Archive of Our Own

Ethan got his pint from the bar, eased through the sparse crowd and grabbed himself a seat with a clear view of the stage. Wasn't hard getting some space to himself – he fit in here much the same way Ripper did in any of the places Ethan favoured, which is to say not at all.

Diedre grabbed a seat next to him, wearing her own face, but still with a tingle of magic about her.

"Dee... whatever you're wearing, I have to say it is the most unglamorous glamour I've ever encountered." Ethan sniped, running an eye over her outfit. Jeans and t-shirt, scuffed up boots, black denim jacket slung over the chair.

"You think I have clothes like this in my wardrobe? Please." She flicked her fingers at a smudge on her trousers, frowned until the dirt rearranged itself into a pattern apparently more to her liking.

"If you don't like it, don't wear it." Ethan shrugged.

"And walk in here? I didn't think we were actually trying to start a fight tonight."

"Not before the bands play. Ripper'd kill us."

"So you try and fit in." Diedre shrugged in turn. Then looked Ethan over. "Or some of us do. You couldn't have toned it down a bit?"

Ethan, as usual, was wearing more eye makeup than Diedre ever did. His lips were a dark shade of berry red, matching his shirt, which naturally was open at the collar and for quite some way down. His cream coloured trousers were practically painted on, and the boots were also dark red.

He stretched back in his seat, comfortably on display. "Nothing glitters, nothing flares, and the boots are practically flat. Believe me, dear, this is the dullest my wardrobe gets."

Diedre rolled her eyes and sipped her drink.

Ethan started to raise his, then put it down again, thoroughly distracted. Ripper was climbing up on stage, guitar on one shoulder and some of Randall's drum kit in his other hand. His jeans weren't quite as tight as Ethan favoured, but the view was still worth seeing. Leather and denim, the real deal, every scuff and slash a record of some night on the streets. His Ripper, stepping up so everyone could see how magnificent he was.

Just then a flash went off in Ethan's face, and he scowled and blinked until his eyes cleared again. The man with the camera grinned, either unrepentant or oblivious, happily winding on for another shot.

"Exciting, isn't it?" the man said. He was Diedre's latest, some kind of artist she thought was going places. Ethan had never bothered to remember his name. As soon as Dee figured out glamours wouldn't show up on film he'd be history.

"Exciting?" Diedre queried, waving a hand in the general direction of the denim-clad crowd.

"Yes! To be here at the beginning, real music for the real people." He finished fiddling, then turned around to get a shot of the crowd right in front of the stage.

Ethan leaned over to Diedre. "You know, if he starts talking about how authentic and working class this lot are, I'm not sure I can save him."

Dee made a face of vague agreement. "Art school." she said deprecatingly. "Does terrible things to the mind."

Now he seemed to be headed towards the bar, camera raised. Diedre left her drink for a minute to intercept him. Ethan looked back at the stage, grinning as Ripper came into view again, this time with Randall and the rest of their kit in tow. Dee got back to her seat before they were done setting up.

"I told him to go get pictures of the bands. 'Before they were famous' shots." she snorted. "Because of course, any of this lot will ever get famous."

Ethan looked at her with a wounded pout. "Have a little faith. Of course they will!"

"What, you can see Dan playing to a sold out stadium?"

Ethan winced slightly. Dan played guitar, and also had a van big enough to get all their gear in. His place in the band relied rather more on the latter than the former.

"Alright, Dan might end up the fifth 'Demon'. But Bruce can actually string chords together, and Randall's a born drummer."

"Oh yeah, he's a natural. Hitting things."

"And hitting them again. You've got to admit that's his metier."

Diedre conceded the point with a shrug.

"And then, of course, Ripper..." Ethan continued, with a reverent sigh.

"Of course. Ethan, he's your boyfriend. You aren't exactly objective about this."

"Diedre, since when have I ever settled for second best? Especially in a boyfriend. He isn't just good, he's..." he trailed off again, looking for the perfect word.

"Amazing? Stupendous? Fabulous? Yes, dear, you've said, but I've yet to hear it."

"He is a rock god in the making." Ethan proclaimed grandiosely, then smirked at himself. "You'll see. Or hear, rather."

All finally sorted on stage, Ripper stepped up to the mic and looked out at the crowd. Such as it was. Not exactly a packed house, not even many of Ripper's crowd had turned up. Most people there didn't even bother glancing at the stage. Not quite the rock star experience of his dreams. For a moment he looked... smaller. Like a young man standing in front of a room of strangers, afraid he was going to make a prat of himself.

