Chapter Text
Ridoc took a long sip of his drink, the condensation slick against his fingers, and let out a low, satisfied sigh. The last of the karaoke ballads had faded, the ancient machine now humming softly to itself as if it too needed a breather. The air in Chantara’s was thick with the heat of too many bodies, spilled drinks, and the lingering aftermath of emotional whiplash and terrible dance moves.
Maybe some less than terrible dance moves too.
He leaned his hip against the bar, turning to take it all in with the dazed satisfaction of a man who had absolutely caused this mess, thank you very much.
There, across the room, Sloane was perched delicately in Dain’s lap, whispering something in his ear while Dain looked like he was about ten seconds from taking her back to wherever they’d disappeared to during Aaric’s performance. They were pretending to be subtle because they both knew Liam was around, but... well, they were failing.
Especially with that hand placement on Sloane’s… WOW. Naughty, naughty Dain.
In the corner, Cat sat in a huddle with Maren, Rhi, and Trager, listening to Maren animatedly telling a story with sweeping gestures and bright eyes. But every few beats, her gaze flicked – inevitably, potentially involuntarily – towards Violet and Xaden, who were so wrapped up in each other it was almost indecent. He’d seen houseplants with less physical distance. Cat’s expression shifted with every glance: longing, disdain, resentment, and something Ridoc suspected might eventually settle into quiet heartbreak, if she ever let it.
Nearby, Sawyer was making moon eyes at Jesinia – and ew, they were being reflected straight back at him as she held her hand on the body of the guitar as Sawyer strummed. Ridoc had to admit, Bestie’s performance was by far the best of the evening – himself aside of course – but you wouldn’t ever catch Ridoc being that open and sappy.
The thought made him shudder and he looked away from all the disgustingly mushy couples.
Baylor, Avalynn, and Kai were – well, entwined was probably the best word. Kai’s legs were across Baylor’s lap, Avalynn’s hand was playing absently with the ends of Kai’s hair, and the three of them were chatting amiably with Lynx and Aaric, as if their seating arrangement wasn’t the visual equivalent of a raised eyebrow.
Ridoc smiled. Mushy was bad, comfortably casual was good. Good for them, he thought, giving them an internal high-five. The youths really aren’t hooking up enough these days.
At one of the booths, Quinn and Jax were curled together like a pair of smug cats, deep in conversation with Liam and Bodhi, who were similarly tangled together. Liam was absently stroking the back of Bodhi’s hand as Bodhi spoke animatedly, probably about how he had been coerced and blackmailed into that Single Ladies routine.
Not that anyone believed him. Legs and hips like that were born to be shared.
His eyes drifted to the far edge of the room where Imogen and Garrick were halfway through what was clearly an argument. Garrick’s back was to the wall, hands splayed in mock surrender, while Imogen poked him squarely in the chest with every syllable. Then, mid-sentence, Garrick grabbed her waist, spun her, and pressed her hard against the wall.
They were kissing before the protest could finish forming on her lips. Ridoc arched an eyebrow.
“That’s going to be someone else’s problem tomorrow,” he muttered to himself.
Near the bar, Drake was leaning suavely into Mira, trying to play it casual, like the man hadn’t just pulled a full-blown serenade-with-choreography performance earlier. Mira, unbothered, said something – something sharp and lethal, by the look on Drake’s face. His eyes bulged in a cartoonish way that made Ridoc snort into his drink. She gave him a smirk, turned on her heel, and sauntered away, tossing him a slow, smouldering glance over her shoulder that landed like a gut punch.
Drake blinked, stunned, then downed his drink, squared his shoulders and followed her.
“Play with fire, get burnt,” Ridoc said cheerfully to himself, raising his glass in Mira’s honour.
Then, just as he was preparing to bask a moment longer in the chaos he’d kicked off hours earlier with Queen and questionable hip thrusts, a familiar voice slid into his ear like warm honey.
“Ready to go, babe?”
He turned, and there was Brennan, arms folded, amusement dancing in those deceptively calm eyes. The same eyes that had followed him the whole damn night – rolling, yes, but always with that barely-there smirk beneath the surface.
Brennan had given in to his request to do a song – like he always gave in to Ridoc’s ridiculous requests – but Ridoc would be lying if he said he thought the performance had gone… well.
Mira, thank the gods, had saved him the awkward embarrassment of saying anything by cornering Brennan the second he stepped off stage. By the time he’d made his way back to Ridoc, he’d looked a little sheepish and mumbled a “sorry” before hiding behind his drink as Sawyer serenaded Jesinia, the two of them not saying any more about it.
Okay, so maybe not all of Ridoc’s ideas were good ones.
For now, Ridoc met his gaze and felt a spark flicker in his chest, the kind that had nothing to do with stage lights or cheap liquor.
“Absolutely,” he said, downing the last of the liquid in his glass.
And with one last look over his kingdom of chaos, Ridoc slid off his barstool, let Brennan sling an arm around his shoulders, and allowed himself to be pulled into the night.
Curtain down. House lights up. Party: complete.