This has been sitting on the burner for a while because I was attempting to write this collection chronologically (of course I jumped ahead to the serious shipping straight away) but I've given up. Also, I've just been reading HolidayBoredom and am now coming to (sad, sad) terms with the utter futility of my own literary attempts. At least in return I get to be well entertained!
All beta-ing thanks to ilex-ferox!
The ending is a little 'meh', sorry guys.
The Birthday Party
Music was blaring, the rumbling bass making the ancient wooden staircase of the entrance hall creak in protest. It was Artemis's twenty-first birthday; or his eighteenth, depending on how you looked at it. His parents had spared no expense, turning the baroque ballroom at the back of the west wing into a dance club, complete with lights, lasers and all the fantastically rich children of all their fantastically rich friends.
Despite his parents' unspoken hopes, Artemis had so far spent most of it sitting on said staircase with Butler, drinking Redbreast. Neat.
"It's a good thing your parents left," Butler commented, still nursing his first glass. "Your mother would be terribly disappointed that you're not dancing."
Artemis, well into his fourth, shot his friend a withering look. "I don't dance."
"No need to tell me that, I remember trying to teach you to foxtrot." Butler, of course, was an excellent dancer, though perhaps not in quite the same style as the dancers who were currently sweating away in the ballroom. "Pity, though, Holly certainly seemed to be enjoying herself."
Artemis muttered something that sounded like "I'd like to see her dance her way through string theory", but Butler pretended not to hear.
At that precise moment Holly herself appeared, coming in through a set of vibrating French windows as though summoned. It was baffling, Artemis thought to himself as she crossed toward them, how someone who only toped four foot at fancy-dress parties could manage, via heels and an empire waistline, to have legs that seemed to go on and on. And on. He looked back down at his glass.
"Seriously, Artemis," said the elf, coming to a stop before them, her hands planted squarely on her hips, "even Minerva's dancing. For Frond's sake, I'm risking my life in these heels, the least you could do is dance with me."
"I don't dance," Artemis repeated himself, swallowing the last of his whiskey. He didn't see Butler and Holly mime his response to each other.
"And I don't wear dresses. However..." Holly gestured to her body eloquently.
Artemis didn't look: her body was quite eloquent enough without her showing it off and he was just drunk enough to end up saying something embarrassing.
Holly rolled her eyes and flopped down between the two men. "Well, if this is how you're going to be," she said, and kicked off her heels.
"Don't take them off yet, I'll dance with you," offered Butler.
Holly grinned up at him and punched his arm. "Yes!" she crowed. "All I want is a good tango or something, yeah? Don't get me wrong—fairies love to dance, we'll dance to anything—but the kids in there, they aren't so much dancing as ... well ... you know what I mean." Butler was very aware of what she meant.
"Juliet's not getting into any trouble, is she?"
"No-o, trouble is not the word I would use, no." Holly avoided his eyes as she slid her feet back into her shoes.
Butler sighed, but by then Holly was on her feet, hands outstretched. He twirled her around a few times before they settled into a swing beat that could be overlaid onto the bass line coming from the ballroom.
Artemis set down his glass and watched, his chin resting on one hand, elbow balancing on his knee. They were both excellent dancers. He smiled, enjoying the show, as their aerials became progressively more outrageous.
If he were to be honest with himself, Artemis would admit that this was all he wanted on his birthday: these two people. These two people and just a few minutes of peace for them to enjoy themselves, without having to run around saving the universe. He didn't even care if they fought the whole time, just so long as it was with each other and not trolls or goblins or megalomaniac pixies.
Laughing, they returned to him as the song ended. As they sat down again Butler coughed, trying to hide how out of breath he was. Holly tsk-ed at him, seeing straight through the pretense. "I keep telling you, you can't over-exert yourself! Your heart, Butler!"
"I'm Butler," he growled at her, swatting her head gently, "I'll dance the Lindy Hop if I want to."
Holly chuckled, her arms sliding through those of the two men on either side of her. She leaned her head on Butler's shoulder and wormed her fingers into Artemis' hand, squeezing his fingers gently. His lips twitched and he squeezed back. The three of them sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, enjoying each other's presence and ignoring the distant cries of the dancers.
