Sassy Since Birth

He remained in the car for another minute, drumming his fingers on the wheel as he debated. He wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, though; he didn’t get up at six am and make the drive from LA just to sit here and twiddle his thumbs.

Finally, he glanced at his watch and got out, wondering for a moment if the hotel bar would be open yet before fetching the carefully wrapped chandelier from his trunk and flicking the keys to the valet.

The place was full of what were clearly preparations for the ceremony tomorrow, and he was glad for it; it made his showing up here less suspicious. Though, he supposed, it didn’t really matter. The minute he started asking questions, he knew Lucien would puzzle out why he’d come and tear the mickey out of him for it.

“Can I help you, sir?”

Azriel pushed his sunglasses into his hair and glanced at the girl bobbing behind the reception desk.

“Lucien Vanserra?”

She opened her mouth before closing it, her eyes going over his shoulder in answer.

“Macar, you must need a new watch. You’re…” Azriel turned on a booted heel, trying not to react as Lucien consulted his own sickeningly-lavish timepiece “Six hours early.“

He gave Azriel a lazy grin, the kind that always made Az want to punch him.

Reminding himself to keep it cordial, at least to start, Azriel shrugged and said, “I was dropping off the arbor.”

Azriel had built Feyre and Rhys a bespoke arbor from California cedar for their rustic—if wedding held at a resort that cost $1,300 a night could ever be considered rustic—nuptials in the redwood forest that yawned out behind the hotel.

“What?” Lucien said dryly. “In your two-door Benz?”

Azriel only pursed his lips as Lucien eyed him gleefully. The younger man had an uncanny knack for spotting a lie and a seemingly insatiable thirst for gossip, both of which set Azriel’s teeth on edge.

“You’re full of shit,” Lucien observed, eyes still keen. “Your guys dropped it off yesterday.”

Azriel held up the chandelier—which would be attached to the arbor for the ceremony— in answer, and Lucien rolled his eyes, though he was still smiling faintly.

“You drove six hours through LA traffic to drop off a glorified lamp?”

“This thing is baccarat crystal, you uncultured dick,” Azriel snapped, and Lucien rolled his eyes again, gesturing to the left with his chin.

“We can store it in my office until the light guy gets here tomorrow morning.”

Azriel followed Lucien up the grand staircase, helping him to carefully get it settled in the walk-in safe before watching Vanserra slouch into the chair behind his desk.

Not sure how to go about finding out what he’d come here for, Azriel braced his hands on the supple leather chair across from Lucien, surveying the view of the pool and forest beyond that was visible through the large window.

”I can’t believe you own parter of this place,” Azriel remarked, aware that his tone was a little south of friendly.

Lucien only laughed.

“It’s an equity investment,” Lucien said. “I don’t even have the controlling stake. And this is all pretty rich coming from the dude who build Beyoncé’s dining room table.”

Azriel flushed. Maybe it was a consequence of growing up poor in a part of the country where flashing wealth was considered a mortal sin, but name-dropping and talking about money always made him uncomfortable.

He’d certainly acquired a taste for the finer things since his design shop had gotten successful, but he didn’t see what joy there was to be gained from bragging about it all the time. Besides, there wasn’t really a need: the orange Lamborghini Aventador parked in his garage back in LA was more than happy to do it for him.

“What’s this about?” Lucien said, the shadow of that knowing smirk still faintly visible on his face, even though he wasn’t currently smiling. “No offense, Macar, but I really don’t have time for your ‘Man of the People’ routine today, and I know you didn’t get here half a day before the rehearsal dinner just to drop off that stupid chandelier, bacca-ra-ra crystal or not.”

“Baccarat,” Azriel corrected, and Lucien rolled his eyes. “And I didn’t get the frame finished before my guys left with the truck yesterday. I just wanted to make sure it got here okay.”

Lucien surveyed him with a critical eye before shrugging.

“So we’re good? Great, I’ll get Jessica to check you in, then. I assume you’ll want to go to do push-ups or scowl in the mirror or whatever it is you do for fun, considering you have six hours before the rehearsal starts.”

Lucien started out of his chair, and Azriel tensed, making the former smirk.

“I thought so,” he crowed, dark eyes glittering. “I know what you want to ask me, so go ahead: ask me.”

Azriel only clenched his jaw in response. Jesus, this was such a dumb idea. He should have just taken his chances and gone to Palo Alto. Hell, even gone to Feyre, annoying as her meddling could sometimes be. Anything to avoid that smug, shit-eating grin that had begun to spread across Lucien’s face.

