maskormenacelogs | Here we are together in the middle of the night!

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Here we are together in the middle of the night!

WHO: Midnighter and Apollo
WHERE: New York City
WHEN: Mid May
WHAT: The pair definitely do NOT go on a date. Nope.
WARNINGS: None expected, other than two idiots continuing to be idiots.

[M had never actually been to a play before. He'd seen them, but never attended one live. So, like anything else he's never done before, he did a bit of research to see how to properly dress and behave. Apparently, people used to dress up to see musicals, but now it's a bit more casual, so M dresses for both with a nice dark grey button down and deep blue jeans.

The ticket--his ticket--was sticking out of his breast pocket, and he idly picked it up to stare at the details, even though he had memorized it all a long time ago. What was he thinking, inviting Apollo out for a night like this? He wants to say that it was because of the bet all those months ago, but he was under no obligation to go through with it. After all, Apollo had never worn Andrew's outfit either. They could have just called it a draw and never talked about it again.

...And Apollo had called it a date--before promptly correcting himself that it was most certainly not a date. How the hell is he supposed to take that? And why the hell does he keep getting closer to a married man?

Their driver for the evening--an asset of M's who owed him a favor--calls him over to the oversized stretch limosine waiting on the curb for a man that could fly them there in a sixteenth of the time to finalize some of the details. M slips the ticket back into his pocket and goes over, finally tearing his attention away from the sky for the time being.]

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[ If Apollo was being honest with himself then he'd acknowledge that this was a dangerous game. Pretending that the electric tension between them doesn't exist, and that going to the theatre together wasn't a painfully obvious date. Pretending that there wasn't another Apollo out there who fits the space in this Midnighter's heart more perfectly than he ever will. Pretending that there wasn't another Apollo out there who would be devastatingly jealous, either now or in the future, if he ever learned about this.

(Apollo can't speak for his own Midnighter; that version gave up any right to be jealous the day he walked out the door three years ago. On that point Apollo is in absolutely no denial, despite how much it hurts.)

But he doesn't want to be honest with himself, just for one pure and simple fact. He likes Midnighter. He likes this unspoken understanding between them. And he doesn't want this to stop.

He's dressed similarly, in a buttoned shirt and a nice pair of chinos, because that's what people wear when they're (not) on a date. The golden streak of light that heralds his arrival across the city skyline is pointedly less intense than usual, simply because he doesn't want to singe his clothes. They don't make flame-proof chinos, apparently.

He lands lightly and grins at the sight of the car, clearly impressed. ]

A limo! Haven't been in one of these in a long while. [ He grins at M. ] Hi.

[M can't help but smile softly when he hears the familiar voice behind him. He'd heard the other man landing, but pretended not to, pretending to focus all of his attention on the driver and their itinerary for the evening. He finally turns once he gets the pesky, conflicting emotions under control, and once he turns he realizes that he hasn't gotten them under as much control as he'd like.

Apollo looked good. M had grown so used to seeing him in dad jeans or sweatpants he had sort of thought that was how the other man would look now. The shirt looked good on him; it was a good color and the buttons somehow didn't seem like they would break off at any moment given Apollo's broad chest.

...Fuck. This might have been a bad idea.

It should have been a signal to stop now, before his thoughts took him down a road he couldn't come back from, but instead he chose to approach the older man with what he hoped was a normal smile.]

So you can clean up. Hi.

[He follows Apollo's gaze to the limo.]

Wes, Apollo. Apollo, Wes. He'll be our driver for the evening. He owed me a favor.

[The driver, Wes, goes over and emphatically shakes Apollo's hand. "Hey there, it's a pleasure to meet someone Midnighter actually likes for a change. I hope I won't be too slow for you."]

Hi, Wes. Thank you for doing this. [ Apollo shakes his hand with a grin, then nods over his shoulder in M's direction. ] Don't let him fool you, he's a big softy really.

[ Because what, it's hard to befriend M? All you have to do is barge in to his apartment and yell at him for being (and also for not being) like your ex-husband, apparently. Apollo turns his attention back to M, nodding appreciatively at the outfit. ]

And you don't clean up so badly yourself, mister-'real men eat ass'-tank-top.

[ Because Apollo is never going to forget that shirt for as long as he lives (in this world, at least). ]

[Wes replies that it's no problem at all, but is a little surprised to hear Midnighter being called a softy, of all things. This man has clearly witnessed M's work first-hand.]

Hey, I have a very specific reputation to uphold here, sunshine. Get in the car.

[And to prove he means business he'll be draping an arm over Apollo's shoulders and guiding him in the direction of the limo.]

I'll have you know that I normally dress like this. That day I just wanted to leave a lasting impression.

[Ever the gentleman (or maybe just eager to get the older man into the car and away from his precious reputation), he opens the door for Apollo.]

Okay, okay, getting in the car...

[ The arm around his shoulder takes him by surprise, if only because it's intimate in a way that Apollo hadn't quite expected. Not that it's a bad thing - not in the slightest - and for a moment he can't help but grin at the closeness of it all.

He pauses at the limo door, one hand on the sleek black metal as turns to ask with a knowing grin: ]

What impression were you going for exactly?

