Zevran Arainai had sex with your mom. (easy_lover) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2013-10-11 23:21:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, samandriel, zevran arainai |
Who: Zevran & Samandriel
What: There’s an elf in the bar!
When: Friday Night (10/11).
Where: Lux.
Rating: PG. I have no idea how Zev managed this.
Status: Complete.
Samandriel was of the habit of keeping his wings out while he played. It helped him stay comfortable all spread out behind him, and really the only one of Lux’s regulars who could see them was Lucifer so it hardly mattered. He was far less an accompanist and much more the star of the show when he was playing. It was hard to demure at all when Lucifer was there to be played for, to be pleased.
When his break came, (that he didn’t need, but Lucifer insisted on at least for appearances,) his lover was in his office doing paperwork and Samandriel was left to either mingle or go hide himself elsewhere. He considered trying to mingle at least to work on being a more social being or at least to keep Lucifer happy with him attempting to make an effort.
Leaning against the bar, he very politely asked the young woman behind it for a glass of water. She seemed to like him well enough, and he knew for certain that she thought he was a good influence on Lucifer, whatever else she might think of her job and the people she worked with.
Lest he look ungrateful for Lucifer’s advice, Zevran had shown up on a weekend day to see if Balthazar was around. Zevran didn’t think he would be, but he’d enjoyed his visit to Lux last time, and figured he wouldn’t mind a return trip.
Ambling up to the bar in yet another designer suit that showed off his broad shoulders, muscular chest, and trim hips, Zevran smiled at the boy at the bar. His order of water didn’t go unnoticed, but Zevran wasn’t in the mind to comment immediately. The boy looked a bit shy. Instead of saying anything, he just smiled brightly at the young man. He was kind of pretty.
“Balthazar won’t be back for another week at the earliest,” Samandriel said, not realizing that the other man hadn’t actually said anything out loud, just pined enough for Samandriel to hear. He looked over at the stranger. “Sorry.” He took his glass of water, managing a smile. “Thank you, Melissa.”
“You have wings and you can read my mind. Somewhere, you are someone’s fetish, you know.” Zev thanked the woman as well for his wine, swirling it before taking a sip. “I must confess, I am quite glad that the world does not have quite so much of an elf fetish as they do in my dreams.” Being kept as a fashionable house servant wasn’t really a thing Zev would be into.
The woman gave them both a bit of a look and walked away. “Some of us do have the luxury of hiding what we are to most people,” he said, looking over at Zevran in a way that very much communicated ‘thanks for outing me, asshole.’ “There’s only one other here with the ability to see my wings.” And Lucifer did far more than see them. Samandriel drew them a little closer to his body, protectively. His wings. His bar. His archangel.
“If she does not, she’ll just think I am strange,” Zevran shrugged. “She wouldn’t be the first.” He tucked his blond hair behind his ears, exposing their pointed tips and the hoops he sometimes wore in the bottom. The tattoo near his left eye made his eyes look somehow more green than their natural hazel.
Lucifer, while handsome, wasn’t who Zevran was interested in. Nor was Samandriel, after seeing how defensive the young man looked. Clearly, he was meant for someone else. “What do you do here, then, besides hold up the bar?”
Samandriel was less defensive and more increasingly uncomfortable about interacting with people without Lucifer around to serve as his balancing point. “I play violin.” He shifted his wings uncomfortably again before removing them from sight entirely.
“I am sorry I did not get to hear you play. Your young man, I spoke to him last week. He said his violinist was wonderful. I do not think that Mr. Morningstar is the sort to pay lip service to anyone.” Even people he was profoundly in love with.
Offering the young winged man his hand, Zev smiled. “I am Zevran. You may call me Zev, if you like.”
Samandriel shook the hand offered to him because he was polite and even his mother had managed to do one thing right. Barefoot still, he took a step back away from the bar. “Samandriel.” He didn’t want to be rude and say that he hadn’t expected an elf to be so short, but it really was a surprise. “Are you hungry, Zevran? I could get you something off the menu if you like.” Samandriel had that kind of pull around here not only because he was very clearly Lucifer’s but also because the staff genuinely did dote on him. Sometimes, being adorable was more an asset than being sexy or charming.
“You may, though I am not as hungry as you’d think.” Zev loved to eat, but he didn’t have to as often as humans did. Elvish constitution was a blessing, especially in his line of work. “I think I will partake regardless, simply because I’ve heard wonderful things.” He smiled, straightening his tie. “I appreciate your telling me about Balthazar. I didn’t come expressly for him.”
“No, but you’ve been thinking a great deal about him.” He walked with Zevran over to an out of the way table, pausing to speak warmly to a server to get him to prepare an order of his own favourite appetizers. He would have gone with Dean’s favourite, but he wasn’t sure if the other man’s kind of elf was vegetarian or not. Most elves in most worlds seemed to be, though. “And loudly.”
“That must be a burden for you.” Zev sprawled in his seat once they were settled, and he let his arms rest on the back. “I do not envy that ability.” Honestly, of all the ways his dreams could have affected him, Zev was pretty well okay with what had happened to him.
“Angel,” he said, sitting with far too perfect posture for a teenager. “In case you were looking for a species designation.”
“Truly? You are the first I have met! I am usually never anyone’s first elf,” Zev sulked. It just wasn’t fair, he was really obvious too. The boy held a certain mystique, he’d wondered for a while.
