killingsoftly | Glass -- New York, Friday Night

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Glass -- New York, Friday Night

They'd given them a park facing room, which was more than Devin had hoped for. He brushed his fingers over the cool glass of the doors, then stepped outside on the balcony, letting the sounds of the city wash over him. He took a sip of whiskey, smiling to himself as he watched the warm early evening light warm the buildings and the tops of the trees. It was warm and the air conditioner in the room kicked on in protest of the open door, but he just let it run, listening to the sounds of Warren in the room behind him.

Even now, the heat from their little game still lingered, flushing his cheeks. The whiskey in the glass was cool, but not cool enough. He was cursing himself that they only had one bed, but when he'd booked the gig, and the room, he hadn't expected Warren to be coming. He figured he'd be pursuing his other gig while here, but then the invitation spilled out and here they were. He wasn't coming down off a high. He'd slept a lot the last few days. He'd been eating. He wasn't fragile and out of it, and sharing that bed was likely to test his resolve to the limit, especially after the teasing.

He wasn't likely to sleep much.

But he didn't want to push Warren. The flirtation was delightful. The game moreso, but he was the one who wanted it to be more than just a game, not Warren. He had to remember that part and not push, no matter if that "later" teased at his memory. He slid fingers over glass and imagined briefly it was skin, then pushed those thoughts away. He could behave.

"Our reservation's at six." He called back over his shoulder, straightening even as he kept his gaze fixed on the people scurrying below, drinking in the life of the City. "We should probably leave by 530. It's just around the corner, less than half a mile. Walk or cab?"

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"Your first time to a Broadway show. I wanted it to be perfect." He smiled a little, shrugged as if he hadn't spent $230 a ticket. "I know people."

Not a single one of whom had been able to get him a discount.

Warren just nodded, swallowing. On second though, he didn't want to know.

He leaned back, and maybe just a little into Devin. Just a little. Still mindful of the temptation. Watching until the house lights went down.

Devin paid half attention to the show and the other half watching Warren watch the show. It was a delight to watch, the expressions, the enjoyment.

He leaned back into him a little as well.

Warren had walked through the auditorium watching one of the two attempts at school plays and been thoroughly unimpressed. He'd heard some of his mother's stories about the theatre but he hadn't believed them.

Not till now, anyway. The lights, the laughter. The music.

After a little while he forgot about everything, even the warmth of Devin next to him faded into a pleasant sensation while he soaked in every moment of the show. Laughed at the jokes and the hilarity. Stared, wide-eyed, at the song-and-dance routines.

Devin got sucked into the story a little bit, but Warren's delight was contagious. Watching him was entrancing and he was almost sorry when the lights came up for intermission.

He got them more wine then, and then they were back and the show went on, and Devin couldn't have told you at the end of it what it was about.

He waited, breathless, for the end of the show and hearing Warren's reaction.

Warren was actually somewhat restrained in his applause, mostly because all he could think of was catcalling, which didn't seem appropriate for a Broadway theatre.

He wasn't at all restrained, however, when they started to file out and he was bouncing, now, however controlled.

"Holy hell..." he breathed. And then seemed to lose his words, though his eyes were wide and shining and he was looking at Devin with absolute glee, then looking around, then back at Devin, then back around. Delight threatened to burst out of him at every step.

Devin chuckled, delighted for him, with him. "I'm glad you enjoyed it so much."

He extricated them from the theatre, holding his hand through the crowd and starting them wandering back to the hotel, though he wasn't sure if that's where they should go, as hyped as Warren was.

Warren did settle down some, but not all that much, as they walked back. Walking with a bouncy, swaying stride alternated with excited, punctuating exclamations about the musical.

Devin listened and watched and laughed sometimes. It thrilled him to see Warren so happy. They got smiles in the lobby, though Devin didn't even notice this time.

"Drink down here? Up in the room?"

They could go out after the concert tomorrow.

"I dunno." Warren grinned. "You pick."

He looked at the bar. There were a lot of people in there, chattering away.

"Upstairs. We brought the whiskey."

He tugged him to the elevator, pushing their button.

Warren followed, too full of energy to be anything but eager.

He just about fell against the elevator wall, closing his eyes and sighing, a goofy smile on his face.

Devin grinned, shaking his head. When they got to the 10th floor he pulled him off and then to the room.

"Home again, home again."

Warren actually did bounce this time. Three times. Once the door shut he actually jumped up and down three times.

Then fell backwards onto the bed.

"How do people live without this..."

Devin laughed. "I've never understood it. It's one of my great joys."

And he was glad he'd gotten to share it with Warren.

"Whiskey?"

"Sure." Warren sat up a little on the bed. Just a little whiskey wouldn't hurt.

Devin poured them each a small glass. He wasn't looking to get sloshed.

He handed Warren his, then sat on the floor by his feet, back against the bed.

"To the theatre?"

Warren sat up straight this time, tossing his hair out of his face.

"To the theatre," he said, with greater solemnity than he'd shown for the past half hour (not that that was much), clinking his glass against Devin's.

His smile was brilliant, and happy.

It nearly took Devin's breath away. He rested his head back on the bed, smiling up at him.

"I'm glad I was able to take you."

"Mm." Warren smiled. "I'm glad, too."

"Wow..."

Devin reached back for his hand, playing with his fingers a bit.

"And Rent on Sunday. I think you'll like it."

"What's it about? I've heard of it, just... not that much."

Warren barely noticed Devin, or rather, barely noticed that it was unusual or dangerous. He played back, sliding his fingers along Devin's.

"It's a loose modern adaptation of La Boheme and by extension Moulin Rouge." Devin kept playing, idly, fingers along fingers and then his palm. "But very, very loose. It's about a group of friends, several of whom have AIDS who are artists in Alphabet City. Their lives, their loves. The way couples come together. And ultimately the lessons we learn about life through love."

"Huh..." Warren watched Devin's hand, working down his whiskey. "That sounds... interesting."

He smiled a little. "Sounds like fun."

"They're all rebels and bohemians. Musicians and artists and actresses. Some are gay. Some straight. Some bi. Couples and well, sort of one trio, but not really, of every mix."

He smiled, playing with Warren's class ring, fiddling with fingers.

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