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om_mainRight after catching his breath, Felix dives back into the party fun. He indulges in literary fantasy, and presents, with Pietro. Then in literary presents, and fantasy, with Johnny. And, finally, manages to get someone to give him copious drinks!
A tiny gasping squeak heralded Felix's arrival in Pietro's vicinity when he caught sight of the other boy's outfit. He had been fluttering from one friend to another in a dizzying swirl of excitement, delight, and bubbling chatter. In fact, he was like a completely different person, far from the shy haunting ghost that was normally Felix during big parties. Breathless and bright-eyed, he soaked up attention and cheer from his friend like a little sponge wrapped in violet and cinnamon plaid, embellished with an emerald feather tucked in his buttonhole, unabashedly clashing.
"You look just like Nick Carraway!" Felix declared. "Nick could be blond, you know, he never says in the book. You look beautiful!"
"Why thank you," Pietro said, acting the part (and looking a lot less fucking awkward than Toby Maguire in it, thanks). He lifted his martini in a small toast to the birthday boy, grinning. God, he loved Felix's sense of fashion so much--it was so quirky and... actually, the guy looked kind of hot, at the moment, even—right down to the out-of-place yet very Felix feather. Wow, go Felix. "You're looking awfully lovely yourself--no one else could carry off that amazing suit half as well. If I'm Nick, you're Amory Blaine, wandering around the Princeton campus looking beautiful and romantic. Happy birthday, Felix."
Felix giggled unashamedly, delicate fingers curled before his mouth as if he might try to catch the sound. Of course he had sought out Fitzgerald's other works in the library as soon as they had finished Gatsby for English, and found a far more engaging hero. "Thank you!" he exclaimed, sincerely, drawing himself up a little straighter. More than a year of safety and proper nutrition had rewarded him with a couple of extra inches, though he was still far shy of Pietro's height.
"I didn't know what to think when Caius bundled me into this," he laughed, glancing down at himself with a brush of those genetically-decorated hands. "I can't believe they've been planning all of this. I can't believe Caius kept it secret. I just... I sort of can't believe all of it," Felix gushed breathlessly.
“I know that feeling intimately,” Pietro said with a grin, gaze sliding from the adorable red-head before him and finding a certain tall, red-eyed southern boy in the melee of revelers before returning to Felix again. “Glad to see you’re making the most of it, though, you handsome devil. They did a hell of a job engineering it, but I’m not surprised, considering who we’re talking about.
“Ready for presents?” Pietro waggled his eyebrows for effect.
"What?" Felix blinked, looking truly bewildered. Caius would have said something artful and perfect, but Felix hadn't yet learned to school his responses like that. He hadn't thought there could be more than the luscious new suit and the surprise celebration just for him. Pietro -- most popular guy in the school Pietro -- pouring on the compliments had distracted him enough that the offer of presents caught him completely off guard, all wide-eyed and fluttery-fingered.
“Well, I don’t wanna rush you if you’re not quite at the ‘opening presents’ stage of your revelry yet,” Pietro said, instead of waggling, now cocking one platinum eyebrow high. “But then, rushing is kinda my thing. And actually they’re not even wrapped, so there’s that.”
He sipped at his martini with one hand and reached into a pocket with the other.
Felix's gaze dipped immediately toward Pietro's pocket, even though he felt a little greedy doing so. Gifts were in the same strange realm for him as birthday parties, and he couldn't really fully quell his wonder at all of it. "Well, I... I wouldn't want to tear you from your adoring fans later in the evening," he managed to say with some measure of grace and politeness.
“Adoring fans—I’m gonna use that one,” Pietro said with a chuckle. Okay, he had one adoring fan, maybe, but that was more than he’d ever expected so he’d take it. In his jacket pocket, his fingers found a carefully folded up silk scarf in a fantastic paisley that had immediately reminded him of Felix. Continuing the tradition of Pietro handing over interesting accessories and/or small clothing items, since they seemed to please Felix as much as they pleased him.
