Dirty Dancing


cesar_icon.gif monica3_icon.gif

Scene Title Dirty Dancing
Synopsis Sylvia?
Yes, Mickey?
How do you call your lover boy??
Date March - May 2019

March 15, 2019

Dumpling House, Yamagato Park

“Look. It’s like this…”

Agent Cesar Diaz of SESA has been friends with Monica Dawson for years now. And all those years have come along with certain… benefits. She’s pulled his ass out of the line of fire. She’s pulled his ass out of a potential frying pan stuck the mires of undercover work. And now? Well.

“You’re the only one I could trust to help me with this, Monica. It’s gotta be you.”

Every year since their initial meeting, they’ve celebrated in mostly the same way. Dinner of dumplings and beer at a hole-in-the-wall mom-and-pop in Yamagato Park. He’s even learned how to properly use chopsticks now instead of skewering the poor meat and veg parcels.

And of course, dessert.

This year, though, Cesar had been acting a little strange before the end of the meal. Hiding behind the skinny chopsticks uselessly, pushing the last dumpling on his plate around like he meant to stall. She could even have suspected he was about to do something ridiculous, considering the way men nervously try to be cool under pressure but give themselves away.

Cesar’s tells were there, but strangely mixed. That is, until here they are.

“I couldn’t think of a way to get in otherwise. They’d make me in two seconds as a fed. Then I’d be a dead fed. Shit… I’d even be more comfortable back at the Barrens.”

He stares directly at Monica, pleading. “Come on, Dawson. You’re my only hope.”

"Star Wars, that's cheating," Monica points out before she pops her last dumpling into her mouth. She looks positively pleased with herself, especially once it became clear he wasn't about to do something silly. He has to wait while she chews and when she follows up with a drink of her beer. "I suppose I don't want you to get made," she says, as if weighing the pros and cons, "and you have a good base to build from." She sighs, she tilts her head, and then she looks over at him with a crooked smile.

"Do you know if there's a pole or not?"

It makes a difference. She pulls up her phone, tapping swiftly against the screen, adding to her already very interesting youtube search history.

"And how often do I get to come watch?"

That one is asked with a shameless grin.

Seated across from Monica, Cesar is helpless to watch, wait, anticipate what her answer would be to his request for aid of a very bare nature. “It’s only a little,” confesses the man on his tactic, a bare shrug of a shoulder marking the faintest of regret. He leans in, subconsciously doing so, anxiously watchin her take a drink of her beer. The question takes him aback. Cesar blinks. “Do I… n-no, I don’t.”

He frowns, a fresh set of disconcerted thoughts bubbling up to foam at the head of his immediate concerns. “Do guys even- do they even do that part?” And more importantly was he going to have to learn how to pole dance on such short notice? While he’s in the middle of that thought, her followup question and grin otherwise bring his attention back to the woman. Cesar pouts, his lips pressed together in the middle. He eyes Monica’s butcher’s dog grin.

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

"Of course it's a yes," Monica says, looking over at him with a crooked smile, "can't let you embarrass yourself. Or SESA. So Dominic moved up to the Safe Zone and took a job stripping. All for a girl."

Teasing is likely to be a part of this whole process.

"What do you mean, do guys do that part? They sure do," she says, glancing back to her phone, "but we'll leave that for now. If you've never done it, it takes some getting used to." She pauses and look at him before she notes, "Or so I hear." And back to her phone to pick a video from the list, "Plus, we would need to find a pole for you practice on and I'm not sure it would match the decor in your apartment. Give me a second."

As she plays the first video, her eyes white over and he can see the mirrored image of the dancer reflected in her eyes.

For the briefest of flashes Cesar looks genuinely worried. But after Monica’s reassurances, he sags back against his chair in relief. “Well you know, Dominic, he ain’t ashamed to do what he needs to do to keep his girl happy,” he considers aloud with a tip of his beer into him. A bit of liquid courage to face the idea of what he’s about to do. About to learn.

As her eyes white over and her power kicks in in real time, Cesar sits back up to watch the process. It’s not something he’s been a particular witness to, seeing Monica’s power in action. The last dumpling on his plate disappears into him as well, and he curiously observes her reaction in reading the video. “What’s it feel like,” he asks after it sounds like the video is wrapping up, “when you do that?”

