Feliks was used to the stares and the whispers that followed him every time he rode the train up towards Midtown from his home in Brooklyn. It only seemed to help a little bit that even he didn't dare walk around his own neighborhood dressed up -- even with his hair tied back and blue jeans on, there was something about him that never quite passed if people weren't being a little bit willfully blind. Something in his slim shoulders, maybe, or in his long eyelashes, or just in the way he carried himself.
It didn't really bother him, not exactly, but it was still a relief every time he saw the dingy brick facade and glowing sign come into his line of sight, every time he felt the door close behind him. Whatever the risk might be of getting caught here, he could do what he wanted in this place. Here, more even than in Little Poland sometimes, he was with his people.
As soon as he was in the door, he snuck off to the bathroom to get changed and throw a little light makeup on. Half the people he knew in the daytime would be scandalized to see the miniskirts he'd grown fond of on a woman, let alone on him... Even here, they'd contributed in no small part to his accidental reputation as a cocktease, which he couldn't honestly be bothered to care about, because it wasn't his damn fault if men wanted to jump to conclusions over his hemlines (or, for that matter, over the way he danced or the jokes he told or how much he drank.)
With his daytime clothes stuffed into his oversized purse, he made his way out into the smoky bar, hopping up onto the first empty stool he could find. Even with his high heels, his feet didn't quite reach the ground.
"Can I like, just get my usual?" he asked the bartender, his Polish accent thick and rich despite the lazy lightness of his voice. The bartender nodded, brought out a clean glass, and brought a bottle of vodka out from under the counter, pouring a generous measure in. (What, he'd been known to ask, with self-mocking humor that came straight from his motherland, do I look to you like the kind of sissy who needs it on the rocks?) It was only once he had his glass in hand than he bothered to look around and see who he'd ended up sitting next to, raising his glass to them with a cheerful smile.
"Na zdrowie!" He took a slow sip, feeling it warm him up from the inside out, then leaned back in his chair with the glass cradled between his slim fingers. "So, you're having a good night?"
With a smirk, Zancrow leaned back and offered Feliks a slightly deranged smile. He was disheveled as always; his white tee-shirt was wrinkled and little ripped, his jeans, also wrinkled, had dirt stains at the knees, and his always wild hair was as wild as ever. There were bruises on his biceps from where he had been grabbed a little too roughly in a fight earlier that evening, and a black eye that was healing from one earlier that week.
“Doing pretty well so far,” he said taking a pull on his beer. “Got into a fight with some yokel who thought that I was a hippie.” He gave a tug on his hair. “Maybe I should cut this mess. I’m tired of being mistaken for one of those tree fuckers.”
He pulled out a carton of cigarettes, stuck one in his mouth and lit up. “Want a smoke?” he offered, holding the carton out to Feliks. There were only three left, all turned upside down, showing the tobacco leaves.
Feliks had heard too many wild stories about Zancrow from the other regulars even before he met him personally to be too surprised by anything about his appearance. He look in today's set of bruises with nothing more than faint curiosity, as he plucked a cigarette from the carton and set it between his lips. He held his hand out for the lighter, setting his glass down on the bar for the moment.
"Like, what's the point changing your style for somebody else? Anyway, I kind of don't think you actually mind the excuse for a little fight."
Chuckling, Zancrow leaned forward, elbows on the counter, and took a long drag on his cigarette. He let out a small sigh as he got that first rush of nicotine and looked over Feliks. "How'd you get to know me so well?"
He took another drag, before taking the cigarette out his mouth and tapping it against a nearby ashtray. "What about yourself? Good night so far?"
"You have a reputation, dude," he laughed, leaning forward on the counter as well. "What do they say, again? Like, it precedes you."
He took a little drag, tried to keep his nose from wrinkling -- he'd never had the taste for cigarettes that a lot of people did, didn't care much for the smell, but they did calm the anxiety he often felt around strangers, and he sort of liked the physical sensation of them.
"Anyway, I just got here. So it's probably moving uphill!"
"What, and you don't?" Zancrow asked. He knew of Feliks' reputation as a cocktease. Unlike Feliks, Zancrow had earned his violent rep, whereas Feliks' came from men who couldn't take 'no' for an answer.
"You're right though, can only go up." He cast his gaze around, looking for someone fun. Whether or not that fun was sex or a fight he didn't know yet. He did see a man eyeing Feliks. He nudged the other man. "Back corner, someone's eyefucking you."
