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02: Easy Does It

Nico's about to vomit. He hasn't even made it past the lobby yet, he's so nervous, he barely slept at all last night. He sucks a breath in through his nose, pushes it out his mouth. Or is it meant to be the other way around?

Shit.

His mouth is dry and his fur feels all stiff and creased. He's not sure if he showered long enough that morning, or maybe he showered too long? Mother's medication is clutched in one paw, and he quickly stuffs the baggy in his satchel, paws fumbling with the latch. He puts it in snug, burying it next to the plastic-glue he picked up earlier today. He's worried someone might see, even knowing it's irrational. What are they going to say?

"Can I help you, sir?" Nico nearly screams at the sound of a new voice, but it's just an austere-looking greyhound in a black and white suit. His frame is slender and lean, like a slice of solid contrast cut into the fabric of the world. His irises are lined with concentric neon rings - eye-based wetware.

"Er, um, well... yes?" Nico stammers. He's done this a thousand times before, Vlad's Promise is like a second home to him. So why does he feel so scared?

Again, he is certain he's about to vomit.

The greyhound's eyes tighten slightly. "Do you have a reservation to dine in tonight, sir?" The way he says 'sir' is perfectly polite and proper, and yet Nico can hear the mocking tone behind it. There's people filing in around him, and Nico feels certain they're staring, snickering to themselves.

"Oh, me? No, no I don't. Rather... the bar." He swallows, trying to get a grip. "I'm just here for a drink, to meet someone."

"Of course." The greyhound says. "Right this way." And he waves Nico toward the bar.

Passing through a gaudy marble and bronze archway, Nico is welcomed with the scent of alcohol and sweat. The lights alternate between neon red and indigo, flashing to the thump of some distant bass beat. The gain in the song has been turned so high the audio is clipping, giving the music an eerie and almost industrial vibe. It's kind of cool, but in the way two pieces of steel wool being rubbed together is cool.

Nico keeps a tight grip on his satchel strap, wary of pickpockets. He isn't wearing anything too fancy, a nice short-sleeve black shirt with a collar, pink geometric patterns running across the front. His jeans are grey and his feet are pushed into brand new Vans, not yet worn in and pushing stiffly against his feet. Even with the short sleeves he feels hot, stuffy.

Absently he tries to remember where the bathroom is, making a mental map to it in case his stomach decides it needs to pray to the porcelain throne.

Paws and tails curl around him as he sidles through the vibing crowd. They're bopping along, shouting small talk in one another's ears, a glass of wine or beer or spirits clutched in their paws. A hyena with chrome spikes jutting from his skull is flowing like water, only several hours out of time with the beat. A lizard with transparent arms, flexiglass wrapped around metal bones and blood, is curving this way and that. A squat husky kisses Nico's neck, his paw tracing over the red panda's crotch. Nico smiles politely, extricating himself. He's so nervous that every sensation is dialled up to eleven, every brush against him like a slap, every breath a hurricane. A lot of the dancers have tiny umbrellas in their drinks. Does Vlad's Promise always give out tiny umbrellas?

Finally, Nico makes it to the bar, clutching the brushed steel like it's a life-raft in a flood. Barman is a chiselled German Shepard squeezed into a tank-top, the bottom half of his jaw is steel plated with an iridescent finish, the lights and lasers of the floor glancing off the oil-like fluidity. There are blacklight-sensitive patterns worked into the fur along his arms, and for a second Nico is totally hypnotised.

"WDLDITBE" The bartender shouts, but Nico can barely make the words out, his heart is thumping so loud in his ears, or is that the music? Jalan's gonna be here any second, he needs to relax, to relax, to just fucking relax.

"Jack!" Nico shouts, blinking so fast he probably looks like some addled-up tweaker. "Jack and coke!" This barman is gonna throw him out, he's sure.

The big dog gives him a queer look but fetches the drink, and Nico presses his thumb against the glass as he takes it, paying.

