Where's the fun in that?

When a new club opened in Wicked’s Rest, it was only natural that Baz be one of the first patrons there to check it out. It was a necessary thing, really. People expected Baz to know which clubs were worth visiting, so they were really only doing their part by slipping in past the bouncer wearing someone else’s face to opening night. The moment they’d gained entry, they changed back to Sebastian’s face with the same energy as one tightening a jacket around their shoulders in the snow, wrinkling their nose as they made their way to the dancefloor. 

The club seemed like a promising one, they thought. It was one of those themed places, which Baz didn’t typically enjoy, but the giant fishtank full of strange creatures served as an interesting centerpiece, if nothing else. It also made them wonder how long the club would be allowed to operate. Several of the creatures in the tank were recognizable as supernatural breeds, and others Baz didn’t recognize but were fairly certain weren’t the sorts of things scientists knew about. There were people, Baz assumed, who made sure humans didn’t learn about this sort of thing. They’d probably step in sooner rather than later here. 

But for tonight, the party was pulsing.

Baz slid by someone on their way to the bar, shimmying through the crowd with an easy grin. They weren’t really interested in drinking, but it was far easier to flirt at the bar than it was on the dancefloor. They slid next to a man nursing a bright pink concoction, offering him a smile. “Interesting decor, innit? Never seen a lobster that looks like that.”

—

Of course Kieran had been on the guest list. A guest list that didn’t include his name was a list to a place not worthy of his presence - this one at least got off to a good start by making sure the faun attended opening night. Despite all efforts, a club in Wicked’s Rest was still just a club in a small town in Maine, with the supernatural population the only thing it had going for it, but Kieran appreciated the effort. It was cute, and partially well done. Whoever had started this venture had picked out a good group, attractive and interesting looking people either dancing or sipping themed drinks, and the music was decent. 

The aquatic theme was perhaps a bit seventies but Kieran could get into nostalgia - wasn’t that a necessary part of enjoying life when you lived for centuries and watched trends repeat themselves over and over again? At least he could always stay ahead of them, see them coming. Kieran wasn’t made to be a follower. 

It didn’t take him long to find a suitable suitor to act as a follower, though, slipping through the crowds and wasting no time in getting lost in the various tastes of euphoria and simply following the palate that called out to him the most. In this mixed bag of a town, Kieran had annoyingly gotten used to the occasional tug of a nearby fae, usually preferring to ignore it completely, just like now. Following the sweet, cotton candy like taste of joy, mixed with the ticklish feeling of champagne bubbles, Kieran found himself at the bar - and then looking into a familiar face, chatting up the owner of the nice tasting euphoria. 

A smug grin slipped over Kieran’s features, attention barely lingering on Baz as it turned to the man who the faun wanted to taste in more ways than one. But he couldn’t break out his hypnosis right away - that would ruin proving a point to Baz. “Looks sweet. Does it taste as good as it looks?” Kieran asked the stranger, with a pointed look to follow the double entendre as he was not looking at the drink at all while the question was asked. 

—-

Baz ignored the tug in their gut that told them another fae was approaching, though they wouldn’t mind chatting up someone more like them when they were finished with the man who they assumed to be human. They’d never been particularly picky about their choice of companionship so long as there was companionship to be had; Baz would happily spend time with anyone if the alternative was spending time alone. Right now, though, they were interested in the pretty human with the brightly colored drink who was leaning towards them with a smile on his face. 

The man opened his mouth to respond to Baz, but before he could get a word out, another voice interrupted. This voice was unfortunately familiar, and it took all Baz had not to groan. (If Kieran knew Baz was bothered by his presence, he would win. Win what, exactly, Baz wasn’t certain. But it mattered very little. The important thing was that Kieran could not be allowed to come out on top. Unless it was — no, Baz was getting distracted.)

With two attractive fae (though he would not know them as such) surrounding him now, the man seemed a little uncertain, though not unhappy. He glanced between the two as if unsure who to respond to first. “It’s, uh… Really sweet,” he said, looking over to Kieran. And then, to Baz, “And, yeah, the decor is cool.”

