Chapter Text
When he asked Vetra about Tartarus, she told him it was more of a nightclub than a bar like Kralla’s. Pounding music, dancers in cages, the whole works. Exactly what he needed right now.
Well, she hadn’t said that last part, but it didn’t make it any less true.
The fact that he might see Reyes Vidal there was simply a bonus. The man owed him a drink. And apparently there was another matter to deal with for the Resistance. Two birds, and all that.
But more importantly, drinks. And dancing. And potentially the hottest thing he'd ever seen in a flight suit.
When he showed up in the cargo bay in his oldest, most worn jeans and a battered hoodie he thought Vetra and Cora were going to blow several gaskets each.
“You’re going to get yourself killed going into the slums like that.”
“I’ll be fine–”
“The Pathfinder’s head is probably a big prize for someone desperate enough.”
“Which is why I’m trying to blend in,” he argued, gesturing at himself. “My shiny blue and white armor makes me more of a target than anything else I could wear.”
“Then we’ll come with you.”
“And how am I supposed to blend in with *you* trailing behind me in *your* shiny blue and white armor?”
Cora crossed her arms, frowning. He knew they were just worried, just trying to protect him, but coddling isn’t what he needed right now. “At least wear some light armor, I know we’ve got–”
“No,” he interrupted firmly. He let a barrier burst forth, showier than it needed to be to make his point. “You of all people know that I *am* a weapon and armor all in one.”
“Ryder–”
“Lexi?” he barked into his omni-tool.
“Yes, Pathfinder?”
“How are my stress levels?”
There was a short pause, as if Lexi was surprised he was even acknowledging being stressed out, never mind asking her to talk about it. “To be honest, through the roof.”
“And how are hobbies for stress levels?”
“Obviously enjoyable activities will reduce–”
“And if those hobbies involve physical activity?”
“That’s even better–”
“Thanks Lexi.”
“What are you–”
Scott keyed off the comm, cutting off any potential objections. He glared at Vetra and Cora. “I’ll make sure I’m in the elevator alone. I’ll go straight to Tartarus. I have my biotics, and several hidden knives, and SAM. We’ll comm you if anything happens.”
After a moment Cora huffed out a ‘fine’ and left the cargo bay. She may have been the more vocal of the two, but Scott knew it was Vetra ‘older sister’ Nyx that he really needed to worry about. He’d been dealing with an older sister all his life. Sometimes discretion was the better part of valor.
“You want to head to the slums first so you can be more subtle about following me?” he asked quietly over his shoulder.
“Yep,” she said simply. How she could pop the ‘p’ with no lips was beyond Scott.
“All right. You’ve got five minutes then I’m heading down.”
He was still nearly ten feet from the door to Tartarus when the bass started to vibrate through the grate, into his feet and up his legs. When the door opened he was assaulted by pounding music, smoke, sweat, and stale booze. Finally, something familiar. It felt a bit like coming home. He could feel a weight lifting from his chest even as the music rattled his rib cage. His eyes went immediately to the writhing bodies on the dance floor, but he reminded himself that he was actually here for a legitimate purpose.
Reyes Vidal, and wrapping up their business with Vehn Terev. *Then* some dancing. The man hadn’t given him any contact info or times to meet, just a location. Scott had no idea if he would be here, but if he wasn’t it just gave him an excuse to come back another time. Win-win, as far as Scott was concerned.
He pushed through the bodies, pleased when no one gave him a second look, and sent a silent ‘told you so’ to Cora. After a moment he spotted a cage with a helpful ‘Drinks’ sign above it.
“What’s your poison?” called the man.
“I’m not picky,” he replied. If he got back a glass of something that was going to kill him or make him sick, SAM would let him know.
“My kind of customer,” the bartender grinned. He pushed a cup through the bars. “Call this a Kadara Sunrise.”
[private] Scott, I detect nothing more than the expected levels of alcohol.
Perfect, he thought, taking a sip, and then chugging the whole thing when it turned out to be much less vile than he was expecting. He activated his omni-tool and looked expectantly at the bartender. “What do I owe you?”
To his surprise, the man waved him off. “First drink free of charge. I heard the man upstairs owed you one.”
He assumed the bartender was talking about Reyes, and not God. “Can you let him know I’m here?”
