Glass -- New York, Friday Night

[killingsoftly]

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?"

Comments

[firebugwarren.livejournal.com]

"Mmm-hmm."

Warren swirled a piece of bread around the fondue.

"I didn't know you were a fan of the scientific method. Thorough research."

[killingsoftly.livejournal.com]

"I am always very thorough," Devin said sipping at his wine.

[firebugwarren.livejournal.com]

"Mm-hmm." Warren smiled a little, glancing around. "So I've noticed."

[killingsoftly.livejournal.com]

Devin chuckled. "I'm glad to see you've been paying attention, my young apprentice."

[firebugwarren.livejournal.com]

"Yes, My Master..." Warren made his best Darth Vader voice.

[killingsoftly.livejournal.com]

Devin almost choked on his wine, laughing.

[firebugwarren.livejournal.com]

Warren smirked. "I win."

[killingsoftly.livejournal.com]

Devin shook his head and took another sip of wine, not choking this time.

"You win," he acknowledged with a grin.

[firebugwarren.livejournal.com]

Warren gave him a little self-satisfied smirk, nibbling at his dinner some more.

[killingsoftly.livejournal.com]

Devin watched him, smiling as he finished his dinner, pouring them both more wine, and then leaning back again, fingers playing with his wine stem absently.

[firebugwarren.livejournal.com]

Warren finished, mostly, the food was richer than he was used to but he managed, and besides it was all so good.

And then he was leaning forward against the table a little, again, looking over at him shyly from beneath his hair.

[killingsoftly.livejournal.com]

The waitress came and cleared their plates and brought them fresh apple tarts and cream for dessert. Devin reached across the table again, tucking Warren's hair back.

"It's a shame to hide those beautiful eyes."

[firebugwarren.livejournal.com]

Warren looked a little startled at that, blushing. But it brought an unexpected, bright smile out of him.

"Uh..." Sometimes Devin could still take him by surprise. He didn't know what to say. "Mm."

[killingsoftly.livejournal.com]

Devin just smiled a real smile back at him and started on his tart.

[firebugwarren.livejournal.com]

Warren ducked his head again as he started, out of habit.

After a moment, though, after the first bite he lifted his head and pushed his hair back a little, straightening up.

He left the red lock dangling, though.

[killingsoftly.livejournal.com]

That made Devin smile, another soft smile, watching him. He couldn't finish the tart, though he managed most of it. He gave the waitress his credit card when she went by, the settled back to savour his wine and watch Warren.

[firebugwarren.livejournal.com]

Warren couldn't quite look at him, and couldn't quite look away. He blushed a little, feeling it slowly fade as he ate his dessert and things started to slide back into feeling normal again.

By the end of it he was smiling back, easily, almost rakishly.

[killingsoftly.livejournal.com]

Devin returned the grin as he signed the credit card slip. "Ready to head to the theatre?"

[firebugwarren.livejournal.com]

"Ready if you are."

[killingsoftly.livejournal.com]

"Always," Devin said with a little wink, standing.

[firebugwarren.livejournal.com]

Warren laughed, soft and easy. Stood with him.

Moved close enough to slide his arm around his waist, although he wasn't sure he should.

[killingsoftly.livejournal.com]

Devin smiled, his arm settling around Warren's shoulder as they moved out, pressing a little closer as they walked.

"We've got time to walk up Broadway to get there. It's about a half mile."

[firebugwarren.livejournal.com]

Warren did settle an arm around his waist at that point, strange as it seemed. But they started walking, and it was easier than he'd expected to walk like that with someone who's around his height.

"That's cool," he smiled. "Bright lights, big city?"

[killingsoftly.livejournal.com]

"You have to love it." Although he was just as comfortable, maybe moreso, in a cabin in the woods with the sounds of crickets.

The theatre-goers were out in force, moving up and down Broadway, standing in line. Some had gone all-out wearing formal wear, while others were in jeans and others somewhere in between.

They attracted a lot of attention from tourists, though the New Yorkers paid them no mind.

[firebugwarren.livejournal.com]

Warren ignored them. Most of them. It wasn't that bad. It was just stares, and these stares were at least sort of better than the ones he'd gotten at Sky High. For most of his life.

There were some whispers too, though. The one from the man from Tennessee, Kentucky, something like that. That stung. Made his hand clench into a fist for a moment.