“Want to take a closer look at the lobster?” Baz pressed, pointedly not looking at Kieran. “I could stroll over with you. See if we can get up close to the tank, yeah? It’d be grand.” They were playing up the accent a little. They saw the way the man’s eyes darted down to their lips as they spoke, as if he was tracing out the syllables as they escaped the doppelganger’s mouth. Plenty of Americans found English accents charming; Baz would use that to their advantage.

—

It was barely noticeable, to the point of possibly being a trick of the dim lighting or just what Kieran wanted to see (yet wasn’t what Kieran wanted to be true less than a step away from the reality of things, really?) but Baz was frustrated by the faun’s appearance. Sure, Baz liked to think themselves superior, that faun were lazy and didn’t like to work for the things they got to enjoy, which was such a silly cliche. Of course there were lazy fauns, Kieran just wasn’t one of them. Did he like actually getting everything his little heart desired? Obviously. But he didn’t mind having to work for it. In this scenario, it seemed Baz was the one unwilling to work for their treat aside from just batting their eyes. 

The stranger stumbled for a second but impressively regained some of their composure, clearly unwilling to lose the attention of two handsome strangers giving him the time of day. They weren’t award worthy replies but Kieran did take note of who the man replied to first - clearly, someone who could sense a figure of authority. 

To Baz’s credit, they didn’t fluster either, continuing with their own little gambit and… Kieran’s smirk curled a bit higher. Yes, the British accent had definitely grown more prominent. Cheeky. And smart. “The lobsters?” Kieran let out a low chuckle, leaning over the bar to swipe a bottle of tequila from behind it, his body brushing against the stranger’s as he moved. “Sexy,” he added teasingly, playing the other side of the board as he flicked off the bottle pourer spout and took a quick swig from the bottle. “Here I was, about to offer you to help me with this, on the dance floor.” Kieran gave the bottle a small shake, seeing indecision flare in the stranger’s eyes. Oh, he liked Baz’s offer. That was cute. 

“Do you two know each other or something?” the stranger chuckled uncertainly, glancing between the two fae, looking perfectly stuck with two splendid choices on either side (one just slightly more enticing than the other). 

“Or something,” Kieran answered vaguely, tilting his head, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he waited on a decision. The stranger gulped.

“I… I don’t think I’m tipsy enough for the dance floor quite yet,” he said, smiling at Baz. Well, people made bad choices every day, didn’t they? “But I, uh… I wouldn’t mind it if you came with us to check out the tanks?” the man added quickly, turning that smile towards Kieran and oh, the faun so could appreciate an opportunist. “You’d be okay with that, right?” The question turned to Baz and Kieran leaned onto the bartop to flutter his lashes towards the other fae, grin betraying any sense of benevolence. 

—

Kieran was laying it on far too thick. Not subtle and charming, the way Baz was so clearly being — the faun stank of desperation. The doppelganger didn’t scoff (for fear of scaring off their chosen target), but they were sure the look in their eyes would communicate to Kieran exactly how they were feeling. He ought to be embarrassed, really. They hoped he was.

The tequila and the offer of a dance was a decent enough move, because naturally Kieran was not terrible at this sort of thing. But Baz had seen the stranger looking at the lobster tank with interest. He seemed more inclined towards that than the other bits, though Baz suspected he was too polite to deny Kieran’s request outright. He’d certainly picked up on something between the two fae, though Baz doubted he could pinpoint what it was, exactly. The doppelganger waved a hand dismissively along with Kieran’s answer to the inquiry. Or something was probably the best way of putting things.

Of course, Baz’s observation proved correct. The stranger wanted a closer look at the lobster tank… but he seemed keen on Kieran coming along. Probably just being polite. Or Kieran was using that dreadful euphoria power to twist his thoughts on the matter. (It probably wasn’t the latter, otherwise the stranger would have agreed to the dancefloor, but Baz liked the idea of using that as an excuse, anyway.) 

Baz liked that they were asked permission for Kieran’s attendance, though. They plastered on a grin just as fake as Kieran’s and nodded. “Oh, of course. I’m sure Keith won’t mind third-wheeling us a bit, yeah?” Their grin, directed towards Kieran, was sharp, and they stood and offered an arm to the stranger. “Come on. It’ll be grand!”

