Ride of Your Life || @dreamworks-roulette || Biker AU
"Are you kiddin’ me?" A bark ordered with both the looks of a scowl and disbelief twisting into a drawn sneer at thin lips. His body language was lazy, languid as he leaned all of the astounding weight of 133 pounds onto a heavy and tall door frame. Head tilted back, his demeanor was all but displeased and simply unimpressive from a bystander’s perspective. Luckily he was only under the view of a single Australian-born flatmate whom was sharing a nearly identical look as his own.
"I just got here— I don’t want to go out!"
"Christ, Frost, ye been ‘ere three days. It ain’t like ye just hopped off the bloody plane."
"Y-yeah…! Well— Uh…"
Unlike the albino’s build which was simply lithe, the Australian stood tall and intimidating to an outsider’s eye. With tanned, inked arms crossed over his bulky chest, Aster towered over the twenty-one year old. To much of the youth’s disdain, he knew where this conversation would be heading and oh how he loathed the idea of being dragged into unfamiliar situations. As much as he loved the hyped and busy scene, the jet lag still lingered heavy on cerulean eyes.
Jackson Frost was his name. An aspiring art student who looked the part of a ‘starving artist’ as any, even as he stood in bulky layers and spike-clad jackets. Peering down at the deep scuffs that drew weary lines in his boots, his brows drew together in any searching attempt to win their current argument. But alas, none seemed available to him at the ready. All but folding what little pride he had remaining, the albino raising both hands up in a mild defense and exhaled a long breath.
"Ye been cooped up long enough sleepin’. Ahm goin’ to tha bar and yer comin’ with me. I can introduce ye to Anna and the bunch." The conclusion was settled and Jack was left to fumble dimmly with the keys which had been tossed in his direction, signalling they they’d be leaving and they’d be leaving then and there - before the pale haired male had any time to actually come up with anything valid to retort on his behalf.
Engines roared to life with the thick purr of metal beasts and rubber tires running lively against blacktop pavement. It wasn’t long until the sound of metal grind was dulled by compensate of the rapid thud of base dropping. Lively couldn’t begin to describe the state of the club that which Aster lead Jackson to.
As both men halted to a stop aside the pulsating club’s back door, a cautioned look, uncertain was thrown aloft to his flatmate. “I thought you said this was a bar.” Jack said. In response, the Australian slipped off his bike in a single fluid motion that was paired with both a laugh and a shake of cropped hair. With helmet pulled off and set onto the leather fashioned seat, he responded, “There is a bar.”
"Well thanks, I realize that much."
"Then why’re ye askin’?"
The rhetorical question alone earned an exasperated roll of blue irises and Jack himself mirrored Aster’s actions by dismounting from his bike and tossing his helmet aside. Ducking through the back door was a simple task that earned not even a double take from the scattered security that littered the place. It was to be expected of course considering the foreigner worked as a part time bartender.
Receding back to the said bar was another story. Head back behind the hustle and bustle, it was more of a private, coveted watering hole if anything. Passing several velvet ropes and bouncers that wore unwavering masks of determination, they arrived to a large room that was probably more expensive than their entire shared apartment. The room was entirely furbished and secluded. There was the dull thud of the club to remind of their environment but still provided it’s own ere.
It was wasn’t filled nor was it empty with people and their selection of liquor was damn tantalizing. Sliding into a tall bar stool on the opposite side of where Aster slinked into were they then greeted hastily. It was an interesting bunch - but was to be expected - a petite woman with multicolored hair and a bright smile, a large Russian that held a terrifying resemblance to a tattooed Santa Clause and a small round man that held a peaceful exterior.
Admittedly, Jack was… glad he’d been forced to accompany his roommate on his shift. As odd as the company was, it was a pleasant company nonetheless.
