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Harry had been too busy securing himself in a pensive, thinking-man-esque position to notice that Perry was circling him like an overgrown vulture; he only became aware of it when a hand slipped across his shoulders. He turned his head just in time to make brief eye contact with Perry, something that occurred in unison with a fingertip brushing over the exposed tendon in his neck, a tiny motion that, for reasons unknown, gave Harry goosebumps.

"'Out to my pa -'" Harry repeated, but the words died in his throat as he gathered the implications - it would have to be right in front of the pretty suit-girl too.

Of course, it was around that time that Harry realized he hadn't so much as glanced at other women since he had run into Harmony over a year ago. And been dumped by her over a year ago. Christ.

"Hey. Uncool." Harry said, pointing at Perry before taking the suit; he barely had time to glimpse it before he was half-thrown back into the changing room; he had to pause inside for a moment, closing his eyes to gather his equilibrium once more as his head protested suddenly and violently,

"Yes dear." Harry called back, trying to shake off the headache as he climbed into the newest offering.

Black had always been the best option for Harry, and the suit was no exception to the rule - it fit him the way suits were meant to fit, settling in all the right places - as it turned out, Lockhart cleaned up well.
 
Perry waited patiently – as patiently as he could – as he struck up an idle chat with Jennifer, while Harry changed and the male worker went off to do his job. It didn’t feel like too long, but once the brunette came back out, he was given a rather… pleasant view.

Sleek, suave… sexy… Harold Fucking Lockhart cleaned up really well. “Why can’t you look like that every day?” he asked out loud, recalling every time a client gave them a strange look when the client realized that Hoodie Harry was Gay Perry’s partner. And no, even they knew that it wasn’t of the gay kind.

Fuck, one would think that the first person Perry would allow to live with him would be someone he could actually fuck on every available surface and some unavailable ones. But no, his fucking luck that he got the heterosexual bastard that was still hung up on a high school love.

It was so sweet it made him want to stab himself and bleed the spectrum’s colors.

Maybe he should take the dipshit’s advice and call up Bobby Mills for a fuck. Then there was the doctor to… what was his name? Ah, Larry. Yeah, he should do that tonight. A good fuck to balm over a bad night, or hopefully, a good fuck to make a good night even better.

A threesome would even be –

He really needed to stop adding Lockhart into the bed equation. Really.

“Looking good though.” Perry admitted, giving Harry a glance over with appreciative eyes. “We’ll take this one, one in grey, the white shirt, a black one, a stripped tie along with the one he’s wearing and – what size shoes are you?” he barely waited for Harry to answer, before announcing that they’d take a pair of black shoes in that size.

Turning his body half to face the window to check if the rental car was still there – thank gods for quick service or he’d have to murder someone if he was carless – Perry then glance to his watch and noted that they still had plenty of time to go to the kink store and get Harry into something leather. He handed Jennifer his card before speaking up to Harry. “Hurry up and get back into your hobo clothes, chief, we’ve got a schedule.” because they always did, didn’t they?
 
"I feel less pimping." Harry said, adjusting the jacket, "But black works."

He noted both Perry and Jennifer were looking him over again and he was beginning to wonder if he had sprouted an extra pair of arms at some point and had simply failed to notice it - it wasn't even noon and the world was already surreal.

"Uh, size ten-and-a-half." he said, eyeing his bare feet; he supposed that his sneakers wouldn't do, but damn he hated dress shoes; of course, he didn't have any time to protest because Perry was checking off a laundry list of items that Harry apparently had to take - and even if he could have gotten a word in edgewise, he probably wouldn't have bothered. Either way, Perry Van Shrike got things to work the way he wanted them to.

"Yeah, sure, what he said." Harry mumbled, heading back into the change room and extracting himself from the suit; he didn't want to look at the price because he knew that suits had the tendency of costing as much as a month's rent - and while he was making decent coin now, he still had the tendency of watching his bank account like he was going to be homeless at any given moment. It was habit.

He tugged on his jeans and hoodie, emerging victorious in the clothes that he was probably born in.

