Disclaimer and notes: see first chapter
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Holiday
by Nightfall Rising
part three
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If Lina or even Sylphiel had asked him that, he would have shrugged or laughed it off, but this wasn't Lina, and it wasn't even Sylphiel. This was Val, who he was planning to marry for an unratable variety of excellent reasons, most of which would have turned him a fine rose blush if he'd ever attempted to put them into words. He mulled over them for a moment, and then the answer obligingly pushed itself through his embarrassed teeth. "It's just," he burst out, "it's just that I hate doing things deliberately. I detest the thought of sitting down with someone and being practical about you."
Slitted yellow eyes jerked to him, and widened, and went a softer amber. Shapely thumbs slipped up, and the hands they were attached to slid around his neck, and they were just standing there, cheek to stony cheek. Zel reached out, briefly detaching his arm from Val's back, and pressed the button for the hall floor.
It was a very nice elevator. The ride was smooth, the ceiling was upholstered, the gate was bronze, the walls were marble, the momentum was slowing, the doors were opening.
"Oh, my!"
Partly out of embarrassment, and partly out of sheer astonishment that he'd actually heard someone--a man, yet--say 'oh, my,' Zel disentangled himself and looked at the speaker.
The intruder was shorter than Val, maybe even a little shorter than him, with straight hair framing very finely drawn features like a violet theater curtain. From the way he held himself, a supple s-curve, Zel might almost have mistaken him for a woman, if his beautifully tailored suit hadn't fit so snugly about his broad chest and slim hips. He would have been the picture of elegance, if his face hadn't been bunch-cheeked and dimpled, with half-moon eyes and a tiny, crooked smile.
"Foul fiend," he accused melodramatically, "release my brother."
Zel was all ready to get offended when he remembered that he was talking to a mazoku, for whom the words 'foul fiend' probably translated into 'good puppy.' Good-naturedly, he let his hands fall.
"Why Valgaav," he scolded on, with a friendly, acknowledging nod at Zel's hands, "for shame, brother! Is this any way to spend a worship-day morning?"
Val, to Zel's enchantment, blushed.
The short and cheeky man had relaxed, his piece said and his point taken, into nosiness. "Anyone I know?"
"Gah," Val said, flustered. "My brother, Xellos Rubyeye, Zel. Xel, this is Zelgadis Greyweir."
"Hullo, Mr. Rubyeye," Xellos said, nodding affably.
"Delighted, Mr. Greyweir," Zel returned, amused. He wondered whether Val would bother to think up more differentiated nicknames before or even after the wedding. He doubted it. It was far more likely that he had just participated in the birthing of a running gag.
"I'm going to marry him," Val mentioned proudly.
A fine purple eyebrow lifted. "Oh," Xellos drawled, backing up and starting to close the doors in front of him with distinction worthy of the butler. "That makes it aaall right, then."
"In about a week, Xellos!"
The doors swung open again, rather faster, and a pearl-blue glove shot in, grabbed Zel's arm, and extracted his granite weight from the elevator without apparent difficulty. Tugged off balance, he went, and Val followed anxiously. "Come into the light and let me look at you, Redeye," the glove's owner demanded belatedly, and Zel was treated to a purple once- over, lightning-swift and just as intense, that made something stir uneasily in his stomach. Xellos finished with him and turned to Val, hurt. "But I've never seen him before!"
"Neither had I," Val agreed smugly, "until last week at Mipross."
His brother clasped gloved hands together (Zel, who still hadn't entirely gotten over 'Daddy,' was beginning to wonder what was up with this family and effeminacy), and creeled, "Telltelltelltelltell!"
Val closed the elevator doors and leaned against them, radiating self- satisfaction from each of his many exposed muscles. "Well," he said, enjoying himself. "I was going over to the dock, when I see this chimera walking back with a pair of ice-skates. He had a funny look on his face--"
"I can believe that," Xellos drawled, peering up behind Zel's concealing lavender fringe with a droll expression. Zel resisted the temptation to bite him in a friendly manner. After all, although Xellos seemed likely to take it the right way, Val wouldn't. Xellos seemed to read something of that instinct in his face, and his eyes crinkled up into quarter-moons before he retreated.
"Actually, it was his nose that caught my attention."
The organ in question was duly poked.
"I pointed out to him that it was frozen, and he asked if there was anything that I, personally, could do about it."
"Fresh," Xellos tsked disapprovingly.
Val was more than happy to agree. Eyes wide, he began, "No sh--"
"Well," Zel defended himself, "it sounded like a pickup line."
"Hell," Val chuckled, attaching himself to Zel's arm, "I ain't blind."
Xellos smirked, but then a thought pulled his supple posture straight. His voice lost its playful quality, becoming oddly formal. "Does Father know?"
"Nah, I'm telling him at Church. Look, I gotta go put a shirt and pants on."
