Characters: Ryo, Dee, OCs.
Setting: After Like Like Love.
Summary: After a bad murder case, Dee and Ryo need to be among the living so they head for the noisiest, most crowded club they know.
Word Count: 500
Written For: Prompt 118: Electric at anythingdrabble.
Disclaimer: I don’t own FAKE, or the characters. They belong to the wonderful Sanami Matoh.
The atmosphere inside the club was electric, strobe lights flickering, the heavy beat of music so loud that it was felt more than heard, pounding up through the soles of their feet.
Dee and Ryo had caught a bad case earlier that day, although a relatively open and shut one; a man had murdered his wife and kids because she’d been going to leave him. The murderer was in custody, had even confessed, drunk out of his skull and laughing about the fact that he’d stopped her leaving, that she was never getting away from him.
The whole affair had dragged the two detectives down, which was why they were here, in a crowded, noisy club, needing to be somewhere filled with life and sound to chase away the shadows of death.
It wasn’t one of their regular clubs, they usually avoided this one because it was too crowded, people pressing in on each other from all sides, but tonight that was what they wanted. They couldn’t move without being jostled by people squeezing past them, going to and from the bar or the dance floor.
The music, if it could be called that, wasn’t to their tastes either; trance or house, something like that, all electronic and repetitive, but the other clubbers obviously approved. Then again, most of them looked to be in their early twenties, while Dee and Ryo were both just on the wrong side of thirty.
They squeezed their way up to the bar, ordered and knocked back a couple of shots of tequila each, then fought their way onto the dance floor to join the writhing throngs, soon finding themselves in the middle of a group consisting mostly of women. That was another reason they didn’t frequent this place, preferring to stick to gay clubs where two guys dancing together only garnered them admiring and sometimes envious looks, rather than attracting half the single girls present. Ryo soon found himself with a blonde in an electric blue mini-dress practically hanging around his neck, while Dee had a redhead on one side and a brunette on the other.
It didn’t matter; they were living people, and if they got a bit grabby, for once Ryo didn’t much care; he and Dee kept their eyes fixed on each other as they gave in to the rhythms of the music pounding through their blood, until eventually they found themselves pressed together, grinding against each other while their female groupies groped at them, urging them on. A couple of nearby guys joined in too, high on booze and possibly drugs, and the music went on, unabated.
By the time they left, sometime in the early hours, they each had several phone numbers scrawled on bar napkins and shoved in pockets, or down pants and shirts; not all of them from women. Ryo had the blonde’s number and name, Angela, scrawled in eyeliner on his left arm.
They felt better though, reenergized, recharged, alive, the spectre of death swept away.