He was aware of the man's eyes on him, but it was easy to ignore it. He was far too used to the sensation, even if the stares he got here were different (less disgusted, less threatening) than the stares he got out and about. Once it was pointed out to him, though, it was harder to ignore, so he turned around on his barstool to take a look.
"Not my type," he announced, crossing his legs as he turned back to Zancrow. "He can come over here if he wants to hear it from me, I'm not going all the way over there."
There was fairly rampant speculation as to what his type was, since as often as he came here, he'd never once been observed to actually leave with anyone.
"As fun as it sounds to watch for a change -- and don't get me wrong, because it sounds like it might seriously be kinda priceless -- it's cool for now."
Zancrow just looked so enthusiastic about the prospect, though, that he figured he might as well throw him a bone.
"If he comes over here and can't understand 'no', go wild."
Zancrow grinned broadly, and more than a little deranged at that.
"Oh, I will." He looked over his shoulder and sent the man a smirk. He turned his attention back to Feliks, scooting his chair a bit, making it look he was going to start hitting on him. "So, anything interested in your life happening?"
Feliks shrugged, languid, playing with the cigarette between his fingers -- he seemed more interested in fidgeting with it than in actually smoking it.
"Oh, you know, just like the same old things." No one really wanted or needed to hear about his church or his nine-to-five, and he wasn't really interested in talking about them. Which left...
"Oh! I did elbow a guy in the face last night." He didn't love fighting or go out looking for it the way Zancrow did, but he looked an awful lot like an easy target, so he'd learned to hold his own in a fight years ago. At least it made for good stories now and then.
He gave Feliks a a grin, proud of the other man. "Did you? Good on you, man." He raised his beer to him and took a swig. "What did the bastard do to get to kiss your elbow?"
He grinned back, raising his glass in return and taking a smaller sip.
"It was super gross, really. Like, I was walking somewhere, and he keeps like asking me 'how much' and all? And when I was like 'look, can you like just fuck off', he got all mad and starting talking about calling the pigs to come get me and tried to grab me, so..."
So he'd really had the elbow coming, if not a little more.
"Eh, it's not a bad as my last job," Zancrow said, lifting his new beer to his lips. The last job he had wasn't actually that bad, though he knew Feliks would dislike it. Most people didn't like mob enforcers. "Pay's better. And I get to blow shit up."
"And people say I need to work harder at making good connections," he laughed, raising his glass to him and emptying what was left in it. No sooner had he done that than he was waving over the bartender to get himself another.
"What, someone willing to set my enemies' cars on fire doesn't count as a good connection? Your standards are too high."
He glanced around the room as he sipped at his new drink, then leaned close again.
"Just so you know, I'm not sure if the guy at your 10 o'clock is looking for a fight or an angry fuck, but he's totally staring at you either way." Either one seemed equally likely around Zancrow.
Zancrow looked. "Oh, fuck him," he said with a roll of his eyes. "He wants a fight. I broke his arm last year. He's a looser, can't even throw a punch right." He takes a moment send a cocky wave at the man. "Not hard on the eyes though." He files that away for later. A fight could turn into a fuck.
"Wouldn't be a waste to me," Zancrow said. "But, I'm a violent fucker. Like you said earlier, any excuse."
As if to prove the point he turned and looked at the guy Feliks pointed out. "Hey, asshole. Yeah, you. You just gonna stare at me all night or you going to do something about it?"
"Nah, I've got to save it up for someone I really wanna mess with," he insisted, laughing as Zancrow turned to stare down his potential... challenger and/or hookup.
Liir hadn't been much big on bars before. He'd led a rather closeted existence, in more than one sense of the word: being a secret queer of course, being secretive and closed off in general, and all of his possessions in this world fitting into one. He'd slept on barracks beds, sneaked off to fuck Triism in the grass outside, like rutting animals.
When he left the military (dishonorable discharge, though he was proud of it), it was Renko who mentored him and she who'd introduced him to Zancrow.God help them both, they were friends, and Liir had needed to back him up in more brawls than he could remember. It was as if, with her gone, the two of them had taken on both halves of her personality: Liir her ice and Zancrow her fire.
That was why this dour young man who drank only lightly could be found at her old haunt all the time, nursing a cheap domestic and reading the paper in a booth.
