He gets drunk. With Bloom.
Baltor doesn't get drunk often. Mostly because when he does, things tend to go horribly wrong. Things like purchasing his first plane ticket to America (in coach), blowing up a small portion of Cloud Tower's library (luckily with all the boring spells), and - on one occasion decades ago - snogging Daphne in a spare bedroom during a royal ball to try and gather information on Sirenix (that one is particularly fuzzy in his memory, which these days Baltor considers a blessing). Getting drunk also (usually) means worrying his powers will misbehave, especially the dark magic. But of course it's been a few years since his last drunken escapade, and he no longer has any dark magic to worry about.
Bloom's tolerance has also improved.
They don't set out to get drunk, that much Baltor recalls. But one thing leads to another at dinner, and before he knows it they're ordering a second bottle of wine and taking a cab back to his apartment because neither of them can work a teleportation spell. And the only other thought he's able to clearly process in his head (besides wow, I'm drunk) is thank God we ate in town instead of Paris.
"God it's cold in here."
"A bit," Baltor takes his coat off and hangs it in the entryway closet. Winter is starting to settle into the city, with temperatures dipping below the tens when the sun sets (and the sunsets, too, are happening earlier and earlier. It's his least favorite part of London - how little light there is in winter). "Part of it's just you, though."
Bloom rolls her eyes, shrugging out of her own grey wool coat and passing it to him to hang up. "I never understood how we get colder easier if our power is the Dragon Fire."
"Because you're more accustomed to heat, which makes the cold more noticeable. But of course," he gives her a pointed look. "It could also just be your inner Californian."
"Oh har har," Bloom says, and disappears around the corner into the kitchen.
He smiles as she goes. While his own reaction to drunkenness is self-destruction, Bloom's is bluntness. Not rude, per say, but certainly uncaring of the general public's perception of her. Part of that is a problem (like asking too many personal questions to their cabbie), but the other part is brushing off people asking if she's that fairy and laughing so hard no sound comes out when she hears a good joke. To Baltor, the pros easily outweigh the cons. A few awkward encounters are worth Bloom not caring the weight of the world on her shoulders.
He likes seeing her relax, for once.
The sound of a cork popping brings him out of his thoughts, and he goes around to the kitchen in time to see Bloom pouring two glasses of wine from a half-drunk bottle (that was up until a minute ago) from the fridge. "And what are we doing?" he asks, looking pointedly at the glasses.
"Well, I'm obviously not going back to Magix tonight. So I may as well keep the party going."
"You and what partygoers?" Despite the tone, he still reaches out and takes one of the glasses. "I'm planning to sit on the couch and read. Maybe turn on the television, but that's generous."
"And take where I was planning to sleep?" She smirks at him. "That seems especially cruel."
"Stop it, you can sleep in my bed."
It takes him a sip of wine to realize there may be something else to interpret from that sentence, and he starts thinking of way to both apologize but not outright dismiss the idea as impossible. Which is already proving difficult given his level of intoxication.
But before he can, Bloom laughs.
It's so sudden and loud Baltor jumps, and then keeps staring at her as she desperately tries to regain control of herself. "Are you all right?"
"I...sorry I just," she gestures with the hand not holding the glass. "I think the reality of the situation just sort of plowed into me."
"Situation?"
"Yes, Baltor, situation." He must still look dumbfounded because Bloom shakes her head and keeps going, pointing emphatically as she speaks. "Namely that I am sitting here in an apartment I helped steal, with you. One of the most hated men in the dimension. And we should be fighting in hand-to-hand combat but instead we're drinking a pinot noir.
"Come on," she pauses to take another drink of said pinot noir. "On some level you have to find this hilarious, too."
He finds it ironic, maybe a little sad in some respects when he thinks about the things she could be doing if she wasn't held back by him (which he does think about from time to time, but usually never seriously), constantly coming back to Earth instead of furthering her education or bonding with Oritel and Miriam and Daphne. Out loud, though, he only says: "If you'd told me four years ago this would be my life, I would've assumed you inhaled a hallucinogenic."
"Did you think about it? Before all this?"
His mind jumps back to Ogron of all people, leaning against a kitchen counter with a knowing smirk on his face. He's often wondered if, subconsciously, his actions were a result of the other man's ideas. It's not something he spends long contemplation out of fear he's right. But then the thoughts dip back further, to the Museum of Magix where he first saw Bloom with Enchantix. She was fierce, long legs and nimble fingers and for a split second all he could think was -
Baltor shakes the thought out of his head. "Not in a way I'm particularly proud of."
Bloom raises an eyebrow. "You know, you might have actually succeded at taking over the free world if you'd had my help instead of the Trix."
"Yes well…they were a bit more willing to help then you were."
She makes a hmm of agreement into her wine glass before setting it down. "What -" she starts, and stops for a moment before she shakes her head in resolve. "What does it feel like?"
"...What does what feel like?"