Then he looked over at Ethan, who gazed back at him with eyes full of heat and promise and absolute belief. He smiled, one of his rare true smiles, and got an answering grin. A deep breath and, larger than life again, Ripper struck a chord.

After their set Ripper jumped down off the stage, walked straight over to Ethan, and kissed him while the applause was still going. Ethan smirked and turned it into a show of itself, and got a few wolf whistles for his trouble. By the time they separated they were both a bit breathless, and Randall had almost made it back from the bar with the drinks.

"So, what did you think?" Ripper asked, beaming.

"Wonderful, as ever." Ethan purred back.

Ripper took off his instrument and leaned it up against the table, then grabbed the chair next to Ethan, on his left as usual. He absently dropped his right hand down to clasp Ethan's left, while he gestured animatedly with the other. "It was a bit of a slow start, but by the end we'd got them. Hear that applause? That was ours." He grinned at Randall, as he slid four pints of beer onto the table.

"Oh yes. We rocked." Randall pronounced solemnly, lifting a glass. "To our first paying gig."

"The first of many." Ripper grabbed a drink and toasted. Ethan picked up another and Bruce got the last, all quaffing in agreement.

"We got paid?" Bruce asked. "So my share would be..?"

"You're drinking it."

"Free beer for the night? Nice one!"

"Not so much for the night. This round would be it. Though I did get them to throw in some crisps as well. Smoky bacon?" Randall enquired, fishing assorted coloured packets out his pockets.

They'd almost finished when Dan got back from repacking the van.

"Thanks for all the help." He sniped. "And for getting me a drink."

The rest of the band looked at the empty table, looked at Ethan finishing his pint, looked away.

"My round then?" Dan sighed in long suffering fashion.

"Yeah." Randall agreed, to much nodding. "Yours. Usual all round."

As Dan walked off, it is possible Ethan smirked. That being his usual expression though, he may not have meant anything by it.

"Diedre, you've been quiet." Ethan observed. "Awe, perhaps?"

Dee smirked and shook her head. "I'll admit, they were okay. With a few bits of good. But not awesome."

Ripper's face fell for only a moment before he pasted his trademark razor grin back on. Ethan pouted enough for the both of them.

"Oh come on, they were brilliant! Especially the vocals." Ethan smiled at his other half, who squeezed the hand he still held under the table and grinned back a bit more softly.

"Ripper can sing." Diedre agreed. "But mostly he doesn't. Most of that was closer to shouting."

Rip shook his head. "Not shouting. Just angry. Expressive. There's too much shit in the world and we aren't putting up with it. If you're going to sing about that it's going to get loud."

"The Who were singing all the same things, but their way sounded better."

"Their way isn't our way." Ripper defended with increasing annoyance. "If you're going to do covers you can't just copy, or you might as well put on a record. You have to bring something to it, a new perspective, a bit of yourself. Add some energy."

"Of course you do." Diedre nodded and smiled, and waved her hand in dismissal. Ripper started to get angry, then shook his head and dismissed Dee in turn. There was no reasoning with her once she went empty.

Dan got back with the second lot of beer about the time the other band of the night got themselves sorted out on stage. The 'Demons' settled in to the back slapping and important drinking phase of the night, and more or less ignored the music as it started up. But after a while they started glancing at the stage, and a couple of songs in Ripper dropped Ethan's hand so he could turn in his chair and actually watch. Ethan sat back and tried to see what the attraction was, a sour look on his face.

Diedre leaned in to talk in his ear. "I take it back. Ripper wasn't shouting. This is shouting."

"And whining."

"And even Dan knows more chords than that."

Ethan nodded in agreement, then leaned forward to talk to Ripper again. "You're a million times better than this lot." He assured him, squeezing his shoulder. "Let's just go. Get drinks somewhere quieter."

Ripper shook his head and shifted his shoulders until Ethan took his hand back. Ethan was not pleased. He grabbed his drink again, finished it, headed to the bar to get another, then loitered on the way back to the table. Ripper still seemed engrossed in the music, even nodding along.