—

Baz’s feathers were ruffled and whatever interest Kieran had initially held towards the human stranger dimmed considerably in comparison to the giddy joy he felt at seeing his fellow fae simmer. Whether it would end with Baz leaving in a huff, leaving with the stranger or these frustrations leading to something beneficial for Kieran like before, that was a gamble Kieran was keen on taking. Or maybe there was a possibility of this human getting to enjoy the best night of his otherwise unremarkable life - if Baz’s self-esteem issues wouldn’t get in the way. But Kieran was fond of messing with both of them some more before any sort of happy conclusion would be reached. 

Brushing aside how it was almost pitiful, the way Baz lit up at this small gesture of recognition from a human as if this man’s opinion meant anything to them, to any fae, Kieran got to his feet as well. “It’s Kieran, actually,” he corrected, only to the man caught between the two fae, making a point to talk about Baz instead of to them. “Baz is bad with names but they’re just so… animated and cute so it’s kinda hard to hold anything against them.” Kieran chuckled, knuckles brushing against the small of the man’s back as he got blocked in between the two fae. 

“Right,” the stranger chuckled, clearly reading this as banter between old friends instead of the thinly veiled dig that it was. Kieran didn’t actually dislike Baz… that much. He mostly just wanted to see if he could get a bit of rise out of him - that part felt even more important than who eventually won over this human (because Kieran could always take the win there by force if he really wanted to). “Well, I’m Josh,” sweet Josh offered, providing his name to both fae as Baz led the trio to the fish tank - absolutely groundbreaking stuff, there - and Kieran held physical contact as well, just because he could. 

—-

Kieran was being condescending in a way that made Baz bristle inwardly, but they gave no outward indication of their feelings on the matter. Baz had been raised in a house where condescension was the best case scenario, where they were grateful if all someone did was insult them or hurl thinly veiled digs in their direction. They could handle Kieran calling them ‘cute’ in a way that was clearly meant to irritate, could even roll with the punches so long as they remained proverbial. (And they would in this case; Kieran didn’t strike Baz as any more of a fighter than they were themself, and that was a good thing. It was almost fun to exchange blows when the blows in question slipped easily off the tongue and settled beneath the skin rather than bruising the top of it.)

“Oh, my mistake!” Baz playfully smacked a palm against their forehead, shaking their head. “He’s just not particularly memorable, is he? Poor bloke probably struggles to get his mum to remember his name.” That might have been a sore spot. Baz knew next to nothing about Kieran’s background or family, nor were they particularly interested in learning. But if Kieran could offer condescending digs, Baz could respond with potential low-blow insults in turn.

The stranger — Josh, evidently, because people were always called Josh — didn’t seem put off by the clumsily disguised bickering. Probably too taken with Baz’s good looks and sparkling personality, if they had to guess. “Lovely to meet you, Josh!” Baz exclaimed, throwing an arm around the man’s shoulder as they led him over to the fishtank. “Maybe after this, you and I should take a jaunt over to —”

Josh burst into tears. Baz blinked. “Oh! Kevin’s not that bad, is he?”

—

In a continued performance of too much, Baz animatedly smacked their forehead and Kieran was reminded why exactly he was intrigued by the other fae. They were a lot, yes, to the point of it clearly being an act and Kieran liked a well constructed act. He had seen glimpses, just barely, of the tender surface underneath. Of the obvious distaste towards what Kieran could do that Baz couldn’t, spurred on by jealousy or something deeper that Kieran hadn’t and most likely wouldn’t put the necessary effort into unearthing. Baz was spicy, even if it was all hidden underneath a goofy grin and a friendly attitude. Even if they were missing the mark because Kieran didn’t have any sore spots like his fellow fae so clearly did, it was endearing to see them try. 

“I never knew my parents, actually,” Kieran revealed casually, because it would make Baz look bad and humans were always so sympathetic to the whole family dynamic thing. As if Kieran would have been any better off playing human by settling in with parents and siblings. More faun, even if they were superior, would have just become cloying in the end. Kieran would have gone off on his own, regardless. True to form, Josh was immediately sympathetic, turning wide eyes towards Kieran with a soft apology that the faun brushed off. It really was fine, but brushing it off in a way that implied he actually wasn’t fine kept an angle open for later, if he needed to get one over on Baz by playing a bit dirty. 

But he wanted to see Baz squirm a bit more, first. 