"Your mark."
He blinks at her. Bloom's face shows genuine curiosity, but underneath the hanging pendant lights of the kitchen he sees a flush on her face that wasn't there earlier. She's trying to get at something, but he hasn't figured out what yet. But until then, Baltor decides he can humor her. "Well it...depends, I suppose. The version I used on the Cloud Tower witches was totally controlling with just enough room to keep them from starving to death. So...probably akin to walking in a fog and following orders without question.
"But there is a milder version - one I used on the Trix, Countess Cassandra, Di -" he stops short, unsure of what Bloom's reaction would be to the princess of Isis in her current state. He fakes a cough and continues. "That one was more about giving people power to help carry out their own dark plans. They didn't need to be controlled."
Bloom huffs. "Their own dark tendencies did that for them."
"There was still darkness in the spell - there always is with overtaking magic. But they didn't need to be forced into following my orders." He raises an eyebrow. "Why the curiosity?"
Her eyes dart away from him. "I was just...interested. I wanted to know what it would feel like."
"You likely wouldn't remember much if it was the mind-control version."
"What about the other one, though? We're already so sensitive to each other's power."
"I-I…" he doesn't know what to say, because it's actually an interesting question. "I'm not sure. It might not do anything, especially since I don't have dark magic anymore."
"Hmm," she nods and takes another sip of wine.
Baltor knows her far better than that. Though she's staring at the backsplash of his kitchen, he sees that spark of curiosity in her eyes. And he knows, he really does, that this isn't a good idea while they're drunk. Magic with any level of intoxication is bad. But there are certain things he's very good at - spells he can do in his sleep because he was the one to build them from the ground up.
And he's weak.
"We could try it if you want."
This brings Bloom's gaze back to him. "Really? The alcohol won't bother you?"
"No. Besides, by the time we're both sober you'll probably tell me you were joking."
She doesn't deny it outright, which is as close to a confirmation as Baltor's going to get. Instead she puts the glass down. "Tell me what to do then."
He doesn't have to do this. The spell could be thrown in a ball of magic just as easily. But Baltor still straightens up and goes to stand in front of Bloom. That look in her eyes is still there, and it makes the (already quiet) voice of reason fade in his mind. There's no asking as he takes her jaw in his hands, tilting her head to one side. Bloom allows herself to be moved, taking hold of his bicep to steady herself. He leans in to study her neck, so focused on the way her muscles jump as his hair whispers against her skin, he momentarily forgets what he's doing.
"Hold still for me," he murmurs, mapping out a small patch of skin just behind her ear. "This might sting."
Bloom's only response is a low hum of agreement. Her fingers squeeze around him.
For a moment, Baltor forces his mind to slip into a state of focus. Only when he's sure he has enough control does he begin, tracing the familiar pattern out on Bloom's skin. The layers of magic burn a bright red line into her skin, forming yet another link between them. But unlike the Dragon Fire or the pretending to die or all the damn secrets from people, the idea of this leaves a pleasant feeling in his stomach. It shouldn't, by all accounts, but it's something Baltor's wanted in one way or another for literal years.
"Baltor?" Bloom asks, her voice much softer than it had been before.
"Almost," he says, and once he's sure everything is in place, leans down and presses his lips to the symbol's center, whispering the final word of the spell to activate it.
He feels it before his lips leave her neck - a connection of raw power pinging back and forth between them, slowly at first, and building until it seems everything about them is connected. It's a normal sensation for him, but connecting to someone with the Dragon Fire intensifies it in a way he didn't expect.
He suddenly knows spells Bloom's learned at Alfea, but he can also feel her heartbeat as if it's in his own chest.
Bloom gives a startled gasp, and without looking Baltor knows her knees are about to give. He pulls her against his chest, taking her weight for a few moments while she adjusts to the sensation of the spell.
"Easy, easy…" Baltor says into hair. "It's okay."
"Sorry," Bloom starts laughing again, and stops almost as instantly. "It's just…"
"Strong?"
"Very. Is it...always like this?"
Part of his ego wants to lie, but the part of his brain able to come up with something convincing shut down around drink number three. "No. It must be the Dragon Fire. Or the alcohol. Or both."
"Both makes sense."
He looks down at her in time to see her eyelids flutter. "Are you all right, Bloom?"
"Yeah, I-I'm fine, I just…haven't felt anything like this before."
Bloom looking up at him is the mistake. Magical overload is a common reaction to two people sharing power as intimately as they are. Baltor knew it was a possibility - even more so given Bloom's level of intoxication. But he didn't expect to feel her heart speed up the moment their eyes meet. And it's wrong, he knows it is, but there's something about seeing Bloom with his mark pulsing on her neck and a half-lidded, dazed look in her eyes that makes him hungry.
Something in the room shifts, and he knows Bloom's picked up on it when a bit of perception comes back to her face. "Baltor? Are you -"
She doesn't finish. He doesn't let her. Instead he takes the back of her neck and pulls her to him, kissing into her open mouth.
