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Don't Chase The Boys

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The first rule to working at Club Galra, the one thing Zarkon stressed before offering Hunk the job, was that floor staff were not to date the dancers. Or as Haggar, Zarkon’s right hand woman, put it “Do not flirt with, do not fuck, do not date, do not try to save the strippers.”

It made things ‘difficult’ apparently. Distracted the dancers, could affect performance if they started to feel ‘weird’ about stripping in front of the person they were dating, could mess with the customers and how they tipped if the illusion of attainability was ruined. It could mess with the floor staff too; a fight between a former bouncer and a customer was referenced to that end. 

At the time it was easy to agree to. Hunk was 21, about a six hour drive from home (the furthest from his parents he’d ever been), having just dropped out of the local college to go to culinary school ‘in the city’, and would have agreed to any job that worked with his class schedule and covered his rent. 

The problem was that he didn’t have much experience in anything aside from bagging groceries and people liked experience, and that his classes were in the evening which meant he needed something early in the morning or later in the night. 

Which had brought him to Club Galra. He’d seen an ad for a bouncer on-line and nearly dismissed it until he’d spotted ‘no experience necessary’ and that the projected pay was a hell of a lot more than he’d make working as a bagger or flipping burgers. A lot more. He hadn’t really expected to get the job but had been hopeful his…impressive size would sway the owner. 

Hunk had never been the type to throw his weight around and he wasn’t what he would call intimidating but for rent money he could fake it until he made it. It would be nice if being big could work in his favor for a change of pace. 

And, it seemed, it would. Zarkon took one look at him, asked if he could thought he could pick up a drunk asshole and toss them out if needed (Which yeah, he was positive he could) and that was basically the interview. 5 days a week, 7 hours a night, 90 day trial period, great pay, free food if he wanted to indulge in bar wings.

Agreeing to not hit on the dancers with all that on the table seemed like such a none issue. He wasn’t exactly some sort of Casanova type who went around flirting with people he didn’t know, more prone to be labeled the ‘older brother’ than someone other people wanted to date, and it was a job. He was there to work, not find a boyfriend. 

He was sure they’d be attractive, that was their job after all, but not ‘potentially lose a great job’ attractive so he was sure he was in the clear. 

And, if he was being honest, he sort of figured he wouldn’t be interested in guys who took off their clothes for a living. Which was a jerk thing to think and he knew it but…it wasn’t as if he could bring that person home. He could just imagine how something like would go over with his parents. 

He managed to keep that opinion for about…forty-five minutes into his first shift. He was at the bar with Shiro, the club’s bartender/bouncer, learning to use the register ‘just in case’, when it happened. They weren’t open for another fifteen minutes but he could hear people outside already and Sendak, the club’s head bouncer and Hunk’s ‘direct supervisor’, had reported it looked like a decent crowd. From what Hunk understood Club Zarkon bough in a pretty mixed group, men and women, had a wide variety of ‘types’ dancing for them, and was busy even during the week. 

He spotted movement out of the corner of his eye, someone stepping through the curtain next to the stage that hide the back of the club from the customer area. He looked up, curious. He hadn’t met any of the dancers yet, Shiro said he’d get to see and talk to them as they came out after their sets to mingle with the customers, but he interested in doing so. He was working the front door and the floor, tasked with making sure people were carded and treated the dancers ‘appropriately’ so knowing who he was looking after seemed like a good idea. 

The man who stepped out from behind the curtain and headed directly for the bar was…Hunk forgot how to breathe for a second. He was…attractive didn’t exactly cover it. About Hunk’s height, long limbed with narrow shoulders, pale skin, and dark violet eyes. His black hair was drawn up into two small pigtails with bangs that fell over his forehead and into his eyes. His chest was bare, showing off toned muscle and abs that looked like they’d been rubbed down with oil and glitter; his skin was gleaming under the house lights. He had on red shorts in some stretchy fabric, tight enough to leave nothing to the imagination and short enough that when he walked past Hunk to lean against the bar and call for Shiro, who’d stepped back into the kitchen, that there was a definite hint of cheek there. 