"A schedule," Harry repeated, "See Jennifer, we have a schedule. I don't know what it is, but apparently we have one. Thanks for your help, by the way. It was, uh, nice meeting you - great first date. Maybe I can measure you next time."
 
By the time Harry was remotely ready to get going, Perry was already on his phone, calling up the next store they were going to. Now that he had Lockhart’s measurements, he might as well have the kink store find Harry’s size in the leather department. It wasn’t often that people came in and asked for the specific things that Perry was asking for, but then again, the Red Lounge was truly an exclusive, high end club for such a thing.

He gave a wave over his shoulder to signify that he was heading out the car, so that Harry was to wait for his card and join afterwards. Jennifer just smiled at the brunette and gave him a wink at his efforts. “Cute, but I think you might have hurt your boyfriend by trying too hard to be straight.” she chuckled, shifting her gaze towards Perry’s retreating back and then back to Harry.

She was an efficient worker though, so as she spoke to the customer, she was able to run the card up and gather all the clothes that Perry had stated he wanted to buy. Jennifer knew Mr. van Shrike from a few years back, as he was a valued customer, so she was almost sure that Harry was someone special to Perry. The man wasn’t cheap, per se, but he rarely bought things on impromptu – this time, he just bought the notably high end suits without cross referencing.

With his own card, rather than his company card.

A gift, to his lover then? Most definitely.

“Besides, I’m sure you’ll have plenty to… measure, with Mr. van Shrike later tonight as a… thank you?” her playful tone indicated towards a less innocent indication of exactly what Harry would be measuring on Perry’s body. But with a click of a button and a tap of a key, she handed Harry the flashy Mastercard. “It was nice working with you, Mr. Lockhart, I hope you were satisfied and keep us in mine for future purchases. Have a wonderful evening~”
 
Harry brought his card out - Mastercard, he didn't even fucking have a credit card until he came to L.A. and now he was whipping one out to buy some suits at a high end clothing store - and peered back at Perry as he headed for the door, already absorbed in his ever-present cell phone. Van Shrike spent more time on his phone than most high school girls did.

He looked back to Jennifer,

"He's not my boyfriend." Harry said wryly, habitually threading the card between his fingers like he was preparing to perform a trick, "And I'm pretty sure if he thought anyone believed that, he'd probably throw up in his mouth. Trust me, I'm not his type."

Of course, then he realized that everything had been paid for once Jennifer handed him Perry's card and Harry's eyebrows shot up,

"Wha-?" he began, but then Jennifer's next remark set in and Harry felt himself flush; he ducked his head and took the bags, mumbling, "Yeah, you have a good night too. Geez. You're dirty."

And he headed out the door, clumsily following after Perry; ignoring the fact that he was on the phone, Harry spoke anyways,

"You paid for it?" he asked, stumbling over his words a little, "You didn't need to - I -"

His mouth fell shut, then opened again,

"Thanks. Uh. Thank you, Per."
 
Jennifer didn’t appear to be fazed in the least at the dirty comment. They were Mr. van Shrike’s favorite suit store – of course they wouldn’t be shy about things he was opened with. That, and this was L fucking A.

Outside, Perry was already wrapping up his phone call, making sure that the store was prepared before they got there. It wouldn’t have been anything to take care of really, but since they were on a time crunch, he figured he might as well prepare them. Plus, some of the things that they had there were very… explicit. The blonde hated to admit it, but he wanted to at least try to be considerate of Harry and his experiences.

Thus, the call to have them separate the hardcore shit from the sexy, but nothing that would make Straight Harry scream like a little girl and run out of there like someone was going to ass rape him. Well…

But, that wasn’t important right now.

“That’s good. All right, we’ll be there in a few. Bye.” he snapped his phone shut and rolled his eyes at his partner. Without even caring that Harry might still have a headache, his hand lashed out and gave a soft ‘thump’ against the idiot’s head. He’d like to image that there was a slight sound of a tiny brain being jarred inside. If there was anything there in the first place.

“Diptshit, wait until I’m off the phone next time.” Perry nearly yanked the door off of the rental car off and got in – clearly, Harry better be getting in before he decided to run that delicious ass over.

