Speakeasy

“There’s that cutting wit we all hate to love.”

Reaching across the bar, she pays his cheek with just enough sarcasm to play down the gesture. He tries to swat her hand away so she flicks his ear as her arm retreats, busying herself with taking a tray of glasses from the bar to the wall behind her to start filling the shelves, ready for tonight’s orders.

In the large mirror’s reflection, she can catch him watching her, eyes narrowing, trying to figure her out. It’s like he expects her to tell him the sky is falling and the stock market is crashing while London sits in fire.

“So. I found an overnight job for you. Just a single night, that’s all I could convince your father to let me give you. You’ll be going to Baltimore this Thursday and staying the night to pick up supplies I had Lance order us. Normally he’d get them and do the delivery but he’s out of town for the week for business. So. Dolan said I could send you. Just normal things, cured meats, sugar, soap. Things that won’t get you in trouble.”

“Uh. Overnight.”

His brain tests out the idea the same as he tests it out on his tongue, his brow furrowed a little bit, a half-frown pulling at his lips. Nighttime is his favorite time now, at least the part that’s after closing and before reopening and full of her body close to his and his curled around hers.

“Um. Lance is really too busy to do it?”

The look she shoots him reminds him that by all accounts he should be very thankful for this opportunity. He’d been whining for weeks about not having one just like this. But God, how quickly some things can change beyond what he ever expected.

“No, I️ mean I’m. Yeah, that’s great, Trita. Thank you.”

It comes out a little less convincingly than he’d attempted, so he offers a conciliatory smile instead, slightly crooked, a little playful.

“No, really. I️ am very grateful. But. Does it have to be overnight?”

“Yes, it does.”

Her brow furrows some as she looks at him, shooting him a frowning through the reflections in the mirror.

He has absolutely no idea what it took for her to convince Dolan to let Shand get out of the house alone at all. All the time she spent, the things that had to line up, the constant wearing Dolan down about it. And now here he is questioning her on it.

Fair enough, he has Fengari now. She knows it isn’t Dolan’s favorite thing when she leaves nor is it her favorite thing when he leaves. But the two of them still do it, no fuss.

“You need to be there Thursday to sign for the shipment and check in then pick it up on Friday and make the trip back here. If the shipment were smaller, you could sign on the same day but, for something like this, it’s an overnight affair. After. What? A year or more of not even getting day trips?”

Trita flips a glass up and fills it nearly to the brim with straight bourbon but several whiskey stones stationed at the bottom to cool it off. Shand’s eyes cut to it as if expecting her to hand it to him for seconds. With a shake of her head and a quick about face towards him, she begins sipping it herself as she studies him.

“I booked a fairly nice hotel for you, too. You’re welcome.”

He starts to roll right into asking what he really wants to know now, what size the bed is in this nice room she booked him. He’d forgotten how easy things could be with Trita, once upon a time ago, when he didn’t make so much trouble for her.

Come to think of it, it’s not like he’s been consciously trying to behave differently lately. It’s not like he would have even known how if he’d wanted to. But this, the casual sipping on drinks together while chatting about business, no voices raised, a laugh mixed in here and there. It makes something in his chest ache with a little bit of nostalgia. Things always used to be like this, didn’t they? Before prison?

The only thing different now that he can think of is Fen.

And what the hell, he thinks. She already knows anyway.

“So. Hell itself would have to freeze over before I️ could sneak Fen out of here with me on that trip, wouldn’t it? Hell freeze over, or my dad go blind... hey, don’t they say a certain kind of sexual activity can help a guy go that way? I️ bet you could nudge him in the right direction, couldn’t you? Be a doll?”

He quirks another smile that says he knows full well how outrageous he’s being and then nurses his rum some more.

"Oh, you know I don't care if you take Fen with you. The hotel bed is big enough for the two of you."

Trita shrugs nonchalantly, tapping her nail against the glass in her hand. She wishes she could say she intentionally booked a room with a queen-sized bed in it in the hopes he would bring Fen with him. Honestly? That's just always what she's done when she's booked hotels for people, made sure they had the nicest affordable thing to be in comfort while away from the house.

Though, now for Shand, that thinking ahead could serve another purpose if he let it.

"If you take her with you, you'll have to come clean to your father about your relationship with her, that's the only real stipulation to this. Other than that, you two go on and frolic around Baltimore. Sounds like fun."

Trita takes a sip from her bourbon, leans back on the counter behind her, and sighs out her nose as the liquid warms her mouth and throat. It's always a comforting feeling when very little else gives her a moment's rest. If she weren't so controlled with her own self, she could see how easily alcoholism could take hold of her, and she understands how it does for so many others. There is some just so inviting about the burn of a liquor swirling in your mouth.

