Thumb Rings and Ballet Slippers

It was cold and there were no clouds so the stars that hung in the sky blinked down at him in an infuriatingly obnoxious manner, it was quiet for a London street except for a stray car that would drive past and splatter the left over water that had remained on the ground from the rain storm that took place earlier in the day. His head hurt, the music that his house mate had been playing reverberated in the crevices of his skull and made it seem as though there was a little speaker blaring that same God awful music inside his head. He shivered slightly and held himself, for if he didn't he was sure that he'd fall apart on the damp pavement. He remembered his companion's face, that small smirk as he wrapped his arm around some woman that he'd never seen before.

Quaxo rolled his eyes, it was silly to get upset, it was silly of him to get attached to the biggest slut he knew. He couldn't stay there though, it was as if everyone worked as one entity that was set on irritating him, so he left with his wallet and his phone and started out for his little sister's place, as he always did when it all got a little too much for him.

His fingers worked at his phone as he rang his doll of a sister up, knowing that she'd welcome him into her flat regardless of whether or not he gave any notice but he figured that it'd be the polite thing to do. Even the rings of the phone seemed to annoy him.

"Hello brother dearest, what's going on?" she greeted brightly and he could hear some chuckles in the background.

"My inconsiderate house mate is making a lot of noise and I'm heading over yours right now, that's what's going on," Quaxo responded, his voice far from as cheery as hers. He could almost feel her smile drop on the other side of the phone as she shushed whoever was chuckling, he supposed it was probably Jemima, and adjusted her tone of voice.

"Oh dear," she said," But I'm not currently at mine right now, I thought I told you, I'm at Plato's and I'm going to be back late."

"Oh," he said, failing to hide his disappointment.

"But I guess you could go over anyway," Victoria said, her voice regaining its brightness, "I'll be home later and I doubt my little housewife would mind, she'd probably be thankful for the company."

"You're sure? I don't want to impose myself on her," he mumbled, hoping that she'd talk him out of doubts.

"Don't be silly, Quaxo! I'll see you later okay?" The chuckles started to get louder and she heard her fumbling, joining in with the laughter slightly too and he felt himself pale as he considered what Plato and his little sister could be chuckling about. He shook his head slightly to dispel the thought,

"Okay. Well I'll see you, don't be too late or I'll kick your boyfriend's ass with magic."

"Understood, boss! See you later!"

He hung up and made a turn into a little convenience store to pick up food, figuring that he couldn't just show up in front of Jemima empty handed after crashing her evening in.

Jemima, not knowing that her friend's brother would be making an appearance, had been practising a piece she had to perform in front of her class the following week. She stood in front of the mirror with the backing track playing softly from the speakers in her laptop as she concentrated on her facial expression and the positioning of her mouth.

After becoming unemployed, her opera was the only thing that made her feel vaguely useful as her comments got progressively better, though she still had a vague feeling that her tutor disliked her. She shot a look over at the corset that awaited her and tried to squander any anxiety that started to crawl up from her gut and clog up her throat, of course she couldn't just stand there and sing, of course it was required that sang in the bloody boned corset that she still hadn't tried on in fear of it breaking a few ribs.

The music died slowly and she took a deep breath and stared at herself in the mirror for a few seconds, her mind working too fast for her to keep up with. She'd just gotten off of the phone with her eldest sister and while the conversation would normally make her feel at peace it only served for her to feel stress dance on her shoulders. Bombalurina reminded her to focus on her studies, that she'd be home in a few months and that they'd have to go see Auntie Jenny and Uncle Skimble together, to check in with Demeter when she had the time. Throughout the whole conversation, she wondered if Bombalurina knew about Demeter's new boyfriend, if she could tell the guilt Jemima felt for being just a little bit infatuated with a man that was so incredibly in love with their sister, if she sensed Jemima's discomfort.

"Take care of yourself, okay sweetie?" Bombalurina had said and Jemima could hear the concern in her voice, "I love you."

"I will. I love you too," Jemima had sighed as her sister hung up and held her head in her hands, she'd almost contemplated ringing her back up and telling her everything. Instead, she took a deep breath and got to work because it was pointless dithering away the day, wondering about things that hadn't happened or panicking about the things that had happened and she could do nothing more about.

