Black Velvet

"Back off, Black," Kung Jin warned, assuming a fighting stance as Erron Black drew nearer and nearer, yet the Shaolin monk was dismayed to find that a sliver of anxiety had accidentally crept into his tone.

To his even bigger dismay, the gun-slinger seemed to sense this. Narrowing his dark-blue eyes, Erron stopped in his tracks and remarked lowly, "Think I'm gonna hurt you, kid? I wouldn't think of it."

"Yeah, threatening to shoot me and disarming me sure as hell aren't indicators of trying to kill me, let alone trying to hurt me," Jin barked.

"Touchy, aren't you?" Erron murmured, raising an eyebrow. "You'll be wanting a stiff drink to calm your nerves."

"What I want is for you to give me back my chakram and leave me alone, you trigger-happy raccoon!"

"Hmph, like I'll honestly do that after hearing you sass me," retorted the former Earthrealmer, frowning behind his mask.

Then, to Jin's consternation, Erron took the chakram and hooked it onto the back of his belt, where it dangled next to his numerous sand-grenades. Giving it a tug to make sure it was hooked on properly, he looked back up at the agitated, younger man. "Don't give me that look, Junior – it's not going anywhere."

He paused. "Neither are you."

"What do you want from me, Black?" Jin growled; his animosity for the other man was obvious.

Erron shrugged. "Like I said, I could do with some company. Drinking isn't something that should be done alone, 'less you got some serious problems."

His eyes quickly darted up and down the Shaolin monk's body. "Is that why you're here, kid?"

Jin's face flushed a vivid rose-red colour (why, damn it, why?!), but he replied heatedly, "How many times do I have to tell your deaf ass that I don't drink bloody alcohol? I'm Shaolin, and the Shaolin don't drink."

"Apparently the Shaolin doesn't refrain from swearing," the gun-slinger tutted, "unless that's the liquor talking."

"No way, cowboy, it's me you're hearing," Jin returned, exasperated with the other man's calm demeanour and nonchalant remarks.

"I can believe it." Erron's eyes travelled once again up and down the length of Jin's body, albeit slowly this time round, and the younger man felt an uncomfortable burning sensation in his chest, enveloping his heart in a painful, vice-like grip.

What the hell is he looking at me for?

Before he could call the him out on his wandering gaze, he watched as the cowboy suddenly turned around to face the bartender, who was preparing his order with shaky hands, and said, "Barkeep, you're taking a long time with my drink."

"N-no, no, sir," stammered the bartender, nearly spilling the glass's contents. "I-i-it's nuh-nearly finished."

"Sure about that?" A flash of gold, and once more the barrel of a revolver was aimed at the other man's forehead.

"Y-y-yes, sir," the bartender's voice was a whimper. "O-one m-muh-more m-minute."

"A minute?"

The tip of the barrel was cold to the touch, even against the hot and sweaty brow of the barkeeper, who nearly dropped the alcoholic preparation altogether as Erron leaned over the counter to press the weapon against him, his fingers ready to pull the trigger. Gulping and praying inwardly to whatever Higher Power who was listening to him at that moment in time, the bartender squeaked:

"H-h-half a minute, sir! Th-that's wh-what I meant t-to say! I-it'll be r-ready in half a-a-a minute!"

For a whole five seconds, the gun-slinger stared in silence at the bartender, who was ready to be buried into his grave. Then, without a word, Erron lowered his gun, holstered it and murmured:

"Make it twenty seconds, and I'll consider giving you a tip."

Turning his back on the frenzied bartender, the former Earthrealmer fixed his attention on Jin, with yet another unimpressed expression gracing his features. "Is the service always lousy here in Earthrealm, Junior?"

"Geez, and you wonder why I wanna get out of here," Jin muttered in response, fixing the cowboy with a steely look. "You shouldn't have threatened him like that, Black. He hasn't done anything wrong to you."

Errron did not bat an eyelid.

"If you're so torn up about it, you should've stopped me, kid," he drawled.

"Stop you? I –"

"You're Shaolin, you said so yourself," Erron cut in, striding forward, forcing the younger man to back away a few steps again. "You looked like you could have gone a few rounds with me earlier – hell, even without your little toy, you could have taken me on. What made you change your mind?"

"I could have busted your –"

"But you didn't," Erron emphasised, not breaking his stride. "So why not?"

