A/N: I forget this fic exists sometimes.

There's an odd sense of nostalgia in the air---loud, thumping music and body glitter everywhere. It reminds Katsuki of when he'd first started working at Somnambul but this place wasn't even halfway as upscale as Midnight's was. 

It's a little hole-in-the wall joint by the name of Sugar Daddy's Exotic Dance Bar, covered wall to wall in erotic posters and sketchy patrons. There are thick layers of dust covering the rickity ceiling fans, giving Katsuki the impression that the place doesn't get cleaned properly all that often. The florescent lights flicker overhead---a warning that they'll be rather useless soon.

The stage doesn't at all look safe enough to be standing on, yet alone dancing. 

He thinks to himself that perhaps most regular joints are like this and he's just spoiled himself by working at Midnight's for so long. It was the first and only club he'd worked at since he'd turned sixteen, so he's inclined to believe that his opinions are rather biased.

Though, what catches his attention the most are the dancers. 

They're female. 

All of them. 

This place doesn't seem to cater to a very wide audience. He's curious as to how Shota's plan would work considering this---if it would even work at all. 

That is...until he witnesses the number one reason as to why this place actually has such shitty clientele. Putting it plainly? 

These girls are bottom tier dancers.

And it would seem that the club owner---Gary---knows it very well, as he'd been left speechless by Katsuki's audition and incredibly eager to hire him without much coaxing on Shota's behalf. They'd given him some half-assed story about Katsuki being a runaway and needing a job to help pay his way through school that Gary, admittedly, didn't seem to give a single shit about. All that he cared about was how much money Katsuki would be able to make him tonight.  

Fat, greedy fucker. 

"Not bad, kid. Not fuckin' bad at all." He breathes, eyes raking Katsuki's half naked body as a giddy grin spreads across his greasy, ruddy face. 

Katsuki can practically see the dollar signs in his eyes. 

"You put a little, ah, extra effort in and we're gonna turn you into a star...if you catch my drift." 

Gross. 

"I'm not here to be a star. I'm here to get paid." Katsuki clarifies, his stomach curling uncomfortably as Gary bites into his lip and grunts at him. "And paid you will be, darlin'. What's your name?" 

"Kat." 

"Cute fuckin' name. Hella easy on the eyes. Absolutely bangin' body. Feisty---I like it. Fuck it, you're hired." 

"As if you had a better option. In comparison to the rest of these butter-faced bitches, I'm the best chance you've got of makin' a fuckin' profit in this shithole." 

Gary doesn't have a response for that. Katsuki is glad that he's finally decided to shut the fuck up. 

"I'll pay the kid's house fee for the night if you're actually gonna take him. Go easy on him; he's a good kid." Shota chimes for the first time since they arrived. Gary seems to have forgotten the scruffy man had even been present among them, jumping a bit upon hearing him speak once more. He aggressively clears his throat, checking the time for no apparent reason at all. 

"A-Ah, right. Yeah, sure." He agrees, adjusting the collar of his shirt. "I got some folks to entertain. Make sure these girls ain't costing me more money than they're making me, yeah? Show the kid back to his dressing room, would ya? Best to keep him separated from the others. Wouldn't want a cat fight breakin' out over clientele." 

Shota nods but Gary lingers a bit longer, blatantly eyeing Katsuki with the beady little orbs in his head. Katsuki is beginning to get annoyed. 

"What?" 

"You're not going to say thank you?" 

His eyes narrow dangerously. 

"...for fucking what ?" 

Gary snickers. "For taking you in, little Kat. I mean, honestly, I'm savin' your life here. Show a little gratitude." 

Is this fucker serious ? If anyone should be showing gratitude, it should be him. He's gonna get to see this place thrive for the first time in it's miserable existence all because Katsuki is offering his services. A fucker like Gary would be lucky for someone like Katsuki to even breathe in his direction. 

He's got half a mind to go upside his shiny ass head, but a knowing look from Shota keeps him in check. 

He can't wait for Hitoshi to inevitably break this asshole's kneecaps. 

Instead, he swallows his bruised pride and thanks him through gritted teeth. 

At least, with that, Gary finally fucks off. 

Katsuki waits until his back is turned to flip him off with a roll of his eyes, Shota quite literally patting him on the back for a job well done. "I know that was difficult for you, but you've done well. Keep it up and you'll make our job here tonight fairly easy." He says, leading him out into the busy corridor to escort him to what Katsuki assumes will be his dressing room tonight. He keeps his voice low in case there are prying ears, but for the most part the hall is only occupied by a few plain looking gals who can barely walk in those raggedy ass shoes that they're wearing. 

They seem rather intimidated to see him there, dressed in strappy lace and body glitter. 

"Right. What's my job here, again?" 

Shota remains silent as they pass through a group of girls on their way to the front, making sure they're out of ear shot before he continues. 

"Your target is a guy named Kurono. You'll know him when you see him; he's always wearing that stupid fucking white trench coat. He likes to think he's hard to impress but you're just his type so you won't have to try hard. Get his attention." 

"And then?" 

"Stall. We're in enemy territory right now and he's the one calling shots without Chisaki around. Give Hitoshi and I time to discreetly diminish their numbers and block communications. We'll come in to handle the rest once that's done. Think you can handle that?" 

"I think you know I can." 

Shota chuckles, lifting a hand to fondly ruffle at Katsuki's unruly hair. 

"Never change, Katsuki." 

He sounds so much like a proud father. Katsuki tries and fails to hide the smile he's wearing. 

"I won't." 

#

Damn did it feel good to dance again. 

Katsuki's never felt more at home than he did on a pole, dancing for a bunch of drunk and sweaty strangers for their hard earned cash. He could tell that Shota was having a good laugh watching him finesse those poor losers out of their mortgage, watching him from the bar. 