"Don't you look cozy?" Zancrow asked as he slid into the booth across from Liir. He lit up a cigarette and blew the smoke at Liir, just to annoy him. It always struck him as interesting that they were friends. Lirr had been a military boy, whereas Zancrow was more or less a thug for hire, used by the various crime families in the city. He currently had a good gig blowing up cars. Fifty bucks a car so long as they were the right cars.
"Anything interesting in the paper or is it the same old shit?" He leaned back, exposing his neck, where bruises from someone trying to choke him were seen. Zancrow always wore his injuries proudly, whether they be from fights, or from a rough fuck.
Zancrow was always That One Friend. He rolled his eyes and took another drag on his cigarette. "I'm not in a good way, Liir, thought you knew that." He let out the smoke and took the cigarette out of his mouth, tapping it against the ash tray.
"The gig I have is good, I can't give it up. And I ain't one of those amateurs. I have yet to be arrested for arson." He took a swig of his beer and poked Liir's paper, where there was a picture of a burnt out car. "See there? That's one of mine. Belonged to a police chief, and look, they say it's car malfunction." He smirked, proud. "I'm good at my job."
Feliks had no patience for quiet corners, or for reading about how dull and grey the rest of the world was when he had these chances to escape it however briefly. After a drink or two, he always ended up dancing with one man after another, slipping away from anyone who started looking too long or too hard. He stayed on the dance floor until his feet hurt, which was his cue to get back up to the bar for round two.
But tonight, the bar was crowded; there was nowhere to sit down by the counter. Undeterred from his goal, he spotted an empty seat at a booth and tossed himself down on it, elbows on the table, legs stretched out to the side as he wiggled his toes inside his shoes.
"Hey, what're you reading?" he asked the booth's other occupant, trying to peer over the paper's edge more to see who it was than out of any actual curiosity about its contents.
Feliks wrinkled his nose, toeing off his shoes by the edge of the seat to give his tired feet a little rest.
"What, like, more than usual?" There was a light musicality to his voice, a definite hint of something Eastern European in his clear-cut consonants and occasionally blended-together, ambiguous vowels. He reached out to tug at the paper, frowning a little.
"That's a total drag. Also, kind of explains the cop that kept bugging me in the park the other day. Gross."
He managed to escape, but it had been a bit of a close thing. He'd tripped the pig, run away, and hidden in the back of a Polish deli run by an old lady who couldn't see enough to suspect him or speak English well enough to cooperate with the police much until the coast was clear. The memory of the experience and the knowledge of how boys like him got treated in prison still made him shudder, but he never wore his fear on his sleeve -- no one was going to take his happiness away from him, and in a way, that was part of his own defiance.
Stonewall AU!
Date: 2015-07-10 03:10 am (UTC)It didn't really bother him, not exactly, but it was still a relief every time he saw the dingy brick facade and glowing sign come into his line of sight, every time he felt the door close behind him. Whatever the risk might be of getting caught here, he could do what he wanted in this place. Here, more even than in Little Poland sometimes, he was with his people.
As soon as he was in the door, he snuck off to the bathroom to get changed and throw a little light makeup on. Half the people he knew in the daytime would be scandalized to see the miniskirts he'd grown fond of on a woman, let alone on him... Even here, they'd contributed in no small part to his accidental reputation as a cocktease, which he couldn't honestly be bothered to care about, because it wasn't his damn fault if men wanted to jump to conclusions over his hemlines (or, for that matter, over the way he danced or the jokes he told or how much he drank.)
With his daytime clothes stuffed into his oversized purse, he made his way out into the smoky bar, hopping up onto the first empty stool he could find. Even with his high heels, his feet didn't quite reach the ground.
"Can I like, just get my usual?" he asked the bartender, his Polish accent thick and rich despite the lazy lightness of his voice. The bartender nodded, brought out a clean glass, and brought a bottle of vodka out from under the counter, pouring a generous measure in. (What, he'd been known to ask, with self-mocking humor that came straight from his motherland, do I look to you like the kind of sissy who needs it on the rocks?) It was only once he had his glass in hand than he bothered to look around and see who he'd ended up sitting next to, raising his glass to them with a cheerful smile.
