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He’s not the type of lady who’s choosy with his bender venues.
No, he’s the type of lady who just wants to nurse his three fingers of whiskey in peace, try to forget the past twenty years after the tenth drink kind of gal, and if Cecil and Cass treat him out to a night at Vicky’s, then he’s definitely not gonna turn it down.
At least, that’s how it started.
Juno didn’t check his comms regularly. It was new, and he didn’t necessarily know what to do with it. Yet.
After… the funeral, Mick stopped trying to pester him through it and Sasha never really wanted to, even though they all exchanged contact information when they got it for… his birthday.
He downed his drink and tried to push his sobriety down.
So, that meant that he was past halfway drunk when the dancers left their windowless VIP room and had no idea what time it was. Cass was…
Juno put his empty glass down and looked around the dimly lit room, ignoring the sluggish way he was moving to lean down and check under the table.
Where the hell did Cass go?
“Looking for someone?”
Juno let out an undignified yelp, then glared at Cecil, who was sitting too close but not enough to cause discomfort, even in Juno’s franker and meaner inebriated state. “Jesus, man, give a lady a warning.”
Cecil laughed, loud and boisterous as always. “Oh, Juno. I’ll wear the collar with a bell next time.”
Juno continued glaring at him, until he went back to look for Cass. “Where’s your sister, C?”
“Oh? I think she followed that last dancer out.”
Huh.
Juno turned back to look at him, squinting. “What, never heard of personal space up there in Phobos?”
Cecil leaned back into the cushioned seats, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, or why you’re interrogating me all a sudden, Junebug.” The slurring, short statements told Juno that either Cecil was soused or near the tipping point. Usually the man never shut up about himself and tried to boost his intellect by talking and talking.
Either way, Juno rankled at the nickname but the insinuation that he’d interrogate a friend rankled more. “That doesn’t even make sense, C. I wouldn’t have that kind of—”
Cecil waved him off. “I have… researchers to do that, Juno, I don’t have to," he waved his hand, "make sense.”
And wasn’t that just something. Juno’d hung out with the Kanagawas for the hell of it, most days, because they seem like they appreciated a good time. Sometimes the reminder of just how much wealthier they were irked him, because they brought it up almost all the time. Cass, especially, loved to make comments about Juno’s wardrobe choices and haircuts, even though she always seemed to want to emulate the natural grungy look Juno had formed from years at the Pour ‘n’ Floor and Oldtown.
Cecil was more subtle about it, constantly bringing up perks like he just had.
Juno hated Cecil’s cajoling more than Cass’s. He met enough rich snobs at the academy to know that this was just the class guilt manifesting, of course, but he really didn’t appreciate it when he had this nice buzz going on around what he’d consider okay friends.
“That’s real nice, Cecil.” He scooted away from him. Knowing Cecil, he’ll never take the hint, even if he was a genius.
Cecil pouted, and looked like he was about to say something that would make Juno want to punch his lights out (which, to be fair, was probably every time he opened his mouth). But then, he started saying, “Juno, Junebug. You know… it’s been. Been a nice couple’a months knowing you. I still remember that… That first time you hit me in the face with my sister’s hovercycle keys.”
Juno did too. Cecil didn’t know him enough then and didn’t now, but his ‘researchers’ probably told him about Juno’s near perfect shooting scores and hand-eye coordination.
History, Juno thought, was made of a lot of first throws. Bricks, Molotov cocktails, nuclear bombs, Cassandra Kanagawa’s hovercycle keys.
Oh, that was pretty epic. He made a mental note to do some research on historic throws in his free time.
Cecil was unfazed by the zoning out. That was all well and good, because Juno tended to do that when he was past half drunk. “And you know, you have just the face fit for a stream, so rugged, yet so charmi— charmfu— handsome.”
“Gee, you really know how to flatter a lady, Cecil.”
“And your smile. Your wit!”
Juno scanned the table for at least some kind of alcoholic beverage, anything to just deter Cecil from his drunken flirting without outright punching the guy. After all, this was all on his tab.
“You’re amazing, Juno Steel, I’ve never, ever seen anything like you.”
Juno snatched up a partially empty jug of what he knew was the good kind of vodka and didn’t even hesitate to pour it into his glass of what was once whiskey.
“Are you listening?”