So she sang because that was all she knew how to do. It was all she was good at and now, as she stood in front of the mirror and watched her face, she decided that she'd sing until her voice was weary and her diaphragm ached. She made her way back over to the laptop and repeated the backing track before taking her place in front of the mirror again. The living room was her stage, her pyjamas were her dress and the lamp in the corner was her spotlight as she made her way through the aria and sang each syllable with affection and care.

"Qui mi sento lontana, nella notte scura, che mi circonda, mi soffoca... Ah! Quaxo!"

Her friend's face appeared at the window and her yell of shock mingled beautifully with that verse's last high note. She jumped and turned the backing track off before running toward the door. He stood there in the little light emanating from the flat, brandishing a small smile and plastic bag full of snack food he'd picked up in a hurry.

"Sorry to disturb you, I thought Victoria would have warned you I'd be coming over," he said with a little scratch of his head, "Is now a bad time?"

"No! Not at all," she said breathlessly, moving aside so he could step in, "I was just practising, I have a recital type thing for school."

"Sounded good," he said with a grin which only widened as she squirmed whilst closing the door,

"You heard?"

"Not that much, honestly."

He made his way into the main room and smiled to himself at how different the environment was to the type Victoria and himself had grown up around. It was small though they were lucky enough to get a place that wasn't in an awful flat building so he supposed they had to count their blessings there. When Victoria was younger, she had spoken fondly of white furry rugs and leather sofas, of crystal chandeliers and big televisions, of an exact replica of their family home. But this place wasn't at all like their family home; it was small and robust with laminated flooring that could do with a hoover, with armchairs (one white with lace roses, the other red with embroidered yellow flowers), a bookshelf crammed to the brim of stories about short-lived and passionate love affairs, a beaten up sofa decorated with paisley throws and Quaxo's old television that stood discreetly but proudly in the corner of the room.

"Cup of tea? You look cold."

He looked up at Jemima and chuckled as she peered at him with concern. She was a nurturer, something he supposed she'd picked up from Jenny, but it was funny to see such maternal instinct coming from such a small girl that provoked people to want to protect her. It made him feel comfortable knowing that Victoria came home to this doting housewife every day, that she'd be welcomed by a cup of tea and a smile.

"That'd be great, thanks." Jemima smiled gently and walked to the kitchen,

"Make yourself at home, Mr. Mistoffelees."

He rolled his eyes at the nickname before sitting down gently on the couch, knowing better than to sit on one of the armchairs that belonged exclusively to the girls. He placed the plastic bag at his feet before leaning back and letting out a sigh as he melted into the mess of throws and well-used foam of the sofa before jumping as something satin and lacy fell down from the back of the sofa and onto his shoulder. He picked the offending object up between his forefinger and thumb before examining it. There, in his hands, was a black steel boned corset complete with ribbon and lace stitching. He began to laugh, slightly dumbfounded at why something that seemed so intimate would just be lying around the flat.

"What?" Jemima came out with two cups of tea in her hands before stopping in horror at the picture of her best friend's older brother holding her corset between his fingers and staring at her with a bemused smile and a raised brow.

"Oh God, I can explain," she said, cringing slightly as she tried to convince her feet to move.

"Oh please do," he replied with a smug grin, obviously revelling in her discomfort.

"It's an opera thing, I swear!" she made her way over and placed Quaxo's cup on the little coffee table that she'd inherited from her older sister's first house.

"An opera thing? But how would you be able to breathe in this torture device?" He said, pulling the corset flat and peering at the metal skeleton hiding beneath dark satin. Jemima shrugged before nestling into her armchair and sipping from her tea, hoping that her face wasn't as red as it felt. Quaxo chuckled before draping it on the arm of the sofa and reaching for his tea.

"What brings you here, anyway?" Jemima said, peering at him from over the edge of her mug.

"Tugger's party getting a little bit too loud," he mumbled and she nodded understandingly before running a hand through her hair. He contemplated how perfectly opposite she was from his sister yet how they complimented each other so harmoniously. If Victoria was here, she'd ask for details and pry until finally the whole story would fall involuntarily from his lips but Jemima just accepted the information given to her graciously but in a manner that made Quaxo want to tell her everything.