"Thirty-one points deducted," Clancy says in his ear, the AI's voice a cheerful sing-song, as if that price isn't a complete rip-off.

Nico mouths the word thanks_at the bartender and turns away, leaning on the bar as he tries to sip at the drink nonchalantly. His eyes are wide open, straining in the dim light of the bar, scouring the crowd for any hint of his handsome fox. He goes over the plan again in his head, nothing fancy, no big drama - Jalan comes over and Nico says '_I love you'. Then, it's up to Jalan to respond. Maybe he'll feel the same.

Nico doesn't think so, but he has to try, right?

He's hoping the drink will calm his nerves, but it's doing the opposite. Maybe he should have gotten something a little more chill, something without sugar, but he wanted to look suave, and suave people drink things like jack and coke, even if it tastes like sweetened crude oil.

Calm. Calm. Jalan will come over, Nico messaged him earlier, so he knows to. The fox is always late, busy with clients maybe, or trying to look cool, either or.

Easy does it, Nico. He thinks. He must have accidentally subvocalised the words, because Clancy's subtitle pops up in the lower horizon of his vision, a tiny question mark floating in the centre. He dismisses it quickly, trying to make sure not to subvoc again. Stay calm, keep it cool, just vibe and watch the crowd. Yeah, just vibe.

He lets his head bounce to beat, as his eyes find a large bull near the eye of the storm, his body covered in thick muscles like they were plates of armour. His hide is blue with creamy splotches, like ice-cream, his shimmering modded horns stretching up like wicked flames sprouting from his head. He's wearing nothing but a pair of tight lycra short-shorts, and even from here Nico can see the obvious shape of his hard bulge, snug in the taut material, pulsing as if it wants to be free. His fists are raised and pumping, his nostrils grilled and ringed, a shiny metal aug running down the length of his spine. He twists in place, grinding that bulge against some cute wolverine's bedazzled ass. She seems to like it, pressing back into him, a technicolour tongue whipping across her lips. The bull turns about again, and now Nico can see the glowing sleeve tattoo covering his left arm. It starts with an old fashioned cross at the shoulder, a tiny diagonal line running about halfway down the shaft - the symbol of the Neo-Orthodox Church. Religious murals and patterned lines of scripture follow beneath, culminating in a barcode that wraps around one wrist. A single word to Clancy and Nico's eyes could scan it, probably taking him to a subscription page owned by the good Reverend Luther.

Reach down deep into your hearts and your pocketbooks. Anything can be forgiven, and salvation is only an account away - any time, any place, for any one. That weird church really is everywhere these days, and it gives Nico a slightly uneasy feeling. He wonders what the fanatics of pre-twencen would think of subscription based faith.

Oddly, he's reminded of Alaska, the strange grey wolf tether he met last night. He bets that Leviathan, whatever it truly is, doesn't think too highly of a man like Reverend Luther.

Strangely, thinking about Alaska feels like a betrayal. Like Nico is being somehow unfaithful to Jalan, even though they aren't officially together yet. Why? The wolf _was_handsome, of course, and kind of charming in a manic sort of way. In the moment, Nico had been more frightened and bewildered than attracted to him. Yet, he still feels guilty.

You didn't even do anything, he was just some hexer. Yeah. Just some hexer, who cares?

Though, he was also one of the most powerful tethers Nico has ever seen. That patch Alaska gave him is still in his bag, along with the Leviathan business card. Why hasn't he gotten rid of those yet? He doesn't need them, last thing he needs is to get mixed up with some anti-corpo movement, they have a habit of dying in tragic 'accidents'.

Shaking his head as he sips the drink again, Nico pushes thoughts of Alaska away - he'll probably never see him again.

