[Gift] Biblically Accurate First Nightclub

“Father Haruspex?” 

The blue-haired Pride doll walking in front of him stopped and turned around. Apostle had no idea how the priest could see with those cloth coverings over his eyes; Apostle had enough trouble deciphering details through the Cloudy Ophanim circling his head.

Maybe he just has better eyesight in general? 

… 

Not important. 

“I’d like to go on a longer walk. It’s a beautiful night…” 

Haruspex pulled his phone from his robes and checked the time, but Apostle interrupted - did it count as interrupting when the other hadn’t even opened their mouth yet? 

“Mercy told me you had plans tonight, so you don’t have to accompany me.” Apostle didn’t realize how much he dreaded a refusal until he saw Haruspex’s raised eyebrow. “I’ll stay in busier areas, and I have this for emergencies.” The Cherubun tapped his hip where the small phone Oleander had given him was tucked. “I just want to be outside a little longer…” Apostle felt like a kit again, begging Melangel for a treat alongside the rest. 

Haruspex smiled then, soft and serene. “Of course, Apostle. Who am I to keep you captive? Please be careful, though, and come back to the Church to sleep.” 

Apostle smiled back, happy but hesitant. “Yes Father, thank you.” 

Haruspex nodded and continued on their way back to the Church. Apostle turned down a different street, following nothing but his whim. 

~

It wasn’t long before Apostle came to a stop, his curiosity beseeching him to observe a novel scene. 

The building’s door was open, yet guarded by a large doll. Flashing lights and energetic music spilled out around their body, mixing with the idle chatter of the Succubuns smoking and laughing outside. 

Apostle found himself tipping his head questioningly before realizing he was staring. Not wanting to make anybun feel uncomfortable, he was just turning to leave when - 

“Never been to a nightclub before?” 

Apostle made a choked squeaking sound, all ten of his wings flaring as he whirled around. The Succubun behind him - the one who had spoken, presumably - towered over him, white bangs framing his face while black hair flowed down his back. His large, pronged horns matched the deep red of his eyes, which sparkled with amusement as he held his hands up in a surrendering gesture.

“Oh, sorry, you startled me…” Apostle shook his head to clear it, putting effort into calming his heart and smoothing his wings back down. “No, I’ve never been inside… A ‘nightclub’. What’s it for?” 

“I’ll show you.” The other bun looped his arm around Apostle’s shoulders, phasing through his halo. “Name’s Crimson, by the way.” He didn’t wait for a response or explain further, instead leading Apostle towards the bun guarding the door. This Crimson greeted the guard as if they were friends and entered like he was entering his own home. 

The atmosphere seemed to hit Apostle like a physical wall, the energy difference between here and the street nearly palpable. He was very quickly overwhelmed which Crimson seemed to sense, calling out a “Give us some space, Cherubun coming through-” He maneuvered smoothly through the crowd, leading Apostle towards a long counter. A bar, he realized; Oleander had taken him to eat at a ‘pub’ before, which had a bar like this where Succubuns would sit to be served alcohol. Well, at the very least, I wasn’t lying to Father Haruspex when I told him I would stay where it was busy…

Crimson pulled a stool out from where it was tucked beneath the bar, moving Apostle towards it in a clear invitation to sit. Crimson didn’t find himself a stool, instead seeming content to lazily lean against the bar as he looked over at Apostle. The taller bun waited until Apostle was settled before speaking again. 

“First one’s on me. Whaddya like to drink?” 

“I… Cherubuns can’t have alcohol.” 

“Shit, that’s right…” Crimson seemed to look him up and down slowly before waving the bartender over. “Clawdka for me, and a Peach Hellini… ‘Mocktail’, or whatever.” He looked back at Apostle as the bartender turned to prepare their drinks. “So, what did you say your name was?” 

Crimson hadn’t asked. “Apostle.” And then, the question that had been on his mind since he saw the other’s - well, crimson - horns; “What kind of Succubun are you?”

“What kind?” Crimson raised an eyebrow in question before realizing where Apostle was looking. “Oh. ‘Envy’, supposedly. We're still pretty rare compared to the rest of ‘em.” Crimson dropped a handful of carats into the bartender's hand as they placed two drinks between them. The drink that Crimson pushed Apostle’s way was a delicate orange colour with slices of fruit at the bottom of the glass. Peaches, I suppose. The drink that Crimson had ordered for himself looked a lot less appetizing, a clear liquid that smelled like the chemicals they used to polish the Church pews. “What about you?” 

“Hmm?” Apostle paused with his drink halfway to his mouth. “What do you mean?” 

“I don't know much about Cherubuns, but your halo looks pretty fancy, and you’ve got more wings than I’ve ever seen on a bun. That’s gotta mean you’re special, no?” 

“Ah… No… I’m nothing special…” 

“Hmm.” Crimson steamrolled through, not seeming to notice Apostle’s hesitation. “How’s the drink?” 

“Ah-” Apostle took his first sip, Crimson’s smirk causing his face to heat. His eyes widened slightly as the taste hit his tongue, and his cottontail wiggled. “It’s good!” 

“Mmhmm, figured you’d like it.” 

Apostle recalled the way Crimson had looked him up and down earlier and wondered idly what about his appearance had betrayed that he liked sweet flavours. 

As Crimson turned to the bartender to ask what they’d used to make Apostle’s drink, the Cherubun took the chance to finally take a look around the nightclub. There were dolls and buns alike, dancing alone, in pairs, or in groups of all sizes; the latter were on a smaller, raised stage to avoid a stray heel or hoof causing any injuries. Apostle’s eyes caught on a couple kissing passionately against a wall, before one pulled away and grabbed the other’s hand, leading them… somewhere. 

