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1. Maddie
Maddie wasn’t sure how to feel about Evan crashing on her air mattress. On the one hand, she owed him massively for letting her stay with him when she first came to LA, and she totally understood that his need to get out of Abby’s place greatly outstripped his ability to apartment-hunt. Especially given that Evan was clearly looking for a home, rather than just a place to crash, like she suspected he’d done before.
On the other, her brother was a slob. She thought he’d gotten his act together after breaking into his place, but more and more, Maddie realized that Evan was so neat there because he still felt like a guest, even after months of living there alone.
That was another mixed feeling-- Abby had clearly pushed her brother to mature in ways Maddie was still surprised by, but how she ended-- or didn’t end-- things put a sour taste in her mouth.
Still, none of this changed Maddie’s current problem, which was that there was a ton of Evan’s laundry, and no Evan to wash it. She had no idea where he was. He’d claimed work as he passed her in the hallway, but given that Chimney was coming over for buff-Friday, so he was off-shit, and it’s 8pm on a weekend, Maddie had her doubts. She suspected that Buck had reverted to his old ways, given how many nights he’d been out late recently. She wished he’d just come out and tell her. It’s not like she doesn’t know about Evan; she had a depressing amount of first-hand knowledge.
She sighed with resignation before kneeling down to sort the pile in her living room. “One load.” She declared to her coffee table. “I place one load of laundry into the washer, and put the rest in the closet, which is not enabling him, but repaying him for always making me breakfast.” Her justifications sounded weak, even to her furniture.
Jeans, briefs, t-shirt, t-shirt, whites. Maddie set to her task, allowing the mundane rhythm to sweep her away, until she came across something unusual: sparkly gold briefs. Apparently, Evan went for someone a bit flashier than usual. Then she found more, all made of lycra and in a distressing variety of designs. There were camouflage, construction workers, an endless variety of sparkles, and most distressingly, a pair that were sexy fireman-themed. Overcome with a desire to slice her skull open and pour in bleach, Maddie shoved them into her closet and tossed his permanent press clothes in the washer before gulping wine straight from the bottle.
“Whoa, there. I know wine’s good and all but can I interest you in this new thing called a glass?” Chim said as he placed the Chinese food on her counter.
She clutched the bottle to her chest. “No, you cannot. I was doing a quick load of laundry for Evan-- shut up, he always does breakfast” Maddie warned Chimney as he opened his mouth “And I found things. Horrible things. A large collection of men’s underwear that is certainly not his.” She took another gulp, this time putting the bottle down.
Chim calmly sorted through the food, making a plate with all her favorites and handing it over. “And what, you think he’s a serial killer and those are his trophies?”
She glared at him around a forkful of shrimp fried rice with Howie’s homemade hot mustard. “No, I think he’s gone from whore to pervy whore, and if he’s gone to pervy whore, there will be nothing stopping him from fucking on my couch.”
“Wait,” mumbled Chimney around his kung pao chicken. “Buck’s gay? Since when?”
Maddie threw a pillow at him. Mental trauma or not, nothing stopped her from fighting for Evan to be who he was, even if who he was was easy. “He’s not, he’s bisexual, and he has been since high school at the latest.”
“Seriously, are you sure?” Chim asked.
“Look, I learned Evan was into boys when I walked in on him blowing Jason Lee after school in his sophomore year.” She retorted. “I learned he was a slut when I walked in on him going down on Melanie Whitmore the next day. Now, do you want to talk about Evan’s sex life, or do you want to eat egg rolls?”
--
Six hours later, Evan slunk in, clearly trying not to wake her. A lost cause, given that Maddie was waiting on the couch for him.
“Hey, Evan. Long night?” Maddie asked with ice in her voice.
“Yeah, it was. What are you still doing up?” Evan looked around in confusion. “Aren’t we a little old for this?”
“Alas, no.” Maddie replied. “I was doing some laundry, and I found a large amount of unusual underwear. Can you explain that?”