He had a nice ass. Hunk could understand wanting to show it off. 

“Keith?” Shiro called. A moment later he was pushing open the kitchen door, frowning. “What’s up?”

“Do something about Lance.” Keith pushed back from the bar and crossed his arms over his chest. “He’s in my crap again.” 

Shiro’s eyes cut towards Hunk and his lips pressed into a thin line. “What makes you think I can do anything about Lance?” 

Keith snorted. “You know you’re the only person he listens to. Get him or else he’s coming out with a black eye tonight.” 

Shiro grumbled what sounded like ‘children please’ then nodded. “Tell him to come here.” 

“Thanks.” Keith’s tone didn’t change, a toneless deadpan. He turned, clearly intent on returning to the back, then stopped when he met Hunk’s eyes. (Because, of course, Hunk was staring like some teenage idiot who’d never seen a cute guy before.) “You’re the new guy?” 

Hunk nodded, ability to speak having taken a vacation. Keith’s head tilted to the side, eyes darting down and then back up as he took Hunk in, then nodded. 

“Welcome to the club, big man.” 

Hunk didn’t watch him walk away. 

He absolutely watched he walked away, eyes glued to the muscles of his back and, much to his own private shame, Keith’s ass. 

Shiro coughed around around a laugh and, when Hunk jumped then looked over him guiltily, held up a hand to stop him from speaking. 

“It’s fine. Cute guys are kind of the point of the club.” He shrugged, then with a hint of a smile on his lips, added. “And Keith is nice.” 

“If you like tattle tale high school dropouts with anger issues.” Someone, Hunk was going to guess ‘Lance’, quipped as he stepped into the room. He was tall and slight, wearing jeans, an oversized sweatshirt with ‘Garrison University’ scrawled across the front, and a very sour expression. He had brown skin, dark hair, and wide dark eyes that looked like they were lined with black. 

Shiro’s smile dropped. “Kitchen. Now.” 

Lance sniffed but slunk over behind the bar and, after shooting Hunk a curious look, vanished through the door. Shiro sighed, looking like he was in pain, then followed with a quiet “I’ll be right back and we’ll finish getting you in the system.” tossed over his shoulder. 

Hunk nodded to the empty room the returned to paging through the options on the registers screen, but this time he wasn’t really seeing anything. 

Okay. So. One of the strippers was super hot (maybe hotter than he’d expected) and, according to Shiro, ‘nice’. Not a big deal. He wasn’t ‘fuck up the job’ hot or anything and Hunk was pretty sure no one was that nice. He’d been in this place a whole hour, he was not messing up already.

He managed to stick with that past the club opening up, through carding what felt like a ton of people, Shiro’s occasional indication that he should watch certain customers who’d had too much to drink, and a loud bachlorette party with customers who thought ‘don’t touch the dancers’ meant ‘do touch the floor staff’. He managed to escape after saving a red-faced waitress from them and was about to head back to the door to switch with Haxus when the DJ announced the next act. 

He’d watched a few of the dancers when he’d been inside and he was pretty impressed. He hadn’t known what to expect really, but he’d envisioned sleazy pole humping, but some of the dancers had proven to be…well, impressive. Flexible, strong, alluring; Hunk wasn’t knowledgeable when it came to critiquing dancing, let alone the kind that involved tear away pants and shirts with popped buttons, but it looked good to him.  

He was not above admitting he started walking slower and turned an eye towards the stage when he heard Keith’s name. When the stage lights came up to reveal the other man, hair still up in those small pigtails and now adorned with red bows, in a white button down, partially unknotted red tie, white knee high socks, and a red plaid pleated skirt, (much to the delight of the roaring crowd.) Hunk thought, just for an moment, that maybe some people were ‘Fuck up the job’ hot.