The room was a game enthusiast's paradise, its walls painted a deep, hunter green and adorned with vintage sporting memorabilia. Two pristine pool tables, their felt a vibrant green, occupied the center of the space, their polished surfaces reflecting the warm glow of the chandeliers hanging overhead. A dartboard, its target worn but still inviting, hung on one wall, while a full-sized shuffleboard table, its polished wood gleaming in the dim light, stretched along another. Two grand fireplaces, one at each end of the room, filled with wood, awaiting the night's activities, creating an atmosphere of cozy intimacy despite the room's spaciousness. Comfortable looking leather armchairs and a well-stocked bar completed the scene, offering a perfect setting for a night of friendly competition and camaraderie.
Kev, unable to resist the temptation, grabbed a cue and began practicing his shots on one of the pool tables. He was a bit rusty, his aim a little off and his technique a bit sloppy, but the familiar feel of the cue in his hand and the satisfying click of the balls colliding brought a smile to his face. He spent a good hour honing his skills, his competitive spirit slowly reawakening.
He then moved on to the dartboard, his throws erratic at first but gradually improving with each attempt. He even tried his hand at shuffleboard, the smooth glide of the pucks across the polished wood a surprisingly satisfying sensation.
As the afternoon wore on, Kev glanced at his watch. It was already four o'clock. He realized it was time to wake Fang.
With a final, lingering look at the inviting game room, Kev headed back to his apartment, it was time.
Back in his apartment Kev pushed open his bedroom door, his voice soft but insistent. "Fang, wake up."
Fang's eyes snapped open, his body jolting upright with a startled gasp. "Shit!" he exclaimed, his voice a panicked growl. "What time is it? I'm going to miss closing!"
Kev chuckled, a reassuring hand resting on Fang's arm. "Relax, big guy," he said, his voice soothing. "The club closed down just fine. It's time to wake up and get ready for opening. It's four in the afternoon. You've got plenty of time to shower and change."
Fang groaned, sinking back into the pillows. "My head hurts," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "It's four? I usually wake up at five."
Kev chuckled softly, handing him a glass of water from the nightstand. "You also usually go to bed at eleven in the morning," he reminded him gently. "You needed the sleep, Fang."
Fang took a long sip of water, his eyes still heavy-lidded. "I need to go check with the staff, see what I missed," he said, his voice laced with a hint of anxiety.
"Most of them won't be in for another hour at least," Kev assured him. "Just relax for a bit. You deserve it."
Nodding, Fang laid back down and said, "maybe just until my usual time…"
Kev, relieved to see Fang finally listening to his own exhausted body, quietly left the bedroom and returned to the living room. He picked up his book, settling back onto the couch with a contented sigh. The quiet of the apartment, broken only by the soft sounds of Fang's breathing, was a welcome respite from the usual hustle and bustle of the club.
Time slipped away unnoticed as Kev struggled to get into the book. He occasionally glanced at his watch, the silver hands ticking steadily towards the appointed hour. Finally, at five o'clock sharp, he reluctantly closed the book and headed back to the bedroom.
Fang was still asleep, his breathing deep and even. Kev gently shook his shoulder, his voice soft but insistent. "Fang," he whispered, "it's five, time to get ready."
Fang's eyes fluttered open, blinking against the sudden intrusion of light. He groaned, his head pounding with a dull ache. Kev, ever attentive, was already at his side, a glass of water in hand.
"Here," Kev offered softly, his voice laced with concern. "Drink this."
Fang gratefully accepted the glass, gulping down the cool water in one swift motion. He lay back against the pillows, his eyes closing briefly. "Thanks," he mumbled, his voice raspy with sleep.
"It's time for work, Fang," Kev reminded him gently. "I know you must be hungry too."
Fang pushed himself up onto his elbows, his movements sluggish. "Just... give me a moment," he pleaded, his voice thick with exhaustion.
Kev, understanding the wolfman's need for a few more minutes of rest, walked over to the window and pulled open the curtains. The afternoon sun bathed the room in a warm, golden light, casting long shadows across the floor. He selected a crisp suit, dark blue with a black shirt and pants, another of Marybell's masterpieces.
"I'm going to get dressed," he announced, turning back to Fang with a smile. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Fang's cheek. "Come grab me when you're ready."
Kev spent some time in the bathroom, showering and styling his hair. He wished he could shave, his stubble peaking though from his week working at the club, but he didn't have a razor. Just another thing he needed to ask about. He changed into a well-fitting suit and stepped out into his kitchen. .
He waited on the couch, flipping through the book in the diming light. A knock interrupted his thoughts. It was Horns.
"Morning, Kev!" Horns boomed, stepping into the apartment with a wide grin. "Brought you a little something." He placed a frothy milkshake on the kitchen counter, its scent a tantalizing mix of chocolate and vanilla.
Horns settled onto the couch, his large frame dwarfing the furniture. "When did Fang get up?" he asked, curiosity twinkling in his eyes.
Kev glanced at his watch. "About twenty minutes ago," he replied, taking a sip of the delicious shake.
"You've got to be shitting me," Horns exclaimed, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Did he panic when he woke up?"
"Only a little," Kev admitted.
Horns grinned. "That's good," he said, leaning back with a contented sigh. "So, you two got any big plans for tonight?"
Kev shrugged. "You know I'm fine with Fang calling the shots," he replied, a hint of anticipation in his voice.
"Yeah," Horns said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "So, how was the fight last night? Sounds like it was quite the show."
Kev's face lit up. "Berry was amazing," he exclaimed. "And there was this eagleman, Talon. He was incredible too… but he was a bit… enthusiastic."
