Mystere Du Le Kooza: Dinner Date
*I wanted to try something formal and slightly more story wise…and awkward, very awkward. All elements of Mystere AND Kooza belong to Cirque Du Soleil. WARNING: One-sided slash and some…SUGGESTED scenes…YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.
(MS tries to escape, but Trickster yanks him behind the big red curtain for act 1, scene 1)
This was probably the most embarrassing thing that had happened to him since Brian Le petit had locked him in the props closet with the female bird of Prey and green Lizard.
Here Moha-Samedi was, sitting on a love seat chair in a very nice restaurant, wearing a very nice tuxedo, nervously (and anxiously) browsing the menu as he waited for his "date" to arrive…
Except his date wasn't a woman…in fact, it wasn't just any character; either…it was the trickster of Kooza.
Most women would have squealed and fainted if they were honored enough to be asked out by the trickster to a date; Moha-Samedi, however, was NOT a woman, nor was he into men…
At first, Moha-Samedi IMMEDIATELY said no…first of all, he was straight, and second, why would he go out with a TRICKSTER by nature no less by title?
Turns out, according to Trickster, he possessed some "information" regarding La Belle, Moha's secret inspiration that would be of some VERY high value to the man in pink…
"But it would be so much more succulent over a garden salad with some wine, don't you agree?"
Realizing Trickster was NOT going to give him the information he wanted without an agreement, felt his stomach turn with nausea, his white based make-up doing little to hide the embarrassed red that slowly came to his cheeks as he looked down and murmured;
"What time?
Now, as Moha realized, again, why he was in this restaurant waiting for Mr. "Impending doom" to arrive, he dropped the menu onto the table and rubbed his temples as he mumbled to himself; "How do I sink myself into these scenarios?"
"Because you're so adorably naïve?"
The voice suddenly next to him made Moha-Samedi shoot his head up just in time to come face-to-face with the trickster, striped hat off his head, exposing his red hair, in a tuxedo similar to Samedi's (only difference being Moha had a bow tie where trickster wore a down tie).
Moha let out a shaky breath as Trickster chuckled, obviously amused by the Narrator's expressive surprise, written on his face like a book.
"How-wha-where did you come from?"
"The front door, you really are so much less vexing when alert," trickster responded as he took a sip of water (Moha had to practically force himself to mention to the hostess he was meeting someone AND or der TWO glasses of water while waiting).
Before Samedi could reply, the waitress came back around, "Hello! Would the two of you like anything else to drink?"
"I'll have a red wine," Trickster purred with a wink, causing the waitress to giggle and blush. Samedi had to "AHEM" quite loudly in order to get her attention, "I'll have a gingerale, please?"
The waitress nodded, composing herself, before gliding off. "Feeling nauseous, are we?" Trickster replied, giving the uptight narrator an arched eyebrow. "You were always one to dim the lights on the party…"
"I am not!" Moha scoffed, leaning his chin in his hand, looking away from the Trickster with an obvious look of displeasure on his face.
"Really? Because I think she was having a good time until you spo-"
Trickster caught himself when the emcee gave him a cold glare out of the corner of his eye. He did not want to be here for his amusement, he just wanted the information Trickster had for him, but Trickster knew he wouldn't relax unless he fed him the information in a slow, careful manner-feed him everything he wanted to know in one swoop, the narrator wouldn't have a reason to stay, and that would ruin the fun.
Trickster subtly positioned himself behind Samedi, causing the man to jump when the Trickster's hands rested themselves on his shoulders, alerting him of his closer-than-needed presence, but felt his body betray him as he obeyed the Trickster's silent suggestion, his shoulders relaxing under his skilled, powerful hands…
"Look, I-" Moha had to pause to take in a sharp inhale as Trickster's hands found an interesting rubbing pattern, making it hard to focus has his thoughts became lightheaded from the tension for a second or two. "I-I don't have all night, I'm only here because you said you had something to tell me about la Belle?"
"Well then, why don't you turn around so I can tell you?"