"Na zdrowie!" He took a slow sip, feeling it warm him up from the inside out, then leaned back in his chair with the glass cradled between his slim fingers. "So, you're having a good night?"
no subject
Date: 2015-07-10 03:51 am (UTC)“Doing pretty well so far,” he said taking a pull on his beer. “Got into a fight with some yokel who thought that I was a hippie.” He gave a tug on his hair. “Maybe I should cut this mess. I’m tired of being mistaken for one of those tree fuckers.”
He pulled out a carton of cigarettes, stuck one in his mouth and lit up. “Want a smoke?” he offered, holding the carton out to Feliks. There were only three left, all turned upside down, showing the tobacco leaves.
no subject
Date: 2015-07-10 11:37 pm (UTC)"Like, what's the point changing your style for somebody else? Anyway, I kind of don't think you actually mind the excuse for a little fight."
no subject
Date: 2015-07-11 05:20 pm (UTC)He took another drag, before taking the cigarette out his mouth and tapping it against a nearby ashtray. "What about yourself? Good night so far?"
no subject
Date: 2015-07-12 02:39 am (UTC)He took a little drag, tried to keep his nose from wrinkling -- he'd never had the taste for cigarettes that a lot of people did, didn't care much for the smell, but they did calm the anxiety he often felt around strangers, and he sort of liked the physical sensation of them.
"Anyway, I just got here. So it's probably moving uphill!"
no subject
Date: 2015-07-12 06:13 pm (UTC)"You're right though, can only go up." He cast his gaze around, looking for someone fun. Whether or not that fun was sex or a fight he didn't know yet. He did see a man eyeing Feliks. He nudged the other man. "Back corner, someone's eyefucking you."
no subject
Date: 2015-07-12 07:44 pm (UTC)"Not my type," he announced, crossing his legs as he turned back to Zancrow. "He can come over here if he wants to hear it from me, I'm not going all the way over there."
There was fairly rampant speculation as to what his type was, since as often as he came here, he'd never once been observed to actually leave with anyone.
no subject
Date: 2015-07-13 10:31 pm (UTC)Distracting meant either fighting of fucking, depending on the guy. And this guy was serious fight material.
no subject
Date: 2015-07-14 02:13 am (UTC)Zancrow just looked so enthusiastic about the prospect, though, that he figured he might as well throw him a bone.
"If he comes over here and can't understand 'no', go wild."
no subject
Date: 2015-07-14 09:33 pm (UTC)"Oh, I will." He looked over his shoulder and sent the man a smirk. He turned his attention back to Feliks, scooting his chair a bit, making it look he was going to start hitting on him. "So, anything interested in your life happening?"
no subject
Date: 2015-07-14 10:26 pm (UTC)"Oh, you know, just like the same old things." No one really wanted or needed to hear about his church or his nine-to-five, and he wasn't really interested in talking about them. Which left...
"Oh! I did elbow a guy in the face last night." He didn't love fighting or go out looking for it the way Zancrow did, but he looked an awful lot like an easy target, so he'd learned to hold his own in a fight years ago. At least it made for good stories now and then.
no subject
Date: 2015-07-15 12:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-15 12:52 pm (UTC)"It was super gross, really. Like, I was walking somewhere, and he keeps like asking me 'how much' and all? And when I was like 'look, can you like just fuck off', he got all mad and starting talking about calling the pigs to come get me and tried to grab me, so..."
So he'd really had the elbow coming, if not a little more.
no subject
Date: 2015-07-17 01:56 pm (UTC)He took another swig of his beer, finishing it, and ordered another. "You want something? My new job pays big."
no subject
Date: 2015-07-17 08:58 pm (UTC)"Should I be scared to ask about your 'new job'?"
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Date: 2015-07-18 03:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-07-18 04:07 am (UTC)And it did, or at least, it sounded like a plus for Zancrow. Feliks would take that.
"I mean, everyone should totally have fun at their job, right?"
no subject
Date: 2015-07-19 12:03 am (UTC)"You ever have a problem with anyone, let me know. I'll blow up their car for you, free of charge since we're such good friends."
Was on internet hiatus for like 2 and a half weeks and am still catching up, sorry
Date: 2015-08-13 07:00 am (UTC)"I'm definitely gonna keep that in mind!"
It's all good
Date: 2015-08-14 01:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2015-08-15 01:37 pm (UTC)He glanced around the room as he sipped at his new drink, then leaned close again.