“Fine,” Lucien said, clearly enjoying every second of Azriel’s discomfort. “I’ll go first: you want to know if Elain’s bringing someone tonight.”

Azriel only crossed his arms, and Lucien laughed.

“I knew it!” he said, banging his fist on the table. “I knew you had the hots for her! Man, you are so fucking transparent.”

Azriel rolled his eyes.

“What do you want, a medal?”

“That’s alright,” Lucien practically cooed. “Watching you squirm is prize enough.”

“Cut the shit,” Azriel said, patience waning. Please god let her be single again. He wasn’t sure he could handle having sacrificed this much of his pride for nothing. “Is she bringing anyone?”

Azriel hadn’t seen Elain since she’d gone back to grad school at Stanford a month ago; that was more than enough time for some other guy to slide in and try and sweep her off her feet. His only saving grace was the fact Elain was not easily wooed. It was one of the many things Azriel found so alluring about her; she was quietly but fiercely independent, and self-possessed in a way most twenty-four year olds weren’t.

Lucien only shrugged.

“How should I know?”

“She’s your best friend; don’t pretend she doesn’t tell you everything.”

Lucien pursed his lips this time, clearly slipping into his long-held role as gatekeeper to Elain’s highly-sought after affections.

“Say what you really mean: you want to know if she’s back with Graysen.”

Okay, yes, that was what Azriel wanted to know, though he didn’t admit as much out loud. Graysen Van Baas, for all this faults, always seemed the dog to beat in the fight for Elain’s attention. None of their friends could really figure out why—he was a grade-A douche—but Elain had been dating him on-and-off since college, and had even turned down a scholarship at the Department of Art History at Yale to follow him to Stanford instead. Graysen was a second year law student there, a fact he felt the need to remind them of with sickeningly frequency.

For the three years, Elain and Graysen had been in a constant cycle of breaking up and getting back together, much to everyone’s chagrin. The last time she’d brought him down to have dinner in LA, Cash ended up having to drag a snarling Nesta out of the restaurant to avoid a scene. According to him, it had taken dirty sex in the back of their Land Rover and a new Michael Kors handbag to convince Nesta not to drive up to Palo Alto and kill Graysen in his sleep.

“Well?” Azriel prompted, giving Lucien a deadpan look that Lucien rather impressively matched.

“Not that I know of.”

“Not that you know of?” Azriel repeated, and this time, Lucien did stop smiling.

“Elain and I had to make a ‘No Graysen talk’ policy for the sake of our friendship.”

“So you have no idea if she’s bringing him or not?” Azriel said, and Lucien gave another shrug.

Well wasn’t that just fucking fantastic.

Azriel waited for Lucien to continue, but he didn’t, much to Azriel’s mounting annoyance.

“Vanserra, I don’t have time for your dramatic timing or your bullshit. Just tell me if you think she’s going to bring Graysen or not.”

“I don’t think so. She’s pretty garbage at hiding when she’d seeing him again, and I haven’t heard her mention him even in passing, though—” Lucien paused to give Azriel a vulpine smirk.  “She does seem to find plenty of ways to casually bring you up in conversation.”

Lucien put on an affection of Elain’s sweet, sing-song voice and continued, “'How’s Az doing? Did you know that Gwyneth Paltrow bought one of those reclaimed accent tables Az makes? What day’s Az coming up for the wedding, do you know? Did you read that article about Az’s designs in—’”

“You better not be fucking with me,” Azriel interrupted in a low voice. His heart was beating so hard he could feel like in his throat.

Lucien’s mouth tightened.

“Look, I know you and I aren’t exactly friends—though please know I would take you over Cash or Rhys any day of the week—but Elain has been my best friend for ten years, and I love her more than anything. I would never fuck with her happiness, and I certainly wouldn’t send some surly dude after her if I didn’t think she wasn’t at least open to the possibility. Do with that information what you will.”

“A charming sentiment,” Azriel said, already miles away from the conversation. He needed to call Cash. He and Nesta were meant to pick Elain up from Palo Alto on their way down from San Francisco. It was nearly impossible to convince Nesta Archeron to change her plans once they’d been made, so Azriel would need to buy Cash as much time as possible to bribe her into agreeing. Hopefully this time, Cassian would leave out the logistics; Azriel had heard enough details about their sex life to last a lifetime.