He pulled it out with a little flourish to let it unfurl in the air. Drama! “Number one. For your personality.”
Delighted, both with the scarf and with the flourish of presentation, Felix pressed his hands together with a tiny gasp. "Oh! My personality adores it," he assured Pietro breathlessly, taking a half-step closer. As if unsure of the etiquette, he glanced with a question in his sparkling eyes as he reached out to accept the scarf. "So does everything I have to wear. It's gorgeous!"
“I’m glad you think so,” Pietro said earnestly, though his grin was thousand-watt. He passed the scarf over easily, then switched his drink to that hand and reached into the other pocket. “And for your not-tattoos—which you know by now I love...”
With a similar flourish, Pietro pulled out a green lace-scarf. “Because how could I not think of you when I saw it?” And frankly, Pietro thought flaunting them a little more might be a good thing. Of course they might draw attention outside, but around the house, and then in a year or two when he looked a little older… damn hot, seriously.
Felix carefully draped the first scarf over his arm, admiring it with the tips of his fingers, when he was caught flat-footed by the appearance of a second present. He hadn't even been expecting one, and there were two? For a few seconds, Felix looked like he couldn't decide if he should blush, or cry, or give Pietro a flying unexpected hug like the one he'd sprung on Caius earlier in the party, much to many of the guests' surprise. He stammered, not sure what to say, and more than a little overwhelmed by the never-ending generosity of his schoolmates.
"You're... but I... " Felix's hands fluttered, but he stepped up again to accept it, wishing desperately that he could recover himself and think of something halfway intelligent to say. All he could manage was a shy, but earnest, "Thank you."
God, you'd think he'd handed the kid a set of car keys--and seeing as he couldn't really afford anything beyond a couple of cute accessories, Pietro couldn't have been more pleased with the reaction. He chuckled. "You are very, very welcome. We'll do a fashion show someday."
"We should!" Felix agreed breathlessly, twining the lacy leaves around his fingers, admiring how they complemented the bold markings on his hands. "That, I could do. Convincing acting in a play, probably not." A school runway would be as close as Felix could get to being a real model, given his intense distaste for cameras of all kinds.
Felix looked up at Peitro again, having found his tongue once more. "You're so sweet to feed my scarf addiction," he said, his eyes fairly dancing, his smile small and sweet. If he actually knew how vulnerable and pretty he could look when he did that, it could be a deadly weapon.
Pietro was thinking something very much like that, grinning hard enough to split his face. “Well, it’s an addiction we share, what can I say. Besides, us pretty boys deserve pretty things.” He winked. If his gaze flicked up to Remy again, well. That was prettier than Pietro deserved, but he wasn’t gonna tell Remy that.
You couldn't really not notice the way Pietro was drawn to Remy, gravitating toward him whenever they were apart for awhile. Philosophically, Felix was pleased that people he knew seemed happy together. Viscerally, instinctively, it sparked an undefinable nervousness that he worked hard to quell. He wanted more than anything to be normal, and that meant not shying away from other peoples' romances like a wounded animal.
"I might ask someone pretty to dance later," he agreed, as if testing the words out for the first time. "You should too."
Occasionally it was more annoying than not to have superspeed—at least, when Pietro was trying not to see things people didn’t want him to see in their faces and bodies. Expressions were too easy to read when slowed down, but honestly, Pietro didn’t want to read them. Still, Felix seemed okay in the end, and that was all that really mattered. As usual, Pietro was more than happy to let it go.
And more than a little intrigued. “Anyone pretty in particular, or just generally pretty? I mean, I plan to go for both, myself.” Because dancing with all the pretty people was important, clearly.
Felix couldn't duck away now that he'd made the opening. Maybe saying it out loud would cement his courage. He made sure to keep his spine straight and his chin up, like there was no reason at all to be shy. "In particular, Remus Lupin," Felix answered, though it wasn't like there was much confusion as to which Remus he meant.
With a wicked grin, Pietro raised his glass to Felix. If that wasn’t the most adorable thing he’d ever heard, he wasn’t sure what the hell it could be. “I always said you had the finest taste.” And he drank.
