I decided the world needed some drunk Gene. So here's some drunk Gene. Enjoy
Spoilers (duh): if this is in hindsight, does it really spoil anything?
Warnings: excessive Gene-ness again, also underage alcohol consumption and mentions of casual sex
Quick Note: I'd put the twins around 15, which puts Evie at 19. Also, italics in quotes will signal that they're speaking Japanese, but I think I was pretty clear
Those dance lessons really paid off, Gene thought, smirking into his commandeered champagne flute while the bubble tickled his lip. There was silence on the other end of the Line, only a buzzing irritation to allude that he'd even been heard at all.
"Your brother's quite the dancer." Beside him, a pretty little bird decked out in rose and glittering crystals draped sycophantically across his arm. He couldn't remember her name, either because of the third glass of fine Spanish sparkling wine he wasn't supposed to be drinking or some weird apathetic mood, he couldn't decide. In any case he was quite inclined to ignore her at the moment. She wanted him to dance, if the way she tugged at his arm and hummed along to the string quintet was any indication, but he was too busy enjoying this rare sight, like Darwin with a new species of finch.
Noll was surprisingly graceful. Who would've thunk?
"Are you any good?" she tried again, and he stifled the not when I'm half-plastered that threatened to escape on a hiccup. On the dance floor, Noll twirled one of the patron's daughters with an adept precision that made her periwinkle skirt float about her ankles. Sneaky bastard, he kept in his own head. The young girl was having quite the little fit, imagining herself to be the belle of the ball on her handsome prince's arm. If only she knew the truth…
"Luella must be proud," someone commented, Japanese familiar and yet unexpected until he glanced up to see the speaker. He wasn't very surprised at all to find Evie by his side, sheathed in a long champagne-colored dress. She had ushered his increasingly exasperated date into finding a more attentive partner and plucked the slender stemware from his fingers, taking a shallow sip of glittering golden-pink liquid. Her smirk was clearly outlined in a deep shade of maroon that made her hair seem very red. "As long as she doesn't pick up his ulterior motive."
"He's a genius," he affirmed, tracking Noll's shiny loafers as they cut across the dance floor in rapid turns. "I could almost hate him for it."
Evie hummed in agreement, downing the rest of his drink carelessly and he rolled his eyes. Were Lin present she'd have resorted to stealing his glass long ago. "Let's count the lovesick, shall we?"
Gene nodded eagerly and leaned against the buffet table to relish in a little slip of propriety. Across the opulent hall of this half-ancient hotel, his twin bowed deeply, ever the gentleman, to his partner as the waltz ended with a little flourish of arpeggios. Her blush was vibrant even from here, but Noll didn't linger for very long. Even as the quintet tuned for another piece, he was off to claim another lady, some willowy woman clad in a backless black dress that wasn't quite right for her. Mrs. Lancaster, he thought, one of their most avid supporters. It was a wonder why, what with the way she fawned over their resident prodigy with an unbecoming blatancy.
"Two," he began, wrinkling his nose as the fifty-something year-old woman let her hands drift uncomfortably low. In the back of his mind he felt a prick of disgust. He laughed ruthlessly, making sure to let some of his amusement slip. Fanning the flames, so to speak.
Noll deigned to shoot a fiery look at him as he sashayed past, cougar in arm, one that clearly read I don't see you working. Because that's all this was to Noll; work. Make the patrons happy, show his brilliance, his aptitude, so SPR could run another day past Martin's pocket. But these were social events, not symposiums to impress the cold, unyielding realm of science, but something like charity events for the rich to falsely-philanthropically disperse their money. And as Gene so gently and daily reminded him, the intricacies of socialization were not his strong point. Even so, Noll would use what gifts he did possess to his advantage. He would dance with them long into the night, if only because then he would never have to talk to them.
"I've got six so far. I think they've formed a pity club," Evie chortled, gesturing none too subtly with her head to the leftmost corner. Indeed, clustered together like a gaggle of rejected Barbie dolls were a number of his abandoned dance partners. They were whispering to each other, giggling and pointing and God help me glancing his way. Any other night, he'd be perfectly content to woo them away from his stoic brother. But there was an unspoken agreement between the brothers. Gene was the charming one in the daylight hours (and practically everywhere else), and Noll could have these moments to redeem his less than cheerful personality in the ever-reproachful eyes of their mother. Plus, he was a little more than halfway shitfaced, now that the hastily imbibed alcohol had had time to ruminate in his bloodstream. He didn't think his drunken charm would go over well.
"I could almost feel sorry for them. They think they have a chance," he mused, aware that his words were just barely blending together and pretty much indifferent to the fact. Evie rolled her eyes.
"Oh baby Nature Boy," she replied in English, more to herself than him, but it threw him off just enough for her to catch his neck under her arm and bow to the force of her unnatural strength. She viciously and remorselessly trashed his pristinely combed hair with her fist. "You little drunkard! Uncle Martin will have your head tomorrow."
