#egoships

This was a request from my wattpad and I thought I would post it here as well becasue I really liked it.

Its based on the song “Still Dancing” by Oreo

~`~`~

Wilford opened his boyfriend's dressing room door and smiled. JJ turned and smiled at him. "How are we doing songbird?"

JJ blushed. "I'm doing well," he said and patted his face with powered blush. JJ frozen and coughed.

Wilford froze as JJ coughed up blood. "Hey, darling are you ok?"

JJ shook his head. "Wil I can't perform," JJ whispered, his voice hoarse as he stared at the blood on his hand.

Wilford shook his head. "Dear when have you ever let it stop you from singing. Everyone's here tonight dear."

JJ shook his head. "Wil I'm scared."

Henrik was shivering just a tad bit once he returned home. Though a soft smile was on his face once he saw Jameson greet him at the front door.

{Welcome home, darling} The dapper signed before gifting the doctor a warm embrace. Henrik instantly melted into the dapper arms once they wrapped around him.

"Hello, meine Süße. I have missed you.” he nuzzled his face on the crook of Jameson's neck. The dapper radiated so much warmth. The doctor smirked against his skin as an idea popped into mind. His hands snaked down to Jameson's waist, sneaking their way underneath the dappers vest and button up shirt until his icy hold hands made contact with the others soft warm porcelain skin.

The dapper flinched at the touch before shifting in Henriks hold as he tried to get away. The doctor only giggled mischievously as he his hands there, holding on to his beloved. "Mein Liebling, please, you are so warm and my hands are freezing." He said with a chuckle as Jameson kept on squirming.

After a moment Henrik spared Jameson from his cold cage and let him go. The dapper took a step back before pouting at the doctor. {Your hands are like ice!} Henrik couldn't help but chuckle at that, thinking that Jameson looked rather adorable.

"My apologies, I could not help myself."

Jameson only pouted more but it melted away as he felt a kiss delivered to his cheek, making him blush. "Come now, dinner smells amazing."

Tight red dress shirts and stiff grey coats don’t suit Chase Brody. Henrik practically had to wrestle with him to get him to not wear a hat to his date. “No baseball caps at fancy restaurants, dumme!” Scrabbling to push hair down over the round white scar on his head, and fumbling out the door with his brothers yelling encouragements behind him, Chase makes for the taxi. 

His phone doesn’t vibrate the entire time he rides in the taxi. No texts come in, and he sends none in return. The widow rushes with wind, the world crisply passing him by. “Uh, stop here please-” he interjects to the driver, who slams his breaks and grumbles about “American asshats” in a thick Northern accent. Chase steps out of the car, hastily apologizing as the driver pulls away. He takes a shaky breath, smoothing his hair over the scar, over and over again. 

He checks his phone again... No word from his date yet. Ah well, maybe she made a reservation. That’s probably it, yeah. He walks up to the doors, and a man in a tailed suit opens the heavy black wood. Chase notices the raise of his nose and scowl of his mouth, and blushes, tugging at his suit and trying to look like he belongs here. He does belong here. He’s just as good as the fancy suited and dressed men and women waiting in the coat room. 

“I-i don’t need a coat chip, actually,” he tells the persistent man shoving the red token in his face. The man’s eyes are squinted, taking in every flaw he can find, from the sagging suit to his shirt being too tight to his green hair still being mussy after trying to gel it back. Chase clears his throat, and the man stops staring, turning away with a “hmph”. He leads Chase through darkwood oak doorways into the open area of the restaurant. 

“Reservation?” a sniffly woman in a tight fitting green suit peers down at him over her nose. Chase rubs the back of his neck softly, feeling prickles of sweat beading under his shirt. 

“U-uh... Either Brody or Evanes?” 

“Evanes?” the woman raises an eyebrow, as though she’s better than him, as though her suit and voice and scoffing lips are the god and denizen of this restaurant. Chase glowers as she turns around and checks her list. She huffs. “No Evanes listed. You’re clearly not in the right place, hun.” She stresses the last word, like speaking to a child. And Chase feels like ones, a silly little kid dressed in his father’s suit. 

He shuts his eyes, stuttering over his words. “I-i uh... well I have... I h-have a date with-”

“Me,” a familiar voice cuts in, a hand resting on Chase’s shoulder suddenly. Chase starts and gasps, whipping around to see... Bim? 

