Kalen Holliday
People are laughing and the dim light
catches around the room in bubbly cocktails of all colors. The laughing
crowd, for the most part, have no idea why the colors seem more vibrant
tonight. Kalen is even wearing color, although the shadows mute it.
Purple, because Kalen either loves purple or loves what it does to his
eyes, or both. There is a silvery-grey coat draped over a nearby chair
and Kalen is scanning a menu as though he is unaware of any of the
attention that he gets when he dresses up. He is anything but unaware;
and, though it would be tempting to dismiss his seeming lack of concern
as indifference, Kalen is not remotely indifferent. If he did not want
people to be wondering and whispering and pretending they were not
trying to figure out if his shirt was really pale purple and if he was
wearing eyeliner that glittered a little, he would have worn something
to blend in. If there are people trying uneasily to pretend not to be
looking at him, it is because Kalen wanted them to be be uneasy.
Okay,
and also because he loves both purple and glitter and anything that
makes his eyes look more dramatic because Kalen loves his eyes. He also
loves that Wesley loves his eyes, and even if he can't invite Wesley
out dancing until he ushers Orrin the fuck out of Denver, he is still
going out for drinks. Ian is not even remotely like Wesley, and Ian
does not tell him that he loves his eyes or read him poems, but Ian has
an entirely different beauty to Kalen.
Kalen is not as sure
about dancing with Ian right now, so Ian gets champagne cocktails.
Or...there's a full bar. There are options.
Not so far to his
left a young woman proclaims that her drink is heavenly, and the
corners of Kalen's mouth lift just a little, though his eyes stay on the
menu.
Ian
It's late to be out on a Wednesday,
but Corridor 44 is one of those places that tends to attract a late
crowd. Especially on Ladies Night, though the timing was likely
coincidental on Kalen's part. It isn't the first time Ian has been here,
but it's been long enough that most of what he remembers involves
champagne and kissing a girl from England named Laura (who he still sees
occasionally, though not in the same capacity.) He thinks of her
briefly when he opens the door, but it's only a passing memory. When he
gets inside, he finds Kalen sitting in the lounge area, looking lovely
in purple fabric and glittered eyeliner. His own eyes are mostly
undecorated, apart from a few flecks of glitter-dust that hadn't quite
washed off after the show.
"Hey," he says, smiling. His hand settles briefly on the top of the sofa behind Kalen's shoulder. "Room for one more?"
Ian's
hair is freshly done. The top is growing longer and a section of it
hangs over his forehead now. His dress shirt is a more casual cut (short
enough to leave untucked) with an ultra-slim fit. The color of the
fabric is a deep burgundy, with a high collar and rolled sleeves. His
jeans are white Pierre Balmain. Leather bracelets adorn both of his
wrists.
Of course there is room for one more, but he asks
anyway. And then he slides in beside Kalen, leaning back to rest his
head and gaze up at the ceiling. The room smells of champagne and
cocktails, and the lighting makes everything shine and glitter. It's the
sort of place that makes a person feel a little buzzed just from being
there. Ian breathes it in and exhales. Closes his eyes.
"I might actually get drunk tonight. Fair warning."
Kalen Holliday
Kalen,
who might have been engaged in pretending to be completely indifferent
to the crowd does not, at all, pretend to be indifferent to Ian. Ian
rests a hand on the couch behind Kalen's shoulder and the set of Kalen's
shoulders softens a little. There is not so much anticipation as there
once would have been perhaps, but Kalen still loves to be close to Ian.
To people he trusts in general, really. But he makes no attempt to
drape himself over Ian like he does over Alexander.
He smiles a
little as Ian settles beside him. There is a second where he regards
that tilted back head and the closed eyes. If Ian was someone else,
practically anyone else, he would run a hand through his hair. But
there is history that gets tangled up in their present sometimes, and
Kalen doesn't want to ruin this before it has really even started.
"I
suppose," Kalen says quietly, "that is what spare rooms are for." It's
light enough, because there is also that whole magic thing. Sobriety
is an act of will away for either of them, really. Though he would
bring Ian home. He would probably bring Ian back into his bed, though
that possibility doesn't even really occur to him.
"Do you
have a cocktail preference? Should I just order something?" There is
another pause, slighter this time, as Kalen smiles. That smile bleeds
into his voice as he asks, "Am I going to have to read you this menu
because opening your eyes to look at it is impossible?" And he is, in
some senses, teasing. He doesn't think that Ian would have any trouble
opening his eyes. But layered somewhere under the teasing there is real
offer. If Ian doesn't want to open his eyes, he doesn't have to.
Ian
"It's fine, I can walk home." When he opens his eyes, he casts his gaze toward Kalen thoughtfully. "Thanks though."