"Just so you know, I'm not sure if the guy at your 10 o'clock is looking for a fight or an angry fuck, but he's totally staring at you either way." Either one seemed equally likely around Zancrow.
no subject
Date: 2015-08-15 02:30 pm (UTC)He took another swig. "You got any enemies."
no subject
Date: 2015-08-15 04:39 pm (UTC)As for enemies... "Nobody I'm gonna waste a favor on right now, if that's what you're asking?"
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Date: 2015-08-16 10:58 pm (UTC)As if to prove the point he turned and looked at the guy Feliks pointed out. "Hey, asshole. Yeah, you. You just gonna stare at me all night or you going to do something about it?"
no subject
Date: 2015-08-21 03:04 am (UTC)"Am I in the way now?"
no subject
Date: 2015-08-21 02:34 pm (UTC)The guy's face was turning an angry red and the bar tender looked terrified that something would actually happen.
no subject
Date: 2015-08-22 01:47 pm (UTC)"Try not to break any of the bar's shit, or I might forget about bailing you out!"
same Stonewall AU, OTA
Date: 2015-07-11 03:33 pm (UTC)When he left the military (dishonorable discharge, though he was proud of it), it was Renko who mentored him and she who'd introduced him to Zancrow.God help them both, they were friends, and Liir had needed to back him up in more brawls than he could remember. It was as if, with her gone, the two of them had taken on both halves of her personality: Liir her ice and Zancrow her fire.
That was why this dour young man who drank only lightly could be found at her old haunt all the time, nursing a cheap domestic and reading the paper in a booth.
no subject
Date: 2015-07-11 05:32 pm (UTC)"Anything interesting in the paper or is it the same old shit?" He leaned back, exposing his neck, where bruises from someone trying to choke him were seen. Zancrow always wore his injuries proudly, whether they be from fights, or from a rough fuck.
no subject
Date: 2015-07-12 01:03 am (UTC)"The cops are cracking down on homos left and right. I wish you would take it a little easier. Your case would make headlines, and not in a good way."
no subject
Date: 2015-07-12 01:19 am (UTC)"The gig I have is good, I can't give it up. And I ain't one of those amateurs. I have yet to be arrested for arson." He took a swig of his beer and poked Liir's paper, where there was a picture of a burnt out car. "See there? That's one of mine. Belonged to a police chief, and look, they say it's car malfunction." He smirked, proud. "I'm good at my job."
no subject
Date: 2015-07-12 02:04 pm (UTC)"Oh, for god's...Come stay with me if you need to."
A pause while he looked at the article.
"...Good job though."
And on to his neck.
"And it looks like your new job hasn't diminished your appetite for...'fun'."
no subject
Date: 2015-07-12 06:21 pm (UTC)"I might have to take you up on that." He motioned to his neck. "My roommate's a little touchy about my employers, and got into a snit."
no subject
Date: 2015-07-12 12:43 pm (UTC)But tonight, the bar was crowded; there was nowhere to sit down by the counter. Undeterred from his goal, he spotted an empty seat at a booth and tossed himself down on it, elbows on the table, legs stretched out to the side as he wiggled his toes inside his shoes.
"Hey, what're you reading?" he asked the booth's other occupant, trying to peer over the paper's edge more to see who it was than out of any actual curiosity about its contents.
no subject
Date: 2015-07-12 02:07 pm (UTC)He had an urge to tell him to fuck off. That was just territoriality talking. At least he was curious. Or abotu to hit on him.
"Raids. Most of the cruising spots around here are getting hit. It's...disconcerting."
no subject
Date: 2015-07-12 03:42 pm (UTC)"What, like, more than usual?" There was a light musicality to his voice, a definite hint of something Eastern European in his clear-cut consonants and occasionally blended-together, ambiguous vowels. He reached out to tug at the paper, frowning a little.
"That's a total drag. Also, kind of explains the cop that kept bugging me in the park the other day. Gross."
He managed to escape, but it had been a bit of a close thing. He'd tripped the pig, run away, and hidden in the back of a Polish deli run by an old lady who couldn't see enough to suspect him or speak English well enough to cooperate with the police much until the coast was clear. The memory of the experience and the knowledge of how boys like him got treated in prison still made him shudder, but he never wore his fear on his sleeve -- no one was going to take his happiness away from him, and in a way, that was part of his own defiance.