by Crook, Amy
They kept chatting, Alex telling him a story about Lapointe’s first experience with sashimi while their plates were changed, and segueing into Julian’s tale of an amusingly disastrous date with Cecil that started at a very dubious sushi bar.
“Your final course,” interrupted the waiter, bringing them a single plate with two different kinds of sashimi; their dish of soy sauce had remained when the dishes from the previous course vanished. “Will you be wanting dessert?”
More to annoy the man than out of any real hunger, Alex said, “We might, if you could bring a menu once this course is done, that would be lovely.”
“Of course, sir,” said the waiter dryly, and Alex had to wonder what it was about him that seemed to ping the man’s radar.
“Perhaps he thinks you’re a terrible tipper?” said Julian, and Alex was gratified that it wasn’t just him that felt the waiter was being rude.
“Maybe he’s got a bet on one of your other suitors to win?” said Alex with a chuckle. “Like the society page horse races.”
Julian groaned. “Don’t even suggest that!” he protested, but Alex could tell he found it a little funny, when it wasn’t mortifying.
“Sorry,” said Alex, picking up a piece of fish and dipping one edge in the soy sauce before tasting it. The pink-fleshed yellowfin tuna practically melted on his tongue, cool and sweet and subtle as the crab but in an entirely different way. The sashimi was made of the highest quality fish possible, and Alex nearly moaned in delight at the difference between this and the pedestrian sushi he was used to. “Oh, my, I’d almost have done the whole Courtship for this.”
Julian laughed and took a piece of the same side, his expression showing the very same bliss. “Mmm, I might have to marry you for your excellent taste in food,” said Julian, and Alex blushed and sipped his wine, realising that they’d each had about half the bottle and were on to drinks next. He’d tucked a pair of bottles of sobering up potion into his coat, so as long as he remembered to retrieve them, they should be all right.
“Don’t promise anything foolish while you’re on fine wine and even better seafood,” teased Alex, trying the fish on the other side, this one something white-fleshed he didn’t recognise. It, too, was exquisitely tender, with a subtle fishy flavour that reminded him a bit of good mackerel, but refined to near perfection. “Though if we can come here more often, I might take you up on it.”
“Tease,” said Julian, taking up his own bit of white fish and showing every ounce of his enjoyment. Alex wondered idly how he’d be to make love to, then shoved that thought away and replaced it with his second, and sadly last, bite of the white fish.
“Well,” said Alex, when he’d washed down the morsel with a bit of wine, “I am Courting you.”
“So you are,” said Julian, taking his own morsel of tuna, leaving one piece of each on the plate.
Alex picked up the tuna and gave it his full attention, wondering if there was anything in the evening that could possibly top it. He remembered Julian’s sweet, unexpected kiss, and tried to pretend it hadn’t been better, but he’d always been terrible at self-delusion. At least on the really obvious things.
There were more insidious delusions at play here, he supposed.
“I’m not sure I want dessert here, do you suppose they’ve got sweets where we’re going next?” asked Julian, once he’d finished off his fish and they’d traded plates for a single menu.
“I’ve no idea,” admitted Alex, “but look, doesn’t this sound interesting?” He pointed to an intriguing dish that seemed to be a sort of tiramisu, only made with matcha green tea and sour plum jelly.
Julian oohed, and that got him to read over all the selections. They ended up with the one Alex had suggested and a white chocolate cake with apricot jelly and jasmine tea ice cream, and when they arrived there was steaming matcha and jasmine tea to go with them. They traded bites and sips and talked mostly about the food, and in the end Alex was glad they’d bothered, because Julian was smiling when they left and still talking about the food.
“I probably ought to tell Henry that dinner was a success,” said Alex, who’d overtipped just to annoy the waiter, and even tipped the coat check girl, “but I’d rather make him wait and wonder.”
“You’re wicked,” said Julian, amused.
Alex handed him into the waiting car, which had appeared as soon as it was needed, a different sort of magic that Alex had grown used to doing without. “Only as wicked as you want me to be,” he said, sliding in next to Julian.
