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It wasn’t often that Balthazar’s was quiet and peaceful, but on a Thursday afternoon before the evening rush, the business somehow managed it. The stage was empty, and most of the employees not currently waiting tables for the small handful of customers were resting before their evening performances.
One of the evening bouncers was taking his break at the bar-- or more accurately flirting with the bartender-- and the chef popped out from the kitchen every so often to check on the patrons and to nick a few bottles of booze for what he called “an experiment.”
It was a rather calming atmosphere for a strip club. At least, until Nikki Sutherland walked in.
It wasn’t so much that she burst into the building with fanfare and dudgeon, but she did collapse at the bar with as theatrical a groan as her five foot frame could manage.
“Marc, get me the largest, strongest, most fucking potent drink you’ve got. I need to die.”
“Uh oh… Did somebody upset my favorite grease monkey?” the bartender asked as he pulled out a tall glass and filled with a sweetly colorful non-alcoholic mix and cranberry juice. “Am I gonna have to have words?”
Nikki gave Marc the most unimpressed glare as she took the drink, but she still downed it. “Worse,” she said with a mournful shake of her head. “I’ve met an actual, physical, literal goddess. Which is why I need sulking booze and not fruit juice.” She turned to his companion. “Keir, help me out.”
Keir raised an eyebrow and reached under the bar shelf for a specific cup kept for this very sort of occasion. A sippy cup labeled “NIKKI” is large, sparkly letters. He filled it with cider and slid it towards her.
“Fuck you,” Nikki grumbled.
“That’s Marc’s job, thanks.”
“Gross.”
For his part, Marc preened and rubbed Keir’s lower back possessively. “Love bug, is it?” he asked. “Did you talk to her or just pine from afar?”
Nikki glared ineffectively at Marc before groaning again and thumping her head on the bar. “She’s a dancer at du Fontaine’s and just… Ugh, she’s the most glittery amazon to have ever walked the earth! Marc, she does that shimmy thing you do on stage except it’s worse ‘cause she’s got a better ass and her biceps are as thick as my head and she could probably crush me with her thighs and I’d totally be okay with that? And I just want her to sit on my face and then maybe we could cuddle and hold hands and go to the zoo or the movies and just…. Of course I didn’t talk to her! The worst part is I’m pretty sure she’s got a boyfriend!”
Marc set down the glass he was cleaning with a somber look in his eyes. He put a hand to Nikki’s head and looked into her eye. “You went to du Fontaine’s?” he asked. “You went to du fucking Fontaine’s and fell in love with one of their dancers? Careful, Keir, she might be hexed.”
Keir bopped his boyfriend on the back of the head with an eyeroll.
“They have that fancy cafe and it was date night,” Nikki said unapologetically. “Mrs. Mincer deserves fancy. And love or no, it doesn’t matter. She was hanging onto the culmination of all gothic romantic ideals. Black silk and lace and those pretentious poet shirts and just… I’m pretty sure he’s vampire? I literally cannot compete with that!”
“What can’t we compete with?” came a voice from the kitchen door. Nikki lifted her head to see Qin poking his head out to presumably return whatever alcohol he’d stolen for his culinary experiments.
“Nikki’s in love with a dancer who is apparently dating a vampire,” Keir said with a shrug.
“A dancer from du Fontaine’s,” Marc hissed. “That’s just… Wait. You said she was a buff amazon? Tall? Like… How tall? And where would you put the goth on the twink-twunk-hunk scale?”
Nikki sighed and drained her cider. “First off? Everyone is fucking tall. But yeah, she’s definitely over six feet without the heels. And I’d put the goth on the closer end of twunk rather than twink? Why?”
Marc tapped the bar thoughtfully. “They sound familiar. At least, there’s a pair that comes in here sometimes that matches that descriptions. Didn’t know they were from du Fontaine’s, though…. Assuming it’s them and not some other glamazon-goth twiunk combo.”