“Excellent,” Lucien said. “Well now that that’s settled, I have actual work to do. Are you going to stay here, or—“

“No, I’m leaving,” Azriel said, check his watch. It was noon already—he needed to get on the road.

“Are you seriously driving down to Palo Alto right now?” Lucien said, seemingly amused. “Damn, son, I hope your boss is reimbursing you for mileage.”

“Stay out of my business,” Azriel said curtly, seeing no point to being polite now that he’d gotten what he came for. “And don’t ever call me ‘son’, again.”

“No?” Lucien goaded. “What about Daddy?”

“Vanserra,” Azriel said, squeezing his eyes shut and praying for patience. “Don’t make me kill you.”

“Oh please,” Lucien said, kicking his feet off the desk. “You’d never do that to Elain. And you owe me, by the way. Maybe you could tell Mor—“

“She has a serious girlfriend,” Azriel cut off, “But I will put in a good word with her friend Vassa—apparently she’d got a thing for gingers.”

Lucien rolled his eyes, though Azriel could tell he was secretly pleased with the prospect of Jes’s attention.

“See you this evening, then,” Lucien said in dismissal. “Please, do not feel the need hurry back.”

Azriel flipped him a foul hand gesture and sauntered out, reminding himself not to seem to eager on the trip back to his car. Once in it though, he put the petal to the floor, letting his new E-Class purr into fifth gear and linger. It was then he called Cash

“What’s up, brother?” came the answer after three rings.

“Hey, have you and Nesta left to pick Elain up yet?”

“No, she called earlier and said she’d had some breakthrough on something with her paper, and that she’d just meet us there. Why?”

Azriel gripped the wheel a little harder, bracing for impending impact with Cash’s needling wit.

“No reason.”

Cassian only laughed in response.

“You’re driving up to Palo Alto, aren’t you?” he said mirthfully. “Man, you have it bad.”

“Fuck off.”

“Damn, Feyre’s gonna be so smug; she bet you would make your move before the rehearsal dinner. I had you waiting until the reception! Where’s the heads-up, handsome?”

“Feyre knows?” Azriel demanded, feeling his cheek warm slightly. “I told you not to tell her. And stop betting on my love life; it freaks me out.”

“I didn’t tell her, Nesta did. And before you bite my head off, I didn’t tell Nesta, either. She just figured it out. Also, don’t be so uptight; stress can cause impotence, and trust me, you don’t want to start this Elain thing off with a limp dick.”

“Christ,” Azriel said, rubbing his temple with his free hand. “Please stop. And just keep Nesta’s phone away from her for a few hours. I don’t need Feyre waiting on the front steps like a welcoming committee.”

“Tough ask, my man. The only way to keep her that distracted is to—“

“Goodbye Cash,” Azriel said with emphasis. “See you in a bit.”

“Go get ‘em, champ,” Cash cooed, and Azriel grit his teeth in annoyance before ending the call.

It was about a two hour drive down to Palo Alto, and Azriel spent the entirety of it wondering the best way to handle the situation.

It felt rather abrupt to simply confess himself the minute she opened the door, but given how well—or rather, how poorly—the subtly angle had played so far, he didn’t feel like he could rule it out entirely.

By San Jose, he’d run through ever possible iteration of their conversation, ranging from doing nothing to just kissing before she had a chance to speak. He found all the speculation was just making me more agitated, so he permitted himself to daydream about what she might wear instead.

Unlike her elder sister, Elain wasn’t usually one for dressing up, but when she did, it was always to devastating effect.  Azriel thought of the tantalizing little cocktail dress she’d worn to Cash’s 34th birthday in July and bit his lip; she’d looked good enough to eat that night.

Though, Azriel mused, that wasn’t the Elain he liked best. He preferred her usual style, her quirky overalls and graphic tees, that long braid forever swinging behind her as she laughed or talked animatedly about Cinquecento Rome and the artistic milieu of the Papal Courts—the topic of her Masters thesis.

Fuck, he should have done this months ago. He should have done it the moment she broke up with Graysen at the beginning of the summer, or that day they’d watched the sunset together over Golden Gate park after the dinner to celebrate Nesta’s latest win in court.

Sitting on the hood of the Benz that night, he’d wanted to, so badly. But watching her with her knees tucked to her chest like she was a little girl while she explained all the constellations as they emerged, he hadn’t wanted to ruin the moment. Besides, she’d only just broke things off with Graysen the week before, and he hadn’t wanted her to think he was taking advantage of her.