Admittedly, tears hadn’t exactly been the desired outcome with Kieran’s little play - was Josh really that hung up on some stranger growing up without parents? Maybe they’d accidentally touched on Josh’s own parent related trauma and ugh, gross. “I’m sure there’s no need for all of… that,” Kieran grimaced, aware that he would have walked away already if not for this unspoken competition between the two fae. Something wet trailed down Kieran’s cheek and was it possible to cry hard enough so that you projected tears onto someone else’s face? No, the moistness was indeed being produced by Kieran himself - his eyes, to be more exact. Oh. 

“What-” His voice cut off, sounding much too choked up for his liking and Kieran attempted to clear his throat to rid himself off the lump that seemed to have formed there. He was crying. Why the hell was he crying? Kieran hadn’t cried since- no, digging into that would not help the current predicament. 

—-

Kieran was good at manipulation, Baz had to give him that. In a way, they supposed, faun and doppelgangers had some similarities simmering quietly on the surface. Both had to learn to use their skills to manipulate, whether they liked it or not. Kieran, like Baz’s mother, had to use his abilities to feed, had to find ways to quietly nudge humanity in the direction that worked best for him so that he could make a quick meal of them. And Baz, like all doppelgangers, had to put on a face that didn’t belong to them and trick the whole world into thinking it did. Neither could exist without carefully spinning up a new version of the world that suited them better than the one that already existed.

It was just a little annoying to have it used against them like this, was all.

Josh turned instantly sympathetic as Kieran noted that he’d never known his parents at all, and Baz wished they could point out that this wasn’t even particularly uncommon for fae. Didn’t plenty of fae have stories of growing up in aos si with no idea which member of the community had actually given birth to them? Or, like Baz, grow up in a community with no genetic relation to them at all? Kieran’s sob story wasn’t even unique! But, of course, Josh was so wonderfully human. He knew nothing of the world of fae, and likely wouldn’t believe Baz if they brought it up. And he seemed so utterly invested in Kieran’s story that he’d likely find it rude if Baz said anything nasty, and the doppelganger did think they could very much enjoy Josh’s company for the night.

“Oh,” they crooned, placing a hand on Josh’s shoulder. “You’re a sensitive lad, aren’t you? Come on, love, it’s all right. Look at him! He turned out just…” Except… Kieran didn’t look just fine, did he? In fact, there were tears clinging to the faun’s long lashes. It surprised Baz a bit. Manipulation was one thing, but vulnerability — even feigned — didn’t seem like the sort of tactic Kieran would default to. In any case, it stumped Baz for a response. 

Strangely, they felt tears prickling behind their own eyes, too. It was odd — Baz often struggled to put a name to the things they were experiencing, but they were certain they weren’t this upset about Kieran swooping in to steal their mark. They barely even cared about Josh. If Kieran convinced him away from them, Baz was fully capable of finding someone else. And yet, there was a tightness in their throat that they recognized from every time they’d ever swallowed tears down instead of letting them rise up to meet their eyes. “I think — Something’s happening,” they gasped, choking on a sob that they didn’t quite understand. “What — ?” 

Around them, they noted the presence of… other people. Baz quite liked other people, and they did notice them often, but something about this felt off. They weren’t the only ones in the crowd crying; in fact, everyone seemed to be. One woman began openly weeping, the sound so loud it filled the room. Surely not all of them were this upset by Kieran’s lazy sob story, were they?

—

Kieran didn’t like this. He vehemently disliked this, actually, and that feeling in and of itself was a feeling he disliked, too. There wasn’t a lot Kieran couldn’t or wouldn’t spin into a narrative he liked but this? No, this needed to end, preferably right now. There was only one other thing Kieran was also certain of - he couldn’t leave. Not before Baz did, at least. “Oh, what a brilliant observation,” Kieran snarked but it lost most of its heat as his voice cracked. It didn’t matter that Kieran knew he wasn’t really sad, the feeling expanded and latched on regardless. The ache in his throat, the pressure in his chest, the burning behind his eyes. Not a familiar feeling, not for at least the last fifty or so years, and for good reason. Why anyone tried to lie and say that crying felt good, the faun couldn’t fathom. 