“Shit!” Nikki looked around wildly for a moment. Keir valiantly witheld his amusement. Qin and Marcel did not. “Are they here now???”
“Nah. They only come in about once a week. Usually weeknights, though, and I haven’t seen ‘em in a while.” Marc shrugged as he sliced another in a growing pile of lemon wedges. “Maybe this will be your lucky night?”
Nikki bit her lip and looked towards the door. “I’m torn between hoping that it is and hoping that it’s-- oh. Fuck.”
The door opened with a rush of air, admitting what could honestly be described as an earthly goddess. Her frame filled the doorway, hair shining platinum in the light. Long legs strode forward in confidence, and her dress and fur coat swirled about her in a dance practically designed to highlight her muscled figure. She was tall, even moreso in heels that made gravity appear to be little more than a suggestion. She stopped and looked around the softly lit club, and the few patrons in attendance all looked up to stare at her radiant visage.
And then a man who could charitably be considered a vampire stalked through the door, not quite slamming it behind him. His baleful glare swept through the room, and suddenly everyone else found somewhere else to look.
“Speak of the devil...” Marc marveled with a low whistle. Nikki whimpered and did her best to hide behind her sparkling sippy cup.
“I can’t do this!” she hissed in desperation. “Please, Keir. I need vodka for this imminent heartbreak.”
“No.”
She turned to Qin, hoping he’d be more sympathetic than his brother, and found him studying the pair with a critical eye. “You should still give her your number,” he said. “I’m giving him mine. I want a piece of that.”
“Ew.” Keir made a face.
“What if you’re together?” Marc tilted his head in Nikki’s direction. “Baby girl said she was all over him.”
“Eh, maybe he’ll be flattered.” Qin shrugged. “But for now, I need a bottle of rum and to get back to work.” Marc sighed and handed him his bottle, and he vanished back into the kitchen.
Nikki groaned pathetically. “Marc help me out. Keir’ll say yes to you.”
“Sorry, Nikmeister,” Marc said with what sounded like genuine remorse. “As your bartender and friend, it would be irresponsible for me to give you anything stronger than a vodka gummy bear.” He turned to Keir. “Which we actually do have, by the way.”
“Fine, but if she gets drunk, I’m going to be out of clinging range.”
“I will absolutely take gummy bears. Hand ‘em ooh god they’re looking this way why are they looking this way?”
“It’s the bar,” Keir pointed out calmly. “They’re probably discussing drinks.”
“Look at them!” Nikki said with little regard for rationality and calm. “She’s a fucking glitzy goddess and she’s dating Lord Byron’s wet dream! How the fuck can I deal with that!? I knew I shouldn’t have gone for pink hair!”
Keir sighed and pat her shoulder. “You are really fucking awful at this.”
“Okay, number one,” Marc started, pulling out a couple of glasses and filling them with ice water, “your hair is bomb. Full stop. If she ain’t charmed by you, then she don’t deserve you. Number two, do you want me to run recon?”
“Please and thank you, Marc,” Nikki said with some relief before popping a hapless gummy bear in her mouth and taking a not-so-stealthy glance back at the table. “Oh he’s laying on her.”
“You lay on me all the time,” Keir said. “It means absolutely nothing.”
Marc waved off the waitress and told her to take a break as he grabbed a couple of menus. “Serving Fontaines in my own house,” he muttered. “I don’t like it.”
“Are we the Hatfields or McCoys?” Keir asked before kissing Marc’s cheek.
“We’re whichever were the good guys.” Marc grinned with a blush before marching over to the table.
Keir sighed and leaned next to Nikki with a lovelorn expression, and she rolled her eyes at the way he blatantly ogled Marc’s retreating ass.
“Gross,” she said as she built a gummy bear tower. “You’re a fucking sap, and I am honestly jealous.”
“You do realize you’re being very dramatic and you could just go talk to her,” Keir said softly.