“Bim? Wh-... What are you doing in Brighton, my man?”

“Well I’m here for our date, silly!” He grins, teeth sharp and beyond anything a human should look like. Bim gives the lady in the green suit a “look”, a mixture of strained apology and softened hatred. “Take us to our table, Maggie. You’d hate for me to let Mr. McDouwl know about you disrespecting my date, surely. I mean we all know he’s two steps away from letting you go after the chocolate fountain fiasco! Be a dear and take me to my usual table.” The woman puffs up and turns pink, snatching up menus and stalking off towards their table. Bim chuckles and grabs Chase’s hand, dragging him along behind him. 

“Bim, what are you doing? Why are you even here, bro?” Chase is blushing bright red all the way to his ear tips, being dragged along behind the much more smartly dressed American friend. 

“Well, I saw you walking in, and what are the odds! I also reserved a spot for tonight, shock and awe. Ha ha ha. Plus, buddy, slugger, champ, it seems like you got stood up, no?” Chase blushes impossibly more, his shoulders sinking at the truth of it. Bim’s smile twists with sympathy as they’re guided by the flustered Maggie into a three-seater table, dark green velvet chairs and a pure cream white table cloth, silverware already set out and waiting for meals to come. Chase sinks down on his elbows against the table, head in his hands. He doesn’t really feel like eating anything right now. Hell, he doesn’t feel like ever eating again. He stares at a fish knife, contemplating if it’s sharp enough to cause any damage. 

Bim clears his throat. “Well? I saved your ass Chaser, do I get a ‘thanks daddy’ or something?” Chase barks out a loud laugh then slaps his hand against his lips, going wide-eyed. Bim grins as other patrons stares them down. “C’mon hun, surely I get at least a kiss after that!”

“Oh my god, man you’re killing me, stop!” Chase is shaking with restrained laughter, his hand muffling his plea for mercy. Bim laughs, his strangely monotone separation of the syllables of ‘ha ha ha’ amusing Chase immensely more. “Dude I don’t remember you being such a dork.”

Bim twiddles with his fork, staring at Chase with intensity. Chase could swear that his golden eyes flashed red for a moment. He swallows dryly and tugs at his tie awkwardly. 

“Oh, don’t you remember? I was joking just the same when Jack first introduced us!” 

“W-well, um... I was kind of too busy like... you know.” Chase gestures vaguely at the air, trying to dismiss it. 

“Oh, no no, you’re going to tell me what was going through that pretty head, Brody. What was distracting you when we first met, hmmm?” He tilts his head, teeth glinting like a predator. 

“Well, you’re famous and...” Chase sighs shakily, straightening out his suit, pushing his hair down over his scar. “You were really intimidating, Bim. You were like... everything I wanted to be, y’know?” Bim raises a brow at him. “You were this bigshot celebrity, even though you were made by a Creator, and you didn’t even try hiding from the world like me and my friends do. You’re... brave, and loud, and brash, even when it annoys people. You give zero fucks!” 

Bim hums, scratching his chin, the grin never leaving his lips. However, his eyes have softened, and his cheeks are dusted in red. “Well then, Chase, no need to suck my dick so hard, ha ha ha,” he deflects, rolling his eyes as his blush fades away. 

But Chase is not oblivious to his rosy cheeked grin. Chase smiles back, small and nervous, trying to interject confidence to match his dinner date’s. Bim averts his gaze, lifting a napkin to his mouth and coughing quietly. 

“If you don’t stop being such an adorable motherfucker I’ll gut you like a fish, Chaser~” Bim say flirtily. Before Chase can even respond Bim calls over a waiter and orders the sweetest wine they offer. How did he know how Chase likes his wine? Bim must pay a lot more attention to things than he lets on, Chase thinks softly, looking at Bim glowing under the subtle red lighting. Maybe I should pay more attention too. 

The two spend the rest of the night sipping wine between quips and blushing, wolfing down rare steak (just as delicious as Bim said it would be), and leave the restaurant arm in arm, pink-faced and laughing. They share a long glance, a soft touch of the hands, equally embarrassed though so differently built. Chase, nervous and unsure in the world, scarred and blue-eyed. Bim, confident, gilded hunter’s eyes, and far, far away from anything Chase could dream of being. Yet both of them were built to entertain. 

Me: *goes into tag and only sees my old posts*

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