“Will do, Pathfinder. He’s in a meeting, so it’ll be a minute.”
“Not the Pathfinder tonight,” he grinned, feeling the heat of the drink spreading from his gut outwards. “Just Scott.”
“Kian,” the bartender offered, holding out his hand for a shake. He wasn’t sure if he was being flirted with, if Kian was being friendly in the hopes of making more money, or if it was something else. Regardless, it was nice that there were at least two people in the port that didn’t want his head on a pike.
“I’ll be back for another one of those,” he promised, and at Kian’s nod he moved toward the dance floor. There was a Salarian at a nearby table that was only just barely keeping his head up. Scott pulled off his hoodie, leaving him in a tank top that had seen better days. “Watch this for me, will you?” he said to the Salarian, tossing the hoodie on the back of the chair next to him.
“Whaaa?” came the warbling response.
Scott just grinned and moved off. He didn’t expect to see it again, but he didn’t really care. Reyes could wait, everything could wait, he needed to dance.
He quickly made his way from the edge of the dance floor into the middle of the chaos, used to navigating much larger spaces like Purgatory and Afterlife. He moved with the crowd, closing his eyes and letting the beat take him. There were only three things that felt this good, that could get him out of his head and focused solely on what his body was doing second by second: dancing, fighting, and fucking. Some of the best nights of his life involved all three - a particularly memorable one involved the same person for all three, and in that order.
Fighting was all about keeping hands and weapons away from him. Fucking was all about one set of hands - and lips, and feet, and balls - as close as possible. Scott had tried threesomes and moresomes, but found all he did was worry about what went where, and was everyone having a good time and–
When he was dancing, the touches didn’t matter. Hands skated over his shoulder, a chest pressed to his back, a set of fingers grasped his hips. They came and went, and Scott reached out and released in turn.
Plenty of humans - they seemed to make up the majority of the exiles. Scott absently wondered if that had been a deliberate play by Tann.
A woman with a nasty scar running down her cheek and hard eyes that screamed Outcast but still ground her ass against his crotch and held his hands just under her breasts until she was replaced by a lithe man who tossed his arms around Scott’s neck and slotted his thigh in between Scott’s until they were both a little hard.
A turian who bobbed along to the beat but seemed more interested in running his talons along the bare skin of Scott’s arms, shoulders, collarbones, his sides where the drop armholes of his tank left his ribs and lats exposed. Scott found himself raising his arms and gyrating in circles so the turian could lightly scratch every inch of skin that could be found.
An asari who moved like she came straight from Chora’s Den gave him a run for his money as they surged and wrapped around each other in time to the never ending beat. Her mouth fastened on his neck and he tilted his head back, groaning at the pleasure. His eyes slid lazily around the upper level of the club, dimly noting the people scattered around the second floor railing. Some were chatting, some were surveying the dance floor, some . . .
One gaze was laser focused on him.
Reyes. Leaning on the railing, watching him with a hungry look in his amber eyes.
Heat bursting in his belly, Scott’s hips jerked, and the asari sucked harder thinking she’d caused the reaction. He fought to keep his eyes from fluttering shut and watched as Reyes realized he’d been caught staring. The other man straightened and the hungry look was quickly replaced with vague interest and amusement. But to Scott’s surprise, and his pleasure, the other man didn’t break their stare, just gave Scott a raised eyebrow as if to say ‘I thought you were coming to see me.’
Scott grinned and returned the wink Reyes had given him at their first meeting. He had only enough time to see the other man’s mouth stretch in a grin before a new arm wrapped around his waist and his attention was firmly back on the dance floor.
Yeah, he was *supposed* to be here to see Reyes, but he had a pretty good feeling that Reyes was going to come to him.
Scott couldn’t have said if two or twenty more songs played, but the instant a tentative set of fingers landed over his hips from behind he knew it was Reyes. If asked, he wouldn’t be able to explain how he knew, only that the lightning shooting up his spine at the touch was unmistakably the smuggler.
It was confirmed seconds later when a voice in his ear rumbled, “You look like you’re waiting for someone.”
