"We're going to miss our flight."

Cal sprawled backwards across Jasper's bed, for once bored and frustrated to be there. He had packed the night before. The necessary items: a collapsed brewing set, a few potions that might come in handy, his notes, his Glock (one never knew), and sundry other items of transfiguratory, potions-brewing, or other use. Several books and copies of journals, most of them Transfiguration theory, two of them Terry Pratchett, a few more assorted Huxley and Kierkegaard. Pleasure reading. Not that Jasper wouldn't be amply able to distract him, as he'd pointed out.

Cal usually forgot or didn't bother to pack clothing, but in this case he hadn't even needed to think of it. Jasper had insisted upon dressing him for his lecture. Cal had tried to tell him it was hardly important how he looked while speaking on the properties of his time-looping formula. It was work he'd begun with Carlisle; doubtless the man's name gave him credibility, though they'd also picked up one of his articles.

The Metropolitan Academy of Advanced Magic (or MAAM, much-joked-of) was an institution, despite its name, to be taken seriously. It would advance his career. He'd make more money.

And none of that could have swayed him in the least toward accepting the offer if Jasper hadn't coerced, or encouraged--no, coerced was the proper word--him to attend. After all, there was always the danger of running into his parents, of all people. Cal never lectured, least of all in America.

And he was under no illusions whatsoever: Jasper wanted to go because he could take a plane and because it was New York. Fashion capital of something or other, or something. Or other.

"Jasper. I'm quite serious." He propped himself up on his elbows and watched bemusedly as Jasper paced in front of his open closet. "They won't care how I look, and they certainly won't care how you look, and you'll buy new clothes in New York anyway--which is why we're going three days early--and about to miss the flight. You know there isn't an apparition point close to Heathrow." He sounded, he realized, positively belligerent, so, in lieu of further complaint, he shoved himself off the bed, slithered floorward, and decided to try wiles. "Come on, then." Cal wrapped his arms around Jasper's waist and comically pretended to drag him backward.

We're going to miss our flight.

Cal, as usual, failed to recognize the seriousness of the sartorial situation. He was lying somewhere on Jasper's bed, although he was blocked from view by a large suitcase and several teetering stacks of clothes. Jasper ignored him in favor of considering which of three windowpane check shirts was most appropriate for fall in New York. White on black? Black on grey? He decided on both, in interests of safety. Threw in an extra tie or seven (he'd long found that it was impossible to determine how many tie-related scenarios could arise while traveling). There. That was his bag(s)(six) packed. He turned to the half-full case he'd been packing for Cal, who had insisted on packing his own bag full of every useless thing he'd ever possessed. Perhaps he'd even bought more especially for the occasion. Jasper thought he'd glimpsed a bloody cauldron in the thing.

He, on the other hand, had mastered the art of packing the essentials. Cal would certainly need at least four suits; he couldn't choose one until he'd judged the fashion atmosphere of the conference, and seen the color scheme of the lecture hall. He'd tried to convince Jasper that scientists weren't fashionable and he could just wear his lab coat, but had recanted when Jasper had made a face of utter appalled shock for nearly an hour straight.

Now, navy waistcoat or contrasting--

Jasper. I'm quite serious. Cal appeared from behind a stack of polos. They won't care how I look, and they certainly won't care how you look, and you'll buy new clothes in New York anyway--which is why we're going three days early--and about to miss the flight. You know there isn't an apparition point close to Heathrow.

Jasper muttered something noncommittal and continued folding as Cal propelled himself off the bed rather rapidly. Suddenly his arms were tightly around Jasper from behind, tugging him away from the half-packed suitcase.

Come on, then.

Jasper turned in his grasp and grinned, leaning in for a kiss. He was secretly excited to leave, and didn't want to miss the flight either, because he'd never flown. Apparition across distances was challenging but possible alone, but Side-Along was out of the question. This had given him the excuse to fly that he'd wanted for a long time. Plus he loved New York and he hadn't been in ages.

"We'll make it in plenty of time, unless you don't intend on letting me go." He looked at Cal seriously. "Just let me pack your shoes and we'll leave, yeah? You can't very well speak to these Ma'am people in socks."

Cal would have done so, gladly. Actually he would gladly have avoided the entire event, but Jasper had found the invitation on his lab desk a few weeks ago and goaded him into accepting. The work he'd been doing was quite brilliant; he deserved the recognition. Plus Jasper thought a little weekend trip for the two of them could be fun.

"Plus we won't be late, I promise. We're taking the Aston to the airport. Do I need anything else? And are you sure you can take--" He paused and plucked something in a vial from Cal's bag-- "what appears to be liquid nitroglycerin on a plane?"

Jasper, typically, turned perfectly ordinary violence sexual, rearranging himself in Cal's embrace (suddenly it was an embrace) to kiss him. Fine, it had been playful if generally earnest violence, and not particularly violent as far as that went. The point, however, remained, the general principle...

"You're missing the point," he mumbled, at length, once his lips were usable.

"We'll make it in plenty of time, unless you don't intend on letting me go."

Oh, Jasper already gave him trouble for his perpetual seriousness. It was hardly worth responding with anything but a tighter embrace. Cal redoubled his grip on Jasper's waist.

"Well--I did bring my time turner, you know..."

"Just let me pack your shoes and we'll leave, yeah? You can't very well speak to these Ma'am people in socks."

"I shouldn't wear socks?" But Jasper had pulled back and given him such a level look. Deadpan and entirely unfair. "Fine. Fine." He backed away, palms raised and flat, then turned to pace anxiously, running his fingers through his hair. His thoughts were moving with bubbling speed. Was he nervous? Anxious about the conference? No, certainly not, he had lectured in graduate school; dispensing information didn't frighten him. Certainly flying didn't frighten him. A crash was hardly a problem with a Wizard nearby, and as for potential hijackings, he felt quite safe as long as he brought his own Glock and assorted useful chemicals board. Jasper would help him get through security.

It was probably--the faint but tangibly present possibility that he'd see his family in New York. His mother hadn't been on the list of speakers at the panel, but there were possibilities... and he was bringing Jasper, Jasper, who had all the subtlety of an avalanche.

It was what he'd wanted of course. He'd even said something, a few days ago--when they'd argued--that he was tired of secrecy or something. Oh, well, it wouldn't be his first or last hypocrisy, of the long and dazzling string of hypocrisies threaded on all of life's pleasures.

He paused and turned around in his pacing--Jasper had said something. And was going through his carefully-packed things.

"--won't be late, I promise. We're taking the Aston to the airport. Do I need anything else? And are you sure you can take--" He paused and plucked something in a vial from Cal's bag-- "what appears to be liquid nitroglycerin on a plane?"

"Hey!" Cal snatched the vial back and tucked it into its polyurethane pouch, shoving Jasper off with his free hand. "Don't touch that. Still--" He looked up briefly. "--credit where credit is due. Well-noted, it is nitroglycerin--I might need it. And there's an easy spell you can do on the security system, I'll show you on the way. As to the decision to drive, Jasper, it will take considerably longer if you insist on going through buildings again, rather than the more commonly-accepted 'around' notion everyone seems to be so attached to." He patted the foam back into place and, fending Jasper off, shut the suitcase with a definitive snap.

"You need nothing else--trust me. Come on." One hand darted out and grabbed hold of the end of Jasper's tie. "I'm driving--you're providing the distraction and--shrinking the bags--except mine, it's--volatile."

Cal, having snatched the vial out of Jasper's hand with preternatural speed, spoke as he tucked it back into his bag. Jasper kept a firm rule that anything that needed to be packed in foam so it wouldn't explode did not need to go on a weekend trip, but there was no telling Cal sometimes. He simply sighed and tuned his mind halfway onto his new hair wax from Lush as Cal tried to justify his travel techniques.

Well-noted, it is nitroglycerin--I might need it. And there's an easy spell you can do on the security system, I'll show you on the way. As to the decision to drive, Jasper, it will take considerably longer if you insist on going through buildings again...

Jasper sighed. "Just because Muggles don't understand my superior capacity for efficiency doesn't mean it's not a better plan. They also haven't got counterfeiting down as well as I have, which is why they're not all flying first class."

He offered Cal a pointed glance, which was summarily ignored. Scooping up Cal's shoes from the floor, he placed them on top of the folded clothes in his bag and, with considerable shuffling and crushing, managed to zip it shut. Cal looked on in impatience, as though he hadn't spent the better part of the morning selecting which size of Erlenmeyer flask would be most useful in the chemistry he was apparently anticipating. Jasper was about to comment on this when he was pulled forward by the end of his tie, an action which generally signified that he should shut up.

You need nothing else--trust me. Come on. I'm driving--you're providing the distraction and--shrinking the bags--except mine, it's--volatile.

Jasper put his hand over the one that Cal had wrapped around his tie. Closed the minute gap between them until their lips were millimeters apart.

"Would you rather I provide the distraction now or in the car? I think here would be better, since you nearly drove into that Sainsbury's the last time, but I'm always open to suggestions."


In spite of Cal's pessimism, they made it to the airport with plenty of time to spare, although the time turner might have come in handy. After a brief moment in the parking lot during which Jasper minimized all but one bag each to pocket size, they said a (nearly tearful, on Jasper's part) goodbye to the Aston Martin and made their way inside. Jasper couldn't understand why, as usual, Cal insisted on going the long way round when the planes were so obviously parked right there, but he supposed he should defer to Cal's judgement, this once. There were loads of things that he simply couldn't fathom about the Muggle world, starting with their fascination with Girls Aloud. He trailed behind Cal through the lobby, glancing down at his watch.

"I still don't see why you insisted we be here so early, all we have to do is get on the plane. If you allotted the extra time to convince them to let you take on the makings of a nuclear weapon, I don't think it's going to work out."

He was about to add that he also didn't think Cal had been at all right to criticize him for bringing three pairs of Chelsea boots when he happened to look to his left.

"There's a tiny Harrods here? Why didn't you tell me?" He snatched Cal's hand and pulled him to the side of the lobby, where there was in fact a small scale version of the place Jasper considered a second home. He caught a glimpse of something plaid. "It's the new Burberry print for the holidays, come on, just for a minute--"

Cal had the face on. The one he got when Jasper tried to convince him that Rag & Bone's new cropped pants would work out perfectly on him because his leg-length to body ratio was superb. He retreated from Harrod's sadly and let Cal lead on. He'd be back for that bloody scarf.

"Oh, by the way, I copied your passport thing last night, hope that's all right. I didn't have one, obviously." He slipped the Transfigured duplicate from his pocket and flipped it open. "I hope you like the alias."

Bond, of course. It had to match his license, after all.

Jasper knew shockingly little about Muggle culture. He had the overenthusiastic, rabidly eager desire to immerse himself in Muggle stuff most Pureblood Wizards shared now that such things were fashionable, but he seemed to have gotten his idea of Muggles out of a Martin Miggs comic or something. The thing Cal had tried several times to explain was this: Muggles had to take a lot of time with little things. They couldn't take the same shortcuts Jasper took.

Of course, to Jasper, life was a series of shortcuts, all of which only occasionally met up with the straight and narrow, then expeditiously diverged again.

Jasper... it would have been so easy to dismiss him as shallow, and he doubtless was, if only his way of life didn't work so well. Cal needed it, he'd found. He had taken to carrying it around with him, with the echo of Jasper's voice in his head.