He can tell when she focus back into the now, when her eyes return to normal and she looks over at him with a lifted eyebrow. Not many people have asked Monica what it feels like when she uses her power. What can she learn, sure, but not how it feels. And never having needed to put it into words before, she needs a moment to figure out how to explain it.

"You know when you have too much coffee? Hang on, no," she starts, stops, and falls quiet again. Her head tilts and she tries to find an adequate comparison. "You know that thing I do with my fingers that you like? It's like that, but everywhere." Yeah, that'll do. She nods, apparently satisfied with that explanation. "It's hard not to just move after."

And yet, she manages to sit there and sip her beer instead.

Having started to relate to the “too much coffee” portion, Cesar pinches his brow and begins to nod, only to pause when she does. He blinks, caught up in the moment of imagining the sensation of a restless caffeine induced buzz. Also in that moment he picks up his beer to take a drink.

And manages to not shower Monica in a spittake of alcohol at her follow-up explanation. But he does set his beer down and swallow hard, some of the liquid caught shy of trickling into his airway. He pounds a fist on his chest, holding it there until he recovers enough to respond verbally instead of merely physically.

At least he was sitting down for that one.

He coughs, laughs, and grabs up a napkin to dab at his mouth. To hide the sudden goofy yet crooked smile despite that she totally can see his flushed cheeks. That’s the beer talking. Really. But the next look he gives her suggests it’s not embarrassment that causes the blush. “So, it’s like that,” he observes, not so coolly. He goes for another, slightly calmer sip of his beer, still eyeing her over the glass. She knows that look.

His gaze flicks to the cashier, then back to her. “You wana move now?”

Monica watches him with a crooked smile. Her eyes look very much like she's holding back a laugh, at first. By the time he gets around to his question, though, her expression has shifted to something more sly.

Her answer is yes.

Cesar's Apartment

March 23, 2019

Monica sits cross-legged on Cesar's bed, a sketchbook out on her lap. She's taken to drawing out her choreography for him, since she doesn't actually know the names of any moves, but does know how to draw. Now she does, anyway.

"Cesar, I've seen you in way less," she calls out toward the hallway. She does her very best not to tease, knowing his wardrobe for this particular mission is a little uncomfortable for him. "You have to practice in what you're going to wear before the day. You don't want any surprises out there."

The noise that comes from the hallway, halfway between a gutteral groan and a discontent growl, is quite telling. Cesar hasn’t shown her the purchases made - you’re welcome, citizen taxpayer - which he most certainly had not taken her along to do. That would have been far too obvious, for one. And would ruin the surprise.

It’s only been a week. It’s only been a helluva week. “That’s different, Monica,” his debates from the hall as he emerges from the bathroom, volume increasing by proximity to the open bedroom door. “And I still have a couple weeks at least.” When she looks up, he’s on display in all his athletically inclined glory, with one catch. The sparkling black G-string covering his privates is only just, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. Monica doesn’t even have to imagine; as she’s said, she’s seen him in less.

“I should take it back,” Cesar considers, glancing down, then up to the woman. His sigh is a heavy one.

Monica does not laugh. She tried very very hard not to. And also, to keep anything else that might embarrass him off her face. Only her eyes give her away, because she certainly looks. "Cesar, you cannot take it back. Not after where its been," she says with a gesture toward him. In all his glory. God bless America. "A couple weeks is hardly enough time for you to learn a few routines. You're really gonna have to work at it." It's hard to tell if she's teasing or serious, really, because she's just a bit of both. "I promise to behave as much as possible."

That part's definitely a tease.

"I've got some ideas for other dances," she says, managing to be more serious as she gets up from the bed, "I can't promise you'll love them, but we both know you know how to move so you'll be able to pull them off." A beat. "While you pull it all off," she adds with a grin.

Cesar stares back at Monica’s face, dark eyes boring into that expression and the angle of her gaze. His reaction to hers is shy of a pout, not enough to be considered indignation or even embarrassment at this point of the reveal. “I don’t understand how,” he says as he approaches her to meet at the edge of the bed where she stands, “this isn’t going to feel like there’s not a rope that’s trying to pull everything down the front and up my culito.” He huffs a breath, every motion made obvious by the amount of exposure along bared skin.