'I don't believe illusion cos too much is real.' Oh yes, that sounded like art. Pretty vacant indeed. Ethan took his seat again with the start of a scowl, but Ripper looked back at him and grinned like he was sharing a joke, so it softened to puzzlement. Ethan pulled his chair closer and leaned on Ripper's shoulders as they listened, and Rip put one hand up to cover his. By now his whole body was bouncing, like the music would pull him out of his seat. It still sounded like empty noise to Ethan, but it seemed to reach Ripper, so he tried to figure it out.

At the end of the set, Ripper popped up out of his seat. He turned and reached for Ethan. "Come on, we can talk to them."

Ethan shook his head. "I'll pass, thanks. You go if you've got something to say."

Ripper looked puzzled for a moment, then nodded, grabbed his bass and headed for the stage. Randall followed him, and they joined a half dozen others with the same idea. Diedre's artist, camera in hand, went over to capture the moment, and soon the scene was lit by flashbulb.

When Ripper got back to their seats he was grinning happily. "They said we were alright too. I've got some names and where their next gig is at. Shouldn't have any trouble getting in."

Ethan stayed politely distant. Diedre had no such reservations. "Whyever would you want to? They sounded like they were torturing cats."

Ripper glared at her, then shook his head. "If you don't get it, you don't get it." he said, and turned his seat about so he was next to Ethan again – and didn't have to see Diedre. "They've got it. The sound. The one that... well, that we were trying for. If we..."

"You bloody say that again!" Came a familiar yell from the other side of the pub, and Ripper looked around, annoyed at the interruption. Sure enough, Randall was getting in the face of the poor git who'd been playing drums for the other guys.

Ripper winced, and shrugged off his guitar. "Hold that, I'll try and calm him..." Randall's fist connected with the other guy's face, and of course the band and their new fans all bundled in. Instant brawl. "...Down. Hell. Right then, get outside and I'll meet you there."

Diedre tossed back the rest of her drink and went, not needing to be told twice. Ethan lingered a moment, as always torn between watching his Ripper in his element or joining in with the chaos. But he had been entrusted with ye sacred instrument, and if some prat fell on it he'd never hear the end of it. He sighed, and headed swiftly for the exit.

He'd been standing out there a couple of minutes before the rest of his lot spilled out onto the street. Thankfully the brawl didn't spill with them, and only Randall seemed to be struggling to get back in.

"Come on, you're not going to let them win are you?"

"Randall, I liked the music. You liked the music. They can't play music if you go around breaking significant bones. Leave off will you?" Ripper explained in his 'talking to idiots' voice, pushing Randall steadily away from the door.

"Liked it? Was alright, is all. You shouldn't let them back us down like this. We're better than them!"

"Randall..."

"Demons rule! Sex pistols? Sex derringers more like!" Randall yelled back at the pub door.

Ethan joined in with the herding and said soothingly "Yes, yes, Randall. I'm sure that would be a cutting insult, were anyone to know what a derringer is."

Randall looked at him in puzzlement, like he'd asked what 'blue' referred to, then looked over the outfit and makeup and remembered who he was talking to. He turned to face Ethan and started explaining in very small words. "It's a gun, right? Like a pistol. But smaller. Really really smaller. Like..." he waved his hands a bit and settled on holding them a couple inches apart. "Little, right? So it's like saying their sex bits are..." he made his small gesture again. "You know?" he finished earnestly, and Ethan revised his estimate of his alcohol intake upwards by several pints.

He patted him on the shoulder and kept him moving towards the van.

"I'm familiar with the concept." Ethan nodded. "But lately have not met anyone who demonstrates it in practice." He leered at Ripper, who grinned back.

Once they'd pushed Randall in with his drums he became Dan's problem. Ripper and Ethan could catch their train home and concentrate on each other.

They ended up in a mostly empty carriage, but it wouldn't have mattered to either of them if it was packed. Ripper was so full of energy he was practically buzzing, and Ethan had been watching him all night without being able to touch. They made up for it now. They got as far as the hall outside their flat before clothes came off, but they didn't make it into bed until much, much later.

The next day Ethan woke alone, Ripper's side of the bed already cold. The light through the window suggested it was still morning, so Ethan's first thought was to simply go back to sleep. But there were noises coming from the front room, just loud enough to keep him awake. In fact they'd probably woken him up in the first place. Annoyed, he rolled out of bed and went to see what was up.

Ripper was sitting on their ratty sofa, a pad of paper on one knee, pages of the stuff already spread out around him. He hummed snatches of music and tapped his foot, then scribbled something else down. He did not, initially, notice Ethan.

