Chapter Text
It was a regular bar, with a regular bouncer standing outside, big, buffed and seemingly bored, and regular customers. From the outside, it didn’t seem like anything special. A big sign with a neon and the name of the bar in a simple font embellished with a martini glass and an olive on a toothpick, flashing with purple, green and red did attract attention but wasn’t anything special enough to attract the looking for adventures New Yorkers. Inside was inviting and warm, with round mahogany tables and comfortable chairs and a small lamp in the middle of every table. There were a bar and a stage with silver, glittery curtains, promising entertainment and a good time. It was a bar like many in New York. But late evenings, magic happened inside.
Steve’s knee was bouncing in nervous excitement, not following the rhythm of the music seeping in the background, just pure nervousness dictating the rhythm. He had to be careful to not bash his leg on the underside of the table and cause the drinks to spill all over the red cloth. It wasn’t his first visit to the bar. In fact, since the first time he stepped into The Olive, as regulars used to call it, he became a steady customer. A steady customer with a very good reason to keep coming back. A very good, embarrassing reason.
“Will you calm down?” Sam hissed, sitting at the other end of the table. The grip Steve had on an empty glass of Long Island Ice Tea was alarmingly tight and Sam began to worry that some accident involving shredded glass and blood might happen soon.
“Can’t help it,” Steve answered miserably, looking longingly at his wristwatch. Still, ten minutes remained. Why couldn’t time go faster?
“Pathetic,” Sam remarked, shaking his head at his friend’s behavior. He knew Steve since forever and knew that the blond was usually better in control of his emotions. Just this place had such weird effect on him.
“Um, excuse me!” Steve called, stopping the walking past by waitress.
“Yes?”
“Is — is she—”
The girl eyed Steve, nicely contoured lips curling into a smile. “Oh, honey, she is here. She is just getting ready for the show.”
That calmed down Steve a little bit. The minutes before the show started were always killing him. “Thanks, Arrow,” he answered, of course knowing the waitress’ name. He knew all names of the employees of the Olive.
“Can I get you, boys, anything else?” Arrow asked, gently taking the empty glass from Steve’s clutches and on putting it on the tray she was caring, a single strand of red hair slipping out of the green hood. Arrow’s thing was fantasy looks. She rocked it in green cape going down to her nicely shaped butt, and a belt with big buckle was hugging her waist, bringing out the feminine shape of the body clad in a green leather suit.
“The same, please,” Steve asked politely.
“And for you, sugar?”
Sam cleared his throat before answering, knocking his fist on the table. “Beer, please,” he said, sounding an octave lower than usual.
Steve raised an eyebrow. He mouthed ‘beer, really?’ with an evilly happy smile and Sam clenched his teeth and gave a signal with his eyes to not push it. Despite being a regular like Steve was, Sam still had problems to order drinks with a straw and a small umbrella.
“Got some masculinity to prove there, pal?” Steve asked happily, just because he sometimes liked to tease his friend. Part of the being best friends deal.
“Steve,” Sam warned.
“He will have the most vibrant and pink cocktail you have on the menu,” Steve changed Sam’s order, smiling gleefully at Arrow, who laughed in a voice deeper than she used to talk earlier.
“Hey,” Arrow turned her blue eyes to Sam, deciding to jump on the torment Sam wagon. “Aren’t you the one working at Mama’s Little Bakery in downtown? The one with pink and frilly curtains in the windows?”
“HA!” Steve laughed, maybe a bit too loud, but the sound got lost in the already getting crowded room, and Sam’s terrified look was just too priceless. Sam was someone Steve liked to call a closet baker, he could make the most amazing cakes, learning his whole life from his mom who was a master baker. It was obvious that one day he would take over the family business and continue to supply New York with delicious, homemade cupcakes and pastries.
“Beer, please,” Sam repeated, his voice getting some squeakiness.
Arrow rolled her eyes and jutted her hip. “You’re straight, I get it,” she replied, walking away, her high heels clanking gently on the wooden floor.
“Damn straight, I am straight,” Sam remarked in a low grumble, his eyes going to the bar area where Arrow was leaning and placing an order. “Straight as an uncooked spaghetti noodle…” he said, his voice losing its anger and getting a softer note that sounded a lot like longing when he watched a person behind the bar. Big, frilly dark hair, dark eye makeup, pink lips. She laughed hearing the order and started to prepare the drink for Steve first, moving smoothly and gracefully, the bright pink fur bolero and giant silver hoops in her ears, not constricting her movements in the slightest. Underneath the fur was a silver top with leopard print on spaghetti straps and knowing her, she had to wear small shorts and boots going way past her knees. Sam couldn’t help but stare.
“You know, Sam, you could just go and talk to her,” Steve advised gently, looking at his friend. “Under all that makeup, there is a regular person inside.”
Sam turned his eyes away from the bartender and looked irritated at his friend.
“Really? You are the one to give me that kind of talk?” Sam asked, raising his eyebrows.
“I am just saying,” Steve said, grinning a bit too broad, knowing that they were heading into a dangerous topic, and leaned closer, minimizing the distance between him and his friend, “the world changed, Sam. Masculinity and femininity are not that far apart anymore. And who would be better to talk about this than a drag queen?”
Did we mention earlier that The Pitted Olive was a drag queen bar?
Sam just frowned deeper and for a moment, Steve sensed the tension in the air. He almost backed away, knowing that it was better to give his friend plenty of time to process, when it was Sam who first loosened up and lowered his shoulders, seemingly accepting what he heard.