. . .

Fuck, what the fuck was wrong with him?!

Delicious?

De-fucking-licious?!

Maybe he should just run over the hetero-bastard that was invading his happily gay-for-gays-only mind.

“And I didn’t buy it for you – I bought it for the case and for me. If you’re going to be my assistant, you better stop looking like a hobo. Don’t know why I let you get away with it for so long.” he shook his head, like Harry had committed some kind of sin. Perry started the car up and waited just barely before Harry got the seatbelt on, before he would speed out of the driveway.

Got to love V8’s.
 
Harry actually managed to be caught off guard when the hand collided with his head; the resulting shockwaves actually stopped Harry in his tracks for an instant and he reached up to clutch at his head, letting out a small groan when a sharp ache moved through the gash in his head. Fuck, that hurt.

After a moment, he collected himself enough to get into the car, briefly looking unfocused,

"Right. Of course." Harry said, pulling his seatbelt on just before Perry took off like a bat out of hell; he loved that fucking gas pedal; he rested his head against the window frame again, trying to settle the throbbing in his forehead,

"But thanks anyways. You know. I do appreciate it, even if it was, uh, for the case. The job. The business. Whatever. Still means something to me, at any rate."
 
The verbal appreciation still threw Perry off his game, making him flicker between uncertainty of saying something and just ignoring Harry entirely. In Los Angeles, it wasn’t a completely uncommon thing to hear a thanks here or there. But it was strange to hear it and know that it was truly what the other person felt.

Harry was like that. He was dumb as fuck, but honest and sweet and innocent… everything that just didn’t fit in California. L.A. was going to take a large bite out of Lockhart one day, chew him up and spit him out.

Perhaps – and just maybe – that was the reason why Perry hadn’t suggested for Harry to move out on his own. Chopping his own dick off might have been less painful than living with Harry those first few months. Things were a mess with the street rat, and thank whatever god was listening that van Shrike’s magic still worked in cleaning people up.

Plus, he might – and this could be a long shot of a might – enjoy Harry’s company.

Best not let the dipshit know that though.

So for the entire ride towards the kink store, he kept his mouth shut and his eyes trained on the road. The suits would be delivered to his house – of course they knew where he lived after all the suits he’s bought – so all they had to worry about was finding something that would make Harry look like he was a natural in The Scene.

The store they stopped in front of was a simple building painted a beige shading, with nothing else but a large parking lot and tinted glass doors and windows. “You.” he pointed at Harry as if there was anyone else to talk to in the car. “Wear what they give you and don’t make a fuss.” With that, he got out of the car and headed into the building, briefly wondering if Harry’s ever been in a pornographic store before.

Surely for someone who sees his dick often wouldn’t be terrified of a few fake dicks, right?
 
Harry wasn't a big fan of silence; in his experience, silence had only ever meant terrible things were about to happen and he had thus developed the unfortunate nervous habit of chattering uselessly whenever he suspected things were about to go awry. However, he knew enough to kill that particular tic for the time being because his head was still aching fiercely and he wasn't certain he could take another of Perry's head slaps that day and still be able to stand.

They stopped outside of a brick building and Harry immediately began to chew on the inside of his cheek; places with tinted windows were bad enough, but now Perry was aggressively instructing him and the combination was enough to cause a look of dread to cross Harry's face.

He stayed in the car for several long moments after Van Shrike had exited it, staring at the building, and then at Perry's back. Eventually, he let out a sigh and unbuckled his belt, getting out of the car and heading uncertainly towards the building; he told himself that, all in all, it really couldn't be that bad. He was certain that anything he would encounter inside, he had probably seen before.

And hey, it couldn't be worse than having his balls electrocuted; that was one silver lining he could always look to.
 
Inside the building, there was a large section just for ‘toys’, ranging from classic vibrators to more intense looking ones, the butt plugs to the fucking sofas, and even the fucking machines. Porn films littered the back wall, where a door split the two large sections. The red curtain veiling over the door frame made it look like they were going to enter into a “sneak - ‘n – peek” show or something.