Moha was disturbed to realize that he could actually picture the suggestive smirk on Trickster's face as he murmured those words against his ear. Once again he sighed in frustration, WHY did he have to make this so HARD? Hastily, he impatiently whipped around in his seat, but then wished he hadn't, as trickster's face was only a few inches away from his…
Moha felt his breath shake with discomfort as Trickster's fingers brushed against his lips, softly tracing his Cirquish markings. "As you know, even those blessed with the gift of beauty are cursed, and that curse can strike fear into their lives, with no exception to your beloved la Belle…"
"I know, she fears of time robbing her beauty, so she's always fleeing," Moha replied, cautiously taking Trickster's fingers and moving them away from his face. That was all he wanted to tell him? He already knew that!
Yet alas, Trickster wasn't done yet, as he explored Moha's hands in his own, intertwining their fingers, tracing the tips of his palms, tracing the lines their like a palm reader, silently in awe of how long Moha-Samedi's life line was…it was endless, immortal, much like the knowledge of the man in pink himself…
"You think time is the only enemy to be fleeing? No, as well as the fear of losing one's beauty with age, there is also a fear in possessing it, for with beauty comes jealousy cast by others…and that shadow can be cast, also, upon those close to Aphrodite's maidens and chosen ones."
Moha shook his head, "why would someone be jealous of-"
He never got to finish that sentence, as Trickster leaned close and softly whispered in his ear;
"The shadow is watching."
His eyes then darted, for a split-second, over to their left. As Trickster's hand stroked his right cheek, Moha felt his face turn towards the left, and that's when he saw a face, two tables away, that stuck out to him like a black dot on a colorful painting…
A feminine, pale face, with short, black hair and dark eyes…
Moha nearly choked out the words from under his breath…
"Le Blanc…Black Widow…"
"Sh, don't look at her," Trickster whispered, his hand moving to his left cheek, caressing his jaw, "let me hold you, look this way…" he softly pressed Moha's face into his shoulder, away from Widow's dark, piercing gaze, practically straddling him in an embrace.
Moha felt his face burning…what was going on? Why was Black Widow here, and WHY was Trickster treating him like this, in front of her?
Of course, Moha-Samedi couldn't obtain an answer to any of these questions, as the waitress came back with their drinks. "Aw, what a cute couple you are!" She cooed, trickster smiling up at her as Moha felt a burning red blush cover his facing, actually forcing him to bury his face further into the Trickster's shoulder. "I believe we are ready to order, madame," trickster purred, "We'd like two garden salads please."
"Alright, what kind of dressing?"
"What would you like, DARLING?" Trickster was OBVIOUSLY implying Samedi, with a little TOO much enthusiasm, causing Moha to immediately shoot up in alarm.
"Excuse me, I am NOT your darl-"
However, Moha-Samedi found himself cut off by the strange look trickster gave him…it was something of a cross over between a puppy pout and a manipulative, icy gaze…
Moha sighed as he muttered, "French Ceaser, please."
"I'll have the same," Trickster coolly told the waitress as she nodded and rushed off.
Afterwards, Moha, with a hissing inhale, whispered sharply to the trickster, a the while blocking out the Widow's gaze with his hand, "WHY are you doing this? What does this have to do with the Black Widow and La Belle?"
"EVERYTHING," Trickster whispered back, taking the hand Moha-Samedi was using to block Widow's sight and held it firmly in his own grasp. "She, the Widow, is here because of you. She thought you were here to meet La Belle, because of her jealousy, but now that she sees that it's you and me, maybe, just maybe, if we play our cards right, if we feed each other's decks, she'll think you've turned over a new leaf, and stop obsessively stalking you…who knows, maybe it'll even save La Belle…"
"STOP stalking me? How was it that she was stalking me and you knew yet I didn't even notice?"
"Well, she is very subtle…like me," Trickster responded to Samedi's shock, "which is why I'm trying to help you out, by pretending we're lovers…"
"This is the most ridiculous plan I've ever heard!" Samedi hissed under his breath, "Brian Le Petit's plans have more gusto! I mean, how do you even know this will working? How do I know this isn't another one of your attempts to stalk me?"