At least no one seemed too interested in the two fae and their tears, too busy wailing over their own woes. “You might be capable of getting all emotional and whiny but this isn’t me,” Kieran hissed (well, half-sobbed), having grabbed Baz by the arm to pull them in close. He would never admit to it, but the focus of competition with Baz was quite a helpful thing to cling to as his body demanded more tears be spilled and fuck, even as his mind tried to procure memories of other times he’d felt this exact tightness in his chest. Just a few steps away from them, the glass of the aquarium they’d planned to woo Josh over started to crack, unable to contain the steady and heavy banging of the giant clams inside. Water gushed out, spilling over the floor, soaking the shoes of those standing closest, Kieran, Baz and Josh included. And Kieran knew he was crying because of some nonsense that he had no control over (a very eerie thought) but he wasn’t not crying over the fact that his suede shoes were entirely soaked now. It definitely seemed more important than the clams slowly but surely making their way out of the broken aquarium. 

Well. Small blessings, Kieran wasn’t an ugly crier like some of these poor bastards, and Josh. 

—-

The grief tightened around their throat like a noose, and they hated the sensation. Tears could be something beautiful when they were earned, though Baz had never enjoyed them when they felt too real. They liked crying at movies and over poetry; they disliked it when something tangible made their chest ache. And they disliked this especially, this senseless grief they couldn’t name. They didn’t mind being out of control the way some people did, didn’t cling to the feeling of being the person in charge like the lifeline they’d seen others turn it into, but this level of uncontrollability, this feeling of knowing something was wrong but not knowing what or why, was not an enjoyable thing. Even when Kieran teared up alongside them, there was no quiet vindication, no small satisfaction. Baz did not know what was happening, but they knew they hated it. They knew they wanted it to stop.

“I am not whiny!” Baz whined, tears breaking their voice apart at the ends. They flinched a little as Kieran pulled them in close, and they told themself that that, too, was the fault of whatever was causing these heightened emotions. “Whatever is happening, it’s widespread. Look around! Look at —” They broke off, glancing over at Josh. “Actually, don’t look at Josh. That’s… a very unfortunate face to make whilst crying. You know, I’ve changed my mind about him. You can take him home, I don’t want him anymore.” A thin excuse, though not untrue; Baz no longer wanted to sleep with Josh, but it was only partially because of his particularly hideous crying face. Mostly, Baz wanted to get out of here and away from whatever was making them feel this way. 

And, as the fishtank cracked and water spilled out onto their shoes, they added change socks to the list of things they’d really like to be doing.

Were the clams victim to whatever magic was causing this, too? Baz looked at them as they slammed against the tank again and again. The crack grew longer and wider until the tank shattered, spilling clams and water out onto the floor. One of the clams bounced towards a nearby woman, and Baz sobbed at the sight.

—

If Kieran hadn’t been too preoccupied with himself, that is more so than usual, he might have noticed the negative reaction Baz had to being tugged at - as it was, the faun was tempted to ignore most of what Baz was saying and doing in favor of trying to stem the relentless flow of tears. It was entirely fruitless and attempting to do so only made the thick glob of unwelcome hurt at the back of his throat grow in size. Despite being mostly ignored by now, Baz did raise a point that Kieran had mostly come to himself. This was affecting everyone the same, humans and fae, both whiny and not. Josh was spared one final, withering (if teary eyed) glance, his theatrical grimaces enough to put anyone off. “Ew, no,” Kieran moaned, sounding all too upset about it. Yeah, this had to end. Now. 

If only the pure weight of unexplained sadness wasn’t doing this good a job of weighing Kieran’s feet down, making even just the thought of moving towards the exit prompt a fresh wave of tears. 

In a turn of events, the clams that had escaped their containment seemed ready to give the people scattered about sobbing and wailing something to actually cry about. Long appendages appeared from the clam’s mouth or whatever the opening was called, far be it for Kieran to concern himself with clam anatomy or anything even mildly visually related, reaching out towards a very distressed looking woman. Her sad and pitiful attempts to gently whack the appendages with her purse did absolutely nothing to stop it from wrapping around her ankle, slowly but surely yanking her towards the clam. The woman just cried harder, her wails ear piercing at this point. 

Through misty eyes, Kieran took note of one of the clams approaching them now, breath catching on a sob. “You can have him,” he decided, finding the strength to let go of Baz and instead grab at Josh, pushing him towards the ominously approaching clam. 

