Balthazar gives not a single fuck (sinkstheship) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-09-28 23:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, balthazar, lucifer morningstar |
Who: Balthazar & Lucifer
What: Snarktopus
When: 9/28 - late evening
Where: Lux
Rating: Low(ish) - All the snark. All of it. Lucifer and Balthazar really just love to hate each other.
Status: Complete
Balthazar really didn’t like Lux all that much. He’d been going there for a while, of course, because it was still one of the places to be seen, but that didn’t mean it was high on his list of enjoyable experiences. Still, he appreciated that there wasn’t anything about it that threatened his eardrums and the atmosphere had gotten better once something other than that godawful pianist was introduced. The boy on the violin was a near prodigy, a child who couldn’t possibly be older than sixteen. He had that very...springy energy about him, the kind that Balthazar barely had the patience for.
But he played like the music was his soul and Balthazar couldn’t help but appreciate that on a purely aesthetic level. It was much in the way he appreciated many things, at a distance or close enough where hopefully they wouldn’t open their mouths and ruin the appeal.
Lucifer was one of those sorts of things as well. Not that Balthazar would admit it, of course. Nor would he admit that he rather enjoyed the man’s company. He liked the man’s cynicism. It suited both of them just fine. Shame about the forehead, though.
Regardless, the boy was on his violin and showed no signs of having any desire to stop and Balthazar was enjoying his wine and lovely entreé when the body attached to the rest of that unfortunate browridge started heading his direction. Delightful.
That unfortunate browridge and all the rest, while headed toward Balthazar, had his eyes more or less on the violinist. Lucifer didn't make a huge spectacle of his (sort of discreet) relationship with Samandriel, but that didn't mean he didn't like to watch his boyfriend work, either. The younger man was absolutely lovely when he played and no one could deny that.
Eventually, though, he made it to Balthazar's table, nearly ever present martini glass in hand. "It's been a while since you've graced this establishment with your shining personality," Lucifer said, somehow polite and blithe at the same time.
Balthazar rolled his eyes while Lucifer spoke. “Yes, well wouldn’t want to ruin the mystique,” he replied dryly. He took a sip of his wine. “Objectifying the help again are we?” He didn’t need to nod to the poor overeager violinist. Lucifer would know. Idly, he wondered if the child had pranced his way straight from his elementary school in some sort of horrendously garish pair of short shorts and sailor hat to Lucifer’s bed and then gainful employment. “Where on earth did you find such an enchanting toddler?”
Lucifer gave a sarcastic, lopsided sort of smile even as he pulled out the extra chair at the table and seated himself there. Samandriel, of course, was probably distantly aware of the conversation even while playing, and Lucifer wasn't in the habit of lying. "Jamba juice," he said it wryly, and settled his martini down on the table. "You might not know it, they don't serve wine."
“I do try to avoid places that don’t have a dress code or serve alcohol. It’s a general distaste for children and unwashed masses.” He gave Lucifer a bit of a look. “Jamba Juice. Aren’t those in malls generally? Oh my, what would your brother think of that? Did you stop at what is it… Build a Barbie on the way out?” Not that Balthazar had any intention of telling Michael. Honestly, Michael was far more unbearable on a good day than Lucifer was on his worst. Bloody pretentious, controlling bastard. Oh dear, he hoped he hadn’t said that out loud.
“So, how long have you been leading this one on, or are you actually not diddling your artists in residence this time?” Not that Balthazar particularly cared, but it was likely the less painful painful topic between the options of mass consumption, family and fucking.
"I'd have thought you'd like malls," Lucifer said, pointedly ignoring the jibe about his brother, because it was never much of a pleasure to consider Michael in any capacity. "your target prime-time network television watching fans surely spend most of their time there." A pause. "When they aren't slotted on their couches and suspending disbelief over how you could possibly be a believable doctor."
Apparently, Lucifer was sticking with mass consumption because Balthazar Gordon had absolutely no need at all to know about whether or not Lucifer was diddling his musician.
“My demographic might not generally be people worth spending time with, but I assure you they are fanatically devoted.” Balthazar said it like it was something that disgusted him. “Didn’t you know, darling? All you need is an accent and a nice suit and you can make panties wet and dicks hard for miles around.” He smirked deviously at the other man and took a smug sip of his wine. “It certainly worked for yours more than once.”