Trickster sighed, seeming sad as he did so, "Look, if you don't believe me, I understand, based possibly overall on that last point you've made alone. I'll tell you what; just to seal the deal, if you kiss me on the lips right now, you can leave this restaurant and go home."
Samedi shook his head, "Are you kidding me with this? You always seem to sum up these scenarios as if no one else is watching or around!"
"So, which is it, yes or no?" Trickster asked, tilting his head questionably.
Samedi sighed in anger…this man was INSUFFERABLE! Yet, he didn't want to stay in this place, with this manipulative, lying, infuriating TRICKTSER!
Feeling a migraine coming on, he miserably closed his eyes…
After a few seconds of waiting, he opened them to see the trickster, looking at him with an arched eyebrow, head still tilted to one side.
"What?"
"Is that really your best option? I said YOU kiss ME, not vice-versa."
Moha gave him a cold, 'you're kidding, right?' look as the waitress returned with their food. "Thank you," both men said in serious unison, still looking at each other, cuing the waitress to leave them be…
Samedi took a deep breath as he hissed, "Look, I can't read you the way you can read me, and I'm NOT one to play silly games, but most importantly, I don't care if Black Widow stalks me over La belle, I just don't want my realm thinking I'm someone interested in someone I'm not!"
Trickster didn't respond right away, instead he picked up his fork, twirled it about between his fingers for a few seconds, as if in thought…and then "accidently" dropped it underneath the table.
"Hold that thought, butterfingers," Trickster murmured as he dove beneath the table…Moha placed his forehead against his fingers, muttering "unbelievable," beneath his breath, leaning an elbow against the table with his eyes clenched shut as he tried to comprehend the rest of the evening…
Yet he was caught off guard when he felt the strange sensation of hands running up and down his leg…
(WARNING: SUGGESTED moment here, nothing "happens" though…)
Trickster grinned as he forced himself between the narrator's legs, holding them open with his shoulders…and with one, subtle peck on his inner thigh, he could picture Moha's hand gripping the table cloth, his knuckles gone pale white from tension and shock…
(End suggestive moment)
That picture became reality, complete with Moha's shocked face, his body upright and alert, as trickster arose back into his seat, licking his lips suggestively as he twirled the now retrieved fork between his fingers once more…
Moha couldn't believe he'd just done that…his body lacked a response to what had just happened altogether! Yet, as he shakily composed himself, and looked back over two tables away from them…the Black Widow was gone.
With a shaky sigh of relief, Moha turned towards the still gleeful Trickster and murmured, "Look, I understand you REALLY want to help me, but even if you DID want to PRETEND to be my lover, we're too different! I'm…loyal to my family, I take respionsibilty VERY seriously, and I try to be blunt to the point of honesty. Yet you…you're a manipulative Trickster who sugar-oats the truth, and possesses popularity like a trophy pin on your sleeve! I'm sorry, but acting or not…this just isn't going to work out…"
…
… "Oh really?"
…
Next thing Moha-Samedi knew, he was being pushed into a very elegant, Victorian era-styled hotel room, Trickster's lips feircly locked onto his, ripping Moha's tie off as he kicked the door behind him closed with his foot…
…
…
Moha gasped in shock as he finally came out of his trance like wave of horror, realizing what he'd just allowed Trickster to do with his body…he looked over to the said-sly-fox, electric blue eyes admiring him, both of them breathing with the same, heavy-yet-satisfied exhaustion.
"H-How-"
"Hm?" Trickster asked, knowing with self-congratulation that he was behind Samedi's lack of energy.
"How-do I end up-falling for your tricks?"
Trickster grinned, chuckling as he ran a head through Samedi's hair…
"Because you're so adorably naïve."
OKAY AND THAT'S A WRAP! ONE-SHOT, IF I EVER GO ANY FARTHER PLEASE KNOCK ME OUT!
Moha: GLADLY