That looked like a wonderful idea. Felix draped both scarves around his neck and took a deep breath. "I might go see if Shinobi will let me have one of those before I ask," he said with a small smile and a nod toward Pietro's drink.
“As Bertie Wooster says: On these occasions it is generally conceded that a moderate skinful is of the essence.” Pietro smirked. “But it’s your party—you can have whatever you damn well please. Want me to make you one?”
Laughing, Felix agreed immediately. "Yes, please. I'll have mine with an extra drop of courage."
~*~*~*~
Through the beginning of the party, John had left the little package he’d wrapped up for the birthday boy in his room. But eventually he got antsy and retrieved it, tucked the little brown-wrapped package beneath his arm, then marched right up to Felix while he was standing there sipping something pink from a martini glass. “Hello, hello, my little part-time muse. Your party’s going off, I’d say. You must be pleased.”
By the time Johnny found him, Felix was contentedly tipsy and swaying lightly on his feet. The drink Pietro had made for him had been just strong enough to ease any possible cares away. Besides, he had his feather, from River, for courage. All he had to do now was find where Remus had gone. Perhaps John could help!
"I've never seen anything so amazing," Felix gushed immediately in response. "Caius and Shinobi are magic. I keep thinking I'll wake up, buuuut..." He lifted his glass for another satisfying drink. "Mmm. That's definitely real. You look like a gangster!"
"With a flamethrower instead of a tommy gun. And you look like a Professor of Fashion at a fancy cocktail party." All tailored perfect plaid and purple shirt--no patches on the elbows, but it'd do. John grinned. "Well, that's not a thing, but it ought to be, just for you. As a birthday courtesy."
"If it's not such a thing, I'll make it one," Felix decided, slipping one hand into a pocket and striking a wholly unnatural pose with his drink that only occurred in fashion magazines -- complete with head tilted just so, and brow lifted in abject superiority. He couldn't hold it for long, though, and a giggle quickly slipped through.
“Oh, well done.” John applauded, still holding the flat-ish rectangular package beneath one arm. “At this rate I’ll have you on my next book cover. Speaking of!”
He readjusted to hold out the package, which contained a book he’d found at the used shop that he suspected might be of interest to Felix. The stories as much as the little surprise John had to go with it. “Happy birthday, man. Trade me for the drink so you can open it?”
Felix stammered in wordless surprise. Though John wasn't the first to give him an unexpected gift that night, each time it happened it startled Felix all over again. He couldn't remember so much kindness shown to him all at once. Flushed, he surrendered his glass so that he could accept the package.
"You didn't have to!" he breathed, peeling the packaging away, glancing between John and the present with darting glances quite at odds with the social butterfly he had seemed to be all night. Once he caught a glimpse of the book's cover, though, he couldn't help dissolving into another giggle. "Oh, John! There really is such a thing!" Felix exclaimed, automatically opening the cover to flip through the first few pages.
On the title page was an inscription in black pen and a hand much loopier than John’s: To my beloved Elise. We’ll be together forever, even after. When Felix flipped that page, John said, “And I wrote you a little story to go with that,” he indicated the writing. “Just for you. I can tell you whenever you want to hear a story—now, later, some day when you’re dead bored. You just let me know.”
Felix's fingertips fluttered up off the page when he read the inscription, obviously left there by a previous owner. He didn't take impressions of the past, the way Fox did, but ghosts could cling to things as well as places. And people. The book didn't seem haunted, though, and he gingerly went back to turning pages.
"Just for me?" he echoed, peeking up at John from beneath a fringe of red curls, barely tamed by application of product.
It was difficult to manage a solemn nod when he was grinning so hugely, but John tried anyhow. “Yours and yours alone.” It was the thing he was good at, after all. Well, after fire, anyhow. He’d given Lorna her fire pig and it had gone over well, so why not?