“I like you a bit wicked,” said Julian, his voice lower now, intimate and flirty.
Alex pulled him close and kissed him softly, unable to resist the invitation in his posture and tone. “But not too wicked,” he said, shifting to tuck Julian in next to him in a surprisingly comfortable cuddle. “I haven’t earned it yet.”
Julian laughed. “You haven’t, but you’re trying,” he said, pulling Alex’s head down for one more lingering kiss before he gave in and cuddled up. “I like this, you’re skinny but you’re warm.”
“Thin men put out more heat, we’ve no padding to keep it in,” said Alex thoughtlessly, distracted by the soft scent of Julian’s hair, a mix of the man and his styling products that Alex found quite appealing.
“I suppose you’ve taken a sampling?” asked Julian tartly, tensing up. He didn’t pull away, but the threat was there, and clearly dependent on Alex’s answer.
Alex shrugged and wondered which would be worse, the truth or a flirty deflection. “I’ve been with my share of men, yes,” he said carefully, “But I was under the impression that a master-husband was supposed to, well, have mastery of these things, for his consort’s sake if nothing else.”
Julian sighed and, though he didn’t relax precisely, he settled more firmly in Alex’s embrace. “I suppose it’s silly to expect you’ve been with just one person,” said Julian. “I know the reputations of many of my other suitors, I guess I just didn’t think of what yours might be.”
“Well, that’s one advantage to having dropped out of society years ago,” said Alex, kissing Julian’s hair gently, “I don’t have much of a reputation.”
Julian chuckled. “Well, you do, but it’s all from people who knew you as a boy and have no idea what you’re capable of as a man.”
Alex, too, chuckled at that and said wryly, “Well, they’ll find out, won’t they?”
The car began to slow, and this time they were in a different sort of neighbourhood, this one more like the area he’d bought the paintings. While they parked, Alex paused to fish the sobering potions out of the overcoat along with everything else he’d slipped in there, finding places on his jacket that didn’t leave too much of a bulge. A tasteful neon sign on an old brick building read simply, “The Gin Joint,” and the doorman looked amused about the ceremony involved with the driver opening their door as though they couldn’t do it themselves.
This time, at least, Alex was prepared. “Stop number two on the Benedict Whirlwind Tour,” teased Alex, getting out and offering Julian a hand out before palming the card with its bribe still attached.
“From the look of you, you can only be Henry’s big brother,” said the doorman, relieving Alex of at least that burden.
“I am, thank you,” he said, offering his hand for a shake. “I’m afraid my brother failed to give me your name, though, or much information at all, really.”
The doorman laughed. “That’s Henry,” he said. “They call me the Judge.” He shook Alex’s hand with a strong but not crushing grip, and Alex appreciated that he felt no need to prove his strength when it was so very obvious he could wipe the floor with them both. The Judge was a burly man in a retro suit that was well-tailored enough to make him look good despite the unusual fit, handsome in a way that probably got him the sort of girl — or boy, though Alex would bet he was straight — who enjoyed a bit of danger.
“We’ll stay on the side of the law,” said Julian, artlessly charming in his way.
> “Good,” said the Judge, opening the door and gesturing for them to enter.
The interior matched the outside, though rather than the updated retro Alex was expecting, the furnishings were well-cared-for originals. The whole place had a wonderful aura of being loved by its staff and owners, and Alex could see why Henry wanted it kept a bit of a secret.
“Sit anywhere you like,” said the bartender, gesturing toward the half-full interior.
“Thank you,” said Alex, leading Julian over to a cosy little round booth that would seat two with plenty of room, and four only if they were very good friends. He hung Julian’s overcoat and scarf on the waiting hook next to the booth and they settled in to enjoy the ambience. “I can see why Henry wants to keep this place from becoming trendy,” he said idly.
“Me, too,” said Julian with a delighted little smile. “It’s lovely.”