Usually, that didn't sound quite so irritatingly childish. Jasper seemed to believe the airport was a large Muggle themepark constructed for his convenience, and didn't appear to grasp the fact that they would not, in fact, be let on the plane sight unseen, as though it were one of his clubs.

"There's a tiny Harrods here? Why didn't you tell me?"

Cal shook free of Jasper's grasp and righted his wheeled suitcase before it could bump along the floor and send the chimera liver over onto the arsenic. He'd put a cold-pack in with it, but that was just above the Glock, which might, slim chance, break the glass. You couldn't keep chimera liver long, and it had to be in glass. Plastics tended to bond with it, nature de la bête.

He opened his mouth to reply to Jasper, then stopped and shook his head. It was no use getting into it, really.

"You're a child, Christie."

He knew that look. It was the 'I've spotted a distraction' look. Generally, it had to do with hair styles or a new kind of pants. Might he have found himself as absorbed in fashion's ephemera as Jasper if he hadn't turned out... the way he had? It was a little sad--caring so much about something so--but wasn't everything?

You really are in a bad mood, Ferox. Going home. The words dropped into his brain as though placed there by some malicious God.

Jasper backed down at last, and Cal ushered him through to the line wending its way up to the security station, hovering by his shoulder, ready to mutter a reminder of the spell he'd have to do while Cal's bag went through the conveyer--a simple matter of microwave interference, nothing taxing. He ought to be able to do it silently, too.

"Oh, by the way," Jasper said, seemingly oblivious to the ill-advised place and time for the statement, "I copied your passport thing last night, hope that's all right. I didn't have one, obviously. I hope you like the alias."

Cal had assumed something of the sort, but he glanced at the passport anyway. "Lovely, but passports generally only have one picture inside. I know you like the tuxedo, but--" In his own (immobile) passport picture, his hair was standing wildly out from his head in all directions, and there was the trace of some suspicious powder on his upper lip. In preparation for the soporific flight, Cal hadn't taken anything for at least twelve hours. It was starting to feel like a bad idea.

The ruddy jacket-clad tourist behind them huffed out a breath of disapproval, and Cal shuffled forward with Jasper, crooking one elbow around the back of his neck and leaning over, in a pretense, for once, of public intimacy. "You remember the spell, right?"

Cal shuffled them into line impatiently, cutting off a family in hideous matching Hawaiian shirts with a vicious glare that he usually reserved for Everard. He'd been in a bad mood all morning, since he'd woken up and practically had a fit that there were only three poptarts left. (Jasper had thought it was remarkably benevolent that he hadn't thrown them all away when he'd found them hidden under a colander the night before.) His mouth twisted even more unhappily when Jasper showed him his passport, which he was rather proud of.

Lovely, but passports generally only have one picture inside. I know you like the tuxedo, but--

"Oh?" Jasper glanced down at the passport, where he was smiling back at himself and holding a martini. He waited a moment until the drink was out of sight, a moment more until he had shifted to the most flattering angle, then muttered the spell that froze pictures. Someone behind them sighed and Cal edged them forward again, slipping an arm around Jasper's neck.

You remember the spell, right?

Jasper tilted his head in, mirroring Cal's actions until they were quite close. The line was moving again, and he put a hand flat on the small of Cal's back as they walked, speaking quietly.

"Of course I do." The line forked in a moment where the bags were dropped off for scanning, and he shot Cal a grin, fingers closing on his jacket before they broke apart. "And cheer up, this is supposed to be fun, yeah?"

He followed Cal's lead, dropping his bag off behind the rather lumpy, chemical-filled one that he deposited. The bags were moving more slowly than their owners, and he would have to be fairly close to the machine if he was going to do the spell silently. He put a hand around Cal's wrist, speaking into his ear.

"Stall a bit, I need to be closer when your bag goes through."

He watched Cal empty his pockets with more precision than was strictly necessary and followed suit. The bags lurched forward promisingly. Then the unthinkable happened. Horrific. Apocalyptic, even.

Cal was taking his shoes off. Putting them on the belt to go through the scanner. Jasper looked down at his own feet, clad as usual in Chelsea boots. He hadn't been seen without Chelsea boots in-- well, actually it was probably since Chelsea boots had been invented. He suspected he had owned them in a previous life and was just continuing the tradition. His eyes jumped from shoes to Cal, back and forth once more in consternation.

"Cal-- my boots? Really? Do they need this?"

Cal stared at Jasper in amazement. Glance down at the heart-shaped picture of Pinkie Pie he'd found in his pocket. Over at the guard, who was giving him a rather skeptical look; he crumpled the thing, angrily, into a ball.

"Yes, Jasper. You really have to take off your shoes. While I'm not sure why anyone would deface a Chelsea boot with a bomb, they've got to check." He jerked his head forcibly toward the conveyer belt as he hit the last word. They'd really have a mess if they properly scanned his bag.

Cal suffered from residual guilt syndrome. Whenever he did something--anything--wrong, or not so wrong, or even not quite wrong at all, he found himself jittery, on edge, inclined to snap at authority figures or pace nervously. When he had done a lie detector trial at Cambridge, as part of a research project, he had been completely unable to quash the positive response his body had to everything from 'have you ever stolen anything?' to 'have you killed anyone?"--of course, false positives were so common these days he was far from an anomaly, and it might save him were he to...

Jasper wouldn't be that stupid. He wouldn't really get them tossed to airport security over his shoes, would he?

Then again, even Cal rarely saw his feet.


When at last, nerve-wrenchingly, they were past security, Cal found he was sweaty in that awful linoleum-scented way one got sweaty in airports. His clothing felt uncomfortably tight, and his hair was sicking to his forehead and the back of his neck. It took ages to board, and while they were sitting in the first-class lounge waiting for the announcement, Cal ducked out to do a line of doxy powder, take the edge off his nervous exhaustion. Airport dogs couldn't smell that.

Boarding was painless; he hadn't often traveled first-class, or at all, but it was lovely to be allowed on before anyone else. One of the last few ostentatious conveniences money could buy on popular transportation.

"This is a plane." He let Jasper take the window seat, at least in part because he couldn't stop his legs twitching, and wanted the aisle space. "Thank f-cking God. I hate Muggle travel." Cal shook his head, hitting himself sharply on the forehead with the flat of one palm, to clear his sinuses. "You were horrible. It's like trying to fly with a three-year-old."

Security was much more nerve wracking than Jasper had anticipated, not because there was any problem with the spell, which went off perfectly, but because he was forced to stand in public in socks for upwards of forty three seconds. He was so flustered by the experience that he'd nearly forgotten to Confund the customs agent when he showed his passport, resulting in an interesting few seconds of awkward staring and a sharp elbow to the ribs from Cal. Miraculously, they had reached the lounge and made it onto the plane, appropriately shod, with only a brief stop during which Cal disappeared into a convenient alcove and returned, sniffing a bit more than usual.

He'd hoped that detour would take the edge off, but Cal seemed positively furious as they settled into their seats. Jasper was pleasantly surprised; he'd expected to be crammed in like the Muggles in comedy movies, next to shrieking children and sneezy tourists. He spent a happy moment playing with the reclining options on his seat until he caught the acid glare Cal was giving him.

This is a plane.

"I'm a Wizard, Cal, not an agoraphobe. I've left the house before, I can generally identify large objects with rather stunning success."

Glare. Glare. He would have advised a few more lines, if Cal's hand hadn't been jittering a bit as he snapped it against his forehead. You were horrible. It's like trying to fly with a three-year-old.

"Just because I don't consider flying some sort of purgatory--" He realized it wasn't worth arguing, Cal would only become touchier. Instead he picked up Cal's hand, which was clutching the arm rest rather aggressively, running his fingers over the palm, cold and clammy from the doxy powder.

"Relax, yeah? Come on, why don't we get a drink, you'll feel loads better. How do we--"

He had once seen a movie in which Muggles pressed tiny buttons on the plane and a rather appallingly dressed young woman appeared bearing beverages. This in mind, he pressed several of said buttons, which made a rewarding ding! as he did so. Even better, the screen in front of his seat came to life. Genius. It informed him he would have a choice of "Snow Dogs 4" or "Seinfeld, Season 6, Episodes 9-12 for this flight. Unappealing. He shifted his wand subtly in his sleeve and tapped it against the glass. The screen turned blank, waiting as it did at home when he performed this spell.

"What d'you want to watch? How about that Colbert bloke, you love him." He was about to tap the screen again when a young woman in a blue uniform appeared and looked from them to the row of illuminated lights above their seats. Jasper realized he should have paid more attention to those Muggle movies, because he didn't really know what to say now. He tightened his fingers to get Cal's attention; until now he had been summarily ignoring Jasper and glaring purposefully into middle distance at the woman with a babbling child two rows away.

"Go on, then. Get a gin or something, it will do you good."

He hoped he was correct. Maybe this whole thing had been a mistake; he'd had to coerce Cal into coming on this bloody trip and now he was miserable. He'd thought the other man would enjoy a bit of recognition for his work, but they were so different sometimes. And then there was the matter of Cal's parents living so close-- if they met--

"Get a double, actually."

The flight attendant who came by was, understandably, somewhat surprised to find the television had begun its distinctive American-Eagle Stephen Colbert rerun opening sequence. Cal sighed and, extracting his hand from Jasper's, reached forward to click the monitor off, then did the same with the lights, squinting upward for a moment at the attendant.

"Sorry." He paused for a moment, wondering what to call Jasper. Call him 'Jasper' and he'd confuse the woman. Call him 'my friend' and he'd look like an idiot, given they'd been holding hands. Social situations were so difficult. He settled for a noncommittal pronoun. "He's never flown before. I know it's generally airline policy not to give out drinks before takeoff--" He batted Jasper's hand away, truly hoping he hadn't been about to offer a bribe. "--But we'll definitely ask later. We'd like some earphones, now, though, thanks." Cal attempted something like a smile, but it came out sickly, a little forced, his molars gritted.

"Anything else?" The attendant seemed use to passengers more troublesome than Jasper. "At least you aren't frightened, that's half the battle on a first plane trip. Enjoy your flight." Smile, smile, depart. She came back shortly with headphones.

Only then did Cal let himself relax into annoyed rigidity. He leaned away from Jasper and looked down at the earphones, fiddling for rather too long to fit them to his head and taking deep, calming breaths. It was one of those moments--he didn't want to be touched.

"A double. Good one, Mr. Bond." He shoved his seat back and collapsed against it, rolling his head sideways toward Jasper.

"I shouldn't combine doxy powder with alcohol anyway," he added, a little acidly. "Remember your birthday?"

I shouldn't combine doxy powder with alcohol anyway. Remember your birthday?

Jasper reclined his own seat so his eyes were in line with Cal's, grinning as he replied. Cal pressed his lips together rather too hard, until they paled as he shuffled further down in his seat. His shoulders were hunched up in that way they got when he was particularly annoyed, wrinkling the sleeves of his jacket. The headphones they had recently acquired covered his ears, but Jasper knew he was just using them to deflect.

"Actually you just shouldn't combine doxy powder with the alcohol at my birthday party. The flirtinis in particular. There was a reason you only saw me drinking champagne."

Restless already, Jasper patted his pockets until he found his cigarettes. Contemplated them a moment then tucked them away, sighing. "Suppose we can't smoke either?"