—-

If there was any saving grace to this at all, it was in the fact that Kieran was just as affected as Baz was. They could handle a bit of humiliation if it meant someone they disliked was similarly humiliated, especially when they were relatively certain that Kieran took more of an issue with all of this than Baz did. Kieran seemed the type to not enjoy having his emotions on display, if only because Kieran seemed the type to prefer to pretend he had no emotions to speak of at all. He’d probably like everyone to think of him as nothing more than a confident sex fiend; this put a wrench in all of that. If not for Baz’s distaste at their own uncontrollability, they might have found it in them to enjoy that just a little.

It was hard to enjoy much of anything in this state, though. And the clams were certainly a problem. They were out in earnest now, tongues (did clams usually have tongues?) shooting out to grab whoever was nearest. Baz watched as the sobbing woman from before was dragged towards the clam’s open mouth, looking away before she made it there and letting out another wail. Though they cared little for the well-being of strangers, they didn’t enjoy seeing violence of any kind, especially not on a large scale. 

Normally, they might have done something more to help poor Josh, who they didn’t dislike even if he had an unfortunately hideous crying face. But today, self preservation took precedence. Baz couldn’t rescue Josh from the clam while ensuring their own safety, and their own safety was far more important to them than that of someone they’d only just met. “We should…” They sniffled, the sound half-lost as Josh’s loud sobs filled the space around them, “We should get going.” As annoying as Kieran was, Baz didn’t want him eaten by a clam. They were certain of that.

—

It was difficult to tell through the general baseline of woe and wailing but did Baz seem uncomfortable at one of the humans meeting their slow and moist doom by the hand of the giant clams? Kieran couldn’t be certain, even with his quite impressive skills at reading people in general - this stupid nonsense of crying his eyes out was a bit too distracting. It did seem like it might have tracked for Baz, who was pretty soft despite their exterior of tough and unaffected. Kieran wouldn’t put it past them to grow fond of humans, a small blessing that Baz wasn’t fond enough to risk their own or even worse, Kieran’s life, to save their less worthy and more fleeting ones. 

Or maybe, Baz was just a squeamish little wimp. They certainly looked the part currently, eyes shiny with the unyielding waves of tears and yes, Kieran was painfully aware he was dealing with the exact same problem but he was also aware that he carried this temporary affliction much more honorably than Baz could even dream of. 

The closest clam was momentarily distracted by Josh’s pathetic crying and hopefully he tasted better than he looked right now, not that the stupid clams deserved anything tasty. Kieran turned to Baz, chest tight in a way the faun hated feeling, especially in connection to the current scenario. It reminded him uncomfortably of a lingering doubt from before, of watching humans (and to a lesser extent, hunters) overtaken by moss, roots, fungi and other plant life, a slow and miserable death, and wondering if they really deserved such a thing. Doubts Kieran had fully rid himself off by now but this current sensation was awfully reminiscent and just awful in general. Fauns weren’t meant to cry - really, a design flaw that they even could. “Oh, you think?” he snapped, which prompted another sob (although letting the sob out did make his chest feel a little lighter, funny that). 

Snatching once again at the sleeve of Baz’s mediocre shirt, Kieran blinked away the fresh barrage of tears and started pushing his way towards the exit. If another clam got close, it would be important to have someone else to shove their way, after all. 

—-

Every person who existed wore a mask of some kind. It was something Baz had learned early on, something they clung to. They were not the only one who hid parts of themself underneath something cheap and plastic, though they were probably the only one who was the mask, the only one who couldn’t exist without it. Still, there was some comfort in knowing that everyone else woke up in the mornings to pull a cover over their face, too. Kieran was no different. He was masking something, just like everyone else in the bloody world. It didn’t matter if Baz couldn’t tell what it was his mask was hiding; it only mattered that they knew the mask was there, that they understood everything its presence represented. Baz was not the only one hiding. Kieran was hiding, too.

So was everyone in the room, all weepy and teary eyed. Perhaps that was the reason for the discomfort in the doppelganger’s chest at the thought of all of them being swallowed by these creatures, because wasn’t it something of a shame to die wearing a mask? Didn’t it suck just a little? If they were braver, Baz might have done something about it. But Baz was not brave, and Baz did not want to die wearing a mask, either, which was the same as saying Baz did not want to die at all. 

