Chapter Text
Emerson Kent smiled at himself in the bathroom mirror. He scrubbed up rather nicely, he thought, re-arranging his hair for the umpteenth time that evening. Tight black jeans, dark t shirt, Converse All Stars that had been banished from the office since Joe took over. His eyes flicked to the man standing next to him.
“Bloody stupid thing,” Chandler muttered, tucking the uncooperative bit of white shirt collar inside his dark blue jumper. He turned his head to meet Kent's eyes. The bit of shirt collar popped out again. Chandler raised his eyes to the ceiling in despair. Kent laughed.
“How do I look?” Chandler asked, rather flustered.
“Oh, great Joe, yeah. You'll blend right in,” Kent smirked at his boyfriend from under lowered lashes.
“What? Riley said we needed to dress up. I'm dressed up,” Chandler indicated his ensemble with open palms, “see?”
“I think she meant to dress a bit more...casual,” Kent looked back at his reflection. Should he add a bit of eyeliner? Was eyeliner too much? He was essentially out with the guys from work, after all.
“This is casual,” Chandler protested, looking rather put out.
“Yes. Yes it is. For you, at any rate.”
Chandler frowned. “Having high standards is no bad thing.”
“Looking the way you do in a well tailored suit is no bad thing either.”
They smiled at each other in the mirror. Chandler blushed slightly.
“Maybe I should just put my work clothes back on,” he sighed.
“No, no, honestly. You look great, it's just...”
“What?”
“Well, this Hooded Crow place we're going to. It's, well, it's an alternative kind of place and you look a bit, sort of, mainstream,” Kent averted his eyes and fiddled with the leather cuff wrapped around his wrist.
“Mainstream?”
“Yeah. Sorry.”
Chandler turned away from the mirror and walked across the room. He groaned as he sat heavily on the edge of the bath. “God I'm old.”
“What? No! No you're not. I didn't mean it like that,” Kent turned his back on the mirror and stared at Chandler. “I was being a dick. I'm sorry.”
Chandler shrugged and looked at the floor, “You're right though, I am mainstream,” he smiled weakly, “and uptight. Christ, what the Hell do you see in me?”
Kent crouched in front of his boss, placing a comforting hand on his knee. “Everything,” he said quietly, “I see everything.”
Chandler lifted his head. The eye contact lasted until Kent leant forward and kissed him on the mouth. Slow, gentle, heartfelt. He smiled before pulling away.
Kent stood up. “Come on, we'd better make a move or the other's will be waiting for us.”
“Yes, let's get it over with,” Chandler sighed as he stood up.
Kent stoked his arm. “Are you OK?” His eyes were wide, unsure. Chandler was staring at him with a weird expression on his face.
Chandler smiled sadly, “Yes. Yes, Em. I'm alright. We should go.”
Kent's brow creased with worry, but he kept quiet.
They drove to the club in Chandler's car. Kent messed with his leather cuff absent mindedly as he stared out of the window.
Chandler glanced over at him. “Colour of Bone?” He asked, reading Kent's t shirt, “Should I have heard of them?”
Kent laughed. “No. No, they're just a local band. My mate's the lead singer. I told him where I was going tonight and he asked me to do a bit of free promotion. He's got an afro,” Kent grinned, “you'd like him.”
Chandler widened his eyes slightly, highly doubting that that was true.
Kent just shook his head and chuckled to himself.
They were quiet for a few moments, before Chandler spoke again, almost to himself. “I've never met any of your friends.”
“We've not been together that long,” Kent shrugged, “anyway, you've met my flatmates. They're my friends.”
“Yes, and they think this whole situation is creepy and 'messed up.'”
The words sounded wrong in Joe's pristine RP accent. Kent shuffled in his seat so that he could face him properly. “OK. What's wrong.”
“Nothing, Emerson. Nothing is wrong. I'm just not looking forward to a night in a nasty, greasy nightclub where everything's sticky and unwashed and everyone's” he took a deep breath to calm himself, “I'm just not looking forward to it.”
Kent reached out and stroked Joe's thigh, not knowing what to say.
As predicted, Mansell and Riley were already queueing up outside the grubby looking brick building by the time they arrived. Chandler had insisted on parking the car a few streets away, to stop any 'unsavoury patrons' of The Hooded Crow doing anything to it. He'd even turned back and looked at it nervously every few paces until it was out of sight. Kent was fighting the urge to hug him, or hold his hand, or...anything that involved physical contact really. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and slumped his shoulders slightly.
“Wow, look at you,” Riley wolf whistled as he approached.
Kent blushed and lowered his head.
“And you too, Sir. You look...snug.”
Chandler grimaced slightly. “Thankyou,” his gaze flicked between the wall, the rest of the queue and the damp concrete underfoot.
Kent gave Riley a one armed hug and looked her up and down, “You went all out,” he grinned, “nice.”
Riley twirled on the spot, “Thanks. My youngest picked the dress, on account of it being black and lace-y, apparently.”
“She's got good taste.”
“Hmmm,” Riley smiled at him.
“Christ, do I 'ave to listen to this for much longer?” Mansell rested his head against the wall.
Kent noticed Chandler flinch slightly as Mansell's head made contact with the grimy bricks.
Mina chose that moment to turn up fully decked out in her best 'bad girl' attire, complete with long black wig and heavy makeup. She made a beeline for Joe, who now looked even more uncomfortable and awkward than he had done thirty seconds ago. Kent scowled. He heard Mina mention something to Joe about 'working vice' and 'snapping a man's wrist.'
“Well, she's certainly made an effort,” Riley whispered.
“She can't actually think getting all tarted up is gonna make him notice her,” Kent sulked. He kicked at the wall with the toe of his shoe.
