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Firo noticed how enchanted Ennis became with the music. He couldn’t exactly blame her - the singer who came to this speakesy on the other side of New York was beautiful, with hair that seemed so blonde that it was almost silver, and an even more beautiful voice. She was geniunely enchanting.
So Firo just sat down next to Ennis, a bit awkwardly. What to say? Are you enjoying this? No, no, she obviously was enjoying it, what a stupid question. Do you like to sing? Come to think of it, he had never thought of that, and it was doubtful she could sing much around Szilard. He didn’t even need to check the old man’s memories to know this. Should he even talk to Ennis at all? She seemed lost in the singer’s song, it would be rude to break the magic.
Eventually the song ended, Ennis’ eyelashes fluttered, and she looked at him.
“Oh, so you’re finished?”
“Hm?” Firo was confused for a few moments, before realised, that oh, right. He was actually here on a buisness for the Martillo family. Not just to listen to this lady sing. “Ah… yes. It went without a problem.”
“So… we’re leaving?”
Firo was about to answer, when the lady on the stage started to sing again, and Ennis seemingly couldn’t resist glancing that way, so Firo smiled.
“We have time, if you want to listen.”
He actually could have had a lot of things to do, but seeing Ennis’ smile was worth the upcoming all-nighter.
-
Immortals going to war would have raised too much attention eventually, so a reluctant Victor pulled all the strings he could to keep the immortals out of the hell that was going on. It didn’t mean they totally stayed out, though, most of them helped any way they could, without actually fighting. Those were tense times, so it was nice sometimes to go to have dinners at the home of Keith and Kate.
It always changed who could attend and who couldn’t, but there were always multiple people, and Firo liked to take Ennis with him. Sometimes even Czeslaw. Okay, often even Czeslaw, after all, him being there, eased the… awkwardness. At least a little.
Listening to Kate play the piano, and sitting there in their living room after dinner was one of those memories that both Firo and Ennis cherished, even many decades later.
-
Firo didn’t exactly like rock&roll when it first came in. He preferred music to be softer, more in the background, not distracting, loud, not the kind that drags you to dance.
Sadly, Isaac and Miria were very into rock&roll. (Quite probably they were the first Elvis impersonators ever.)
Also, Ennis seemed to enjoy it, and Miria was doing her best to show her dance moves, while Firo shuffled on the side awkwardly.
“So, what are ya waitin’ for? Go and dance with her!”
Firo jumped at the sudden sound next to him, and looked up - only for his eyes to meet big, earnest brown eyes and a wild shock of red hair.
Damn Felix and his soundless steps.
“...I don’t like this music.”
“We all gotta make sacrifices for the ladies we love, Firo.”
“...and I don’t know the steps.”
Felix tilted his head, thinking… and then grinned, with the kind of grin that filled Firo with dread. That kind of grin that usually preceeded exclamations like let’s hide all of Luck’s left shoes, or let’s see which one of us can make Berga jump higher, or maybe i sort of became a professional assassin I guess, whoops.
“No problem! I’ll help!”
No matter how much Firo flailed, and resisted, Felix did drag him to the dancefloor.
Needless to say, Firo never actually asked Ennis to dance to rock&roll numbers with him. At least not until the new millenium.
-
“Guys, I’m not sure about this…”
“This will be totally alright, Firo!”
“That’s right, Firo, that’s what people do! Practice music in garages!”
“That’s why it’s called, garage rock, isn’t that right, Isaac?”
“Absolutely correct, Miria!”
“...guys, we don’t even live in the suburbs, whose house is this even…”
Obviously, the two of them ignored Firo’s protest, as they always did, and Firo looked down to the guitar in his hands.
He had no idea how to play the guitar.
Ennis looked at him, smiling a little.
“I think it looks great in your hands.”
Firo felt his face flush a little.”
“...you really thing so?”
“Yes. Maybe you shouldn’t let Isaac dress you next time, though… and please never let him talk you into having a haircut like that british band has.”
“...you are probably right.”
Maybe Firo just imagined it, but after he smiled back, it was like Ennis’ smile was growing bigger.
Screw it.
He’s gonna learn how to play the guitar, if that’s the last thing he ever does.
-
“Okay. Isaac and Miria can never know this. Not to mention the rest of the family.”
Maybe they were going to a David Bowie concert.
Maybe.
And maybe they were getting dressed up to the occasion.
Ennis smiled, while messing Firo’s hair up even more.
“I think you look great.”
Awesome. Now he was even blushing.
“None of them would ever let me live this down. Ever. And you know how long that lasts for us.”
It was unfair, because Firo felt like he looked ridiculous, while Ennis looked… well, glamorous.
And then she leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Firo’s cheek, which totally made his face redden even more.
It was worth it, in the end.
Of course it was.
-
They danced on their wedding.
Hand around Ennis’ waist, foreheads put together, smile on their faces. It didn’t matter that they had wedding crashes, or the fights that followed. It didn’t matter that Ennis’ dress got ripped, and that Firo lost his tie somewhere, and both of them looked messy.
It simply didn’t matter, at all.
Eventually faster songs also came, and they danced to those too, and Ennis laughed, and looked more radiant than ever, and Firo thought it was impossible to be even more in love than this.
He was wrong, of course.
-
“Okay, but I’d like to officially lodge a complaint about immortality not coming with an anti-hangover guarantee.”
Ennis was just simply sleepy (lucky girl), but Firo felt miserable as he rested his head on Ennis’ shoulder, meanwhile Ronny was smiling smugly.
“Oh what time is it? I think it’s time to ask Randy and Pecho to give us their best Backstreet Boys impersonation.”
“I’ll pay you to not do that.”
“Where were you last night, anyway?”
“Nirvana memorial party. We lost out on actually seeing them live, so…”
Ronny shook his head with a smile, as he lit up a cigarette.
“Well, no matter. You two should head home.”
“Nooo, I have things to do I can’t do that.”
“Firo, you can barely keep your eyes open. Go home.”
-
“I don’t know about you, but I’ll treasure these pictures forever.”
“Luck, give them back, that was just…”
“Just a phase?” Luck was smirking, as he gave the pictures to Berga, who could keep it out from Firo’s reach.
“It was ages ago!”
“Just a few years ago. For us, it’s just a few days, basically.”
Czeslaw was snickering, and Firo glared at him. It was all his fault, either way, he was the one who took the pictures, and now was apparently passing them around.
“I think you looked nice with the eyeliner, Uncle Firo.”
The Uncle part was said very teasingly, and Firo considered the morality of throwing a three hundred year old child out the window.
“I actually agree.”
It was Ennis who said this, who apparently just got home - and god, after all these years, Firo still went red, whenever Ennis complimented him.
-
“I don’t like this.”
“You say this about every new music trend, Firo.”
“This sounds like if you had put a brick in the washing machine.”
Ennis shook her head, smiling, while they passed the night club on the street, hand in hand.
Actually, as usual, his wife had been right.
Who knows, maybe in a few years, he’ll actually enjoy dubstep as well. After all, a few years back, on a retro party, they actually did try to dance to old-school rock&roll music. Try being the keyword, but they had made a valiant effort.
And that’s what counted, right?