Despite his initial enthusiasm, Kev still found the history book to be a bit of a slog. The narrative was dense, filled with references to ancient kingdoms, mythical creatures, and complex political machinations that he couldn't quite grasp. It was like trying to piece together a puzzle without knowing what the final picture was supposed to look like. He longed for context, for a familiar framework to help him make sense of it all.
Perhaps, he thought, his coworkers could provide some insights. They'd lived in this world their entire lives, their understanding of its history and culture ingrained in their very being. Maybe a casual conversation over a drink at the bar could shed some light on the mysteries that plagued him. But how would they react to him asking such basic questions? It's not like he would arouse suspicion by asking what year it is… what could he do, blame it on the christmas ghosts?
Kev caught himself thinking, is this real. He quickly shook his head and laughed, of course this couldn't be really real. Yes it was a very complex and strangely heartwarming coma dream but that's all it was… right? He frowned and picked the book back up, forcing himself to read the words on the page even without knowing what they meant. It was a total waste of time, but it did help to distract him from the dread that bubbled deep in his gut.
As the afternoon wore on, Kev's thoughts drifted back to Fang. He wondered what the wolfman was doing, if he was still asleep, or if he was already immersed in the chaos of preparing the club for another night of revelry. A pang of longing tugged at his heart. He missed Fang's presence, the warmth of his touch, the reassuring rumble of his voice. Maybe he was a bit rough around the edges but kev could care less, fang put his mind at ease, stopped that burning magma of existential dread that had been growing in him ever since arriving in this place.
Just as the clock struck six, a familiar knock echoed through the apartment. Kev opened the door to find Horns, looking considerably more refreshed than he had been in the morning
"Evening, Kev," Horns greeted him with a cheerful smile. "Ready for another night of excitement?"
"Here's that hair gel you asked for," Horns said, tossing a tube onto the counter as he entered Kev's apartment. He settled comfortably onto the couch, a familiar routine already forming between them. With a practiced motion, he rolled a joint, the pungent scent of the herb filling the air.
Kev smiled gratefully and disappeared into the bathroom. The steam from the hot shower fogged up the mirror as he washed away the day's anxieties and uncertainties. He emerged a few minutes later, his hair damp and his skin glowing. He styled his hair with the gel, attempting to replicate Valen's expert touch. The result, while not quite as polished, was still a marked improvement from his usual hairdo.
Returning to the living room, he found Horns had thoughtfully rolled a few additional joints, neatly arranged on the coffee table beside his new silver cigarette case.
"For your fancy new case," Horns explained with a wink, gesturing towards the gleaming silver container.
"Thanks, Horns," Kev said sincerely, carefully placing the joints in the case. "I really mean it. You've been so kind to me since I got here."
Horns chuckled, a deep rumble that vibrated through the couch cushions. "Well, someone's gotta look out for the new guy," he replied, taking a long drag from his joint. "Besides," he added with a mischievous grin, "the first time we met... I thought you'd get killed by Fang in that room."
He paused, a more serious expression crossing his face. "I'm glad you weren't," he said softly, his gaze meeting Kev's. "You're a good addition to the team, Kev. We need more people like you around here."
Horns, glancing at his watch, abruptly stood up. "Duty calls," he announced with a sigh. "I need to go do a roll call. The club will be opening soon."
He paused at the door, turning back to Kev with a reassuring smile. "Fang's getting ready too," he said. "He'll be over to get you soon."
Kev nodded, a sense of anticipation building within him. "We'll probably be at the VIP table if you want to come over and take a break later," he offered.
Horns grinned. "Thanks, Kev. I might just take you up on that." With a final wave, he left the apartment, the sound of his heavy footsteps fading down the hallway.
Kev, now alone once more, settled back onto the couch, a mix of excitement and nervousness swirling within him. He couldn't help but wonder what the night held in store, what new experiences and challenges awaited him in the heart of the club. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the unknown, and waited for Fang's arrival.
Barely ten minutes had passed when a firm knock echoed through Kev's apartment. He rose from the couch, a flutter in his chest, and opened the door.
Fang stood on the threshold, impeccably dressed as always, his gaze sweeping over Kev's form. A look of genuine admiration crossed his face. Kev, freshly showered and dressed in one of his new suits, looked remarkably polished and confident. The silver accents of his shirt and accessories shimmered subtly in the soft light, highlighting his delicate features and drawing attention to his bright blue eyes.
Fang couldn't help but marvel at Marybelle's skill. The tailor had truly outdone herself, creating an ensemble that perfectly complemented Kev's unique beauty. He was momentarily speechless, his thoughts momentarily scattered by the sight of Kev looking so utterly captivating. Was this really the same scared creature he first met just nights ago?
Kev, sensing Fang's distraction, stepped forward and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I hope you slept well," he said, his voice soft and reassuring.
The touch, light as it was, snapped Fang back to reality. A warmth spread through him, a reminder of their intimate connection. He cleared his throat, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "Yes, thank you," he replied, his voice a low rumble. "A bed really is much better than the couch." He paused, trying to recall what he'd come to say. "I, uh..."
"Breakfast?" Kev prompted, a playful smile tugging at his lips.
"Yes, breakfast," Fang echoed, the warmth in his eyes mirroring Kev's smile. He extended his arm, and Kev, without hesitation, looped his own through it. Together, they descended the stairs, their footsteps echoing in the still-quiet halls of the club.
They reached the bar just as the last rays of the setting began to fade from the windows, casting long shadows across the empty dance floor. Dale, already behind the bar polishing glasses, greeted them with a knowing grin.
"Evening, lovebirds," he drawled, his voice a husky whisper. "What can I get you?"
"Watch it Horse. Coffee, black," Fang ordered, his voice still carrying a hint of sleepiness.