Even
like this, they maintain their boundaries. Kalen does not touch Ian's
hair, and Ian rebuffs the offer of shared space as though it is
something Kalen would offer to anyone (and maybe it is.) There is some
reluctance in the way he sits up; runs a hand through his effortlessly
styled hair and picks up the drink menu. But once he has his attention
focused, that momentary exhaustion seems to fade. A soft press of his
lips marks a moment of consideration.
"Why are champagne cocktails always so sweet?"
Finicky, as always.
At
some point a server comes by, and Ian, despite his seeming indecision
moments earlier, sets down the menu and asks for a classic champagne
cocktail, a pomegranate cocktail and a bourbon old-fashioned (because he
knows that he's going to want something familiar at the end.) He also
orders a half-dozen oysters.
When the server leaves, he glances at Kalen with a little smirk and says, "If I were going to fall asleep, I'd be at home."
Kalen Holliday
It
is not, not any longer, an offer Kalen makes easily. Not to everyone.
It is, at least in this moment, easily made to Ian. But Ian is one of
the few Magi that Kalen has told he brought home a terrified girl he met
while she was in the process of attempting to rob a cafe he was in at
gunpoint. That Kalen is, again, more possessive of his space is not so
easily grasped. "Ah. I never have known where you lived." But he has
never asked. He does not ask now.
Kalen orders a single flute
of ridiculously expensive champagne. At the last second he also orders
a Kir Royale, because fuck yes pomegranate and champagne. And because,
in ways that he does not linger on, he misses knowing what Ian tastes
like. Even if, on the whole, he likes what they are now better. Even
if.
There are still things that he misses.
"There is
a difference between having your eyes closed and being asleep," Kalen
says, though he sounds more amused than anything.
They're out
in public, having playful cocktails, because to Kalen champagne is
celebratory and playful. It also changes what they can discuss, and
that too is deliberate. "I am thinking," he says, "that if things stay
calm for awhile, once the out of town family is out of town again, I may
fly off for this underwater photography class in the Galapagos.
Turtles. Evolution. Chocolate tours."
Ian
No,
Ian never has mentioned where he lived to Kalen. He hasn't mentioned it
to most people. But when Kalen points this out, he doesn't let it slide
by unacknowledged, the way he often did (the way Kalen probably
expected.) Instead he regards Kalen for a quiet moment and says, "Not
far from here, actually. I'm over by the stadium."
He doesn't
go so far as to offer an address, but it's something. An acknowledgement
that he does have a space - and a neighborhood - which he claims as
home (however temporary he might still imagine that home to be.)
They
order expensive drinks and expensive food, and all of it is a little
bit extravagant, but it's nearing the end of the run for Ian's show and
he's spent far too little time in the past month doing things purely for
the sake of indulgence. When Kalen mentions touring the Galapagos,
Ian's brows lift in envy. "Fuck, that sounds fantastic."
He
says it the way that someone who has not been on a proper vacation in
far too long might say something like that. A moment later the rest of
Kalen's statement seems to catch up with him, because Ian cants his head
and asks, "family?"
Kalen Holliday
Kalen pauses when Ian volunteers information about where he lives. There is, after that, a very slight nod.
Ian's
brows lift and he says that the Galapagos sound fantastic and Kalen
nods. "I've never been. When I was in roughly that place I was...."
Recovering from a near-fatal brain injury. Barely walking. "Afraid to
go near the water." He sounds honestly excited about going though.
"You
okay?" Kalen does not seem as though he is terribly concerned; he
knows Ian has a show, he knows it's late, he knows Ian has other things
in his life to keep him busy. He suspects that if Ian was anything
beyond tired he would have just cancelled.
"Of the extended,
adopted kind." Kalen smiles, this time a bit weighted. "I think I may
need a break, once they've gone. It's...complicated. Balancing the
person your family wants you to be and the person your friends think you
should be and the person you think you should be." But at least the
person he thinks he should be made the list of considerations. It would
not have, most likely, when Ian met him.
Ian
It
isn't because he's trying to hide anything that he offers a small nod
when Kalen asks if he's okay. More, perhaps, that he would rather drink
champagne and relax and not think about whatever worries he might have.
Sad confessions were a thing best served at the end of an evening rather
than the beginning. "Just tired."
And anyway, Kalen has more interesting stories to tell. He usually does.
When
he clarifies this particular definition of family, Ian lifts his head
in understanding. "I would argue that any real family wouldn't ask you
to be someone other than yourself. But then, I don't know shit about
families. Not really, anyway."
Kalen Holliday
Kalen
reaches out to touch Ian's shoulder. Lightly. Briefly. Partly for
Ian and partly because he wants to feel that he's real.