Samandriel smirked. “Well, while you might be my first elf, I’m not your first angel or even your second.” He took a sip of his water and let that sink in for a moment.
“Lucifer, that I would believe, but who is the second?” Zevran had gotten another glass of wine, pleased that the waitstaff was so attentive. “If you say it is one of my castmates, I shall scold you for watching dirty movies.”
“Lucifer is the second,” Samandriel said, well aware that the staff was only being quite so attentive because they were making sure that Lucifer’s boy wasn’t getting himself into trouble and now he understood exactly why. “Your first angel was Balthazar. Not that he knows that yet, but soon enough I imagine.”
Zev felt his jaw drop. “You are kidding me!” He couldn’t help but laugh. “Perhaps in his dreams, but not in reality!” Balthazar was as hedonistic as Zevran was.
“Angel of ownership and monarchy,” Samandriel said calmly. “And again, he remains unaware, but he did briefly unsink the Titanic allegedly because of a bone deep loathing for Celine Dion.” Not that Samandriel believed that. Balthazar had been as loyal to Castiel’s cause as Samandriel himself was if only in his own way.
“That is as good a cause as any,” Zev chuckled. “I will not tell him. He... is singular of most of the people I have met.” Really, for someone trying to pretend they didn’t fancy someone, he certainly did speak of Balthazar in a flattering light. “Though I doubt I will ever see him again.”
“You are absolutely smitten, aren’t you?” Samandriel said, finally relaxing into the conversation.
Zev blinked. “What makes you say that?”
“You get this little smile at the corner of your mouth when you think about him,” Samandriel pointed out. “And there’s only one reason I do that so…”
“Promise not to tell him? He would get so unbearably smug.” Zev drained the remainder of his wine, appreciating the wisdom of his companion. It wasn’t something he’d expected.
“He and I have yet to speak in this life at all, but from what I’ve observed, it doesn’t take much at all to make him unbearably smug.” Another sip of his water and Samandriel smiled. “Still, you have my word.”
“Thank you. I will not tell anyone any of your secrets, I do promise.” Zev crossed his heart. “I do not know why I care about him so. It is not as if I know anything about him.”
“A mystery is always attractive, especially when involves hints about its story,” Samandriel said simply. “Or alternately, sometimes we’re just drawn to people.” He glanced over at where Lucifer had stepped out of his office for a moment to speak with someone, smiling to himself.
“Is that what happened with you two? You were just drawn to him? Perhaps because of your common bloodlines?” Zev smiled. “That is terribly romantic you know.”
“He was drawn to me first. I ah...had considered myself fairly asexual until he showed up and then he showed up and I had no idea how to proceed, but I knew he was going to be mine.” It was simple, really. That suddenly Castiel and Dean were his as well in a sense was just a lovely bonus. “He keeps me Good.”
“How would you stop being good? It seems that for you, it is something inherent.” Zev was a pretty good judge of character, and he didn’t get any of the prickles and tingles that he did when people weren’t on the level.
“Anyone, good or otherwise, is capable of lashing out when they’re hurt or confused or overwhelmed.” These were the sorts of things Samandriel had been saying even before he found himself something other than human. “And I think you know more than most what it’s like to find yourself slowly becoming something other than what you were.”
“I ... experienced things in the dreams. Terrible things. But they did not make me different in my waking hours. Most of my changes were cosmetic. I have abilities I did not before, and obviously my ears, but ... I have not murdered anyone for money? So there is that.” He sighed a little, looking at his hands. Something had happened to Samandriel - otherwise why would he need help being Good?
Perhaps not being good so much as believing he was. “Small fortunes,” Samandriel teased. “Ask me how old I am, Zev,” he said softly, scanning the room to make sure no one else was in earshot.
“In your dreams or here?” Zevran smiled a little. “How old are you, Samandriel? You may whisper as low as you like, I will hear you.” Elvish senses were fairly keen.
“I am from the Beginning,” he said in a whisper so soft it wouldn’t disturb a butterfly’s wing. “And I am seventeen.”
Zev blinked. “Oh. Well, that does explain some things.” Zev only thought it as loudly as he could, lips barely moving. “I will keep your secret. But that does not make you less good, Samandriel. Merely born too late.”
“No, but it does make keeping the balance difficult at times,” he said, returning to a more reasonable volume.
“That makes sense,” Zev sighed. “I once was in love with a girl who was underage. Well. Infatuated with her. But I realized it would not work. She was not mature enough for ... relationships at all, really.” He chuckled a little. “I have learned my lesson.”
Samandriel bristled a little at the near insult. “It’s not a matter of maturity, just a matter of a brain that physically hasn’t finished developing and...and a great deal of change and tragedy both in life and when I sleep.” If he slept, which he was trying and failing at not doing.
“I did not mean you are immature. I mean that she was. Alma was ... very much younger than her years. You are the opposite, friend.” Zev smiled. “You are almost too old for me!”
Samandriel laughed softly as he finished his water. “I appreciate that.” The server was coming with the food he’d ordered for Zevran and Samandriel got up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me. I should get back to work. It was lovely talking to you, Zev.”
“You as well, Samandriel. I should send you a present shortly.” Zev couldn’t help but smirk lopsidedly. He tucked his hair behind his ears and waved, looking forward to eating well and enjoying Samandriel’s playing.