Panic took over his face. “You didn’t wash them, did you?”
“No, I did not wash your creepy sex trophies.” Maddie said, disgust filling her voice.
“Thank god. That shit’s lycra, you gotta hand wash it.” Evan dropped onto the couch next to her. “And what do you mean ‘sex trophies’? They’re for work.”
Disbelieving, Maddie asked “Firefighting requires sparkly underwear?”
Evan looked at her with a sigh. “Yes, Maddie, we have to wear tight gaudy briefs to fight fire. No they’re not for the LAFD. I picked up a second job dancing at a club called the Golden Pantheon, which, incidentally, is why I’m moving out next week.”
Maddie wished she had more wine. “I liked it better when I thought they were sex trophies. It scarred me less.”
---
2. Chimney
There were things no one in the LAFD liked doing, but understand that they needed to be done. Inventory. Paperwork. Fire drills. But the worst of the worst was building inspections. The 118 was drafted to help the backlog and Chimney was in hell. In the last 7 hours, he’d gone through office buildings, strip malls, and restaurants that violated building codes in an increasingly impressive manner, but this, this promised to be the absolute worst of all. He banged his head onto the steering wheel before letting out a groan. With the air of a man about to be shot, Chimney slid out of his car, grabbed his paperwork, and set forth into his last inspection: a gentleman’s establishment entitled The Golden Pantheon.
One hour later, Chimney was shocked by the state of this building. Sure, it was sleazy, and every surface was coated with glitter and what Chim had firmly decided was lube, but there was not a single violation. He finished up is report, and went to the front office.
There was a man there, sorting through files as he mumbled to himself about someone moving his accounts payable pile. After a few moments, Chimney knocked on the open door, causing him to jump.
“Sorry, man. I’m Chimney Han, I did the building inspection. You the manager?”
The sandy-haired man sighed and held out his hand for Chim to shake.. “Nicky Roan. Owner, manager, scheduler, I do everything but dance, and that’s a recent move. Let me tell you, life was easier when I just had to shake my ass on stage. Inspection done?”
Chim dropped his hand and passed over the report. “All good, I just need a signature. I gotta say, I’ve never seen a building like this before.”
Nicky paused and looked up at him. “That sounds expensive.”
“Other way around, actually.” Chimney replied. “Initial on the second page. I’ve been a firefighter for 15 years, and the only time a building is this within code is when it’s brand new. Good job.”
With a final flourish, Nicky gave Chimney his report back. “That’s be Achilles. Stage name” he said to Chim’s startled look. “I don’t let people use real ones on site, too easy for someone to learn it and start harassing them. Anyway, Achilles, starts on about some fire hazards or other. Says repairs are less expensive than a fire and a wrongful death suit. And my insurance covers maintenance to preexisting violations, so the work got done for pretty much nothing.”
“He sounds like a good kid.” Chim said absently.
“Oh, he’s a sweetie. Heart of gold, for sure. Smart too, I think he’s in college, some kind of civil engineering based on his encyclopedic knowledge of LA building codes.” Nicky rambled, before fixating on something behind Chimney. “Hang on, there he is. Achilles. Hey, Achilles! You’re getting something extra in your check this week, you saved me a bundle in fines.”
An oddly familiar voice floats down the hallway and into the room. “That’s not necessary, really, Nicky. I was just doing my-- Chimney?”
In sheer disbelief, Chim turns to see Buck, in an unzipped hoodie with no shirt underneath and a pair of jeans, a duffel slung over his shoulder. “Buck. What are you doing here?”
“Picking up my check. You here for the building inspection?” Buck queried on his way over to a file cabinet labeled ‘Payroll’.
Nicky glanced between them. “You two know each other?” He asked suspiciously, hand twitching towards a bat in the corner.
“Yeah, we work together. And he’s dating my sister. Which is why you extra can’t give me a bonus, it might look like a bribe for a perfect inspection.” Buck turned and pointed at his boss, an uncharacteristically serious look on his face.