[It was just the only way he could think of to manuever Apollo.... certainly nothing deeper to think about there. Not at all.]

Oh I don't know. Dark. Brooding. Scary. "Will murder you if you think that I'm soft?"

[A pause.]

Or did you mean us... right now? For that I was going for "always pays his debts."

With style.

Funny, I thought it was Fubuki's debt.

[ With a lingering, knowing look Apollo relents and finally ducks inside the limo properly. It isn't often that he manages to fold himself inside a car without bumping his head or taking up far too room on the seats, but the good thing about limos is all that extra leg room. He stretches out a bit, luxuriating in the sleek leather interior. It's been a long damn time since he was last in one of these. He waits until M has joined him before pointing out: ]

You're only partially soft, for the record. I don't think that warrants a full murdering.

I'm merely Fubuki's emissary for the evening.

[M knows it's a lie, Apollo knows it's a lie, and still that's what he's going to go with. It sounds better.

He slides into the limo after Apollo and takes a seat opposite the larger man.]

I said that's the reputation I was going for, not a threat to what I'd do to you.

Whatever you say, Mister Dark-Brooding-and-Scary.

[ When they're both inside the limo and the door has shut behind them with a resounding thud, it's difficult to hide from the fact that this is really a thing that's happening. Apollo doesn't often allow himself to feel fear but there's certainly a brief, uncomfortable flash of nerves that catches him off-guard. When was the last time he felt nervous, even about anything at all? Apollo can't even remember.

It's the good kind of nerves, he thinks. Proof that even on the wrong side of forty he can still get butterflies like a giddy teenager. ]

That's better.

[M shifts in his seat, ostensibly to find a more comfortable spot, but honsetly because of what he might dare to consider nerves. Only Apollo's could do this to him, apparently.]

So Fubuki made a good choice?

[That felt like a safe conversation starter, and he wanted to continue the obvious lie. It was easier to think about than whatever the hell else was going on in his head at the moment.]

[ Apollo smiles indulgently; if M wants to continue using Fubuki as their proxy - the strange shield that prevents any of this from becoming too real - then that's fine. Perhaps it will make all of this a bit easier for both of them. ]

Fubuki chose very well. Have you seen the movie?

[ He can guess the answer but it seems almost insulting to just go ahead and assume. ]

There's a movie?

[Look, he looked at everything that was currently out on Broadway, read some synopsis' and figured this one was the most "Apollo" out of all of them. He didn't even ask any of his assets for an assist on this one.]

Oh, there's a movie. [ Apollo nods enthusiastically, settling back against the leather seats. ] The musical came first. Or I suppose the book came first, really. They dubbed over Audrey Hepburn's voice for all the songs which was pretty unnecessary. Rex Harrison didn't even try, he could barely sing a note...

[ He trails off, suddenly acutely aware of how ridiculous he must sound, and laughs at himself. ]

God, you must think I'm mad.

[M tilts his head ever so slightly at that. He's not quite surprised by the comment (even with the fight computer offline, it's not the first time this has ever happened to him), more... curious at the reaction.]

You're speaking another language, so to speak, but I don't think you're mad.

I don't think anyone could find you mad.

[After all, he's the mad one. No one just seems to see that.]

Good. [ He grins cheerfully. ] But give it time.

[ Apollo manages to keep his golden age nerdery contained for most of the rest of the journey in to the city, except in the moments where his nerves get the better of him. Mindless chatter about Audrey Hepburn was easier to focus on than the butterflies in his stomach and the building excitement that Apollo realises has actually very little to do with the musical itself. He's excited for this, whatever this is. Whatever it is he and Midnighter are sharing right now, right here, a million universes away from their homes.

By the time the limo rolls slowly up outside the theatre Apollo's nerves still aren't that much better but he's at least decided that they're good nerves. The car pulls to a stop and Apollo calls through to Wes in the driver's seat: ]

Don't worry about coming round, we'll let ourselves out...

[ Because no matter how used Apollo is to limos, he's not one to stand on ceremony. He flashes a grin at M and nods to the door. ]

After you.

[M listens politely to the chatter, words that honestly mean nothing to him, but it's clear from the way Apollo talks that it means something to him. The easy smiles, the clear joy from whatever it is he's talking about makes M begin to care about them too--if only because it means seeing more of Apollo's face lit up like that.

He spends the trip asking polite if not slightly ignorant questions about whatever it is, in the hopes that it'll spark something else and he'll smile at M that way again. The nerves--as M is begrudgingly beginning to accept them--only intensifies with each smile, but he finds that, no matter how dangerous it might be, that he doesn't mind that feeling.

And all too soon, they've arrived. He takes a breath to get his feelings (hopefully) under control once more, then leans towards the window separating the driver from the rest of the limo.]

Thanks, Wes.

[Enjoy your night, guys!

M nods in acknowledgement, at both Apollo and Wes.]

Why thank you.

[He exits quickly, then turns around and offers his hand to Apollo.]