Artemis ran his thumb along the back of Holly's hand and surreptitiously watched her legs rearrange themselves. The last time he'd seen this much of her skin had been during a trip to the beach, the one sunny day they'd had in August. She and Juliet had been the only ones brave enough to go swimming. For the first time that night, Artemis was glad his mother had insisted on a fancy-dress party for his birthday.
"Hey, Butler, would you mind if I borrowed Artemis for a while? I forgot his present upstairs," Holly's tone was innocent as she broke the silence. Too innocent.
Butler raised an eyebrow. "There's a table for gifts in the ballroom, why not just leave it there?"
"We-ell," Holly met Butler's eye and gave him the tiniest of wicked smiles, "how would I know if he liked it, if I just left it on the table?"
"Of course," said Butler, returning her smile, rolling his eyes as though at his own silliness. "How true."
Holly made a noise that, coming from anyone else, would have been labelled a giggle. She kissed Butler's cheek, slipped her arms out of the men's, and started up the stairs, knowing Artemis would follow.
Artemis, aware (and irked) that he was missing an integral part of the subtext, interjected, "You didn't need to buy me a present, Holly. Surely you know that."
From a few stairs above, she looked back at him over her shoulder. "Did I say I bought you something?" she asked, feigning confusion, and kept climbing.
Artemis mouthed 'What?' as he stood to follow. "I'll only be a moment, Butler," he called behind him.
"I wouldn't count on that, if I were you," Butler muttered to himself as he made shooing motions with his hands. He began to pick up the evidence of their whiskey escapade but paused, looking up just before his charge disappeared from view. "Artemis?" he called.
"Yes?" A pale face turned back towards him from the gloom of the stairs.
"Happy Birthday, Artemis."
"Thank you, Butler." And, with that, he disappeared.
Butler shook his head, smiling, and took the glasses away to the kitchen.
Artemis caught up with Holly outside his bedroom.
"You left my gift in here?" he asked as they went in. "Weren't you worried that I would find it?"
She laughed at that, closing the door behind them. The curtains were open, and though there was no moon, the dim, golden glow of the fairy lights in the garden below lit the room just enough for them to see each other. "Not at all, I hid it where even you would never think to look."
"Oh?" he turned to face her. He felt suddenly self-conscious; the whiskey was beginning to fade and here he was all alone with her in her little dress and her endless legs and what Juliet would call "mood lighting", completely out of his depth. "And where would that be?"
She smiled and stepped towards him. "Right under your nose," she said, chuckling to herself at some joke he didn't get. There was the sound of fabric slipping and, before he had time to react, her dress fell to her feet. Artemis got the joke.
"Literally," he whispered, looking down at her.
She snickered, and put a hand over her mouth, but he could see the corners of her mouth twitch behind her fingers.
He looked at her a moment longer; she had dressed for the occasion, with lacy black underwear and thigh-high nylons. He looked back to her face and her still-twitching lips. She was so incredibly dear to him he could hardly bear it. The feeling rose in his chest like a wave and stopped his throat. Every other thought and fear and scheme was drowned in it, their sopping remains swept away by the undertow.
"Happy Birthday, Artemis," she said, and stepped out of the pool of fabric, graceful despite the high heels.
"This is... rather generous of you," he said, wishing he could find the right words. Wishing that words were at all adequate for the situation.
"Well, what do you get the man who has everything?" she asked.
He laughed and pulled her to him. Her arms went around his waist, as they had so many times before. His hands moved over her skin, more of it than he had ever seen, and he smiled into her hair. "Let me look at you," he whispered at last, and she laughed again, her head on his heart. They remembered the last time he'd said that, so young and battered and desperate for reassurance.
"And here I thought you'd just been worried about me," she accused, pushing away from him gently; letting him look. "All these years!"
"I was worried about you," he said, his thumb running along her cheek. "But it was also a useful excuse. You could be wearing a sack, having just crawled through one of Mulch's tunnels, and I'd still want to look at you."
She smiled, catching his hand in her own. "Now that's love."
There was silence for a second; that was a word they had always avoided.
"Yes," Artemis said finally, "I believe it is." And then he reached for her and they didn't need to say anything else.