He reaches out for her top shoulder, looking dead on serious in contrast to that grin on her. “Couple weeks of hard work, that I can do.” A beat passes. “You’re a good teacher.” For which he is willing to be a good student and, hopefully, behave himself as well.

“You haven’t even seen the pants.”

Mostly behaved.

"That's exactly what it's gonna feel like. Better get used to it," Monica says with a laugh. "Sorry Cesar," she adds, "But you're learning a lot, think of it that way." She tilts her head when he touches her shoulder, her smile softening. The compliment is waved off, though. "Happy to help." And that she means genuinely, and not just because he's dressed provocatively.

"Well," she says to his last words, "go put them on and we'll go through your routines. Make sure everything is possible in that ensemble."

Cesar’s Apartment

May 1, 2019

It might be a Wednesday, but Cesar isn’t going in to the office for anything. Not after what he’d gone through last night, and once he’d gotten back to his apartment, he crashed out for a spell. Only a spell, because his alarm which he forgot to turn off beeps incessantly at him in the early morning. Normally, he’d be getting up to get ready for an early run.

That’s definitely not happening. Not while he is still in the G-string and breakaway pants. The shirt is tossed on the back of the couch somewhere in front room, and the tie is lost to an enthused woman of the night’s work.

“Not today,” Cesar grumbles into his pillow as he snakes a hand out for the alarm and gropes the snooze button. In his groggy state, he doesn’t notice when he knocks the small thumb drive off the bedside table, and the plastic casing clatters in a soft noise against the wood flooring.

It might take a few more minutes for the smell of fresh coffee to hit him, but it is a giveaway that he has a guest this morning.

Monica is drawn toward the bedroom with the grumbles and clatters and she leans against the door frame with an amused expression on her face. "I take it that means our date is off this morning?" That would be the running. But it's asked with the sort of enjoyment that gives away the fact that she saw this coming. But came to bother him anyway. She comes closer, setting down a cup of coffee for him before she crouches to pick up the thumb drive. She lifts an eyebrow as she looks at it, then at him, then back again.

"Should I even ask what this is?"

As sleepy as he is, Cesar cannot escape the aromatic scent of coffee. “Need… want…” Muffled by his pillow, the man’s reply manages to escape along with a groan that accompanies his push up against the lumpy mattress. He rolls over, then sits up with a wipe of a hand over his face as he peers from the cup of coffee sitting on the nightstand to Monica and the thumb drive in her hand.

A flash of alarm wakes him up quick. Cesar makes a swipe for the drive. “It’s evidence,” he says while doing so.

Monica lifts her arm away from his swipe, her eyebrows lifting in curiosity at his answer. "And now you're gonna have to explain to someone how my fingerprints ended up all over it," she says, her tone teasing. "Evidence as in strip club evidence? Whose job is it to review that?" she asks with a laugh before she comes over to sit next to him. "I think you're going to be very popular at work." She holds the drive out toward him, a small peace offering. "Gotta say, kinda looks like you don't need the coffee anymore."

He’d blame being unable to swipe the drive back in time on being sleepy. Or, that his teasing friend happens to be able to ninja her way around. Cesar levels a slightly indignant look at her, although it’s countered by a spreading, crooked smile once she pinpoints exactly what’s on the drive. “It’ll only matter for the investigators right now,” he says with an air of self-reference. “Besides, your taxpayer dollars went into obtaining that. And this outfit.” He glances down briefly to the peeking sparkly string looped around his hip. The man take the offered flashdrive off her hands, turning it over in his own, then sets it back down on the nightstand in favor of lifting the cup of coffee for a drink.

He may not have needed it, but the small sip is good enough for the moment of want.

Cesar then turns back to Monica, leaning in closer. “You know, the price tag was twenty-five hundred for a show from the Dominator last night.” His tone turns teasing as well, dark eyes shining with amusement and suggestion.

"I'm very aware of what the taxpayers are paying for with this mission," Monica says, because she gets to have fairly regular exposure, after all. And with that suggestion entering his expression, her smile shifts to match. Maybe a little more exposure is in order.

"I guess you have to dominate somewhere," she says as she reaches over to set his coffee back on the side table. In the same motion, she leans over to kiss him.

Moving in can wait a little longer.

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