“You know what?” Sam started, no hostility in his voice. “I will go talk to Tootsie, if you go talk to your girl.”
Steve blushed, hoping that it wasn’t too obvious in the dim light of the bar. “That’s different,” he said weakly, fidgeting in his seat. It really was different.
“Well, under all that makeup there is a regular person inside,” Sam smiled a bit too obvious when Steve sent him a dry look, “someone once told me that. Can’t remember who. Sounds dumb anyway.”
Steve laughed. Reverse psychology. How cute. The moment ended when Arrow walked over and placed their drinks on the table.
“Here you go, boys,” she said, putting a fresh glass of Long Island Ice Tea in front of Steve and a mug of ale near Sam. Sam gagged a bit in panic, when in the white foam he saw a pink umbrella, standing tall and proud. At the reaction, Arrow smiled and walked away, not before winking at Steve.
“I think that’s a sign,” Steve hummed, sipping his drink with a satisfied smile. Sam tried to be discreet and looked in the bar area, but the girl was already occupied with serving more drinks. The show was almost starting and she had to serve everyone before, not to interrupt her sister.
“Ladies and gentleman, may I have your attention please!” came a voice from the intercom and the lights dimmed slowly, leaving a spotlight on the stage. Steve whipped around to face the stage and finally bashed his knee, but he couldn’t care less about the pain, looking expectantly at the stage.
“Let’s welcome the star of the evening, the sweetest and tastiest cake in town, Miss Red Velvet!”
Everyone started clapping to welcome the performer, but it was nothing in comparison to how rapidly Steve’s heart started beating. Through the silver curtains showed a hand, and pushed the fabric open, letting it drape a bit over herself, and prolonging the moment. When the person walked out and to the middle of the stage accompanied by applause, Steve had to try hard to not stand up and start whistling.
She was stunning. Milky white skin, long dark silky hair flowing in a cascade down her shoulders and ending above a perfectly round rear. Steve knew that majority of the drag queens used pads to give their bodies more feminine shapes, but there was a rumor that Red Velvet wasn’t one of them. She stood in the middle of the stage in a sparkly red gown hugging her hourglass figure and going down all the way to the floor, very probably hiding red heels underneath. A perfectly countered face and perfect dark eye make up showed nearly artistic skills. And those lips! Plump and red as cherries. Steve never saw Red Velvet in any other color than red, which was her trademark sign. She was absolutely gorgeous and Steve had been mesmerized since the first time he saw her on the stage.
“Hello everyone!” Red Velvet greeted the crown, smiling softly and charming. Her blue eyes scanned the crowd, which she could see perfectly thanks to the small lit lamps on every table. “I can see some new faces,” she greeted the newcomers with positive energy, getting an overwhelming cheer in return as she waved and sent kisses. “And—” she continued, her eyes stopping on Steve’s and Sam’s table for two seconds longer than on everyone else, “— some familiar faces.”
Steve almost had a heart attack out of joy. The moment was magical, but before he could truly embrace it, Red Velvet took out the mic from the stand and began walking on the stage.
“I wrote a new song and would love to share it with you all,” she said in her smooth, velvety voice, and Steve felt like melting. The crowd around him started to disappear and blend into the background. It was now only him and Red Velvet.
Red Velvet made some gesture with her hand and piano music started to seep, filling in the room and Steve’s heart. Calming and soothing and sad. Red Velvet closed her eyes and started to sway her beautiful hips to the gentle music.
“This is the night I’ve been dreaming of forever. The mirror takes a look at my face. I’ll never set foot in that rat hole again. But I’ll drive to your place.”
Steve watched and listened, adoring every word, every subtle gesture. The way light fell on her face and long eyelashes cast shadows on pale cheeks. Her voice was smooth and deep, but raspy on the edges, showing some masculinity. It was a beautiful mix.
“This is a habit I’m breaking now forever, I’m weary from trying to shake it, so when I ask if you don’t give me your hand I’ll take it. Right now!”
Red Velvet opened her eyes and reached her hand forward. Steve wanted to take it, to hold it, to kiss it. To be there for her at every moment.
And then it hit him.
There was no her.
Red Velvet was a part of someone else. Someone else Steve didn’t know and probably would never have an occasion to meet. Everything he ever imagined about Red Velvet might not be true.
“It’s funny now when I don’t show up on Monday, they’ll go nuts, and eat their hats, well, what do you think of that?”
Steve bit his lip, his thoughts spiraling deeper and deeper. His dream woman would remain a dream. But… underneath all that makeup was a regular person. Oh, the irony. He had to listen to his own advice after all.
“He says, you’re throwing life away, to move with a girl like me, he’s not blind, he just don’t have a mind to see…”
The song ended on a sad note and Steve was back again, together with the crowd and clapping with everyone else. His mind cooled down and he felt that he could think more rationally, yet when Red Velvet smiled gratefully at the audience, his heart did that weird flip-flop thing he heard about only from the movies.
His heart was telling him one thing, while his mind was telling him something entirely different. It was a struggle to separate the voices and try to tell dreams and reality apart.
But why try to break something that went together hand in hand? He just had to say it. For his own sanity. It was hard, but he had to, to quiet his heart and mind.
“I am going to meet with her, Sam,” Steve said, his eyes not leaving the person on the stage. Time to meet his dream and face the reality. And saying that Sam’s face became one of a pure shock, was an understatement.