“Do you want to dance when you’re done your drink?” 

Crimson’s voice startled Apostle out of his observations. He looked back over at the Envy to realize that Crimson had finished his Clawdka and ordered another, while Apostle had still barely touched his drink.

“Oh, sorry, I’m taking too long - ” 

“Damn, angel, calm down. What do they do to you guys up there?” Crimson’s teasing expression fell when he saw the way Apostle stiffened. “Just loosen up, alright? You don’t have to worry about anything with me here.” 

Crimson wasn’t the first bun to point out how tense Apostle seemed all the time… but the fact that not a single Cherubun had ever said anything about his over-use of apologies was telling in its own way.

“I’d like to dance.” Apostle answered Crimson’s not rhetorical question. “After I finish my - what did you call it?” 

“A Peach Hellini, but with some fruit soda water instead of champagne. Glad you like it.” 

Apostle didn’t know what champagne was - of course he didn’t - but he trusted that the bartender knew what they were doing and had made him something as accurate as they could to the drink they were mimicking. 

A bun came up to greet Crimson. How many people here does he know? Apostle smiled politely as he was introduced, but otherwise took the chance to look around again, sipping his drink as the conversation beside him slipped into the background. Apostle hadn’t realized he’d finished his drink until he held the empty glass to his lips, sheepishly placing it on the bartop for the bartender to take away. 

Crimson turned to him as the other bun took their leave. “Ready?” He held out his hand for Apostle to take, helping him off the stool and leading him onto the dance floor.

Apostle immediately felt a little claustrophobic amongst the crowd of dolls; he pulled his wings in close, and his Clouds began to roil. It must’ve been more obvious than Apostle intended, because Crimson pulled him close. His arms were firm with muscle, as well as his stomach where one of Apostle’s hands had landed as he steadied himself.

“Ah, sorry - “ 

“Relax, little Cherubun,” Crimson murmured, gently stopping Apostle from pulling his hand away. “Just let the music take you; close your eyes if you need to.” 

Apostle looked up at Crimson in silence for a moment before deciding to trust him, letting his eyes fall closed. 

… 

With his eyes closed, it was easy for Apostle to let the music permeate his very bones. What used to feel cacophonous now guided his steps, his heartbeat. Crimson moved his hands to Apostle’s hips, keeping him close. The sharp scent of the Clawdka lingering on Crimson’s breath was muted by the spiced woodfire cologne he wore that Apostle was only just noticing. 

Apostle had never danced like this. It was chaotic. Scandalous. So different than the slow, modest dances of the Meadows. 

It felt free, Apostle realized, exhilarated. 

He couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out; nor did he feel like he had to. Encouraged further by Crimson’s low, rumbling chuckle, Apostle opened his eyes and smiled up at the Envy, his first real smile of the night. 

Crimson grinned back, looking genuinely pleased that Apostle was enjoying himself. He leaned down, voice soft. “Apostle?” 

It was the first time Crimson had called him by his actual name. “Yes?” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

… 

What?

… 

“Yes.” 

And he did, right there on the dance floor. Apostle heard some teasing cheers and whistles but did his best to ignore them, focusing on the feeling of Crimson’s mouth on his - ah, he has fangs -

Crimson pulled back, chuckling again at Apostle’s soft sound of surprise at the nip he'd given him. The taller man looked around, raising his middle finger to the few pairs of eyes lingering on them before looking back down at Apostle. “Let’s go somewhere a bit more private, yeah?”

Apostle nodded, face burning with a blush as he used the wings at his temples to avoid eye contact with smirking strangers. “Yes please.” 

Crimson grabbed his hand and led him once again, but…

“Have we broken a rule?” 

The Envy stopped and looked at him in confusion. “What?” 

“Earlier, I saw a couple kissing, and then one dragged the other away just as you are now, with me… I thought we were just getting away from the other dancers, but you seem to want to leave…? Is kissing not allowed in these nightclubs?” 

Crimson stared at Apostle long enough for him to start thinking he’d fallen into some sort of Cherubun-only dialect, then laughed. “Oh, angel. ‘Go somewhere private’ is usually code for ‘let’s go fuck’.” 

“...” Apostle blinked. And blinked. And blinked again. “I see... I suppose I should’ve guessed, considering how Father Oleander talks…”

“So, do you?” 

… 

“Where…?” 

Crimson raised an eyebrow. “Well, I was going to get us a car to my place, but you seem unsure.” 

“Ah - not unsure, but…” Apostle thought back to his earlier promise to Father Haruspex. “Perhaps you escort a lonely Cherubun back to the Church, and to thank you for your help he invites you inside…” Was this ‘flirting’? Apostle felt so awkward. “Father Oleander wouldn’t mind.” 

“I see.” Crimson grinned again, showing off those gleaming fangs of his. “Alright, angel.” He held his arm out for Apostle to take. “Let’s get this lonely Cherubun back home and we’ll see about my reward, hmm?” Apostle nodded and took Crimson’s arm, leaving with the Succubun to make their way back towards the Church.

This was absolutely not where Apostle thought his night would end; definitely not what he was expecting when he had set out to continue his walk. Though, with nightclubs like this being popular enough in Burrowgatory to have their own ‘code’, he supposed this wouldn’t be the last time something like this happened.

Apostle decided he was quite looking forward to it.