kind of spec fic based on a crack-y headcanon I’ve had since we found out about the alternate/cursed identities, further spurred on by the odd title for 7x05 and the enablers. muchas gracias to the amazing @optomisticgirl for looking this over!
completely gratuitous. 1.5k.
Backstage was so poorly lit that eyes were nearly useless. It was just as well—he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to see what was surely just a brick wall, chipped paint peeling away, and a floor with cracked tiles he could feel shift under his shoes.
Loss of vision meant the other senses took over; he could hear the high-pitched, mostly feminine squeals of the overzealous crowd; smell the booze wafting off them and from where it was likely spilled over sticky tabletops; feel the heavy pulse of the music booming through the beams of the building and shaking him where he stood.
He’d heard this same song way too many times from this same spot. The singer’s repeated invitation for an unnamed person to jump on his saddle was starting to fade out, telling “Hook,” as he was known around here, that it was almost showtime.
What little light there was dimmed to a green glow as the cowboy guy—Butch or Billy or something equally stereotypical; he’d never bothered to learn the guy’s name—left the stage in just a stetson and assless chaps, nodding while strolling past.
He ran his hands down his tight leather pants, checking one last time to make sure everything was in place and giving the workers on stage a bit of time to dash around collecting the dollar bills that gave Greenbacks Bar & Lounge its name.
Then the strains of a slowed-down version of a John Cale piece began to play and a hush fell over the crowd. He smirked at the reaction; he did every night, but it was something that always amused him, and made it that much easier to play the role of a cocky pirate captain.
As soon as he took the stage, the audience erupted and cash started flying. Some panties, too, if he wasn’t mistaken. It was all a blurred confetti coming from the crowd around him as he stalked down the catwalk-like stage.
He still wasn’t entirely sure how mild-mannered Officer Rogers had become the main attraction at a semi-seedy strip joint under the guise of Captain Hook, but he wasn’t about to argue it. Not when it broke up the solitary monotony of his days, and not when it was so oddly liberating.