“Sure, C.”
“Then, Juno,” there was a crinkle of plastic being torn open, then some excessive fumbling, “will you make me the happiest man on Mars?”
Juno took a sip of his vodka traced with whiskey (nasty), shrugged, then drained his glass. And when he looked back at Cecil, he was…
The door to their VIP room opened. In came Cass, who took one look at them, cursed, then walked back out.
“Juno?”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Cecil?” Juno deadpanned, glaring down at the vintage Ring Pop, half out its oppressively bright plastic wrapper. It was probably centuries old and fuck if Juno wanted to try it at least once, one lick of that thing would probably kill him if it was preserved by someone like Cecil.
That seemed promising.
“Why, I’m proposing, Junebug.”
So he was.
“Is that a real Ring Pop?”
Cecil blinked, then looked at his Ring Pop and said, “No, I found the res— resee—hm, I found a guide and made it myself.”
Huh.
Juno took it, then popped it into his mouth without much thought.
It tasted… odd, sweet. The wrapper said it was grape, but he’d tasted cloned grapes before and this just tasted… purple. Either way, it kept him from saying No one’s ever done that for me before.
“Is that a yes?”
He could play along, he supposed. He’ll regret it in the morning, probably call it off somehow if Cecil somehow got this on contract in triplicate the moment Juno popped the ring into his mouth. From her reaction, maybe Cass had a good idea how he could do that, or maybe Rita could do him a favor if he bought her one of those snacks she liked.
“It’s not a no, Cecil.”
The resounding shrill shouting that came after made Juno regret it almost immediately, but the Ring Pop in his mouth was too… okay for him to open his mouth in protest.
Was the candy laced with something? Maybe he should have thought of that before popping it into his mouth.
Hm.
Eh, he’ll try anything once, he guessed.
Cass came stomping back in, giving Juno an incredulous glare that seemed to say a lot of things, chief among them was What the hell do you think you’re doing, accepting this proposal.
Juno shrugged.
“Oh, Junebug, we’ll get married tonight! I have just the dress for you, but I don't know if I could find a park available this time of night.”
Juno popped the ring out with his middle finger. “That’s ‘cause they're all closed, C.”
Cecil ignored him, which was really just par for the course. Nothing really barred the Kanagawas from anything they wanted.
Cass stayed by the door, still glaring as Cecil shoved past her.
“What the hell, Steel?”
“He’ll get over it before morning, Cass, it’s no big deal.” He grimaced at the aftertaste that came after a few seconds without the Ring Pop in his mouth.
“No big—” Cass huffed, then groaned as she threw her hands out. “He actually likes you, Juno. You know that, you’re not that big an idiot.”
“Then it’s his loss,” Juno dismissed, pushing himself out of the booth to make his way out of the VIP room. “He’ll get over me, Cass. Everyone does every day.”
Cass rolled her eyes, unimpressed by his pity party. “Easy for you to say, you’re not the one who has to live with him.”
“And ain’t I just lucky?”
“Junebug!”
“Well, would ya look at that, my fiancé’s calling.” Juno gave Cass a shit-eating grin, before popping the ring back into his mouth and leading the way around dancers and patrons to the entrance.
The limo the Kanagawas used nowadays since the Cass’s incident with her hovercycle was parked out front, flanked by a bunch of cousin-and-half-sibling bodyguards. Cecil was digging around by the trunk.
He pulled out a dress cover on a wire hanger, holding it out in front of Juno. It had a red dress inside, one that matched the bralette Juno was wearing under his jacket right now.
“You had a wedding dress in your trunk?”
Cecil wobbled up (Juno wasn’t giggling at how bad his coordination was, he wasn’t, you can’t prove anything), looking satisfied. “Duh, I’m not an animal, Junebug.”
“Quit calling me that.”
“Oh, but we’re going to get married. I can’t just keep calling you Juno, that would be count— cuh, huh. Hm.”
Juno leaned in to whisper the word Cecil was supposed to be using to Cass. “Counter… productive?” Cass repeated, in doubt.
“Yes, that,” Cecil beamed. “You… are so smart, Cassie.”
Juno snorted. “One of us has to be, C.”
Unceremoniously, Cecil threw the dress at him, then pushed him into the limo.