He laughed and turned his head to make sure Reyes could see the curve of his smile, but didn’t bother responding otherwise. The music would have swallowed anything he said, unless he spun around and put his mouth by Reyes' ear. Maybe later. He rolled his hips and was pleased when Reyes followed his lead.
With the way he swaggered in that flight suit Scott wasn’t particularly surprised that the other man had rhythm.
When he glanced down, he was even more pleased to see that Reyes had removed his gloves before joining him, and the bare fingers curled over his hips were long and elegant, with neatly trimmed nails.
After a few minutes Scott was considering pushing his luck by pressing back into Reyes’ body - despite the other man openly admitting to not being a gentleman, he now stubbornly kept a few inches between their bodies. Scott wanted to feel the wiry strength he suspected was hidden beneath the flight suit, feel those full lips running along his neck, hear that fucking voice crawl in his ear and down his chest straight to his cock.
In the end, the debate was solved when another dancer fell and knocked into them - lost balance or drunk or injured Scott didn’t know, because as soon as he stumbled against Reyes the other man’s arms locked around him and he swung them around so that his body was between Scott’s and whatever was going on.
That move was too quick, too instinctual to be for show.
Scott craned his neck to look back at the scene - just a woman who’d had too much to drink and stumbled - before letting his head fall onto Reyes' shoulder and leaning back into the other man a little.
Now *this* was the kind of coddling he wouldn’t argue with, especially if it came with an enticing body pressed all along his back and a strong arm locked solidly around his waist. Reyes’ other arm was crossed over his chest, and since Scott’s tank had twisted with their sudden movement his hand was splayed over Scott’s bare right pec. He wondered if Reyes could feel Scott’s pebbled nipple against the palm of his hand.
The cluster of dancers was beginning to resume their movement after the disturbance but Reyes hadn’t moved an inch - not to dance or to let Scott go. Honestly, Scott was good just like this and wondered how long they could get away not moving in the sea of bodies, but Reyes finally spoke up.
“Come on,” he said, voice warm, breath ghosting over Scott's jaw. “I could use a drink.” Still, he waited, unmoving, until Scott nodded and then Reyes gave him a quick squeeze before letting go and stepping away. Reyes waved in Kian’s direction and Scott saw the bartender nod before Reyes led him up the stairs. No gloves, no vest, no belt. Scott didn’t even pretend to be ashamed when Reyes glanced back as he reached the landing and caught Scott ogling his ass. Scott just grinned cheekily and followed Reyes the rest of the way into a mostly empty back room. Couches lined two of the walls, joined by a terminal, a crate, and a couple of tables. The gloves, vest, and belt that Reyes was currently missing were piled on one of the tables. He sincerely hoped that Reyes wasn’t *living* here - those couches looked like hell on the back.
A server darted in quickly to leave a glass of what Scott could only assume was his Kadara Sunrise, as well as an empty glass and a bottle for Reyes. When the door closed behind her Scott turned back to Reyes to find the man startlingly close, some of the heat back in his gaze as he ran his eyes over Scott.
Reyes raised a hand to Scott’s neck, not quite touching. “That’s quite the mark your dance partner left,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the spot. Scott found himself tipping his head back to give Reyes a better look. Fingers ghosted over the bruise once, twice, then settled more firmly as Scott didn’t object. Reyes tracing the edges of the hickey with his thumb felt even better than getting it in the first place.
A tiny hum slipped from the back of Scott’s throat and suddenly Reyes pulled his hand away, and then his entire body as he took a step back and cleared his throat. “To business then?” Reyes said, as if he hadn’t just made Scott go from ‘a little hard’ to ‘definitely sporting a visible semi.’
Scott watched him pour himself a drink before handing Scott his glass and gesturing to one of the couches. Scott was too keyed up to want to sit, but he also felt slightly wrong-footed all of a sudden and so decided to follow the other man’s lead and grab a spot on one of the couches.
“I received a message from Evfra earlier. It seems that Vehn made it safely back to Aya. Honestly it seemed like he would have been happier leaving him in Sloane’s clutches.”
Scott nodded. “Yeah, if it wasn’t for the intel we needed Evfra wouldn’t even have asked me to come to Kadara. It was the moshae that wanted Vehn back alive.”
“The moshae is more forgiving than I had imagined.”
