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?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"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.

Warren smiled a little more, watching him. "The so-called lunatic fringe."

"Yep. Them's my people..." He grinned up at him.

"Them's your people?" Warren grinned back. "I guess them's my people, too."

Devin laughed. "I guess they are now. Good songs, too. Get stuck in your head."

He moved to tracing his tattoo.

"You always have music stuck in your head," he teased.

Watched Devin's fingers moving over his wrist.

"Well, yeah," Devin acknowledged with a chuckle. "But they're songs..." He shrugged a little. "I get them, you know?"

Back down to his fingers, his ring.

"I think I know," he nodded, half-murmured.

He finished his whiskey and watched him play, thinking.

Devin finished his, setting the glass aside. The shiny of the ring kept drawing it back to him, the fire in the stone fascinating him.

"I think you'll like it...."

Warren chuckled, setting his glass on the nightstand. "I'm sure I will."

He thought about reaching out, touching Devin's hair, stretching out on the floor. Decided, for now, just to watch him play.

Devin wove his fingers through Warren's, then pulled them free, then wove them in again.

"There's one song 'La Vie Boheme.' It's..." He grinned a bit. "Well. Fun."

Warren's eyebrows shot up. "Fun?" He grinned, squeezed Devin's hand. "Why is it fun?"

"Yep. It's basically the 'screw conformity and doing what we're supposed to by your standards' song. With lots of sexual references in it."

He ficked a finger over each of Warren's fingertips.

"Ah-huh."

He was fairly sure there was a message in there, if kindly meant.

He smiled, turning his hand around to slide his fingers lightly over Devin's palm.

Devin just smiled, repressing the shiver that light touch set off. HIs fingers curled, scraping over Warren's palm in return.

Warren watched their hands moving over each other, swallowed slightly at the way they touched.

No, maybe it was safer up here on the bed for now.

He turned his hand back over, palm up. Not quite sure what he was asking or inviting.

Devin turned a bit, onto his hip, ignoring how close that put Warren's thigh. He traced his finger over the lines of Warren's palm.

"Now I'm wishing I'd paid more attention to the gypsies I traveled with for a while."

Warren looked amused. "You really had a lot of adventures, didn't you."

"Could always make something up."

"A few..." Devin said with a small smile.

"Hmm..." He traced the longest line with the tip of his finger. "I see a very long, healthy life. A career that's a calling more than just a job. And a home with someone you love."

"Huh."

Though he leaned back a little, not pulling away, but his face fell into the shadow of his hair again.

It was enough of a withdrawal that Devin winced a little.

He tried a small smile, not wanting to ruin the mood. "But then, what do I know?"

"I dunno, you tell me," Warren said, looking at him with a sudden intensity that was at the same time pleading and demanding.

And then he sighed, curled his fingers around Devin's. This wasn't the way he wanted things to go. "Anyway, I'm not ready to settle down that soon, although it's nice to know it's waiting for me." Back to a lighter tone, a small smile.

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