"And
real friends," Kalen says quietly. "Though my experience with either is
limited." And there, again, is something weighted. Whatever anger
Kalen had, it really wasn't directed at Ian. And they've talked about
it, in their fashion. That weight is just...not something Kalen knows
how to shrug off entirely right now. Not while he has to weigh it
against other things.
But then he smiles, and it is perhaps a
tired smile but it is undoubtedly real for all that it lacks the
brightness and bubbliness of their champagne. Dark like pomegranate and
champagne. "For what it's worth, you do have me and I don't wish that
you were anything else." There is a slight pause. "Whatever happened.
I mean that. I'm glad I got to know you. I like you much better than
the person I tried to pretend for a minute you could be."
Ian
Though my experience with either is limited.
"Mm. Mine too."
Funny
that. Kalen, who had not one but multiple lovers at any given moment.
Who had a kind of family with Kharisma and Jack. Who, within months of
moving to Denver, had formed a large and eclectic cabal. Kalen who
always seemed to know everyone. Be friends with everyone. He defined his
friendships as limited. And Ian, who never seemed to want for
attention, claimed likewise.
But he will not say that he does
not have real friends (because he does.) And shaky though their
relationship is, he counts Kalen among them. Kalen touches Ian's
shoulder, and Ian does not seem to mind it. Physical contact is a form
of language. He knows this better than most. Knows the impulse behind
the way that Kalen touches him (like he needs to make sure that his
friends are really there.)
For what it's worth, you do have me.
Ian's smiles softly. The look is complicated, layered through with things-unspoken.
Then
their drinks arrive, and for a moment Ian is the person that Kalen
probably remembers. Someone sleek and beautiful who knows exactly how to
smile at a girl bringing him champagne and oysters so that he will
probably get one of his drinks comped. There's an easy confidence to it.
And when she leaves he lifts his first drink (the classic cocktail) and
downs about half of it with a graceful tip-back of his head.
"Yeah,
that's a drink a trophy wife would order." He laughs, but seems not to
totally mind it. "Did I ever tell you about the time some guy in New
York tried to make me his trophy boyfriend?"
Kalen Holliday
Kalen relaxes a little when smiles instead of pulling back at that...offering? Confession? Promise?
And
then their drinks are there and Kalen picks up his pomegranate drink
and takes a much smaller sip. Kalen wants to be dressed up and out and
holding a champagne flute and not alone, but he isn't really interested
in being drunk.
"Like those people who keep leopards as
pets?" Kalen sighs. "Tacky. But no. You hadn't." Leopards.
Considering what Ian was, he had to have deliberately avoided saying
tigers. Kalen resettles so that he's facing Ian, leaning sideways
against the back of the couch. And he waits, relaxed and a little
expectant. because it sounds like there's a story.
Ian
It isn't the first or the only incidence, this
particular story. But it is one of the easier stories to tell with a
glass of champagne in one hand and a chorus of warm laughter erupting
across the room. There are stories for sitting alone with a friend
somewhere safe and private. And then there are stories for cocktail
bars. Atmosphere is everything.
Like those people who keep leopards as pets?
"Apparently
Asians make the best props." He says it lightly, but there's a cold
prickle of disgust underlying the words. "I was working at a nightclub
in Greenwich Village. This was before I got scouted. And there was this
one customer who used to come in all the time and just sit at the bar
and flirt with me. He was kind of gross and racist, but he always left a
huge tip, so I tried to be nice to him. I really needed the money back
then. One night he comes in and hands me this envelope full of hundred
dollar bills, and is like I'll give you this much every week if you move into my place. Just think, I could have been someone's kept boy."
Ian
finishes off his cocktail and picks up an oyster. The sensation of it
sliding down his throat is slippery and cold, but it tastes fresh
(despite the locale) and the brine is a welcome counterpoint to the
champagne.
"My boss thought I was insane for turning him down."
Kalen
Kalen
barely smiles at Ian's statement about props, less because he is amused
and more because if Ian is going to try to keep this light he will as
well; but, even then, his eyes darken a little. There are moments it is
easy to forget his Order and his House, when Kalen is engaged and not
angry. In this moment he is freshly reminded that he is of House
Flambeau, just as he is reminded that war may be here soon enough. And
that heightened sense that his friends are threatens colors how he hears
this story.
I really needed the money back then.
Kalen's
eyes darken further. There were never moments where he had to make
that kind of compromise after he met Kharisma and Jack; they may not
have had the resources that Kalen later became accustomed to having at
his disposal, but there was never a moment where Kalen had to make those
plays to survive in that sense. Oh, there were times when he was bait
but that was hunting. That was not a position in which he felt the
sting of powerlessness, not even on the hunts where he was powerless
compared to his prey. Not with Kharisma. Not with Jack.