Ethan leaned against the door frame and watched for a while, frown building. Then he cleared his throat. Loudly.

Ripper glanced up and grinned. "Ethan. Good morning. I got some ideas. New songs. Want to hear them?"

"Ripper. It is nine in the morning. Nine. O'clock. In the actual ante meridian. The last time I saw nine a.m. I'd been up since nine at night. Whatever's possessed you I hope the exorcism's quick, because I've no intention of staying awake long."

Ripper, damn him, just got this look on his face like Ethan had kicked his puppy. All wounded eyes and innocence. Since when could Ripper do innocence?

Ethan pouted. Ripper looked down at his notes, then pushed them to one side, stood up, and walked back over to his lover. He took his face in his hands and kissed him soundly, until the pout went away. Which didn't take as long as usual. Ethan blamed sleep deprivation.

"I'm sorry, Ethan, I didn't know I was being that loud."

Good. Apologies. Now bed. Ripper pushed him back there gently, as Ethan ran his hands up his lover's arms and pulled him down with him.

Tried to pull him down. Ripper tucked him back into bed, then stood and went back to the door. "I'll be quieter," he promised sincerely, as if that was the actual point, and then he left. Closing the door behind him.

Something was definitely not right about the world.

Ethan actually thought of following him, but he'd been turned down one more time already than he'd been planning on ever again, so instead he turned, pulled the blankets over his head, and tried to get back to sleep. It took an unreasonably long time.

That afternoon, Ripper made some calls then headed over to Randall's to meet the band for rehearsals. Ethan, for once, stayed home instead. Ripper looked confused for a moment, but then let him.

Which turned out to be typical of the next few weeks.

Ethan was annoyed. Worse, Ripper didn't seem to grasp the depth of his annoyance, let alone the cause of it. The whole thing went way beyond pouting. Ethan was fuming. And the more he heard of this new musical direction the less he liked it.

One evening Ripper and Randall came in, noisily, bouncing off the walls and each other. Ethan stepped out of the kitchen in time to see the first casualty knocked off the shelf, one of his potion bottles hitting the floor with thankfully more of a clang than a crash. Ripper looked around guiltily and saw him standing there, scowling.

"Oops?" he ventured, and Randall burst into giggles.

"Oh come on Rip, it isn't even broken yet. Look, all in one piece." Randall demonstrated – by rolling it across the floor with a foot. He batted it back again and started dribbling it across the carpet, a kick between every word. "All – in – one – piece. Hah!" He scooped up the bottle on his foot and flipped it into the air.

Ethan stepped over and grabbed it before Randall got even more creative. Ripper just joined in the giggling.

"You roll in here late, on something, and start messing with the potions. Remind me again why I live with you?"

"I think it has something to do with his cock." Randall pronounced, falling back onto the sofa. "And anyway, how can he be late when it's early?"

Ripper looked similarly puzzled. "It's, like, tea time. I wasn't sure you'd be awake yet. And who says we're on anything anyway?" Asked the man who was bouncing in place like his boots had springs in, while his friend drummed away on the back of the couch. "Aaaaand, since when do you have a problem with that? You know we'll share."

"You're late because the ritual has to start at sunset, and we were going to run through it again first. And drugs mix with magic in interesting ways, but we're doing this one to order and if it turns out too 'interesting' we'll be out of pocket instead."

Ripper's puzzlement hadn't left. "But... we only came back for my bass. We've got a gig. Last minute, someone dropped out. So they thought of us." Ripper grinned widely.

"Because the bloke knows Dan's brother." Randall added helpfully.

"And they've heard about our new sound." Ripper finished firmly. "We're getting a name."

"Yup. Demons. Painted it on me drum kit and everything." Randall agreed, grinning serenely. It was always hard to know when Randall was taking the piss, on account of him also being just that stupid.

Either way, Ethan didn't care.

"Ripper... you know how I feel about you. You know how I feel about your singing. But you also know I waded through miles of actual sewer to get the... goo that goes into this spell and I am not, I repeat not, going to do that again. If we don't do the spell tonight, the whole thing goes off. We have to start again. You have to go fight those Pterisef demons again."

That at least got through, and Ripper rubbed his arm absently where the little bastards had bit him last time. Randall sat up as well.

"Not again. Two feet tall, you said. How hard can they be, you said. The wings are mostly decorative, you said. Decorative my arse. Gliding down out of the roof looking like T-Rex shagged a pterodactyl. We need any more bits of them, we pay someone for them."

