A/N: Yet another in my RotG Kinkmeme fill series.


It had been a long week. Work, eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep, work, eat, sleep. The constant ebb and flow of life. Jack hated it. It was boring as all get-out. But then Christmas happened, and it snowed, and now it was New Year's Eve. The snow had piled up to the point that anyone who wanted to go anywhere had to walk. So he walked to the NightLight, the local nightclub.

It wasn't much to look at on the outside, but the music was worth it. DJ Moon always had the place pumping with loud music, pulsing with subwoofers, and flashing with lights. It was somewhat high class in that there was a relatively nice bar on the balcony overlooking the dance floor and there were some private rooms on the third floor reserved for VIPs, those with money, and those too drunk to be let out on the street in good conscience.

DJ Moon built the place about five years ago and it had quickly become the favorite haunt for young people all over. Loyal customers, like Jack, didn't have to wait in line to get in: just a brief flash of a legitimate photo ID and the Nightlighter member pass and he was in.

He immediately took the steps up to the balcony pulling out his driver's license and a bundle of cash and took a seat at the bar. It didn't take long or the jolly young bartender to move over to him.

"Frost, welcome back. Usual, yes?" he asked in his heavy Russian accent and giving his usual pat on the back.

"Naw, gimme something new. I plan on have the hangover of the century to welcome the new year," he replied with a bright smile.

The jolly man laughed loudly before beginning to pour the latest of his alcoholic inventions. "I call this The Guardian. Should be giving you buzz in seconds."

Jack took the proffered glass with a nod. "You're my man, North."

North smiled hugely. "I am everyone's man."

Jack chuckled and took a sip of the alcoholic drink and immediately felt giddy. "Damn!"

The Russian laughed once more. "Your face. You should see-" He broke off the continue laughing at Jack's expense.

After finishing the drink, which took a while because poor Jack could only manage a sip at a time, the young man pushed away from the bar and with a wink at North, head back down to the dance floor. Hopefully he'd dance the new year in then collapse from a hangover. And maybe if he was incredibly lucky, he'd get laid.

He didn't bleach his hair white on his birthday for nothing. He turned 21 years old on the 21st of December and by golly he was going to live it up. College and life could wait. The party started now.