Cal responded with further displeasure, so he turned to look out the window. As stunning as the view of Heathrow's parking lot was, it failed to hold his attention for long. He returned to staring at the seat in front of him and noticed a magazine called SkyMall jammed into the pocket. Well, it had the word "mall" in it. That was always promising. He plucked it out and thumbed through. Watches, God knew he had enough of those. Overpriced espresso makers, no. Globe that flipped open to become a minibar, that just looked rubbish. An entire page of Toblerone products. Jasper realized this was entirely hopeless and crammed the catalogue back into the pocket in front of him, pulling out the other pamphlet that had been tucked behind it.

At the same moment, the woman who had tragically failed to provide them with drinks appeared at the head of the cabin, holding up the same pamphlet. Jasper flipped it open to find poorly drawn cartoons of people who were calmly preparing for death by plane crash. The flight attendant babbled on about how they could apparently use bits of their seat to float in the ocean in the event of a catastrophe. Jasper was fairly convinced that if they actually crashed, he would have more concerns than how to use his headrest as a flotation device. He turned to Cal.

"In the event of an emergency, I'm trampling you to get to the exit first, just so you know."

As he spoke the flight attendant disappeared through a doorway and the plane jolted forward, picking up more speed than Jasper had expected. He watched Heathrow disappear from his window, relishing the brief moment when the plane left the ground and the pressure changed. That singularity, the moment of uncertainty when you took flight, was really the only thing he liked about flying on brooms. Planes magnified it a bit, which he thought was rather excellent. Cal seemed unimpressed, so he turned and tugged the headphones off his ears as the plane leveled.

"What if I got one of these? Might be a bit brilliant." Stone faced response. He reached a hand up subtly and touched Cal's ear and jaw with the tips of his fingers. "Smile, c'mon." He pushed the button that had brought the flight attendant last time. "At least we can have a drink now, yeah?"

Cal slid down in his seat. He couldn't wait for takeoff; it was one of the most infuriating things, waiting for takeoff, just wasting one's time so absolutely. Jasper was having the time of his life, of course.

No--no, on second thought he wasn't. Cal slid down, jacket bunching uncomfortably under his arms. At some point he would have to talk to Jasper about the concept of comfort while traveling. Jasper looked almost as bored and miserable as he was, and ordinarily, he would've tried something to remedy the situation. But he felt a little plane-sick already, and his sinuses ached, and he was all out of sorts, so he only tipped his head back and stared up into the light, blinking, sniffling a little.

"...The flirtinis in particular. There was a reason you only saw me drinking champagne."

"Hidden aggression toward Sinistra? Can't say I disapprove, Christie." Cal rolled his head sideways and gave Jasper a half-smile. "And no, no smoking." He pointed to the lit sign.

He attempted relaxation while Jasper absorbed himself, with obvious displeasure, in the in-flight magazine. Honestly, it was worth his own boredom to watch what he made of the sundries inside. And oh. Lovely. Their emergency instructions.

"In the event of an emergency, I'm trampling you to get to the exit first, just so you know."

"Jasper, you could just cast a shield. You're only traveling Muggle, not gone native." Cal shut his eyes and tipped his head back. Takeoff had always made him a bit nauseated, unpleasant; something inside his nose had begun to hurt, too. Just a mass of complaints today, wasn't he? It was this trip, it was the worst idea he'd ever let Jasper talk him into. The worst--which, considering, said quite a lot.

He was babbling on about getting a plane--good, well, at least he was excited, this trip was for him anyway, which was the point, wasn't it? Things tended to be for Jasper. No, stop, Cal, you are being... you are being Callous. Ha.

"Smile, c'mon."

He did, at length, turning at Jasper's light touch, and flung his free leg over Jasper's, moving forward until he could feel the only slightly plane-scented humidity of Jasper's breath against his lips. Kissed him, one hand coming up to his lapel, as usual--a habit of which Jas would never break him, it was too convenient.

"At least we can have a drink now, yeah?"

"What? Oh--" Cal drew back quickly. Flight attendant? Yes. Embarrassment? Also--rather yes.

Cal finally allowed himself a smile, the crease between his eyebrows softening. Then his mood swayed rather aggressively in the opposite direction, his fingers curling around the perfectly pressed fabric of Jasper's jacket as he leaned in for a kiss. Taken by surprise at the sudden change, Jasper still had his eyes half open and saw the flight attendant arrive beside Cal's seat. It took the other man a moment to sense the new presence, at which point he disentangled their legs with some rather ungraceful flailing. There was an awkward downbeat during which the flight attendant looked at the two of them, her face an odd mix of bemusement and discomfort before she collected herself and put on the slightly disingenuous smile that seemed to be her default.

"What can I get you, sir?"

Jasper smiled back, his more real. "Those drinks now, I think. Double gin--" he nodded his head toward Cal-- "and a martini for me, I think."

He watched Cal's cheeks flare red as she retreated down the aisle.

"That was entirely your doing, you know. And you told me I needed to behave on the flight."

He was about to add something more, but the flight attendant had reappeared with their drinks with rather stunning speed. Jasper accepted his and took an exploratory sip; not bad, nowhere near as good as the ones he favored at Boujis but it would suffice.

"Cheers." The woman was about to turn away when he spoke again, putting on a face of false chagrin, "Sorry about--we're not usually so inappropriate."

Something in Jasper had always urged him to test the limits of things, to say the thing that would provoke some kind of response. Perhaps it was why he'd taken to crime so well; he had the natural propensity to push on the edges of what was acceptable. The desire was irresistible sometimes; he'd been the one in class who couldn't resist whispering a snide comment to his friends under his breath, especially if he knew the professor might hear. Most people grew out of the impulse, but he never had, which explained his complete inability to not continue.

"We're on our honeymoon." He slipped his hand into Cal's, fingers brushing over his palm then settling in with Cal's cold ones, and curved his lips into a smile. "You understand."

Cal hadn't noticed it when Jasper had pushed the button; nor was he used to the fast service of First Class. It took some rather extravagant thrashing to fight free of Jasper, at which point he dared a glance up at the flight attendant and then sunk in his seat, half-covering his face with one hand. He knew was turning crustacean-carmine. It always happened. Jasper seemed to take great delight in making him blush, as though half the things on the planet didn't.

"That was entirely your doing, you know. And you told me I needed to behave on the flight."

"I was trying to be--" Cal began, muttering through his splayed fingers, then stopped; she was back again. With drinks, that was the high point. If only he were better at pretending people in the service industry weren't people.

He had to uncurl to accept his drink, trying not to make eye contact, then settled back in his seat, cradling it between palm and opposite hand. He had to brace both against his chest; his fingers were shaking.

Oh, well, at least it was over n--

"Sorry about--we're not usually so inappropriate."

Yes, we are. Jasper was gearing up for something diabolical. Cal knew it. If he invited the flight attendant for a threesome, Cal was going to cut his throat with a bit of broken martini-glass. No, it was plastic, wasn't it? He could still get it to break right if he chose the proper stress point.

"We're on our honeymoon."

What the f-ck? Cal knew his mouth had dropped ungracefully open, and he covered the enormous awkwardness of the moment with a choking slug of gin, fingers tightening painfully around Jasper's before he pulled free.

"Congratulations." The smile seemed at once more genuine--at least they were a respectable, if overly affectionate, James-Bond-like gay couple, her reasoning seemed to run--and slightly more doubtful, possibly because Cal had just snorted gin out of his nose. He waved off her offer of an extra napkin with watering eyes. "'m OK, just-- still not--used to--it--" His voice caught somewhere between chagrin and rage.

When she was gone Cal took the time to finish his gin in one long swig, then forewent his tray table and tucked the glass into the seat pocket. He took several long breaths, trying to cool his face, and wiped his nose and mouth with his napkin before turning to Jasper.

"Why?"

Cal, rather gratifyingly, attempted to aspirate his entire drink when Jasper spoke. The flight attendant looked on in concern, fumbling for a napkin and, as far as Jasper could tell, thinking of the proper medical procedure to deal with "passenger fails at drinking." He had to give her credit for being remarkably nonplussed about the entire situation. She even offered a smile, which Jasper found rather sweet and thoughtful, considering they had gone from PDA to near death experience in about three seconds.

Congratulations. She switched from smile back to concern as Cal suffered a final bout of coughing when he managed the impressive feat of sneezing gin. Jasper was surprised, considering his propensities, that he wasn't better equipped to deal with foreign substances in his nose. Eyes blearily red, he waved away her offered napkin.

'm OK, just-- still not--used to--it--

Jasper put a reassuring hand on Cal's arm. In a final gesture that was somewhere between "brilliant" and "inhumanly cruel," he shot her a cheeky grin as she turned to leave. "He'll be fine. Maybe just a bit too much anticipation for tonight."

There was a long pause during which Cal appeared to be assembling some kind of tirade, which Jasper steeled himself for. His cheeks slowly drained of their red flush as he finished the fraction of the drink that he hadn't inhaled, then tested out his remaining lung capacity with a few (calming? preparatory for homicide?) breaths.

Why?

That was better than Jasper had expected. It hadn't included any expletives, death threats, or promises to destroy every article of clothing he owned. Maybe Cal was developing-- a sense of humor about this sort of thing? Jasper had a hard time believing it, but just maybe-- well, actually his face was still rigidly furious. He judiciously removed his hand before speaking, preempting easy access to appendages for injury.

"Thought maybe we could get some champagne, you know? Although your record with drinks today isn't looking so good, I'm afraid. Plus I felt we owed her some explanation for the fact that you were halfway through crawling into my lap. And I needed something to entertain me for the next--" he glanced at his watch-- "six and a half hours of this flight while you watch that Colbert bloke."

He leaned back, letting his head loll against the seat. "Feel free to offer other suggestions for amusement, if you've got something better."

"Maybe I'll crawl all the way into your lap."

Cal turned his head and smiled around the pain building in his sinuses. He knew Jasper wouldn't expect the swift return to good cheer and innuendo. He gave a final sniffle and pressed the napkin to his nose, then set it aside and slowly reached down to unbuckle his seatbelt. With great deliberation and not without one eye to the aisle to watch for flight attendants--thank God for first class--he slid up the armrest between them and swung one leg over until he was straddling Jasper. Slowly, carefully, he leaned forward, hands on Jasper's tie and lips to his ear.

"And then I'll f-cking strangle you." His hands tightened only briefly on the tie; he couldn't hold the pose.

Instead, he leaned forward to bite at Jasper's earlobe, the moved his lips along his jaw, down to his neck. It was, he reflected, a better way to pass the time than Colbert, really, at the end of it. When he drew back from a long kiss, however, he noticed his nose had begun to bleed.

"Sh-t. Or," he revised, blotting it hastily on his sleeve. "Bleed od you. Shid. I'b sorry."

Still straddling Jasper, he groped in his pocket for a bit of tissue, then gave up and slid back into his seat.

"Id's the altitude. And, you know, regular drug use." Painful snort. "Bust have--must have a deviated septum. Agaid. Again. There's a spell, it won't take a bo."

Maybe I'll crawl all the way into your lap.

Oh. As Cal proceeded to do just that, Jasper's eyebrows arched up his forehead. He had expected more...rage? Violence? Bloodshed? But instead he got Cal leaning down toward his ear, lips against his neck then brushing upward for a kiss. He felt the pressure of his tie tightening around his neck and his hand curled against his wand inside his sleeve. He could Confund the people around them for a little while--

And then I'll f-cking strangle you.