So close was he getting to Jin, that the Shaolin monk could make out the little details that made up his appearance: the faded red poncho with its easy-to-miss needlework where there had been tears; the golden bullets that made up the bandolier encircling his hat, all polished to perfection; the tally-mark-shaped scars that adorned his muscular arms, featuring prominently on the left arm, especially …

How did those get there?

"A story like that can only be told over a couple of beers."

Jin was startled at the sound of Erron's voice interrupting his thoughts, even more so when he looked up from scars and found the perpetrator's dark-blue eyes staring right into his face. His cheeks immediately attained a rosy hue (seriously, Jin, what is your problem?!).

"I'm not interested, Black," he lied, daring himself to stare straight back. "Besides, you'll never be able to get me to taste a single drop of alcohol, no matter how hard you try and convert me."

Erron cocked his head to the side.

"Is that a challenge?"

Jin could not help but smirk.

"If it's synonymous with "Erron Black making an epic-fail of himself again", then yeah, I guess you could call it that," he tartly replied.

The former Earthrealmer regarded the Shaolin monk with narrow eyes. Those orbs, camouflaged by that raccoon get-up, was a deep, dark-blue colour that reminded Jin of an ocean before the storm hit, more azure than an uncut lapiz-lazuli …

Jin, the voice in his head screamed at him, it's bad enough that you were blushing in front of the guy for no apparent reason – now you're writing poetry about him and his skunk-panda-eyeballs? You're friggin' worse than Takeda.

"S-sir?"

Erron tore his blue gaze away from Jin to face the bartender again, who stood behind the counter with an uneasy expression.

"Finished, barkeep?" the gun-slinger asked.

The bartender nodded quickly. Laying down a coaster on the counter, he put a tall glass of alcohol over it. The top half of the beverage was stout, dark-brown bordering on burgundy in colour with a layer of foam on the surface; the bottom half was pale ale, a concentration of angry amber and citrine colours.

Again, Erron sauntered over to the bar-counter, leaning down to inspect the beverage from all angles.

Speaking of nice angles … wait, what? WHAT?

Finally, standing up straight and looking at the bartender, Erron nodded.

"Good," he said. "Now come closer, so I can give you a tip."

He reached into his trouser pocket, apparently digging around for money. Biting his lips, the shaky bartender drew nearer, watching as this cowboy character withdrew his hand from his pocket and –

Ka-POW!

The bartender disappeared behind the counter, slumping to the floor in an unconscious heap.

Jin was gaping at Erron, who unclenched his fist and rubbed his knuckles – no money after all. "You punched him."

"Very perceptive, kid," replied Erron airily.

"You could have killed him!"

"Is that an observation, or a request that came too late?" the former Earthrealmer inquired, raising his eyebrows in mock surprise.

Jin growled. "You know damn well what I meant, Black."

Erron merely shrugged his shoulders. "Can't please everybody, I suppose."

"Now hold on just a minute –!"

"Relax, Junior," Erron purred, removing his hat and placing it on the counter. Smoothing his soft-looking, brown-blonde locks, he continued, "I know what you meant. Just be grateful that I didn't shoot him."

He chuckled as he touched the lips of the glass with an index finger. "Would have been hilarious to have seen the look on your face if I did."

Jin scowled at him. "Damn you."

Erron ignored the jibe. Instead, his eyes fell upon the jukebox sitting near the door, and then, without looking at the Shaolin monk, he asked:

"Got any spare change on you?"

Jin almost snorted upon hearing the request.

"You work for Kotal Kahn. I thought you made a million bucks maintaining the law in Outworld. Or did you use up all your coins to kill people?"

Did you even bring money at all? he asked himself, his thoughts lingering back to the out-cold bartender.

Erron rolled his eyes.

"I highly doubt that the jukebox will take any Outworld currency," he replied.

For some odd reason or another, it was only at this point of this bizarre meeting that Kung Jin realised what was happening: he, a non-alcoholic Shaolin monk, was alone with, and having an equally-bizarre conversation with, Erron "Money first, shoot second" Black in the middle of an empty bar, whose proprietor was pretty much down for the count.

And now Black wants to listen to some music?

Is this what it feels like to be drunk? Or high? Or both?

This is the kind of stuff that should happen to Cassie, not me.

Cha-ching!

The sound of the cash register opening brought Jin back to reality. His mouth contorted into a frown as he watched Erron pull out some silver coins, leaving one out and pocketing the rest.

"Didn't take you for a thief, cowboy," he commented.

"Takes one to know one, kid," came the retort.