The raven vaguely motions to a man ahead of him that's wearing a white trench coat---their target. 

Hari Kurono. 

He's a lot younger than what Katsuki expected him to be—a suggestively handsome man. He seems fairly disinterested in the dancers and they seem to know very well that he's got no intention of paying them any mind; they're avoiding him altogether. One would argue but it's simply because he doesn't fancy this sort of setting---that clubs aren't his scene---but Katsuki knows better. Shouto's told him about guys like these before. 

Those infamous straight guys who just so happen to love fucking the everloving shit out of cute little bottom boys. 

He's closeted---definitely on the down-low. 

Every now and again, Katsuki finds him stealing glances in his direction. Very subtle, but the unbridled heat is definitely there. This is gonna make his job much easier. 

He's just gotta play this shit up as far as he can take it. 

The walk over to the booth that he's sitting in is as slow and as sensual as Katsuki can make it, hips swaying from side to side in with every tastefully exaggerated twist of his hips. It's hard for Kurono to pretend to ignore him now. 

Especially when Katsuki bravely sits his bare ass down in his lap. 

There's a moment of deja vu that almost makes Katsuki laugh.

Kurono seems rather cowed by Katsuki's brazen arrogance but he doesn't shove him off the way that Katsuki half expects him to. He does, however, give him a rather sharp look. Katsuki gives him a devious little smirk in return. "What're you sippin' on, baby? Doesn't seem like it's doin' much to help you relax." He says, plucking the half empty flute of champagne from Kurono's hand and sliding it onto the table. As displeased as he seems, he doesn't complain---not even as Katsuki slides his hand into the opening of the pristine coat, acrylic nails dragging over the fabric of the dress shirt that Kurono is wearing. 

"...I'm not here to relax." Is the only thing he says after a while of allowing Katsuki to sit there on his thigh. The other dancers are giving them odd stares. 

The blonde plays up his cutesy, fake giggle.

"You're at a strip club full of babes and you're not here to relax?" He parrots as if he's in disbelief. 

"Babes? You consider these gravel-faced gutter girls babes ?" 

"We're not your type then?" 

"They absolutely are not. "

His choice of wording opens the opportunity for Katsuki to go for the kill. 

"They aren't?" 

"That's what I said, is it not?" 

Katsuki leans into him, nosing against Kurono's jaw. 

"Mm. What's that mean for me, then, baby? Does that mean I get a chance with you?" 

A hand tightly grips at Katsuki's bare ass so abruptly that he has to mask his startled jump with a giggle. 

"Damn, babe, your hands are cold!" He forces out as best he can to keep himself from screaming fuck off the way that he wants to. He has to remember that he's doing this for Hitoshi---doing this so that they can finish this shit once and for all and finally start living a normal life together. 

Kurono uses that hand to pull Katsuki impossibly close, lips brushing against the dancer's double pierced ears. 

"Take me back to your room and help me warm them between your thighs." 

Well. 

It would seem that they're getting right to it then. Katsuki knew it would be easy but fuck. 

"That's gonna cost you a little more." 

"Is it, now?" 

"Of course. Take a look at who you're talkin' to, baby. I'm not like these other cookie-faced bitches; I'm worth a pretty fuckin' penny. Now if you're not willing to pay the fee, I don't mind doin' you a favor and fuckin' off but the way your dick is jabbing me in the thigh tells me you want me that badly. Am I wrong?" 

Kurono's gaze flickers from Katsuki's lips down to his golden-glittered thighs. 

"No, I suppose you aren't. How much?" 

Katsuki walks his fingers up Kurono's chest until they reach his jaw. He can feel the bit of stubble growing there beneath the pads of his fingertips. 

"Mm. For you, sugar? Five hundred to get me down to my stilettos and shake this ass for you." 

He suspects a place like this has fairly cheap rates since their entertainment selection is rather sparse in terms of options so his expectations for Kurono's reactions are set rather low. He's mildly surprised when the man seems to pause and consider him. 

"Mm. And how much to have you sit on my face when you're done?" 

Have any of these fuckers ever heard of subtlety? Of having a little more tact or finesse? Don't any of these bastards have any fucking shame ?

"That's a pretty expensive request, honey." 

"Money is not an important factor to me. I want to see what you look like when you're about to cum---gorgeous as you are in a place like this. We don't see very many angels of your caliber around these parts." 

Angels? 

"Oh, baby. You're gonna find out rather quickly that I'm not as much of an angel as you think I am." It comes flirtatiously and teasingly. Kurono hasn't the slightest idea that Katsuki is hinting at his inevitable death before the night is over. 

Poor, unsuspecting fucking moron.

"Alright. An extra six hundred for every ten minutes it takes for you to make me cum. Five hundred for every hour of my time." He plays along, biting into his lip. They're outrages rates. Surely Kurono would try to bargain with him---or even more so just tell him to fuck off---right? 

"That's more than reasonable enough for a beauty like yourself." 

Is he for real? 

"I want it up front." 

"Alright. One thousand and one hundred dollars up front." 

This has to be a joke. He's obviously fucking with him. 

"You think you're gonna make me cum in ten minutes?" Katsuki snorts and Kurono seems to take that personally. "I could show you better than I could tell you. Quit your stalling and take me to your room. You'll be begging for me soon enough." 

As if he's going to make it that far. 

Katsuki silently stands from Kurono's lap, taking the man's sweaty hand in his own to lead the stuffy man towards the private rooms. He feels as though he's been stalling for quite a while but there still hadn't been any sign of Hitoshi so he'll have to drag out his dance a bit longer than anticipated.

He can't wait to see the look on Kurono's face when he ends up nose deep into the barrel of Hitoshi's gun and not Katsuki's ass. 

Katsuki thinks he deserved an Oscar, at least.