There was the Cal he'd been anticipating. He prepared for retaliation but got only further pressure on his tie, the knot tightening up against his collar. Cal ducked forward for a kiss and he prepared to mutter the words of the spell when they broke apart. But that was forgotten when Cal reeled back awkwardly, his hand covering his face.

Sh-t. Or," he revised, blotting it hastily on his sleeve. "Bleed od you. Shid. I'b sorry.

Jasper leaned back as far as he could, deeply concerned for his suit as Cal searched unsuccessfully for a tissue, the first drops of shockingly bright blood seeping through his fingers. It was a relief (sartorially) when he slumped back into his own seat, hands still covering his face. Had he gotten blood on Jasper's new YSL, he would have found himself testing out some of the exit strategies that had been suggested during their emergency briefing. Jasper patted down his own pockets and found nothing useful except his pocket square, which was Pucci and one of his favorites. He pulled it free with a certain amount of wistful sadness and offered it to Cal, who looked rather miserable.

"You owe me a new one when we get to New York."

Id's the altitude. And, you know, regular drug use." Painful snort. "Bust have--must have a deviated septum. Agaid. Again. There's a spell, it won't take a bo.

"Again?" Jasper looked him over in some concern, noting the even more unhealthy pallor his skin had taken on. "I know it's right hypocritical of me to say this, but you might think of cutting back, yeah?"

He shuffled his wand out of his sleeve just enough and turned Cal's face toward his with his fingers. "I know it already, Merlin knows I spent enough time around Winehouse." He rested the tip of the wand against Cal's nose and said the spell softly. Picked the pocket square from his fingers and dabbed away the extra blood with a dry corner. "There you go. Clearly you just need to relax, let me--"

He mirrored Cal's earlier action and swung a leg across the seat, straddling him. Leaned down and spoke softly. "I can Confund the entire first class section for about twenty minutes, if you don't distract me too much."

"Cutting back." Cal raise one eyebrow. "You wouldn't like me very much without it. I don't like myself much without it." A little too close to the truth for humor, but he was in no mood to calibrate that. And anyway he was still vibrating happily, too happily to remember not to be miserable, in the aftermath of their close contact. It as astounding how kissing Jasper affected him, really disproportionate to the phenomenon. He'd have thought, after all this time, that there might have been some shift or settling, but no, it was still electrically galvanizing to touch Jasper, and to realize that he could, that it was, after a fashion, permitted.

Jasper performed the proper spell and dabbed at his nose--a faintly infantilizing gesture, as was, he realized with an odd kind of detachment, often the case. Obviously the alcohol and doxy powder were working. The world felt loosely connected at the seams, drifting, unimportant. Now that he wasn't in pain any longer, he was beginning to feel quite content, after a fashion. The undercurrents of nervous tension were still there, but only as a pleasing counterpoint.

"Clearly you just need to relax, let me--"

Oh. Jasper was on top of him. Cal's seat in the aisle meant the gesture was rather more conspicuous on the other man's part. He could see an older gentleman looking at them askance, and a woman who seemed to be covering her child's eyes, but for some reason it all seemed to matter less than usual. He slid his hands up Jasper's back slowly, still blinking in mild bemusement out at the rest of the plane.

No, this was a bad idea.

"I can Confund the entire first class section for about twenty minutes, if you don't distract me too much."

"Defeats the purpose, doesn't it?" Cal muttered, his lips centimeters from Jas's. "No, look--no, it's too dangerous. C'mon." He made an inarticulate sound of exertion and managed to twist them sideways; they landed in a tangle, sprawled toward the window rather than the aisle. "Ugh... c'n we just... stay like this?" Well, like this once he worked out whose legs belonged to whom. "I know it's hideously cute and puppyish, but we are married, after all." Not a little rancor in that last. He ran a hand, once he had extricated it from between Jasper's back and the seat, over Jas's hair. "Anyway, you probably just want to join the--"

Wait, he might not know what that was. "--never mind."

"Defeats the purpose, doesn't it?"

Jasper had to agree. He let Cal twist them awkwardly sideways, landing halfway across the seats. With a bit of shifting it wasn't entirely uncomfortable, even though he got a vaguely stabby sensation from the seatbelt buckle crushed against his spine. He dislodged the thing then settled back against the window, which he quickly decided wasn't going to cut it as a headrest for the next six hours. After a brief scan of available objects, he Transfigured the ever-useful pocket square into a pillow and stuffed it behind his head. It had come out mercifully blood free, although he hadn't quite managed to eradicate the pattern. Hopefully the flight attendant wouldn't notice that the plane had started employing high end interior design.

"Ugh... c'n we just... stay like this? I know it's hideously cute and puppyish, but we are married, after all."

Cal's voice twisted ironically at the end, although it was slightly muffled because his cheek was resting against Jasper's shoulder. He reached up and carded his fingers through Jasper's hair, and he shut his eyes briefly then laced their fingers together and studied them.

"I'm a terrible husband. Jeweler and I couldn't even be bothered to get you a ring. I'm perfectly all right with being cute though, if this qualifies."

"...you probably just want to join the--" There was a pause which Jasper could classify as nothing but suspicious. "--never mind."

Join? Was there some sort of secret plane society? If you belonged could you get drinks before takeoff? If so, why was Cal holding out such essential information? Jasper looked down at him. "The what?"

Cal shut his eyes stubbornly. "Come on then, Ferox, what?"

He prodded him in the shoulder, but it soon became apparent that Cal had actually gone to sleep, his face turned in against the lapel of Jasper's jacket. The hum of the engines lulled Jasper toward a nap as well, and he closed his eyes. They would be busy in New York, and it wasn't as though he'd gotten a lot of sleep the night before (one of the few downsides to Cal's frequent presence in his home). Just before he drifted off, he opened one eye a bit and charmed Cal motionless. If he insisted on bloody sleeping and keeping secrets, he at least wasn't going to flail.


We are now beginning our descent into New York. Please note that the captain has switched the Fasten Seatbelts sign to on. Please remain in your seats until the plane has finished taxi--

Jasper woke to monotone instructions coming from the intercom, and shook Cal gently by the shoulder. He turned his head, shoving the pillow out of the way, and caught a glimpse of the city as the plane turned downward. Leaned down slightly and brushed a hand over Cal's jaw, speaking into his ear.

"Cal, wake up, we're here." Cal opened his eyes blearily. "What were you going to tell me before you went to sleep? About joining something?"

Cal's dreams bobbed in an out of focus, or slid past with the vague, hallucinatory quality of cloud-banks. Their content was rarely decipherable. It was the feeling he recalled, the sense of disjoint or loss or happiness so extreme it was painful, somehow disconnecting him from himself. This time he felt himself amongst a trailing series of sour, stomach-jerking scenes, and woke up intermittently, to focus, fuzzily, on the smell of Jasper's clothing or breath or the press of his body against Cal's arm, which at one point got trapped between Jas's back and the seat.

He had just settled into a long, blank period of thrumming darkness, somewhere between sleep and wakefulness (he could hear the noise of planegoers behind him, hear the hum of ventilation and the rush of wind, but it all tended to slip away into white noise) when he jerked awake.

"--up, we're here."

"What? Wha--" He wiped his lips and blinked, then shuffled upright in his seat, reaching for the seatbelt. It took a few fumbling tries to get it. His head ached. He'd never mix drugs and alcohol again, at least until they had settled into the hotel. "Oh, ugh..." He stretched, elbows digging back into the seat, tautness twanging through shoulders and neck before he relaxed into a slump once again.

"What were you going to tell me before you went to sleep? About joining something?"

"Hm?" Cal squinted, still inarticulate with sleep, ears popping as the plane tilted down to a new level. "Oh. Ha. Joining. The mile-high club." His voice was a touch loud, and he glanced toward the aisle; the mother, young child in her lap, stared back. He tried an apologetic look, but his face still wasn't obeying him, and his eyes felt blank and grainy with sleep. He turned back to Jasper, lowering his voice. "Sort of a Muggle tradition, people who have sex in plane bathrooms. I didn't want to tell you, but too late now for it anyway." He smothered another yawn against his shoulder. "We're landing. Thank God."


Landing itself went smoothly, and so did extrication from the plane. They got their share of annoyed looks from the other passengers, of course. The flight attendant congratulated them again, but, sadly, could apparently give no discount on the drinks. Instead it seemed she'd told the pilot, because there was a congratulations sent out over the intercom to the 'newly married couple' on the flight. Wonderful. At least no one would think it was them (apart from those seated nearby); Cal spent their disembarking practicing his most sinister glares. It did get them out quickly.

They'd take a taxi to the hotel, of course. But when Cal and Jasper emerged into the terminal exit, Cal thought his heart was going to stop.

Leo?

Of course it was possible he might've known Cal would be coming--he'd reserved the airplane tickets in his name, and he was on the lecture schedule too--but Leo? Why? His dad perhaps--

"Cally!" His brother waved one hand in a short salute, then ducked around the waiting crowd and jogged toward them. Cal jumped apart from Jasper as though he'd been electrocuted (they had been nearly holding hands).

"What are you doing here, Leo?" Cal's mouth twisted downward in extreme disapproval.

"What, no hug?" Leo's smile dropped, and he looked at Cal more levelly. He had grown up, filled out, cultivated a short beard, gotten taller. Years and years. "C'mon, big bro, you never call, you never write--you never owl, and mom and dad gave you that owl. Not that I'm saying you need to see them, but you haven't even met Melissa yet, and that's--but don't worry, I just thought--Mom and Dad aren't coming, we thought you wouldn't want--you don't have to, but we do miss ya. Hey, who's this?" He switched his gaze Jasperward, and held out one hand. "Leo Ferox."

Oh, no. Cal felt his mouth twitch uncomfortably.

Cal blinked at him, eyes barely open. "Oh. Ha. Joining. The mile-high club. Sort of a Muggle tradition, people who have sex in plane bathrooms. I didn't want to tell you, but too late now for it anyway. We're landing. Thank God."

Jasper raised an eyebrow as the seatbelt sign blinked off and the shuffle of disembarking began. Muggles, cleverer than he'd thought. He leaned in, lips against Cal's ear in the last moment before they stood.

"If you didn't want me to insist that we join, perhaps you would have been wiser to tell me about the club after our return flight."

He pressed a kiss briefly against Cal's neck and stood, stretching as Cal bandied about some glares with the other passengers. This pastime seemed to occupy him until they'd left the plane and were on their way out from the airport. There had been many escalators (a particular favorite of Jasper's whenever he ventured into Muggle locales, he couldn't explain why), as well as a sort of moving sidewalk-thing along the way, which Jasper secretly found excellent. Sometimes he was convinced that Muggles had loads more fun. They had nearly reached the doors when Cal's face changed to the sort of appalled look that he usually reserved for when Jasper suggested they go spend an evening grooming Pinkie Pie.

"Cally!"

Cally? Cally?

Jasper looked around and spotted a man in the crowded lobby waving. As he approached he could spot an odd resemblance to Cal, something similar in the eyes and around the corners of the mouth. Taller, more athletic, tanner. Cal imagined as the sort of robustly American stereotype that appeared on film. He noticed that Cal was edging away self consciously, and tucked the hand that had been outstretched toward Cal's into his pocket.