Jin very nearly wanted to cuss the older man out for that statement – although he had gotten over his thieving past, he was not proud of it – but he was stopped short when Erron reached up behind his head and, with dexterity that had been acquired from years of twirling those guns, unclasped his mask and removed it …

By the Elder Gods …

… revealing the lower half of Erron Black's face.

That's the face of the man who's been bantering with me for the last five minutes?!

"Why, Junior, you look as if you've never seen another man's mouth before," were the words that came rolling out of the former Earthrealmer's exposed lips, which were pulled into an amused smile. Gently massaging his smooth, sturdy jaw-line and running his fingers lightly over his angular cheekbones, he added in his clear baritone, "Close your mouth, boy, before you swallow a fly."

Without a second thought, Jin did as he was told, too stunned by the appearance of Erron's entire countenance.

He looks … human.

Indeed, without the mask, Erron did look less like a gung-ho cowboy ninja and more like the Earthrealmer that he used to be many years before he followed the money-trail. Surprisingly, he looked younger than the Shaolin monk had expected: he could have fallen anywhere between mid-20s and the early-30s.

Not too far away from my age …

Picking up his drink and taking a large sip, Erron hummed with pleasure as he savoured the beverage's aromatic flavour, a satisfied smile gracing his features. Jin had found out in his research that Outworld was not exactly famed for its liquor; even the infamous Bo 'Rai Cho visited Earthrealm to sample its spirits rather than drink any of what Outworld had to offer.

I'll bet that's why Black came out this way for one drink.

"You're awfully quiet, kid," the gun-slinger murmured, peering over his glass at the younger man. "A penny for your thoughts?"

He patted his pocket, which clang-clanged! "I've got plenty."

Jin nearly slapped himself for being caught staring (what is there to stare at anyway, Jin, you fool?). Instead, trying his damndest to ignore the familiar constriction that erupted in his chest with full-force, he huffed, "Why don't you take your stolen pennies and shove it up your –"

"Guess I'll just use the penny on the jukebox," Erron cut him off, taking another sip before taking the coin that he had left out and walking over to the jukebox.

A Wurlitzer model, and the gaudier descendant of the phonograph that Erron would have seen in the old days, it was like the one that inhabited bars and ice-cream parlours during the 1950s. In this particular joint, it was only ever used during the times when people got really intoxicated (Jacqui nearly broke the thing, trying to get it to work).

Erron Black was not drunk, but so strange was his actions, Jin thought, that he might as well be drunk.

I can imagine the scene: "Hey, Jin, where'd you go last night?" "Nowhere special, Cass. Went to that bar you like, met Erron Black – he had a drink, we chatted, played some tunes on the jukebox, nothing major."

Unbeknownst to Jin, there was more to than just "playing some tunes" that was to come.

"Let's see …" muttered Erron, reading the labels on the jukebox's buttons. Over the years, patrons of the bar had vandalised the various letter and number combinations with the names of the songs and artists that the apparatus could play. The cowboy's eyes drifted over each title, until …

"Aha," he murmured. "Gotcha."

He inserted the coin into the coin-slot and pressed the button that would play his song.

The machine whirred into action. It searched for the chosen record, found it and placed it into the player. The needle hit the vinyl, and then –

The short pull of guitar-strings, followed by a steady bass beat and the blue rock-infused rhythm of a bass and snare drum combination, reverberated throughout the bar.

Tapping his booted foot to the music, Erron swivelled around, his eyes falling on a bemused-looking Jin.

"Care to dance, Junior?"

Now to say that Jin was shocked at hearing the request was truly a big, big, BIG understatement.

He … Black … did not … just … ask me … to dance …

"You're kidding me," he managed to answer, gob-smacked.

"I kid you not," Erron retorted, taking his third sip for the evening before walking towards the Shaolin monk. "Dance with me."

"With you?" repeated the younger man, wondering if he was really hearing all of this.

The burning constriction in his chest was strong now …

"Yeah, with me," the gun-slinger affirmed, smirking a little. "If you don't wanna drink with me, then you're gonna dance with me."

Before Jin could give the older man a piece of his mind, those tanned, tally-marked arms reached out and encircled his waist once more. Jin had barely time to yelp when he felt himself pulled forward and pressed up against the chest of the cowboy.

Getting his bearings, he looked up at Erron with a flaming-red face. "What the hell do you think you're doing, you jerk?!"