"If they could be paid for, we wouldn't be getting so much money for this wand."

"Alright." Ripper agreed, rubbing the back of his neck thoughtfully. "Okay. Ritual at sunset, right? So we could get it done first."

"If it's a quick one. It isn't one of those all night sex things again, is it?" Randall asked.

"Not this time." Ethan said. "And it should be quick. All the time is in the preparation, getting the ingredients, letting them sit. Making sure guests don't think the mystery goo is a puke bucket." Ethan glared at Randall, who shrugged and grinned.

"Right, that one." Ripper said, sounding clearer. "With the bones, and the... stuff. It's a Russian chant, right? Simple?"

"Should be simple. We got it written out phonetically – that means how it sounds like, Randall." Ethan said, patting the drummer on the head as he leaned past to snag a book. Randall half snarled and swatted at the hand, but didn't much mind missing. He bounced up and came to look over Ethan's shoulder as he opened the book. "There. We draw that on the floor, sit in the circle, and chant. Shouldn't take long. If you can remember the words."

"Excellent. I can do that." Randall said.

Ripper and Ethan just turned to look at him.

"What? I can do magic, you know that. I can help with this."

"Randall... you can't float a pencil. You can't see through a glamour. You can do that thing with the water but..." Ethan tried to object.

"When he's on his own, he's a bit basic, true. But have him join in on something and it's like he's the muscle. It all gets easier." Ripper interrupted.

Ethan stared at him. "Been working together a lot then?"

"Nothing fancy. Just... When you get cornered by demons, or you're about to jump in on a bunch of vampires, you take every edge you can get. Distraction spells, or battle stuff. Little things." Ripper tried to explain, and placate his partner. "It isn't exactly together. More like he's there for backup."

Ethan gave Ripper a very hard stare, and Ripper tried to give him a hopeful grin back.

Randall missed the subtleties entirely. "Come on, Rayne. I can pull my own weight. I'll show you."

"Pulling your own isn't the problem." Ethan muttered, then stalked off to the kitchen to get the supplies.

"Randall, roll the rug back and get the table out of the way. I'll do the symbols and you go over the circle again." Ripper told him.

Randall looked puzzled for a minute, then shrugged it off and went to do as he was told.

When Ethan got back with the bucket, Ripper and Randall were already settled into the circle, Randall's lips moving as they memorised the chant. Ethan still had opinions on the idea, but the sun was setting and he could already feel power in the air. As he set the ingredients in place he felt the circle snap closed around them, so there was no more time for debate. He took his place in the rough triangle they formed, Ripper on his left and Randall on his right, and just hoped for the best.

"Daitye nam oopravlenniye. Oopolnomoechtye eta zakleenaniye." Ethan and Ripper began the chant together, used to following each other's cues. Ethan felt the familiar green-cider tang of Ripper's magic join his own and start to flow towards the bones.

Then Randall joined in. "Daitye nam oopravlenniye. Oopolnomoechtye eta zakleenaniye." Well enough said, only slightly out of synch. Randall's magic always reminded Ethan of old ashtrays. Vaguely beige, and smoky. But it joined Ripper's easily enough, and the spell bucket started to glow, which was usually a good sign.

Three repetitions later it was glowing bright enough they all had to look away, and fizzing like a shaken up beer can. Ethan was just starting to get worried when the thing reached critical mass, and the magic recoiled on them all with a sharp crack. They knocked into the invisible barrier of the protective circle and stuck there while a fierce wind blew out from the centre of the spell, then all of a sudden dropped, and the circle with it.

Ethan landed on the sofa, Ripper got thrown halfway through the bedroom door, and Randall fetched up against the coffee table with a thud. They lay there for a moment panting, random shocks of magic still sparking through them.

"Fuck." Someone said, faintly.

Another minute passed.

"So," asked Randall casually, from a heap on the floor, "Is that actually supposed to happen?"

Ethan threw a sofa cushion at him.

"No, it'sss not." Ethan hissed, sitting up with some effort. "And probably wouldn't if you hadn't ssstuck your nossse in."

Then he paused. Why was he hissing?

His tongue felt very strange.

"What'sss thisss?" He poked a finger in his mouth, then got a very alarmed expression on his face, and stuck his tongue out.

And out.

And out.