"What are you doing here, Leo?" Cal had reestablished his glare.

"What, no hug? C'mon, big bro, you never call, you never write--you never owl[...]I just thought--Mom and Dad aren't coming, we thought you wouldn't want--you don't have to, but we do miss ya. Hey, who's this?"

Jasper had been judiciously looking into middle distance, trying not to listen in too intently to family gossip. He knew Cal's relationship with his parents was strained, at the very best. The way he felt about Leo was less clear, although there sometimes seemed to be a hint of fondness when he spoke about his brother. Jasper had been prepared to dislike him; Cal had characterized him as the sort of jock that he had never especially admired at Hogwarts, and it didn't seem that there had been a lot of love lost between them as children. But he seemed pleasant enough now, with his open smile and extravagant gestures. Plus he'd let on that Cal had once been nicknamed Cally, which was utterly priceless. He owed the bloke.

"Leo Ferox."

Jasper smiled and shook the offered hand firmly. "Jasper Christie, I'm a friend of Cal's. Well, obviously. You must be his brother. Nice to meet you. Cally--" he paused, indulging in an ironic smile-- "has told me about you."

Under normal circumstances, he would have feared for his safety after that, but he doubted that Cal would touch him in Leo's presence.

"Oh yeah?" Leo pumped Jasper's hand up and down, seeming quite pleased to meet him.

Well, of course, Cal thought. Jasper was the sort of respectable guy (it was always 'guys', with Leo) Leo automatically got on with. He got on, that is, with the sort of person who was already supremely self-confident. He didn't waste his time on the doubtful. It was very American and very not Cal, though he had inherited a more poisonous sort of judgmentality from their father. All judgmental Feroxes... but he couldn't imagine Jasper coming up short in anyone's esteem.

"So." Back to Cal. Cal smiled tightly, then softened. Just a little. He reached out for Leo's hand, but his brother tugged him forward into a hug.

"Careful!" He shoved back and grabbed for his suitcase before it could topple over. Later, he would kill Jasper for the Cally comment. Possibly he would also do something awful to Leo. "Yeah, Jasper's also tops at Transfiguration; he does a lot of work for me. I thought he would find the conference interesting. Er..." Changing the subject before his lies could accumulate into a blush. "Melissa? How old is she now?"

Leo glanced at Jasper. "Melissa's my daughter. Eight months. She's great, man. Like you, smart as Hell. Here--hang on--" He cracked a smile. "I know, I know, I'm one of those dudes, with the pictures, but--" He tugged it out and showed it briefly to Jas, then handed it to Cal. "Yeah."

It was so strange. His little brother, married, with a kid. She was... some sort of pinkish infant, wrinkling her nose. She had the Ferox eyes, of course. He handed the picture back when someone jostled him.

"Listen, I have a car out front." Leo seemed to register Cal's surprise. "I know, Dad thinks I'm crazy, but of course I've got to have all the Muggle stuff, I've always liked it." Again, to Jasper, in explanation. "My wife's Muggleborn, and New York's really strict about Secrecy, so I keep a car here. I head up the New York branch now, you know, I think I was making Dad nuts in Mass., he can't take too much of me." He grinned at Cal, then Jasper. "Come on. I don't know if you've ever been to New York before, Jasper, but I love it here, the Muggle culture's fantastic and Niffler Stadium is awesome, we go to every game..."

Cal didn't want to follow, but he did. It was hard to stay angry at Leo, whose bursts of impatience as a kid seemed to have worn off into the smooth friendliness he had always, in some fashion, possessed.

He followed Leo to his car, a brand-new BMW, and was unsurprised to find it larger inside than out; he tucked his bag carefully in the second row of seats, then, when it seemed Jasper was not keen on what his brother always called 'shotgun', took the passenger's seat next to Leo instead.

"... so who's your team?" Leo twisted, looking back at Jasper. "This one never was into the game, but come on."

Cal was quite aware his own silence stymied Leo a little; he was reaching for conversation topics, still being his friendly self. But he couldn't think of a thing to say, except to answer Leo when he asked where they were headed (the Plaza, because Jasper had read that the Presidential Suite--prohibitively expensive for Cal--came with a butler). He glanced back anxiously at their friend as the car pulled out, then resettled in his seat.

Jasper wondered if Leo and Cal had actually been raised in the same house; he'd never known two siblings who were so different, and he knew the Sinistras. Where Cal barely suffered the presence of anyone, Leo was practically bursting with happiness at meeting some random friend of his brother. He was currently brandishing a picture of some indiscriminate child at them gleefully. He liked children as well? It was entirely impossible that he and Cal were related.

"She's--nice."

Jasper never really knew what to say about children. The adjectives that actually occurred to him (pink, round, existing) never seemed to be appropriate when he caught a glimpse of a parent's excited face. So he chose the word that he usually employed to compliment, say, a person's new watch or painting. Leo seemed satisfied; he had probably filled in another phrase in that delusional way that parents had. "The most beautiful and exceptional child who has ever existed," or something. He babbled onward, leading them toward the doors.

"Listen, I have a car out front. I know, Dad thinks I'm crazy, but of course I've got to have all the Muggle stuff, I've always liked it"[...]He grinned at Cal, then Jasper. "Come on. I don't know if you've ever been to New York before, Jasper, but I love it here, the Muggle culture's fantastic and Niffler Stadium is awesome, we go to every game..."

Niffler Stadium? Jasper nodded vaguely, distracted by the brief shuffle as he forced Cal to take the front seat. He had no idea what Leo was talking about. There was something he and his brother had in common. He settled into the back seat and glanced around the car approvingly. It wasn't his beloved Aston, but he had to admit that it was nice.

"M series, I like it. I looked at them when I was car shopping, but I got an Aston Martin in the end. Cal says I'm, quote "The worst driver who has ever owned a car, and possibly a homicidal maniac," but I think he exaggerates."

"... so who's your team?" Leo twisted, looking back at Jasper. "This one never was into the game, but come on."

Oh God. Jasper had a sinking suspicion that he was talking about sports. When people talked about sports, Jasper could slowly feel his mind congealing. It was sort of like Cal when he talked about equations, but worse, in some strange way, because he was expected to have some sort of allegiance and offer things into the conversation. At least Cal didn't make him choose and defend his favorite variable.

"My team, er-- I'm afraid I don't really follow--" Quidditch? Probably, but he wasn't sure. "So busy with the shop and everything, can't keep up, you understand." He tried to think of something else to bring up that might turn Leo away from sports. "I do love New York though; I haven't been in years. Muggle fashion here is ace, that's why I really came. Cal flatters himself that his work fascinates me, but most of the time I don't know what he's on about."

He glanced out the window, restless to be sitting again after the long flight. For some reason he felt like he should make a good impression on Leo. He seemed to be the family member that Cal disliked the least; they should at least try to get on.

"Cal and I haven't got anything special on tonight, how about a few drinks? I'd like to know if the martinis are better here or in London."

Actually he just wanted to see if Leo was going to let anything else as funny as "Cally" slip. It was important to him; he was willing to put off seeing the butler to find out.

"I'm buying."

He always was, actually.

Leo demurred, pointing out with some regret that he had to be home for dinner, but he'd be back after Melissa's bedtime, at nine o'clock. Thank Merlin. He dropped them off at the Plaza and punched Cal in the arm in what passed for brotherly affection. Cal still couldn't decide what to think. When younger, Leo had been decidedly different. Somewhat brooding, given to insults, particularly vicious toward their father. It seemed they still didn't get on, which puzzled him; he hadn't particularly thought of it, didn't presume to understand the interconnections within his family. Or amongst any group of people, really. It had always singularly baffled him.

But maybe something had changed. If Leo thought it odd that he and Jasper were sharing the Presidential Suite, he didn't show it, though he did express a kind of masculine approval that Jasper had the temerity to shell out so much money for a room. Cal knew that beneath it lurked disapproval at the waste, but Leo was trying to be polite. Maybe he even liked Jasper sincerely. Leo was such a hard person to read. He really meant most of how he was but then there was his overwhelming, intimidating tact, which lay athwart the conversation, burdensome and confusing.

To be fair, the Presidential Suite was incredible.

Cal, as usual (he found even House Elves intimidating) felt too awkward to speak to the butler, but Jasper seemed eager to make his acquaintance. Cal busied himself unpacking his bag in the kitchenette. The Glock he concealed in the bedside trestle table drawer. The chimera livers went in the refrigerator, beside the welcoming platter of what appeared to be caviar and something unidentifiable, possibly a kind of cracker. He wondered if they had pop-tarts.

When at last Jasper seemed to tire of chatting with the butler, trying to convince him to move to England and work in his shop, etc., and the man had gone away, Cal collapsed on the bed in the bedroom they had chosen, sprawled spread-eagle across the coverlet. It smelled of cool, expensive cleanliness and complex perfume. The walls were made of silk. It was rather like an upscale madhouse, a prismatic, luxurious, uxurious escape.

"If you ever call me Cally again..." But the threat was half-hearted. He didn't particularly want to think about his brother. He wanted to suggest that they use the hot tub set into the floor before Leo came over, or, better yet, to call off the invite altogether. But if he was coming over they shouldn't make a mess of the place, particularly not a suggestive mess, and though it was only late afternoon, he didn't want to chance it.

Then again, what did it matter if his brother knew? Who cared? F-ck him, honestly. It was all so surreal, the plane ride, the ridiculous public affection, the new place, and Leo--Cal no longer had any idea what was real. Shuffling about in his pocket he pulled out the bent corner of a cereal box and the remains of a bag of doxy powder, stared at it, and then leaned over to put it in the drawer of the night-table. That he didn't want Leo to see, the man didn't even drink to excess as far as he knew; he never had. Whereas Cal had once, for the span of a month, been unable to sleep without his Glock clenched in one hand, safety off, pointed toward his chin.

"So that's my brother." Cal sat up on the bed kicked off his shoes, then got rid of the jacket, tie, belt and shirt. "And for the record, suits are not proper traveling attire, I don't care how good I ostensibly looked."

Leo, unexpectedly, deferred drinks until after he could put his daughter to bed. Considering, A: Cal's utter lack of interest in anything remotely familial, and B: his description of Leo as the sort of callous, fun-loving jock stereotype, Jasper was rather surprised. He hadn't anticipated Cal's brother would be such a family man. It still shocked him that Cal and Leo shared any genetic material. He couldn't imagine someone filled with such unadulterated good being Cal's closest relative. Leo was practically saintly. However, Jasper was the product of parents who had probably never gotten more than a parking ticket between them, so he supposed there was little accounting for how people turned out.

Such musings were interrupted when they reached the Plaza and he was consumed with thoughts of how utterly brilliant the suite was. At the first appearance of the butler, Cal was gone, which was a shame because he really was a rather interesting bloke. His name, to stereotypical perfection, was Alfred. And he did loads more things than Jasper had initially suspected. And he wore white gloves, which Jasper thought was unadulterated genius. However, he disappointingly refused to come back to England. Jasper had a sneaking suspicion that Cal would be pleased to hear that; he had been a bit adamant in his distaste for live-in help. He had apparently been listening in, because he appeared almost as soon as Alfred closed the door and flopped onto the bed.

"If you ever call me Cally again..."