Nicky visibly relaxed, and Chimney wondered how many jealous partners this man had dealt with in his life-- he couldn’t be over 40.
Turning back to Buck, Chim couldn’t seem to stop himself from blurting the question burning through his mind out. “Buck, why do you work here?”
Buck paused, halfway out the door, before leveling him with a glare. “Rent is expensive, we get paid shit, and I didn’t have a grandfather die and leave me 150 shares in Samsung.
---
3. Eddie
Eddie isn’t sure when he lost his gift for this, but he sure as hell would like it back. Being a soldier gave him discipline, integrity, drive, but the skill he had honestly honed the most was getting out of visiting strip clubs. All his army boys loved to hit them up for bachelor parties, birthdays, breakups, furloughs, and Tuesdays. Eddie, on the other hand, hated them. Not that he had anything against the women who earned a living off his meathead friends, he just wasn’t interested in what they had on offer.
Even if he had been into women, Eddie didn’t get the appeal. The girls spinning on poles or writhing in laps might have been saying “sex me up” with their bodies, but their faces always looked like they were composing a grocery list. Peanut butter, milk, shake ass, apples, bite lip seductively, there’s a sale on fish so I should stock up . Once, when Jakey had bought him a private dance for a welcome home, he and Kandi (real name Eliza) had chatted about tamale fillings for 20 minutes, then traded numbers. They still texted about recipes, especially now that Eliza’s graduated culinary school.
So when Jakey, Sam, and Zeke showed up in LA to “give him the proper single boy birthday he deserved”, Eddie had immediately tried to deflect the conversation from strippers in any capacity. Unfortunately, though, his friendship with the mature adults of the 118 meant he hadn’t needed to talk his way out of seeing boobs in quite some time, and his formerly silver tongue had turned to rust.
So here he was, bundled into the back seat of Jakey’s rental SUV, off to god knows where so see god knows what performed by god knows who. The only thing he was told was that he was in for “a hell of a show”.
“All right, boys. Get your singles out and smiles ready. Except you, Diaz. This is your birthday, so your fun’s on us. And stop pouting, we put quite a bit of work into finding the perfect place.” Sam informs him from the front seat.
With a resigned sigh, Eddie slunk out of the car . . . only to be greeted by a lurid neon sign declaring this venue to be The Golden Pantheon. Photos of half-naked men grinned out at him, all built and glistening, filling Eddie with the bizarre combination of lust and fear.
“Why did you-, why are we-, this is a terrible joke.” He spat out, unable to comprehend the full meaning of his friends bringing him to a male strip club. A gay one, as well, given the lack of horny moms and plethora of sleazy old men milling around them.
A hand clapped him around his neck, forcing him to look Zeke in the eye. “Diaz, we’ve known since we bought you a lap dance and you got cooking tips. You’re gay. Whatever.”
“Seriously, man,” Jakey chimed in from his other side, “We didn’t ask because we don’t care. Far as I’m concerned, you being into dick just means more chicks for us.”
They began to muscle him into the club, paying the cover, and dragging him onto the floor while Sam ran his mouth about “extrapolating his type based on weird shower looks” and “surveying the queer community for the best clubs”. Figures Sam would have turned finding a strip club into a literal science.
“So what’re you into?” Jakey shouted into his ear, Eddie straining to hear above the music. “We got twinks, beefcakes, tattoos, that guy in a seriously bad sailor outfit. Please don’t say him, we will be obligated to mock you.”
Eddie started to thank the boys, he appreciated the gesture, but seriously, a beer and some pool would be just fine, only to be cut off by a cheesy voice announcing that the main stage would know be graced by Achilles. On reflex, Eddie flicked his eyes to the stage, noting that Achilles was a seriously built guy with blond hair, a very defined back, and a perfectly round ass that filled out his gold lamé shorts so well Eddie could practically see the seams bulging.
Wait a minute.
Eddie knew that ass.