Nikki glared up at him from her gummy empire. It was a very long way to glare up. “Okay, yeah. I’ll just walk up and say ‘Hey, I saw you dance in the almost nude yesterday and no offense to your scary ass boyfriend, but I’m in love with you and am already choosing curtains for our future home together. Tell me, would you prefer a spring or autumn scheme?’”
“You’re both springs, and he is definitely a twink now that I’ve gotten a closer look,” Marc chimed in, walking back around the bar and dropping off the order by the kitchen door. Nikki absolutely did not jump.
“What’d you find out?” she asked.
“That’s she’s charming as hell, and that if I were not in the happiest, most amazing relationship I’ve ever experienced in my life, I’d ask her out myself.”
Keir grinned and leaned over the bar to pass his boyfriend another quick kiss. Marc smiled back at him, and Nikki had to look away as something that felt far too close to envy spiked in her breast.
“Seriously,” Marc said, sobering, his hand still entwined with Keir’s, “It’s not worth wondering what would have happened. Trust me. You need to at least give it a shot.”
Nikki frowned thoughtfully and pulled one of her business cards from her pocket. Maybe… Maybe he was right. Maybe she should.
She took a deep breath. Alright. She would.
oOo
Bijou strode through the doors, immediately feeling more relaxed than she had on the journey over. Yes, Balthazar’s was technically the opposition, but she adored its casual, welcoming atmosphere. Delphine’s was a nice place to work at, and she was grateful for the home it gave her, but it was just so formal all the time!
A girl needed to relax, after all.
She hid a smile behind her hand as she turned to catch her companion glaring every other patron into submission. It was honestly adorable that Versailles thought she needed his protection.
They made their way through the club to their usual table. It wasn’t good for watching performances, but it was perfect for privacy. “You do realize that alienating a roomful of people is perhaps not the wisest of ideas?” she said as she slid into a chair.
“Perhaps I am not particularly concerned with wise when it comes to my dearest cousin,” Versailles replied cooly. “I do not think you’re aware of how dazzling you are.”
“Aw, you think I’m dazzling!”
“I have seen you bedecked in approximately five pounds of glitter. That stuff does not wash out very well.”
Bijou stuck her tongue out at him before picking up the menu. She could never decide on a usual order here; the chef seemed to add new items every month and each dish was spectacular.
“Oh well now,” Versailles said suddenly. “It appears your girl-crush from the cafe is here.”
“What!?”
“Don’t look now, but she’s at the bar and you are totally looking, aren’t you.”
Indeed, Bijou swiveled her head to see the most beautiful woman of all creation chatting with the bartender. She was perfect, absolutely a fairy in disguise with cheery pink hair and a dozen freckles painting her face! Bijou felt her heart flutter, and she couldn’t help but sigh. Such a wonderful creature… “Mon dieu, it is her...”
“Yes, Bijou. I have eyes that function.”
As though she sensed her gaze, the woman turned towards their table. Bijou whipped her head away and stared at the menu, blushing furiously. “She saw me!”
“That would be why I told you not to look,” Versailles said simply, picking up his own menu to peruse. “Why are you being so bashful? Just go talk to her.”
“Oh no, I simply cannot do that!”
“Why not? She’s right over there.”
“Ohh… Wait, you read lips, no? Tell me! Is she talking about me? What is she saying?” Bijou gave him her most desperate of expressions.
Versailles rolled his eyes but peeked at the bar from above his menu. “They’re just… Oh dear God.” He choked on a laugh and turned to bury his face in her shoulder.
“What? What is it?”
“She… She just described me as ‘Lord Byron’s wet dream,’” he croaked out, trying to restrain himself. “And she thinks we’re dating.”
Bijou turned away from her cousin with a quiet sound of despair. Further theatrics were stalled by the arrival of the bartender bearing ice water in each hand.
“Heya folks! How’s it going? Having any food tonight?”