He should have just done it, though; should have explained that it wasn’t about her breakup, and that he’d fallen for her the moment he met her, and had  continued to fall with every new thing he learned about her. It was true she was gorgeous, but somehow, that was the least alluring thing about her.

Swearing to himself, Azriel pulled up in front of Elain’s quaint bungalow and parked, drumming on the steering wheel again to try and dispel the nerves. He really wished he still had that bottle of Jamo in the glove box; he really could have used it right now. Instead he just took a deep breath, glancing in the rearview to inspect his hair and run a hand through it before getting out of a the car.

Right, he could do this. As Lucien had so tacklessly pointed out, he’d been personally invited into Beyoncé’s house before; if he could keep his shit together for that, he could be cool about this.

He would just be casual, friendly. They had the whole drive up to chat—there was no reason to blurt it all out now. Besides, why explain he was basically in love with her on her front porch when he could do it as they drove down the breathtaking California coast?

He blew out another breath and knocked, fumbling a bit for what to do with his hands before leaning in what he hoped was a casual way on the doorframe. Women liked when guys leaned on things, right?

He listened to the door click, and he pressed his nose to his shoulder to quickly insure the cologne he’d put on that morning was still fresh before the door swung in.

Elain appeared, and his heart stuttered a step. She looked as gorgeous as he’d ever seen her, and it honestly made it hard for him to breathe.

“Hey Ellie,” he managed, pushing sunglasses into his hair and grinning the way he only ever had an urge to when she was around.

“Az,” she said in delighted surprise. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, grin widening a little.

“I was in the neighborhood,” he said, and she laughed, her teeth bright against her rose pink lips.

Az tried not the check her out as she did, but she was perfection in the pink tulle cocktail dress she wore, and my God did her tits look amazing. He’d promised himself before he got here he wouldn’t look at them, but the dress was cut nearly to her sternum, and there was truly no not looking. Az had always been—if such a thing wasn’t too ungentlemanly to admit—a breast man, and hers were without equal. Still, they had nothing on the intelligent, merry glimmer in her doe brown eyes, which had him falling just that little farther in love when she met his eye.

“From LA?” Elain teased, craning her neck to grin at him and fisting a hand in his shirt at the hip as she did.

Ordinarily he didn’t like to be touched without provocation, but Elain was a tactile person, and he’d come to crave her calming touches, even knowing they were completely platonic.

He flicked her nose in answer, and she batted him away, laughing.

"Cash mentioned that you were driving yourself down,” Azriel explained, wishing he could invent another reason to touch her again. “And since we all know there is only about a fifty percent chance Jafar can actual make it that far, I’d thought I’d see if you wanted a ride.”

Jafar was Elain’s embattled ’87 beetle, so-named for his villainous predilection for losing A/C in the summer.

Elain laughed again before biting her lip, her expression going penitent.

“I wish you’d called,” she said, frowning now.

Oh no. Azriel knew that look; it was the one she always gave saps at the bar when she wanted to let them down easy.

“Are you that deadset on taking Jafar?” Azriel teased, desperately trying to right the ship. “You still haven’t replaced the radio from when it got ripped out.”

Elain laughed.

“No, fuck Jafar. You know I’d much rather ride in the Benz and hang out with you. It’s just—” she broke off, wincing a little now, too. “Don’t be mad.”

“Why would I be mad?” he said, but he knew what was coming next, and he was already so mad her could barely keep from blurting a very impolite swear word, one that rhymed with both “duck” and “truck”.

“Graysen’s on his way to pick me up right now.”

Azriel felt his shoulders falling in obvious disappointment, and he caught them with effort, his traps aching with the stain of not letting them slump.

“You’re seeing Graysen again?” he forced out, still straining to sound conversational.

She blushed a little. At least she wasn’t oblivious to how much they all disliked him.

“We got back together last week.”

“Great,” he said, running a hand through his hair for something to do. “Well that’s..perfect. Nice.” 

He glanced down at her, at the sweet dolefulness in her expression, before squeezing his eyes shut and blurting, “no actually, fuck this. Ellie, please don’t bring that dick to your sister’s wedding.”

Elain pursed her lips and turned away from the door, and Azriel took it as a silent invitation, following her in and closing it behind him.