“Jesus Christ” He murmered, gaze transfixed at Evan Fucking Buckley working the stage with a grin that Eddie found depressingly familiar. This was not going to help the secret crush one bit.
Sadly for his dignity, it appeared that his friends had cottoned on to his interest. “Well, well, well. Looks like Diaz likes them blond, blue-eyed, and baby-faced. Pay up!” Sam called as his friends dragged him towards the stage. He found himself shoved into a seat, forced to watch the body that had been haunting his showers for a year flex and gyrate. Even worse, Buck noticed him. His grin got even bigger, ocean eyes alive with recognition. Sam, Jakey, and Zeke all hollered and threw singles at Buck, ensuring he was aware Eddie was there to see naked men.
Finally, the song ended, but, instead of leaving the way they came, Buck dropped to the floor and walked over to Eddie, who was numbly drinking a whiskey ordered by someone, he didn’t know who. “Hey, man, fancy seeing you here.”
Eddie looked up at Buck in disbelief. How could he be acting like this was normal? “Yeah, you could say that.”
“Yeah, I had no idea you were out to anyone. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me. However, your friends did pay for a lap dance, so…” Buck shot him a cheeky grin, and Eddie suddenly found himself with a lap full of nearly naked Evan Buckley.
Eddie desperately attempted to ignore this, but given that all his blood was rushing south, all he came up with was “What do you mean, you didn’t know I was out? You knew I’m . . .” Eddie trailed off, still unable to say it to someone he knew.
“Gay? Uh, I’ve known since we met. You practically radiate ‘closed gay guy’” Buck informed him, punctuating his sentences with body rolls that forced all Eddie’s attention on his glistening, well-defined abs. “Unlike my brazenly bisexual self.”
Finding his legs bracketed by Buck’s thick thighs, Eddie is amazed he can still breathe, let alone talk. “Hate to burst your bubble, brother, but no one knows you’re bi.”
Buck stopped and slumped down onto Eddie’s lap, a merciful blessing and horrible curse in one move. “If you didn’t figure out I’m queer after talking with me about my prom date Kevin, that’s not me being closted, that’s your heteronormative blindfold. Now, your friends, are they army buddies?” With that, Buck flipped over, so now his flawless ass was grinding into Eddie’s extremely hard dick.
“Yeah, they brought me out for my birthday. Seriously, what are you doing here?” The last part came out as a yelp, but Eddie is honestly taking it as a victory that he didn’t straight-up come.
Buck shot him a disbelieving look. “Dude, you know how much LA rent is and how little we make. What do you think I’m doing, waiting to try out for the ballet?” He gave one last twitch that about made Eddie’s eyes roll back into his head before popping off his lap. “I’m off at one, let me know if you’re still up and we’ll grab a beer. Happy birthday.” Buck called as he walked over to a paunchy-looking man in his 50s and began to give him the same show Eddie just got.
Zeke, Jakey, and Sam dropped onto the couch where Eddie was staring blankly into the void. Zeke waved a hand in front of Eddie’s face. “You in there, man?”
“Thats, uh, my friend Buck. We work together.” Eddie mumbled into his long-forgotten whiskey glass, having drained it in one go. “Apparently, he has a side hustle.”
---
4. Bobby
The glitter had been unnoticeable at first, just little flecks here and there. However, over the last few days, the station had seen an explosion of the stuff so severe, people were wondering if they’d been glitter-bombed. Now, on a slow day, Bobby was carefully inspecting the station, looking for higher concentrations of May had dubbed “craft herpes”.
Athena hadn’t been amused, but she couldn’t deny the accuracy of the name.
In time, he found himself at the lockers, where he noticed Bucks’ things seemed to be coated in the substance, though there was a bit on Eddie’s as well. Even the inside of Buck’s bunker gear was covered in it. Most entertaining, though, was the feather boa escaping from his bag.
Buck came in, and Bobby held up the boa wordlessly.
“Uh, sir, you see, the thing is.” Buck’s words tumbled out of his mouth in one go, his face slowly turning scarlet.
