Author: Jessie-chan
Pairing: Orlando / OMC
Rating: PG-13
Warning(s): none that I can think of
Summary: On vacation to the city of Piraeas, Orlando experiences Greek nightlife.
Disclaimer: I don't own Orlando (though sometimes I wish I did). However, I do own the OFC...sort of.
Feedback: Please?
Beta: none
Author's Notes: Here's a nice little piece written for the Characters in Bloom April Challenge Destination: Slash. The original character in this story is based off a friend of the same name, who is from Greece. You can take a guess as to what city he's from. ^_^ This is actually going to be an early birthday present for him, so I hope he enjoys it. And I hope you enjoy it as well.
I'm considering continuing this piece, but for now, it stands alone.
Have fun!
One Night in Greece
I first run into him--literally--on the streets of the
port city of Piraeus. I had just walked out the door
of the Nautical Museum of Greece and onto the arguably
dirty and faintly fish-scented street Themistokleus
when I slam into someone and almost fall onto the hard
street. A cry of protest lands on my ears, and a very
heavy book thuds onto my foot.
"Ouch!" I cry, hopping backwards. Lifting my foot from the ground to rub it, I look up at the young man standing in my path. "You COULD watch where you're going," I say irritably.
"I could say the same thing of you," the man mutters, leaning over to pick up the book. I catch a glimpse of the title. Commercial Law. The man snaps the heavy book closed and frowns at me. "Next time, keep your head where it should be." He tosses something at me, then continues on his way, tucking the book underneath his arm.
I catch the object rather clumsily and look at it. It is my wallet.
***
I run into him again later that afternoon, as I am sitting down to a dish of saganaki--which seems to be the Greek version of fondue--at the restaurant Diasimos. He is sitting a few tables away before a plate of what looks like rolled-up leaves. I take a quiet moment to look him up and down.
He is young, probably a little younger than me, but most likely not a teeanger. His long, almost shoulder-length brown-blonde hair--obviously highlighted with dyes--is thick and wavy, and he keeps reaching up to tuck locks of it behind his pierced ears. He is tall, about my height judging from the length of his legs stretched out under the table; and lean, with an admittedly gorgeous facial structure: all cheekbones and dark olive skin. Wire-rimmed glasses hide the color of his eyes. His forehead is creased as he reads from that thick book he dropped on my foot a few hours before, and he eats almost negligently with his right hand as his left hand turns pages.
Since the rest of the restaurant is, for the most part, empty, I clear my throat to get his attention; he looks up, startled, before frowning. "Oh, it's you," he says, not sounding entirely pleased but not sounding mean or hateful, either. Maybe uncaring?
"Sorry for running into you earlier," I say, crossing my legs and twirling a fork between my fingers.
"It's okay," he mumbles, picking up one of those leaf-rolls and biting into it. The leaf reminds me of cabbage. Over-cooked cabbage.
"What are you eating?" I ask curiously, picking up my glass of wine and taking a sip.
"Dolmadakia," he answers. Glancing at me and seeing my confused look, he adds, "Stuffed grape leaves. Care to try one?" He slides the plate in my general direction.
"Does it taste like cabbage?" I ask, rising from my seat, glass in hand.
He gives me his own confused look. "What?"
I shake my head. "Nothing." I gingerly pick up one of the grape leaves and take a careful bite. "Not bad," I admit, finishing the roll off. I gesture to my table. "Would you like some of mine?"
"No thanks. I've had saganaki before. My mother likes to serve it at her little parties."
"I'm Orlando," I introduce after a moment.
"I know." The man smiles at me mischievously. "I knew who you were when we ran into each other on the street. I'm Eurylochus."
"Wasn't he a character in--"
"The Iliad? Yes. Just call me Eury. Eurylochus tends to be a bit of a mouthful for tourists who don't speak Greek."
I nod and sip my wine again. "So you go to school?" I ask, tapping his textbook with a finger.
"The University of Piraeus. I'm studying Industrial Management."
"You are one BRAVE soul."
Eury laughs. "It's actually one of the most common majors at UP. Nothing really fancy. Mostly just business courses and law courses." He pops a leaf in his mouth. "I'd say you're braver than I am."
"What do you mean?" I ask, suddenly curious. I pick up a grape leaf and nibble at it.
"Well, think about it. You've gone into a field where everyone watches you and criticizes your every movement. You can't spit without someone knowing."
"I got into Greece without anyone knowing," I point out.
"I know you're here," he replies, closing his book. Rising from his seat, he tosses a business card onto the table.
"You won't tell anyone I'm here, will you?" I ask, annoyed at the thought of everyone knowing where I've gone.
"Of course not." Eury winks, then turns and leaves, book in hand.
I pick up the business card and look at it. It has the name Theoclydus Ioannides printed in the bottom corner, and at top left was printed a colorful design with the word "Appalooza" emblazoned across it. I check the address--62 Koumoundourou Street--and realize it is only a few blocks from my hotel. I flip the card over and see, handwritten on the back, "Meet me there, 9pm.--Eury."
***
I return to my hotel room a few hours later, several shopping bags in hand. After a thorough shower, I towel off and take out my new outfit: black leather pants and a black sleeveless wifebeater, with a white, long-sleeved button-up to go over it. Combing my hair, I grimace as it curls up, debate the bottle of straightener on the counter in the bathroom, then shake my head and head for the door, wallet in hand.