"Besides, Fen would probably like to get out the house, yeah? I'm not even sure she's ever left this city."

“Uh. Yeah. About that.”

Shand throws back the rest of the rum, deciding he most likely needs it for the rest of this conversation if he wants it to continue smoothly.

“Under no circumstances can my dad find out about us. None. Ever. Like never.”

He goes to drain his glass again only to find it empty, and he pushes it down the bar a little ways from him with a frustrated huff. As he thinks, he runs a hand through his hair, something about the gentle tug feeling reassuring. He hadn’t been slicking his hair back much these days, not since Fen begged him to stop, pulled him aside after one performance and just stuck her hands in his hair and messed it up really good, among other things. He hadn’t needed a lot more convincing after that.

“You know how he is. It’s what’s best for everyone, really. And we’ve been doing a pretty good job keeping it under wraps, so he never needs to find out.... and don’t look at me like that, just because you figured it out doesn’t mean he will. Especially if you can find it in your heart to keep him extra distracted. From here on out. For, well. Forever.”

Something churns in his stomach still thinking about how right Trita probably is. Fen has waited on pins and needles for him to come back from his trips for mostly the whole time they’ve known each other, always excited to be regaled with stories of the places he’d been. He knows she wants to see the world too, experience things on her own. She’d love to go on this trip with him. But the way his stomach flops at the idea of telling his father makes him feel even worse than leaving Fen behind.

"... You're really going to let the fear of telling your father you're in a relationship with Fen keep you from having fun things like overnight trips or openly holding hands around here?"

Shand shoots her a sort of panicky look, a pleading one, one she isn't entirely used to seeing on his face. It's off.

Trita disagrees with this, disagrees with his decision. It seems wrong for multiple reasons. It's lying to his father, for starters. Keeping something from the man who puts a roof over his head, who helped pay to find a way out of jail for him, who thinks about Shand more than his pride will let him say.

But, most importantly, it doesn't seem fair to Fen. It seems like hiding their relationship and letting this fear come between them would hurt her, maybe even offend her. It'll definitely build up some tension. No girl wants to think a guy can't justify her being worth some sort of risk in their life.

"Calm down, I'll leave the decision up to you. Your life, your relationship. I won't tell him if you don't."

And, at the end of the day, this isn't her relationship. They're still new to all of this, they need to talk this sort of thing out, but when they do it and how isn't up to her. All she can do is let them work it out.

“Well stop giving me the judgy eyes then.”

Shand gives her something of a smile, a little teasing to take some of the emphasis off the conversation and off him. It won’t fool her and it won’t fool his own mind, of course, but it’s a gut reaction at this point.

He knows what she’s trying to say. He knows she’s right. He knows that Fengari doesn’t deserve for him to react to his own fears and insecurities like this. He can picture a million different scenarios in which he’s a better man and this isn’t a problem, and they can just be together without caring who knows. But all of those scenarios are imaginary and lies.

He huffs a long sigh and pushes away from the bar, slipping off the stool and straightening his shirt with two fingers hooked against the last buttoned button near his clavicle.

“So Baltimore it is then. Thursday. I’ll be on my very best behavior.”

"Baltimore?"

Fengari lies on her stomach, stretched across Shand's bed, propped up on her elbows to watch him as he throws things into a messy pile on top of a closed suitcase, not bothering to pack until he's sure everything is there waiting for him.

Something has been on his mind for the past couple of days but she had no clue how to get it out of him. And, in the end, it seems like such a simple thing. It's just a business trip.

"Have you been to Baltimore before?"

Her eyes follow a pair of suspenders he chucks to the ground, eyebrow arching up some at an obvious lipstick stain on them. The sight makes her face turn red and she has to look away, distracting herself by tracing the pattern on his comforter.

It's odd to think that just a few months ago, this sort of casual reclining on his bed would be the furthest thought from her mind. It's intimate and comfortable in ways she never used to openly think the two of them would be, despite secretly wanting it deep down. Yet, here they are. Here she is in a new powder blue fringe-heavy short flapper dress, gems tucked down into the fabric along the hems, her favorite set of pearls on her neck and an assortment of blue feathers in her hair.

Which. In another unusual change, is completely down rather than pinned up into her fake bob. All it really took was for Shand to play with her hair all those nights lying on top of each other for her to consider keeping it down and accessible to more such moments. By the time he offered the deal of the two of them wearing their hair naturally together, she was on board. Her only complaint is how it sprawls and gets in her way, but it's a small con to a major pro.

