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“Oh, these rolls are delicious.” Chase cups one buttery bread roll in his hand, chomping down on it and humming both satisfaction and joy.
“Chase, do you ever get full?” Deacon shakes his head at his cousin, who reaches over and smacks him in the arm. Deacon elbows him back, softly.
“Not on free gluten, dorkin’. Not on free gluten.”
“Figures.” Deacon snorts and crosses his arms, watching Chase absolutely demolish the bread and sweets table beside him. The air is warm against his face despite this just being a story, and Deacon picks at the ruffles along his neckline.
“Bronze did a pretty good job with my outfit. I think he’s finally getting the hang of this,” Deacon says. He runs his hand down the front of his dark green jacket, smoothing out the fabric. He’s got a matching pair of pants with white ruffles along the hems and a hat with a feather. “It’s a little warm for this part of the story, though.”
“That’s why you gotta communicate with ‘em, dorkin’. Check out how Silver hooked me up!”
Chase does look pretty spiffy, even Deacon must admit. His blond cousin has a dark pink set on, his coming with a vest and capris that go just a few inches below his knees. He’s blinged out with small white jewels along his chest and stomach, and the back of his vest has a rose hemmed entirely out of what looks like golden spool. Still…
“Roses and rhinestones. Do you really look any different than you normally do?”
“Jealous,” Chase says around another mouthful of bread, and he chokes a little when he swallows. Deacon rolls his eyes and thumps the shorter Hollow on the back, gazing around the square.
“Yeah, right.” Deacon lets his blue eyes sweep over the clay-colored tiles that make up the main road and market floor. There are carts along the walls selling things like flowers, handmade trinkets, and accessories. A few tables are dotted throughout, including the one they’re standing by.
“Nice lights,” Deacon points out, looking up at the dozens of string lights overhanging the entire square. They’ve got a warm tint to them, and it really makes the night feel a lot more cozy.
“Oh, yeah. We should go by the depot tomorrow,” Chase pats his hands on the front of his dark pink slacks until they’re crumb-free. “I could totally go for having some of these in the Chastle.”
“The Chastle? What is that?”
“Uh, what it sounds like, duh!” Chase grins at Deacon, offering up the world’s worst attempt at a curtsy. “It’s gonna be what the Chasestation never could have been: romantic and totally not covered in tinfoil and broken dreams.”
“Oh my god, how are we related?” But Deacon is laughing at his cousin’s silliness, right up until a dark-haired girl with a nicely-fitting bodice wanders by. “Oh…” Deacon watches her go, their eyes meeting, and Chase snorts.
“Go get her, tiger. Or tom cat. Yeah, you’re more like a tom cat.”
“Don’t call me that!” Despite his scowl, Deacon is already making a beeline to follow after the maiden, saying to Chase, “We have awhile before the story really starts, right? I’ll be back by then.”
“Yeah, if she doesn’t break your heart and send you running back way before that.”
“Chase!”
“Byeeeee, dorkin’!”
Chase waves after Deacon as he laughs, turning back towards the tables.
Before he can really dig in deep on those scrumptious looking vanilla-dipped croissants, another voice pipes up, catching Chase’s attention faster than a new poster print of Caspian Wolfsblood. Almost. On like, a rare day.
“Well, it’s about time he left. Freckles there sure knows how to chit-chat when he wants to.”
Buddy steps out of the shadows, totally not in a super villainous way. He’s decked out in violet (ha, I wonder why) robes that hang to his knees before splitting down the center and revealing black slacks underneath. His arms are totally out and Chase preens at how nice they look.
“H-Hey, Buddy!” Chase drops the sweet in his hand and smiles, taking Buddy’s face into account as the taller boy gets closer.
Oh, I love when he wears the eyeliner. So hot.
“We all showed up ahead of schedule, it seems,”
Buddy offers Chase a smug smile. “I suppose blue moons really should be appreciated, on the rare nights that they roll around.”
“Oh, can it!” Swatting at Buddy, Chase tries hard to not pay attention to how his chilly blue eyes make the rest of his outfit really pop. Or maybe it’s the other way around?
“I will if you will,” Buddy promises and he steps closer to Chase, leaning down into his space to say into his ear, “Freckles knows that woman is married, yes?” Buddy feels his insides twist at the way Chase’s face goes blank. “No?”
“Oh my god, no,” Chase whispers, and the blond’s shoulders shake while he tries to hold in his laughter and fails.