Jasper turned, smiling, and watched Cal sit up and rapidly strip off half his suit, tossing it carelessly onto the floor. He crossed the plush carpet and scooped up the tie, twining it speculatively through his fingers and wondering if they should just cancel their plans with Leo. Drinks would be just as good tomorrow night.

"So that's my brother. And for the record, suits are not proper traveling attire, I don't care how good I ostensibly looked."

He caught Cal before he laid back again, draping the tie loosely around his neck and pulling him forward for a kiss. "But you did look so good, Cally."

He stepped back, tugging forward on the tie until Cal stood, and then dropped it as he led the way into the other room, shuffling out of his shoes as they went through the door. This was undoubtedly his favorite part of staying in hotels. He wasn't sure why; it was a ritual he'd kept up since childhood. After a momentary pause during which he looked over his shoulder at Cal, grinning.

"C'mon."

With that he took off, crossed the room in a few running steps, and vaulted onto the bed. It was utterly undignified, but there was something so viscerally satisfying about jumping on hotel beds. Maybe it was destroying the covers, always too carefully made. Maybe it was simply the abandon that came with staying somewhere new, the exploratory nature that also made you rifle through the fridge and shuffle all the stationery around. Or maybe Jasper had just never grown up. Whatever the case, he thought the Plaza was particularly brilliant because there were five beds to jump on. He was even gracious enough to leave one especially for Cal.

They ended up reclining on the wrecked covers of the bed in the room they'd chosen, once the others had been properly destroyed. Jasper turned to Cal with a self satisfied smile.

"I love staying in hotels." He flung his arms out and stretched until one hand brushed Cal's arm, where it closed around his wrist and pulled him closer until Jasper could fling a leg carelessly over his. "So explain to me how it's even remotely possible that you and Leo are brothers. Is one of you adopted? Head injury at birth mess with the endorphin center in his brain and make him so absurdly happy?"

Jasper seemed to have no compunctions whatsoever about using his tie to lead him about, but Cal went along with it. He was so utterly oblivious sometimes. Jumping on beds seemed the height of entertainment to him.

He himself didn't want to risk it, even though he was still twitchy with nervous energy left over from the plane ride. He'd only fall off and concuss himself. He settled for watching, and it was entertaining, vicarious fun. Always was with Jasper. Always had been with Leo, come to think of it.

That was disturbing--a little disturbing. That he'd had the same sort of weird feelings about his own brother, not that it was sexual; it wasn't. It was covetous, jealous.

Thoughtful, he leaned back in bed, one leg drawn up, head turned toward Jasper. Jas rolled over, one leg flung over his own.

"So explain to me how it's even remotely possible that you and Leo are brothers. Is one of you adopted? Head injury at birth mess with the endorphin center in his brain and make him so absurdly happy?"

"He's not--" Cal frowned, his mouth twinging at one corner. He watched Jasper's face, which had laid itself out along its usual smoothly self-satisfied lines. Cal was often surprised to see himself in the mirror and find his own features so unlined, undistorted. One of those Dorian Gray moments. "I mean, he isn't really that cheery, I think he was just making conversation. I was always jealous of him. I wanted to be him, for most of my life, and he resented it. Of course, in retrospect I suppose for some time he was jealous of me, after a fashion." He shrugged. "My family isn't terrible, Jasper. I'm just not good enough for them."

"He's not--"

Jasper had meant the question as a joke, but Cal was unhappy, mouth in a thin line. He was really starting to think that this trip had been a mistake. He'd encouraged it with the intent of doing something fun with Cal; he'd thought it would be an entire weekend of what they could be in Muggle London, when they didn't have to look out for people they knew or worked with. But Cal looked like he was having the worst time of his life, even jumping on beds in the Plaza hadn't been able to cheer him up, and Jasper thought that was a guaranteed fix.

"I mean, he isn't really that cheery, I think he was just making conversation. I was always jealous of him. I wanted to be him, for most of my life, and he resented it. Of course, in retrospect I suppose for some time he was jealous of me, after a fashion." He shrugged. "My family isn't terrible, Jasper. I'm just not good enough for them."

Merlin. Jasper, who had been all but worshipped by his parents and grandparents, couldn't even begin imagine what would make someone think that way. Especially Cal. Certainly he didn't fit with his family; that had become abundantly clear the moment he saw Leo bounding across the airport lobby. But he wasn't undeserving. He turned and pulled Cal close, burying his face in his hair, which was ruffled with static from the bed.

"He should have been jealous. Leo--I mean, he seems like a nice bloke. Great, actually. But there are loads like him. I'm not trying to be mean about him, I've barely said ten words to the man, but you're infinitely more interesting."

He turned his head to brush a kiss across the side of Cal's neck. "And your parents must know you're brilliant, even if you won't tell them when you're giving a lecture."

"Stop. No." Cal shoved Jasper off and sat up, drawing his knees up to his chest. "I don't have magic. I'm a Squib. That's the difference. I don't know if you realize it, but the thing about weakness, Jasper, is it doesn't matter if you were born disadvantaged, it doesn't matter what your reasons for weakness are. It poisons the rest of your life, because all you can think about is how you'd rather be someone else, anyone else. Master-slave morality; that is, I quite agree that nothing's inherently good... but I'm not good enough to do properly what isn't, or nothing's good for me, because I'm..." He put a hand to his forehead and pressed down.

"I'm sorry, I'm doing exactly what I was just talking about, but that's who I am. It's my fault that I'm a Squib. It's my fault--look, anyway--" He eased one hand back into Jasper's and looked down at him.

"This was supposed to be fun, and I've done what I always do. Overthink. It doesn't matter what my parents think of me, or it wouldn't matter, if I just enjoyed my own life."

He gave Jas a half-smile. "Which I do, often. It's partly the secrecy. I can't tell half the people I meet I'm a Squib, and I can't tell the other half I'm gay."

Blink.

"I've never said that before."

"...It's my fault that I'm a Squib. It's my fault--look, anyway--"

Cal offered his hand and Jasper squeezed it too hard, until he could feel the bones in Cal's knuckles press together.

"How the bloody hell is it your fault? Don't be absurd, Cal, things--happen. You didn't do anything, you might as well blame your parents for it, or Leo."

He wanted to offer something more gentle, but he was the worst at saying that sort of thing, and Cal quite obviously didn't want to be touched right now. He'd learned that a long time ago, that Cal liked a distance between them sometimes. It was something that threw him, the duplicity of Cal's personality that made him so hot and cold. Jasper wasn't so complicated; if he wanted someone, it was all the time.

"This was supposed to be fun, and I've done what I always do. Overthink. It doesn't matter what my parents think of me, or it wouldn't matter, if I just enjoyed my own life." He gave Jas a half-smile. "Which I do, often. It's partly the secrecy. I can't tell half the people I meet I'm a Squib, and I can't tell the other half I'm gay."

There was a pause, and an odd look flickered across Cal's face.

"I've never said that before."

Jasper had to smile back. "You are, then? I mean, it sounds stupid to ask, considering-- but, I'm not, you know what I mean."

He wasn't exactly what he meant, except that it signified that he slept with models sometimes when Cal was busy in his lab. And sometimes with musicians. Anyhow, this wasn't really the time for an intensive discussion of his sexuality. Cal seemed to be coming out of his bad mood and he didn't want to spoil it. He turned onto his side, looking up at Cal where he was hunched against the headboard.

"Do you think Leo guessed? About us?"

He didn't really care if he had; it wasn't as though he was concerned with the judgement of Cal's kid brother. But he hadn't gotten a firm read on Leo, who seemed so imperviously chipper. He assumed that after twenty five (he knew Leo's age? When had he started paying attention to the little details of Cal's life so closely?) years, Cal would be a fairly accurate judge.

"Oh, I'm sure." Cal wasn't certain to which query he was replying. Sexual identity wasn't really the issue at hand, but he assumed his was rather de facto. And it sent so many of the gears of memory crashing into place. It didn't matter if it was true. Most of the tenets everyone lived by weren't.

"I mean--Leo, he's sharper than he looks, when it comes to human beings. Mom used to say we split our inherited traits equally. He got unusual social prescience and magical ability; I got intelligence and insanity. You don't mind, though, do you? I know we're not--" Pause, because what they weren't was hardly important. Hence the weren't. "--but I just want to tell someone, and he can keep secrets. He still hasn't told my parents where I live, and it's been seven years."

Cal looked down, chin on his chest, nervously twisting one corner of his undershirt between two fingers. Jasper still had his other hand, rather painfully.

"I'm really sorry about all this. It's why I didn't want to come back to New York, of course; my family does tend to track me down. But I'm sure we'll be rid of him after this, and you'll have a few days for shopping. Is the butler's name really Alfred, or do you just call him that?"

..."You don't mind, though, do you? I know we're not--" There was a brief, awkward pause during which Cal's forehead creased slightly. Jasper had this same sort of problem sometimes; they had never properly sorted out what they were, or weren't, more technically. It was only a certain amount of planning before he spoke that kept him out of this sort of catch. "--but I just want to tell someone, and he can keep secrets."

Cal wouldn't look him in the eye, instead twisting up the edge of his shirt into wrinkles. It took Jasper a moment to realize that he was implicitly asking permission to tell Leo. He hadn't really expected that Cal would want to tell his brother, since he seemed to adamant that his parents not find out about them, but he really didn't mind, especially if Leo was really as good at keeping secrets as Cal suggested.

"I'm really sorry about all this. It's why I didn't want to come back to New York, of course; my family does tend to track me down. But I'm sure we'll be rid of him after this, and you'll have a few days for shopping. Is the butler's name really Alfred, or do you just call him that?"

Cal was shifting his fingers uncomfortably, and Jasper realized he still had a rather aggressive grip on his hand. He unclenched his fingers before he replied, shuffling up from his uncomfortable position so they were at eye level.

"Tell him, then. It's fine with me. All of this is. I wanted this trip to be fun for you too, yeah?"

He turned and looked out the window, where the sun was setting against the New York skyline. He'd forgotten that he actually rather liked America, besides all the coffee. Which they compensated for rather nicely by having bloody spectacular hotels. He thought he'd noticed a hot tub lurking somewhere in the massive place, which seemed promising considering how grimy travel always made him feel. He pulled Cal off the bed and led him into the bathroom.

"And yes, his name is really Alfred. Wait here, I'm calling him to bring up some wine. You can hide behind the shower curtain if you want, since you obviously loathe him."


Jasper gave the room a final glancing over to make sure nothing looked suspiciously rumpled/humid/couple-like before nodding at Alfred to answer Leo's knock at precisely 9:15. Against Cal's wishes, he'd called the butler in specifically for the occasion. He had a suspicion that Cal's brother had Apparated over; no one made time like that in traffic. Straightening his tie (newly purchased at Harrod's for this trip), he smiled.

"Hey Leo, glad you could make it." He turned and shot Cal a rather evil grin. "Let Alfred know what you're drinking, he does a brilliant martini, and I can also testify for his mojitos."

Jas had, of course, insisted upon dressing him up again for drinks, even though it was only his brother. Leo noticed immediately.

"Nice suit, big bro." His raised eyebrows said more than any exclamation: he was used to the Cal who barely managed to bathe or find a shirt that wasn't inside-out or filled with holes, apart from, or possibly including, his 'goth' phase.

"You too." Cal actually had no idea, but it was black and professionally cut. The tie was nice, he thought even Jasper might approve, though he still had very little idea of what Jasper approved of, precisely.