[ They're both aware that there's no way in a million years Apollo needs that helping hand right now, but the hell is that fact going to stop Apollo from taking it. It's too charming, too sweet; Apollo smiles in genuine delight as he gives readily gives Midnighter his hand as he steps out of the limo. ]

Thank you, [ He insists, squeezing M's hand lightly, warmly, for emphasis. Holding M's hand in his own feels more perfect than anything he's felt in three long, lonely years and for a moment he desperately fights the urge to simply... not let go. But he does, reluctantly, and forces his attention on the theatre with an uncomfortable pang in his chest. ]

Let's go.

[The warmth from Apollo's hand shoots up M's arm like a fireball, and he has to fight the urge to pull him closer. He can't deny that his stray feelings are getting stronger now, as much as he'd like to. Being around Apollo felt right... even if he knew that hole was meant for someone else.

M slips his hand into his pocket to keep from grabbing Apollo's again and gives a quick nod before joining the crowd going into the building. He shows his ticket and soon they're shown to their seats by one of the theater's ushers, which groans a little under M's weight, more from age than anything.

Fubuki got them good seats. Not front row good--she didn't want to be flashy, but there was a clear view of the stage with neither of the wings partially blocked from view either.]

[ It's been years - longer than the three he's been alone for - since Apollo was last at the theatre. Something in him, deep beyond the vast, empty black expanse at the fringes of his memory, seems to remember going to the theatre when he was younger - a rare memory of something, something warm and familiar and welcoming, from before he became who he is now. He settles back in the seat, savouring that feeling, and flashes Midnighter a brilliant grin. ]

Thank you for this. [ He's letting the Fubuki pretence drop, just for a moment of heartfelt and sincere gratitude. It's important. ] Honestly, thank you. This means a lot.

[It takes all of his considerable willpower not to grab his hand--at the bare minimum--at that. He's fairly certain no one's ever looked at him before like that, not even Andrew. It catches his breath for a few seconds before he remembers to breathe, and he quickly glances at the floor, rubbing at the back of his neck.]

I'm... glad you like it. I had no idea what I was doing, so I thought I might have messed something up.

[He did, but it had nothing to do with his choice or the seats.]

[ Apollo might not have a computer in his brain but he knows how to read a Midnighter. That level of bashfulness is beyond sweet and Apollo's stellar grin softens just a fraction in to something less giddy, more fond. ]

No, it's perfect...

[ God, he wants to reach beside him and take M's hand again, to squeeze it meaningfully. To say you're perfect, to tell him that all the effort he's gone to tonight is so very appreciated. That's he's appreciated, every last bit of him. But... he doesn't. He can't. It's too much, Apollo knows it is, and saying that kind of thing out loud makes everything he's feeling too dangerously real. So instead he settles for simply adding: ]

All of it.

I... I'm just really glad you like it.

[M finds the playbill in his lap and opens it, hoping to find something, anything to distract him from the moment.]

Do you know who any of these people are?

[He points to the cast list on the page he opened to.]

Should I?

No, I haven't a clue, [ Apollo replies cheerfully. Truth be told, he's not sure he'd recognise any of celebrities here even if there were any in the cast. One of the many, many reliefs of not being as famous here as he was in his home world is the fact Apollo doesn't have to remember a ridiculous amount of names any more.

He settles back comfortably in his seat as the lights begin to dim and he grins at Midnighter in anticipation. ]

Here we go...

[M sits back in his chair as the lights dim, daring to spare one last glance at his guest before turning his full attention to the stage. Despite himself, he finds himself getting into it, though not nearly to the extent that Apollo seems to, seeing as M can't help but sneak glances the other man's way to see how he's enjoying himself.

Around the time that Freddy is introduced, M's arm brushes against Apollo's as he readjusts his weight on the armrest. Without thinking--and more importantly, without realizing--he slips his hand in the other man's. It just felt so right that it didn't register. Perhaps two numbers pass before he realizes his hand is warmer than it should be, but even with the realization... he doesn't move.

This is bad, real bad, but Apollo hasn't exactly moved either. It couldn't be as bad as his (non-computer part of his) brain is shouting.]

[ Apollo, on the other hand, absolutely 100% definitely does notice. Surprised, his gaze darts from the stage down to the hand that fits so perfectly in his own, so naturally, that it feels like it should have been there all along. Outwardly he doesn't react but that serene exterior hides a fanfare of emotion, from giddy delight at the simple pleasure of having Midnighter's hand in his own, to the cold curl of guilty dread that nestles in the pit of his stomach. This is bad, this is really bad, but it's also the single best thing that's happened to him ever since he arrived in this ridiculous world.

And M... M seems to have not noticed? Apollo only just manages to bite back an incredulous laugh at the idea of the big, bad Midnighter, the one who sees all the angles and knows how every situation will play out before it even begins, being betrayed by something as simple and soft as a wandering hand. How ridiculous. How amazing. Apollo's sure he loves him just for that alone.

So he waits and waits and finally Midnighter realises what he's done. Apollo, knowing that he's realised, finally laughs abruptly (covered by a well-timed swell in the music). ]

Took you long enough.

[ Not that Apollo's letting go of Midnighter's hand just yet. ]

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