POISON

search and destroy

Despite the club being at full capacity, the dance floor wasn't too busy. Stages were occupied by multiple dancers as customers were recklessly spending, the amount had doubled to more than one might get on a regular basis. The bar was packed, and more staff had needed to be called in.

These were the kind of nights that had the potential to make bachelor parties seem mediocre in comparison. Deep red lights, loud music, heat that rose by the minute from both the lights and the amount of people-the atmosphere was electric.

Having just finished his set on stage, Gerard was intent on seeing his favourite bartender. Crossing the dance floor meant that, inevitably, he'd be called for, prompting him to stick to the shadows around the outside-work could wait.

Regardless, Gerard wasn't invisible, and he was on shift, dressed in a favoured outfit. He couldn't just ignore customers; he didn't want a reputation in the club scene as rude-a title that Val happily maintained and expertly used to his advantage.

Someone slipped a dollar bill in the waistband of his jeans as he passed, surprisingly well as he was walking fast-paced, and they hadn't tugged him back. He glanced down the amount he'd been given-twenty dollars-and figured he could take a small detour.

Gerard turned around to see Pete. One of Mikey's friends. Here.

His smile dropped, and he checked that the people he was with weren't any others he knew and was relieved to find a bunch of strangers. None of which were Mikey, thank God.

Pete met his gaze. "Gerard?" he blurted out, equally surprised.

The last time Pete had seen him must have been when he had black hair, a very different style, and was living at his mother's house.

"Don't call me that." Gerard instructed, again checking that the others weren't paying attention to their conversation-he couldn't have anyone at the club knowing his real name, it sent his panic into overdrive and his heart hammer in his chest.

Pete jumped up, taking Gerard by the arm to stand towards the side of the room to talk properly, to which he didn't object.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Gerard asked, a stupid question, but he was extremely caught off guard.

Eyebrows raised, Pete gestured vaguely at the club. Then his gaze skimmed over Gerard's attire. "What should I call you?"

Gerard noticed; he knew that meant he looked good. It just felt a bit weird coming from someone he'd known since he was a teenager. Someone who'd been kept out of this side of his life.

"Poison," Gerard sighed.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

He scoffed, "That's kinda-"

"You're the one at a strip club," Gerard shot back before Pete could comment.

"You're the one working at a strip club."

"Yeah." He put a hand on his hip, where Pete had tucked the money, easily slipping back into his club attitude. "So, d'you want that dance, or shall we catch up afterwards?"

"Keep the twenty, we can catch up after." Pete instantly revised that statement though. This wasn't the basement-dwelling Gerard he'd known, and he looked like a fucking good time. "Anyone else you'd recommend?"

"V." Gerard nodded towards Val, who was currently talking to another customer. "Tip him well, or I'll have to hear about it later."

"Got it, thanks. Poison." Pete chuckled and Gerard rolled his eyes. "Does Mikey know you do this? Or is this information I can freak him out with later?"