Juno didn’t resist much, knowing there was enough space inside the limo to change, but when he got in and felt how warm it was in there, he wanted to just pass out and sleep.
Soon enough, Cass thought of that so she got in after him.
“Get dressed, Steel.”
Juno groaned, sinking down further into the seat.
“Hey, you’re the one who said yes,” Cass teased, reaching for him. “C’mon, arms up, get your jacket off.”
Juno shoved her off, pouting. The candy on the ring was small enough now that he could shift it around his mouth to garble out a sharp, “I can do it myself, Cass.”
“Sure, bud. Get to it.”
Juno got the top on, easy, but shoving his pants and boots off and wrapping the sari was harder than he thought it was going to be with the alcohol in his system. Being short and having Cass was more of a help than he thought it was going to be, for once.
Cass knocked on the window, said something Juno didn’t catch, then scooted into Juno’s space.
“For real, Cass, don’t you guys have personal space in Phobos?”
“In our economy, Steel, private property is a privilege.”
Juno made a face at her.
Cass took a few pens out of her pockets, non-toxic paint pens that Juno knew were high-grade just by the sheen on the steel of its cartridge. He’d seen a couple of those buried in Sarah’s wardrobe, once upon a time, when she used to get off work and sit Juno and… sit them down in their bedroom, draw on the walls with them until they ran out of space.
He remembered it less vividly than the last bedtime story she told them, but it was up there in his head somewhere.
Cass popped the cover off one of them. “Don’t move. I’m doing the henna on just your feet. You okay enough to do the ones for your hands?”
Juno hummed, grabbing one of the other pens from where Cass let them drop between them.
He liked doodling designs and patterns like these, the motions calmed him down. And the Kanagawas drove smoothly enough that he didn’t even notice they were moving while Cass was painting ticklish designs onto his feet.
“You ever thought you were gonna get married?”
“Mmh,” Juno flicked his wrist for a sharp point effect, then leaned back to look at his design. “This doesn’t count but, no. Not really. Haven’t gotten serious with someone before. I don’t…” think I deserve it. “I dunno if I’m fit to be a spouse.”
“Why not? Gotta try everything once, right?”
He bit down on the candy, feeling it separate in his mouth. “Is that an offer, Cass?”
“Real funny. I know you don’t got an eye on either me or Cecil.”
Hm. That was true enough.
Capping the pen, he waved his painted hand and tried not to flex it too much to dry it properly. When it was sufficiently dry, he laid it down on his knee, feeling the breathable cotton fabric under his fingers.
It was a nice dress. Out of everything in this whole ordeal, Juno probably disliked it the least.
Extracting the ring part of the candy out of his mouth, now separated from the whole, he popped off the cap again, then grasped the pen on his now-dry hand to start in on the other.
Cass paused, looking at him work.
“Take a picture, Cass, it’ll last longer,” he mumbled, not looking up from his work, trying his best to mirror what he’d drawn on.
“Didn’t know you were ambivert.”
“A what?”
“You know, when you can use both your hands?”
“I think that’s just called being born lucky, Cass.”
“You know what I mean.”
Juno relented, “Ambidextrous?”
“Yeah, that. Didn’t know you could do that.”
Juno sighed through his nose as Cass continued on his other foot. “I didn't pop out like this, really. I had to learn when I was in middle school. Used to break my right hand every other week whenever…" He sighed again, dismissal on the tip of his tongue but Cass didn't let him.
“Benten?”
God, he missed him. A phantom ache flared in his consciousness, the same one since the funeral.
Juno blinked a few times, nodding. “He got in a lot of fights. I had to learn how to use my left hand to copy any homework he owed me.”
“Sounds like you had some fun.”
“It was pretty okay.” His voice was breaking. Barely above a whisper, he said, “You shoulda seen the other guy.”
“What, your brother? Didn’t you say he threw a meaner right hook than you did?”
Juno rolled his eyes. A tear fell rapidly on his cheek, and down onto his bright, vivid wedding sari. He sniffled, but Cass didn’t say anything. She was pretty alright. “He can throw a good punch just as much as any person who grew up in Oldtown, Cass. He’s not special.”
But he was.
Juno was not drunk enough for this. He let out a breath threw his teeth, sniffling.
Soon enough, he was done with his other hand and wrist, which didn’t look identical, but it was alright enough from a distance. He glanced down at Cass’s work, careful to keep himself from wiping the fluids running down his face with either of his hands.