Kieran turned away as the clam got to Josh, and Baz did, too. It was easier to focus on the faun, because that was where they wanted their focus to be. They wanted to look at Kieran rather than the clam that was probably swallowing Josh whole, wanted to look anywhere but at the violent displays happening all around them. Kieran’s tone was sharp, and it made the tears flowing from Baz’s eyes come faster and the sobs in their chest to force their way out a touch louder than they had before, though Baz didn’t think there was any sort of actual, genuine emotion attached to it. Plenty of people snapped at them; it wasn’t something that bothered them much.

A hand found their sleeve, and Kieran tugged them towards the exit. Around them, clams busied themselves with the other patrons of the bar. It was easy enough to avoid becoming quick snacks; the two fae seemed to be the only ones who even sort of had their wits about them. They got to the door, and Baz went to shove it open but paused when movement caught in the corner of their eye. A clam was approaching, its tongue at the ready and its attention focused wholly on the pair. Baz shrieked, slamming into the door and dragging Kieran along with them.

—

It was carnage. Not the first and considering his life span, certainly not the last Kieran would be witness to, but never had his cheeks been wet with tears throughout the process of others crying or screaming or even begging. Why would he have cared, much less shed a tear, for those unfortunate enough to pass close enough to the aos sí to need to be silenced? It was natural selection. A shame, perhaps, as Kieran had always been able to imagine a much better use for them, at least the humans, then the simplicity of murder, or returning their bodies to the earth. Whatever nourishment they had provided for him, that he had been allowed to indulge in, had been limited and temporary and why not make use of the fact that they had begged to prove themselves worthy of life? Why not take advantage of how willing they were to serve with the right sort of motivation, not just the threat of death? 

The tight bundle of discomfort in his chest had grown and why the fuck it was dredging up old memories, Kieran couldn’t fathom. Sounds of screaming, perhaps - music was a strong way to induce memories so why wouldn’t these pathetic noises of pain and death be? At least his thoughts gaining a mind of their own hadn’t slowed down Kieran’s push towards the exit and if anything, it had only proved to have him tighten the grip on Baz, still sobbing as they got dragged along. 

Sidestepping some human who was curled up on the floor, body wracked with tears, put Baz in the front as they finally reached the door. Kieran found himself looking away from the pitiful sight and in an unrelated manner, more ridiculous tears squeezed their way out to roll down his face. His gaze caught the approaching clam at the same time Baz did and briefly, Kieran envisioned yanking on the other fae’s clothing to throw them to the clam. Instead, Baz made a very uncharming noise and managed to shove the door open, making an active effort to drag Kieran along with them. As soon as they were greeted by the fresh air, Kieran slammed his back against the door, feeling a thud against the other side as he leaned his weight against it. Within seconds, his mind felt clearer, his eyes dryer, even if that pesky weight inside his torso was still present. Probably nothing a good meal wouldn’t fix. 

The slamming on the other side of the door halted and Kieran cautiously stepped away. The door remained closed. Exhaling, Kieran nonchalantly wiped at his face, clearing his throat to rid it off the uncomfortable lump that stubbornly wanted to linger. “Well. I didn’t enjoy that at all. What a ridiculous establishment.” 

—

The moment they were outside, the tears stinging Baz’s eyes seemed to evaporate. Their chest still felt tight, but it was with fear instead of grief now, because they remained afraid. Their heart was still pounding against their ribcage, their lungs still gasping for air. How could they not be? They had almost been consumed by something they did not understand, had watched others be consumed in their place. They would not really mourn the people who had died in that room, even Josh. It was a shame for them all to go out that way, but better for it to happen to them than to Baz. Better for them to die if it meant Baz was allowed to remain alive, especially considering Baz had known none of them. This was not like Sebastian, who haunted them still. None of the people in that room had ever peeled Baz off the ground in an alley and guided them gently back to a flat to live in, none had ever complimented their latest painting or asked to hear their latest poem read aloud. Baz could cope with the deaths of strangers; they’d been doing that all their life, for as long as they could remember. They’d helped their father bury too many nameless humans to maintain the capacity for mourning them all.

There was a brief pounding against the door. Was it the clam that had almost eaten them, or was it one of the people trying to follow them out? It made no difference. Either way, it knocked against the wood grain only twice before giving up. 