Bobby merely raised an eyebrow. “To cope with the high cost of living in Los Angeles, you’re picking up shifts as a male stripper. Don’t let in interfere with your job, never wear LAFD symbols while stripping, and scrub the glitter off before you suit up. It’s starting to spread.”
---
5. Athena and Hen
Athena and Hen both loved Suzanne. She was a loyal friend, fun to drink with, and represented Athena in her divorce for a discounted rate. Still, she had the occasional tacky idea, and this party seemed to be the embodiment of it.
“I get being happy to get out of marriage.” Hen whispered in Athena’s ear. “I respect the desire to celebrate her new-found singledom. But who throws a ‘yay, I’m divorced’ party with margaritas and pin the horns on my ex-husband.”
“Suzanne Williams, that’s who.” Athena retorted. “Now, hush up and drink your margarita. You made me the DD, so you’d better get drunk. Lord knows one of us should be.”
Hen sighed and patted her arm. “Honey, we took a Lyft. You can get plastered if you want. When I asked you to be the sober friend, I did not expect to walk into a house decorated with dildos. Consider yourself absolved.”
Athena shook her head. “If we get to DEFCON 1, I will drink tequila straight from the bottle. Until then, I will remain as sober as a pastor’s wife.”
Hen looked at her doubtfully. “Didn’t your pastor’s wife once interrupt a service by drunkenly puking on the altar?”
“I never liked Shelly.” Athena sniffed.
Suddenly, a knock was heard at the door. Hen and Athena both turned towards it, seeing what looked like a couple of cops come in.
Hen sighed. “There was nothing here to warrant a visit from the cops, was there.”
“Nope.” replied Athena tersely, watching the two men’s back’s carefully.
“So those are strippers.”
“Yep.”
Hen downed her margarita.
As she began walking to the kitchen for a second, (Okay, it was her fourth, but who cared? She didn’t drive and she was off tomorrow.) she studied them. Boys weren’t her thing, but she supposed these two, one black with a shaved head, the other blond, were alright. Both were built, muscles well defined, and they certainly seemed to get into their jobs, gyrating on Suzanne, a couple friends, and each other. She suspected the brother would catch Athena’s eye more, he had a suaveness her friend was drawn too. The other had an energy that reminded her of a golden retriever, like Buck.
Come to think, he also had tattoos similar to Buck.
And a birthmark over his eye.
Hen finished her drunken math two seconds too late, and was thus forced to see her colleague dancing in nothing but a bedazzled thong. She finished her second, okay, fine, fourth, margarita and grabbed one more and a bottle. She made her way over to Athena as best she could while hammered and not looking at the room.
Athena appeared to be transfixed by the nightmare in front of her. “Please, Hen, tell me that is not my fiance’s psuedo-son grinding on one of my oldest friends.”
“I can’t do that.” Hen informed her solemnly. “But I did grab you a bottle of tequila.”
Hen had never seen someone chug tequila before, and she honestly hoped she never would again.
Two hours later, both of them had reached the point of being too drunk to order a ride-share, leaving them stranded in Suzanne’s dildo-decked nightmare until Buck and Jason (a literature student at UCLA) could pour them into a cab, as no one else could carry them up the stairs to Suzanne’s driveway.
“Wait until I tell Bobby about this.” Athena slurred. “He’ll never believe me.”
“I should start a pool.” Hen mumbled from Jason’s arms. “Make more cash than I did from you and Booby.”
Buck chuckled. “Sorry, Hen, I doubt that will work. Everyone else knows.”
Hen growled at him as he gave the cabbie Athena’s address.
“And Athena, I hate to burst your bubble, but Bobby already knows.” he murmured as he placed her in the cab, carefully ensuring she didn’t hit her head on the doorframe.
She looked up at him, eyes burning with a mystery that had to be solved. “But why? You seemed so serious about firing fights. Why throw is away for sparkly panties?”