Perry wasn’t one to push – at least, not too hard – but he felt a twitch above his left eyebrow when he realized it took Harry a bit longer than necessary to join him. “What, you’re not scared… are you?” he waited until Harry walked in front of him before he asked that, making sure to loom his face just a bit over Lockhart’s ear.

A smirk spread its way over his lips, both because he found it absolutely fetching for Harry to be skittish at any time of the day – so he was a fucked up individual. Sue him – and because he picked up another habit since he’s realized what he’d like to pound Harry in.

Not violently. That’s nothing new.

He’s talking about into the mattress.

Fuck, he really needed a lay if he was day-dreaming about that with Harry.
 
Despite his piss-poor luck when it came to the fairer sex, Harry had just never frequented porn stores; his forays into them had been limited to the times he had been half-dragged by a buddy, or as a joke for a bachelor's party. Once when he was fifteen, too, and just too damn curious. Ultimately, his vice had always been alcohol rather than sex, mostly because he had learned that the former was actually less likely to kill him than the latter was - and the inside of the store only seemed to drive this point home for him.

For Harry Lockhart, sex had always been simple. It wasn't that he was opposed to exploration, per se, but he just didn't see the point in changing something that was already just fine the way it was - why turn sex into a grand undertaking when vanilla was his favorite flavor anyways?

Embarrassingly, he jumped a little when Perry's voice was levelled over his ear, and he glanced back at his partner, only to discover him standing so close that their faces nearly touched.

"I was actually thinking about ice cream." Harry managed to get out, "And trying not to think about, um, those. Things. There."

He made a broad, vague gesture towards the wall of sex toys, his hand unfortunately waving around the area of the anal toys and knocking a particularly intricate-looking display butt-plug off the wall, which fell to the floor and bounced around a couple of times before he bent over and squeamishly picked it up, tossing it back in place.

"You said something about me - wearing something from here, Perry." Harry added worriedly.
 
For the briefest moment, Perry felt conflicted. Their faces were so close that he had one of two options. To move closer and land an innocently ‘accidental’ kiss, or to move away and lose his intimidating image.

He decided not to move overall, so their faces were ghosting one another’s until he decided that they needed to keep going. With a hand on Harry’s back, he was just about to shove them forward, before his gaze followed towards where the brunette was gesturing at. Harry continued to move without his help anyways, and dear god, when the dipshit leaned down to pick up a butt-plug, Perry almost face-palmed himself.

“Yeah, you’re going to wear something. From here. Where else, dumbass?” the blonde shook his head, flicking his wrist towards the curtained doorway. “Get going before I decided the next thing that drops gets added to your accessory.” he half threatened, though if it did come down to implementing it, he supposed he would have to personally see to it.

It’d be a chore – really.

Pressing his palm against the small of Harry’s back, Perry gave a firm push and attempted to shove Lockhart towards the general direction. He’d make sure there was no room for backing out for Harry, that’s for sure. He didn’t have time to drive all over.

Plus, some part of him might want to see what Harry looks like as a bitch. More so than he usually is, that is.
 
Perry didn't move even when their faces nearly touched from the proximity - Harry assumed that this was because the bigger man didn't want to give him the option of running out of the place, which he was most definitely considering doing.

"I don't know, I guess I was hoping we were just stopping here for you to pick up some controversial home decor before we went somewhere that has distinctly fewer, uh," Harry made another broad gesture, but this time managed to avoid knocking anything over, "Giant rubber fists."

He grimaced at the thinly-veiled threat, talking a half-step when Perry pushed him forward,

"Fuck me." Harry groused to himself, readjusting his hoodie and giving Perry one bewildered look, "Fine. Alright. I'll go in there, but only because this is for a case. This had better be for a case, Perry, and not payback for leaving my shoes in the hallway."

He let out a huff of a breath and continued forward, slipping past the curtain he had been directed towards.
 
Fuck me?

Gladly.

But, business was business, and Harold was his business partner. Fucking with business only leads to terrible, nasty things that don’t go bumping and grinding deliciously in the night. It just doesn’t.