"Cape Cod for me, please," Kev added, a smile playing on his lips.
Dale raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "Going out again tonight?" he inquired, his gaze flickering between Fang and Kev.
Fang shook his head. "Not tonight," he replied, his arm tightening around Kev's shoulders. "I'm going to show Kev some of the nightly entertainment. There's still a lot he needs to learn."
Dale chuckled, a low, winneying sound that echoed through the empty barroom. "Well, I'll pray that you don't crush the lad," he quipped, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Some of those acts can get a bit... wild."
Fang scowled playfully. "He'll be fine. Just get our drinks, Dale," he retorted, his voice a low growl.
Dale laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "Right away, boss," he said, turning to prepare their orders.
As they waited for their drinks they moved to the VIP table. Sitting next to the big wolf-man, Kev's curiosity got the better of him. The veil of mystery surrounding Fang intrigued him, and he longed to learn more about the man behind the imposing facade. If there was anyone in this world he could ask a question to, it was him.
"Fang," he began, his voice hesitant, "can I ask you something personal?"
Fang raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. "Of course, Kev," he replied, his tone softening. "What's on your mind?"
Kev took a deep breath, gathering his courage. "I'm curious about your family, about this mansion," he said, his gaze sweeping across the empty barroom. "It's such a beautiful building, filled with history. I'd love to hear more about it."
Fang's expression turned wistful, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "This building has belonged to my family for ages," he began, his voice a low rumble that echoed through the quiet space. "Generations of my ancestors have walked these halls, their laughter and their sorrows echoing through the walls. It's more than just a building to me, Kev. It's a legacy, a connection to my past."
He paused, his gaze drifting towards the grand staircase, his mind filled with memories of his childhood. "But times have changed," he continued, his voice taking on a more somber tone. "The city has grown, and with it, the pressures to modernize, to expand. This property is prime real estate, and the city council has been relentless in their attempts to acquire it."
He clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white. "But I won't let them have it," he declared, his voice filled with a quiet determination. "This club, this mansion, it's my way of fighting back. It's my way of making enough money to keep them at bay, to preserve my family's legacy. I'd like to see them try to close me down now that we're getting the mafia's legal team."
Kev nodded slowly, a newfound understanding dawning on him. "That's a good reason," he said softly, his gaze meeting Fang's. "A noble one."
He'd initially assumed Fang was simply a shrewd businessman, a visionary entrepreneur who had stumbled upon a brilliant concept for a club. But learning that his motivations ran deeper, that he was driven by a desire to preserve his family's history, added a layer of depth to the wolfman that Kev hadn't anticipated.
It made Fang seem more human, more relatable. It painted a picture of a man who, despite his intimidating exterior and his often ruthless business tactics, was deeply connected to his roots, fiercely protective of his heritage. It was a side of Fang that Kev found both admirable and endearing, a glimpse into the heart of the wolf beneath the tailored suit.
Dale, ever the efficient bartender, appeared with their drinks, a Cape Cod for Kev and a steaming cup of coffee for Fang. The rich aroma of the coffee mingled with the sweet scent of the cocktail, creating a heady blend that filled the air.
"So, let me guess what you want to eat. Steak and…," Dale began.
"Steak and eggs," Fang barked his order, completing Dale's sentence, his voice echoing through the quiet barroom.
Kev, still savoring the warmth of Fang's earlier confession, smiled shyly. "Just a cup of chowder and some bread for me, please," he requested.
Dale rolled his eyes at Fang and retreated to the kitchen. Fang's gaze lingered on Kev, a warmth in his amber eyes that sent a shiver down Kev's spine. He reached across the table, his large hand gently brushing against Kev's cheek.
"You look good tonight, Kev," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through Kev's body.
Kev's cheeks flushed, a shy smile playing on his lips. "You look good every night, Fang," he replied, his gaze meeting Fang's with a newfound confidence.
Fang's tail, usually still, gave a subtle wag, betraying his pleasure at the compliment. He cleared his throat, his expression turning slightly hesitant. "I was thinking about your offer last night," he began, his voice a bit strained.
Kev's heart skipped a beat. He knew exactly what Fang was referring to, the invitation to his room, the unspoken promise of intimacy.
"I... I really did want to take you up on it," Fang continued, his gaze dropping to the table. "But... I couldn't. The club..." He trailed off, his words hanging heavy in the air.
He looked up, his eyes meeting Kev's with a mixture of longing and regret. "I hope I didn't offend you," he said, his voice soft.
Kev reached across the table, his hand gently covering Fang's. "I like you, Fang," he said, his voice soft but firm. "And I'm glad we're not rushing into anything."
He paused, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. "To be honest, when I really think about it, I'm a bit scared," he confessed, his gaze dropping to their intertwined hands. "You're so... big and strong. I'd be very… vulnerable with you."
Fang's tail wagged gently under the table, a sign of his growing excitement. He appreciated Kev's honesty, his willingness to express his fears and concerns. It showed a level of trust that he hadn't expected so soon.
"I would never hurt you, Kev," he said, his voice a low rumble filled with sincerity. "I promise."
He squeezed Kev's hand reassuringly. "And besides," he added with a playful grin, "it's not like it would be against rules."
Kev chuckled, his heart lightening at Fang's playful tone. "True," he agreed. "But it's still a bit unconventional, don't you think?"
Fang shrugged, his grin widening. "Unconventional is my specialty," he declared, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Besides, who needs convention when you have a connection like ours?"
Their meals arrived promptly, a testament to the efficiency of Reepia's kitchen. Fang, true to form, attacked his steak with gusto, the savory aroma of grilled meat filling the air. Kev, on the other hand, savored his creamy chowder, the warmth spreading through him with each spoonful. The accompanying bread, crusty on the outside and soft within, tasted like it had just come out of the oven.