“Oh, poor Deacon. That’s gonna be a rough wake-up call that he shouldn’t swoon after every girl he sees. At least this one is in a story where the other guy can’t, you know,” Chase waggles his hand. “Actually beat him up.”
“Perhaps.”
Quiet settles down over the two, Buddy watching Chase as Chase unsubtly watches Buddy back.
He’s really pretty, Chase thinks.
That color suits him, Buddy assesses, followed up by a fond, Well done, Silver.
“Hey, Buddy?” Chase clears his throat, running a hand through his hair. His fingers catch on the burette snapped in place close to his temple, and he so hopes that he didn’t make it go crooked.
“Yes?” Buddy shifts a little on his feet; maybe a nervous habit, maybe not.
“Well…” Playing with the hem of his vest, Chase offers his ‘enemy’ a sheepish look and shrugs. “You said we’re ahead of schedule, right? I mean, I already knew that, but…”
“But…?”
Chase is practically glowing in the night and the fact that he doesn’t even realize has Buddy’s gut somersaulting up towards his heart.
Somehow he knows the words are coming, but his hairs stand on end, anyway.
“Buddy, dance with me?” Chase says with a smile, his golden hair glittering under the lights. “It’s okay if you don’t wanna.”
Buddy stares at Chase’s out-stretched hand. He thinks back to that kiss just a few books ago, considers the fact that they haven’t really talked about it, and wonders if that’s for the best.
“Well,” A blush pours itself over the alabaster canvas that is Buddy’s pale cheeks, and he clears his throat. “I am free, right this moment.”
“Well, duh.” Chase’s smile only grows and Buddy wonders if he knows it’s almost electric. “You can’t be the ‘bad guy’ 24/7, right?” He asks.
That somersaulting feeling in Buddy’s stomach switches into an anxious roil, and he pushes back against it with everything he has.
“…Right.”
“Is that a yes or a badly said double yes?”
Buddy snorts, despite how unbecoming it is.
“Fine, br— Chase,” he corrects himself and carefully places his hand in the shorter’s. Buddy pulls himself closer and then side-steps Chase entirely, taking the lead as he moves towards the square’s center.
“I take it you still don’t know how to lead?”
Buddy doesn’t say that he’s been watching time and time again as Chase has had to dance with prince after prince, in story after story. He doesn’t dare mention how he’s been like a cactus prickling with jealousy, either.
“Uh, well,” Chase cups his hand into Buddy’s and lets his other hand rest on Buddy’s opposite shoulder. “I did try once,” he says as a band somewhere out of sight starts playing. It’s almost like this is a fairy tale or something, and the characters just know how to read the room (get it? because it is, and they do).
“Oh, really?” Buddy quirks a brow as he closes his hand around Chase’s and cups his hip with the other. “When was this?” He asks, starting to lead them through the steps.
Buddy thinks of all those dozens of books ago, back when Chase meant nothing to him and he was a lot more sour about having to dance with the other boy.
“Uh, when I was supposed to be the tutor and instead I got tutor-ed. By you.”
Buddy scoffs, but there’s a curl to the corner of his mouth that’s hard to miss or deny.
“Figures,” is all he says and, maybe in an act of boldness, he moves his one hand from Chase’s hip to the small of his back. Buddy pulls Chase closer and can’t possibly miss how Chase shivers.
“Yeah, well…” But the grin Chase turns on Buddy is confident, despite how he feels like a dozen bees are buzzing around in his chest. “I’m the princess, not the prince, you know?”
“That is how these people see you,” is Buddy’s ready agreement. He steps backwards and pulls Chase with him, side-stepping another couple dancing shortly after. “This may look strange to them, by the way.”
“What might look strange?” Chase asks as he follows Buddy’s steps, trying to commit as many of them to memory as he can.
Simon can probably do this, if I bribe him into coming to practice.
“A beautiful maiden dancing with an old hag.”
Buddy hates the way he has to describe himself, but he can just vaguely make out his appearance reflecting in Chase’s illuminated pupils and yes, he is definitely what can only be defined as a hag.
“Beautiful?” Chase feels his cheeks growing hot at the maybe compliment, maybe not. Buddy sputters.
“Well, that’s how the story describes your role in all this,” he saves himself with a quick pull of too many words that are too accurately delivered.
He is, Buddy thinks, just as Chase’s shoulders droop. Buddy tries not to take any offense to how Chase looks away from him.
