A.N.: This is what two months of crippling writers block gets you. And by you, I mean you the reader.

Can you feel the love tonight?

The peace the evening brings

The world, for once, in perfect harmony

With all its living things

"Can You Feel The Love Tonight?" from The Lion King

Meanwhile…

Exhausted from dancing and in need of a brief respite, Elain makes her way back to the table.

An empty table.

Nuala and Cerridwen have done their job too well, clearing the table of everything including Cassian and her sister. Elain giggles at the thought of the two tiny girls, barely more than smoke and shadows, carrying her new brother-in-law away, their empty shot glasses stacked on his head to make transporting them back to the kitchen for washing easier. Rhys and Feyre trail after her, Amren at their heels, and resume their earlier seats, despite the over abundance of open ones. Noticing the tables distinct lack of drinks, Amren heads off to the bar, muttering bitterly something about "kids these days" and "needing reinforcements".

Mor sees them return and skips back to the table, Azriel's hand clutched in hers. If it weren't for the contented expression on his face, Elain would swear that she was dragging the taller man. The blonde throws herself down next to Elain and this time she does really drag Azriel with her. For being such a small spunky thing Az is constantly amazing at her strength. She wraps an arm around Elain's neck, drawing the middle Archeron sister far closer than what's socially acceptable. Elain isn't offended though, taking the role of the family's hostess and peace making middle child seriously.

"Elain, Elain, Elain," Mor says, leaning her forehead against her new cousin-in-law's shoulder.

Elain giggles and leans her head onto Mor's, brown curls blending with Mor's blond locks. "I think you've had enough to drink tonight, Mor."

"Oh no," Azriel says with a dark chuckle, leaning over his girlfriend to meet Elain's gaze. "Mor is no where near drunk."

"Yeah," Feyre adds, "You should see her when she really gets going. When I first started hanging out with Rhys we used to play this game…. What was it called? What would drunk Mor do?"

"No no," Rhys says, "It was 'What wouldn't drunk Mor do?'"

Elain turns to Mor for confirmation, but a look on Feyre's face stops her. For a moment Elain swears she sees guilt across Feyre's face as she makes eye contact with Azriel, but he flashes her a wolfish grin and says, "More like 'Who wouldn't a drunk Mor do?'"

"Et tu, Az?" she moans.

"What?" he shrugs. "That was before we were together, and you've got me to watch your back now. It's not like you go home with strangers anymore."

"Anymore!?" Mor shrieks. "I never went home with…"

"Remember that one time with what's his face…" Feyre interrupts, snapping her fingers in Azriel's direction. "You know, from the circus… What was his name? Was it… Brad… Bro… Bron?

"That was one time!" Mor says, shooting up in her seat. She starts waving her hands trying to hush Feyre.

"I thought it was Hart," Rhys says.

"I could have sworn it was Bron." Feyre shakes her head.

"Both," Mor groans dramatically and drags a hand down her face. "You get drunk at one circus and they never let you live it down that you take home a couple of the clowns."

She props her elbows onto the table, and hangs her head in her hands, firm pout set on her lips. Mor avoids making eye contact with the rest of her friends, staring off towards the dance floor. She tunes them out, as brown eyes narrow in on a particular couple that make the teasing worth it. Something she needs to share, something that her friends and family need to see too. She whips back to her friends interrupting whatever snarky remark Rhys had been trying to make.

"I can see what's happening," Mor sings, throwing an arm around Elain's neck.

"What?" Elain asks, genuinely confused.

"And they don't have a clue," she inclines her head towards the dance floor, hoping that Elain, or anyone else at the table will catch on.

"Who?"

Using the tip of her finger, she guides Elain's head and points towards the couple on the dance floor. Cassian and Nesta. Nesta grinding on Cassian. Grinding and Elain is equal parts appalled and proud of her older sister. From the way that Cassian has his hands all over her it is a very much welcomed action.

"They'll fall in love and here's the bottom line - our trio's down to two."

Elain's eyes go wide and there's a collective, "Ooooh," from the table.

"Ze sweet caress of twilight. There's magic everywhere, and with all this romantic atmosphere," Mor continues and she shares a grin with Elain as the younger girl finally catches on, and joins her in the last part of the song, "Disaster's in the air."

"Oh it's going to be a disaster alright," Feyre says watching the pair. "My money's on Nesta."

A soft chuckle snakes along the table, and Rhys says, "So's mine."

"How much?" Mor asks turning to them, a mischievous glint in her brown eyes, and that's all it takes for bets to start flying.

Their attention shifts back to the table and away from the two just in time to miss Nesta fleeing from Cassian. Mor and Elain take Cassian's side. Mor because she's witnessed Cassian's tenacious pursuit in the name of love, and Elain, well, because someone needs to take pity on him.

Nothing can convince Azriel either way, however, and he tells them, "I don't know. Pretty sure the two of them are meant for each other."

It's then that Amren strolls up to the group, placing down another blood orange cosmo onto the table. Mor quickly fills her in and the shorter woman rubs her hands together with glee at the thought of new money lining her pockets. Mor cocks her head and asks why Amren thinks that money's going to be hers.

Amren snorts, "Oh that's easy. They'll be married by the end of the night."