Ooh na na, what's my name
Ooh na na, what's my name
Ooh na na, what's my name
Whats my name, whats my name….
"What's My Name?" -Rihanna
Cassian knows to quit when he's beat, and he has definitely been beaten. So when she leaves, walks away without another word, he doesn't follow. He can barely breathe as it is and so as soon as she's out of sight, he heads back to his table. He's not fleeing, he tells himself. He's just making a calculated retreat, and it's not like he's ever going to see her again. So why should it even matter.
He should have waited for his drinks though before returning to the table, because when he does get back sans drinks there's a chorus of feminine groans from the table. A pair of hazel eyes, much like his own, takes in Cassian's pained expression and the delicate shift in his gait and Cassian knows that his brother understands what he doesn't want to explain. He sits down, not the usually flinging of his body into the booth, but a far more tender slump.
"Where are our drinks?" asks a lilting voice.
Cassian looks up from where he's pressed his head into his hands. Mor. Of course it's Mor that asks, and from the sly expression on her face and the dark look Azriel is shooting her, she knows. He just doesn't know if he can explain it, the bickering and what he thought was obvious sexual tension that led up to him getting kneed in the groin. He's not all quite sure what the hell just happened anyway, just that if his friends find out, he will never live it down.
But he's saved by the appearance of the familiar face of one of servers delivering their drinks. Drinks will distract them, he hopes. But that hope is short lived. Nuala— or maybe it's her twin sister Cerridwen, Cassian can never tell even after all these years of visiting The Night Court, only because the two of them take great pleasure out of dressing alike to mess with drunken patrons— sets the tray down onto the table and offers Cassian a small sad smile.
"Sorry about earlier," she says, patting Cassian on the shoulder and his eyes grow wide. He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, but she doesn't catch it. "With that girl, at the bar…"
Cassian groans and drops his head into his awaiting palms again. Nuala sensing her mistake, from Cassian's reaction and the feral gleam in Mor and her other companion's eyes, a companion that even Cassian is hesitant to cross, makes a quick exit.
There's a tap at his shoulder and Mor sings his name. Literally sings it, in what is possibly the most annoying cadence Cassian has ever heard. He shakes his head with a groan, refusing to make eye contact, but a second voice joins in. He looks up, locking eyes with Mor, who smiles a saccharinely sweet smile, and then with Amren and from the wicked glint in her silver eyes, Cassian knows he's screwed.
So he tells them, in as few details as he can managed about the golden haired beauty with fire in her eyes that knocked him for a loop. When he finishes, Cassian can barely see the top of Amren's head from where she leans over in the giant booth, close to falling on the floor and clutching her sides as she laughs at him. Mor is sprawled across her boyfriend's lap, face buried in Az's neck to muffle the sounds of her laughter and Az, to his credit, is at least trying not to laugh. Cassian's face is probably bright red from the burn he can feel across his cheeks and he quickly changes the subject, asking Az if he's seen the rest of their friends.
"You know how Rhys is," Az responds, a chuckle on his lips. A chuckle that Cassian knows is more at him than their wayward companion and Cassian sends him a glare. "He's probably getting…"
"Az, I wanna go dance," Mor says abruptly, patting his shoulder.
The song's changed and the boys know this is one of her favorites and when Mor wants to dance, nothing will stop her. Azriel sends him a look that's half apologetic and half a plea for help, as the two stand, and Mor drags him off to the dance floor. Amren smirks, having recovered from her fit and settled into her seat. She watches the club with a feline grace and sips at her blood orange cosmo.
Ten minutes later, Cassian is still nursing his drink like it's his wounded pride when Mor returns from the dance floor. She seems almost too eager as she slips into the booth next to Az, who snuck back to the booth three songs ago, while Mor was distracted by the music. When Cassian shoots her a look, she smiles, a big cheshire like grin plastered on her face.
"You," she says, smile growing ever wider as she inclines her head back towards the bar, "are so fucked."
She turns her attention behind her. It's then that he notices the couple trailing after her, Rhys, and his girlfriend, both dressed in black like death incarnate, like they knew today would be the day he died. He nods in recognition. That's when the two separate and his stomach jumps into his throat.
How he missed the similarities between the golden haired beauty at the bar, and his brother's girlfriend is beyond him. But now seeing the two standing side by side, the expression on the girl's face as incredulous as Cassian feels, there's no denying the family resemblance.
And when Feyre introduces the women in between her and Rhys as her sisters, Nesta and Elain, Cassian knows that Mor is right.
He is so unbelievably fucked.