"Talon, huh?" Horns mused, a thoughtful look on his face. "Must be pretty skilled to take down Ox… Birds don't got the same heft as big mammals." Horns emphasized his point by stretching his arms wide, making the couch he was on look small.
Kev nodded. "Fang even offered him a job at the club," he revealed, taking another sip of his milkshake.
Horns's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "He did what?!" he exclaimed, his voice booming through the apartment. "That wolf needs to include me in those kinds of decisions! I'm the Chief of Staff, for crying out loud!"
Horns huffed, settling back onto the couch with a resigned sigh. "I guess he hasn't had much of a chance to rope me in, seeing as he slept for nearly seventeen hours straight."
Kev chuckled. "I think he's probably a bit frazzled from sleeping so long," he observed. "Maybe just remind him when you see him tonight, jog his memory a bit."
"Will do," Horns replied with a grin. "I'll come find you when he's got some food in him. He's always a bit more agreeable after a good meal." He paused, a thoughtful look on his face. "And maybe a bit less... bitey."
Horns groaned as he stood, "well, I'll see you down there. Later." With a final wave, Horns headed out the door, leaving Kev to enjoy the rest of his milkshake in peace.
Ten minutes later, a knock echoed through the apartment. Kev opened the door to find Fang standing on the threshold, a sheepish expression on his face. Fang looked refreshed, wearing a bright orange suit. His fur was combed back and everything about the wolf looked suave and put together, kev would never guess that Fang had slept the entire day.
"Sorry about last night, Kev," Fang mumbled, his voice a low rumble. "I didn't expect... that to happen… You could have woken me up, you know."
Kev smiled reassuringly. "You needed the sleep, Fang," he said.
Fang nodded, a grateful look in his eyes. "Still," he insisted, "I should have…." He paused, his stomach growling audibly. ".... I should eat."
He extended a hand towards Kev. "Come on," he said, a playful glint returning to his eyes. "Let's go see what Reepia has whipped up for us tonight."
Kev took Fang's hand, his heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and anticipation. Together, they descended the stairs to the bar, the familiar sounds of the club's awakening filling the air.
As they entered the dimly lit barroom, the familiar sounds of clinking glasses and lively chatter washed over them. The club was slowly coming alive, its patrons trickling in, eager to embrace the night's allure. Furry figures moved to and fro, claiming tables and spots at the bar.
Fang led Kev to their usual spot at the VIP table, where Skippy the kangaroo, and Twitch the ferret, the ever-vigilant bouncers, greeted them with respectful nods. Fang waved Dale over, a silent request for their customary drinks.
It was not long before Dale approached with a wide grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement. He placed a Bloody Mary in front of Fang and a Cape Cod before Kev, his movements practiced and efficient. He shot Kev a friendly wink before turning to Fang.
"How was your night, boss?" Dale inquired, his voice a playful drawl. "Managed to catch up on some much-needed sleep, I see."
Fang grumbled, taking a long sip of his drink. "Must have just been feeling off," he muttered, avoiding Dale's knowing gaze.
Dale chuckled, his laughter a deep rumble that echoed through the barroom. "I hope you weren't too rough on your new assistant," he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
Fang growled playfully, his ears flattening against his head. "Get back to work, Dale," he retorted, a hint of embarrassment in his voice.
Dale's grin widened. "Well, I'm glad to see Kev's still here," he observed, "so you must not have bitten him too hard." He turned to Kev, his expression softening. "Just teasing the old dog, son," he assured him. "Hope you have a wonderful evening."
With a final laugh, Dale returned to his post behind the bar, leaving Kev and Fang to enjoy their drinks in the relative quiet of the VIP section.
Rebecca, her feline grace undisturbed by the growing crowd, took their food order with a practiced smile. The once quiet bar room was already nearly full, the energy in the room building with each new arrival. Some well dressed customers were already milling around the dance floor, eagerly awaiting for Asmodeus to begin performing.
"Ah, the madness of the weekend begins," Fang remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Kev, still adjusting to the club's unique rhythm, raised an eyebrow. "How much busier do weekends get in a place where people work seven days a week?" he inquired, genuinely curious.
"Just a bit," Fang admitted, taking a sip of his Bloody Mary. "There are many shops and businesses that have different hours on weekends, so some people have a bit more free time to indulge. Plus," he added with a sly grin, "many of our clients aren't traditional workers. They're business owners, entrepreneurs, or people with family wealth. They have the luxury of leisure, even on weekdays."
He paused, his gaze sweeping across the bustling barroom. "And in a city of five hundred million people, even the top one percent of the wealthy represents a very sizable number of potential customers."
"That's... a lot of people," Kev said, a hint of awe in his voice. He couldn't even begin to fathom the logistics of managing a city with such a massive population. No wonder there weren't enough jobs to go around.
Their food arrived, a steaming plate of steak and eggs for Fang and a colorful salad and steaming soup for Kev. Fang, true to form, devoured his meal in record time, barely pausing to savor the flavors. He finished with a satisfied sigh and gestured to Rebecca for a cup of coffee. His ability to keep any drips or crumbs from soiling his immaculate suits was still amazing.
Kev, enjoying the slower pace of his own meal, watched as the club continued to fill up. The dance floor, once spars, was now a swirling mass of bodies, their movements a hypnotic blend of grace and abandon. Asmodeus, perched on a platform above the stage, was playing his first song of the night, his fingers dancing across the piano keys with breathtaking speed and precision.
Drawn to the music, Kev leaned into Fang, his head resting on the wolfman's shoulder. Fang, his earlier tension seemingly forgotten, wrapped an arm around Kev, pulling him closer. Together, they watched the spectacle unfold, the energy of the club pulsating around them, a symphony of light, sound, and desire.