He rolled the end up in front of his face. It was forked, and very mobile. Right now it seemed to be giving the rest of him the V sign.

"Oh ssssshit." Ethan said, with great sincerity. It was a testament to his current lingual dexterity that he didn't have to pull his tongue in to do so.

Randall giggled. "Ethan speaks with forked tongue," he said in his best redskin impersonation, and grinned.

"Randall ssspeaksss with a mouth full of pointsss. And what'sss up with your hair?"

Randall made a puzzled face and moved his jaw around, exploring his teeth with his tongue. "Ow," he said, then put a hand on his hair, which was pointing straight up in jagged spikes. "Ow! Bloody hell, Ethan, it's all gone sharp! What kind of a crap spell was that?"

Ethan didn't bother answering, having realised Ripper hadn't spoken yet. "Rip? Are you okay?"

There was a groan from the other room. "Oh god, my head." Ripper mumbled, sitting up with the offending organ in both hands. Then his eyes widened and he started patting his hands around frantically. "Oh my god, my head!"

Up to the hairline it seemed basically the normal shape, but rising majestically from the top of his skull were three tapering crests, the outer two only inches tall but the centre one closer to a foot in height, and all of them bright blue.

Ripper scrambled for the mirror in the living room and stood there gaping. The inside of his mouth seemed to have turned black. Ethan joined him to survey the damage, and found the crests felt a bit like felt covered in superglue, hard but made up of hair. When he pushed on one Ripper's whole head tilted. "Doesssn't look like they'll come off easssy." Ethan muttered.

"Come off, hell. They have to change back." Ripper muttered, a mixture of panic and murder in his eyes. "I can't bloody stay like this!"

From behind them came a faint clank as Randall rooted around in the bucket. "On the plus side," he said, pulling out a long stick with odd patterns moving on it, "It looks like we got our wand."

Ethan looked at it and his eyes narrowed. "And sssuddenly I'm wondering why that old bassstard wasss ssso happy to sssell us that ssspell."

"Said he couldn't get the parts any more." Randall shrugged.

"And he didn't hire usss to get them for him becaussse..?"

The guys all looked at each other, then back at Ethan. He went to grab the phone.

A short yet decidedly sour conversation later, he slammed the phone down with a crash.

"You know, it's really weird hearing you swear with that tongue in." Randall observed, with his usual adept people skills. "You start saying 'bastard' and it takes half a minute to get to the other end."

Ethan glared at him, and stuck his tongue out to make an eloquent gesture for him. Then he sucked it back in and turned to address Ripper.

"He sssaysss that if none of usss hasss tried to eat anybody yet, the changesss will wear off."

There was a short pause to digest this, and then Ripper lost the panic entirely and just looked ready to kill somebody. "They bloody better. They bloody well better. Or he'll be first on the lunch list, for something. I'm sure we can find a good nest to throw him into. Maybe even Pterisef. Let him see how he bloody likes it. Bastard!" He lashed out at the bedroom door, that being the easiest bit to replace, but this time didn't put a fist through it. Quite.

"So, what, we wait then?"

"Couple of daysss, maybe one." Ethan shrugged. Randall looked grumpy about it, and Ethan still halfway blamed him for the backfire. "Cheer up. You wanted to do sssome real magic. Well, here it isss." He gestured at the three of them, and the wand Randall still held. On reflection, not the best place for it. Ethan stepped over and grabbed it, then set it carefully on a shelf.

"Remind me again why that thing is worth this?" Randall asked, going to slouch on the couch.

"Because even split three ways it'll pay the rent." Ripper sighed, going to sag down next to him, rubbing his face. "Though that might seem a bit inadequate, if we're stuck like this."

Ethan considered the prospect. He looked his lover over, blue hair and all, and licked his lips. He smirked slowly. The man was still Ripper, everywhere that counted. Still absolutely gorgeous. And as for himself... Okay, the hiss was annoying, but he could probably get rid of that with a bit of concentration. And a tongue like this had... possibilities.

Seemed like time for Randall to go home.

Right then the phone rang, and Randall grabbed it without thinking. "'Lo?" he said casually, then looked puzzled. "Dan? What... no, we're still at Ripper's... yeah..." wide eyed suddenly, sat up straight. "Course we didn't forget." he glanced at Ripper, who did the puzzled-shocked-swearing sequence and went to grab his instrument. Then he stood there looking a bit lost.