“No, you leaving your shoes in the hallway – which I tripped over – will be overlooked this time. That is, if you can manage this case without getting us in worse shit than we’re already in.” Perry should have just wished for a miracle – it’d be possible compared to asking Harry to do things safely.

The brunette was just a magnet for danger that if Perry didn’t act as a buffer, the dipshit would have landed somewhere in the corner of an alleyway.

Lifting the drapes to walk through the door, he made sure to inch Harry in front of him almost every step. It was like he was herding the other male. Peregrine van Shrike, herder of dumb creatures like sheep and one Harold Lockhart.

Fucking gay.

The room inside was more like a large dressing room, with a few racks of leather clothes and accessories. There was a man standing there, looking no older than a college student, with the Goth-punk look and a name tag that said “Hello! My name is Mark.”

“This him? The staff picked these out – have your pick from these, Mate.” Mark offered Harry, already half recognizing Gay Perry.
 
If his hesitation and shuffling steps weren't obvious indicators, then the look on his face was; it was very clear that Harry Lockhart did not want to be there, and surrounded by an array of shiny PVC and leathers, he felt more unwelcome than Kanye West at the 2011 VMAs. He suddenly found himself wishing for more of the demerol he'd had to use the previous year, because opiates would make this entire thing distinctly less painful.

But there was no chance to escape because he could feel Perry's body heat on his back, informing him that the other man was staying very, very close so as to prevent just that. Of course, Harry was quick and agile when he had to be, but the fact remained that he was off-balance and concussed, and Perry was a lot bigger. He wouldn't put it past Van Shrike to forcibly shove him into the clothes, so he begrudgingly stayed in the room.

However, as Mark offered out a pile of clothing, Harry gave Perry a helpless look,

"You called ahead?" he asked, his voice holding a tinge of accusation before he grimaced at the things in his arms and slouched off to a cordoned off changing area to see if he could even figure out how to put on some of the things he had been handed.
 
“Of course I did.” Perry responded, giving back the same tinge of grimace and not little accusation. Why in pluperfect hell would he not call ahead? Van Shrike did not go shopping without being prepared, and van Shrike did not look foolish while doing anything.

Well, mostly anything.

But with Lockhart these days, it seemed that Perry’s dumb-ass-er-y knew no bounds.

Like that. Making up shit like the dumb fuck usually did.

“It’ll be a little of a squeeze, so don’t worry about that, Mr. Lockhart.” Mark called out to Harry’s retreating back. Such a shy man, not changing in front of other men. Tsk tsk.

So as Harry got dressed, Mark showed Perry all the accessories that could go along with the outfit that the other male picked out. There ranged from collars to whips to cuffs and even a wide range of butt plugs and vibrators. The blonde tilted his head, wondering exactly how extreme Harry would go for the mission. “What do you think you can handle, chief?” he asked, wondering if Harry had noticed the accessories on the table.
 
Harry stared at the pile of shining black fabric - he stared as though it might somehow light the horrible things on fire and remove what had become his obligation to put them on. Of course, knowing Perry, he'd probably force him into flaming pants.

For the second time that day, Harry grimly stripped down to his boxers and picked up a form-fitting piece of clothing that Perry Van Shrike had picked out for him.

"You know, I think I preferred the white-and-pink suit." Harry called through the curtain, scowling as he came to the realization that the skin-tight leather pants were not going to make it up his hips if he was wearing the extra layer. Grimacing, Harry shed the boxers as well, feeling ridiculous standing in just his socks; he pulled the pants up his legs and they went on with a bizarrely silky sensation, and despite the shop employee's remark, the pants may as well have been tailored for him.

It didn't stop him from feeling ridiculous; they fit tight up against his body and left little to the imagination, though there was a small amount of space at his slight waist, forcing Harry to yet again recognize he probably needed to gain a few pounds.

He didn't want to have to try anything else on. Desperately, he didn't want to.