A waitress came up and gave them the once-over, chuckling. “You boys out on a date, then?” she asked.
“He’s done me that favour,” said Alex with a chuckle. “What do you recommend? We’ve got a bit of time to kill before our next stop.”
“Arnold makes a brilliant martini,” she said. “Gin or vodka, though I like the gin ones best.”
“That sounds good to me, vodka, though,” said Julian. “Gin doesn’t agree with me.”
“I’ll try the gin for balance, then,” said Alex. “And perhaps something small to nibble on?”
She grinned. “I’ll bring over a bowl of snacks, luv, on the house.” Her heels clicked as she went over to the bar, grinning and gossiping happily with the bartender while he made up their martinis, one with olives and one with a twist of lemon.
She returned with a bowl of nuts and pretzels, their martinis, and two glasses of water. “Got to pace yourself,” she said with a nod and a wink to Julian. “Don’t let him take advantage, dear.”
They all laughed at that, and it was pleasantly homey, whether just her personality or a special treatment thanks to his brother’s good standing as a regular, Alex wasn’t sure. “These look great,” said Alex, taking a careful sip of his. He’d gotten the olives and the gin both, and the taste was bright and crisp with just a hint of salt, as though the bartender had made the martini ever so slightly dirty.
Somehow, Alex found that really appropriate.
“Mmm, perfect,” said Julian. “I’ve always really liked martinis, though I can only have a couple, especially after all that wine.”
Alex grinned. “I’ve got sobering potion for both of us, so you won’t be too giddy for the next part,” he said, glad he’d remembered to bring them in.
Julian looked quite pleasantly surprised. “You take good care of me,” he said, echoing his earlier sentiment.
“I do what I can,” said Alex. “Now, aside from climbing trees and winning men’s hearts, what do you like to do for fun?” he asked.
They sipped drinks and ate snacks and chatted for the next hour and a half about Julian’s secret love of mass market mystery novels, Alex’s collection of spell components he knows he’ll never use, Julian and Emmy’s regular afternoons at the horse races and Alex’s tendency to spend the down time between cases lounging around the house in his silk pyjamas.
“I bet you look all elegantly decadent,” said Julian impishly. “Assuming the pyjamas are long enough on you.”
Alex laughed. “I assure you my wrists and ankles are properly covered,” he said. He paused to finish off the last of his martini and check his watch. “About time to go, did you want to sober up before or after we try to stand?”
“Oh, before,” said Julian with a giggle. “I need to use the loo as well.”
“Before it is,” said Alex, pulling out the two little phials. “Cheers.”
They clinked phials and downed their doses, and Alex felt the fuzzy warmth recede until he was once again clear-headed. “You go on, I’ll pay and then take a turn,” said Alex, gesturing for the waitress.
“Not going to angle for a peek?” teased Julian, scooting out of the booth.
“I’ll wait until I’m invited to get a proper look,” said Alex with a wink.
The waitress brought the check without being asked, and Alex gave Victor’s credit card over gladly, though the drinks were perfectly reasonably priced even for Alex’s pedestrian tastes. He ate the last olive out of his glass to wash away the taste of the potion, then waited for Julian to emerge before heading off himself. Once they were signed, sorted and Julian was bundled back up against the cold, they headed out to find the car just pulling up.
“Oooh, he’s good,” said Julian, impressed.
“Victor’s got high standards,” said Alex, “I’m just borrowing car and driver both for the evening.”
“Going to tell me where we’re off to?” asked Julian, as they got themselves settled back into the car.
“Nope,” said Alex. “It’s fun to surprise you, even if they’re not really my surprises.”
“They’re yours enough,” said Julian, cuddling up into Alex’s arms without prompting.
Alex grinned the whole way to the next stop.
~ ~ ~
“The Starlight Tower?” said Julian, surprised.