He's feeling better now, calmer, more easy going. Maybe the suave drink is helping, and it doesn't even taste that bad now that he's two-thirds through it. Nico's gonna do this, damn it, he's gonna stay strong, in control, and he is going to tell Jalan exactly what he--

"Hey Neeks." Nico nearly drops his drink in surprise. He turns to see Jalan, a gorgeous orange fox with plenty of expensive melanin implants. For a moment, and only a moment, Nico is wholly transfixed. The tops of Jalan's ears are vibrant lava orange, the insides cool and pleasing. The fur on the front of his face and jaw are charcoal black, giving a shroud of mystery to his crystalline blue eyes. The pattern covers his whole body, Nico knows it from personal exploration, all the fox's body mods well-hidden beneath skin and muscle. Jalan's wearing a fur-tight latex vest, one that reaches up to touch the underside of his jaw, the arm holes curving inward at his pectorals. The slick material shimmers with the colours of the bar, and Nico doesn't know what to say.

"Hello! Nico? How are you?" Jalan shouts in his ear, laughing. His voice has a lithe tilt to it, almost sing-song, playful. It's the best sound in the world.

Nico can't move, his fingers won't work.

I love you. Wait, no, he's only thinking it, he needs to say it.

"I um..."

Cool, calm, in control. Easy does it, right?

"Are you okay?" Jalan shouts. "Sorry I'm late!" He's so beautiful. Nico can't think. He wants to kiss him, wants to go straight upstairs to a room right now and tear that latex top off. Or leave it on? Damn it, he's hard now and this isn't how this is supposed to go.

"J-Jalan... I..." He's saying. Poorly. "I wanted to say," It's too loud in here. "Er, you see, it's that..." Calm. Easy going. "There's something I'm meaning to... something I've been meaning to say to you!" Suave. Keep it cool.

"What's up?" Jalan shouts back. The fox sidles closer, one paw drifting over Nico's abdomen, the fingers electrifying as they touch the panda's fur, slipping teasingly beneath the hem of his shirt.

Nico tastes vomit.

He pushes past the stunning fox, making for the bathroom like he's a man on fire heading for the lake. His mouth was dry before, but now it's flooded with saliva, his stomach churning, an acrid taste rising in the back of his throat, muscles constricting. He bumps into the Neodox bull from earlier, stumbles, but the big guy grabs him and rights him up. Asks something, but Nico doesn't hear it.

Bathroom.

He hits the door and stumbles into thick violet light, bumping into a horse standing at a urinal, who seems busy doing more stroking than peeing. Angry voices are crying out, protesting that Nico jumped the line.

"Hey, mate watch it--!"

"Can you please wait?"

"Hey-hey he skipped! I'm 'bouta piss my jeans!"

Nico doesn't care. A bear is coming out of a stall, and he slips right through, falling to his knees even as he shoves the lid up. Smells awful, but beggars can't be choosers.

So much for easy does it. He thinks, just as the vomit punches up his throat and sprays from his maw, coating his teeth and souring that suave aftertaste from his drink. Most of the yellow and green bits get into the bowl, but some splatters onto the lip, dousing Nico's gripping white-knuckles with a fine misting of churn.

After two, three, _four_good heaves, he collapses back against the wall, trying to stave off tears. So embarrassing. He wipes the back of one paw over his lips, but there's still vomit in his fur and it doesn't clean anything.

"Nico?!" A worried voice is calling. "You in here?"

Oh no.

Jalan shoves some dude aside as he comes in, telling him to get fucked. His wandering eyes finally spot Nico flopped on his ass like a sack of potatoes, and the fox (bless his heart) falls to his knees, brows crinkled.

"Oh, are you alright? What happened baby?" Jalan asks. His outfit doesn't look quite as good in the purple anti-vein light of the bathroom, but Nico still likes it.

"I'm... just a little queasy. Tried to stay calm, and uh, failed."

"You wanna just chill here, or should we go up to the room?" Jalan puts an open paw on Nico's chest, and he's terrified the fox will be able to feel his heartbeat.

"Let's go to the room," Nico says, letting Jalan help him to his feet.

"This ain't a god-damn sick bay!" The horse from before says, tucking his dick back in his jeans.

"Just ignore 'em baby." Jalan says, holding Nico's paw as he leads the red panda back out into the bar.

