New York (LoW prompt: Bubble)

[killingsoftly]

The first couple of days had been like in a dream of pure joy. He still had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't actually dreaming, that it all was real. That more than just the fact that Warren was with him, that Warren loved him. That he ... even in his head he stumbled over the word, but he managed it...loved Warren.

There was fear there, too. Always fear, of what he could do. Of what he'd done before. That Warren would wake up one day and realize just who and what he was in bed with. That Warren didn't know the worst of it. The lives he'd taken knowingly. Purposefully.

That the full knowledge of him would burst the bubble of happiness they were floating in.

He pulled on his leather pants and shrugged into his silk shirt. Earring in, just one, shirt half unbuttoned. He added a touch of eyeliner, something to draw eyes to his. Nothing too elaborate. Nothing like what he'd paraded around in the years of Glam. But a touch. He was tousling his hair, adding in gel when his cell rang.

He glanced at the number and sighed. He almost didn't answer, but he finally did. He wondered how she'd known he was in town.

"Brenda."

"Devin, darling," her voice was always so chipper and yet refined. "You naughty boy, you didn't call and tell me you were in town."

He continued to fuss with his hair. "No, I didn't."

"I thought that was our arrangement."

"It's not? I call when I need work, luv, but currently I'm doing just fine." He wasn't, really, but his investments would hold. He'd saved well. He could afford to not have to work for her for a while.

"Devin..." She sounded like she was chiding him. "Kathryn saw your poster. She'd like to see you after the show."

"Not possible." He slapped on the aftershave a little too vehemently.

"And why not?"

"I have plans." He swallowed, closing his eyes as he prepared to cut the ties. "Rather permanent ones."

There was a long pause on the other end. "You're quitting?"

He took a deep breath. "Yeah. I am."

"You can't do that. You're my most successful..."

"Everyone quits at some point, Brenda. You did."

"You're at your peak!"

"I'm done." For now.

"Devin...you've always said..."

"I know." He leaned against the counter.

"You're the best."

He sighed, closing his eyes. "Yeah. I know." It was his particular gift. "I'm still done, at least for now, okay?"

Another long pause and then a sigh. "She must be something."

He smiled a little. "He is."

She chuckled at that. "Kathryn will still be there tonight."

"I'll deal with her."

"She's a very important client."

"I'll deal with her nicely."

"If you ever..."

"Yeah, I know. I'll call."

She sighed one more time and then he heard the click. He set the phone aside, closing his eyes again and rubbing his temples.

He'd need to book more gigs, for the energy and the money. Cut new CDs and push them. Maybe actually put up a website with ordering. Something to bring money in to keep them going. And he'd have to make these phone calls in most major cities in America.

It wasn't going to be easy, but he just...he didn't know what Warren would say. Didn't want to find out, if it disappointed him. Didn't...He wanted them to stay as happy as they were. Whatever it took. He'd just have to pull more from the audience. Take from them what he couldn't get elsewhere. He could make it work. He gave a resolute nod, and reached to work on messing his hair up just a bit more.

Comments

[killingsoftly.livejournal.com]

Devin closed his eyes to listen, to enjoy the touch and the sound and to let it wash the rest of it away.

[firebugwarren.livejournal.com]

Warren sighed a little as the music slid to instrumental for a moment. At least he was getting this right.

His fingers slid to Devin's hair, stroking through it, down the back of his neck as he picked up the thread of the song again. The candles were starting to fill the room with vanilla and cinnamon. Apple cinnamon.

He darted out quickly, grabbing the small bottle from the plastic bag and setting it down next to his wine glass before resuming the touches, the singing, interspersed with sips of wine.

[killingsoftly.livejournal.com]

Devin opened one eye, peering at him quizzically when he got back, before closing it again and sipping his wine.

"Mmm...this is good..."

[firebugwarren.livejournal.com]

"Good." He smiled slightly. "I thought I remembered right."

He dipped his fingers in the water; it was getting a little tepid, and probably icky. Reaching down, he set the old water to draining and new, warm water to flowing in.

"Dev..." He leaned back, watching him. Wasn't sure what to say.

[killingsoftly.livejournal.com]

Devin opened his eyes, watching him in return.

"Yes?"

[firebugwarren.livejournal.com]

Warren watched him for a moment, trying to sort things through at least somewhat.

Then, suddenly, he smiled. "You were great tonight. And I'm really enjoying New York. All of it." Including tonight, and everything that was going on.

[killingsoftly.livejournal.com]

"Yeah?" Devin grinned a little, hopeful. "I'm glad."

He could still feel the energy pulsing through him. "It was a good show."

[firebugwarren.livejournal.com]

Warren grinned back. "Not a dry seat in the house." Waggled his eyebrows just a bit.

[killingsoftly.livejournal.com]

Devin laughed at that, looking a tiny bit smug. "No..."

[firebugwarren.livejournal.com]

Warren's fingers played through his hair again. "If looks could kill I'd..."

He couldn't come up with anything good for that, so he let it go. But he smiled, just a little.

[killingsoftly.livejournal.com]

Devin smiled back, almost impish. "Were you the recipient of some of those looks tonight?"

[firebugwarren.livejournal.com]

Warren gave him a look, and a rueful smile. "Oh come on. After you came over half the club was hovering, waiting to see if you'd change your mind."

[killingsoftly.livejournal.com]

Devin hadn't noticed.

"Never," he said with a smile that was just Warren's.

[firebugwarren.livejournal.com]

Warren smiled back, shyness almost overridden by the affection and wonder in it. His fingers slid through Devin's hair again, down to touch his cheek.

[killingsoftly.livejournal.com]

Devin leaned into the touch with another smile, reaching his fingers to trace Warren's jaw.

[firebugwarren.livejournal.com]

Warren turned his head after a moment to kiss his fingertips, still smiling shyly and even blinking a bit. His hand cupped Devin's cheek for a moment.

Then left, as he leaned over abruptly to shut off the water and plug the tub back up, the inflow having exceeded the outflow and actually starting to fill it almost past capacity.

"Oops."

[killingsoftly.livejournal.com]

Devin laughed. "Not drowning would be a goal for the evening, yeah."

[firebugwarren.livejournal.com]

Warren wrinkled his nose at Devin, grinned. "I wouldn't let you drown!"

He finished his glass of wine, set it on the sink table again. "But I will do your hair whenver you're ready."

[killingsoftly.livejournal.com]

Devin set his glass aside, smiling. "Now's good..." Before he got all wrinkly, no matter how lovely the room.

[firebugwarren.livejournal.com]

"'kay."

He leaned over, kissed his cheek, and set the other glass on the sink.

Kneeling back down, he started to scoop up water in his hands, letting it flow over Devin's head and back.

[killingsoftly.livejournal.com]

Devin tilted his head back with a soft smile, closing his eyes.

[firebugwarren.livejournal.com]

Warren made sure to get all of his hair wet, if not soaking wet, before he got the bottle from beside the tub.

A small handful of apple-blossom shampoo spilled out into his palm, neatly complimenting the vanilla and cinnamon scents in the room as he lathered it into Devin's hair.

[killingsoftly.livejournal.com]

Devin sniffed appreciatively, smiling a bit more.

"That smells good."

[firebugwarren.livejournal.com]

Warren grinned, pleased that he was pleased.

"Good," he murmured, careful to lather and rub not too hard, but with enough pressure to feel at least all right.

[killingsoftly.livejournal.com]

Devin murmured softly in pleasure at the fingers working over his scalp.