A/N - Hi there. This is my first Chicago PD story and I've only seen three episodes of the show (waiting for the box sets for Christmas is practically killing me) but I've been reading some of the fics on here to keep me going until the 25th and this idea popped into my head courtesy of 'Wicked Games' by The Weeknd. (Don't ask me how I got this from that song...) Wanted to get it written and besides, I haven't seen many fics written from Jay's perspective. I never write in first person but I fancied a change.

Be kind and review?

Let Me Love You

"Promise me no strip clubs."

I laugh and kiss her on the forehead. It's a bachelor party. It's Ruzek's bachelor party. I'm pretty sure there'll be at least one strip club involved. "You have nothing to worry about."

"You're better than that," she returns, curling her nose up in disgust at Chicago's more sinful entertainment. I've been in plenty of these places over the past few years and she knows this - the city's shadier characters never tend to hang out in brightly-lit coffee shops, surprisingly enough - but we've been together nearly a year now and her warnings before guys' nights only seem to be becoming more prevalent.

"Lex, you're stressing."

"I just don't get why you have to leave me alone on a Friday night."

"It's not like I go out every Friday," I tell her, pulling my jacket off the hook by her front door. "Besides, it's not every day Ruzek gets married."

Lexi sighs dramatically and I fight the slight rise in anger I feel at her jealousy. I know this guy and he doesn't have the most discerning taste in drinking holes. Whatever club we end up in will no doubt be down some back alley filled with girls working on questionable visas. She really doesn't have anything to be worried about.

"Isn't this like the third girl he's proposed to?"

Yes it is. But unlike the others, I think he actually loves Kim.

"I'm going now," I tell Lexi, who's pouting on her couch and refusing to kiss me. I shrug. She'll get over it tomorrow. "Have a good night."

I shut the door, having grown a little more irritated at her response - or lack of, and make my way down the stairs of her apartment building to my car which is parked out front. It's freezing outside and I pull the leather jacket around my chest, rubbing my hands to keep the numbness out of my fingers even though the car is literally across the street. The harshness of the cold in this city never fails to surprise me; it's almost as though each summer, the heat from the sun lulls me into a false sense of security which is then ripped away around late November, right after Thanksgiving.

I meet the guys at Molly's - our usual hangout after work - for a quick beer before the real drinking starts. I'm a little worried about the pace Ruzek is setting when I reach the table and he's three beers and as many shots down.

"I hope that wallet's filled with dollar bills Halstead," our bachelor shouts as I order a round from Gabriela at the bar."And you've practised the art of giving since last time."

His comment is met by a roar of laughter from the idiots I work with but I shake my head with a grin as Gabriela rolls her eyes.

"They're like three-year-olds," she laughs, setting what she already knows I want down in front of me.

"I'd say that's pretty generous. I was going for two-year-olds," I reply, handing her a couple twenties and not waiting for the change.

The last time Ruzek is referring to is the last time we went to one of these clubs, which, coincidentally, was the last time he got engaged. The guys all made fun of me because I didn't throw any money at the girls, calling me a tightass. It wasn't that at all. Perhaps it's old-fashioned, but throwing money at girls while they dance on stage in barely-there outfits, no doubt to pay their dodgy landlords or feed a heroin habit, isn't my idea of being a gentleman. My mom raised me right. Still, I've been in those places all the same. Maybe I'm just being a hypocrite.

We drink the beers pretty fast and head out into the cold city air. There doesn't seem to be a plan as such but the boss is insisting we go to this weird-looking Irish pub so we do. Nobody complains when he buys the round and we clink our glasses of whiskey together in a cheers to something or other I didn't catch. It's going to be a messy night.

My suspicions are confirmed when the karaoke starts up and Dawson and Atwater get up on stage to blunder their way through Livin' On A Prayer, complete with air guitar. Voight buys another round for us all and I nearly choke on the mouthful of beer I'm downing when he makes his way to the stage as though he's about to arrest someone for murder before he belts out a remarkably tuneful rendition of Sweet Caroline. This night is getting weirder.

X

By 1am, I can barely see straight. We're heading south and I know where the next place on our hitlist is: Bunny's. It's a pretty new strip club and we've never been here before. Or, at least, I've never been here before. Something tells me Ruzek and Atwater might have though.

We make our way to the bar and I grow more uncomfortable as my shoes stick to the carpet and the speakers boom out a tinny version of 'Pour Some Sugar On Me'. I suspect it might have been illegally downloaded and put into a c.d as part of the stripper dance compilation.