"It's just... Dan, there might be a tiny bit of a problem. Like maybe we can't..." Randall didn't get to finish the sentence, just pulled the phone away from his ear and sat there waiting until Dan wasn't loud enough for Ethan to hear on the other side of the room. Then, gingerly, he put it back to his ear. "Right... right, yeah, I'll tell him. Ripper, he says we have to turn up. He says it's the break of a lifetime. And he says he already took the money, and it'll be the breaking of something else if we don't show." Ripper glared, and Randall raised his hand to ward him off. "Hey, don't look at me, I'm just the messenger."

Ripper strode over and took the phone. "Listen, Dan. You don't threaten us. You never threaten us. You want to know why they call me Ripper?" he growled, and Ethan got happy shivers. Then Ripper sighed and changed tack. "Alright, so they told you that. They try anything like it, we'll stop them. Simple. What? Okay, yes, it would be a bit difficult from here... You what? There already? Great. Just... great."

Ripper sighed, glanced once at the mirror, then shook his head and made a decision. "Right then. We're on our way. But if they try anything shady, I don't see why we should... Sorry, say again – there's how many in the audience?" Ripper looked impressed. Then he grinned. "Well then, that's different. We'll be there, soon as we can. Just sit tight. And don't worry, they break anything of yours, we'll do them right back." Ripper hung up, obviously considering that to be reassuring enough.

He turned to the other two, looked at the state they were in, looked again at his own reflection in the mirror. "Alright then." He slung the bass into position and struck a pose, and the grin upgraded to patent Ripper sharpness. "We are going to be legends."

Ethan stood there and stared. The man was mad. Quite, quite mad.

But then, wasn't that half of why he loved him?

"Of courssse you are, love. Of course you are."

Then Ethan's eyes narrowed as he got an idea. "In fact... come through here a minute will you?" he said, heading for the bedroom.

"Come off it Rayne, he doesn't have time for that." Randall objected.

Ethan replied absently, "'That' would take rather more than a minute." He headed for his dressing table, with the triple mirror and all his assorted makeup. Ripper trailed in after him, guitar swung around for ease of movement. Instead of taking a seat Ethan started hunting through drawers.

"What are you up to?" Ripper asked curiously.

"If we're going out, I've got to put my face on. So, it occurred to me that I could do something about yoursss."

"Too late for that." Randall opined wittily from the couch. The others ignored him.

"My face isn't the bit that's gone colours."

"Exactly, my dear, exactly." Ethan said, tugging him to sit down and look at himself. "Now I ask you, is that the face that goes with that hair?"

"What goes with this hair is a muzzle full of teeth, Ethan. And blue scales."

"But on you it will be all about style, a statement if you will. What does it say if you leave it half done? Trust me, love, if you're going to ssstand out anyway, go all the way."

"Which philosophy explains so much about you." Giles muttered.

Ethan grinned and kissed him, quickly. "Lean back, and relax." He collected colours from all over the desk and was ready to begin.

When the three of them got to the club Bruce and Dan were already there, backstage and ready to go on. When they got their first look at Ripper, jaws dropped.

"You have got to be kidding," Dan said faintly. "That is why you're damn near late?"

Ethan had outdone himself. The eyeshadow stretched from one side of his face to the other, blues and greens shaded together in grand sweeps. Eyeliner added wide black bands. Dark blusher hollowed out his cheekbones and the very darkest lipstick Ethan owned shaded to black around Ripper's grin.

"Well?" he asked. "What do you think?"

Bruce sighed. "I think, if you're going to change our look right before a gig, you could have at least told us on the phone. Got any hair spray left?"

"Not halfway enough." Ethan said. He'd brought a bag of essentials in case of last minute touch ups, and got it out now. "But there's eyeliner and colours, if you don't mind sharing."

"Right, then. Not as much as him, but enough to show up at the back. And we better be quick."

They headed off for better light together, Ethan in his element.

Dan just stared.

"No way. Just... no."

Ripper shrugged. "Fair enough. Your choice. Just, sort of hang back a bit. You know, out of the light. Wouldn't want to look silly, would you?"

Dan was still gaping incredulously when the other two got back, and it was time to go on.