For a moment Bloom doesn't respond, and Baltor worries he's let his darker emotions get the best of him. It proves to be untrue when she sighs and angles her mouth better against his own. Her hands disappear from his arms and come back around his neck, pulling his head down to meet her more easily. He can't hear her thoughts specifically - neither his mark nor the Dragon Fire connection support such a thing - but everything about her reaction and the energy around them is begging for things to go on.
She kisses him back, messy and enthusiastic and with just the right amount of pressure that makes him moan, low in the back of his throat. Bloom shivers and presses her body against his and it's good, god, it's all so good and for an indescribable amount of time every thought in Baltor's head is about her; her lips, her tongue, her moans. When the angle of his neck starts to bother him he lifts her onto the counter and keeps going, his tongue sliding across her lips and dipping into her mouth.
Bloom gasps, but doesn't try to break the kiss either, twisting bits of his hair around her fingers and pulling to keep him in place. When even that doesn't feel close enough, he slides his hands down her body and pulls her legs apart, stepping into the space and pulling Bloom into him. She lets out a soft mewling sound that makes Baltor go cold and then so much hotter than before, and the lust in the air presses down around them, eager, encouraging them to -
There's a deafening crash of glass breaking.
Something stings Baltor's leg through his pants, and he pulls himself away from Bloom, biting back a yelp of pain. He looks around wildly for a few seconds, trying to find the source of the noise.
"Shit," Bloom mutters.
He looks down. The long-forgotten wine bottle lays in pieces on the floor, dark red liquid splattered on the tile and their legs, directly above where Bloom accidentally knocked it off the counter. There's something so ordinary about the sight that brings reality crashing over Baltor like a bucket of cold water. He gives a long sigh, and waves his hand. The glass shards rattle in place before zipping over and knitting themselves back together into a bottle. The wine as well comes together in a ball of floating liquid, which Baltor promptly levitates to the kitchen sink and pours down the drain.
When he looks back at Bloom, still breathing hard from their escapades, he knows for sure the moment is shattered like the wine bottle. Their gazes lock, but the unfiltered desire from earlier is gone. He snaps again, and the mark on her neck goes dark before fading away entirely.
She blinks in surprise, and sighs, leaning her head back to stare at the ceiling. "Wow."
Baltor turns and leans against the counter next to her. His legs suddenly feel weak. "That...well."
"Well," Bloom repeats, and looks over at him. She gives a half smile that seems almost shy. "You've been holding out on me."
He chuckles. "Me? What about you holding out?"
"I haven't -" she starts to argue, then stops. "I worry sometimes, I guess. That this is going too fast. That we've only been together a few months."
"A few months after how many more of longing?" Baltor takes satisfaction at the color returning to Bloom's cheeks, but quickly buries the thought in his head along with all the other darker ones his mind has been lingering on. "I don't want to rush you, Bloom. And I don't want you to think I'm trying to influence you. I've done so much wrong by you over the years…"
"Stop, it is not that." she says, and Baltor knows she means it by her tone. "I do...of course I do. How could I not, with you?"
"I can think of a few reasons." He reaches out and takes her hand, running his fingers over her knuckles. "Including we should probably be sober if it happens."
"When." Bloom gives him a very pointed look. "But yes. Sober would be good. And when I don't have to worry about being back at Alfea or Sparx or what Selina and the Trix are doing next. At the right -"
"Time," Baltor finishes, resignation in his voice. Timing. The unfortunate factor that seemed to be so against their relationship. "I know."
He knows from the look Bloom gives him that she wishes she could take it back. "I'm sorry."
It's his turn to be pointed. "It's what you do. I knew that even before I started dating you."
The 'dating you' comment makes Bloom grin, and with a huff of resignation she hops off the counter, pulling her skirt back down. "I'm going to change out of this and find some aspirin. You do have aspirin, right?"
"Bathroom," he says, and gives her a half smile. "If you need help out of that…"
"I will not be calling you." Bloom smirks, and leans up to kiss him. It's light and teasing, but the underlying lust from moment ago is gone. "But I will take the bed if you're serious."
"Of course."
"Okay." For a brief second he sees something flash across her face, but he can't make it out before it's gone. "Thank you. And for dinner."
"Anytime, Bloom. Wake me before you go?"
Bloom waves a hand in agreement, and goes back to the bedroom. Baltor stares after her, even after the door closes, drumming his fingers against the black marble.
When. Not if. When.
Baltor leaves the wine glasses. He can deal with them in the morning.
Who would win: two characters with 30 chapters of building sexual tension, or one loud glass boi.
Fandom Grandma Ember reminds all you youngsters to please drink responsibly, and always ask consent!
Many thanks to Bloom aka xBloomstarx, for helping me with this chapter. It's been a while since I wrote a good, old-fashioned makeout scene, and God did I need help.