Felix caught his lower lip between his teeth briefly, but only to dampen the excitable smile that threatened to take over completely. Attention like that, especially the sort of attention that meant John had been thinking about him when he wasn't around, was positively addicting. "Then you'll have to tell me in private," he decided, the flush in his cheeks and the glimmer in his eyes lending the words a quality he hadn't really intended, and didn't fully recognize in himself.
John was fascinated by it, though he couldn’t have said how or why. He just smiled brightly, reminding himself to do a character with lovely mismatched eyes sometime in future. Really, Felix had character potential all over him! “See, that’s why I did it. I knew you were an appreciative audience—an author likes nothing better—and that just proves it to me. In private is the best way to experience a story. Not when you’re surrounded by enough shiny things to drive a magpie mad.”
When Felix smiled, just the corners of his mouth turned up, and his gaze drifted back down to the book. Books, even paranormal romance anthologies, would always hold a touch more allure for him than lovely clothes and sparkling people. "I know," he murmured, "How about New Year's Eve, if you'll be here. We'll have stories before the clock counts down."
“I can think of no better way to ring in the new year,” John said with a delighted giggle. “Rely on me—you just let me know when you want it, and it’s yours.”
Then he handed Felix back his drink, oblivious to his own accidental innuendo, as usual. “Where can I get one of those? It’s dead gorgeous.” Not that he minded the champagne fountain, but he could use something a little stiffer.
Felix considered his drink like a third person in the conversation. "Pietro made me this one... this might be the second one," he amended. Tucking his new book under his arm -- and looking in fair danger of wandering off to read instead of dancing and mingling -- Felix took a slow turn about, attempting to determine his current relationship to what passed for a bar at a high-school party.
"There!" he decided, with some triumph, and pointed John in the generally correct direction. "... I think."
“Good enough for me!” John declared. Obviously the drink had done the job for the little ginger waif before him—why not him, too? “Coming with, or back to your adoring public?”
He didn't need to be asked twice. "Coming with! I shall have one more task and then I have a very important drink to undertake," Felix explained, quite serious as he got busy on finishing off the one he had.
“I’d say you’re well on your way, then,” John replied with a giggle. Well on his way to being paralytic—next stop Struggle Town, but then, that’s what birthdays were for.
A tiny gasping squeak heralded Felix's arrival in Pietro's vicinity when he caught sight of the other boy's outfit. He had been fluttering from one friend to another in a dizzying swirl of excitement, delight, and bubbling chatter. In fact, he was like a completely different person, far from the shy haunting ghost that was normally Felix during big parties. Breathless and bright-eyed, he soaked up attention and cheer from his friend like a little sponge wrapped in violet and cinnamon plaid, embellished with an emerald feather tucked in his buttonhole, unabashedly clashing.
"You look just like Nick Carraway!" Felix declared. "Nick could be blond, you know, he never says in the book. You look beautiful!"
"Why thank you," Pietro said, acting the part (and looking a lot less fucking awkward than Toby Maguire in it, thanks). He lifted his martini in a small toast to the birthday boy, grinning. God, he loved Felix's sense of fashion so much--it was so quirky and... actually, the guy looked kind of hot, at the moment, even—right down to the out-of-place yet very Felix feather. Wow, go Felix. "You're looking awfully lovely yourself--no one else could carry off that amazing suit half as well. If I'm Nick, you're Amory Blaine, wandering around the Princeton campus looking beautiful and romantic. Happy birthday, Felix."
Felix giggled unashamedly, delicate fingers curled before his mouth as if he might try to catch the sound. Of course he had sought out Fitzgerald's other works in the library as soon as they had finished Gatsby for English, and found a far more engaging hero. "Thank you!" he exclaimed, sincerely, drawing himself up a little straighter. More than a year of safety and proper nutrition had rewarded him with a couple of extra inches, though he was still far shy of Pietro's height.
"I didn't know what to think when Caius bundled me into this," he laughed, glancing down at himself with a brush of those genetically-decorated hands. "I can't believe they've been planning all of this. I can't believe Caius kept it secret. I just... I sort of can't believe all of it," Felix gushed breathlessly.