Back to her thought, while it would have been strange to be here in his room like this a few months ago, it's quickly become her favorite place to spend her free time now. It smells like him everywhere, smoke, rum, a little bit of saltwater thrown in. And, when he's in here with her, it supplies the best company to boot.

A loud huff snaps her from her tracing to look back up, catching Shand as he debates between two different shirt options to pack for his travels.

"Take the lavender one."

A playful smile crosses her lips... Well, she hopes it reads playful because she feels rather bashful. She's still not used to making fun flirtacious comments like that, though it is becoming easier as time passes.

An amused little sigh escapes his lips as he tosses the dark green one back into the closet, not even bothering to hang it back up. When his mind gets messy, so does his room.

“Are you sure? There’s really only one shade of this color that looks good across my skin tone and since it’s attached to your head, I️ don’t think I️ can stow it away with me.”

He wrinkles his nose at her, a comfortable sort of expression, playful and intimate and unguarded. It really hasn’t taken long, but it’s easy to recognize that she’s become his best friend in the world. Really he should have seen it sooner, given into it sooner. The way she’d always be waiting for him when he’d come home, get so excited to hear his stories, even if they were boring. The way he’d embellish the boring ones without even meaning to, just to hear her laugh and see her eyes go wide with glee.

“Baltimore. Ugh. I’ve only ever been there once, during the summer. Muggy place, but it’s off the water, so that’s to be expected. But the bay can really smell sometimes. I️ don’t know. Kind of expecting it to be real cold about now.”

He involuntarily pulls his cuffs down closer to his wrists as if he’s feeling the maritime chill already. It’s a little too much for him to imagine currently because he abandons packing and tosses himself onto the bed beside Fen, carefully removing her feathered headpiece so he can stick his face into her hair instead and flip her around to lay curled up in his arms.

“This is a lot warmer than it’s going to be in Baltimore. I️ hate Baltimore.”

She lets him position her how he wants, she still has a bit of a hard time reading if he wants to lay on top of her, let her lay on top of him, or something else. Gradually, she's learning to read his signs, but sometimes it's best to follow his lead and continue learning. Once she figures out what he's going for, she curls right into him, lifting her legs to get them out of the way, bending them over the curve of his hip, the toes of her shoes dangling off the side of the bed.

His breath moves her hair and tickles her skin in a way that she can't help but laugh a little before sighing, pressing her nose against his accessible clavicle. Thank god he likes to wear those top two buttons of his shirts undone.

"I've seen some pictures of Baltimore, it doesn't look completely terrible."

In the midst of this, her hands find his vest, unbuttoned, nearly like a child quietly protesting church clothes. As she works her hands up, buttoning his vest for him, she begins to think further into this situation.

His tone implies... And the way he's acting... No, surely she's wrong, right?

Fen steals a glance up at his face, studying his expression closely, trying to figure him out, trying to find a way to lead into her thoughts without coming across as too needy and annoying of a girlfriend.

"You know... I could go with you? Just. To keep it from being so miserable?"

Part of him, the majority part, starts to sink into her suggestion, melt into it really. Of course she should go. It’s the only solution that fixes how terrible it seems to have to do it without her. He presses his face further into her hair, breathing in that soft, warm scent deeply and burrowing his nose in a little.

But.

He groans into her hair, pulls a handful he has of her dress closer to him, possessively.

“My dad still doesn’t know. Most everybody still doesn’t know.”

He doesn’t really want to even talk about Trita knowing. It only takes one leak to bring down a whole dam, given enough time. He knows he’s paranoid, but still.

“I️ just. It’s not the right time to tell people.”

The words almost hurt him coming out of his mouth. They’re what need to be said, of course, but he hates letting them out. They feel wrong, but there’s alternately nothing more realistic.

“You know what I️ mean? I’d take you with me in a heartbeat if I️ could. It’s just. You know.”

"Oh."

She lets her eyes slip from his face back down to his neck right in front of her, focusing on the edges of a tattoo that peeks up from under his collar.

What he says, the way he says it... It doesn't settle well with her, but she can't quite put her finger on why. It just. Stings, a little. That's all she has so far. It crushes something, something a little bit more than simply being disappointed about not going on one trip. Though that disappointment certainly does add to the feeling, whatever it is.

"I. Guess that makes sense..."

Fen stops buttoning his vest but lets her hands rest at the last button. This feeling is strong, it nearly makes her want to get up and find an excuse to be by herself right now, at least long enough to figure out what this is.

But. That would be counter-productive. She's about to not see him for probably a little over a full day, given travel time and all. She should enjoy the moments she gets before then, even if it means ignoring this gnawing nagging awful feeling.