"After the wedding," Zel lamented, "we're really going to have to discuss this regrettable habit of yours of standing around in the hallways stark naked."
"Good luck," Xellos said, shaking his sleek head solemnly. "We've been trying for years." Val bunched up his vest and hurled it at them, and walked into a room down the hall, bare to the waist. Zel attempted not to drool, with some success. Xellos regarded him with amusement for a moment, then slipped his hands into his pockets and lounged. "I hope you know what you're getting yourself in for."
"I didn't know I was marrying into a house with a bronze statue of a chicken," Zel returned.
"Oh, that's Tiiba. He's a distant relative. His ghost's in the laundry room, so it's very important to keep him happy."
"The place is haunted, too?"
"Of course it is! All sorts of horrible ghosts, with stuffed shirts and humahide bicycle shorts."
A corner of Zel's mouth lifted in spite of him, in appalled respect. "Skeletons in the closet?"
"What, didn't Valgaav tell you about Grandfather?" Zel shook a head, and Xellos crooked a confiding finger, inviting him closer. "Earned ninety-two merit badges out of a possible hundred and twenty with the Drake Scouts."
"No!"
"Yes! And he didn't tell you about me? I'm the grey sheep of the family."
"Maaaaa," Zel bleated politely, since it was always considered good manners to address someone in their native language.
Xellos frowned at him, disappointed. "That's a goat."
Val, coming back in a pine-shadow green suit over a shirt like bright flame, eyed them suspiciously. Zel turned to him in high displeasure. "I'm sorry, Val, the engagement's off. I won't marry into a family with a grey sheep."
"Valgaav," Xellos grinned, decisively sticking out a hand for Zel to shake, "I think I like this man."
"Hullo," Zel smiled back, shaking the offered glove before Val rolled his eyes tolerantly and hauled him away by the elbow. It came out a little sweeter than he had meant it to.
[end part three]
Important Notes: This story is not only based but riveted into the cement of an absolutely marvelous movie called 'Holiday,' starring Katherine Hepburn and Cary Grant, played respectively in this fic by Xel and Zel. If you haven't seen it (and most of you probably haven't; it's not even as well known as 'Philadelphia Story, gloom), please, please, make an effort to! This is a black and white movie! It's from the time when movies were about the acting and the scripts, and not about disguising the lack of either with splashy special effects! Go see it, go! You'll also better appreciate my artistry if you do (wink).
^w^ ^w^ ^w^ ^w^
Holiday
by Nightfall Rising
part three
^w^ ^w^ ^w^ ^w^
If Lina or even Sylphiel had asked him that, he would have shrugged or laughed it off, but this wasn't Lina, and it wasn't even Sylphiel. This was Val, who he was planning to marry for an unratable variety of excellent reasons, most of which would have turned him a fine rose blush if he'd ever attempted to put them into words. He mulled over them for a moment, and then the answer obligingly pushed itself through his embarrassed teeth. "It's just," he burst out, "it's just that I hate doing things deliberately. I detest the thought of sitting down with someone and being practical about you."
Slitted yellow eyes jerked to him, and widened, and went a softer amber. Shapely thumbs slipped up, and the hands they were attached to slid around his neck, and they were just standing there, cheek to stony cheek. Zel reached out, briefly detaching his arm from Val's back, and pressed the button for the hall floor.
It was a very nice elevator. The ride was smooth, the ceiling was upholstered, the gate was bronze, the walls were marble, the momentum was slowing, the doors were opening.
"Oh, my!"
Partly out of embarrassment, and partly out of sheer astonishment that he'd actually heard someone--a man, yet--say 'oh, my,' Zel disentangled himself and looked at the speaker.
The intruder was shorter than Val, maybe even a little shorter than him, with straight hair framing very finely drawn features like a violet theater curtain. From the way he held himself, a supple s-curve, Zel might almost have mistaken him for a woman, if his beautifully tailored suit hadn't fit so snugly about his broad chest and slim hips. He would have been the picture of elegance, if his face hadn't been bunch-cheeked and dimpled, with half-moon eyes and a tiny, crooked smile.
"Foul fiend," he accused melodramatically, "release my brother."
Zel was all ready to get offended when he remembered that he was talking to a mazoku, for whom the words 'foul fiend' probably translated into 'good puppy.' Good-naturedly, he let his hands fall.
"Why Valgaav," he scolded on, with a friendly, acknowledging nod at Zel's hands, "for shame, brother! Is this any way to spend a worship-day morning?"
Val, to Zel's enchantment, blushed.
The short and cheeky man had relaxed, his piece said and his point taken, into nosiness. "Anyone I know?"
"Gah," Val said, flustered. "My brother, Xellos Rubyeye, Zel. Xel, this is Zelgadis Greyweir."
"Hullo, Mr. Rubyeye," Xellos said, nodding affably.