Ethan hadn't expected to enjoy the new music. Ever since they'd heard those Sex Derringer guys they seemed to have given up on the concept of tunes. He'd heard Ripper droning and shouting enough bits of it at home he thought he knew what to expect. But it was an entirely new experience on stage. Ripper walked out there as if he owned the place, never mind that the whole room full of people were expecting someone else. He was the greatest. That, Ethan expected. But the crowd's reaction was something else. To start with there was muttering, even a hint of violence, but once the music started it all changed. Ripper took that energy – that anger, resentment, even disdain – and gave it right back to them with a beat and high volume. Up there on stage his angry, chaotic, 'Demon' lover was the voice and image of what they were all feeling, and he had them all from almost the first moment. The whole room full of people bouncing, pushing, jumping to the music, to see him, to hear him, because of him. And Ethan got it. He still didn't like it, but he got it, and hell yes he enjoyed it. All these people, seeing his Ripper the way Ethan had always seen him, magnificent and in his element. And only Ethan got to take him home.

Bloody perfect.

That night Fred drove them all home, partly because it was close enough but mostly because they didn't want to lose the energy, the high they'd made on stage together. They spent the whole drive talking about the gig, and what they'd do next time, and how the lot of them would kick over the establishment and be the icons of a new generation. When Ethan and Ripper got let out at their house Ripper was still humming and bouncing away and he took the steps up to their flat two or three at a time. Ethan followed more at a leisurely pace, happy to watch him go.

Once inside, Ripper stored his bass carefully in the corner. "It really all came together tonight." He stripped off his leather jacket and put it over the arm of the sofa next to the guitar. "The music, the lyrics – I think even this dinosaur hair really worked for us."

"I had people asking how we did it." Ethan agreed.

"Did you tell them?"

"Only the really annoying one." Ethan smirked. "Mostly I just said superglue."

Ripper grinned. "Thus dooming them to A&E when they get their hand stuck to their ear." He shook his head, wiped absently at the sweat on his face, then just pulled up his t-shirt and rubbed himself dry. He peeled the thing off and over his head – mildly hampered by the extra height – then rolled it up and pitched it vaguely in the direction of the laundry heap. Then he saw Ethan watching him. "What?"

Ethan looked him over – steel toe boots, ripped jeans, lean muscles and badly smudged makeup, all smelling of sweat and smoke. He closed the distance between them in two steps, grabbed his lover and kissed him until they were both panting for breath. When he stopped he had one hand trying to get a grip on Ripper's new hair and the other just inching down the back of his jeans. Ripper looked at him, slightly dazed.

"It's a good look on you." Ethan explained, still smirking, just about.

Ripper ran a thumb over Ethan's lips, with the now no doubt extremely smudged lipstick, and smiled. "You would think so." he agreed, then moved in to kiss him again. He walked them gently back into the bedroom, not letting go until they bumped up against the bed, and then there was a pause for hurried disrobing. They tumbled onto the bed together, naked, and...

*Thud* "Ow."

"Move down a bit."

"There isn't that much of a bit to move. I'm six feet tall even without the hair you know."

"Well then try being sideways... hang on, you'll hit the records... okay, diagonally?"

By now Rupert was giggling, a sound Ethan was fairly sure no one else in London ever heard. It bounced through the both of them in all kinds of fun ways, and Ethan leaned in to just kiss him on the neck and hold him. "Alright, so this spell worked out a little more awkward than I thought."

"Because you didn't think foot tall hair or teeth like a piranha was awkward at all?"

Ethan shrugged and leaned back to look Rupert in the eyes again. "Mostly, I was thinking about the tongue." He licked his lips with the forked end for demonstration, then unfurled it to it's fullest length, and licked a long, long stripe up the centre of Ripper's chest, without bending down or breaking eye contact.

Suddenly Ripper was entirely focused, and fascinated. "That... is either quite disgusting, or very, very interesting."

Ethan licked a slow circle around one nipple, then pinched it with the very dexterous fork.

"I'm definitely leaning towards interested," Rupert observed.

"I can tell." Ethan smirked and, dipping his head just enough, he teased his tongue over the tip of Rupert's... interest.

"Oh... yes. This... this is interesting."

"Lean back," Ethan whispered, turning them so Rupert would land on the pillows, "And relax..." he finished with a deliberately exaggerated hiss.

Rupert grinned, and did as he was told. "That's worked out well so far tonight."

Ethan grinned in return and flicked his tongue out to taste the new scents they made. "It getsss better."

Later – much, much later – they found Ripper fit in the bed perfectly, curled up around Ethan, who rested with his head on his lover's chest, listening to him all night.