“Because sparkly panties pays seriously well.” He told her with a twinkle in his eye. “I already called Bobby, he’s waiting for you with water and advil. Good night.” He shut the door and waved, but Athena and Hen had already passed out.
--
The next morning, Athena stumbled into her kitchen, nearly tripping over Hen, who had sprawled out on the floor. She drained the coffee Bobby handed to her, and then reached out for a refill. “How you doing, Hen? Still alive?”
“Uugh” rose up from the floor. “I got so drunk I thought Buck was one of Suzanne’s strippers.”
Athena shuddered and resisted the urge to go for her wine collections. “Unfortunately, I did not drink enough to forget he actually was one. I swear, I will personally campaign to raise the salary of firefighters just to make sure I don’t ever see that again.”
---
And One Time The Strippers Learned About Buck’s Day Job.
Honestly, Buck was pretty okay with everyone he loved finding out about his side job. Sure, there were a lot of jokes made, but not keeping the secret was nice. But sometimes, he wished he didn’t have to do it. Not that there was anything wrong with stripping, but he’d much rather be in a happy relationship with a rocket scientist than convincing an old man Buck would totally be into him for reasons other than money. As Buck worked through his routine, he realized he needed to stop by the grocery store after work. Eggs, protein powder, cereal for Christopher, I’m still good for bread .
Suddenly, shouting pulled him out of his head. Glancing behind him, he saw Michaelangelo get yanked off the stage by some linebacker-looking dude. Probably his ex, Micky had mentioned dumping his boyfriend over his “toxically masculine jealousy”, AKA being unable to handle his SO working as a stripper. Not that Buck had much room to judge, given how often Eddie liked to show up.
A shatter grabbed Buck’s attention. Micky was lying in a mess of glass shards, having been shoved through a glass table. Springing up, he ran over, ignoring the asshole customer who was more concerned with a lap dance than someone’s life.
Luckily, the bouncers had already restrained Micky’s ex, so Buck went straight to work. Immediately, he saw a shard of glass sliced his femoral artery. Turning up to the surprised patrons, he barked out. “It’s okay, I’m a firefighter and an EMT. You, give me your belt. You, call 911, tell them there’s a man with multiple lacerations, including his femoral.”
When they didn’t move, Buck realized he was wearing the sexy fireman costume and sighed. “I’m serious, dammit. This is just my side gig, I work at the 118. Now, move!”
Thankfully, they listened this time, and Buck was able to tourniquet Micky’s leg before he bled out. With some help from Jason and Adonis, they managed to staunch all the major cuts while they waited for the ambulance.
It wasn’t long before voices came from the front, oddly familiar, until the bartender Ganymede shouted out “Hey, Achilles. Patrocles is here!”
Sure enough, when Buck looked up, there was Eddie, along with the rest of the 118. Sighing with relief at not needing to explain that yes, he was a real EMT, he passed off care to Hen and Chim. Quickly, Micky’s wounds were packed and he was ready to transport, but Eddie seemed to be lingering.
Hen smacked him on the arm. “Just kiss him, Patrocles. We all know.”
With a shrug, Eddie pulled Buck into a deep, filthy kiss that would have been inappropriate anywhere else. Here, it was just a little seedy. “Call me when you get home, alright?”
Buck pushed him away. “Of course. Now, hurry up before they leave you here and Nicky conscripts you.” Buck watched Eddie jog to catch up to the others with a smile on his face. He turned and found himself face to face with Jason and Adonis.
“Dude, why?” asked Adonis.
“Because he’s my boyfriend and he’s gorgeous.” retorted Buck. “And no, you can’t have him.”
Jason snorted. “Not that. Why are you still a firefighter? I’ve seen what you make. You dance full time, I guarantee you’d make twice as much as you do know.
Buck grinned at them, a wry smile. “Because I love it. It’s in my blood, it’s who I am. I’m not giving up the LAFD for anything. Firefighting is built into my DNA. This just helps pay the rent.”