"Delighted, Mr. Greyweir," Zel returned, amused. He wondered whether Val would bother to think up more differentiated nicknames before or even after the wedding. He doubted it. It was far more likely that he had just participated in the birthing of a running gag.
"I'm going to marry him," Val mentioned proudly.
A fine purple eyebrow lifted. "Oh," Xellos drawled, backing up and starting to close the doors in front of him with distinction worthy of the butler. "That makes it aaall right, then."
"In about a week, Xellos!"
The doors swung open again, rather faster, and a pearl-blue glove shot in, grabbed Zel's arm, and extracted his granite weight from the elevator without apparent difficulty. Tugged off balance, he went, and Val followed anxiously. "Come into the light and let me look at you, Redeye," the glove's owner demanded belatedly, and Zel was treated to a purple once- over, lightning-swift and just as intense, that made something stir uneasily in his stomach. Xellos finished with him and turned to Val, hurt. "But I've never seen him before!"
"Neither had I," Val agreed smugly, "until last week at Mipross."
His brother clasped gloved hands together (Zel, who still hadn't entirely gotten over 'Daddy,' was beginning to wonder what was up with this family and effeminacy), and creeled, "Telltelltelltelltell!"
Val closed the elevator doors and leaned against them, radiating self- satisfaction from each of his many exposed muscles. "Well," he said, enjoying himself. "I was going over to the dock, when I see this chimera walking back with a pair of ice-skates. He had a funny look on his face--"
"I can believe that," Xellos drawled, peering up behind Zel's concealing lavender fringe with a droll expression. Zel resisted the temptation to bite him in a friendly manner. After all, although Xellos seemed likely to take it the right way, Val wouldn't. Xellos seemed to read something of that instinct in his face, and his eyes crinkled up into quarter-moons before he retreated.
"Actually, it was his nose that caught my attention."
The organ in question was duly poked.
"I pointed out to him that it was frozen, and he asked if there was anything that I, personally, could do about it."
"Fresh," Xellos tsked disapprovingly.
Val was more than happy to agree. Eyes wide, he began, "No sh--"
"Well," Zel defended himself, "it sounded like a pickup line."
"Hell," Val chuckled, attaching himself to Zel's arm, "I ain't blind."
Xellos smirked, but then a thought pulled his supple posture straight. His voice lost its playful quality, becoming oddly formal. "Does Father know?"
"Nah, I'm telling him at Church. Look, I gotta go put a shirt and pants on."
"After the wedding," Zel lamented, "we're really going to have to discuss this regrettable habit of yours of standing around in the hallways stark naked."
"Good luck," Xellos said, shaking his sleek head solemnly. "We've been trying for years." Val bunched up his vest and hurled it at them, and walked into a room down the hall, bare to the waist. Zel attempted not to drool, with some success. Xellos regarded him with amusement for a moment, then slipped his hands into his pockets and lounged. "I hope you know what you're getting yourself in for."
"I didn't know I was marrying into a house with a bronze statue of a chicken," Zel returned.
"Oh, that's Tiiba. He's a distant relative. His ghost's in the laundry room, so it's very important to keep him happy."
"The place is haunted, too?"
"Of course it is! All sorts of horrible ghosts, with stuffed shirts and humahide bicycle shorts."
A corner of Zel's mouth lifted in spite of him, in appalled respect. "Skeletons in the closet?"
"What, didn't Valgaav tell you about Grandfather?" Zel shook a head, and Xellos crooked a confiding finger, inviting him closer. "Earned ninety-two merit badges out of a possible hundred and twenty with the Drake Scouts."
"No!"
"Yes! And he didn't tell you about me? I'm the grey sheep of the family."
"Maaaaa," Zel bleated politely, since it was always considered good manners to address someone in their native language.
Xellos frowned at him, disappointed. "That's a goat."
Val, coming back in a pine-shadow green suit over a shirt like bright flame, eyed them suspiciously. Zel turned to him in high displeasure. "I'm sorry, Val, the engagement's off. I won't marry into a family with a grey sheep."
"Valgaav," Xellos grinned, decisively sticking out a hand for Zel to shake, "I think I like this man."
"Hullo," Zel smiled back, shaking the offered glove before Val rolled his eyes tolerantly and hauled him away by the elbow. It came out a little sweeter than he had meant it to.
[end part three]
Important Notes: This story is not only based but riveted into the cement of an absolutely marvelous movie called 'Holiday,' starring Katherine Hepburn and Cary Grant, played respectively in this fic by Xel and Zel. If you haven't seen it (and most of you probably haven't; it's not even as well known as 'Philadelphia Story, gloom), please, please, make an effort to! This is a black and white movie! It's from the time when movies were about the acting and the scripts, and not about disguising the lack of either with splashy special effects! Go see it, go! You'll also better appreciate my artistry if you do (wink).