"Leading," answered Erron, his tone so low that the hairs on the back of Jin's neck stood up.

What is he doing to me …?

"Relax your body, Junior," those lips whispered into his ear, like a hot, sultry wind in the desert. "Put your arms around my neck. Makes it easier for you to move."

To Jin's alarm, he obeyed.

Ever so carefully, he placed his arms around Erron's neck, the ends of his hair brushing lightly against his wrists. The heat that emanated from the older man's muscular frame was enough to make him feel faint, but the mere fact that their skin was touching …

… well, let's just say that it was a good thing that Erron was supporting him, otherwise Jin would have been on the floor, dead to the world.

Satisfied with the movement, the former Earthrealmer tightened his hold, his hands resting on the base of the Shaolin monk's back.

"That's it," he murmured before he began to sway their bodies together as the first, crooning verse was sung:

Mississippi in the middle of a dry spell
Jimmy Rogers on the Victrola up high
Mama's dancin' with baby on her shoulder
The sun is settin' like molasses in the sky

"Since when do you know how to dance, cowboy?" Jin mumbled, looking everywhere but at Erron.

It was difficult, given that their hips were practically touching as they moved from side to side.

"I've lived a long time to learn how, kid," Erron replied casually, leading them backwards.

"If my friends could see me now," Jin muttered under his breath. "Dancing with a friggin' mercenary …"

"Lucky you," the reply was a purr as Erron grabbed his glass and drank.

The boy could sing, knew how to move, everything
Always wanting more, he'd leave you longing for

Black velvet and that little boy's smile
Black velvet with that slow southern style
A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees
Black velvet, if you please …

The slow bass and guitar were intoxicating to Jin's ears, and the drum's intense volume matched that of his heartbeat; as his eyes made contact with Erron's, it nearly burst.

"You needn't look so frightened, kid," the former Earthrealmer drawled, pressing his thumbs into Jin's back.

It was as if electricity shot through his body. The younger man moaned (by the Elder gods, I can't believe this is happening to me!), and he buried his face into Erron's chest; he could hear the other man's heartbeat, steady and low like the bass.

Up in Memphis, the music's like a heatwave
White lightening, bound to drive you wild
Mama's baby's in the heart of every school girl
"Love me tender" leaves 'em cryin' in the aisle

"C'mon, kid, up and at 'em," Jin heard the gun-slinger say before those fingers – chilled from the drinking glass – cupped his chin and lifted it up so that they were looking at each other. "Dancing isn't a lonely sport, either."

He pushed their hips together, eliciting yet another moan from the Shaolin monk.

Trying to regain his breath, Jin looked up at Erron with burning eyes and blazing cheeks.

"You're doing this on purpose," he hissed.

"But you can't get enough," Erron simply stated, picking up his glass again.

The way he moved, it was a sin, so sweet and true
Always wanting more, he'd leave you longing for

Black velvet and that little boy's smile
Black velvet with that slow southern style
A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees
Black velvet, if you please …

His lips were coated in an amber colour, and out of them he spoke over the guitar riff:

"You could have ran away, Junior. You could have unhooked your weapon right now and we could have gotten down to fight. You could have saved that pathetic barman a whole lot of misery. You could have stayed away from this place, and we would never have met tonight.

"And yet, here you are … what could you do now?" he finished, his dark-blue eyes searching Jin's face for an answer …

Every word of every song that he sang was for you
In a flash he was gone, it happened so soon …
What could you do?

… and for the life of him, Kung Jin did not know what to say.

But even if he wanted to say something, Erron never gave him a chance.

Tilting his head, Erron Black pressed his lips against Jin's.

It was truly as if Raiden had sent down a bolt of lightening to strike him.

He's kissing me? Sweet mother of the Elder Gods, Black's KISSING me?!

And despite a part of him crying out at him to break the kiss and get away from the man, Jin gave into the desire that had been cocooning in and constricting heart …

The very same desire he tried to fight for the last few weeks since he first encountered Erron Black …

The same desire that drew him here to the "stupid-ass dump" in the first place – and kept him there to the point that he wanted to fall to his knees …

… and kissed the other man back.

Black velvet and that little boy's smile
Black velvet with that slow southern style
A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees
Black velvet, if you please!

For a man who had attained a hardened exterior over the years, Erron's lips were soft to the touch.

They were also sweet as Jin tasted the aromatic amber liquid. The beer tasted vaguely of hops and malt, but for the Shaolin at that moment, nothing could have tasted any better nor sweeter.