Alex flushed. “Henry says there’s ballroom dancing after eleven,” he said, leading Julian into the glass elevator that would take them to the very top of the building and the glass-roofed restaurant waiting. It was a bit of a cliche to take a date there if you were middle-class and wanting to impress, and a place to go slumming for a pretty view and mediocre steak if you were from the aristocracy. “I’ve never actually been before.”
“Me, neither,” said Julian, looking up at him. “You like ballroom dancing?”
“It’s the only sort I’m good at,” confessed Alex with a sheepish grin. “I hope that’s okay?”
Julian grinned. “It’s better than okay, though you’ll have to lead. I’m a bit clumsy at it still.”
Alex laughed. “Could you imagine how we’d look if you were leading?”
They were still laughing when the elevator doors opened.
Whatever the Starlight Tower looked like during dinner, it was a truly gorgeous place now. There were tables all around the edges of the room, but the centre was a polished black marble floor just waiting for dancers. The lighting was minimal, mostly candles on tables and strings of fairy lights that echoed the real wonder of the place, the clear, starlit sky above. The view out the floor-to-ceiling windows was equally breathtaking, showing the sparkling lights of the city below from a dizzying height.
“It’s a good thing I’m not afraid of heights,” said Julian, stepping forward and looking around with wonder.
“You’d hardly be out on a date with me if you were,” said Alex, but he, too, was impressed by the view. He could see why it was so popular, even if most of the society boys who brought dates here felt the need to pretend it was beneath them.
They got a seat near the band, and Alex dutifully introduced himself to the bandmaster and made sure to request at least one slow, romantic waltz he could use to impress Julian with what few graces he possessed. They ordered champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries from their bored-looking waitress, and soon enough the music was playing and a few couples drifted onto the dance floor.
“May I have this dance?” asked Alex, standing up and bowing formally, offering Julian his hand.
“Well, since you asked so nicely,” said Julian, a charmed smile on his face. Alex led him out to the edge of the dance floor, then swung him gracefully into position and started them moving, his attention divided between the man in his arms and the people around them who wouldn’t appreciate a collision.
“You really can dance!” said Julian, looking very pleased indeed. He was an excellent partner, responding to Alex’s gentle nonverbal direction and not fighting for the lead like some men did.
It wasn’t until they sat down that Alex realised they’d been the only same-sex couple on the floor, and also were about thirty ye
ars younger than the next youngest pair. “You dance much better than the lady with the blue hair,” said Alex, as he poured them each another half-flute of champagne.
“It’s all in the hips,” said Julian, giving a little shimmy, “mine are original.”
“So, good surprise?” asked Alex.
“Good surprise,” assured Julian, picking up one of the cool strawberries and biting into the candy-coated flesh, making very pleased noises despite the way the chocolate tried to crack and fall all down his front. He managed to catch the little shards, and he licked them off his fingers one by one with an impish grin.
Alex took another sip of champagne and wondered how obvious his erection would be if it didn’t go down before it was time to dance again. “Good,” was all he said, attention entirely on the sight of Julian eating his strawberry bite by sweet red bite.
“Mmm, very good,” said Julian, washing the treat down with champagne.
They spent about an hour there, dancing and drinking and talking, until the band struck up a properly slow, romantic song that Alex just knew would be perfect to end their night. “Come on, one last dance?” he asked, standing.
“One last dance,” said Julian, looking pleased and just a little tired. He let Alex pull him close and move them through the measures, their bodies swaying together gracefully despite the difference in their heights.
Unable to resist, Alex started a soft, low whistle, conjuring first one or two and then dozens of soft blue-glowing butterflies to dance with them, swirling around the dance floor like bits of the night sky come down to visit them. They sparkled and shone, coming to rest on the dancers before taking of again in flight, and Julian’s eyes sparkled with them. “They’re beautiful,” he said softly, “I wonder if they know you’re doing it.”
Alex grinned and kissed him, keeping up enough of a hum that the illusion held through his moment of distraction. He let his magic crescendo with the song, then let the butterflies burst into showering stars that fell to the floor and floated for a moment like sparks on black water before being snuffed out.