“I know that feeling intimately,” Pietro said with a grin, gaze sliding from the adorable red-head before him and finding a certain tall, red-eyed southern boy in the melee of revelers before returning to Felix again. “Glad to see you’re making the most of it, though, you handsome devil. They did a hell of a job engineering it, but I’m not surprised, considering who we’re talking about.
“Ready for presents?” Pietro waggled his eyebrows for effect.
"What?" Felix blinked, looking truly bewildered. Caius would have said something artful and perfect, but Felix hadn't yet learned to school his responses like that. He hadn't thought there could be more than the luscious new suit and the surprise celebration just for him. Pietro -- most popular guy in the school Pietro -- pouring on the compliments had distracted him enough that the offer of presents caught him completely off guard, all wide-eyed and fluttery-fingered.
“Well, I don’t wanna rush you if you’re not quite at the ‘opening presents’ stage of your revelry yet,” Pietro said, instead of waggling, now cocking one platinum eyebrow high. “But then, rushing is kinda my thing. And actually they’re not even wrapped, so there’s that.”
He sipped at his martini with one hand and reached into a pocket with the other.
Felix's gaze dipped immediately toward Pietro's pocket, even though he felt a little greedy doing so. Gifts were in the same strange realm for him as birthday parties, and he couldn't really fully quell his wonder at all of it. "Well, I... I wouldn't want to tear you from your adoring fans later in the evening," he managed to say with some measure of grace and politeness.
“Adoring fans—I’m gonna use that one,” Pietro said with a chuckle. Okay, he had one adoring fan, maybe, but that was more than he’d ever expected so he’d take it. In his jacket pocket, his fingers found a carefully folded up silk scarf in a fantastic paisley that had immediately reminded him of Felix. Continuing the tradition of Pietro handing over interesting accessories and/or small clothing items, since they seemed to please Felix as much as they pleased him.
He pulled it out with a little flourish to let it unfurl in the air. Drama! “Number one. For your personality.”
Delighted, both with the scarf and with the flourish of presentation, Felix pressed his hands together with a tiny gasp. "Oh! My personality adores it," he assured Pietro breathlessly, taking a half-step closer. As if unsure of the etiquette, he glanced with a question in his sparkling eyes as he reached out to accept the scarf. "So does everything I have to wear. It's gorgeous!"
“I’m glad you think so,” Pietro said earnestly, though his grin was thousand-watt. He passed the scarf over easily, then switched his drink to that hand and reached into the other pocket. “And for your not-tattoos—which you know by now I love...”
With a similar flourish, Pietro pulled out a green lace-scarf. “Because how could I not think of you when I saw it?” And frankly, Pietro thought flaunting them a little more might be a good thing. Of course they might draw attention outside, but around the house, and then in a year or two when he looked a little older… damn hot, seriously.
Felix carefully draped the first scarf over his arm, admiring it with the tips of his fingers, when he was caught flat-footed by the appearance of a second present. He hadn't even been expecting one, and there were two? For a few seconds, Felix looked like he couldn't decide if he should blush, or cry, or give Pietro a flying unexpected hug like the one he'd sprung on Caius earlier in the party, much to many of the guests' surprise. He stammered, not sure what to say, and more than a little overwhelmed by the never-ending generosity of his schoolmates.
"You're... but I... " Felix's hands fluttered, but he stepped up again to accept it, wishing desperately that he could recover himself and think of something halfway intelligent to say. All he could manage was a shy, but earnest, "Thank you."
God, you'd think he'd handed the kid a set of car keys--and seeing as he couldn't really afford anything beyond a couple of cute accessories, Pietro couldn't have been more pleased with the reaction. He chuckled. "You are very, very welcome. We'll do a fashion show someday."
"We should!" Felix agreed breathlessly, twining the lacy leaves around his fingers, admiring how they complemented the bold markings on his hands. "That, I could do. Convincing acting in a play, probably not." A school runway would be as close as Felix could get to being a real model, given his intense distaste for cameras of all kinds.