He glanced at the violinist who was canted just so, profile to them instead of back like he was eavesdropping (or trying to) even while he played. “You really are a beautiful disaster, you know that?”
Lucifer rolled his eyes and picked his drink back up. There was something about Balthazar that always brought out the worst in him, and he was often in the habit of imagining setting the other man on fire. But no. Lucifer Morningstar did not stoop so low. Usually.
"Your suit was hardly that nice," he said, just this side of prim, before following that glance back to Samandriel. Well. That was going to be an interestingly awkward conversation later on, he could just tell. "Beautiful disaster? That's terribly poetic. Why do you say that?"
“That suit was a Fioravanti and it was nearly perfect before you went and destroyed it like an overeager puppy,” Balthazar replied before taking another bite of his terribly lukewarm entreé. “But yes, beautiful disaster.” His gaze lingered on the violinist and those far too alluringly tailored slacks. Balthazar could recognize a Morningstar’s hand in things the way some people could, say, recognize different cloud types or some other sort of nonsense.
“How old is he? Twelve? Fourteen?” The boy wasn’t at all Balthazar’s type. He preferred the company he brought home to be a bit more broken in. “Are you grooming him, is that it? Really, Lucifer, that’s twisted even for you.”
"It was your obnoxiousness that had you rolling us both off the bed," Lucifer reminded mildly, like he was just talking about a stroll through the park, as opposed to referencing their angry half fight half tumble for who took the top. "It's hardly my problem the jacket got ripped." He sipped his drink and watched Balthazar watching Samandriel for a moment.
"There's no fault in me wanting my employees to dress nicely. Particularly the performers." It wasn't really denial, but it was hardly Lucifer being particularly out in the open either.
“No, but I do recall you being at fault for the destruction of my zipper,” Balthazar replied dryly. He turned to give Lucifer a bit of a look, one that said the other man was fooling absolutely no one with that line. “Perhaps not, but do you happen to recall that you own a piano bar and not a the pianist only exists to accompany the boy scout on violin bar?” It was pretty obvious who was stealing the show there.
Again, it wasn't his fault that the zipper couldn't hold up against a bit of teeth. Balthazar really needed a better tailor. Lucifer did not mention this.
"Only on weekends," Lucifer demurred, and it was hardly a very good defense at all. But, infuriatingly, Balthazar did have a bit of a point. Clearly, the apocalypse was starting right here, right now. "Samandriel is one of the finest musicians I've met. Age is hardly relevant when talent is concerned."
“Poor boy, I do hope for his sake that his name isn’t the only thing about him that’s a mouthful.” Did the child just turn bright red? Balthazar did suppose it was pretty obvious that they were speaking of him, and truly he wasn’t being at all shy in his visual appraisal.
"Stop checking out my violinist, you're agitating his playing." Lucifer said, looking a bit testy over it all. And yes, he was claiming the younger man, even if it was in a fairly vague sense. This time, when he took a drink of his martini, he finished it off in one long swallow. Really, Balthazar seemed to just encourage being uncouth.
“Darling, you didn’t dress him like that without expecting him to be checked out,” Balthazar pointed out, smirking just a bit to himself over having successfully gotten under the other man’s skin. “And his playing sounds just fine to me.”
"Can you even hear it over the sound of your own ego?" Lucifer looked down at his now empty glass and resisted the urge to sigh before scooting his chair back a little. "Well, I think I'll leave you to your silent judging for the moment."
“While you’re off, do be a dear and take this back to the kitchen and have them warm it up for me. Customer service is important at this fine establishment, isn’t it?”
The look that Balthazar got for his troubles was a withering one, but Lucifer took the plate anyway. Of course they were both aware that in an establishment of this calibre there were no microwaves. Asking for a reheat was the exact same thing as asking for an entirely new entree. "You," Lucifer said, directly before walking away toward the kitchen, "are the absolute worst."
Balthazar smirked deviously as he watched Lucifer walk away. “And yet you keep coming back for more,” he murmured when the other man was out of earshot. Another sip of his wine and he leaned back in his chair to watch the music.