A few quiet beats pass, other couples coming and going around them, and Buddy lets himself look his fill while Chase is busy making not-eye contact with him.
He’s really something, especially under these tinted lights. Chase’s hair reminds Buddy of pixie dust, and his complexion resembles something Buddy can only compare to the sandy shores that they fought and then became maybe-friends on, what feels like ages ago.
“How do you see me?” Chase finally asks, after they’ve done a couple go arounds. Buddy thinks.
“You are definitely a handful.” Chuckling, Buddy spins Chase out just to yank him back, and he preens at the way Chase clutches at his chest on the whip-back. “More trouble than you’re worth.”
“Oh, hilarious. You think you’re really funny, don’t you, book boy?” But Chase is smiling. He pushes his knee against Buddy’s and Buddy takes the necessary step for the next motion of the dance.
“I like to think so.” Buddy rubs subtle circles into Chase's back. “On occasion.”
“Yeah, well I’m funnier. You should’ve seen your face when I set that hut on fire.” Chase moves as Buddy does, watching the way Buddy’s hair shines just like the stars in the sky.
“Do not,” Buddy warns him and he spins Chase out again. This time Chase voluntarily lets go and twirls, and Buddy smiles to himself as he makes the hasty steps forward to catch him again.
“I think I did great.”
“You burned down our only means of shelter.”
“Yeah, but I also gave you chocolate.”
“Curse you.”
Chase throws his head back and laughs as he and Buddy meet back in the center, hands finding their ways exactly to where they ought to be.
“You don’t mean that,” Chase says, giddy. He runs his hand down Buddy’s side and smiles, looking up at him. “You like me.”
Buddy’s hands stop where they were just starting to rub against Chase’s hips in a move that is definitely not part of the normal dance.
“I…” His world tilts. Buddy stares into Chase’s eyes once again, and what he finds there threatens to swallow him whole. “I…”
“You…?” Chase stops his feet, standing in place and staring up at his own personal villainess.
There’s something alight in Buddy’s stunned stare; so close Chase can almost taste it. He looks ready to run and at the same time ready to stand his ground against Chase’s words, although Chase wonders if it’s in a good or bad way.
“I, um… That is to say…” Buddy’s cheeks are the perfect shade of pink and Chase smiles, confidently taking a step to bridge the small gap between them.
“Buddy? Are you leading up to something, or—?”
Chase thinks about their kiss at the end of the world right as Buddy’s gaze drops down to his lips, and both their stomaches give nervous twirls.
“Of course not,” Buddy says quietly, but his tone is a dead give away that he isn’t being sincere. “I mean, I don’t know what you… What do you want me to…” He doesn’t remember agreeing to it, but before Buddy knows it his head is leaning down.
“Oh my god,” Chase murmurs. His face is just as flushed as Buddy’s. “You’re nervous,” he says, like it’s too wild a concept to wrap his head around.
“I— So? So are you,” Buddy argues, and he wonders when Chase leaned up to meet him halfway. He’s definitely a lot closer.
“Yeah, but you’re more obvious about it. S-St-Stuttering.”
Buddy is appalled. “I am not—“ He leans so close that his forehead is nearly brushing Chase’s.
“Prove it,” Chase dares him, and Buddy suddenly doesn’t know left from down or up from Tuesday or purple from a snow cone.
“You little—“ Buddy grabs hold of Chase’s chin and lifts it as he stares down at the other almost in defiance. “You are asking for it,” he warns Chase.
“That’s the plan,” Chase says with a cheesy smile, and he leans up onto his tiptoes. Buddy leans as well, feeling worked up for all the reasons that his brain tells him are wrong. But they feel… perfect.
“You are a brat.” Buddy cups Chase’s cheek and just as he’s slipping his eyes shut, watching Chase’s honey-glazed irises start to droop and disappear…
“CHASE!”
Deacon comes running like a horse with no brakes out of the crowd. He’s panicked and his clothes are torn and he runs directly between them, shoving the two apart. His ruffled neckline is around his waist, stretched and wasted.
“She wasn’t single! I repeat: she was married!” Deacon yells as he keeps running, one angry man with a pitchfork running after him. The maiden in question brings up the rear, and Chase as well as Buddy stare after them.
“That… cannot be good,” Buddy says quietly.
“Nope.”
“You uh, you were about to say something, Buddy?”
“I forgot,” Buddy lies.