It's my round and we all settle on beers in some sort of unspoken agreement that the whiskey will be pretty substandard. The woman behind the bar knocks the caps off of the Sam Adams bottles and holds her hand out before even telling me how much I owe. I pay the $30 and offer a smile I know won't be returned before joining the rest of my colleagues at the table they've set up camp at. It's only at this point that I glance up at the stage. Rusek has seated himself in the middle of the booth and is watching the girl in front of us dance a little off-time. Atwater is looking a little intrigued and even Dawson looks pretty happy. I cast my eyes across to Voight who looks like he's about to bust a blood vessel. Either he's drunk, uncomfortable or pissed at someone. I'd say there's a good chance it's a mix of all three but he's the boss and I keep my mouth shut.

The girl on stage dances a little awkwardly to a couple more songs and I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I know without looking it'll be Lexi. In order not to get the shit ripped out of me by the rest of the guys, I tell them I'm heading to the bathroom (not a total lie) and make my way to the back of the club, taking in the surroundings as I pass various groups cheering and laughing and generally looking like they're having a better time than I am in this place. I kind of feel guilty for being here - not towards Lexi, but towards women in general. When I think about being a kid and wanting nothing more than to be a soldier when I grew up, it makes me wonder what these girls dreamed of. Did they want to be ballet dancers or teachers or vets? Surely at elementary school, nobody dreams of doing...whatever this is. At what point in their lives did this become an option?

My phone vibrates again before I reach the bathrooms but I answer it anyway.

"Where are you?" Lexi practically screeches. I hold the phone further away from my ear and that's when I notice the missed calls icon on the screen. I've missed six.

I sigh and answer. "Lex, I'm out with the guys."

"You're in a strip club, aren't you?"

"We've just got here and all we've done is get a drink."

"You're slurring," she states. "And you're drunk."

Well, yeah. But not the kind of drunk where I don't know what I'm doing or the kind of drunk where I pass out in the bathroom. I tell her this in reference to one night she went out with her friends and I had to pick her up because she was so drunk she couldn't stand. She scoffs and I can tell I've pissed her off even more. I really don't want to fight though, and so I apologise and remind her again she has nothing to worry about.

"I just wanted to check you were okay," she replies, softer this time, and as much as I know that's probably not entirely true, I smile into the phone, even though she can't see it.

"You'll text me when you get home?"

"Of course."

"I love you Jay."

At that, I freeze. It's the first time she's said those words and I'm not sure how to respond. I just know I don't want to tell my girlfriend that I love her in some grotty bathroom of a strip club. Instead, I tell Lexi I'll see her tomorrow and then end the call, figuring I might as well pee while I'm here.

It's when I'm coming out of the bathroom that I kind of stumble over my own feet and end up colliding with someone. I reach out to steady her, looking to apologise but when she looks up at me, the words are lost.

"You okay?" she asks in this raspy sort-of-whisper and I find myself swallowing what feels like a large lump in my throat. I realise my hands are still holding her arms and immediately drop them to my sides.

"Uh yeah." My voice sounds foreign. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

She doesn't make any sort of move to continue on to her destination and I don't know what to say because for some inexplicable reason, she's making me nervous.

"So, you hiding out in the bathroom?"

"Uh, no."

She raises her eyebrows with a small smirk and damn it if she doesn't display the cutest set of dimples.

"Maybe," I add and she laughs a little. "These places make me kind of uncomfortable."

"Really?"

Those eyebrows are raised again and for some reason, I start to elaborate. "I kind of feel like the whole idea of a strip club is a violation of women."

"Well aren't you the feminist."

I'm not sure if she's making fun of me but she still doesn't make any attempt to leave and I feel decidedly less uncomfortable here than I do in front of that stage sitting next to my boss, watching practically naked girls dance.

"Don't you ever just wonder what happened for these girls to end up like this?" I ask her. I'm not sure why. "What did they want to be when they were younger?"

She shrugs and her eyes seem to sparkle with some emotion I can't discern.

"Yo Halstead!" Dawson's gruff voice interrupts and the girl in front of me offers a small smile, displaying those dimples again. I return it and she seems to disappear into thin air. "What are you doing hiding back here? You're missing a good show out there!"

The guy doesn't wait for an answer and I make my way back to the table as he enters the bathroom. Taking my seat next to Voight, I notice the boss seems to have calmed down a little - his face isn't quite so red and twisted into a grimace. Maybe I missed a good dance.

X

Voight and a few others leave by the time we're on our fourth beer inside Bunny's. Atwater's looking a little worse for wear and even Dawson looks like he needs his bed and a shower. Probably in that order.