He backed up and hovered beside Jasper as Leo made small talk with Alfred. That was one thing his brother did that he couldn't imagine doing himself: chatting with people in the service industry. The only thing Cal did was overtip, because he felt uncomfortable, or, with House Elves, get rather snippy and try to drive them off. But Leo loved it, he loved people, which was something Cal would never be able to fathom.

Once they were settled with drinks, Leo's a screwdriver heavier on the orange juice than the vodka and Cal's a triple gin, and had dispatched with small talk about Jasper's job, Leo's job, and their respective social circles, Cal cleared his throat.

"So I'm sorry about everything. But you know how it is. It's just easier in a new place." He shrugged, sipping at his drink, and hooked one foot around Jasper's ankle under the table. "I've been doing research, really interesting stuff actually, I make enough to get by, and you can tell Mom and Dad, if you like--you know, that I'm not falling apart or anything."

Leo was surprised, and glanced at Jasper; but if Cal was willing to talk in front of him, it was obviously not his business. Cal had never had a friend that Leo could recall, or any sort of significant relationship. It surprised him that this British fellow, well-groomed, charming, and cheerfully dapper, seemed so close to his older brother, whom he had always considered charming in his own way but definitely an acquired taste and someone he didn't really understand.

"No problem." He sipped his drink slowly, watching Cal. "You know, you won't believe me, but Mildrew and Eli miss you, too." Their House Elves. "Eli says he still doesn't know what to do with himself without your room to overhaul every week. But if you're happy in England, that's great. I love the accent."

"I'd still like to meet Melissa and Annie, properly." He had seen his brother's wife over firecall, but just the once.

"They'd love to meet you. I don't guess you've ever thought about... I know I'm kind of young for the whole marriage thing, but it happens, we knew what we wanted, you know?"

Pause. Cal glanced at Jasper, and took note of the fact that Leo had as well.

"We like to keep things casual."

"Oh, so you're...?"

"Gay. He isn't actually. I am."

"Right-o."

"OK."

"Great."

"Yeah."

"What, did you think I was going to tease you? I'm not thirteen anymore."

"Well--"

"Though I did always sort of--"

"Shut up."

"It's just that the poster of that Muggle guy you--"

"I'm going to kick you."

"Gosh. Well, don't worry, I won't tell Mom and Dad, though I think Mom would be pleased, you know, that you've, ah..."

"Socialized myself, I think that's how she put it."

"Must be the English propaganda, we're good capitalists here."

"That's it, I really will kick you."

"Jasper's a good capitalist, aren't you, Jasper?"

Cal sat back, breathless from the work of maintaining casual conversation, his face flushed. Hastily, he tossed back the rest of his gin, then laced his fingers with Jasper's on the tabletop. He really hoped Jas was all right with this. Marriage had come up a disturbing number of times on this trip, really...

Aside from himself, of course, Jasper had never seen Cal so relaxed around another person. Well, relaxed for Cal. Which was still relatively edgy for most people, but he seemed as though he was enjoying himself with Leo. It probably didn't hurt that they'd done some (entirely scientific) testing of Alfred's bartending skill before Leo's arrival. Leo himself proved once more that he and Cal were obviously not blood relatives when he ordered a screwdriver so weak that Jasper would have given it to a four year old child without batting an eye. Considering he'd once seen Cal dissolving a Vicodin in a vodka and tonic... clearly not brothers.

They did engage in some rather brotherly banter though. It was a rare experience for Jasper to not be the center of a conversation, but he didn't really mind listening to Cal and Leo. Parts of the conversation floated by him with little interest; he didn't really care that much about the state of Cal's house elves, but he snapped to attention when there was a tense silence and suddenly both Feroxes were looking at him. Cal's eyes were disconcerting enough on their own; multiplied, it was a rather alarming experience.

"We like to keep things casual."

"Oh, so you're...?"

Jasper watched the following verbal tennis match with intense interest. Leo took the revelation in stride; it seemed he had known all along. He wasn't sure he appreciated that Cal felt the need to explain his sexuality like he was telling Leo about the features of a new watch, but he had to let it go, because Leo turned the conversation to him rather suddenly.

"Jasper's a good capitalist, aren't you, Jasper?"

Jasper laughed. From Cal that sort of phrase would have clearly been an innuendo, but from his brother-- no, he was entirely too nice. Which was also why he could never know that Jasper adhered to the capitalist system in the most extreme sense. He seemed to have a very liberal viewpoint in most respects, but Cal had implied that he would be decidedly critical of any criminal behavior that came up in conversation.

"I do embrace the principles, it's true."

He glanced down in surprise when Cal's hand found his on the table, then closed his fingers around to touch the back of his palm. Cal looked more relaxed than he had since they'd left the house that morning. Jasper wondered if it was really that much of a relief to stop lying to your family. He wouldn't know; he'd been telling his parents that "the jewelry business is just so lucrative" since he was nineteen.

Leo glanced around at the suite and Jasper's suit. "Seems like it." He flashed his good-natured smile, as though he would have been capable of making that statement as anything but the kindest joke. "So jewelry, how did you get into that?"

"I needed a way to fund my addiction." He waited for the downbeat of surprise on Leo's face, as though he was revoking his judgement that Jasper was suitable for his brother, then held up his hand, glancing at his tailored sleeve. "Suits, they aren't cheap."

Leo smiled, and Jasper took the opportunity to turn the conversation away from his business, which could get touchy quickly when the other person understood finance and the fact that there was no way jewel sales could pay for things like a long weekend at the Plaza.

"Yours is pretty ace itself-- is that the new Thomas Pink print for spring?"

Leo glanced down in surprise at his shirt. Clearly he'd been unprepared for Jasper's disturbingly encyclopedic knowledge of fashion. "Yeah, actually." He looked down at Cal and Jasper's hands, and their impeccable cuffs, then back up with a hint of suspicion. "You're responsible for Cal's new look, aren't you? I haven't seen him in a jacket and tie since he started rebelling against the family Christmas pictures at about twelve."

Jasper couldn't repress a slightly evil snicker at the thought of Cal in a Santa hat. "Guilty."


The rest of the evening went by quickly, helped along by the fact that Leo went home at midnight like the good boy he was. Cal, habitually, shrugged out of his jacket as soon as his brother and the butler were gone. Jasper finished off his drink and stretched before flopping back onto the bed. It had been an absurdly long day.

"I like him," he said, grinning. "He reminds me of what I would be like if I had a moral code and an ungodly love for Quidditch."

Cal was intent on undoing his cufflinks and didn't reply, so he continued.

"So Cally, did I make a good impression? And who was the Muggle bloke on your wall?"

All in all, the evening had been surprisingly painless. He hadn't quite recalled the poignancy with which his childhood with Leo continued to permeate his life, like the last shaft of natural sunlight on a dying day. Well, that was depressing. Cal shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the floor--the butler would take care of it. Butlers. Jasper enjoyed Alfred all too much, though Cal supposed that if one commodified people a butler really was the height of sophistication. That was one difference. Leo never forgot people were...

Sickeningly sweet, actually...

What he hadn't known was how interested his brother could pretend to be in clothing. Oh--obviously Leo dressed well, it was something he had always taken pride in, but it was more along the lines of fastidiousness than foppistry. He wanted to look 'good' and 'right,' not 'sexy'. Another difference.

Why was he cataloguing the differences between Jasper and his brother?

Cal shook his head and poured himself another drink, wandering over to the bed in time to see Jasper fling himself down onto the mattress. He sat too, after tossing back another shot of gin, and started undoing his cufflinks.

Jasper was a Legilimens, apparently. "I like him," he said, grinning. "He reminds me of what I would be like if I had a moral code and an ungodly love for Quidditch."

"Mm." How did these things work? It seemed so simple when he was sober. He managed to get the left one after protracted combat, but had to turn and fling one arm out toward Jasper for help with the right.

"So Cally, did I make a good impression? And who was the Muggle bloke on your wall?"

The world had rather blurred itself by this point, and he had to speak a little more slowly and carefully than usual. "You did, of course you did. He thinks you're just like him, and I hope he never learns otherwise. And if you must know," he said, wrist still caught in Jasper's grasp while he fiddling with the cufflink, which Cal really saw no point in wearing at all, "it was only a Doors poster, with Morrison on it. Since for some reason the bloke never wears a shirt..." He shrugged. "Leo used to tease me about it, so of course I couldn't take it down, matter of principle. I've always liked Jim Morrison. Not everyone can stay so angry even while on so many drugs, he was an inspiration to me."

Cal, having downed his own weight in gin, was struggling with his cufflinks. He managed to disentangle one from his wrist and chuck it on the carpet in annoyance, then presumptuously offered his other hand to Jasper, who sat up obligingly and unfastened it in one practiced motion, tossing it onto the side table.

"...if you must know," Cal said, his consonants a little fuzzy, "it was only a Doors poster, with Morrison on it. Since for some reason the bloke never wears a shirt...I've always liked Jim Morrison. Not everyone can stay so angry even while on so many drugs, he was an inspiration to me."

He still had his hand around Cal's wrist, and he slid his fingers under his loose cuff before pulling him back onto the bed. Cal slipped backward bonelessly, his eyes flickering a moment before they managed to focus on Jasper, who took a quick moment to sit up slightly and shrug off his jacket before lying back down on his side. He slid a hand across Cal's cheek; the muscles in his face were slack and his lips were sticky with gin when he leaned in for a kiss.

"You're so drunk." He smiled slowly as Cal attempted to focus on him again and achieved only moderate success. "And it's--" he consulted his watch then curled his fingers around the knot of Cal's tie-- "so early. I do love New York."


Jasper awoke to sunlight flooding the bedroom and noted that it might be wise, in the future, to close the blinds when one's room faced east. He looked over at Cal, who was still soundly asleep, then burrowed further under the covers and closed his eyes again. Moments like this were ones he particularly cherished in his busy life; silence of this sort was a rarity that came, actually, most often in Cal's presence. During his lunch breaks or in early mornings like this one. He turned on the pillow, flinging one arm across Cal's chest, and tried to go back to sleep.

Sadly it was not to be, because hardly a minute had passed when he heard a businesslike knock at the door and the sound of polished shoes in the entryway. Why had he and Cal decided, somewhat drunkenly, that they would very much like to have a full breakfast at ten A.M? He was never, ever having that many martinis when he had access to a butler again. But then again, the butler had provided him with the martinis--

He slid out from under the covers, finding a pair of pants on the floor (they ended up being Cal's and flicked around his ankles, just a little too short) before opening the bedroom door and poking his head out, voice barely above a whisper. He suspected Cal would wake up with a hangover, and might not appreciate the sight of the dreaded butler so early.

"Good morning sir." The butler looked so bloody polished. Jasper was going to have to convince Cal that they needed one.

"Cheers Alfred. Just leave it on the table, thanks. Cal is still sleeping."

"Very good, Mr. Christie." Alfred gave Jasper's wrinkled pants a slightly skeptical look, which Jasper supposed he deserved, considering Alfred's impossibly sharp creases, but smiled and closed the door quietly on his way out. Jasper wandered back into the bedroom and collapsed on top of the covers hard enough to wake Cal, who opened his eyes blearily.