Black velvet and that little boy's smile
Black velvet with that slow southern style
A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees
Black velvet …

If you please …

There were no caresses, no sliding of the tongues, no hip-pushing as Erron and Jin kissed – no. All it was – all it would be – was just a prolonged kiss on the lips.

It was not long before Erron withdrew as the song reached its climax, the music surrounding them once more. His mouth curved into a smile as Jin's face practically shone.

"Enjoy that, kid?" he asked.

Jin nodded. "Didn't take you for a good kisser, either, raccoon-face."

Erron rolled his eyes, but he slowly ran his hands up and down the length of Jin's back as he drawled, "You do realise that I won, right?"

"Won what?" the Shaolin monk asked, trying his best to contain himself, those touches were killing him …

"The challenge," replied Erron airily. "I made you taste alcohol."

Jin raised a bemused eyebrow. "No, you didn't."

"I did, just now."

"But you didn't, I –"

Jin stopped in his tracks when the penny dropped on him.

"When you kissed me …" he breathed, remembering the beer that had tainted Erron's lips. As he spoke, the taste of stout mixed with pale ale lingered in his mouth.

The gun-slinger nodded.

"I win."

And then the jukebox came to a stop, and so did the spell.

"You jerk!" cried Jin, breaking away from Erron. "You tricked me! Ooh, I could kill you!"

"Too late for that, kid," replied the cowboy nonchalantly as he finished up the last of his drink. "Besides, you enjoyed the kiss, and I'm sure that you liked the drink, too, now that you've gotten a taste of it."

He put down the empty glass, grabbed his mask and quickly clasped it back onto his face. He picked up his hat and, placing it on his head, turned to look at a fuming Jin. Once more, his eyes bore the emotions that his concealed mouth could not convey; they were sparkling with amusement.

"Well, Junior, it's been a pleasure," he murmured. "Next time we're going to have a drink proper."

"Next time, I'll knock your head proper," the younger man muttered.

Erron chuckled. He took hold of Jin's hand, and, unhooking it from his belt, placed his chakram into it.

"See? Told you it wasn't going anywhere."

"Better get out of my sight before I shove it down your throat," Jin grumbled, his other hand tracing the scars on Erron's left arm. "I'll add to those tally-marks of yours."

"Next time," the former Earthrealmer whispered before squeezing Jin's fingers, tipping his hat, turning on his heels and –

"Hey Black, when's next time?"

"Hmm?"

Erron stopped and turned around, his eyebrows raised as he looked at Jin.

"When's next time?" the young Shaolin monk asked again.

To his eyes, he could swear that a smile lay behind Erron Black's mask.

"Soon, Jin," he answered before walking out the door.

Leaving Kung Jin to wonder how the heck he was going to explain any of this to General Blade and the guys.

It was a Friday night, and Johnny Cage decided to take the team out for drinks at the bar.

Kung Jin sat next to him and Cassie, whilst Jacqui and Takeda sat in the opposite seats. They were all laughing and enjoying their drinks, but Takeda could not help but notice that Jin was avoiding the gaze of the bartender with the bandage on his face, who was doing the same and not making eye-contact with him.

"Something the matter, Jin?" his friend asked. "You kinda look freaked out by the barman."

"Probably thinks that the barman will serve him alcohol or something," joked Cassie.

"Don't worry, Jin-baby, we'll protect you!" said Johnny, winking at him.

Everyone laughed; Jin joined in, too, albeit uneasily as he sipped his soda.

He did not have the heart to tell them about what happened a few days ago in that joint.

Nor did he have the heart to tell them why he insisted on paying the bartender a little extra money, money which matched the cost of a Half and Half unaccounted for in his cash journals.

And nor did Kung Jin have the heart to tell them that somebody had left him a couple of Earthrealm pennies outside his room, along with the name of a nondescript bar and a date on a note.

What could you do?

A/N: And it is done! Thanks to everyone who faved, followed, reviewed and/or read this story - it was my first MK story, and I was ecstatic to see it so well-received, as well as hear that the Erronjin ship is sailing. I plan to make some more E/J stories in the future, so pop in occasionally - I'm planning to write a multi-chapter story wherein, in the interests of maintaining peace between Earthrealm and Outworld, Kotal Kahn and his peeps and the gang in Earthrealm try to assimilate each other's cultures. It'll be fun!

Reviews are welcome!

*~AI07~* :)