PART THREE (/3)
Author's Notes: Thanks for reading. Unnamed song references: That Man by Caro Emerald and I only wanna be with you by Volbeat
A figure appears in front of him, blocking his path. He spreads his arms wide. "Tonga soa, my friend, that is saying, welcome. To my party. In celebration of Julianuary, I am making it the goal to party hard every day, no barring the hold!"
Skipper's stomach hasn't swooped so violently since he and his boys attempted to fly. He can't believe it. Then, his body becomes completely numb. Music and blood pulse in his ears.
Twisting round on a carousel
This speeds' too much to stop
One second I'm thinkin' I'm feeling the lust
And then I feel a lot
"Your party?"
In his unmistakable sonorous lilt, Julien answers, "Yes, I am being King Julien, silly. Surely you are knowing of my amazing, enchanting, regal self."
"Why didn't you tell me before?"
"I was giving you the time to know me, so that you may not be so judgey."
He can't believe it. Of all the gut-wrenching karma the universe could have thrown at him, it's this. The bane of his existence and the gorgeous mystery he's been crushing on - they are one and the same. His veins burn with a feeling he can't identify. Is it shame or desire? Shame on his desire?
Ringtail - Julien is just as beautiful and well-groomed as always, though he has an accessory this time. On his head is the upside down bowl of leaves, like the decoration on the invite. It's clear to Skipper now that it's his crown. He must not have worn it around Skipper to conceal his importance.
Skipper pushes Julien aside. At the other penguins, he directs, "You're coming home, now."
Rico sticks his tongue out. He leans against a leg of the towering throne and crosses his flippers. It's a crystal clear sign of defiance. Skipper circles around Julien.
"Look me in the eye with your insubordination, soldier!"
Rico grunts, "Nuh-uh."
Kowalski's flipper on his chess piece pauses. "But I'm in the middle of extreme-moonwalk-starcrossed chess!"
Timo blinks at Skipper. "Haven't had this intense of a game in a while, heh."
"But Skipper," Private pleads, his eyes wide as he continues dancing in the crowd, "We're having so much fun!"
"That's an order, Private."
"With all due respect, Skipper," Kowalski cuts in, "You're our commander but we still have free will. We're not on duty right now - remember you've told us when the job is done, we're free to do as we please within reason and law?"
"You call this reasonable? How many laws do you think he's breaking?" Skipper grabs the drink from Private's flipper. "You're not old enough to drink."
"Hey. Julien's parties are clean! I told you before! That isn't alcohol."
An arm slings around Skipper. "Azafady mpiara-belona." Skipper blinks at this incomprehendable utterance. The esoteric statement serves to draw the attention of the surrounding merrymakers. All eyes are suddenly on the pair.
Julien continues without paying them any mind. "Excusing me, if I am to be cutting into this squabble of my neighbors -"
Skipper glares at his arm, wishing that his eyes could fire lasers. He tries to stay strong and ignore the sultry, citrus-scented breath across his beak.
"Stay out of our business, Ringtail," Skipper grumbles. He pointedly does not turn his head or twitch at the sensation of a lithe body slotting against his side. It is nothing but physical lust, and he won't let Julien's natural charisma throw him off his guard.
"Oh - you have given me a top secrety code name! I like it. Anyway - S'il vous plaît, mon ami - you must be sampling this drink."
Julien loops around him and shoves a cup into his flipper. Skipper allows it to happen, numbly transfixed on the man of his fantasies and his torment. Distantly, it registers that Julien seems to be a seamless multilingual - regardless that he mangles the English a bit. He remembers Julien - before Skipper knew his full identity - mentioning that he grew up with French.
Before he can stop himself, he asks, "How many languages are you fluent in?"
"I am being speaking of four: Malagasy, French, English, and Chameleon!"
Julien indicates the drink and offers an explanation.
"It's Maurice's special, a perfect, delectable blend that gives you the right kick of sugar and caffeine. Named Red Julien. Your young friend is being correct, my parties are totally safe for minors. I don't even allow the grinding and twerking on dance partners."
Skipper ducks away from Julien's arm. This man is far too tactile for his liking. "And who enforces this? You?"
"That would be me," says an unfamiliar pumpkin colored lemur appearing from thin air. She has an earpiece and a no nonsense countenance. Her posture is rigid.
"Is there a problem here your majesty?" Her emerald green eyes don't leave Skipper for a second. Unwavering in the face of Julien's bouncer, he doesn't break the gaze. He can respect a serious, soldierly gal like her. In a different life, he might have courted her.
"Not at all Clover. I'm sure once he tastes this delight and hangs around for a bit, he'll come around."
"Who says I'm hanging around?"
Julien's unusually clever expression makes his stomach twist with worry. "Are you not wanting to keep an eye on your penguin-y boys? To be making sure this party really is legal and safe? If you are only taking my word for it I am honored, Skipper."
Skipper huffs. He thrusts the full cup back into the hands of Julien. He drinks it in one swoop, lapping at the residue that stains his lips. Julien is angling to play him for a fool, and against his better judgement Skipper is going to allow him to get away with it.
"Fine."
He stomps away, to go sit on a lounge chair. Somehow, another cup ends up in his flippers from Ted, who is carrying around a platter full. He glares into the dark scarlet liquid for a moment. He shrugs and decides to see why it appears so popular.