"Morning, breakfast is here. I got you something." (Poptarts, which Alfred had thought quite questionable during the whispered conversation that they'd had on the phone at 2:30, but Jasper thought Cal could use a happy start to the day.) He shook Cal's shoulder. "C'mon, up, up. We're going shopping."

There was something about really high-quality bed linens. Cal wasn't sure, actually, if it was the linens or the new location or the air inside the suite, which seemed unusually pure and clear. Last night had been, if rather hazy in memory, at least pleasantly so. He woke up briefly during the night, to a pounding headache (unsurprising, considering the amount of alcohol he had consumed), but quickly settled back into sleep once he had buried his head in the crook of Jasper's neck.

He woke up some hours later to mumbled voices, and shifted a little in bed, flinging one arm across the empty side opposite him. Jasper. Where was--

A sudden vibration, and Jasper settled in next to him, rather more forcibly than usual.

"Morning, breakfast is here. I got you something." He shook Cal's shoulder. "C'mon, up, up. We're going shopping."

Breakfast... shopping. Cal wasn't particularly enthusiastic about either one. Blearily, he sat up, tugging the blankets with him in case the pernicious and insidiously quiet Alfred was still about. He looked around. No. All right. He reached forward, hooking one finger through Jasper's belt-loop--an oddly familiar belt-loop, one he had stretched before when standing about awkwardly. "You're wearing my pants."

He had to pause to put one hand to his head. "Water, please. Or hangover spell." He made a face. "Apparently drinks with my brother requires a lot of drink to relatively little brother. I really told him about this."

He shook his head, still fiddling with Jasper's belt-loop. "What did you get, some sort of--" Blink. The tray resolved in front of him, and Cal smiled suddenly--a facial gesture he'd never expected to make before noon at the absolute earliest--and tackled Jasper, heedless of headache. Pinning him to the bed, or attempting to do so, he craned his neck down and kissed Jasper, rather hard.

"Pop-tarts. You must really want to go shopping. I'm terrified."

Cal opened his eyes reluctantly. That was the main problem with poptarts; they lacked an enticing smell to coax one out of bed. He gave Jasper a bleary once-over, duly noting that he was dressed with a bit less flair than usual as he tugged on the belt-loop of his pants. Jasper shrugged.

"I discovered that the downside to having a butler would be the need for spur of the moment dressing. Never a good idea."

He'd expected Cal to be thrilled that he had actually admitted a flaw in his plan for acquiring a nattily dressed member of the household staff, but Cal seemed to have other concerns. Namely cultivating an unhealthy greyish cast to his skin.

"Water, please. Or hangover spell." Jasper leaned backward and patted the table next to the bed in search of his wand as Cal continued, the sleepy roughness in his voice fading. "What did you get, some sort of-"

"Hmm?" Wand in hand, Jasper turned back just in time to be pressed flat against the bed by Cal, who had apparently forgotten how unwell he'd felt ten seconds ago. Jasper relaxed into the mattress, pleased by this sudden turn of events, even if he didn't exactly understand what had prompted it. He supposed breakfast would get cold, but happily Alfred could bring up something else whenever they wanted. Plus one for getting a butler.

"Pop-tarts. You must really want to go shopping. I'm terrified."

Cal had pulled away rather suddenly, looking over his shoulder at the breakfast tray. Jasper frowned in disappointment, trying to pull him back into bed, but Cal was already on his feet, picking up Jasper's crumpled pants and tugging them on. Jasper caught him around the waist before he could get too far away.

"You should be. I've got five words for you, Ferox. Rag and Bone flagship store."


Three hours, five poptarts, fifteen suits, and one hangover spell later, Jasper and Cal were in the dressing room of said store, discussing the merits of a rather splendid wool herringbone suit. Well, Jasper thought it was splendid. Cal was less certain. Jasper had a handful of ties, which he was holding up against the latest shirt/suit combo for comparison.

"No, really, it's going to look great with the navy one." He looped said tie around Cal's neck and scrutinized the colors. "Unless-- okay, this is important, is there a dinner after this lecture thing? Or cocktails?" Jasper ran a hand through his hair indecisively. "Did you notice if I packed that one pair of black shoes? Here, turn around once, yeah?" He watched Cal rotate impatiently in the mirror. "Maybe we should try the greyish one again. What do you think?"

Cal supposed he should, by this point, have realized what 'shopping with Jasper' meant. For such a vain man, Jas had very little interest in expanding his own wardrobe. Instead, he treated such excursions as opportunities to play Ferox Barbie. Cal had long since found he could neither attenuate the occasion with fidgeting nor dissuade Jasper from his all-too-singleminded purpose, so he had decided on a solution. Jasper thought about hairstyle while he talked about his interests; he spent the better part of half an hour mulling over the contents of his lecture while Jasper shuffled him in and out of various outfits.

He studiously avoided thinking about the spectacle they presented. Jasper was fussing over him as though he were some sort of trophy... thing, or glamor boy or something. And he was so comfortable in the store. He treated the saleslady like his own employee, and seemed perfectly at ease giving her directions, explaining trends, discussing... things Cal didn't particularly care about.

At present, they were sequestered in a large dressing room, surrounding by more clothing than Cal had owned in the ten years prior to meeting Jasper.

Cal was thinking about the path-integral formula and the Einstein-Podolsky-Rosen paradox. He would probably have to summarize its application to magic, but once he had established it as the extra variable that circumvented the EPR paradox, the rest really fell into place. A lucky thing powerpoint presentations were still acceptable format at MAAM. He couldn't have handled anything magical. But maybe that would be a giveaway. Maybe he could get Jasper to help...? No, that couldn't possibly work.

Back to the EPR paradox. Could he illustrate it without diagrams? Generally people seemed not to understand his papers when he presented them only verbally.

Even the tie Jasper looped around his neck failed to distract him for long. Cal shifted his weight from foot to foot, catching intermittent glimpses of himself in the mirror. He still thought he looked rather silly in the clothing Jasper chose, as though he were playacting.

"-- should try the greyish one again. What do you think?"

Cal blinked. Unlike the rest of Jas's fiddling and muttering, this had clearly been directed at him, not at the Fashion God in the sky, or himself, which was more or less the same thing. "What?" He glanced down. "No, I think this is fine, let's get it. Or you could try it on. Or I could just take it off. Or you could take it off for me. What time is it?"

Cal was staring somewhere into middle distance, his eyes largely unfocused. Jasper picked up his arm experimentally and slid it out of the jacket sleeve; it flopped back to his side limply. He'd known that Cal wasn't going to be the most active participant in shopping, but this was an entirely new level of disengagement. He probably could have dressed Cal in a tutu and snowshoes and sent him out into the store unaware. Sadly Rag & Bone had neither garment in stock, or he would have given it a try.

"What?" Cal finally woke up from whatever daydream he was having (probably about how he could turn Jasper's shoe polish kit into a bomb or something) and looked down at his suit. He seemed nonplussed, even though he looked amazing. "No, I think this is fine, let's get it. Or you could try it on. Or I could just take it off. Or you could take it off for me. What time is it?"

He rattled off the questions so quickly that Jasper didn't have a chance of answering. Although he was mildly surprised that Cal had actually suggested they buy something; he usually offered no opinions, and seemed a little uncomfortable when Jasper insisted on paying (which he always did, Cal should have been used to it by now). He must have been truly desperate to get out of the store; since he'd also broken out several other diversionary tactics, combining the suggestive and impatient routes into one. Jasper tossed the jacket onto the chair in the corner of the dressing room and pulled Cal forward by the ends of his tie.

"It is--" he glanced at his watch-- "two thirty. Which means we've got half an hour until the lunch reservations I made. Which means you have time to try these on--" he brandished a charcoal tweed cavalry jacket, skinny tuxedo pants, and a shirt that he'd been eyeing for himself but wanted Cal to model-- "or we can find another way to pass the time."

His fingers paused on the buttons of Cal's shirt and pushed him back against the mirror. "I think the undressing plan is solid, but you're going to have to start participating more actively. No more thinking about physics, yeah? Those shoes I sent the girl to the back for don't come out for three weeks, so she's going to be looking for a while."

He leaned in for a kiss, then pulled back, unable to restrain a smile. "Glamor boy."

"Glamor boy." Cal yanked Jasper forward by his tie (they really were handy, those things). "I'll show you glamor boy, and I hope you can make undressing worth it, or I'm not trying on any--"

Admittedly, Jasper did.

It was really lucky he ended up buying so much, because Cal was fairly sure they'd not only terrified the returning saleslady but driven away a few other potential customers. Not that they had been too ridiculous, but it was Jasper. And really, there was no other way to salvage the hideous experience of shopping.


"I think I know why I dislike it so much," he said, poking furtively at his steak when they'd finally escaped the purgatory of Rag and Bone, not without the burden of some three bags of clothing. To be fair, Jasper had Banished them to their hotel room, where doubtless they'd confuse Alfred extraordinarily. Still, it was the principle of the thing.

"Shopping, I mean. Trying on clothing. It's like a great many days going by uselessly, changing clothing for no reason at all. It's a waste of time and it reminds me of my mortality." An emphatic gesture with his fork underscored this point. Maybe he should've measured out the cocaine before snorting everything he had in the bathroom, but it was too late now. "I hate to be reminded of my mortality."

He stabbed at his steak (rare) and kicked Jasper beneath the table. "I'm going to make you sit through every single lecture on Monday. Also, I don't think they'll ever let us back into that store. They were staring at me when we left."

Jasper didn't think that Cal really appreciated the effort he'd gone to in booking a nice restaurant for lunch. He'd ordered a steak, as he often did when they went out, but he seemed to be dissecting rather than enjoying it. He had, however, commented on how much he'd enjoyed the marble countertops in the bathroom. From the size of his pupils, Jasper deduced that he had enjoyed it rather more than usual.

"It's like a great many days going by uselessly, changing clothing for no reason at all. It's a waste of time and it reminds me of my mortality." He stabbed at his plate viciously and frowned. Jasper paused, halfway through a bite of tilapia, and thought again about Cal's birthday, and his last thoughts before Cal dropped off to sleep. He'd stayed awake a long time that night, watching the fire die and thinking. Cal was thirty, but he'd aged as much as Jasper would by fifty. He put his fork down and took a sip of wine, less hungry than he had been despite a morning of shopping.

As usual, Cal incorporated a bit of violence into the situation, testing out the bruising capacity of his shoes and snapping Jasper back to reality. "I'm going to make you sit through every single lecture on Monday. Also, I don't think they'll ever let us back into that store. They were staring at me when we left."

He looked across the table at Cal, the smooth skin around his eyes and mouth. Only thirty. He quickly switched back to a smile; he didn't want Cal to know what he was thinking, it was entirely too personal, too attached. This trip was already-- he'd said they were married. And Leo probably thought--

Stop it.

He picked up his fork again and collected his thoughts.

"I like to think of clothes as a signifier that I'm young, and bloody good looking. But if you want to get all nihilistic about a good waistcoat--" He kicked Cal back gently. "Are you nervous about the lecture? I'm looking forward to seeing you speak. Especially if you wear the green check tie. I'll spend the time thinking of alternate uses for it instead of chemistry. Physics. Whatever you're speaking about."

He picked up his wineglass and twirled it briefly by the stem.

"They'll let us back into Rag and Bone anytime. When you spend--whatever we spent, I can't convert-- they don't care. I was thinking we could go back tomorrow."