“Yeah, getting all dressed up just to get the attention of some bloke,” Riley looked Kent up and down and raised an eyebrow, “how pathetic.”
Kent held her gaze and scowled some more. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Really? Strange that.”
“Shall we go in now?” Kent asked, slightly louder, and with forced enthusiasm. He could feel Riley's smirk on the back of his neck.
The club was a complete dive. Kent wasn't stuck up. He'd been to some dodgy places in his time, but this was just, worse, somehow. The music was far too loud and the sound system was fucked, so he couldn't make out lyrics or even the changes between songs properly. The thing with Joe was still gnawing at the back of his mind and he didn't know what to do about it. The drinks were cheap and tasted cheap; chemically and thick. He forced himself to swallow the last of the vodka and coke he'd been nursing for the past half hour, leaned back against the bar, and scanned the room.
Mansell joined him a few minutes later, shouting his drink order to the bartender. “It's alright, this,” he shouted over the din.
“Hmmm,” Kent wasn't really listening. His eyes were fixed on Joe and the two young women he was talking to.
“He looks a right knob,” Mansell laughed, seeing where Kent was looking. “Sticks out like a sore thumb, that one.”
Kent ignored him. The two girls had walked away from Chandler while he was mid sentence, rolling their eyes and laughing.
Chandler sighed heavily and walked towards the bar, sliding in between Kent and a large man in a leather jacket. “Ignorant,” he shouted in Kent's ear, “so ignorant. Is there any need, really?”
Kent shook his head and shrugged.
“I need a drink,” Chandler announced, “my mouth tastes like the air in this place.” It took him ten minutes to get the bartender's attention, and then he got scoffed at for ordering orange juice. In an act of sheer desperation, he asked for a double shot of vodka as well.
“That's more like it, mate!” The bartender shouted at him, slamming the drink down on the already sticky wood and splashing Kent slightly.
Chandler winced as he took a sip. “Dear God, that's ghastly,” he put it back on the bar. “Is this meant to be entertainment? This?” He indicated the mass of leather and PVC, “I fail to see the appeal.”
“It is kinda shitty,” Kent agreed, “but we're here to work. This was your idea, after all.”
“Yes, yes, I know,” Chandler frowned. “I come up with some seriously stupid ideas. Stop me, next time,”
“Yes, Sir.”
The smiled warmly at each other. Kent got that happy, floating feeling inside, and everything felt alright again for a bit.
Mansell coughed. “I'm gonna go and try to talk to people,” he said awkwardly.
“Hey, wait! You didn't finish your drink,” Kent called after him.
“You 'ave it!” Mansell shouted back, already away from the bar and walking quickly in the opposite direction.
Kent turned to Chandler and giggled. “I think we made him uncomfortable.”
Chandler looked confused. “Why?”
“Because we were openly flirting with each other in front of him,” Kent shouted.
The man in the leather jacket turned around slowly, looked them both up and down, smiled, and turned back again.
Chandler didn't notice. “Were we?”
“We kinda were.”
“Oh.”
Kent scanned the crowded room again. He could feel Chandler's eyes on him. He looked at his boss in confusion, his head cocked to one side. He shook his head a little, mouthed “What?”
Chandler didn't react, just carried on looking at him, a look Kent had never seen away from the safety and privacy of their own homes. Kent swallowed, feeling himself start to warm up despite the cold, stale air in the club. He felt Joe's hand close around his wrist, squeeze once, and pull away. “Follow me,” was murmured hotly in his ear. Kent was powerless.
As he followed Joe's retreating form towards the back of the club, Kent wondered vaguely whether the bartender had put more than vodka in Joe's orange juice. He also wondered whether the other members of the team had seen them disappear together, and what the repercussions were going to be if they had.
Chandler eventually stopped underneath a set of black metal stairs. It was significantly quieter back here than it was near the bar. Nobody seemed to be using the stairs or standing anywhere near them.
Kent found himself pressed up against the wall with a very aroused and insistent Chandler all over him. The kisses they shared were rough, their teeth knocking together several times. Chandler bit Kent's lip and the younger man moaned into his mouth. Chandler pulled off, trailing kisses towards Kent's neck, scraping his tongue against the flushed, pale skin.
“Joe?” Kent panted, “Joe, what's going on?”
“Is this 'alternative' enough for you?” Chandler growled against his neck.
“Wh..what?”
Chandler bit his neck and sucked slightly in reply.
Kent gasped as the DI squeezed him through his jeans.
“Is this what you like, hmm?” Joe squeezed him harder, biting him just below his ear, “Is this what you're used to?”
“No! What? Joe, no. No. I...” Kent was fighting a losing battle with his arousal. His head knocked against the wall and he moaned.
Chandler unbuttoned Kent's jeans and dragged the zip down harshly, pushing his hand inside the tight denim so that he could rub and squeeze Kent through his underwear.
Kent was so close he was practically sobbing.
“I'm not so 'mainstream' now, am I?” Chandler whispered.
Kent cried out and came, soaking his underwear. Joe pulled his hand away before Kent was completely done and wiped it roughly on his own trousers.
Kent pulled his trousers up and fastened them again, feeling uncomfortable and sticky and confused. Chandler was breathing heavily and refusing to look at him.
“What was that for?” Kent asked in a small voice. He could feel an odd stinging sensation in his eyes and his throat ached. The floaty feeling had well and truly fucked off.
Chandler looked thoroughly miserable. “I'm, I'm sorry, Emerson. It's this place. I just.”
“No. No, it's about what I said before, isn't it?” Kent blinked rapidly, swallowed thickly. “Do you actually, seriously think that you're too old for me? That you've got something to prove?”
Chandler looked at him, but didn't speak.
There was an almighty crash and the sound of raised voices.
Chandler sprinted back towards the bar, leaving Kent against the wall.