So, the best she can, she shoves it back down and turns to give him the best smile she can at the moment.

"Well. That's okay. Maybe one day. Just make sure to bring me something back."

“Oh, Fen.”

It slips out of his lips like a sad little sigh, and he’s unable to add anything more substantive to it. He rests his cheek against the top of her head and pulls her a little closer. He’s not sure what to say to make it better. An apology would sound so empty when he can’t follow it up with fixing things. He’ll have to just really make it up to her when he gets back.

“Uh, well. Yeah, you know I️ never come back without something for you. And it’ll only be one night.”

It being one night at all makes him want to curl up under the bed like a feral cat and refuse to be pulled out, not for Baltimore, not for anything, except for her.

“And besides, it’s a supply run anyway. Domestic kind of stuff, Trita said. Is there anything you need more of? Got enough feathers and all that?”

He picks up her headpiece and tickles her nose with the feathers on it, his heart aching for just a tiny smile, if any.

"No-"

She swats the feathers away from her face, wrinkling her nose, and she can feel her body try to react to him. Her lips twitch like she wants to smile, just as she always does at his antics, but something about it doesn't feel right.

What in the world is going on with her? She can't piece these thoughts and emotions together. The most she has is they sting but that's nothing concrete and substantial to go off of. And she's never ever had this sort of sensation when she's around Shand before, so why now? Is this just something as simple as she's going to miss him for the next day? It doesn't feel that simple but maybe she's overcomplicating it.

"I. I mean, I don't think I need anything."

With a flick of her hand that she hopes comes across as playful, she snatches the feathers back from him, wags them in his face some, then reaches to put them behind her on the bed, out of the way.

It's times like this when she wishes she could speak to Dolan. No one knows how to word explanations of confusing emotions like he does. Everyone says he's bad at explaining feelings and abstract thoughts, but any time she's asked him anything he's been one of the few people that can. At least in a way she understands. It's been like that since she got to the family.

But. She'd have to be incredibly stupid not to understand that Dolan is the main person Shand is trying to keep this relationship from. Running to him to ask for relationship advice about a relationship he's not supposed to know about seems like a losing game.

Sighing, she shakes her head some, shrugs, her shoulders, lets her eyes wander up to Shand's face and puts on another smile for him. Just because she's confused doesn't mean she should make him feel miserable... Right?

"Of course. If you brought me back cookies, I wouldn't complain."

He lays in silence for a few long moments, unwilling to let the part of the conversation end in the way it looks like it’s going to. But what other choice does he have? If she’s willing to let it go for now, he should take the out. And make it up to her in a million ways at the very next opportunity. Every time he turns around he’s reminded of another reason he doesn’t deserve her.

“Huh. Cookies, you say? I’ve done that one before though. That variety tin I️ brought you back from Chicago? Remember I️ told you I️ rushed home and paid the cabbie extra to speed so they’d still be at least somewhat fresh.”

He takes up stroking her hair absentmindedly, talking about baked goods but trying to think on a much larger scale.

“You know, I️ know this bakery in Baltimore that makes a killer cupcake. It’ll knock you back. I’ll bring home a half dozen just for you, you can hide em in that little secret spot in the kitchen, yeah? Or..... you know. Just under our bed.”

Their bed. It comes out so naturally that his lips quirk up a little bit. It sounds and feels right, but at this point, that could mean either of their beds with how often they alternate to keep any potential family spies off their trail.

Right. This is what she wanted. Moving on and changing topics. It's the best and healthiest thing to do. She started this, anyways.

It's a little easier to do when he makes comments like "our bed." That can definitely distract her long enough to push these thoughts away until he has to leave in a few hours.

One corner of her lip slips up some and she shakes her head like she's disappointed in him.

"We'll get mice in the room if I do that. The last thing this house needs is mice."

Fen pushes off of him some and sits up, looking around the room for a moment, taking in the furniture arrangement along with any open space that's left, humming to herself as she does.

"Maybe I can get an icebox up here by the time you're back. That'll be best for them. But. You don't really have the space... Not sure what to do about that one."

Running his eyes around the room, Shand shrugs. Truth be told, he’d rearrange the whole damn place to make her happy.

“I need to clean out my closet anyway. I’ll get rid of some stuff and one could go at the bottom. Or I️ could move the bed around in front of the window for more space. But then we’d just have to be very vigilant about closing the blinds.”

He snickers into her hair, runs a hand up her thigh and pulls it closer around his hip. And sure, he loves getting tangled up with her when it leads to sex, or even follows it. But this sort of lazy, easy cuddling where they end up like sleepy pretzels for no reason other than to just be with each other? That could be his favorite.