There are reasons that the years between when his sister died and he Awakened aren't stories he tells.
When
Kalen advocates that there are monsters to hunt in human form before he
starts hunting vampires, when Kalen alludes to there being more evil
than they can eradicate easily, when Kalen really thinks about
darkness...he doesn't usually picture the kind of monsters that are
lurking in bestiaries in their libraries. Those evils, he can fight.
He
goes, momentarily, every still. His eyes are on Ian and there is the
full weight of his attention for all his attention shifts from Ian's
eyes to the line of his jaw, to the way his throat moves as he swallow
the oyster.
"Your boss must never have been at the mercy of something like that." Something,
Kalen says. Ian has heard less contempt in Kalen's voice for zombies,
on occasion. There is one other thing Kalen has spoken of this way, but
he and Ian weren't close enough when it happened for Ian to hear about
that.
"And, at least for that reason, you will not have to be
again." Whether he means because Ian has escaped or because even if
everything goes wrong he will simply not permit that to come to pass is
unclear. Kalen is less easy to read now, eyes dark and tone edged.
Ian
"The
world is what it is. You can't make claims about what will or will not
happen. I can take care of myself now, and I could take care of myself
then. That's what matters." He picks up another oyster and swallows it.
There's an ease to the movement that suggests he eats them often. It may
very well be the first time Kalen has seen Ian enjoying food. It isn't
really that the story doesn't bother him. But there are a hundred
stories like it in his past (and his present,) and he will not give
those stories the power to define him.
"Anyway, I'm not so
self-absorbed as to think I have it worse than probably any woman in
this bar. And you... are not drinking much of your champagne. So maybe I
should change the subject." He smiles, and the look is almost
consciously beautiful. Trying to coax Kalen out of his mood, perhaps. It
is a thing he sometimes does without thinking - flirt to make people
feel better.
(Perhaps he is more defined by his past than he likes to think.)
"Why did you invite me here?"
Kalen
Oh. Yes. He has champagne.
Kalen
sighs and takes a sip of it. He does not bother to argue with Ian
about the claims he can or cannot make about the future. That smile
does get an echo, fainter and less flirtatious, from Kalen.
Why did he invite Ian here?
Kalen
takes another sip of champagne. Dismisses whatever place his thoughts
had gone for a different place. It doesn't seem to be much brighter
there. "Because I'm...caught in the middle of something I wanted to
forget. I wanted to dress up and get drinks and not be drowning in duty
and philosophy and what the implications of my choices might be.
"I
enjoy your company. You're one of the only people in Denver I'm really
speaking to, and one of an even smaller subsection of people in Denver
that I trust." There is a faint smile, though if he blushes, even as
pale as he is the light here hides it. Still, his eyes drop and for a
second he is looking at Ian through his eyelashes. "And, at least a
little, because I just like to see you. If I was a little less a bundle
of raw nerves I might have suggested dancing, but I still...." But
he's still vulnerable. Immediacy leaves him so unbelievably vulnerable
in ways he still doesn't know how to untangle.
And maybe it would be easier with someone else, but it would mean less.
He
takes another sip of champagne and his tone becomes a little more
measured, but his eyes still readable again now. There is no flight
away from being present, just a slight rein in on some of that emotion.
"It's complicated. I don't even know how complicated yet. It's...an
extended family thing."
Ian
"Well, I could
distract you. I hear I'm pretty good at that." Ian picks up the
pomegranate cocktail and downs a slightly more measured sip. The drink
is blood-red and leaves a faint stain of color on his lips. When he sets
the glass down he leans closer to Kalen and meets his eyes. "Or you
could just talk to me about it."
He doesn't say what he wants to say whenever he hears someone use that word (trust.) It is an act of will not to say it.
"Seems like maybe you need to."
Kalen
Ian is
good at distracting. Kalen definitely remembers that. It is, in
truth, part of why Ian is here tonight, for all Kalen doesn't expect
this to slip into old patterns of distraction. But then Kalen, for all
he knows just how to make a room hum with whispers and uneasiness and
attraction, tends to forget that he has much of an effect at all on
people who are not strangers.
Kalen learned how to influence targets. Very rarely does he apply his tricks on his friends.
"Perhaps
I might talk about it later. For now, even if I wanted to...I don't
know enough. It's politics. I just need to find some weaknesses.
Strike them. I'll be less tense when I know what I'm aiming for. But
for now, I have to be patient. Thus, champagne. And distractions."
[Author's Note: And so it was decided that Ian drank a lot of champagne, got kind of drunk and eventually walked home.]