Cass’s designs were pretty good too, all things considered. “I didn’t know you were an artist, Cass.”
“Eh, I’m pretty okay. Wanna henna your face?
Juno squinted. “I got work tomorrow, Cass, no thanks.”
Cass shrugged, “Well, do ya need to powder your nose?”
Juno blinked, then, looked around almost frantically. He didn’t remember if he brought his bag with him when they got out of the VIP room at Vicky’s. He had his credit chip in there, and his—
“Relax, bud, I got it right here,” Cass reassured, holding his bag up to him. “Do you need any help with it?”
Juno sighed in relief, then shook his head and went to wipe his tears and snot off and retouch his makeup appropriately.
When they got to the park Cecil said they were going to do the ceremony in, Juno didn’t notice. The door just popped open right as he finished folding his clothes into a neat enough pile.
Cecil was dressed in a standard suit, a maroon to Juno’s red. He helped him out of the limo, and Juno struggled to sling his bag over his shoulder, pinched at the pins keeping the fabric hooding him from falling off his head, trying to prevent his boots from hitting the bright red skirt of the sari. It all looked so expensive, felt too odd to be good on is skin.
His boots had drying mud on them.
The pavement was dry, when he stepped onto it, thankfully.
Juno shuffled his clothes in his arms and looked around.
They were… at Halcyon Park.
He knew.
He remembered that pathway.
It looked old now, worn, barely illuminated by the old yellow garden lights as he stared at it through the opened, rusting gates. It’s been barely a few months since he’s been here, since— And he was sure that if he turned around, he’d see their old apartment complex—
Juno sucked in a breath and tried not to let show that he was breathing heavy, panicked.
No.
Hell no.
Cecil didn’t notice, but if Juno stayed long enough, Cass would, and then where would he be.
He wasn’t drunk enough for this, let alone marrying Cecil.
“Junebug, you can leave your things in the limo, we’ll be quick.” Cecil wasn’t slurring anymore. He’d sobered up on the way here. He was reassuring, a lot less manic than usual.
Juno didn’t even turn to look at him, didn’t acknowledge him. His eyes were burning. He turned on his heel and broke out into a sprint.
“Junebug! Juno!”
There was some shuffling, then Cass shouted after him too. “Juno!”
Juno ran, ragged, wheezing, his traitorous asthmatic lungs. He knew these streets, and knew where he could hitch a ride back to Hyperion, knew that those shuttles ran late because people from Hyperion had to commute in and out of Halcyon and Oldtown this late into the night, however late it was because he still hadn’t checked his comms for the time.
He didn’t stop running, but he slowed down when he couldn’t hear pursuit, and only came down to a jog when he saw the shuttle station.
The automated teller read the time was 3AM, and that the next shuttle was coming in ten minutes.
He could hear a better Sarah tell him and Benten stories about witches in Earthen Europe. Her story whispered into his ears as he wept, swiped his chip for a ticket to Hyperion. He wept, waited.
He was going to be late for work.
The thought amused him. He got up from the waiting area and padded over to the convenience store near it, buying himself a bottle of whiskey. He had the clerk open it for him before he left.
He took off the fabric hooding him, wrapped it around his pants. He shrugged his jacket on, then grabbed his comms and messaged Rita, through tears, to tell Falco that he’ll be a bit late coming in, in the morning.
The shuttle trip was quick enough, but Juno wasn’t going to fall asleep during it. Not after last time. Instead, he nursed his drink, watching the haunted streets of Halcyon blur past him melt into Hyperion.
Maybe he wasn’t lucid enough during that time, but the point is, he got home safely.
“Ooh, Officer Steel, did you do those yourself?”
Juno glanced over at Rita, who was leaning up from her desk to catch a glimpse of his hands.
Right.
The henna was still there.
“Yeah.”
Rita went on and on about some ancient stream she saw about Earthen India, some of which caught Juno’s ear in spite of how little he wanted to care. He didn’t want to remember who told him about his heritage, not with the alcohol still in his system.
He took a sip of the bad coffee the precinct offered and grimaced. He could see his comms vibrating with a call in his peripheral, but he ignored it.
That was the last time he’d ever hang out with the Kanagawas.