“God, I️ don’t want to pack. Go tell Trita I️ don’t want to go, she’ll listen to you.”

Even he can admit he’s whining like a child and he should take the bone Trita’s throwing him with a grateful smile and a good attitude.

“You should come down with a cold. So you can’t sing while I’m gone. I️ don’t like the idea of you being up there with nobody covering the stage.”

And what he means, of course, is simply looking menacing around the stage so no drunk men feel free enough to get insulting or handsy.

His pulling on her thigh jostles her enough to get her looking down at him, head tilted to the side, not understanding what he means.

"But I'm not sick?"

It takes her a moment to figure out what he's saying, but, when she does, it makes her frown down at him. Fen takes her fingers and pinches the bridge of his nose gently, letting him see her cheeks puff out as she pouts.

"If you're going to be gone and I can't go with you, the least I can have is singing. You don't get to go traveling the world and leave me locked up in here doing nothing."

He tries to ramble in some backtracking, but she cuts him off by moving her hand down to cover his mouth, letting her expression shift from a pout to a soft, somewhat amused smile.

Besides, that last statement was too personal, too close to these confusing feelings she hasn't solved yet. She needs to divert from them again.

"Don't worry, Shand. Nothing is going to happen to me up on that stage, especially just in one night. Dolan, Kvanne, Trita, Axel, they're all still here. It'll be fine, promise. Maybe if I sing louder than usual, you'll be able to hear me in Baltimore."

“If I was going to China, I’d still be able to hear you. You’re singing in my head all the time.”

He wrinkles his nose against her gentle pinching, tilting his face up to press a kiss into her palm. Truth be told, he knows he’s going to be spending his night away probably sulking in his great hotel room, alone and miserable, playing through all her favorite show tunes in his head.

“Hey. Do me a favor.” He starts to sit up and she protests a little, but he pats against her thigh with a promise that he’ll be back. He pushes up from the bed and rummages around in the pile on top of his suitcase before he finds one of his sleeping shirts.

“Spray this with that stuff you wear. You know, the really sweet stuff. Please?”

"... The sweet stuff?"

Fen's brow knits as she stares down at the shirt, hoping it supplies her with some sort of clarification.

"Sweet stuff... Oh!"

Her eyes snap up to his face but her brow doesn't unknit. In fact, her lips slant in a half-frown to match the confused expression of her eyes.

"You make fun of me for that perfume. You always say it's too sweet."

Still, she slowly grabs the shirt and holds it close like a child with a teddy bear, clinging to it as if he had given it to her as a reminder of him even though he's really asking for the opposite.

“Yeah, well. Maybe I️ like it a little bit.”

He goes to grab the sleeve of his shirt to pull it back playfully from her, but she’s got a firm enough grip that when he jerks, she slides a little further to the edge of the bed with it.

“I️ mean, you wear it all the time, I’m used to it. I’d rather have a smell that smells like you to take with me.”

It’s not like he’s going to get any sleep anyways, he’ll probably be up worrying. But this way he can at least be up worrying surrounded by a comforting smell.

“And don’t try to act pitiful. You have my whole room to pick and choose from. Just don’t steal anything for real and not tell me until I go looking for it thinking I’ve gone crazy and lost it.”

He winks at her, suddenly a bit taken by how easy it is to pick and her and joke with her. Before this, it wasn’t so easy to laugh or be lighthearted, even in lighter moments. Something about her presence just makes things feel like they aren’t as bleak as they probably are. Like there isn’t danger constantly creeping closer to their door. Either way, he’ll take the emotional reprieve for as long as he can get it. He hasn’t felt this much like himself in years.

“... about that...”

Fen shifts her eyes from him in an interesting mix of shame and playfulness. Shand probably didn’t mean that as an actual threat but she still feels the need to come clean to him after it.

Taking a quick look around to make sure no one is in the room with them, even though the door is firmly closed and locked, she then beckons him to step back closer to the bed. And he does so, though with some hesitance as he’s trying to read her strange behavior.

When he’s standing by the side of it, she pulls the top of her dress away from her body and reaches down into her bra, perfect enough for Shand to get a good view of her cleavage. Which. May or may not be intentional, she won’t confirm or deny that. After a few seconds of searching, she pulls out a small ornate glass bottle of expensive looking cologne, the flag of France printed at the top.

“I. May have already tried to take a keepsake.”

Letting go of her dress, it snaps back to her chest, giving her a both hands to offer the bottle up to him.

“I was only going to take it for the day, I promise.”