He didn't want to step out in these things either but, glancing at the rest of the pile, he recognized that the pants he was wearing were probably going to give the fullest coverage of anything else in the store. Grumbling, he tugged the tag off the pants and slipped his jeans back on over top of them, having made the decision that he would wear them when he had no choice,

"Swell." Harry said to himself, stepping back out into the store, fully clothed, "Yeah, I've got them, uh, on. Underneath. What do you mean, what I can 'handle'?"

His eyes fell to the pile of accessories, then he let out a gentle:

"Oh."
 
When Harry finally came out of the dressing area – sadly, not the closet – Perry raised an eyebrow at the pants covered legs. No leather was seen except for the strip that wrapped around the slender waist, where the baggy pants didn’t cover as well.

‘Well, that sucks.’ he mentally sighed, keeping a straight face. Or rather, a scowling face.

“Did you try on the others? You didn’t even show us. God, dipshit, I bet you picked the most fucking retarded thing, didn’t you?” he verbally attacked, stepping closer towards Harry as if to pound in a new meaning of fear into the brunette.

Mark, however, stopped him and gave him a flash of a smile. “I’m sure he picked good, didn’t you, Mate?” the worker smiled at Harry, before waving a hand towards the ‘accessories’. “So, which one would you like? No outfit is completely without a few.”

Perry narrowed his eyes at his partner and let his lips stretch into a wicked smirk. “How about a collar and leash. . . maybe even a tail plug for the little bitch.”

The worker just laughed at the implication. “Oh, he’s your pet? Why didn’t you tell me? We’ve got an entire collection line that just came in. Which would you like to look at? Dog, pig, pony, bunny?” Mark spoke as if they were selling tee-shirts rather than BDSM items. He turned innocent eyes towards Lockhart, expecting for the ‘pet’ to just make a sound or something to show off what kind of ‘pet’ he was.
 
Harry wasn't too proud to admit he actually let out the tiniest whimper at some point during the interaction - and who could fucking blame him? He was standing in a porno shop, surrounded by leather and implied sodomy while two men gave him that look.

"I'm sure I haven't committed some - some BDSM faux pas with what I chose," Harry snarked back, not even stepping back when Perry moved towards him this time; over time, Harry had become used to Van Shrike's abuse, but he was starting to feel a little on edge. It probably had to do with the fact he had leather pressing against parts of him he'd never considered putting leather near.

"And I'm not - a pet. Whatever that means here." Harry added lifting an index finger at the store clerk, then waving a hand back and forth between him and Perry, "He and I, we're not - you know. We're partners. Business partners. Whatever. Look, can we go? Let's go."
 
Perry and Mark raised an eyebrow at Harry’s exclamation. Of course, Mark didn’t believe Harry, as some pets did attempt to ‘step up’ from their title. Most of the time, it was to get their masters to put them back in their place. Defiant little bitches, they were.

As for the detective though, he just moved his hand to the side, stepped up closer towards Harry and held up the collar that he had plucked from the stand of accessories. “Right… partner. Well, put this one. You’d look bare without something to fill the gap between your head and your waist.” he demanded, indicating that once at the party, Harry was going to be topless.

Sadly, not crotch-less, because then he could suggest a different kind of collar for a different kind of neck.

Sigh.

“Well, I’ll ring those two up so you can get on your way~” the worker happily stated, eyes lighting up with Perry held out a card towards his direction. Mark took the card and went to charge them, as van Shrike just stood there and stared at the brunette with dead serious eyes.

“Looking good, Chief.” the blonde spoke honestly, giving Harry a ‘once-over’. “So, going to steal up your balls and actually help with this case? Or are you going to back down and fuck up? Because you better tell me now, or you won’t have balls to steal up later.” he stated with a firm conviction that he would take said nuts out of their resting place. As if he or Harry could predict how things turn out, too. But at least having Harry’s word on it would give him something to go off of later if things went good or bad.
 
Harry stared a t the collar as it was dropped into his hand, turning the thing over a few times,

"Funny, you know, I had one just like this for my dog when I was, like, ten." Harry said, watching as the card changed hands again; he was beginning to wonder how many stores knew Perry by name, "Huh. Wow. Disturbing childhood connections."