I'm about to finish my drink and leave too because even though I'm not ridiculously drunk, I already know I'm gonna have the hangover from hell in the morning and I know Lexi isn't going to want to spend the weekend playing nurse. Just as I move to get up, I see the girl from earlier take the stage. I can feel my face forming a frown as I notice her outfit: sheer black blouse which is clearly displaying a lace bra underneath; black shorts and long black boots with lacing all the way from the ankle to the knee. She wasn't wearing that when I talked to her outside the bathroom. It's amazing what the eyes can take in in a couple seconds.

The music cranks up and it takes me a few seconds more to realise that Nine Inch Nails is playing over the sound system; it's harder to hear over the cheers which have grown louder as she makes her way to the pole with the most confident walk I've ever seen. She looks like she owns the stage.

I watch, enraptured as she starts her routine, draping her body around the scuffed metal pole before hooking a leg around it to hold herself in place as her hands begin unbuttoning her shirt. The cheers only increase and as much as I'm disgusted with myself, I want to stay and watch.

"Shit man!" I hear Roman, one of the younger guys gasp. "She's fucking hot!"

I want to hit him for some unknown reason, but I don't. I'm clenching my hand in a fist as she looks up and catches my eye. I know I'm staring and yet I do nothing to look away. She simply cocks a single eyebrow this time, curls one side of her lips up into an almost-smile and then turns her attention back to her blouse, shedding it in one fluid motion. By the time the chorus hits, I don't know what to think, or why I feel like this. What this is, I'm not sure...but it's weird.

The song ends and she leaves the stage, disappearing through a door near the edge.

"I think Halstead just fell in love with the stripper," Ruzek laughs and I shoot him a glare. It doesn't work; he just laughs more and even Olinsky joins in. "You're salivating man."

"Fuck you," I return with a forced laugh, reaching for my jacket. "Guys, I'm out."

I watch Roman down his beer, looking like he might be about to pass out, and instruct the rest of the guys to make sure he gets home alright.

The air outside of the club is even more bitter than it was earlier and I blow into my hands as I scan each end of the alleyway for any sign of a cab. I decide to make my way along the way we came in but when I reach the end, the street's pretty dead. I decide to try the other end, passing the back of the club when I hear raised voices. Slowing to a stop, I listen for the direction they're coming from and figure it's somewhere out the back of Bunny's. I make my way towards the voices and that's when I spot her again: the girl from the club.

She's standing on some steps which look like they lead down from where she works, talking - or, more accurately, yelling - with some guy. I don't like the way he's looming over her and as he reaches to hit her, the cop in me takes over before I've realised what I'm doing.

"Get your hands off her!" I yell, sprinting towards them. The guy runs off and into the alley where I've just come from. I think about chasing him but the girl in front of me is rubbing her arm and besides, what the hell would I even do if I caught up with him?

"You okay?" I ask and she nods, suddenly shy. "Did he hurt you?"

"No," she replies and before I can ask her anything else, the door behind her flies open, revealing the bartender from earlier who looks thoroughly pissed.

"What the hell's taking so long?" the older woman barks, suddenly realising I'm not who she expected to be there. "Who are you?"

"Jay. I just came to-"

"-Ask for directions," the girl cuts in, widening her eyes at me.

"For where?" the older woman barks again.

"Uh, anywhere I'm likely to get a cab." It's not strictly untrue.

"Try Uber," comes the unhelpful reply, before, "Where'd he go?" This, she's directing at her employee.

She just shrugs. "He said he couldn't do it."

"Then you'd better get back inside and earn some more," the older woman says before turning her attention to me. "You saw nothing."

I'm not sure what the hell I've seen but I know it's nothing good and I also know from the way the girl is holding her arm that she's hurt. Before I can say or do anything though, her employer - Bunny, I'm guessing - is barking again.

"Now, Erin."

She doesn't even look at me as she turns and follows the command, shutting the door behind her. I wait a few minutes in case she comes back out again but she doesn't and I figure that standing outside the back entrance of a seedy strip club at close to 3am probably isn't the smartest move. I decide to make my way back along the alley to the street, ordering an Uber as I go. The Prius arrives in minutes and takes me back to my building at the more-than-reasonable price of $14.64, and I tip the driver before searching my back pocket for my key.

Tiredness hits instantly as I close my apartment door behind me and flick off the lights in turn, barely removing my clothes before I fall into bed, pulling the covers up and over my chest. Inexplicably, my mind settles on an image from earlier in the evening - Erin (assuming that's her real name - you can never quite tell) outside of the bathroom, raising her eyebrows and showing off her dimples. The image then flickers to her up on the stage before a flash of her outside of the club with that guy takes over and I drift off, wondering whether she really will be okay. Somehow, I doubt it.