if Scar was just a stage name, to go along with his plethora of scars on his skin. He couldn't turn away as Scar struttled and bounced up and down the stage. His playful dancing had the audience calling out his name.
As he came their way again, he didn't want to be embarrassed by ogling the man like all the ladies present. Instead he looked away from his crotch and he noticed how smooth the man’s skin was. He must wax to be so free of hair. Before Scar moved away he caught Grian’s eyes again and winked at him.
Suddenly he felt overheated, the red sweater no longer the safe choice he thought it had been. The tips of his ears burned.
The music started winding down and Scar made one last loop, collecting the bills still held up for him with a smile. Grian made sure he held a few more of his stack up, wanting that smile directed at him at least once. When Scar reached for his meager offering, he grabbed Grian’s hand for a moment. He took the bills and gave them a kiss with another wink sent his way.
Grian was worried he was going to pass out as blood rushed up and down at the same time. He completely zoned out until Scar had made his way behind the curtain.
Lizzie and Cleo were both looking at him expectantly as he returned to his body, smiling mischievously. “So, Grian. Are you having a good time?” Lizzie asked. “Scar has another set later.” she said teasingly.
Grian felt like he had blushed more in the last twenty minutes than he had in the last five years, and he worked with teenagers for god’s sake! “I’m going to the bathroom, and getting another drink. I’ll be back.” He did not flee, but made a strategic exit. They were laughing at his retreating back.
Closing the men’s room door cut the volume dramatically. Unfortunately, it allowed him to hear the voice inside his head much more clearly and he was having a full on gay panic.
Mumbo was going to laugh at him when he saw him next. Maybe make him join his unofficial HotGuy fan club. Ugh, as if. Knowing the guy really made liking him much more difficult. Well, not ‘knowing’ knowing, but ugh.
He was just distracting himself from the fact that he had his first full on man crush. He wanted to rub his face on that man’s chest and make raspberry noises. He wasn't ready to analyze this new sexual preference. Did he want to see Scar’s dick? Did that turn him on? Judging by the state of his own dick, yes was the answer to both of those questions.
Why couldn't he just like Mumbo? Mumbo was safe, and handsome and funny. It would be so much easier if Mumbo was his type. But Mumbo didn't make his heart beat faster or blood rush to his face with just a smile. Apparently he had a thing for muscular brunettes with winsome smiles, and large cocks. Holy shit.
A knock at the door startled him out of his descent into a gay panic attack. “Just a minute.” He called out. He adjusted his pants and quickly washed his hands. If he had been paying attention to his surroundings he wouldn't have run into the dude as he exited.
Unfortunately, for the both of them, he hit the taller guy in the chest. He looked up to apologize, right in the face of his fourth period trouble maker, Jimmy Solidarity. His very underaged student, that shouldn't be at 18+ male strip clubs. Five whole seconds passed, as they both obviously recognized each other.
“Jimmy?! What are you doing here?” Grian wanted to scream, but didn't want to draw attention to himself.
Jimmy, stupidly, didn't run. “What? I'm an adult. I'm allowed to be here.” He said defensively.
“Not until the middle of next month, mister. Until then you're still just seventeen.” He poked the kid in the chest, hoping to get his point across so that this upstart would retreat and let Grian continue his internal panicking.
“Well, what are you doing here Mr. G? I thought you were as straight as they come.” Jimmy was really unhelpfully perceptive at times.
“I’m here with Lizzie and Cleo. You know her and Joel are getting married. The bridal party got caught up in a supervillain attack yesterday and most of them couldn't make it.” Grian crossed his arms, peeved that he had to defend himself, to a child that was taller than him. “I have every right to be here.”
“Sure thing, but~...” Grian didn't like the look in Jimmy’s eyes. “That's not what it’ll sound like when I tell my buds about this on Monday.”
“You’d blackmail me?!” Jimmy held his hands to stave off another finger poking his chest.
“I’m eighteen by next month, like you said, and then I graduate two weeks later. It won't matter by then. We can just … act like we never saw each other.” Jimmy made a good point, and Grian hated it.
“Fine.” Grian finally gave in, and Jimmy smiled like he’d won some kind of battle.
“Thanks. Now if you’ll excuse me. I need to use the loo.” Jimmy motioned to the open door he was currently blocking.
“Fine.” He said again, firmly, and walked past Jimmy. He went straight to the bar and ordered two cosmopolitans. He downed the first one, and returned to his spot with the other.
A new dancer had taken the stage in his absence and Cleo and Lizzie were watching with conspicuous focus. “Oh, hey Grian. Welcome back.” Cleo said with feigned cheerfulness. “How's it going?”
“It's fine. Everything’s fine.” he didn't want to play their games right now. He wanted to go home and forget that this night had ever happened. He wanted to drown his sorrows in a bottle of vodka. He wanted to jerk off while thinking of a muscled chest and emerald green eyes.
He did none of those things. He sat and downed his third drink, then a fourth. He lost count as he waited for Scar to reappear for his second and final performance of the night. Lizzie and Cleo had the decency to leave off teasing him anymore while other performers came and went.
Cleo nudged him when the house lights went down again, the club’s signal that their star performer would be making an appearance. “Here comes loverboy.” Cleo pointed his face back to the curtain.
Grian sat up straighter as the curtain parted and Scar appeared. The brunette was wearing a new costume. He had a black vest with an orange and blue wing pattern on the front, a new set of aviator glasses, and a prop bow. He wore tight black booty shorts, hugging all the right curves.
Grian was transfixed as Scar did a routine on the pole he hadn't noticed set in the front center of the stage. The throng of people were crowding close calling out to him with dollar bills waving frantically.
Grian refused to be pushed around and waited to the side, in his seat. He watched the muscles flex and tighten as Scar worked the pole, wishing he was an inanimate object. Fuck, he had it bad.
Scar was upside down now, holding the pole with his legs as his arms pretended to shoot an invisible arrow.
Grian froze, and his face paled. He remembered that pose. Last week he had laughed at HotGuy when he said he’d still be able to shoot a creeper from 100 yards while in that exact same position. He had done it too, proving his skill with a bow beyond a reasonable degree.
Grian swallowed. Scar was standing now, working the crowd with his handsome smile. He absentmindedly grabbed the last of his cash and held it up for Scar to grab. He was not expecting Scar to pass him a piece of paper in return. He looked down, and in his hand he saw a small business card. It had his name Scar Goodtime and a phone number hand written on it, with a kiss mark on the back.
Oh shit. He had a crush on his vigilante partner, HotGuy. The same man that had been relentlessly flirting with him for two years. Well fuck.