Bijou pat Versailles’ shoulder as he regained control. “I will have the special,” she said, flashing the man a brilliant smile. If he was a friend of the woman of her dreams, it would not hurt to befriend him as well.
“Sure, it’s--”
“Ah no, do not tell me! I like surprises!”
“Fair enough,” the man grinned back. “Always a fan of those myself. And you, sir?”
“He will be awhile,” Bijou explained with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Could we have some drinks to start? I believe I would like… A gin and tonic, please?”
“Coffee with baileys,” Versailles mumbled, studying the menu as though it held the answers to the universe somewhere between the appetizers and the soups.
“Sounds good! Do you want to wait until he orders, or...”
“Oh lord no!” Bijou said with a laugh. “I would starve! But we will take the appetizer basket to start.”
“Right away, then!” The bartender nodded and walked away.
It did not take long for the appetizer to arrive, but it felt like forever as Bijou kept casting glances at the bar and her crush.
“You’re worse than a soap opera romance,” Versailles commented.
“Shush, you.”
“It’s not that hard to go get a phone number.”
“You do not understand!”
“Understand what? That you’re too chicken too--”
“Excuse me, but someone ordered the appetizer basket?”
They stopped mid-squabble as a stranger approached their table with a large bowl in his hands. From his uniform, he worked in the kitchen. Were Bijou into men, she would have been struck by his visage. If there was anyone who was born for the stage, this man was it. Dark gleaming skin, gentle smile… She glanced over at her cousin who was giving their server a much closer look.
“She did,” Versailles said in a near purr as he finished his once-over. She rolled her eyes. “I am… As of yet undecided.”
“Of course,” the man replied with a small smirk, setting the bowl down on the table along with their drinks. “It does not help that I change the menu every so often, does it?”
“You are the chef?” Bijou asked.
“I am. I enjoy stepping out of the kitchen to see how customers are faring.” He smiled again, and she got the distinct feeling that it was aimed at Versailles rather than her. “Shall I give you a moment to think over your options?”
“Yes, thank you,” Versailles said with a smirk of his own. “I believe this requires careful consideration.”
“Naturally. You do seem to be a man of good taste.” The chef bowed slightly. “I shall leave you to it, then.”
Versailles’ gaze stayed glued on the man as he walked away, pointedly ignoring Bijou’s own stare.
“I cannot tell if that was flirting or not,” she complained.
“It was,” he confirmed as he picked up one of the coasters the chef had set on his table. “And I have his number.”
“You do not!” she gasped. She snatched the coaster out of his hand, and sure enough it said “for the gentleman” followed by a string of digits.
Versailles leaned back into his chair with a satisfied expression. “Well, I have mine. What about you?” he challenged.
“You… You… Oh, fine!” She grabbed a napkin, scrawled her name and number on it, and stood, back straight as she marched towards the bar.
She arrived at her goal as her goal also stood and turned towards her, a scrap of paper in her hand. “Oh!” she said as Bijou neared, her face flushing prettily. “I, uh… I’m… Hi?”
“Hello,” Bijou said, sticking out her hand. The other woman shook it. “I am Bijou, and you are very cute. May I give you my number?”
The woman blinked for a long moment before a dazed smile made its way across her face. “Yeah! I mean, yes! I mean… I was actually coming over to give you mine? I’m Nikki.”
“Brilliant! Here...” They traded their respective papers. Nikki’s was a business card, as it turned out. “You are a mechanic? How wonderful!”
“And you’re a dancer. I saw you at du Fontaine’s.” Her blush deepened. “Not that I was stalking! Or generally being creepy! I was just there and you were there and… And… There is literally no way out of this that isn’t awkward, is there?” She ducked her head, hiding behind her hand.
“I can forgive awkwardness,” Bijou said gently, “if you go on a date with me.”
Nikki snorted with a little laugh that made Bijou’s heart do acrobatics in her chest. “You know, I think I can manage that.”