Kieran seemed to recover quickly, but that was no surprise. Kieran was put together and adaptable in a way Baz would never admit to being envious of, the sort of person who could allow things to roll off his back like water from a duck. Baz tried to school their features to at least seem outwardly okay, and did a convincingly decent job. Sure, their heart was still pounding like a jackhammer on a city street, but what of it? Kieran was no bugbear. He could not taste their terror, could not hear the terrified thrum of the blood rushing through them. They could keep the mask up a while longer yet, let it fall when they were home. They did not know if they’d tell Joel of this. They didn’t think they wanted to.

“I’ll certainly be giving a low score on Yelp,” they agreed, fighting to keep their tone casual. If it wavered, they could blame it on whatever energy had seen both them and Kieran weeping in the club. “Do you have any idea what may have caused all that? Certainly something external.” They thought Kieran would agree with that, even if only because he, too, had been affected. “I’d like to ensure I don’t repeat the experience. The clams, I suppose?”

—

As annoying as it was to have a present witness to this whole debacle, one that wouldn’t be taken care of by the clams, Kieran was at least relieved that it was just Baz. He had no care whatsoever what his fellow fae might think of this whole thing, didn’t care whether or not Baz even had an opinion at all on Kieran (although Kieran of course suspected an opinion existed and that it was begrudgingly positive despite Baz’s best attempts). Kieran was in no way desperate for… well, anything, not in the way he sometimes thought he perceived in Baz. Sure, their outwardly confidence was quite the show and their looks not too shoddy but it always seemed as if they wanted to be liked. Not by everyone, they made no effort to try and get Kieran to like them, but with others, it seemed like it mattered to Baz. A grave mistake, letting things matter. At least they hadn’t gotten attached to Jake or whatever the human’s name was - had been? - or Kieran would have witnessed the second death of a fae in quite a short time. He hadn’t mourned for Oliver but Baz getting eaten by a clam would have had even less of an effect on the faun.

Trying to brush off the unwanted emotions as well, Baz piped up with some commentary, their voice still wavering. Kieran might have commented on it if he could have been absolutely certain that his own voice would have held completely steady. “The clams?” Kieran parroted back, thinking it over as he raked back his hair. The tightness in his chest was slowly dissipating, or he was paying it less mind - either way, things were swiftly returning to normal. “They did seem to be taking advantage of the situation. A much less finessed way of feeding than some,” Kieran sighed, gesturing towards himself and fixing the lapels of his shirt, “but sure. Avoiding giant clams it is.” There. As if nothing had even happened and the night was still plenty young. Kieran would erase all of that nonsense in no time. 

“He would have picked me, for the record. Unless tonight was a night he was feeling charitable,” Kieran commented, taking a few steps away from the restaurant, finally feeling steady enough to uphold their little rivalry. “If you’re going to argue, we could always go and find someone who hasn’t been eaten by a clam, prove me right without any room for argument.” Kieran’s eyebrows raised in challenge, both to accept the terms of the game but also to brush off this whole encounter completely. Continue as if nothing had happened - which basically, nothing had happened. Not to Kieran, anyway. 

—-

If asked, Baz would claim — rather adamantly — that they didn’t care what Kieran thought of them. They would scoff at the mere thought of it, would roll their eyes and make some remark about how Kieran only wished his opinion mattered. It wasn’t the truth. The truth, as it turned out, was a much harder thing to swallow: that Baz cared what Kieran thought of them because they cared what everyone thought of them. It wasn’t localized to the faun alone, he was simply caught in the same tsunami of want that swallowed up the whole world. Baz cared what Kieran thought the same way they cared what the barista making their coffee thought, the same way they cared what Sebastian once thought, the same way they cared what whoever’s bed they wound up in for the night thought. They needed Kieran to think about them, even if they didn’t necessarily need him to like them.

Of course, none of this would ever be allowed to slip off their tongue. None of it would be allowed past their teeth, none would be permitted to worm its way into Kieran’s ears. Let him believe the lie they told, even if it wasn’t a very good one. Let him assume they cared as little as he did, because they wished it were true. Let them both pretend that this was all a mild inconvenience and nothing more. It was better that way. “Suppose things like that aren’t interested in finesse,” they replied, rolling their eyes as Kieran turned it into some quiet brag. “Well, maybe you should find more giant clams. Test the theory. I’ll watch from a safe distance.”