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Firo’s feeling awkward. A few minutes ago, Luck turned to Ennis and asked her for a dance, and Firo saw the light in her eyes as she said yes. It’ll be less special now when Firo asks her, and that’s if he can work up the courage to do so in the first place. After all, isn’t that why he’s been taking dance lessons in secret?
Meanwhile, Claire and his bride haven’t left the dance floor since the music began. They’re so happy together. Claire does the talking for both of them, and whenever they sweep past Firo and the Gandors’ table he hears Claire telling a different story. They’re in their own little world. Now, though, Chane slows to a halt mid-song and nods towards the Coraggioso’s restrooms. Claire nods and pulls her close in a brief kiss, and then Firo reads “Come back soon” on his lips and she steps away. Claire plops down in the chair next to Firo to keep him company at the empty table.
“Hey, congratulations again,” Firo says reflexively, hoping it’s not obvious he’s jealous of their happiness. (It’s not jealousy—is it? It’s not quite jealousy.)
Claire just grins, nearly stupid with joy. He watches Chane enter the restroom and stares at the closed door like it’s the gate to heaven. “Thanks, Firo,” he says. “You have no idea how happy I am.”
“No, I can tell.”
At that, Claire glances his way, bashful for a second. “Yeah. I guess it’s pretty obvious, huh?” Then he stretches his arms behind his head and his grin gets a little more mischievous. “Meanwhile, I see that Luck asked your girlfriend to dance before you did.”
Bright red in an instant. Typical. “Ennis isn’t—she isn’t my girlfriend. We just live together.”
“Riiight. So I guess you won’t mind that Keith is thinking of asking her for the next one if you don’t get off your butt in time.”
Firo starts and seeks out the oldest Gandor brother in the crowd. At the moment, he’s dancing with Kate in his arms, the perpetual scowl on his face softened in the presence of her radiance. “You’re making that up,” he accuses Claire.
“I’m guessing,” Claire answers, which is just a different way of saying the same thing. “Why, you wanna bet on it? I’ll bet you ten dollars that he breaks his silence for the second time tonight just to make sure Ennis doesn’t feel alone here, like the gentleman he is.”
“I’m not betting against you, do I look stupid? Aagh…” Firo scrubs his face with his hands. Claire just laughs, more boyish than he has any right to be. He’s twenty-five and, as of three hours ago, a husband—can’t he be a little more mature?
In any case, he’s right. When the song ends, Kate leaves the dance floor to tap the pianist on the shoulder. She takes his place and begins playing something soft and sweet, and Keith offers his hand to Ennis when Luck heads over to the bar. Firo groans.
“Cheer up, Firo,” Claire says, whacking him on the back. “You’ll figure it out eventually. Make sure you get the next one, yeah?”
“Yeah, but…” Just thinking of offering his hand to Ennis as suavely as Keith did makes him go tongue-tied. “How?”
“Just ask!” is Claire’s reply, and Firo’s face is in his hands again.
“Right, I don’t know why I thought you would have any useful advice…” He’s heard the story of Claire’s initial proposal twice in the space of tonight alone, and before the redhead’s first fateful encounter with Chane he watched Claire throw himself into on-the-spot proposals and immediately pick himself up from being rebuffed. The man is not human. Firo tells himself that at least he has the common sense that Claire lacks, but on the other hand, Claire’s the one who’s married now, isn’t he?
Speaking of which. For a moment, Firo frowns. “Hey, d’you think Chane’s alright? She’s been in the bathroom for a while.”
“Aw, she’s fine.” Claire’s eyes are back on the bathroom door. “She said she just needed quiet for a little bit. See how Nice is guarding the door for her?”
Now that he mentions it, Nice Holystone is in fact standing right by the door. Another guest—one of Jacuzzi’s haphazard organization?—tries to get in and she points him towards the exit with the clear instruction to take care of his business outside.
“She needed quiet, huh?” Firo’s been to rowdier events than this one, but Chane certainly does have the air of someone who needs her quiet, and not just because she doesn’t speak. “You don’t think she’s nervous about… er, tonight, do you?”
“Nervous? Why would she be?” Claire is unfazed. “I mean, I know some people get nervous before their ceremonies, but she told me she didn’t feel that way. And anyway, we’re good and married now. Nothing more to be nervous about!”