He quirked an eyebrow at Perry then, shifting his jaw and biting at his lower lip,

"I'd never step down from a case." he said, "We're in this together, right? That's what the whole partner thing is, isn't it?"

He shrugged,

"Just wish you'd be a little more, you know, forthright. I mean, not about my - fuck-ups. You're forthright with that. Just not with information, is all. All you've told me is that I'm supposed to tag along and, for some reason, I need to wear leather to do it. Not, uh, it's not stirring a lot of confidence. That, and I think I've proven my balls are pretty hearty. And conductive."

Mark gave Harry a sideways look,

"It's a long story." Harry mumbled.
 
Huh.

It seemed to hit some kind of key in Perry at Harold’s reply. At first, the detective only picked up Harry as a ‘partner’ so that he would be able to help keep the brunette out of jail and off the streets. Now, he realized that even after all the times Harry could have just packed up and leave – trust van Shrike, there were many times – he didn’t.

Never stepped down from a case? Lockhart was perhaps a better partner than Perry gave credit for, because there were times that Perry stepped down from one. A few times, in fact, but usually that was because he had stronger survival instincts than the other male did.

“Yeah – that’s what the whole partner thing is.” he agreed in his usual sarcastic tone. Best not to let Harry in on his thoughts, least the brunette’s ego gets inflated.

At the information comment, he sighed. Of course he knowingly held back some information a few times, but other times, he’d just assumed that Harry would know. He lived in L.A for fucks sake.

“Harry. We’re going to a club called the Rose Lounge. In Los Angeles.” he stated, as if that explained everything.

It did for Mark though, as he quirked his head to the side while giving Mr. van Shrike back the man’s card. “You mean the one on 5th? That famous BDSM club?”

Yeah… he wondered now if Harry was going to back down.
 
Harry very nearly regretted saying he would never back down from a case, because was just fucking typical, wasn't it? Lockhart's expression remained good-naturedly confused after Perry spoke, but he flinched visibly when Mark piped up, clarifying things for him. For a long moment, he was uncharacteristically silent, then he finally said,

"Ah."

He glanced around the store, at the collar, at the pants he was wearing, and then he sighed,

"I mean, at least it makes things a little clearer. I was kind of starting to wonder if this was just a general - L.A. fashion thing, or - yeah. Rose Lounge. Just sounds, you know, innocuous for a place that -"

He cleared his throat,

"It's a club, right? It'll have to have whiskey. Can't be all bad." Harry said, falling back on optimism to see him through.
 
For the longest moment, Perry thought they broke Harry. It would have seemed so, as Lockhart just stood there, looking lost and dumbfounded. Then again, when did Harry not look like that?

“Yeah, it’ll have whiskey. Don’t drink too much though – I… need you to help me spot Ravan.” he stated, giving Mark a wave of his hand and began to walk towards the exit. “Come on, we need to get going so I can get dressed before we head on to the club. And put the collar on. I’ll assume you know which role you’re in.” only his tone ended with a question hooking on, as he didn’t know how much of this Harry did know.

The other male was like a virgin at times that he wondered if Harry and Harmony ever fucked. Because, well, Harmony fucked everyone.

And he meant everyone.

Thank god he was gay.

After leaving the store, he got in the car and started it up. Perry only waited for Harry to get in and half way seat belted in, before he drove out of the parking lot and nearly ran over anyone in the way towards the condo.
 
"Right. Spot Ravan." Harry repeated, in the tone of one who has no idea what they're saying; his head was still stuck on the BDSM club thing, "Can't I just put the collar on when we get there? I mean, it's not like they're going to know 'oh geez, he just put that on before he stepped in'. Is that - I mean, they're not going to have some sort of telepathy about this sort of thing."

His gentle face twisted just a little at the question,

"Role." Harry repeated, "I - uh. I have a pretty vague knowledge about this sort of thing, and even though I only got as far as grade eleven, I do know how to put two and two together. The collar and the, uh, general -"

He waved in the direction of the store,

"-would make me the, uh, submissive."

He shifted uncomfortably in the seat,

"I can't say I know much more than that. I mean, do I need some sort of BDSM run-down here?"
 
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