“Maybe,” Scott shrugged, downing half his drink. “Or maybe she wanted to look into the eyes of her betrayer and ask why.”
Reyes just hummed and took his own sip. “Well, whether for compassion or justice or pure curiosity, I am glad it brought you to Kadara, Pathfinder.”
“Scott,” he corrected, then waved at himself. “No Pathfinder here tonight.”
“So it seems,” Reyes grinned, eyes darting quickly over him. “Did they never get Vortex up and running?”
Scott made a face. “They did. I can’t exactly . . . let loose there.”
“Well then, to one of the perks of Kadara,” Reyes said, holding out his glass.
Not the only perk , Scott thought. “To Kadara,” he returned, clinking. They finished their drinks and the silence began to stretch out uncomfortably. Reyes *looked* relaxed, but there was something about him that seemed . . . anticipatory. A large part of Scott was hoping the other man was preparing to pounce on him, but instinct told him it was something else. He’d made it pretty clear that he was a sure thing if Reyes wanted to get . . . closer, but if the other man was hesitating it probably meant he wanted something else from Scott.
He set his empty glass on the nearest table and sighed. “Spit it out, Reyes.”
Reyes winced. “I must admit, I feel guilty for interrupting your night out.”
“I know I’ve had a couple drinks, but I’m pretty sure I recall you *participating* in my night,” he pointed out with an arched brow. And there. There was that heat in Reyes’ eyes again, there and gone so quickly Scott almost thought he imagined it.
Was Reyes the galaxy’s biggest tease, or was there a reason he kept putting up a wall just when things were getting interesting?
You’re the representative of the Nexus on a planet that detests anything and anyone having to do with the Nexus , Scott reminded himself. Of course Reyes wouldn’t want to get too close, even if he *wanted* to . Scott was probably poison to anyone seen being too friendly with the Pathfinder. Though . . .
That didn’t explain the completely public meeting in Kralla’s, or their chat in the middle of the marketplace after that. The dancing Scott could mostly write off as being safe because no one save the bartender Kian seemed to recognize him and everyone else was drunk or distracted. Still seemed like a risk though, not that Scott was going to complain when he could still feel the sensation of Reyes’ arms locked around him, heat from his palm a brand on Scott’s chest.
Scott wasn’t a fan of the hot and cold routine, but he had to admit that he didn’t really know the other man very well despite the connection he could feel zinging between them. And not everyone just reached out and simply took what they wanted like Scott tended to, consequences be damned. The joy and the curse of Ryder genes.
“What is going through that head of yours, Scott?” Reyes asked, leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees.
The genuine curiosity and the sound of his name in that rolling accent had him being even more honest than he usually was. “My father,” he blurted, then ran a hand over his face. Oh well, in for a credit . . .
“I think tonight is the first time I’ve been able to breathe and just *be* since he—since I became the Pathfinder.”
“That must have been an awful welcome to Heleus.” Reyes sounded genuinely sorry.
“Says the exile,” Scott joked, trying to steer the conversation away from the painful topic. Reyes seemed to read him easily enough.
“Hey, at least I had a year to work up to that.”
They shared a chuckle and Scott found himself asking, “If it’s not too much of a sore spot, I’d be curious to ask you about leaving the Nexus. The official reports are so skewed toward the leadership I can barely believe a word of them. Opinions when I talk to anyone else seem . . . mixed.”
“I would be happy to share my heroic adventure from Initiative member to dashing exile smuggler. But not tonight.” He held up the bottle and wiggled it, pouring him a drink when Scott held out his now empty glass. “No more work talk. Let’s have a drink. You can tell me if Aya is as beautiful as the Angara claim, or how on earth you became an Expel 10 fan,” Reyes said, letting Scott know he’d caught the logo on his tank top. “Or . . . you can go back to dancing if you wish.”
“You won’t join me?”
“I’m too old to be embarrassing myself on the dance floor,” Reyes said with false modesty, eyes glittering with amusement.
“You weren’t. And you aren’t,” Scott rebutted, aiming a pointed glance over the rim of his glass.
“Well.” Reyes leaned back, spreading his legs ever so slightly and laying his free arm along the back of the couch. His voice went husky and dark. “Then maybe I just like to watch.”