"Well," he said despite himself, making her look up from her tea cup and smile gently again, "There was someone there that I'd been... Previously involved with and they were getting involved with someone else and it was just a little bit too much. So I invaded your peaceful night instead of loitering like a sad spinster."

Her eyebrows raised an inch up her forehead and she nodded, "And this person.. You still like them?"

Quaxo shrugged and took a sip of tea, feeling his face burn slightly from embarrassment. She felt her chest tighten slightly and put her cup on the table before leaning forward so that Quaxo knew she was being attentive.

"Listen to me, Mr Mistoffelees. They'll come around because you're great, so don't worry too much about it."

"This person happens to be the biggest slut I've ever met," Quaxo said with a forced smile and it slowly dawned on Jemima.

"Oh those brothers", she thought with sudden sympathy for Quaxo, "There they go again, not realising how their perfection affects people."

"You've probably guessed," he said plainly, "But please don't tell Victoria. She'd only worry."

"Tugger's not the brightest," Jemima said softly, a sympathetic smile on her face, "He probably doesn't even know you like him."

"Yeah, well," was all he could muster before shrugging and reaching for the plastic bag and brandishing a bottle of pretty cheap wine and a large bar of chocolate, "I thought I'd buy into the bohemian lifestyle that you and my darling sister have flourished in such a lovely way with. So while your tea is superb, as usual, should we open this crap that masquerades as Cava and drink to my sorry state of a love life?"

Jemima chuckled before rising slowly and making her way to the kitchen, "Bring it in, we'll make a struggling artist out of you."

"And if this bottle doesn't work, I've bought a second as well."

It took them about an hour to finish off the first bottle, another to get halfway through the second and for Victoria to arrive home alongside her boyfriend who'd taken the bus home with her out of gentlemanly good intentions but then had missed his last bus so had to stay the night lest he walk for an hour to the other side of town. The blonde was greeted to her eldest brother being laced into a corset by her room mate, a half-eaten bar of chocolate and one and a half empty bottles of wine.

"Oh Jesus Christ," she said, smacking her hand to her forehead and trying to act embarrassed around Plato although she couldn't help but find it amusing. The hilarity of the situation only heightened when Quaxo twisted away from Jemima and fell over his own feet whilst yelling:

"I can explain!"

Jemima started to giggle and Victoria noticed that she was in no way drunk so her room mate really had no excuse. The elfin girl noticed Plato and began to groan behind her giggles,

"You're going to get the wrong impression of me," she joked nervously, "I swear this isn't the norm."

Plato was grinning too, "The only impression I have of you is that you know how to have a good time, honestly. Victoria, is this the brother I have to worry about kicking my ass with magic?"

Quaxo stood up, brushing himself off before standing straight and it became evident that he obviously had the most to drink out of the two. Victoria peered at him suspiciously, she'd never seen her brother, who was usually a prime example of middle-class English manners, seem so outlandish. Even so, he reached his hand out properly to Plato and nodded with a grin as they shook hands.

"I am said brother and I could still kick your ass with magic in this corset."

"Isn't that Jemima's opera corset? Oh my, Quaxo. What are you up to?" she said with a little smile. Her brother blinked at her and she could see mirth dancing in his blue eyes that mirrored her own, his pale cheeks were flushed slightly either from embarrassment or from being slightly tipsy and his hair was tousled.

"I'm being a struggling bohemian like you and your wonderful room mate," he nodded at Jemima who had made herself comfortable in her armchair, "She's a lot of fun, isn't she?"

When it had gotten late and Jemima had successfully gotten her corset back and made everyone a cup of tea, the question of sleeping arrangements arose. Victoria had looked worriedly at Plato as she suggested he stay in her room with her, he blinked down and rolled his eyes at her teasingly before kissing her cheek.

"Victoria, please. Your brother is here," he joked as Quaxo pulled his shirt back over his head while Jemima folded the corset.

"Well where do you suppose you sleep?" she answered, raising a brow up at him.

He looked out of the window, "I suppose I could just walk back.. It's not that long a walk."

Victoria blinked and aimed a little slap at his chest, "Don't be stupid, it's freezing and late and your house is an hour away. We've already been through this."