They push through the crowd and reach the elevator, where Jalan swipes his access card to buzz them up. They get out at the sixteenth floor, and Nico manages to shake himself free, walking by himself, wet paws pushed deep in his pockets.

Who wants to hear that a vomit-stained man-child is in love with them? He thinks, side-eyeing the curvaceous fox. Even now Jalan walks with an unconscious swagger of his wide hips. He looks so sure of himself, as if nothing is any trouble. As if he doesn't care that the guy he's with is splattered with spew from the neck down. Nico's wishing the ground would just swallow him up.

Jalan leads him to a room and swipes them in.

"Let's get you undressed," the fox says, stepping up to Nico. He reaches down and grabs the hem of his shirt. "Need to get nice and clean, huh?" Nico lets his still-damp shirt come off, dropping his satchel to one side. It feels good to be taken care of like this. Briefly, a memory of Mother sick with gastro pops into his mind. The whole apartment was like sewer, foul refuse coming out both ends, Nico of course being the one pushed into holding the buckets. Mother made him take his annual leave then, so he could stay home and care for her. He'd been sick too, but that hadn't mattered to her.

Jalan isn't like that. He's kind, and sweet, and nothing troubles him. Now that Nico's topless, Jalan places his slender paws around the sides of the panda's belly, delicately kissing his chest, cooing sweet nothings.

"You know you're the only red panda I've ever been with?" Jalan asks him softly. "I don't think I'd ever want to be with another, there's just no way they'd live up to you..." And his paw slips under Nico's beltline, cupping his sheath through the fabric of his underwear. Jalan looks up and presses his lips to Nico's, their tails swishing in time. "Let's get these off already," Jalan whispers, finally. "I missed you yesterday." As he's undoing the buckle on Nico's belt. "Had to make do with some goat twins."

"Mhmm, oh yeah?" Nico's nodding along as he steps out of his pants, underwear tenting despite the hot shame still flooding his system. He needs to say it, but he can't.

"Yeah. It was fun but... nothing like you. Here we go..." Jalan slides Nico's grey undies down for him, revealing his half-hard dick, the firm red flesh poking up through his dark-furred sheath. Nico blushes, even though Jalan's seen it a dozen times before. "I missed it," Jalan whispers. And he wraps his paw around Nico's length, sliding the excess fur down, two fingers exploring inside the sheath. Nico sighs, stepping out of his fallen underwear as Jalan leads him cock-first to the shower.

The fox quickly strips, and the two step into the water. Nico lets it wash over him, soaking into his fur, purging him of the acidic filth. He quickly rinses his mouth out and spits, fingers combing through the thick fur around his belly. Nico's pressing up behind Jalan, his cock rubbing between the fox's ass cheeks. Hot water is streaming down around them, patting their fur flat, steam rising to fill the spacious shower. The bathroom walls are marble with silver accents, tasteful, one whole wall of the shower a large mirror. Nico reaches around, cups Jalan's balls in one paw, strokes his cock with the other. He's watching the fox's hard dick in the mirror.

"That feel good baby?" Jalan asks.

"Oh yeah, it does." Nico replies, grinding himself into Jalan's back.

"You feeling clean?"

"Very."

"So let's move to the bed, and get dirty again." Jalan turns about in place, seizing both their dicks together, his water-slick paw sliding up and down over them both, squeezing and nudging in all the right places. His thumb traces over the top of Nico's cock slit, massaging the underside of the panda's head. Nico groans, wilting slightly.

The water shuts off and they step out, quickly drying themselves with a combination of towels and hot air.

Nico's dry last, and he steps out to see Jalan splayed naked on the bed, one leg cocked up, a playful smile on his lips.

"You're so beautiful," Nico says, and it comes out almost as a whimper. Jalan is slowly teasing himself, fingers dipping inside his own sheath now, swirling around his own length. He knows it drives Nico crazy.