Loud rock music is blaring out of the doors of the nightclub as I approach. Biting my lip and brushing a curl from my eyes, I head for the door but am stopped by the bouncer.
"Name?" the bouncer asks, clipboard in hand.
"Um..." Reluctant to give my name, I stall for time.
A voice calls down from above, and both the bouncer and I look up to see Eury hanging out a window on the second floor. "Anthony, he's a friend of mine! Let him up!"
Anthony steps aside and, with a wide sweeping gesture, indicates the door. I smile and slip past him, into the noisy club.
The interior is dim, and I find myself squinting through the flashing strobe lights and crowds of people clustered on the dance floor. A live band is onstage towards the back, playing a rock song I've never heard before. I lick my lips and push through the crowd towards the staircase in the corner.
Eury is standing at the top, a cigarette in one hand and a glass in the other. He gives me a seductive grin--though I'm sure that's only my imagination--and meets me halfway down the stairs. "You made it!" he calls over the loud music.
"Of course! I'm not in the habit of standing people up!" I call back.
"You want something to drink? I can get you something real quick!"
"Sure! Doesn't matter what."
Eury leaves my side for a minute, heading over to the bar. I see him talk and laugh with the bartender for a moment, then he comes back with a cocktail in hand. "Here! One of the best drinks served at Appalooza!"
"What is it?" I ask, taking a sip.
"A Zombie. White rum, Creme de Noyeaux, Sweet and Sour mix, Triple Sec, orange juice and Bacardi. Very good."
I nod in agreement, then follow him as he gestures to a table and sits. "Is it always this loud in here?" I ask as the band ends its song to loud applause and cheers below.
"Actually, this is a pretty quiet night. Usually, the bands are the loudest thing on Koumoundourou. Tonight, Appalooza comes in at maybe third. The gay bars down the street are celebrating Gay Pride Week," he adds by way of explanation.
"Why aren't you down there?" I ask.
"Why do you ask? Do you think I should be?" He cocks an eyebrow at me.
Embarrassed, I stammer, "Uh, no, no. I just...was wondering..."
He laughs. "You've got me pegged pretty well, don't you?"
I shrug and look away, down towards the dance floor below, where the band is beginning to play another song.
"You want to get out of here?" Eury calls over the music.
I toss back the rest of my drink and nod. "Sure, why not?"
On the way out the door, Eury leads me by the bar, where he tosses some bills at the bartender. "Thanks for the drinks, Damien!"
"Anytime, Mr. Ioannides!"
When we step outside, I say, "Ioannides?"
"My dad owns Appalooza," he explains. "I try to not let that be known, because people get clingy when they find that out, thinking that I can get them in the club anytime." He glances at me from the corner of his eye. "See? We both have something to hide."
"So, where should we go?" I ask.
"You got a hotel room?" I nod. "Well, let's go there. It's got a TV, and there's not really any place else I would recommend going this late."
***
Eury goes into the washroom upon our arrival in my hotel room, and I kick my shoes off and go to the window to look out as I wait. After a long, quiet moment, Eury enters the room, a serious, thoughtful expression on his face. "What are you looking at?" he asks, approaching me.
I shrug and look down. "The parking lot," I say. "Cars. Lots of cars."
A hand touches my shoulder blade. "What kind of cars?" Eury's husky voice asks.
"Hondas, Toyotas, Mitsubishis," I ramble. I press a fingertip to the window. "There's my car."
"That's interesting," he replies. His hand slides underneath my button-up shirt and brushes against my shoulder blade; the only thing separating his hand from my skin is the black wifebeater I'm wearing.
I take my finger from the window and drop my hand to my side. There's an oily smudge left behind as testament to my attempted nonchalance.
Eury removes his hand from beneath my shirt and places both hands on my shoulders. Grasping the shirt, he slowly slides it off, and it crumples to the floor in a puddle behind me. "So, Orlando," he whispers in my ear, his hot breath dancing against my skin, "how old are you again?"
"Twenty-seven," I reply, feeling slightly dizzy. I press a palm against the cool windowpane and focus on a streetlight in the parking lot below.
"Ah." A warm body presses against me from behind, and two arms hook around my chest. "I'm nineteen."
"Nineteen?" I turn my head to look at Eury. He doesn't look nineteen. He looks about twenty-two.
He nods, starting to work his hands underneath my wifebeater.
The air conditioner below the window suddenly kicks on, startling both of us and blasting me with cold air. I twist away from Eury and move towards the bed. Sitting down, I try to act unaffected and pick up the remote control. "Wonder what's on TV," I say.
Inside, though, I'm squirming. He's only nineteen? That's...WAY too close to eighteen for comfort. There's eight years' difference between us! He's practically a kid!
But apparently, watching television isn't quite what Eury has in mind.
It only takes seconds for me to be on the receiving end of a lap full of Eury and a scorching pair of lips pressed roughly against mine. A muffled noise escapes my throat, and I flail helplessly against the onslaught. When I finally manage to get some leverage, I pull back and glare. "What are you doing?"
"I--I thought--"
"I have a GIRLFRIEND, Eury!" I shove him off me and get up. "Good Lord, what does it take to get a break around here? With all the shit people make me do..."
"Sorry! I'm sorry! I just thought you, um, were gay."
"Well, you thought wrong." I rudely point to the door. Eury gives me a slight pout before slinking out the door and pulling it shut behind him.
I came to Greece for a break. I didn't come to have a fling with a gay man.
I'm not gay.
I swear.
Why does it feel like I'm trying to convince myself of the fact?