Felix looked up at Peitro again, having found his tongue once more. "You're so sweet to feed my scarf addiction," he said, his eyes fairly dancing, his smile small and sweet. If he actually knew how vulnerable and pretty he could look when he did that, it could be a deadly weapon.
Pietro was thinking something very much like that, grinning hard enough to split his face. “Well, it’s an addiction we share, what can I say. Besides, us pretty boys deserve pretty things.” He winked. If his gaze flicked up to Remy again, well. That was prettier than Pietro deserved, but he wasn’t gonna tell Remy that.
You couldn't really not notice the way Pietro was drawn to Remy, gravitating toward him whenever they were apart for awhile. Philosophically, Felix was pleased that people he knew seemed happy together. Viscerally, instinctively, it sparked an undefinable nervousness that he worked hard to quell. He wanted more than anything to be normal, and that meant not shying away from other peoples' romances like a wounded animal.
"I might ask someone pretty to dance later," he agreed, as if testing the words out for the first time. "You should too."
Occasionally it was more annoying than not to have superspeed—at least, when Pietro was trying not to see things people didn’t want him to see in their faces and bodies. Expressions were too easy to read when slowed down, but honestly, Pietro didn’t want to read them. Still, Felix seemed okay in the end, and that was all that really mattered. As usual, Pietro was more than happy to let it go.
And more than a little intrigued. “Anyone pretty in particular, or just generally pretty? I mean, I plan to go for both, myself.” Because dancing with all the pretty people was important, clearly.
Felix couldn't duck away now that he'd made the opening. Maybe saying it out loud would cement his courage. He made sure to keep his spine straight and his chin up, like there was no reason at all to be shy. "In particular, Remus Lupin," Felix answered, though it wasn't like there was much confusion as to which Remus he meant.
With a wicked grin, Pietro raised his glass to Felix. If that wasn’t the most adorable thing he’d ever heard, he wasn’t sure what the hell it could be. “I always said you had the finest taste.” And he drank.
That looked like a wonderful idea. Felix draped both scarves around his neck and took a deep breath. "I might go see if Shinobi will let me have one of those before I ask," he said with a small smile and a nod toward Pietro's drink.
“As Bertie Wooster says: On these occasions it is generally conceded that a moderate skinful is of the essence.” Pietro smirked. “But it’s your party—you can have whatever you damn well please. Want me to make you one?”
Laughing, Felix agreed immediately. "Yes, please. I'll have mine with an extra drop of courage."
~*~*~*~
Through the beginning of the party, John had left the little package he’d wrapped up for the birthday boy in his room. But eventually he got antsy and retrieved it, tucked the little brown-wrapped package beneath his arm, then marched right up to Felix while he was standing there sipping something pink from a martini glass. “Hello, hello, my little part-time muse. Your party’s going off, I’d say. You must be pleased.”
By the time Johnny found him, Felix was contentedly tipsy and swaying lightly on his feet. The drink Pietro had made for him had been just strong enough to ease any possible cares away. Besides, he had his feather, from River, for courage. All he had to do now was find where Remus had gone. Perhaps John could help!
"I've never seen anything so amazing," Felix gushed immediately in response. "Caius and Shinobi are magic. I keep thinking I'll wake up, buuuut..." He lifted his glass for another satisfying drink. "Mmm. That's definitely real. You look like a gangster!"
"With a flamethrower instead of a tommy gun. And you look like a Professor of Fashion at a fancy cocktail party." All tailored perfect plaid and purple shirt--no patches on the elbows, but it'd do. John grinned. "Well, that's not a thing, but it ought to be, just for you. As a birthday courtesy."
"If it's not such a thing, I'll make it one," Felix decided, slipping one hand into a pocket and striking a wholly unnatural pose with his drink that only occurred in fashion magazines -- complete with head tilted just so, and brow lifted in abject superiority. He couldn't hold it for long, though, and a giggle quickly slipped through.
“Oh, well done.” John applauded, still holding the flat-ish rectangular package beneath one arm. “At this rate I’ll have you on my next book cover. Speaking of!”