"Yea, probably," he mused, again indifferent. The sparkling wine was deliciously bubbly in his toes and his vision was swimming a bit, to make the gold and red of the ballroom dance as primly as his brother.
"Try not to upchuck on the marble," she warned almost playfully, with a hint of seriousness he didn't really appreciate. He was perfectly…perfectly not nauseous, thank you. He opened his mouth to say as much, but Evie was already gone, slinking through the inelegant dancers like a tigress draped in silk. She reached Noll, tapped his shoulder, and he could imagine her cheeky line—can I cut in?—because their ridiculous cousin liked to poke at social norms when she could. Noll relinquished Mrs. Lancaster with relish well hidden to anyone but him, and guided Evie onto the dance floor. His face was no longer the passive, plastered smile, but a condescending smirk as he guided her into the first steps.
Idiot. We have a demonstration tomorrow for the board, echoed in his head and he jumped a little in surprise, the way it knocked into his mind with careless force. He always forgot how weird psychic shit got under the influence.
Why do we even need a demonstration? I think you've just danced your way into every daughters' wallet. Probably into their beds too, if you smiled sweeter.
A scoff at the back of his mind. Don't be vulgar.
Don't be wasteful. About twenty feet away, Noll nearly laughed, stuttering in his flawless steps as he twirled Evie under his arm. And stop showing off. Really, Evie's always going to beat you at this.
That wouldn't stop him from trying. He didn't answer, rather he seemed to gather himself all the more completely, graceful to a degree Gene wasn't expecting and in his state it made him a little dizzy. Their feet were a blur, sliding across the room, effortless as if they were floating. Noll was really going all out, and Evie was giving as good as she got, and in heels no less. There was something more natural about her movements, like the slinking ease of a prowling cat. Noll's were notably more learned, though still impressive. Even so, Evie was the master.
Come over this way, he urged, and to his surprise Noll, probably for curiosity (or maybe revenge in mind) guided her in his direction. Probably not his best idea, but then even Noll had no way of predicting his plan. It was a rather…impulsive one, even for him.
"May I have this dance?" he sort of slurred out, not as smoothly as he was hoping but it didn't particularly matter. The desired effect was there anyway. And Evie, bless her, understood.
She stepped back. "Certainly, good sir." A little struggle, a flash of gold-ish silk and deep black that his alcohol-muddled eyes couldn't quite follow and they were off, scooting across the dance floor with more accuracy than he really could have expected from himself in this state.
"You're ridiculous," was all the spite he'd get. Noll was probably too surprised to muster much else. It was a miracle he was still dancing, just as skillfully as before despite his…limited partner.
"Let me lead. I'm taller."
"We're identical, idiot."
Gene laughed. "Whoa, I bet this looks super trippy to everyone else. If we spin fast enough, we'll really confuse them."
"I'm sure they're quite well enough perplexed." And yet he was going right along with it. Maybe because out of the corner of his eye he could see their mother, nearly surrounded by a pack of snickering woman. She was laughing behind her hand, shaking her head with mock indignation while Martin outright guffawed, so loudly it cut through the orchestra like a sour note. He was sure he'd see a hundred other faces like theirs in the ballroom but theirs were the only two that mattered. He tossed them a cheeky wink.
Mama's boy, he managed to slide through the thick of alcohol to his brother. It was easier, with his hand in his like when they were lonely kids with only each other to rely on (and that was a sad thought if ever he'd had one. Alcohol tended to make him a little nostalgic). Noll didn't comment, but he did spin them a bit too fast for his stomach's liking, smirking mercilessly when he stumbled on the next step. All proof that Gene was completely right. Mama's boy indeed.
"You have to admit, I'm your most interesting partner of the night," he offered as a white flag, something more in Noll's comfort zone. Reestablishing his superiority, always a good play.
He snorted inelegantly. "If by interesting, you mean 'inebriated,' then I'd agree."
"I'm not drunk," Gene hiccupped, which admittedly did not support his denial very much. "You're just too sober."
"What does that even mean?"
He really couldn't say. But that wasn't for Noll to know. "Use your imagination, Otouto."
"Then I imagine you're drunk, Aniki."
"Just shut up and dance," he muttered, tightening his grip on Noll's hand and pushing at him stubbornly. "And let me lead. I'm older."
Noll pushed back, effortlessly commanding their little show of half-artistic boredom. "I'm smarter."
Can't really argue with that one.
"Idiot scientist."
He'd still try.
I'm sorry for this, really. I can't even say what prompted it, other than a need for Gene and Naru being stupid brothers.
As always, I hope you enjoyed this adventure in the inebriated mind of Eugene and please let me know if I made an egregious mistake (like with the Aniki/Otouto, still getting used to honorifics). Thank you!