Plato turned and shrugged, "You and I both know you're not going to be comfortable with me staying in your room with you."

Victoria opened her mouth to interject and he rolled his eyes again, "We've only been together for a few weeks and you're a prude. Don't look at me like that, I'm a prude too. I can easily walk back to mine."

"Vicky, you are a prude. Plato, don't be silly and listen to your girlfriend," Jemima said, collecting the empty cups of tea and walking to the kitchen, "I suggest that Quaxo stays with Vicky, you can top and tail or something since he's your drunken mess of a brother. Then Plato you can take the couch, or my room and I'll take the couch."

It took about twenty minutes for Quaxo to curl up asleep on Victoria's bed with a small smile on his face, Victoria was laying out blankets on the sofa for Plato who stood over with his shirt off, ready for sleep, and Jemima was doing the dishes in the kitchen and boiling the kettle for another cup of tea to take to bed with her. When Victoria had covered the sofa accordingly, she blinked up at Plato with a little smile which broke into a wider grin as he kissed her forehead gently.

"I would have let you sleep in my room," she whispered, "Wake me up if you get uncomfortable on this heap of junk, okay?"

"I'll be fine," Plato said gently, "You're tired, go to bed."

Victoria blinked up at him with sleepy eyes, she knew they were probably getting bloodshot and mascara was probably littering her cheek from her rubbing them every now and then but he still stared at her as though she was pretty. She smiled again, that sweet dimpled smile of hers before kissing him gently.

"Good night."

"Good night."

She turned on her heel and walked into her room, leaving Plato to make himself comfortable on the couch. Just as he buried himself into the mountains of blankets his sweet girlfriend had arranged on her bed, the landline began to blare out annoyingly and he groaned as he sat up and began to look for it.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Jemima whispered as she dashed for the phone, answering it with an apologetic smile before picking up her tea.

"One sec," she said into the receiver, confused over who could be ringing at stupid o'clock in the very early morning, "You're all good?"

He smiled at her and nodded as she grinned and began to walk to her room backwards as she spoke to him, "Call if you need anything, help yourself to the TV and kitchen."

She wrestled with the door handle for a moment before letting herself into the cosy state that was her room and answered the person on the other side of the phone again.

"Sorry about that, who's this?"

"Jemima? Jemima, is that you?" She recognised the voice at once and rolled her eyes with a little grin, she placed her mug on her bedside table and started to settle into the bed, thankful that she was already in her pyjamas.

"Hello Tugger, how can I help you?"

"Is Quaxo there?" his words were slurred and she could hear the faint hum of music playing in the background so she figured that his party was still going.

"He is but he's sleeping and I don't really want to wake him up," she said gently.

"I think he's angry at me," his voice was child-like and Jemima felt sorry for him as she imagined his lost expression, "I hate it when he's angry at me, he can be a bastard."

"Maybe call back in the morning, Tugger, I'm sure he'll be less angry then," she said gently and Tugger started to chuckle but it was slow and almost delayed, as though he wasn't quite sure he was laughing.

"Hell, maybe, stranger things have happened," his tone changed to a more sombre drawl, "Hey, kid. I'm sorry to hear about your sister and my brother, they'll knock it off soon though, don't you worry."

Jemima felt her throat tighten, "Yeah, well. I better-"

"Fuck. I mean, Macavity's an ass to Demeter and I was a crappy boyfriend to Bomba too. Our family should probably stop trying to get together, right? I mean, it seems like Munkustrap and you are the only sensible ones in this whole situation."

Jemima forced a giggle, "Well I better go, Tugger. I'll tell Quaxo you called."

"Right, right. Night kid!"

"Try and get some sleep," came her tender reply as she hung up the phone and sunk under the blankets, wanting very much for the floor to swallow her and her bed whole.

She thought about Munkustrap and how they'd been the exact opposite of sensible. She thought of Munkustrap and his hands, how she'd always loved those hands. How they felt in her hair, on her face, on her hips. She thought of Munkustrap and how he hadn't called since. She thought of Munkustrap and how he loved her sister and felt herself sink further into her blankets.

((A/N: This is laaaaaate. I've been being a diligent student and a crappy writer but I hope to get into the swing of things again soon!))