“No, I mean… tonight.” Firo drops his voice, red creeping up the back of his neck. “Y’know, once you guys head out… on your, er, honeymoon.”
“Oh. Ohhh!” Comprehension dawns on Claire’s face, and he lowers his voice as well. “Nahh, it’s not gonna be our first time, actually.”
Firo’s whole face goes red as a tomato. “You mean you guys have already… you’ve… is that allowed?!”
“Who’s gonna disallow it?” Claire laughs.
“But to do that before you’re married… Cl—er, Felix, you better not have pushed her into it!”
“No way. If someone tried to do that to my wife—oh, man, my wife…” He interrupts himself with a dreamy sigh. “Anyway, any asshole who tried to push Chane into something she didn’t want to do would find himself bleeding, and that includes me.”
He leans his chair back on its hind legs, almost-falling and catching himself repeatedly in a way that somehow comes off as graceful. “Besides, she’s usually the one to get things going. ‘Cause I don’t really care, I guess? Don’t get me wrong, it’s fun and all, and I love being with her, but most of the time it just doesn’t occur to me. So when she wants something, she asks for it, and I’m happy to give it. Honestly, I have no idea if she’s got anything planned for tonight. We might just fall asleep in each other’s arms.”
“…Even that sounds really nice,” Firo mumbles, and sets his chin on his fists. He tries to imagine holding Ennis in his arms but it feels too private, too invasive to even consider. He sighs, shaking the image away with a strange mixture of queasiness and wistfulness, and turns the subject back to his friend. “Still, it’s really weird to hear about you not taking the lead on something.”
Claire shrugs. “Everyone’s got their own pace, you know? And that’s ours. I bet you and Ennis will have one, too. One that’s not like me and Chane, or Keith and Kate, or Berga and Kalia, or whatever Luck’s doing with his life. Maybe slow and steady is just the pace you guys will take. —Oh!” He straightens suddenly, his whole face lighting up. Firo turns his head and sees that Chane has emerged from the restroom. “Oh, man, here she comes. Sorry, Firo, but tonight I’m her man. I guess you’ll have to ask for a dance from Ennis now, huh? Just so you don’t get bored.”
“…Yeah.” He still turns red thinking about it, though.
Claire leaves the table and soon Keith escorts Ennis back to it, chivalrous to the end. Firo finds himself leaping out of his seat.
“Oh, um, let me get you some cold water from the bar, Ennis.”
Ennis smiles a smile that could light up the whole restaurant—at least in Firo’s eyes. “Thank you, Firo!” she says with all her kindness and sincerity. It seems almost like a crime, Firo thinks as he retrieves the water from the bar, to impose on her by asking her for anything. But she was smiling at Luck and smiling at Keith when they asked her to dance, and maybe she’ll smile at Firo when he does it, too, and that is really, truly all he needs for his world to be complete.
He brings the water to Ennis, and she thanks him as he sits down. Silence for a moment. Then he blurts out, “Y-you looked really… um, nice dancing out there.”
There’s that smile again. “Thank you. I’m still getting used to it, but Luck and Keith are very skilled, so it’s quite enjoyable.”
“That’s great.”
Silence for a moment more. Keith, who’s taken a seat across the table and is absently shuffling a deck of cards, gives Firo a look. Firo opens his mouth.
“I was wondering—”
“Yes?”
Ennis turns unsuspecting eyes to him, and his tongue stops working right. He got the first part of the sentence out because it could have ended with anything, but it takes more effort to formulate the rest of his question.
“If you still want to dance some more, I was thinking that once you’ve caught your breath, I’d like to ask you to dance. I’ve been taking lessons and I don’t know if I’m that good yet, but it would make me happy to be your partner—er, dance partner. If you want to, that is.”
“Oh, Firo!”
(The way her face lights up with joy is going to kill him someday, Immortal or not. He just knows it. His brain is just going to shut down entirely with how lovely she is, and he can’t imagine a better way to go.)
“That sounds wonderful. I’ll finish my water, and then I’d love to dance with you.”
“Great! Great. Take your time. We’ve got all night.”
He takes her hand once she’s finished and places his other hand on her shoulder, not bold enough or rude enough to put it on her waist. She doesn’t hold him with the uncertainty of the other students at the dance instructor; instead her grasp is trusting and confident. He loves it. He loves her. They smile at each other as a new song begins—
And together, they begin to dance.