Oh fuck. Whatever arousal had been put on the back burner when they started talking about Vehn came roaring back. Scott shifted, trying to adjust himself without being obvious, but the pleased twitch of Reyes’ lips let him know he’d failed miserably.
Did Reyes know how much Scott wanted to drop to his knees on the dirty floor and wrap his tongue around the other man's cock right now? Or was he unaware of the effect he was having?
No , Scott thought as he watched the twitch of Reyes’ lips turn into a cheshire grin. The man knew exactly what he was doing . Fuck.
If Reyes didn't want to talk about whatever business they still had, Scott figured he should go before he got himself into too much trouble. He may have been impulsive, but even Scott knew fucking their Resistance contact when they apparently had more business to discuss and Evfra still didn’t quite trust him was a bad idea. Otherwise he’d already have Reyes’ flight suit pulled down around his thighs and Reyes dick in his mouth. Goddamn. Shit. Fu—
Scott tipped back the last of his drink - eugh, whiskey of some sort - and stood. “I should probably get back to the ship before they file a missing person’s report.” At Reyes’ questioning brow he explained, “I told them where I was going, but not when I’d be back, and it’s been–” he opened his omni-tool and looked at the time, “--almost five hours. Holy shit.”
Exactly how long had Reyes been watching him dance? And had he stuck around just waiting for Scott to come see him? How long would he have kept watching or waiting if Scott hadn’t spotted him up on the second floor?
Reyes stood as well and reached for his vest. “Let me walk you back.” Scott opened his mouth automatically to object, but Reyes seemed to sense it and held up a hand to forestall any argument. “While I have no doubt you can take care of yourself, it would be a shame to end your night on a violent note. Think of me merely as an extra deterrent.”
Cora could use a lesson in how not to be condescending from Reyes, not that he could ever tell her that without risking his own head. Scott watched Reyes fasten his vest and belt and pull his gloves on. Such a shame to cover up those hands, but those thigh holsters? Chef's kiss. “If it comes to that,” Scott said, pulling out two of his hidden knives and twirling them, “I’ll make sure no one gets through me to you.”
Reyes gaped at him, eyes darting over Scott’s flimsy tank top and snug, threadbare jeans. “Where were you hiding those?”
“If you’d danced with me some more you might have found out,” he said impishly. Reyes followed him out the door with a delighted laugh, trying to see where the knives disappeared back to before Scott got too far ahead of him. Scott reveled in the attention. He got the feeling Reyes wasn't taken off guard often.
“Scott Ryder. You are going to be trouble, aren’t you?”
“You know, people keep telling me that,” he said, all nonchalance, and was treated to another warm chuckle.
They made it back to the docks undisturbed, chatting aimlessly about nothing. When they reached the Tempest docking ramp Scott thumbed over his shoulder and said “This is me,” just like he would if they’d been on a date and Reyes was walking him home. Reyes glanced up at the hull of the ship, his expression almost wistful before he covered it with a neutral smile.
Scott remembered that Reyes had wanted to talk to him about something Pathfinder-related. “Are you free tomorrow night?”
“That depends,” Reyes hedged.
Scott smirked. “We’re heading out in the morning to activate the monoliths and find the vault. I’ll definitely need a drink after. And you wanted to discuss something.”
“What do you know," Reyes said, not even pretending to look at his omni-tool. "My schedule has just cleared.”
Scott laughed and opened his omni-tool to send Reyes his contact info, since the other man *still* hadn’t given him any of his own. Reyes accepted the request, and after a moment Scott received his own ping back.
“Hopefully by the time I see you tomorrow the water will be *less* on fire.” Scott backed up far enough to trigger the door control. “Thanks for the dance, by the way.”
“It was my pleasure, Pathfinder,” Reyes purred.
As Scott stepped further onto the docking ramp, he had a hard time looking away from the smuggler. The warmth in his belly had less to do with the whiskey and more to do with the memory of Reyes' long fingers and splayed thighs. Reyes's voice pulled him from his thoughts.
"Tomorrow then," Reyes said with a nod, his eyes holding a glint of anticipation. Maybe even a hint of a tease, as if he could tell exactly what Scott was thinking. He probably could, damn him.
"Tomorrow," Scott confirmed, a smile tugging at his lips.