“Please,” she said, biting her lip again. God, he wanted to do the same so badly in hurt. “I’m already going to get enough crap from Nesta and Luc; I don’t need it from you, too.”

“Well tough shit, because you’re getting it.”

She crossed her arms somewhat defensively, and he softened.

"C’mon, El, we all know how this ends, and honestly, you could do so much better.”

“You don’t even know him,” she said. “And I realize you and Cash and Rhys love playing big brother, but I’m not some little teenager you have to look after. I’m a grown-up, and I’m fine. ”

He groaned in agitation, wondering how this had gotten off the rails so quickly.

“You’re not like a little sister,” he said, wanting to be sure it had been stated for the record. “At least not to me.”

He hoped in vain she would read between the lines and get what he was trying to tell her. Understandably, she didn’t, and she just rolled her eyes.

“So you’re telling me you drove two hours out of your way just to see if I wanted company?”

Yes, that was exactly what he was telling her. Before he could debate the merits of saying this out loud, she narrowed her eyes and continued.

"I know my sisters sent you to spy on me after I cancelled on Nesta.”

He groaned again. They had to get out of this “family drama” zone before he got branded as an overbearing older brother for all eternity.

“Jesus, Ellie, that is not what this is.”

“Okay,” she said somewhat hotly. “Then what is it?”

Azriel fumbled for the words, but he’d always been more a man of action than eloquence, so he advanced to gently cup her cheeks instead, hoping she didn’t slap him as he kissed her.

Her lips were so soft he wasn’t sure what to do with himself, and at this close distance, he found himself inundated with her pretty floral perfume. However, after a second her lips were still tight under his, and hating himself for forcing the kiss on her, he jerked back.

“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry,” he began in a panic, beginning to back away. “Ellie, I—“

He didn’t get far in his doleful retreat. She had a hand in his t-shirt before he could even blink, and suddenly she was the one kissing him. He thought to question it, but didn’t, simply wrapped a hand around her back to steady her so he could get a proper taste. She’d obviously just brushed her teeth, and her breath was fresh as she opened her mouth so her tongue could touch his.

The left-brain part of him was distantly screaming at him as they continued to kiss, demanding he parse through the events that had lead them to this point so he could make sense of it. The rest of him didn’t care. He didn’t care that her dumb ass ex boyfriend was still on his way over here, or that he had no idea what it meant that she’d kissed him back. All he cared about was that she had.

He moaned when her hands slipped under the hem of his shirt and down his bare back. Not to seduce, he realized, but simply to feel his warmth against her own and ground them more solidly in the moment. He melted into her touch, suddenly struck by the feeling that after 29 years of wandering the Earth like a nomad, he’d finally found a place safe enough to call home.

The dizzying delight of it made him slightly unstable, and they careened backward, his hand bracing on the wall and caging her to it as they continued to kiss. He groaned as she let her hands slip out of his shirt so she could run her fingers through his hair, knocking his sunglasses to the ground as she tugged on the strands, her teeth echoing the motion on his bottom lip.

He was so wrapped up in it that he didn’t hear the annoying bugle of the camero’s engine as it trumpeted into the driveway, and it was only when someone knocked on the door that he realized Graysen had arrived.

“Babe? Are you ready? Let’s go.”

Elain stiffened, and she and Azriel shared a look.

“Just don’t answer it,” he mouthed, but he felt his stomach twisted into a grotesque double windsor as she flashed him penitent look, pushing gently on his chest and eying her overnight bag where it sat packed near the door.

No, this could not be happening. There was no way this was actually happening.

Except it was.

Elain slipped from beneath his arm and called, “Umm, be right there!”

“You said two,” Graysen called back. “It’s 2:07. Hurry up, please.”

Azriel watched in horror as Elain smoothed her hair before gathering her things.

“Elain,” he whispered, but she shook her head, still looking—despite the royal screwing she was about to give him—like the girl of his dreams, the one he’d been in love with for two years.

“I’m so sorry, Az,” she said in the same tone, giving him a sympathetic frown as she touched his cheek. “I just can’t.“

“Wait, Elain—“

He reached for her wrist to hold her there, but it was too late. She was wrenching open the door, and Azriel had no choice but to listen as she kissed Graysen, still flattened to the wall like a teenager trying not to get caught. He only dared move when he heard the Camero pulling off down the street, taking a staggering step back before hearing a crunch and glancing down to see his sunglasses snapped in two.

What a fucking joke.