This is a piece commissioned by Emmy, written specifically for her as a prequel to the Gothland universe. It features a cameo appearance by Ang, and was midwived by Kyla, Allen Sama, and Nemoinis, among others. In short, this is what you might call a group effort, and my thanks go out to everyone who helped me beat it out of my head.

*****

Joey was a popular guy at the club.

JC felt a twinge of envy as he watched Joey work his way through the crowd, hugging a boy there, kissing a girl there, thanking people for their offers of drinks or companionship or sex. He sighed, and started when a soft voice next to him said, "I know, he's amazing to watch, isn't he?"

JC turned to stare at the owner of the voice. Next to him sat a girl - pretty, with purple-y hair - gazing at the scene before her. He smiled when he realized he must have looked as transfixed as she did.

"Yeah, he's pretty amazing." The girl met his eyes, and he stuck out his hand. "We haven't met. I'm JC."

"You can call me Emmy." She shook his hand reluctantly, almost nervously.

"Do you know Joey?"

Emmy smiled a lopsided smile. "I've met him, but I doubt he'd remember me."

JC waved her doubts away. "You'd be surprised at what he remembers. Oh," he gulped, "here he comes." He caught himself straightening his shirt, but had to laugh when he caught her tugging on her corset out of the corner of his eye.

"JC! Good to see you!" Joey swept JC up into a hug, then turned his attention to JC's neighbor. "I know I've met you. Is it ... Emmy?"

Emmy smiled and blushed prettily as Joey shook her hand, then pressed it to his lips. "Yeah. We've talked, but it was just for a little while."

"I thought you looked familiar." Joey settled down on the bench, right between Emmy and JC. "So what's been going on, JC? I haven't seen you out here much lately."

JC shook his head and grinned at Joey's whimsical sense of personal space, which seemed to be practically nonexistent for both he and Emmy, but gave Joey the rundown on the last few weeks of his life. Joey followed that with updates on the social life of the club regulars, some of whom JC hadn't seen for longer than usual. All the while, their threesome wound into a tighter and tighter knot, as Emmy leaned in to impart snippets of sarcastic humor and JC convulsed with laughter.

Suddenly Joey broke up their cozy little gossip session, leaping to his feet, cocking his head and listening intently. "JC!" He grabbed JC's hand, and Emmy's. "We have to dance. Now." JC and Emmy only had time to exchange quick looks of affectionate confusion before Joey was dragging them into the next room and onto the dance floor.

Their confusion was relieved in moments, however, when the words of the song filtered through the thumping bass. "I would die for you, I would die for you," crooned Shirley Manson, "I've been dying just to feel you by my side, to know that you're mine ..." Without a second thought, JC allowed his body to slide into the seductive rhythms of the song. He swayed against the bodies that instantly filled the dance floor, and only distantly registered that two of them were Joey and Emmy. He was forced to take notice, however, when Joey slipped behind him, reached out for Emmy, and pulled all three of them into a twisting, sweating column of limbs.

They moved together for a thousand breathless moments. JC felt Joey's solid body at his back, driving to the beat of the song, and Emmy's soft, dizzingly feminine body in front of him, and was almost overwhelmed by the sensations. He looked up to find Emmy gazing fixedly over his shoulder, and twisted his head to see Joey meeting her stare for stare. They returned their attention to him briefly, but JC read the desire between them and made an executive decision. He palmed Emmy's shoulders and slowly turned her until her back was to Joey. He flicked a smile at the two of them, and moved further into the crowd. He hadn't gone more than two steps when he spotted Angela in her black lace corset; he made a beeline for her.

Emmy turned around and smiled shyly up at Joey. "Well. That was kind of ... obvious."

Joey grinned and shook his head. "JC gets like that. Too much input and his head gets fizzy." He wrapped his arms around her waist and snugged her against himself. "Besides, I don't mind."

They danced until Joey begged for a break, laughing and panting, then made for one of the dark, cool booths in the back of the club, detouring for water. Glasses in hand, they slid across leather seats in the dim lighting. Black lights at the entrance of the room provided the only real illumination. The walls glowed softly, however, with hundreds of stars provided by pinpricks in the black fabric that draped them and hid pulsing, rotating lamps.

Emmy caught herself staring at the light show, as she always did, and smiled sheepishly at Joey. She found herself tongue-tied, but Joey didn't seem to mind - seemed, instead, to be enjoying the moment of quiet in the chaos of the club. Finally they began talking in low voices of nothing much. Emmy told Joey about the job she didn't like very much, and he sympathized earnestly with her. Finally the talk turned to JC, and Joey became uncharacteristically flustered.

"It's just that I like him. Like, a lot. And I don't know what he thinks about me. I don't even know if he likes guys." At Emmy's look of disbelief, he amended, "Well, okay, I think he likes guys, but I don't know if he likes me."

Emmy chuckled and patted Joey on the cheek. "Oh, I don't think you have to worry about that. Just, you have to make a move. He'll never say anything first."

His eyes lit with a sparkle, and he caught her hand as she tried to draw it back. "A move? Like what?" He tugged gently, and she laughed.