His eyes widen as the sip hits his tongue. It's utterly fantastic and dazzles his taste buds. He guzzles down the rest. He should give his compliments to Maurice at some point, at least. The little lemur he met before, Mort, hops onto the lounge beside him. He stares at Skipper. Uncertain, Skipper gives him a friendly pat on the head.
"Hello, there, Sad Eyes. I'm guessing you and the other lemurs are stuck with Julien?"
Mort shakes his head.
"I love King Julien." He giggles. "Especially his perfect feet! His parties are so much fun, it's good that you've come. I bet you've made him really happy!"
Mort tries to balance an empty cup on his head. Skipper people watches the crowd, eyes occasionally honing in on the activities of the other penguins. They are genuinely enjoying themselves. Crimson flirts with Kowalski, making him flustered. Skipper realizes that she and Clover must be twins, or their physical similarities would be twilight zone worthy.
Private has many admirers of his undeniable cuteness. Rico sticks with two particular individuals - Pancho and his shifty friend Andy. Rico is probably in shadysville heaven, as they are probably enamored with Rico's love of destruction and mayhem.
A feeling of guilt creeps up on him. That he would deny his boys a chance to socialize outside of their little group seems cruel and selfish in retrospect. Unlike them, he isn't so easy to trust. He has never been one to casually let others into his personal life or his heart.
He tears his attention from them. He trusts them, he does. He needs to let them have fun for once. No longer distracted, he of course gravitates back to Julien. He's the life of the party, his subjects cheering him on, dancing into his orbit, and attempting to mimic his jig. Many compete for his attention.
He is in his own world, shaking his rump at the center of it all. Mort pokes his beak, snapping him out of his enthralled state. His beak shuts, and he's embarrassed that he had been practically ogling Julien. He's never been so obvious. He knows by the smirks passed his way that his fascination has been noted by several people.
He should hate Julien, but he just can't. He wants to know him better, know why all these people, from different walks of life, love him. Their devotion to this potentially self-proclaimed king is clearly beyond simple worship for his parties, or for his carefree disposition, his benevolent attitude.
Mort releases a sudden squeal, startling Skipper out of his musings. He darts across the habitat and clings to Julien's feet. Julien yelps and attempts to shake him off.
"Mort you naughty! Not the feet - I am always telling you to not be touching the royal feet - Mandehana!"
Maurice intervenes before Julien's distress can get out of control. He plucks Mort from Julien's extremities. He heaves a sigh a relief. As though nothing happened, he goes back to swaying and bouncing to the rhythm.
Suddenly, he hops on a table and starts jerking in new movements as another song comes on. He sings along with it. "I like to move it move it! I like to -"
Everyone collectively shouts, "Move it!"
He bobs through the crowd, continuing to match the lyrics perfectly. "Physically fit, physically, physically, physically fit."
Skipper leans forward. He can't deny he's entranced by Julien's deft gyrations and flawless in-key singing. Partygoers lift him off the floor and carry him, as he points at people who are distracted or motionless. Upon being singled out, they immediately bust a move. Skipper can't figure out whether or not it's staged.
"We like to move it move it!"
"He like to move it move it!"
"She like to move it move it!"
Soon, there is not a body in the room that's a statue. Everyone dances - perhaps boogies would be more apt, Skipper thinks - to the buoyant music, with Julien's vivacious energy infecting them.
"You like to -"
"MOVE IT!"
He can't wrap his mind around what's happening to him. Julien is in front of him in a flash, offering his hand. Before he can second guess himself, Skipper allows himself to be pulled.
Skipper joins the fray and swivels his hips to the rhythm. He sips from the Red Julien still in his flipper, eyes roving curiously over the party, assessing each well groomed individual in a split second. He finishes his cup and grabs another.
Vigor surges through him, his muscles loosening. Other partygoers roam toward him as his stern expression slackens. However, he can't tear his eyes away from the party King, propelling the atmosphere into a full-blown vibrant rave. His fluffy tail bounces as he dances, occasionally curling around to frame his face. He catches Skipper's eye and grins. Skipper slips Julien's slim, manicured hand into his flipper and twirls him across the dancefloor. Julien laughs in delight.
Oh can't you see
Ever since we met you've had a hold on me
It happens to be true
I only want to be with you
Julien walks his fingers along Skipper's wing. He moves in, arms slinking around Skipper's shoulders and neck. Skipper can see that Julien's irises have been reduced to a corona around his pupils. His hand is pressed firm to Julien's lower back, their chests meeting - causing their differences in build, one slender and one round - to stand out. There's barely an inch left between them. Julien combs his fingers through Skipper's feathers, his smile adding a fond sheen to his gaze. They're close enough the slightest tilt of the head would bring lips to beak.
"Baby, I dig you," Julien murmurs.
Skipper kisses him. Julien makes a surprised and pleased sound. He goes nearly limp in Skipper's embrace. His tongue pokes out to tease at Skipper's beak. He parts his beak to allow him entrance, and their tongues slide in a hot, wet greeting. They make out, fierce and focused, oblivious to their amorous collision being in full view of Julien's guests and Skipper's commando team.
He can't bring himself to mind. He's spellbound by Julien, this utter conundrum, possessing him in a total eclipse of his entity. Although this begins on the basis of shallow attraction, Julien is magnetic. Skipper feels in their proximity the electric particles that portend the potential for something greater.
END OF PART THREE