"And you're such a sweetheart," Jalan says. Nico's body is screaming at him to go now, to fuck Jalan, to taste his cum and his sweat and everything else he has to offer.

No, this has to be done now.

"So, the reason I was so nervous," he starts, his own dick shrinking back into his sheath. "Is that I wanted to tell you something." Easy does it, right?

"C'mere and tell me baby." Jalan waves him over, and Nico comes closer, right to the edge of the bed. Jalan climbs to his knees, shuffles over so they're pressed almost belly-to-belly.

He's going to think I'm such an idiot. Nico thinks, but he's already started now, and can't stop. He's going to hate me, might even slap me.

"The thing is I've been thinking that... well, I really like spending time with you." Good start, strong, Jalan's tail is wagging softly. "And you're so gorgeous, and you listen to me, you know me."

Nico puts his paws around Jalan's waist, cupping the small of his back. "I do my best," Jalan says coyly, fingers tracing over Nico's jaw. "I like spending time with you too."

He's going to scream and cry and kick me out.

"Jalan," Nico says, cringing. "I love you, and I want you to be my boyfriend." He closes his eyes in shock, not wanting to see the disgust that must be on the fox's face. There's a moment of silence, it seems to stretch on forever. Nico can't move, can't think, can't do anything but stay standing with his eyes squeezed shut.

He feels a paw press at his collar. "Oh, Neeks."

"That is, if you want." Nico says, stammering, shaking his head with his eyes still closed. "I don't care about your work, or about where you live, I just want us to be together."

He feels Jalan's fingers touch the bottom of his chin. "You're an angel, Nico. I hope you know that."

"I really do, want you, I mean," Nico says, finally opening his eyes. He's surprised, to see that Jalan doesn't look angry, or disgusted, just... a little sad. "I love you so much. I dream about you. I was... I was hoping you felt the same."

"Look, baby," Jalan says softly, his other paw tracing Nico's belly fur. "I like you a lot too, you're very kind and sweet and we always have fun together... but you need to understand that this is my job. I get paid to be nice. And I know you think it's love, but this isn't how love works."

"M-maybe not at first," Nico says, cheeks hot with shame. "But I've come to find--"

"Nico, you don't even know me. Not really," Jalan explains. He sounds so kind and understanding, and it's only making Nico's heart hurt more. "All this," he waves around himself. "It's a persona, I put it on for clients here, clients like you. I _do_like you, and you're a really good guy, but this is my job, and I can't be your boyfriend."

Nico's insides are cold. His whole body feels dead, like the nerves have stopped working. Suddenly he feels so embarrassed to be naked, and he quickly turns away, blinking back stinging tears as he pulls up his undies and jeans.

"I'm sorry," He mumbles, picking up his shirt. His face is burning, pins and needles washing over him, eyes already stinging from the coming tears.

"Don't be sorry. You're a lovely guy, and I'm sure you'll find someone to love you very soon," Jalan replies. It's harder that he's being so nice about it, pity somehow even more humiliating than disgust. Nico can feel nothing but heat, a fire burning his face, his whole head, his entire body. "You deserve it. Do you still wanna stay here and play with me? I don't mind."

The only thing I deserve is to be alone, Nico thinks, one paw wiping his eyes, shirt tugging over his head. That's what you get for falling in love with a whore. Stupid, stupid fucking idiot.

"I need to go," he says, turning back and offering one of his finger-pads to Jalan.

The fox smiles gently. "There's no charge for tonight. I hope you come back."

"Sure." Nico sniffs, hefting his satchel and stumbling to the door. He can't get it open, fingers too numb and stupid to even work that. Finally, it unlatches and he leaves, feeling like the biggest fool on the planet. He's blinking through tears now, only barely keeping the sobs at bay, his insides a mixture of different pains all swirled together like colours of paint. Rejection, embarrassment, anger, denial. There are others in the hall, walking with their own hookers, and they give him wide berths. It's everyone now, everyone is looking at the pathetic red panda sobbing his way to the elevator.

So much for easy does it.