He readjusted to hold out the package, which contained a book he’d found at the used shop that he suspected might be of interest to Felix. The stories as much as the little surprise John had to go with it. “Happy birthday, man. Trade me for the drink so you can open it?”
Felix stammered in wordless surprise. Though John wasn't the first to give him an unexpected gift that night, each time it happened it startled Felix all over again. He couldn't remember so much kindness shown to him all at once. Flushed, he surrendered his glass so that he could accept the package.
"You didn't have to!" he breathed, peeling the packaging away, glancing between John and the present with darting glances quite at odds with the social butterfly he had seemed to be all night. Once he caught a glimpse of the book's cover, though, he couldn't help dissolving into another giggle. "Oh, John! There really is such a thing!" Felix exclaimed, automatically opening the cover to flip through the first few pages.
On the title page was an inscription in black pen and a hand much loopier than John’s: To my beloved Elise. We’ll be together forever, even after. When Felix flipped that page, John said, “And I wrote you a little story to go with that,” he indicated the writing. “Just for you. I can tell you whenever you want to hear a story—now, later, some day when you’re dead bored. You just let me know.”
Felix's fingertips fluttered up off the page when he read the inscription, obviously left there by a previous owner. He didn't take impressions of the past, the way Fox did, but ghosts could cling to things as well as places. And people. The book didn't seem haunted, though, and he gingerly went back to turning pages.
"Just for me?" he echoed, peeking up at John from beneath a fringe of red curls, barely tamed by application of product.
It was difficult to manage a solemn nod when he was grinning so hugely, but John tried anyhow. “Yours and yours alone.” It was the thing he was good at, after all. Well, after fire, anyhow. He’d given Lorna her fire pig and it had gone over well, so why not?
Felix caught his lower lip between his teeth briefly, but only to dampen the excitable smile that threatened to take over completely. Attention like that, especially the sort of attention that meant John had been thinking about him when he wasn't around, was positively addicting. "Then you'll have to tell me in private," he decided, the flush in his cheeks and the glimmer in his eyes lending the words a quality he hadn't really intended, and didn't fully recognize in himself.
John was fascinated by it, though he couldn’t have said how or why. He just smiled brightly, reminding himself to do a character with lovely mismatched eyes sometime in future. Really, Felix had character potential all over him! “See, that’s why I did it. I knew you were an appreciative audience—an author likes nothing better—and that just proves it to me. In private is the best way to experience a story. Not when you’re surrounded by enough shiny things to drive a magpie mad.”
When Felix smiled, just the corners of his mouth turned up, and his gaze drifted back down to the book. Books, even paranormal romance anthologies, would always hold a touch more allure for him than lovely clothes and sparkling people. "I know," he murmured, "How about New Year's Eve, if you'll be here. We'll have stories before the clock counts down."
“I can think of no better way to ring in the new year,” John said with a delighted giggle. “Rely on me—you just let me know when you want it, and it’s yours.”
Then he handed Felix back his drink, oblivious to his own accidental innuendo, as usual. “Where can I get one of those? It’s dead gorgeous.” Not that he minded the champagne fountain, but he could use something a little stiffer.
Felix considered his drink like a third person in the conversation. "Pietro made me this one... this might be the second one," he amended. Tucking his new book under his arm -- and looking in fair danger of wandering off to read instead of dancing and mingling -- Felix took a slow turn about, attempting to determine his current relationship to what passed for a bar at a high-school party.
"There!" he decided, with some triumph, and pointed John in the generally correct direction. "... I think."
“Good enough for me!” John declared. Obviously the drink had done the job for the little ginger waif before him—why not him, too? “Coming with, or back to your adoring public?”
He didn't need to be asked twice. "Coming with! I shall have one more task and then I have a very important drink to undertake," Felix explained, quite serious as he got busy on finishing off the one he had.
“I’d say you’re well on your way, then,” John replied with a giggle. Well on his way to being paralytic—next stop Struggle Town, but then, that’s what birthdays were for.
